IC Inbox

[retested]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, AMANDA. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 102.92.004.06 *** gameover has joined 102.92.004.06 <gameover> This is Amanda. <gameover> If you need to contact me, do so here. <gameover> DO NOT waste my time with stupid shit.

Comments

<saturnschild>

[marcato]

You're so special dear Amanda you're so good it's no wonder you're Her first priest it's no wonder that She loves you as much as She does. She won't forget me. I'm one of Her treasured priests.

Thank you.

<gameover>

[retested]

[It's no wonder she loves you as much as she does is more than enough to get right to her heart; the rest is just icing.]

Who's threatening you? Let me help.

<saturnschild>

[marcato]

Dear Amanda you're so thoughtful and dedicated but only I can fix this only I can make things Even I will snap their limbs and give them their due

tell me again that she won't forget me

<gameover>

[retested]

She won't forget you. I swear it.

[It's so goddamn weird, being on the reassuring end of something like this.]

What did they do to you?

<saturnschild>

[marcato]

I don't want to die

<gameover>

[retested]

So LET ME HELP YOU.

[marcato]

[But the messages have stopped.]

[marcato]

This one works a little differently than the gun in the arena.

[Without missing a beat, he snaps off his own pinky. There's a wave of nausea that nearly knocks him off his feet, but he remains steady. In control.

He hands it up Amanda. ]

It requires ammunition.

[If she holds the bone close to the gun, it'll turn into a fine mist and disappear inside the cylinder. An electronic screen on the side of the gun slides from 0 to 1. ]

There's a comforting symmetry to it, don't you think?

[retested]

[That's absolutely ghastly, and Amanda sideeyes Aunamee intensely as he passes her the detached finger. Really, man? Really?]

"Comforting." Sure. [Symmetrical, yes, but that's the most she'd agree with. She doesn't need to look very long for a chamber to hold the severed digit; it simply melts into a mist and loads itself once close to the weapon. She taps the screen just to see what it's made of.]

So...you gotta do that every time you need a bullet?

[marcato]

[His jaw tenses at the sarcasm, and for a moment, he pictures using the gun on Amanda. But the anger disappears as quickly as it arrived.]

Yes.

[He sounds as calm and pleasant as ever.]

If you wish to borrow it, I'll lend you the ammunition. Of course. It's majestic in your hands.

[retested]

[Not even Amanda's mood swings are quite so rapidly changing as his; she's just much worse at hiding hers, leaving Aunamee looking entirely calm and collected in comparison. If she could get a peek inside his head even she would feel slightly unsettled, and she's the queen of sudden lapses into rage.]

I'll hold you to that. [With a little grin. But...she gestures with the gun at empty air.] What or whom should I test this on?

[marcato]

I was hoping we could find a test subject together.

[Casual, like they're discussing dining options. He doesn't seem to notice his missing pinky. No fidgeting. No pawing at the empty space. For a man who likes feeling whole, it's been quite the adjustment. ]

You'd pull the trigger, of course. Or force them to pull it, if you'd prefer.

[retested]

[She scoffs at that last idea.]

Like I'd give one of those worthless fucks the pleasure of firing this thing.

[No fucking way. This is HER moment.]

Wanna see what I did to Fiddleford in that simulation town? I'm sure you'd appreciate it.

[She still doesn't know that Aunamee helped create that event, that he's already seen everything she did within it.]

[marcato]

Oh yes.

[He did see it -- in fact, he felt it in his mind. But much like a good book, some things are worth revisiting.

He produces his Dyster key and inserts it into the door behind him.]

How many bullets do you need to recreate the tableau?

[retested]

[It doesn't take long to tally the count in her head.]

Four, unless you'd rather I save you some fingers by skipping to the grand finale.

[marcato]

[He breathes a laugh]

No. I want to see the whole thing.

[He opens the door, revealing an alleyway in Bavan. He gestures for Amanda to go first, smooth and practiced like a courtier.]

Besides, I've saved six of the bones in my ear for this very occasion.

[retested]

[She passes him into the alley with a genuinely amused grin. His little affectations can be fun to witness.]

That's not gonna fuck up your hearing?

[marcato]

No more than not having a tongue ruins my speech.

[He removes the key from the door before sliding it back into his secret pocket. The door to his Dyster mansion closes behind him.]

I'm nothing but bones, Amanda. [It's not obvious, given the way he pads his clothes, how he hides himself in masks and white fabric.] With Her help, I defy biology.

[retested]

Just making sure. It pays to know beforehand.

[It's the principle around which she's rearranged her entire way of being: learn to anticipate everything and you leave nothing to chance.

Coming out on the street at the mouth of the alley, she begins to people-watch.]

Pick one. Your gun, your choice.

<saturnschild>

[marcato]

There are some people I'd like you to help me kill.

<gameover>

[retested]

Sure. Who?

<saturnschild>

[marcato]

Their names aren't important. They're humans, and I already have them.

[He sends her the address to a warehouse in West Bavan. ]

I was hoping we could sacrifice them together.

<gameover>

[retested]

I'm always happy to sacrifice in Her name.

Want me to meet you now?

[marcato]

I'd be overjoyed.

[The warehouse is unremarkable. Boring. When Amanda steps inside, however, she'll find that the floors are free from dust and the walls are free from spiderwebs. It's old, but pristine. Anyone who knows Aunamee would recognize his handiwork.

He doesn't greet her at the door. Instead, he waits for her in a nearby hallway, standing over a man who's been bound to a chair. Muffled cries emanate underneath the bag over his head.]

It's good to see you, Amanda. It's been some time.

[retested]

[Aunamee would have hated working in John and Amanda's workshops: tools and materials scattered everywhere, rust and chipped paint, the occasional spill of gear grease on work tables. Amanda can almost see him angrily cleaning and organizing it all, even though she and her chosen father knew where each and every little thing rested within the mess. A method to the madness.

Amanda stalks in with two of her hands inside her coat pockets; three others are free, and the last carries her hunting knife. She doesn't expect Aunamee to attack her, but who knows what might go wrong while they're working? Constant vigilance is her way of life.]

Yeah. [She's not going to broach the topic of that length of time, because she's doing her absolute fucking best to repress the space whale trauma.] You look well.