[Desolation] Chapter 2: Hard-held

...she may not survive the crack. Perhaps they even bread her to die if she succumbed. "Slavers. Who? Where?" She hobbles over, sword a cane, favoring her wounded leg. "Please, hurry..."


A gentle touch on the woman's cheek, a manipulative pet. The warmth of Ryoma's hand may keep her conscious.
 
Hooper


Hooper had been simply shifting her weight from leg to leg. Waiting for Ryoma to get the name of whatever pissed off chopper or decimated Hardholder had hired the assassin to kill her. Hundreds, maybe more, had all come after her. They all had their reasons for wanting her dead but Hooper didn't care. She didn't care not out of lethargy but because they didn't matter. Just her and her face. That's all that mattered and all she cared about. The metal bowl that had saved her, was her refuge, her strength, her lover, her friend and the keeper of all her emotion and soul. Her face was all of that.


The words the assassin said now, about the ones that took her face before. They wanted both of them back.


Hooper cared about that.


Her wheezing starts to pick up in pace, anger rising in both Hooper and being stoked by the silent rage of her face. It's as if her entire body seems to heave in anger as she takes her breath. Not many got to see Hooper angry. None had been in a state of solidity to spread the word.


Her vision starts to blur as she looks at the Assassin being cradled by the pretty Red color. The assassin was them the assassin was them the Assasin was them the Assasin was them the Assasin was them the Assasin was them...


Her hand digs into the leather grip as she reaches down for the injured woman's skull.


Hooper was declaring war and she needed something to send them.
 
Ryoma sees the movement and instantly rises, blocking Hooper with an outstretched arm. "No, Hooper. Not her. Not like this. There are better ways."
 
Hooper


Her body tenses, each word seems to drag itself out from under a weight of unbridled anger.


"Don't talk...to me like I am one of her. I am not her and not them. She is not free. She cares and lets them tell her. Her head goes back to them, her body can stay."


She starts breathing harder, really getting worked up.


"Does your arm go with it?"


A sharp moment of clarity. She didn't want to hurt Ryoma but things had to be done to kill them. Others never had the stomach to listen and they died. They had to not care.
 
"Stop, Hooper. Breathe deep, and listen. Killing this girl? They expect that. All you will do is tell them what they already knew: you are implacable. Violent. Relentless. They know that full well. What they do not expect is for you to wield her as you wield that machete in your arm. They will become frightened. Send her back, have her infiltrate their ranks, then strike. They will know a new kind of terror: what of their agents have been corrupted? What haven't? How much of their operation do you know of? With that knowledge in their brain, they will see you in every shadow."


"Tell me, is that more terrifying than a head in the mail?"
 
Hooper


The air is thick with the feeling of imminent violence. That feeling seemed to follow Hooper wherever she went.


For a long moment, she just stands there. Hooper wanted to kill the assassin, to tear the spine out and start a pile at the front gate for them. Her face though was always better at the long term thoughts.


She stands there, in furious debate with herself for another silent minute or so. Eyes detached from the world as each path is thought over and argued.


"I don't need her. I don't care, I'll kill them myself"


Her hands loosen up before stepping back. Hooper shakes once, venting the anger from her muscles and turns. She didn't need those two. Everyone failed at keeping things out and lately she was too static. She was going to go to the walls and watch the waste herself. No patrol pattern, no logic, Hooper was going to cover every inch of this place with her own two feet. Hooper would be everywhere and no where.


The halls echo around her as she starts back to the market. If Graves was there, she'd let him know eventually that they were probably coming. For now, it was just going to be her and her face.
 
I fucking hate being shot. Mind you most people don't want to be shot in the first place, but those people are also pretty scared about it. I've been shot, more than I want to be. After awhile it just gets fucking annoying if it gets through the armor. You gotta see if the round went through and if not pull the damn thing out and hope there isn't any fragments in there. Then the spot that got shot is messed up for a good while if it goes back to normal. So I swear if I lose any use of any piece of me I'm gonna drag Jabber's fucking corpse out into wilds and feed it piece by piece to some critter.


So yeah, I get the fuck up. I can't even feel the weight of my armor anymore, adrenaline has me flying higher than Bean gets when she rides into the psychic shit. The only thing I'm feeling right now is the ache of that round he shot and Heckler. I can't fucking believe I made a goddamn speech for that piece of shit and decided to deny sweet Heckler the chance for a use. Maybe I'm coming down with a sickness, maybe the food at the lunch hall was bad. I don't know, but that's honestly beside the fucking point. Just by instinct I've checked the safety and the feed, everything is a go. Fuck, I'm pretty certain Heckler would've prepped himself in anticipation of this.


My footsteps as I come back around the truck sound loud. Unnaturally so, they seem to drown out everything else I can hear. Something about your awareness can cause you to focus on something. Like right now, the rythmn of my steps. All I can think of is a half remembered quote about a bell tolling, and it tolls for fucking you Jabber.


"Seven point six-two by fifty-one millimeter mother fucker."


Is the last thing I say to him before I pull Heckler's trigger and the automatic weapon kicks, as if in joy and release, and belches out lead in the just recently spoken measurements. I can't help myself but I'm fucking smiling underneath the gorget and fuck does it hurt with the scar tissue on my mouth. The adrenaline is taking the edge off of it and the vindication more than makes up for what's left of the pain.


AGGRO THE SHIT OUT OF HIM ARRRRRRRGH D=<


Edit realization: Hurm. Actually, wouldn't I just roll harm instead of aggro?
 
Graves


Exile him, and he'll come back angry. Roark was a resourceful second, and he doesn't feel like he did wrong. Exile looks like favoritism, sets up a bad precedent. Just 'cause I made the law don't mean I get to bend it.


Graves pulls the trigger.
 
Sister Red


"You know, in all this excitement, I forgot." Red Bean smiled at Lumpy, a wicked smile that let him know not only that she had won, but that he also missed his chance to run away.


"When there's no future


How can there be sin


We're the flowers in the dustbin


We're the poison in your human machine


We're the future, your future.


God save the Queen


She ain't no human being


There's no future


In England's dreaming."


"OH, yes, now I remember. You hate me. You detest me. Why?" Her blood was up now, she felt the flush that made her skin even redder than normal. She didn't know why he was here, why she hadn't bothered before. Maybe she needed to sort out her house, to look into the chior and see who was really with her, and who was looking for a free ride. Maybe it was time for a purge.
 
Claire


Awesome.


Amber smiles again.


"I've been ... good. Good."


You can see in her eyes, she's lying.


"What about you? I feel like I haven't seen you in so long. How long has it been?"


This might be a good time to read a person.


Ryoma


You're left alone as Hooper stalks off.


The assassin looks up at you with the last of her strength.


"They're coming ... The Grey."


She closes her eyes and begins to let herself slip away.


You know The Grey is what the nearby city is called.


What do you do?


Koch


This wouldn't be just him taking harm because he is still able to defend himself.


You just have the drop on him.


Things can still go horribly wrong for you.


So, go aggro and describe to me how you do it since you count as a gang.


Graves, Hooper


Hooper, you head back out to the courtyard and the markets.


Climbing the wall again, you find Graves holding Roark, his second-in-command, at gunpoint.


Graves, makes sense to me.


You pull the trigger and blow a massive chunk out of Roark's side.


He goes down with a scream.


He writhes on the ground vainly, still alive, but barely.


What do you both do?


Red Bean


Lumpy screws up his face.


"Because every time you open you fucking mouth, you spew that shit. Because you speak like you know something about the fucked up shit out there and you have no idea. Because I'm tired of your self-righteous bullshit. And you know what? Mill pays better than you."


What do you do?
 
Hooper


I nearly step on the downed man. Not ignoring, just not even recognizing him with any care. "People coming to try and kill us. Raiders mostly. I'll be around. You should be concerned."


I step around the man, starting my watch of the walls.
 
"The Grey?" Ryoma jams a finger against the woman's wound to give her a shot of adrenaline. "We need more! What direction? One thing, girl, one more, and I will tell you the secret of enlightenment in death!"
 
Claire


You're right.


You get to mark XP.


Now, you get hold 3 and you spend 1 hold to ask one of these questions:


- is your character telling the truth?


- whats your character really feeling?


- what does your character intend to do?


- what does your character wish I'd do?


- how could I get your character to __?


During conversation with the character, you can dop these questions in.


Notice they're Player to MC or Player to Player questions.


So you don't have to try and find a way to say them IC.


It just has to be during the conversation.


Keep in mind that you don't get to keep the hold after this interaction.


Does all that make sense?


Hooper


Just so I have a clear picture, after you tell Graves about the raiders, you going to randomly mill about the walls "watching", right?


Ryoma


That, my friend, is a manipulate.


Roll it.
 
"I guess two months is a rather long time away, huh?" Claire smiles serenely and takes Amber's arm, tucking it under her own and pulling the woman to come explore the marketplace with her. She glances at Amber out of the corner of her eye, "Now, I know you don't want to worry me, but I'm concerned about you. You sure nothing's wrong?"


I spend 1 hold to see how Amber is really feeling.
 
Graves


A pitying look on his face, Graves empties the other barrel into Roark's head.


He stands, staring out in the desert a moment, before noticing-


"Hooper." He says, by way of greeting.
 
Claire


Fear.


You can feel the tenseness of her body and how controlled her eye movements are.


You're good at these things, you spend a lot of time with people.


It's easy for you to spot emotion.


She is afraid.


And there's a sense of urgency to it.


She looks down at the ground, then up at you.


She smiles.


"I'm alright. It's been a rough couple of weeks. Scavenging in The Grey has been rougher and rougher. Less to find each day."


She shrugs.


"But other than that, alright."


Claire, what kind of relationship do you and Amber have?


Is it teacher/student?


Or is it ... more?


Hooper, Graves


Okay, Graves.


Hooper just said:


"People coming to try and kill us. Raiders mostly. I'll be around. You should be concerned."


What do you do?


Ryoma


She looks up at you, her eyes half open.


"Yes. I want it. How ... do I know ... you know about death and salvation? Then ... I'll give you more words for to trade for enlightenment."
 
Amber and I are more friends then anything. She was one of my first clients when I first came to Graves' hold and you could say she's been a pretty loyal customer. We've gotten to know each other pretty well, and we've been intimate on occasion by her request, but we're not lovers.


Claire gives the hand on her arm a little squeeze, turning her head to meet Amber's gaze, "Is there something bothering you besides the bad salvage? You seem kind of worried."


Spending 1 hold to ask 'how could I get Amber to tell me why she's so afraid?'
 
Ryoma pulls the sutra from the pocket of her robe and places it in the girl's hands. "Hold this. Feel it. This book... you cannot read it, I can tell. It was written by the ancients, in the measureless past. Can't you feel it?"
 
Red Bean


"What I have seen and done are surely different, Lumpy, that what you have done. The difference is I find a way above it, rather than through it. I tried to teach that to people. Few understand, but try. Some wish to understand but cannot. Some hope to understand but are unwilling." Self-righteous, yes she is. She found a way to overcome, and others could do the same if someone would just show them how.


"Who is Mill, and what does this person pay you to do?" She doesn't pay her followers, she just makes sure they all get what they need. In return, they seek direction from her, they judge her by the quality of life they live. Most realize they are better off following her than being on their own, but some do not.
 
Claire


It's actually rather simple, but not obvious.


You'll need to take her somewhere private.


Somewhere she knows no one can overhear your conversation.


Even then, she'll be reluctant to utter the words.


She smiles aagin.


"Oh. No. It's nothing. Just thinking too much. But enough about me."


She grabs your shoulders and turns you to look in your eyes.


"Tell me all about your travels. Tell me where you went and how you got there."


What do you do?


Ryoma


Satisfied, she grasps the book with the last of her body's strength.


"The Grey ..."


She struggles to speak.


"Tunnels ... underground ... sewers. Tell me ... enlightenment ..."


What do you do?


Red Bean


Lumpy gives you a hard look.


"Mill is the woman that pays me for information on you and your daily life. She pays me well. I can eat and get layed. I'm happy."


He keeps his hard stare as he speaks.


What do you do?
 
Claire smiles a little worriedly at her and places a light hand over one of the ones on her shoulders. With another gentle, reassuring pat she meets Amber's gaze. "Well, there's quite a bit of telling. Have you eaten yet? I haven't, and I'm starving. Why don't we grab some food and head to my room? It'll be more comfortable and quiet there," she laughs brightly, "Free of charge, of course. At least for lunch."
 
Ryoma leans over and whispers of enlightenment: of the hubris of men and gods. All doctrine returns to one truth: all that you are is an aggregation of happenstance, a twist of fate, and the little sliver of consciousness that remains when all those caprices retreat is all she need know. Let all else slough off: forget your sins and your failures, forget those who did good by you and those who did ill, forget good and evil: return to what you are, the nature of enlightenment.


Enlightenment is a process of letting go, not a quality you gain.


Ryoma cannot know if those who she preaches to as they sit on death's gate every find enlightenment. It could be every single one is lost to the bewilderment of reincarnation. But still, she attempts. She ever attempts, walking the dying assassin through the retreat of her senses, the calamity of the gods, the apparition of ten million fornicating beings. If, by luck, she takes one of the many outs offered in the process of dying, she is enlightened, so be it.


If not, then may she take favorable rebirth, and discover the dharma in the next life.


When the girl's no more, Ryoma rises, limping.


Time to do something about this leg.
 
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