#throwing of all of this into the unknown — to pacify it instead of treating it properly.

[lonestardust]

carlos' eyes in the meeting room........ carlos' eyes at the hospital..... at the IC room..... his guts are boiling with hot rage!!! this very stubborn hope. it's in the clench of his jaw since the funeral. the lump in his throat that he swallows back every time because that's how the gut-wrenching vestige of murder that hasn't received its justice yet feels like."i see it now. the eyes.." because that's the glimpse of the resolute unswerving gabriel in him that echos 'if there are tears to weep we do it when the time comes, not before'. you grief but you don't get defeated when there is still work to do in order to rest in that grief. and GODDD carlos is so righteously resolved about getting there. i want him so so bad to solve the case. finally bring that retribution and avenge his family and himself. he's been in the waxing and waning throes for too long he only deserves the purgation and finality of it more than anything!!!!!

because no way all of this relentless endeavour and sharp stubborn wit would culminate to anything but cracking it. even storytelling wise that would be disheartening not to bring it to its desired ends. because imagine. all this time carlos was so right about the rangers from the start. then he looped in. was kept so close under their wing. and then he now realises that he wasn't really truly '''stuck''' but he was trapped and misled instead and it's all tumbling down now over their heads and he's seeing through the cracks. finally the darkness makes sense and he can move in action through the pinnacle and into the resolution!!!

[viriyanon]

'tired' ? for your challenge :P

a.n. anon u... u reel me into a very dangerous thought okay. for the first 3 minutes, congratulation. but not after that. not toDAY SATAN!!1!1!1!!1

also. this is unexpectedly LONG. SO. LONG.

jiang yuelou sighs in annoyance after hanging up zhan junbai's phone call, telling him that his men failed to track down hong kong's emerging opium dealer that currently supplies jing city with an unidentified type of poppy. the whole police bureau is on fire due to this discovery.

"all i could confirm is that they indeed sell a new type of opium, presumably from india. but we failed to extract any information about the leader, let alone catching them. they were enforced by british authorities and my men suddenly were outnumbered," says junbai dimly from the other side of the line, clearly not liking the unpredicted variable in their perfectly planned undercover.

the executive offers an apology, which yuelou dismisses in a second 'cause executive zhan, regardless this one very failure, is still the best external alliance ever. the most reliable source, partner, and friend. yuelou can't ask for a better connection than zhan junbai.

but that doesn't change the current result. coming with that are mayor cai's aggravation and bai jinbo's wrath. song rong and sun yongren can only dip their head down watching the commissioner throw those paper in their boss' face, saying how incompetent yuelou is.

("well, let's see if commissioner bai can capture them by himself!" sun yongren says quietly, aggressively biting a baozi in his head 'cause it's pass dinner already.)

so, having a bad day is an understatement. it's beyond bad, it's bad bad. jiang yuelou is not someone who accepts defeat easily, he never wants to be one step behind. when he's one step behind, he must be in the chasing mode—he must be the one controlling the lane, the illusion of safety margin that manipulates the target's decision, the pace of their game. but today, someone else's successfully taking over him without his permission, dragging him around like a lifeless ragdoll.

thinking about him getting controlled by an unknown party burns him, anger boils in his vein—violence at the tip of his fingers, ready to transfer his rage to anything and anyone without mercy. upon seeing jiang yuelou disappear into his room, song rong and sun yongren immediately rush to every corridor that yuelou will have to walk through to exit the building, telling everyone not to initiate any conversation if their boss pass them by to avoid making the bureau a blood painted crime scene.

"don't- don't talk to chief jiang when he walks out, understand?!" sun yongren repeats the same information to some rookies coming in for their night shift before running to other corridor. the young officers, still with their idealism and lack of experience, take it with a grain of salt.

next thing they know is they freeze under the wall-mounted lamp as jiang yuelou grimly walks down the corridor. noone says anything to him, not even looking up from the carpeted tiles after they nod to salute him. his subordinates immediately clear out of his way, bumping their shoulders into the wall to avoid bumping into the walking wrath instead.

the said chief passes by the rookies too, giving them a side-eye, and they feel like they just get caressed by death. the yellow lights from the filament lamp falls on his pale white face, clenched jawline, and riled expression every two meter, making his appearance more hair-rising due to scanty lighting and blank spots. in addition, winter wind is particularly strong this week, easily slipping inside from the gap between the window frame and the stone surface. the corridor, dimly lit and gravely chilling, feels like a gate to the underworld and yán wáng is coming to take them personally, for a good minute.

the chief keeps striding without diverting his attention anymore, eyes fixed forward to shove everyone aside. he only has one destination set in his mind now and before he gets to it, his revolver will aim towards whoever gets in his way and extricate them his way, which usually is... freestyle.

when yuelou arrives in front of yuzhi’s front gate, he can’t help the bubbling anger overflowing his already small pot. the wooden doors are closed, tight, locked, yelling at him “no chen yuzhi today.” noone in this world would understand the immense effect this sentence can do to jiang yuelou who has grown a co-dependency with the doctor. today is marked as yuelou’s worst setback in life.

the chief exhales loudly, admitting his defeat to the universe, and makes his way towards his house with heavy shoulders. the rage and anger he wanted to lash out recklessly towards chen yuzhi douses entirely by the fact that the doctor’s not home to listen to him vent. thank goodness the snowfall is not heavy today unless he’d bury himself under the thick snow in one of jing city’s darkest alley. it’s sad that he is alone in this big, big world today. dramatic, but valid.

just when he’s about to open the gate to his house, he sees they are already unlocked. jiang yuelou never forgets unlocking his own house. facing unforeseen danger on daily basis, yuelou immediately slips his hand into his jacket and pulls out the revolver from its holster. he opens the wooden gate slowly, trying not to make even a creak from the rusty hinge and accidentally announce his appearance instead.

slowly but steadily, the gap widens and he steps inside with his arms are stretched out, his revolver is ready for some quick shooting. but he is welcomed with his brightly lit house in lieu of a group of opium dealers whose lives he ruined in the past. his eyes widen in disbelief upon seeing steam rising from freshly cooked foods on his dining table. yuelou freezes from his place, his arms gradually lowering themselves as well as his self defense.

soon, a man dressed in a warm ivory white knitted turtleneck appears with two plates of dish in his hand coming out from his kitchen and setting them on the table with other dishes. his hair, as usual, combed neatly—unlike yuelou’s hasty finger-combing technique. he is wearing yuelou’s slipper, the one he left behind in his living room when he was off to work. the moment the said man looks up and meets him in the eyes, a smile blossoms on his face, so beautiful yuelou can feel his heart wrenches from the mere sight.

"yuelou? you're home."

this is the view he's always dreaming of for God knows how long but never dares to tell. to come home to chen yuzhi dressed in a warm clothes, smiling under the bright light of jiang residence and welcoming him with a tight hug. and if he tells him he misses him into his ear, yuelou will pepper him with kisses all over his face, free of charge for undeterminable time, until yuzhi is tired from giggling and trying to escape from his iron grip. until he puts his palm over yuelou's lips as the last attempt to prevent him from attacking his face again and smile playfully at yuelou's temporary defeat. until the glint in his gleaming doe eyes changes into something like want, something that sounds like a request to kiss him properly if yuelou has some energy left to be wasted.

and jiang yuelou will not ask twice if he catches yuzhi's eyes flicker to his lips just once and goes back to meet his eyes. because yuzhi will see him doing the same thing too and he will understand that both of them want it.

jiang yuelou slams the wooden gate close, storming towards chen yuzhi whose eyes widen at his explosive reaction. impulsivity has neither been a best friend nor a rival, in yuelou’s case, but he learns to run for what his heart longs the most. and this is the first time his body really runs for what his heart wants. his heart wants comfort.

the chief throws away his revolver once he is inside his house and immediately reaches out for the doctor. one of his arm pulls yuzhi closer to his body as tight as he could while the other one is fixated on yuzhi's jawline, gently tilting it to a better angle ‘cause,

fuck this.

"yue-"

chen yuzhi never finishes his name as yuelou closes their gap and captures his upper lip, his teeth painfully clashing against yuelou as the latter miscalculates his strength. but yuelou doesn’t stop to apologize like every time he accidentally hurt him, instead crowding him against the dining table and kissing the light out of him as if the last time he had a meal was a thousand years ago.

yuzhi is confused, very confused. this is not their first kiss, but this is the first kiss that yuelou does so overly rough, messy, and raw, like a mass mayhem in a week long blackout. he knows yuelou tends to be stormy when his trauma is triggered or his mission falls by the wayside but he never lets this kind of weather affects his behavior and treatment towards chen yuzhi. after the doctor treats him routinely and he gradually gets better at controlling his emotion.

understanding and patiently waiting are yuzhi’s best weapons to pacify yuelou, returning him back to the ground until both of his feet firmly embed to the soil. he only needs to mold it into a form of physical affection without trying to change his pace. something that jiang yuelou will perceive as an act of submission. only this way, yuelou can and will melt. he is not a man who can be persuaded by asserting one’s power on him, and coercion is never chen yuzhi’s forte anyways.

the doctor gently squeezes yuelou’s shoulder once where he places his hands before and moves to hook them around his neck. he buries his right hand in his black hair, his fingers are warm and heavy against the skin of yuelou’s head. his thumb is rubbing a small circle on his back head tenderly, like a mantra he does it over and over again until jiang yuelou comes back to his sense.

that’s when yuelou’s grip on his waist loosens little by little, his turbulent kissing reduces to a slower and intimate one—the one that always trips chen yuzhi and makes him fall deeper for the other man and his enigma. soft moan slips out of his lips only to get muffled by yuelou’s inadvertent growl. 

they gasp for air eventually but never leaving their hands from each other’s body, not quite ready to let go. in between their huff and puff, yuelou steals a soft kiss on yuzhi’s cheekbone.

“i’m sorry, love. i was–” yuelou hesitantly looks up, straight into yuzhi’s eyes. the decision is a bad move, probably the only bad move that yuelou has ever made ‘cause the emotion in yuzhi’s eyes, they remain calm and considerate, far from judgmental nor do they spiteful. his lips are bruised as hell but his eyes, they never stop glistening with benevolence and never-ending patience towards his lover.

jiang yuelou can’t stand the guilt rising in the depth of his heart after seeing them. they are together, chen yuzhi chooses to be with him not to be his outlet of rage. the image of his defenseless late mother flashes in yuzhi’s face and he instantly regrets whatever he forced yuzhi into earlier. even if it’s just a kiss, something he did daily, routinely, sneakily, wholeheartedly, nothing really abusive and malignant about it but yuzhi might be hurt today. and if yuelou hurts him, he is breaking his own rule written on the very top of the list.

“yuzhi, i’m sorry i–” chen yuzhi slides his hands, cupping the older man’s face that looks like a 13 year old boy now under the weight of his guilt. smiling ever so fondly, he says, “you are tired, love.”

words stuck in yuelou’s throat for the third time upon seeing yuzhi’s eyes that have perfectly sensed his weary and withheld agitation. it’s his red light, then. it’s time for him to let yuzhi take control of the situation and do his part of the day. to do what he is the best at that yuelou is the worst at. any other matters can wait until yuzhi deems him to be fully loaded with ammo and health again.

jiang yuelou leans forward into chen yuzhi’s body, resting his feverish forehead on the crook of his lover’s neck, seeking comfort and humanly touch. yuzhi can’t help smiling at yuelou’s clinginess—he never says it but he absolutely loves it. love the idea to take care of the most troublesome chief officer in the whole jing city. love the way his toned muscles and tensed neck relax under his lithe fingers as he bathes him in a bathtub.

“let me prepare hot water for your bath.”

“will you wash my hair too?”

“hm.”

“what else will you wash?”

chen yuzhi presses a kiss on yuelou’s cheek, whispering “make a wish” before walking towards the kitchen, and disappear behind the white wall.

[shadowsfascination]

Shadamy swordland AU - part 4

The air was knocked out of Amy’s lungs by his statement and her skin paled, drawing long shadows over her usually cheerful face. Her head began to ache and she rubbed her forehead as if to rub to swirl of emotions inside her away. Shadow on the other hand crossed his arms and legs, a hint of sorrow playing his ruby eyes.

Amy hunched her back and leaned on her hands, eyed Shadow and drew a breath. She intended to speak, but found no words. Instead she watched the light of the flickering candle cast constantly changing shadows on him, the warm tones of its’ flame contrasting with the now chilly atmosphere between them.

Unaware of it Shadow gritted his teeth in distress. At a total loss for words or the slightest idea how to behave in this situation, he chewed his lip and mildly pinched his arms. He couldn’t talk anymore. It was somehow beyond his control and he despised powerless it made him feel. His body froze and the longer the silence lasted, the further the words drifted away from him. Meanwhile his mind became a cacophony of tangled, blurry thoughts.

I have to snap out of this!

Shadow took a deep breath and closed his eyes, tracing the source of the messed up chaos energy in his body and changing it into a state of tranquillity again.

“Amy.”

The sudden renewed confidence in him broke not only the silence, but the seal between them as well. She couldn’t somehow deny his gaze and locked eyes with him, her eyes full of questions and expectations. He took her hands to cover them in his own. They were warmer than she’d expected.

“I cannot explain any of this to you.”

Amy frowned at him in annoyance and backed off to escape his hold, her eyes starting to blaze. A series of angry growls escaped her lips and she clenched fists. Her knuckles made a cracking sound from it.   “Please, oh please tell me you’re joking!”

He blinked twice, innocence and incomprehension written all over his face.

“I’m not. It would be a poor jest.” “You can’t just drop this bomb on me, fall quiet and then not explain any of it!”

She was prepared for a whole lot of it, but this? – she thought to herself. As soon as the thought landed in the conscious part of her mind she labelled herself a fool, questioning what she did expect from him. She knew Shadow… Why did she keep getting so thrown off by his untactile behaviour?

Blood rushed through her veins at high speed, causing a rustle in her ears. There it was again: the unwanted announcement of her bad temper. He’d soon have to deal with it if he didn’t make haste with properly explaining this… mess! At this rate, she still had control over her temper, but that could change in the blink of an eye. “You’re not saying anything yourself either. Although, knowing you, I hardly believe you don’t have any questions. I’m not throwing that in your face, am I?” “Well, can you blame me?!” “A little, yeah. You carry your heart on your tongue. You always know what to say.” “I don’t right now!” “I don’t believe you. I think you’re trying to spare my feelings and I don’t care for it.”

“Oh no, Shadow. You’re NOT shifting YOUR responsibility to explain who you actually are to me.” “I’m not.” The pink female whirled around and caught his attention with her fierce turquoise orbs. The warm, yellowish tones of the dancing flame were fighting for precedence with the luminary aqua in her eyes. He could see her hands gesturing, signalling him her upset internal state in the blurry background of his view.

“Then talk.”

“I can’t.” “Blast, Shadow! I can’t believe how incredibly rude you are to me! I’m your girlfriend! You’re keeping so many important things from me…I wonder how you in 300 darn years still achieve to be totally oblivious about how to act polite and chivalrous around a woman!”

“You should know me better than to mistake me for a soft, gooey fool who drops every aspect of his personality when with a woman. I might be a knight, but surely I’m not going to be your imaginary heroic boyfriend. Or always treat you like a queen when you’re being a huge pain in the ass, Amy. If that’s what you want, than better rethink your choices…”

Another of her romantic bubbles burst by another blunt statement, one he made her aware of she had it in the first place. Amy shifted her headstrong gaze to the red, green and blue-checked woolen blankets on the bed. Ignoring him, she distracted herself to follow the lines from the wrinkles on them with her fingers. The raw texture of the wool prickled through her gloves. It was a unpleasant feeling and she wondered how he was able to sleep under them.

“… Besides: I’m sharing my deepest secrets with you! Do you think that’s easy for me? What more could you possibly want?” “I want you to explain who on Mobius you are!” she shouted. “I want you to explain how it’s even possible to be that old? I wanna know what you are. A ghost? Some divine creature? And what about your strange, dark powers and the stone?! Did you have kids in the past? What does this all make you?!” Both their ears fell back, the awkward silence became deafening on them. Amy’s eyes reddened from the upcoming tears and anger. She bit her lip and bravely fought against the waterworks. A few salty tears quietly dripped down her cheeks though. Amy battled the strong tendency to cry once more. She felt so hideous whenever she cried- and she did see herself cry before. She felt she looked awful and so she did her uttermost best to hide it- in comparison to when she was a young girl. “What’s it make us? Just tell me.. something! ANYTHING will do!”

Her loud, hoarse voice cracked and she sniffed. Shadow’s hand squeezed and crinkled the blanket with force. He cursed under his breath.

“I KNOW, OKAY?! I know ANY words will do, but there are no words! NONE! They’re stuck! I don’t mean to be rude or inconsiderate of your feelings. Plagues! If anything, that’s what’s making me freeze up. I have no idea at all how to handle this!”

An upcoming sense of guilt sent a series of shivers down her spine. Her stupid pride and temper pushed him too far. A lump in her throat now accompanied the already present stress-related stomach aches.

“I don’t either… It’s scaring me.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Shadow, I don’t want to be the reason you’re holding back. And don’t tell me I’m not, because I know I am. Sorry about that. Just spill. I’ll learn to deal with it.”

“It’s not just that. I can’t verbalize all this.”

He concentrated on the chaos energy in his body once more, shards of them whirling around like a hive of bees. They seemed impossible to catch. His focus shifted to his irregular, high paced breathing and he breathed out some of the stress in his body. The shards immediately lowered their impossible-to-follow rhythm and he was finally able to catch some of them.

I never lose my confidence.

With a certain determination Shadow grasped her gloved hands. They were tensely folded into fists. Their touch revealed the quivers they were both trying to control. Shadow suddenly scooped her onto his lap and then rose to carry her bridal style, all much to Amy’s confusion.

“However, I can show you.”

His signature self-sufficient smile now curved his lips.

“Come on, I’ll carry you. I know how much you love this romance-stuff and I am a knight after all.” He blew out the candle, letting the darkness swallow them entirely before calling out the ‘Chaos control’. With this single chant he overcame the barrier of space and time. The darkness around them swiftly faded into a serene surrounding, filled with flowy, intertwining ruby, royal blue, shiny silver and regal gold ribbons of light.

They weightlessly soared through the pacifying, outstretching void. A sea of glowing orbs laid ahead of them and with confidence. Shadow commanded some of them to come closer, each carrying a memory. He let some fragments play out before her eyes to see for herself what happened in his past, for he was unable to tell her.

It was all there, right before Amy’s eyes: the mystery of what he was, his unknown origin and lonesome existence by surviving everyone he’d ever cared for in the past. He had roamed around the planet for years and years in order to keep his immortality a secret.

There was also a set of painful memories in which he was fighting, on the run or hiding for the many different faces of danger. They were a tad blurry and she couldn’t quite capture the meaning of it. The memory of the unknown hero neared and she witnessed his amazing powers, bravery and strength. It replaced her unsettling state of being with much softer feelings, easing her temper away. Amy smiled when concluded to herself that neither his physics or personality had seemed to change. The Shadow she knew now was as stubborn, blunt, socially awkward, dedicated, loyal and brave as in his past. Without having to verbalize he answered everything she wanted to know and more. Amy’s sweet, caring nature calmed her temper and she empathized with Shadow. She felt for the challenges his long life had brought upon him and pulled him into a deep, consoling hug.

“Shadow, I’m sorry I pushed you. I misjudged and jumped to the wrong conclusion.”

The scenery of his bedroom slowly faded in again and Shadow gently put her down. He lit the candle again. A shameful blush coloured his cheeks and played his eyes. His ears drooped backwards. Shadow felt like he was stripped to the bone. “I know everyone thinks I excel in many things, but communicating my inner state isn’t one of them. It heaves me down whenever I… feel strongly about something. Actions speak louder than a thousand words to me.”

“Thank you for being honest with me, for showing me all this. I imagine it must’ve been hard on you. You seemed so lonesome all these years.”

Hiding his face in his hands, he stared without focal point in his gaze. Shadow broke down internally, forcefully biting the insides of his lips to prevent him from crying like an infant.

“You’ve seen it for yourself now. You’ve seen me fight…My past…It’s the most private thing that I carry with me.”

“You don’t have to carry this burden all by yourself.” “You’re the very first to learn about it.”

“I already assumed I was, given your struggle to share it with me. I’m glad you told me.”

Amy smiled, trying to lighten up the mood again. “It’s awful and humiliating to share. I even killed in the past. I can’t help but feel like a monster sometimes. It haunts me.”

“You’re a knight. There’s times where you’re left no other choice than to eliminate your enemies. If anything, you’re a hero, Shadow.”

“I’m not! You weren’t there! Y-you d-d-don’t…You don’t know…”

He whimpered almost inaudibly while his shaking body sank into her embrace. Amy petted his back and caressed his quills while he hid his face in her chest. She cupped his tear-stained muzzle and made him look her in the eye. When his red, bloodshot eyes met her aqua ones they showed the strong-minded, yet hopelessly emotional Amy Rose Shadow had fallen for.

“There’s still so much that I don’t understand, but my emotional compass tells me you’re reliable and trustworthy. I’d like to believe you must’ve had your reasons… Tell me whenever you’re ready.”

She let herself fall back on the bed and pulled Shadow onto her, snuggling up to him under the prickly woolen blankets. On any other night the knight would’ve protested and let his self-discipline never allow her to stay over, but they were exhausted. Shadow and Amy couldn’t battle their minds anymore and forgot about the possible consequences they’d have to deal with in the morning. It didn’t seem to matter anymore. None of it. Even though their minds were loaded with troubles, which usually would’ve kept them awake, it somehow did not tonight.

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I struggled with this chapter. I’ll try to make the next one more uplifting (: Sometimes it seems to me that neither of these two dorks know a single thing about relationships, yet they have so much love to give to one another. 

I’d appreciate if you share your thoughts and send me a message if you find any annoying typo’s or grammar mishaps. 

@shadamyheadcanons, here you go!

[ashswritingplace]

Escape

This is a short story about a girl who finds herself trapped in a lab with her clone with no obvious way out. It is a much edited and updated version of this story.

“Escape”

A cacophony of clicking clocks echoes through the empty room. The soundwaves crash on countertops, on gleaming flasks and sparkling syringes, on the perfectly bleached tile floor, whirlpooling in my ear like a tsunami of rhythmic sirens. I’d always thought, if ever I should find myself in a laboratory, it would look so much less cliché than this.

For a moment, I am more upset at the banality of my situation than the severity of it. As feeling drips back into my lips, I rise from the thin bed on which I must have been sleeping. The scratchy tattered blankets reach for my hair, eager to ruin perfectly tossed curls. Annoyed, I reach to tie them up, but I realize I do not have my hairpins and clips in the pocket they are always located. I do not have a pocket at all; my elegant gowns have been replaced with a gloomy hospital one, its washed-out greys making my pale complexion even sicklier. My maids will not come to me if I call them, I realize.

Where am I? I do not recall checking myself into a hospital. Perhaps I had grown too ill for even the castle apothecaries, and Mother and Father sent me away. Why do I not remember?

I look around the too-large and too-white room I am confined to. Everything is sparkling, as if some janitor has just finished scrubbing the place. There are several machines, large and intimidating, all eerily silent. I cannot begin to guess at what they do. The bed I am on is small, pitiful, and there is an identical one beside it. On that one, a girl rests. She snores silently, and as I move to get a better look at her, I see that she is dressed in a similar grey gown. Her dark curls fall like a mane on her paper-thin pillow, and some spill onto her childlike face. She is the result of bred and pampered beauty, the heir of nobility. For several moments, I watch her chest rise and fall with her subconscious breaths. She is completely unaware of me, the spitting image of her.

I haven’t the time to wonder from whence this twin of mine came, or why she and I are here. I cast my gaze once more around the room, searching for any sort of clue of an escape route.

This hospital is void of medics. The various colored liquids on the countertops bubble ominously. Scientists’ tools glisten under harsh candlelight from the hanging lanterns. Between the tools and vials on the counters is an old, black, leather-bound book. Its pages are yellowed, its cover scuffed, but despite its filth, I must find answers. Casting a quick glance at the girl on the bed, I tenderly pick up the book and open it.

It is a medical journal. The penmanship inside is a collection of sloppy scribbles. Each entry is dated in a format I do not understand. I flip through a few entries, skimming, until I find one about me:

Lady Ambriella rests in the cot set aside for her. Such a struggle was not expected during the abduction, but the team managed to overpower the persistent noble. Her wounds, though not fatal, will require careful observation. Awaiting results on further testing.

Struggle? Abduction? How would I have forgotten something like that? I doubt the book’s words, but a ravenous hunger fills me. I need to read more, to know what these madmen are writing about me.

Experiments were successful. Lady Ambriella and the clone sleep peacefully now. When testing independently, the clone reacts to stimuli and functions in identical manners to the lady herself. Creation of a perfect human copy has been successful. How fortunate that we snagged someone with such a ransom. The whole team now will be so, so wealthy. I am filled with joy just thinking of it. What a prize our little lady is proving to be.

Tears catch somewhere in my throat. What despicable human being would have stolen me for ransom? What breed of monster would try to clone me?

I flip to the most recent entry:

No great researchers have ever been without their losses. Today the unspeakable happened. When the team returned to the lab this morning, the lady and clone were communicating amicably. There was nothing out of the ordinary. It is still unknown what brought about the sudden attack from the clone. Lady Ambriella was stabbed several times across her body. A researcher attempted to pry the clone from her, but the clone turned her attack to him instead, fatally wounding him. The team was able to induce slumber in the lady and the clone after some struggling. After treating the lady’s wounds, we thought it necessary to wipe both their memories of the incident. Finally, mankind has succeeded in creating a human being, but it has created a murderer.

The entries stop there. Slowly, my eyes rise from the leather-bound book and creep towards the girl on the bed. She is my clone. She has tried to kill me. If she wakes up, when she wakes up, will she try it again?

Hands trembling, I set the book down and scan the room for a weapon. Frantically I grab a syringe and medical scissors and clutch them within my hand. They stripped me under this gown; I have nowhere to hide them. Then, I search for a way out of this room and away from that murderer.

There are no windows here, and only a single vent too tall and narrow to be useful to me. The double door in the room is guarded by a kind of lock beside it. Its gears and springs intertwine intricately, and I know not where I can find the key that may fit into its hole. The scientist tools and sinister medical substances are foreign to my eyes, the toxins and sharp edges threatening, but I know none of them have the answer I seek.

I return to my bed, all the while watching the other girl. She is crafted of my DNA, closer to me than any human being ever could be. And yet, she has tried to kill me.

I lay down again and tuck my weapons under my pillow. Perhaps, I allow myself to hope, this is only a terrible, terrible dream. When I wake, I will be back at the manor, with Mother and Father, the duke and duchess, and I will resume my duties as a noble lady of Aruldelle. None of this nightmare will have happened.

I drift off knowing far better.

жжж 

When I wake again, I am staring into my emerald eyes, reflected in the flabbergasted girl standing over me. Startled, I sit up, grabbing my weapons. I watch as she looks me up and down, scoffs, then turns away. When she realizes we are alone, she turns back to me.

Her voice is icy, accented by the peaceful green birthplace we take pride in. “Who are you?” It is more a demand than a question, and her unwavering gaze would intimidate someone who could not see her fear.

I see no reason to lie. I respond evenly. “I am Lady Ambriella Marie O’Haire.”

She rolls her eyes. “Your response lacks comedy, and I haven’t the time for your trivial jests.” I know, like me, she talks more formally when she is irritated. She glares at me and places a fist on either hip. “Who are you?”

Nothing I say will pacify her. Instead, I silently move away from her, inching to the opposite side of the bed.

As expected, this angers her. “Listen here, you brute,” she growls, and she tries to grab at me, but I slip away from her and start towards the counters.

“Be silenced,” I tell her. This makes her angrier, but before she can start yelling at me, I cut her off. “You ought to look at this.”

I pick up the book from where I had set it and hold it out to her. She stares at it for a long time, untrusting, before I shove it towards her and she takes it. I tell her to read through it, and though she hesitates, she complies. I wonder if the journal is true, if she does not recall the atrocities she has committed, but as her eyes scan the pages, wide and teary, my suspicions are confirmed. Her twisted expression of dread and disbelief proves it: they took our memories from us.

Her bright eyes narrow, then widen, and her lips part as if to protest, but she cannot fathom an appropriate response. By the time she finishes reading the entries I point out to her, her hands are shaking. She throws the book at me and glares, defensive. “You tried to kill me?”

What? I hesitate before correcting her. “You tried to kill me.”

She takes several steps away from me. Despite her twenty years, she is a small child trapped in the moment. Seeing her body shake so violently sends shivers down my own spine. I now realize it would have been far smarter to break the news to her another way. She is unpredictable, and as a precaution, I clutched the syringe I grabbed earlier. I prepare for the attack she may now make.

But she does not. She falls, slamming her knees against the pristine tile floors. Seeing her terrified expression on my mirror image unnerves me. For a brief moment, I wonder if I am the thing she is afraid of, or if, like me, she is beginning to question everything she knows about herself.

Is she also thinking of the words in that journal? If our memories of the situation have been erased, how can either of us know who the original Lady Ambriella is? How can we know who is the murderer?

As question after question jumps at my mind, I feel the saltwater start to drip down my cheeks, too. I can hear the other Ambriella, her voice small, soft, terrified, whispering, “I want to get out, I want to get out, I want to get out.”

жжж

For a long time, neither of us dares to move. Neither of us knows what to do. One thing is certain: We must escape before whoever wrote those entries returns.

The other Ambriella is still crying, so I gently place a hand on her shoulder. She whips around, eyes piercing, and demands, “What are you doing?”

I shush her. “Bri, it is important that we find a way out, before someone comes to check on us.”

“Do not call me that like you know me,” she scoffs. “Get off me.”

“I do know you.” I remain still. “I know you better than anyone. Never mind that. We need to get out. You understand that, do you not? If we spend all day crying here, they will return, and they will have our way with us. Is that what you want?”

She sniffles quietly as she considers my words. Finally, she mutters, “No.”

“Exactly.” I get up and extend a hand to her. “We must go.”

She hesitates, but ultimately she lets me help her up. We then look around the room together. I find nothing new; it is the same vacant room with the eerie equipment and beds and machines. The large doors seem to be the only way out of this place, and the lock beside them is unyielding.

We search for what must be hours in silence. Bri collapses onto her bed, exhausted. “I cannot handle this anymore,” she announces, dramatically throwing a hand over her forehead.

I too am exhausted, but I know sitting around will not get us anywhere. Our lives may be on the line; there is no time to lie down and complain. I return to the lock to the doors and fiddle with the gears. There is no key in this room; we have searched everywhere for one without results. I run my fingers over the fine edges, and the metallic points lightly prod at my fingertips. As I press on one of the gears, the lock pops, though I notice no discernable difference within the mechanism itself.

Bri looks up at the sound. There is a question hanging on her lips, though she does not ask. Instead, she gets up and walks to the doors.

I watch her for a few seconds before returning to the lock, poking and pushing at the gears in any way they allow. In only a few moments, I hear Bri speak.

“You… did it,” she whispers.

I look up suddenly. Bri pushes the doors open, and they yield to her strength. I look down at the lock, puzzled. Had it been so simple all along?

With the doors open, Bri rushes ahead, down the hall the door opens to and beyond. I jog to keep up with her, calling after her to slow down and tread with caution.

She does not heed my words. Her bare feet beat against the polished floor of the corridor. I worry her reckless running will alert someone of our escape.

Suddenly, I hear footsteps approaching from further down the hall. “Bri!” I whisper sharply.

She stops and pauses to look at me, perhaps startled by the tone of my voice. She hears what I hear and freezes, paralyzed, until I catch up to her and move her out of the middle of the hall. We take cover in the nearest room, and only after we’ve caught our breaths do we think to look around.

The lights are dim here, but they are bright enough to reflect off the gelatinous substances contained by the many, many shelved jars in the room. I try to study one of these jars only to see part of something, perhaps someone, swimming ominously inside.

“What are these?” Bri whispers.

I want to soothe the panic in her voice, but I do not know an answer that will do so. “You don’t suppose they might be… real?” I ask, grabbing one of the jars. It contains a thick grey mass with grooves running all over it. The one beside it contains a pumping muscle, fist-shaped. A still-beating heart.

It takes everything I have not to scream. The shivers clawing down my spine leave an agonizing discomfort in their wake. Bri clutches her fists beside me, horrified.

We are both muzzled by the footsteps approaching us. They are right outside the door, so we duck behind shelves, praying we are not visible. Bri is breathing noisily, shaking against me, and I want to silence her, but I know I must be doing the same. We wait for torturous seconds, until the footsteps die down. We are safe.

Bri is frazzled. “What manner of nightmare…” she whispers.

I wonder if I look as petrified as she does. I grab her wrist and pull her out of the room, down the hall, in the opposite direction of the footsteps. We sneak through countless rooms and corridors, searching for any hint at a way out.

We search for what feels like hours, and we are both growing weary. We peek into another room, this one a supply closet of sorts, when the lanterns blow out above us. The lights outside the room all die down too, all at once, as if stopped by magic. We are both bathed in blackness, and I cannot help but scream at the suddenness of it.

Bri forcefully puts a hand over my mouth. “Imbecile,” she spits, “do you want to get us killed?”

The building is much louder in the dark. The ticking of that clock intensifies, a constant drum in my ear. Some animal from within this labyrinthine laboratory yelps frantically, and somewhere else, a man moans. They are sounds just eerie enough to be in nightmares. Bri and I remain still as statues, not daring to give ourselves away.

Then, Bri starts screeching.

I jump away from her. My eyes struggle still to adjust to the darkness, and I can only make out her silhouette. I hear someone else near us now, someone Bri is fighting with. My hands reach blindly to support her, but as my fingers brush her arm, she screams again.

From somewhere down the hall, a candlelight flickers. Its little light is all I need to realize Bri is wrestling a man grabbing her wrists. Without thinking, I swipe at him. He swears under his breath, then seemingly effortlessly, he throws me against a wall. Hefting Bri up, he starts down the hall, towards the candlelight.

It takes me a moment to recover from the impact. Pain blossoms across my spine, but Bri’s screaming spurs me up. I start after them, but it is hopeless. He is too fast, and I am too weak. Helplessly, I watch as they disappear.

Tears fall furiously from my eyes. Now I am alone in this horrid place, and my clone—or perhaps not-clone—has been abducted. I want to scream, but I have learned my lesson.

I know I must continue on. I pick myself up and wander through the dark halls of this prison. Paranoia bubbles inside me, forcing me to stop at every sound, every slight breeze.

I do not know how much time I waste in the dark. My legs grow weary; my face is drenched in tears and sweat. Then, I hear a scream from down the hall. It is my own voice, Bri’s voice. Filled with a new energy, I run the rest of the way to her, hoping I am not too late.

In my pursuit, I run into a dark room. I can make out the pale glow of colorful vials, some fangs and bones of furry corpses. I squint through the darkness, but I can make out little more than that.

“Bri?”

I freeze at the sound of her voice. My eyes scan the room again. Nothing.

“Bri.” The voice is behind my ear now. Cold hands run down my arm, leaving a slimy trail where they touch. A metallic smell assaults my nose. The quiver in her voice as she says our name fills me with unadulterated fear. I cannot force a response.

“They’ve hurt me,” she continues. She has been crying, I can tell. “The bastards have hurt me. Unchain me. Please, you have to unchain me.”

My entire body is paralyzed. I beg my neck to turn, my limbs to reach for her, but I cannot move to help her. I cannot even help myself.

“Bri?” Her voice is a plea, agony. My lips begin to quiver; my hands start to sweat.

She stops waiting for me to answer. “My parents will hear of this,” she says lowly. She is directing her emotions into anger, into hopeful retribution, anything to cope. “I will ensure this place is seized immediately. I am of nobility. How dare I be treated with such hostility, such—”

Her voice is cut off by a thundering crack. She screams, an almost inhuman sound. I do not know what to do.

“Shut up already,” comes an exasperated voice behind her. It is the voice of a man, low and tired. “You complain and complain and complain. I don’t care how much your parents are willing to pay for you. It can’t be worth all this insufferable whining.” He groans. “I should kill you now, while I have the chance. Finally I’d have some peace.”

Bri sharply turns to face him. Her newfound confidence startles me. “Like hell you will! Who are you? Where are we? What mad plot have you concerned me with? I demand answers!”

“Shut up!” There is another crack, another scream.

She stifles a sob. I shiver.

I can hear the man begin pacing. He must be only a few meters from me. My breaths are frantic, uneven; how can he not hear them? I try to take down details, defining characteristics to report later. His dialect suggests he is from the far North. How far are we from the manor, from home? How long until I can return to my people? How long until this horror ceases?

I hear Bri pick herself up. She is silent, though I know she must be holding back tears, too. She has learned her lesson.

The man grunts and starts away. He mutters something about the lighting taking too long to come back, and he kicks something metallic. The sound explodes in our ears, making both of us jump.

I can feel the paralysis lifting then. I turn and reach out for Bri, shushing her before she can protest. I can feel that she is covered in something sticky, something that cannot possibly be blood. My fingers trail her arms, feeling cold cuffs at her wrists. The chains trapping her are large and powerful. I reach for her back, but she violently flinches away. She has been hurt, badly.

From a distance away, I can hear the man fumbling. He manages to light a candle and begins to move back towards us. I gasp and duck out of the light. He somehow does not notice me, and relief blankets me.

He locks eyes with Bri and scoffs. “Look at the mess you’ve made of our floors.”

From the candlelight, I can make out some of his features. His hair is dark and greasy, and his beard and moustache are unkempt. His skin is dirty, nose small, eyes blue. He is no one I recognize, just a barbarian I must get away from, but I cannot leave Bri here, not like this.

I remember the weapons I had grabbed from the other room, the syringe and medical scissors I have been carrying with me. My grasp on them tightens. I run my shaking fingers over them. The scissors are sharp, easily able to cut through human flesh. How many surgeries were made possible because of these? How many lives were lost because of them? The syringe is even sharper. I cannot know what toxins lie in its chamber.

I look up at the man again. He is keeping the candle steady, studying Bri’s pathetic form. Can I do this? If it means protecting myself—if it means protecting Bri—could I really do this?

Slowly I make my way towards him, careful to not make a sound and to stay out of his sight. I hide behind boxes and shelves, anything to shield me from him. Bri notices me approaching. She looks back to the man, reminding him what she will do once she is freed. Her voice lacks the conviction it held earlier. She is distracting him for me. I silently thank her.

Finally, I am close enough to the man that I could reach out and touch him. He does not notice me from the shadows; he is too distracted trying to get Bri to shut up. He must be deaf to not hear the drumming of my heart. I look at his neck, bare and exposed, and my fingers clutch the syringe. Would it kill him? Am I capable of killing someone?

I cannot afford the moral dilemma. I take the syringe and without another thought I plunge it into his neck. He startles and jumps back. He moves to hit me, so I ready the scissors and flinch as I hear the blade slice his hand. The candle falls to the ground, stumbling out of its holder and breaking in two. The light dies away. Once more we are left in the dark.

I flinch and back away, caught in disbelief. The man moans in agony, and I wonder what was in that syringe. I grip the scissors again, ready to defend my life, but the man seems to have stopped. He swats at the air helplessly. His groans grow louder. He sounds as if he is dying. It is my fault.

Finally, he stops making noise. Bri and I are still for a long while, motionless. I am too afraid to check for a pulse. I do not know which outcome would be worse: our assailant still being alive, or me being a murderer. Regardless, for now, once more, we are safe.

жжж

The shock of the situation dies down slowly. I turn to Bri, now only a dark silhouette. “You are okay now.”

I can hear her backing away from me. “You’ve killed him,” she breathes. Her voice is desperate, terrified. “It was you. You were the clone all along, and you tried to kill me, and you killed that researcher, and now you’ve killed him! All this time you had me quaking, thinking What if it was me, that I could ever do something so terrible, but it was you all along!”

She is growing louder, more desperate. I am afraid she will alert someone else. “No,” I plead. I try to grab her, but I cannot see where she is, and I miss. She strains against her chains to get further from me. “No, listen to me. I had to do something, I had to protect you. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Were you carrying that around to attack me?”

Her question silences me. Was I? I bite at my lip, and she understands my silence as an answer on its own.

“You wench!” she spits at me. “Get away from me. Begone with you. How dare you try to touch me, after all you’ve done.” She pulls at her chains again, but she struggles under their weight. “For a moment,” she whispers, “I trusted you.”

I flinch. “But, Bri,” I beg, “I didn’t try to kill you.” But I cannot know that, and my voice wavers in my uncertainty. “I was trying to help.”

“You can help by getting the hell away from me,” she growls. She cries in pain as she tries once more to move her chains. “Leave me alone. I’ll find my own way out of this.”

Her words sting. I do not know if the man behind us is dead; we cannot stay here. But I cannot leave; I have to convince Bri—or perhaps myself—that I am not a murderer.

I move towards her chains and feel where they lead. They stop at the wall, at some sort of lock. I curse the darkness. A key would be impossible to find like this.

Bri is ignoring me. She has run out of energy to fight me, and she is wallowing in her own pity. I wish I could do the same.

We must remain there for hours. The man does not stir once. Bri’s cries fill the room as I search it, feeling around for a key I’ll never find.

I must accept defeat. I fall into a sitting position beside where Bri is propped against the wall.She is silent now and does not stir. I wait a few moments, then call her name. She does not answer me. “Bri,” I call again, “speak to me. I’ll go mad if you ignore me now.”

“Give up,” she snarls. “We are going to die. Do you not understand? No one is going to help us. Stop trying to make this better. Stop waiting here with me like you are some hero. Go. You are free. Figure it out yourself.” She stops and chuckles. “Oh, look at me. I am disgusting and pathetic and talking to a murderer. I just want to die. Kill me already.” She looks up at me. Her green eyes are brimmed with tears. “Kill me.”

I inch away from her. “Do not speak like that—”

It takes her all of her energy to stand up, forcing me out of her way. She grabs fistfuls of my gown, leaving red splotches at her touch. “It is what you wanted all along. Just finish what you started.”

I say nothing. She searches my face for something, anything, but she does not find what she is looking for. Defeated, she melts into my arms, sobbing.

I shift awkwardly, then place a hand on her head and pat her gently. “I’m sorry,” I mumble, almost inaudible.

I cannot take the silence, so I fill it with my own voice. “I miss my Clessia. I miss her beautiful black mane and her soft whinny, and the way she tickles my palm whenever I bring her a carrot. I cannot imagine how she is managing in my absence. She must be so frightened.” I get no response, so I continue. “I miss Mother’s voice. I want her to scold me for talking down to the other nobles or for staying up too late, just to hear her voice again. I wish I could hear the songs Father sings when he is sure no one is listening. I miss my bed, the soft, feathery pillows, my room that smells of lavender. I want to get out of here.”

Once I start, I cannot stop myself. I ramble about everything back home, all the things I may never return to. I wonder if Bri misses them too. For a long while, my voice is the only sound in this godforsaken place. I chuckle softly. “I think I miss the light most of all.”

There is silence once again. Then, “I miss the sun.”

I look up, surprised. Bri has not moved from her position. She exhales deeply.

“I miss the sun too,” I reply. “I miss staring at it so long your eyes hurt.”

“Especially in the summer,” Bri adds. “Mother has told you so many times not to do that.”

“But you know, no matter how much you disobey her, she will still let you try the freshly baked strawberry tart she always has made in the summer.”

We both start laughing. Bri is the first to quiet down. She moves towards me, and though I cannot see her well, I feel her breath on my face. She is staring at me. “We are not so different then, I suppose.”

I chuckle again. “Well, you are my clone.”

She clears her throat. “You are mine,” she corrects, but her voice is free of malice. “Hey Bri?”

“Hm?”

But before she can finish her thought, there is a distant sound down the hall, like someone approaching. Footsteps creep closer, and soon light bathes the room. I stare into the lantern for a moment, panicked. I look to the man on the floor. Blood is dried along the wound on his neck and hands. The syringe beside him is dripping silver.

And then I see Bri. She is squinting into the light too, as if she truly believes it is her sun. Her gown is torn and bloodied, and it is entirely ripped away at her back. Scarlet puddles around her, its sources clear from the various gashes on her body. Her left arm is bent awkwardly, and her eyes are bloodshot, cheeks glistening with tried tears. She has been beaten, whipped. I think she looks pathetic, then I remember she looks like me.

She comes out of her stupor and looks at me. I can see the rusted chains now, the places where they rubbed her wrists raw. She says something, too quiet to hear.

“Oh dear.”

Both of us look up at the sound of a new voice. There is a woman holding the lantern. She is dressed in a tunic and high boots, a simple townswoman. Her brown eyes hold us both, and she takes a woozy step back. “What on earth have they done to you?”

Bri starts crying again, and I can feel hot drops falling down my cheeks as well.

The woman sets the lantern down. She walks to the wall where Bri is chained and fumbles with a ring of keys at her waist. Pulling one, she inserts it into the lock, and Bri’s chains fall away with a metallilc crash.

The woman’s eyes fall over the man, too. No expression crosses her face. She stares at him for a moment, then turns her attention back to us. “Lady Ambriella?”

Bri does not move. I reply, “One of us is.”

“Which one?” She looks between us. “I must return our lady to Lord and Lady O’Haire. They miss her dearly and are so very worried.”

Bri is silent, terrified. She is too weak to respond.

I stand and clear my throat. “It is she,” I say, motioning to Bri. My words surprise myself, even more than they surprise Bri. She looks at me, bewildered, and her lips part to protest, but she is not given the time.

The woman gently places a hand on Bri’s shoulder. “My lady,” she says, bowing her head, “I am so sorry.” She gently soothes her back, runs her hands through her tangled hair. “I will get you cleaned up and returned to the manor. Come now.” She helps Bri to her feet and starts out of the room. Before she leaves, she turns to me. “You should return to the experiment room. Dr. Hambert will be seeking you. With that, she leaves with Lady Ambriella. I think it is the last time I will ever see my other half.

жжж

I do not know how long it takes me to find the room I woke up in. Everything is untouched from how I left it. The leather-bound journal taunts me from where it landed after Bri threw it. I move to sit on my bed, painfully aware of the emptiness of the one next to me.

I do not know when I stop crying. My tears run rivers into the blankets and pillow, soaking my hospital gown.

“Ambriella?”

I do not hear footsteps approach. A firm hand lifts my arm. A short-haired woman stands before me. Her bright eyes squint as she looks over me. “What are you doing here?” When I don’t respond, she turns to the empty bed. “And where is your clone?”

Your clone.

“Lady Ambriella has been taken back to her family,” I choke out. How long will it take to convince myself?

The woman looks to the journal, frowning. “Did Shannon take her?” she asks. She pauses for a moment in thought, then returns to me. Without warning, she pulls down my hospital gown. I protest and struggle to cover my bare chest, but she moves away my arms and motions towards my chest. There, between my breasts, is a scar from a deep wound.

Immediately my mind goes back to the journal. It is still unknown what brought about the sudden attack from the clone. Lady Ambriella was stabbed several times across her body. I was stabbed. I am not the clone.

“A clone took your place,” the woman says. “We ought to get you back and continue our research on her.”

My thoughts rage, an untameable river. I shake my head violently. “No,” I cry, “Lady Ambriella has returned to where she needs to be. You may continue testing on me.” My voice is more forceful and desperate than I intend.

The woman looks me over. Seeing the resolve in my eyes, she finally nods. “I am glad Lady Ambriella will be going home. Get some rest. Tomorrow, testing will continue.” She nods again, and her heels click against the tile floor as she goes out the doors and down the halls.

Alone again, I pick up the journal. I find a quil from the countertop, and I pen the last entry:

Lady Ambriella was returned to the manor today. Testing on the clone will continue as normal. The experiment was undeniably a success.

[solarwindandcosmicash]

priority: c-sec cleanup

start | next

The party is sent to clean up a certain part of a Ward - one floor only, three rooms. Instead of a quick in-and-out, the party discovers three human scavengers illegally siphoning funds as well as a dead elcor politician named Kreena Rivalis. Though they discover that the human scavengers were responsible for the elcor’s death, upon their return to C-Sec they are promptly arrested for the her murder. They manage to talk themselves out of a full sentence, but it doesn’t end up mattering, as they are soon broken out of jail by an agent of the Shadow Broker. Given little choice, they board the agent’s ship and set off for horizons unknown.

summary

The Citadel is in ruins. Planets have been torn asunder. The many races that make up the galaxy are scrambling to build themselves up again and hold onto their positions of power. Billions of people have been displaced, wounded, and killed, and no one knows just how far the destruction has spread.

The government is in chaos. No one the party tends to pay much attention, but they do know that the Council has yet to reinstate a human representative, and other races are demanding their own places at the top – everyone contributed to the fall of the Reapers, after all. So far, there’s been only talk of reconstruction and how supplies and help can’t come from nowhere, and more and more refugees limp into the Citadel day after day. Everyone has heard about the gruesome demise of colonies in the far reaches of the galaxy, so none are refused even with almost no housing left.

The Reapers may be defeated, but there’s still a lot of work to be done.

Each individual in the party finds themselves at the Citadel because there’s plenty of creds to be made, and indeed, the four have already gone to C-Sec to offer their services up in exchange for cash. C-Sec, in turn, shoved the four of them together, and sent the party off to one of the lower Wards to go ‘clean it up’. The Keepers have been busy enough getting things back into shape, but they’ve been told to expect scavengers and other lowlifes. They’ve also been told to try to incapacitate these people non-lethally, and doing so will likely earn them more higher-paying jobs.

The party arrives at their destination via skycar, as the elevators are busted. It ends up being easy enough - the windows to the floor they are exploring are shattered, and Kate maneuvers the car into the small space without any trouble. When the four of them disembark, they are treated to a typical, if a bit depressing, scene.

They’re not in a residential area, so they’re not looking for survivors, and they only have one floor to cover. It’s a relatively wide-open space; they can see down the length of the corridor they’re standing in, and it branches off to two different hallways on the left. To the party’s right is the shattered window that they’d navigated the SkyCar through. At the end of the hallway is a door; the interface is locked out and red. It’s quiet, except for some… rattling? They’re not sure from where, but it’s definitely down one of the two hallways, and the party will have to check out both of them before they can report back to C-Sec.

Phos is quick to take the lead, and after a brief discussion, the party moves towards the locked door at the end of the hallway. Vasir’s technical skills allow for the party to easily break into the room, and Phos’s brief investigation turns up a datapad. It reads the following:

A:

Here are your targets:

Drau Phos, krogan soldier; Vasir’Rama nar Rayya vas Haxorus, quarian engineer; Vekar Orulm, turian sentinel; and Katelyn Hollins, human vanguard.

I’ve included their briefings; please let me know if you require more information. I’ve monitored their entry into C-Sec logs and they should be around Zakera ward, level thirty-two. Please collect them as time allows, with payment upon confirmation of arrival.

You know how to get into contact with me.

F.

During this time, Vekar has a brief moment of disorientation where he walks into a wall, Phos dumps out all of the papers in filing cabinet and throws them on the floor, and Kate finds a Stiletto pistol.

Leaving the room, the party moves to investigate the windows, as the datapad suggests someone is after them. Phos almost jumps out before realizing it’s a thirty-story drop, and she and Vekar manage to determine that no one is around. Thus assured, the party heads for the hall to their left, the one that is furthest away from the skycar and close to the previously-locked room down the hall. Phos takes the lead, subconsciously or not, as she is aware that she can take the most damage out of the party.

Before entering the room at the end of the hallway, Phos takes a moment to fortify herself and then proceeds to open the door. The room past the door is an office much like the one they’d left, with three human scavengers cowered at the back of the room behind an overturned desk and eight husks scattered about. At their entry, five of these husks turn to the party, and the other three continue their assault on the human scavengers.

The fight doesn’t go perfectly, but it does go relatively well. Phos in particular takes out a husk that had been about to kill Kate, while Kate does the same for Phos a few moments later. The whole thing lasts barely three minutes, and by the end, only Vasir and one of the human scavengers have sustained small injuries and the party - and the three scavengers - are no worse for wear.

Vasir’s cat, Muffy, goes to reassure the youngest human scavenger as the party learns that the humans are looking to get off the Citadel. Kate notices that they are siphoning funds from the account of Kreena Rivalis, who Vasir soon discovers is - was - a relatively powerful elcor diplomat. Under pressure, the scavengers eventually admit what they are doing is illegal, but otherwise don’t admit anything else, though the party pieces together that they killed Kreena Rivalis in a desperate bid to get her money to escape. Vasir eventually hacks into the computer remotely and stops the transfer, announcing as such to the room at large.

Phos, frustrated with how slow the pseudo-interrogation is going and how illegal everything is, grabs one of the human scavengers by the neck. She releases the scavenger only when Vasir pacifies her by giving her half of the credits the scavengers were taking, and then the party leaves the room. Kate and Vekar chastise Phos for her actions, but the hypocrisy of the entire spectacle is lost on the krogan. Whatever the case, the party moves on to the next hallway and the next room, and Vekar takes the lead - out of interest of making sure Phos doesn’t do something rash again.

This office contains the body of the elcor official, Kreena Rivalis. The party fans out to search the room, but don’t find anything of interest, as it’s already been cleaned out entirely. Vekar and Vasir are unable to hack into the elcor’s omni-tool and the VI system, respectively, and with nothing else of interest, the party leaves the room and returns to the skycar.

Upon the party’s return to C-Sec, the turian is waiting for them and arrests them on the spot. It turns out the human scavengers had ratted them out for killing the elcor official, and as they’re dragged to the cells, the party pleads their case. Vekar and Vasir are unable to talk to the officials without being met with scorn, but Phos decides to take an alternative route and successfully hits on the chief of C-Sec, convincing her to at least listen to the party’s explanation and the chief promises to visit the cell later. Kate is able to convince the chief to listen to their case after this.

Vasir shows the chief their omni-tool, convincing her that they’re innocent - of murder, at least. They did technically loot an office and take money from an official’s account, but the chief, feeling generous, gives them the ultimatum: they stay in the holding cell for a night, and then they are free to go. The party agrees to this, and so they enter the cell quietly and wait. Halfway through the night cycle, however, Vekar and Kate notice someone at the door. It turns out to be a salarian, who breaks them out and leads them away to one of the hangars scattered about the Citadel.

The salarian stops in front of a ship, surveys them, and says, “Well, I suppose the Shadow Broker is getting desperate.”

notable lines

Vekar: The blind turian makes a perception check.

DM: Do you say any cool, badass one-liners while you do this? Kate, mournfully: I don’t have any cool one-liners.

Phos: Are you related to [Kreena Rivalis] at all? (Human) Scavenger: Do I look like an elcor to you?

Vasir: I‘m not here to moralize, I’m here to deescalate this ridiculous situation.

technical notes

Vasir unlocks the hallway door. Technical roll. 1d20 + tech → 18 + 4 → 22 Vasir opens the door. They make it look easy.

Phos checks for enemies before entering the room. Perception roll. 1d20 + perc → 12 + 3 → 15 Phos can tell the room is safe, and she also spies the datapad on the desk.

Vasir learns more about the datapad. Technical roll. 1d20 + tech → 11 + 4 → 15 Vasir tries to learn more about the datapad, but it shuts down remotely before they get anything.

The party examines the room. Investigation check. 1d20 + perc

Vekar → 3 - 4 → -1 Vasir → 9 + 0 →  9 Phos → 14 + 0 → 14 Kate → 18 + 1 → 19

Kate finds a pistol in the desk. Phos finds papers and tosses them on the ground. Vasir notes the computer in the room is dead. Vekar walks into a wall.

Vekar and Phos check for an ambush at the windows. Perception roll. 1d20 + perc

Phos → 16 + 3 → 19 Vekar → 11 - 4 → 7

Phos and Vekar note that there are no ambushes or enemies outside the window.

Phos uses a talent slot. Phos activates Fortification, granting her +2 to her AC for three turns. She has three talent slots remaining.

The party rolls initiative. Initiative roll. 1d20

Vasir → 18 Phos → 15 Kate →  15 Vekar → 13

A husk attacks one of the human scavengers. Attack roll. 1d20 → 18 This is sufficient to hit.

Damage roll. 1d4 + Drain → 4 + 1 = 5 The husk claws at the human’s shoulder, causing 5 points of damage.

Vasir uses Overload on two husks. Attack roll. 1d20 → 8 This is not sufficient to hit.

Vasir tries to use Overload, but the two husks they are targeting dodge out of the way.

Phos shoots one of the husks with her shotgun. Attack roll. 1d20 → 14 This is sufficient to hit.

Damage roll. 3d4 → 9 Phos takes aim and shoots the husk in the head, killing it instantly.

Movement. Phos uses the rest of her movement to move in front of Vasir.

Kate shoots one of the husks attacking the scavengers with her pistol. Attack roll. 1d20 → 11 This is sufficient to hit.

Damage roll. 2d4 → 6 Kate takes aim and shoots the husk in the head twice, killing it easily.

Movement. Kate moves further into the room and out of the doorway.

Vekar shoots one of the husks with his assault rifle. Attack roll. 1d20 → 8 This is not sufficient to hit.

The husk ducks under Vekar’s shot, avoiding it narrowly.

A husk attacks one of the human scavengers. Attack roll. 1d20 → 6 This is not sufficient to hit.

The human dodges out of the way of the husk’s claws.

A husk attacks one of the human scavengers. Attack roll. 1d20 → 3 This is not sufficient to hit.

The human dodges out of the way of the husk’s claws.

A husk attacks Phos. Attack roll. 1d20 → 18 This is not sufficient to hit.

The husk tries to claw Phos but only manages to scratch her armor.

A husk attacks Phos. Attack roll. 1d20 → 1 Crit fail.

The husk tries to show the other husk out of the way to attack Phos, gets shoved to the ground, and is prone.

Phos takes an attack of opportunity. Phos takes a shot and kills the husk instantly, gaining an advantage on her next roll.

A husk attacks Kate. Attack roll. 1d20 → 20 Crit.

Damage roll. (1d4 + Drain) x 2 → (4 + 1) x 2 → 10

Phos uses her advantage and changes it into an extra action to charge the husk attacking Kate. Attack roll. 1d20 → 14 This is sufficient to hit.

Damage roll. 1d8 → 6 Phos charges the husk into the wall, killing it.

A husk attacks Vasir. Attack roll. 1d20 → 19 This is sufficient to hit.

Damage roll. 1d4 + Drain → 4 + 1 → 5 Vasir takes a hit and loses 5 points of health.

A human scavenger attacks one of the husks. Attack roll. 1d20 → 18 This is sufficient to hit.

Damage roll. 2d4 → 6 The human scavenger kills the husk.

A human scavenger attacks one of the husks. Attack roll. 1d20 → 15 This is sufficient to hit.

Damage roll. 2d4 → 8 The human scavenger kills the husk.

The human scavenger attacks one of the husks. Attack roll. 1d20 → 3 This is not sufficient to hit.

The scavenger’s shot goes wide, narrowly missing hitting anyone in the party.

Vasir melees the husk that had attacked them, combining it with a talent. Vasir combines Incinerate with their omni-blade, spending one talent slot. They have three talent slots remaining. This combo gives them advantage on their attack roll and extra damage if they hit.

Attack roll. 1d20 → 12 This is sufficient to hit.

Damage roll. 1d8 + fire damage → 1 + 2 → 3 Vasir only just manages to clip the husk, causing bonus fire damage.

Phos picks up one husk and throws it against the other in the hallway. Strength check. 1d20 + strn modifier → 1 + 4 → 5 Crit fail.

Phos tries to pick up the husk, but the husk slips free and she falls over with the husk on top of her. She is now prone.

The husk takes an attack of opportunity. Attack roll with advantage. 1d20 → 6, 1d20 → 14 This is not sufficient to hit.

The husk tries to bite Phos, but only bites part of Phos’s armor. This does no damage.

Kate melees the husk attacking Phos. Attack roll. 1d20 → 15 This is sufficient to hit.

Damage roll. 1d8 → 4 Kate stabs the husk in the head with her omni-blade, killing it.

Vekar melees the husk that is on fire, combining it with a talent. Vekar activates Tech Armor, granting him +3 to AC and spending one talent slot. He has three talent slots remaining.

Attack roll. 1d20 → 20 Crit.

Damage roll. 1d8 x 2 → 7 x 2 → 14 Vekar stabs the husk in the head with his omni-blade, killing it instantly.

Phos finds something to clean the gore off of her. Investigation check. 1d20 + perc → 18 + 3 → 21 Phos finds a soft, beautiful hand-made quilt in one of the cabinets, ruining it forever as she wipes husk innards off of her armor.

Phos tries to intimidate the human scavengers to let Vasir see the computer behind them. Intimidation check. 1d20 + know → 17 + 0→ 17

The human scavenger rolls a saving throw. 1d20 + know → 20 + 2 → 22 Crit.

Phos does frighten the human scavenger, but the scavenger stands her ground.

Kate and Vasir check to see what’s on the computer behind the scavengers. Perception check. 1d20 + perc

Kate → 20 + 1 → 21 Vasir → 14 - 1 → 13

Kate notes the name the account is under and the amount of credits being transferred.

The human scavenger sees Kate type something in her omni-tool. Perception check. 1d20 + perc → 17 + 0 → 17 The scavenger notices Kate typing, but she doesn’t know what.

Kate persuades the scavengers into telling them what they are doing. Vekar backs her up. Persuade roll with advantage. 1d20 + perc → 16 + 1 → 17, 1d20 + perc → 11 + 1 → 12 The scavenger admits that they’re taking money from a politician, but that’s it.

Kate persuades the scavengers into splitting the money. Persuade roll. 1d20 + perc → 16 + 1 → 17 The scavengers refuse to split the money.

The party checks to see if the scavengers are lying about killing the politician. Perception roll. 1d20 + perc.

Phos → 14 + 3 → 17 Kate → 15 + 1 → 16 Vekar → 17 - 4→ 13 Vasir → 13 - 1 → 12

Phos sees that the scavengers are hiding something, but she doesn’t know what.

Phos types into her omni-tool. Technical roll. 1d20 + tech → 9 Phos opens her omni-tool, but she doesn’t manage to type out a message.

Vasir stops the money transfer remotely. Technical roll with disadvantage. 1d20 + tech → 12 + 4 → 16, 1d20 + tech → 9 + 4 → 13 Vasir manages to stop the money transfer.

Phos lifts one of the human scavengers by the neck. Strength roll. 1d20 + strn → 19 + 3 → 22

The human scavenger contests. 1d20 + str → 14 + 1 → 15 The scavenger fails the contest.

Phos lifts the human by her neck, careful not to strangle her.

The party spreads out to examine the elcor official’s office. Investigation roll. 1d20 + perc.

Kate → 13 + 1 → 14 Vasir → 13 - 1 → 12 Phos → 3 + 3 → 6 Vekar → 9 - 4 → 5

The party fails to locate the elcor’s ID chit, and they do not find anything of interest in the room.

Phos throws papers onto the ground. Dexterity roll. 1d20 + dex → 5 Phos overturns a cabinet and dumps paper all over the ground. The cabinet is dented and doesn’t stand upright afterwards.

Vekar hacks into the elcor’s omni-tool. Technical roll. 1d20 + tech → 7 Vekar fails to hack into the elcor’s omni-tool.

Vasir hacks into the elcor’s VI. Technical roll. 1d20 + tech → 9 Vasir tries to hack into the VI, but it shuts them out and, without the ID chit, they are unable to get into the system.

The party rolls to see who is driving the skycar. 1d20

Kate → 19 Vasir → 14 Vekar → 12 Phos → 11

Kate drives the skycar.

Vekar pleads their case to the C-Sec officials. Vasir backs him up with their omni-tool data. Persuasion roll with advantage. 1d20 + know → 6 + 3 → 9, 1d20 + know → 1 + 3 → 4 Vekar tries to talk to the C-Sec official, but before Vasir can even try to show them their omni-tool to corroborate the story, their arm is slapped away.

Phos seduces the C-Sec chief. Persuasion roll. 1d20 + know → 20 + 0 → 20 Phos successfully seduces the turian with the most beautiful love poem known to all sapient species.

Kate pleads their case to the C-Sec officials, with Phos backing her up after her successful hit on the chief. Persuasion roll with advantage. 1d20 + know → 18 + 0 → 18, 1d20 + know → 20 + 0 → 20 Kate convinces the C-Sec officials to at least listen to them for a few moments.

The party rolls a perception check. Perception roll. 1d20 + perc.

Kate → 20 + 1 → 21 Vekar → 20 - 4 → 16 Phos → 9 + 3 → 12 Vasir → 14 - 1 → 13

Kate and Vekar see the salarian outside their cell despite the tactical cloak. They both also see that the salarian has an STG pistol.

Kate and Vasir fight for shotgun in the skycar. 1d100

Kate → 38 Vasir → 37

Kate manages to get shotgun, and Vasir grudgingly sits in the back with Phos and Vekar.

The party rolls an investigation check. Investigation rol. 1d20 + know.

Vekar → 14 + 3 → 17 Kate → 16 + 1 → 17 Phos → 15 + 0 → 15 Vasir → 14 -1 → 13

Vekar correctly identifies the Apricity as a salarian frigate, and notes that its configuration suggests it is better-suited for stealth.

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