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Eclipse Phase (Private)

Euphemia "Eppie" Cross​

"We called it 'soft drowning' in crews. The liquid is really thin, almost as thin, if not thinner, than oil, and really high in oxygen. Basically, you get submerged, and your body refuses on instinct to breathe until you have no choice but to inhale the liquid, and then you inhale and choke for a hot minute until it floods your respiratory system. Then, once you get back into air, you choke it all back up. The transition sucks ass, my friend. It's pretty cool, though. The suits that have this system are way lighter than scuba, since you don't have to carry oxygen tanks, and the filter system filters out the liquid with CO2."

Eppie pats RJ's hair as he melts into her, "Confy," Eppie agrees.
 
"No, no. It's a breathable liquid. They used to use it for recording stuff back before we could just give a person gills. I gotta friend who does XP shoots and she uses a pool full of it for certain ones bc she doesn't like the way gills feel," Abby responds looking dead serious before bursting into giggles again. "Motherfucking Aphrodite Nyx will do damn near anything but gills are her line in the sand, imagine that."
 
Euphemia “Eppie” Cross​

Eppie looks at Abby in confusion, “Yeah, you’re talking about perfluorocarbon, right? That’s what I’m talking about. On water exo-planets, gills aren’t always the way to go since it might not be H20, so instead of that or oxygen tanks, we use diving suits outfitted with perfluorocarbon. Helps with pressure if we’re diving deep.”
 
Rushing Jaws has been listening to this conversation in utter astonishment, mouth hanging slightly open as Abby and Eppie discuss another secret of the universe before him like it's nothing, shuffling over to look Eppie in her eyes and bonking her with his head to get her attention; "hold on. you mean. to fuckin tell me. they found a way. for sapes to breathe water? but like, not air water or water water, but fuckin...diet water?"

"Hold on," Veronica interjects, having heard something that strikes her as equally ridiculous and fascinating; "Abby - do you mean to say you're friends with Aphrodite Nyx?"
 
Euphemia "Eppie" Cross​

Eppie turns at RJ's prodding and leans in until she is forehead to forehead with him as he demands her single minded attention. She smiles brightly, deeply amuses at how completely blasted he is, "That's right. You could breathe water yourself, should you want to try it. We had blowhole apparatuses for our neo-cetacean crewmates on water worlds, so I know they're made."

Eppie slow blinks a few times as Veronica questions Abby beside her, as her brain supplies the connecting thought of who Aphrodite Nyx was, and then connects the thought again that Abby knew her. Eppie leans away from RJ, holding her arms out to keep him from falling into her lap, "Yeah, actually, let's double back on that. How the fuck do you know her?"
 
"Yes to all. I got confused and thought maybe there was a second liquid y'all used for your travels. I know about it because Aphrodite showed off a tank she was using for one of her spy flicks, explained she uses the stuff for basically any underwater scene she does," Abby shrugs as she replies. "But yeah, she's a friend. Talked me out of getting into the XP biz back in my party girl days. Said it was a bad idea to get into something like that just to piss off the fam."
 
Rushing Jaws only stares at Eppie with big eyes as the ramifications of diet water for neo-orcas sends his stoned mind on a journey to unimaginable places.

"While definitely not something to plunge into impulsively, XP is big business," Veronica points out; " I can't say I know the Porn Empress of Venus, but I do know quite a few people in the industry that do quite well for themselves. Your family wouldn't have approved?"
 
Euphemia "Eppie" Cross​

Eppie whistles, "Oof, yeah, that would've been a bad call. It's definitely a job that you should do if you have the knack for it and the drive to put the work in, but if it was out of spite, it would've burnt anyone out quick. I've done my fair share of it, and if you're not doing it for yourself, you'll hate it. Aphrodite is wise."

Shifting a little, Eppie pats Veronica's leg, "Most conservative or wealthy families aren't keen on their kids doing that sort of this. Sex work might be the oldest profession, but people still aren't great about being respectful."
 
Abby blinks for a moment. "Veronica are you telling me the only capitalist on this team doesn't recognize the name Abigail Hammond?"
 
Veronica winces; "I was trying to be polite, Abigail - I know who the Hammonds are, I'm just not overly familiar with them!"
 
Euphemia "Eppie" Cross
​
"The only Hammonds I know off the top of my head is the guy from Jurassic Park, to be fair. It happens."
 
Abby laughs and shakes her head. "Eppie, you're now one of my favorite people. Veronica, my family cared more about their image than they did having a kid. I was largely raised by my muse and I spent a year as an infomorph as a punishment once. To say they wouldn't have been pleased by thier daughter doing adult XP would be the understatement of the year."
 
Euphemia "Eppie" Cross​

"Jesus, RJ-" Eppie scrambles to catch him before he tumbles off the couch. Sure she's got him, she pulls him back into a laid down position on the couch, his head on her lap. "I'm very proud of you for understanding the reference, but you're going to concuss yourself if you try to move around that suddenly."

Looking up at Abby, Eppie finger guns at her, and then follows up with, "Hey, Abby, real quick - what the fuck is wrong with your parents?"
 
Euphemia "Eppie" Cross​

Eppie nods in understanding, completely serious, "Ah, of course. My mistake. I forgot hypercapitalists just love psychologically abusing their children."
 
"You got that right, the pieces a' shit!" Rushing Jaws emphatically declares to the safehouse ceiling; "grow ya in a tank, copywright yer genome, maek you n' yer siblings fight fer their profit, n cast ya aside after yer combat effectives gets shitcanned by fuckign TITANs..."

To hear the lurid details of Abigail's upbringing does not surprise Veronica; the Hammonds seem like the sort of old-money family that has to work very hard to preserve their prestigious image and attract like-minded buisness partners. Veronica keeps her opinions about the squad's commentary to herself, particularly when one of Abby's comments jogs something in her memory from days ago, aboard Pontes station-

-someone who looks to be in quite a hurry nearly shoulder checks her, Veronica having to step out of the way to avoid getting hit. Veronica can hear them muttering to themselves about their “fucking family,” and while she can’t make out what they’re saying specifically, they seem in an awful hurry to get to the spaceport. Pulling up her rep profile to ding her, Veronica stops when she recognizes the name Abigail Hammond, daughter of none other than Adam Hammond and an infosec prodigy in her own right.

Oh.

"Abigail? You were going somewhere up on Pontes in a hurry - you almost shoulder-checked me - did something happen between you and your family up there?"
 
Abby made an uncomfortable face, and gestured for Eppie to pass the bong back to her. "Kinda. They've been trying to keep tabs on me and I'm usually pretty good at dodging the folks they sic after me but I thought I saw one tailing me up on the station so I wanted to make sure I shook him. Didn't want family shit getting in the way of the mission, y'know?"
 
"Naturally," Veronica replies, thinking better of asking the follow-up question she has.

"Whats yer fuckin hoidy toidy-ass family want with you, anyways?" Rushing Jaws, much too stoned for tact, asks for her; "years of bein fuckin rich and distant and now you've gone your way they want you back? the fuck is that?"
 
Abby shakes her head and takes another hit. "Me bein' on my own makes 'em look bad. Worse than they did when I was just their spoiled party girl daughter. They don't care about me, just their image."
 
Euphemia "Eppie" Cross​

"It's mental illness, luv," Eppie says with a heavy British accent, holding her hands out and taking the bong from Abby and taking another hit, "See, it's all about control with people like that. Once you're making your own money and got your own place to live and don't need them, you get out of their control, and they hate it. Especially when it's rich people with a rep to protect and worry about."

Eppie reaches out, gently taking Abby's wrist in her hand, and makes intense eye contact, "I'll kill them, Abby. I'm a five foot tall killing machine."
 
Last edited:

But God, she loves Zora.

Jackie’s eyes flutter open, peering around the landscape of the room Zora created for their shopping trip, and notes it to be an accurate representation of their stock, if only stored in a different arrangement of storage. The context clues anyone keen enough to look are scrubbed, and it is as generic as it is effective; almost familiar, but locked in an uncanny valley in order to protect the actual location of the armoury. The air conditioner that usually rattles just loud enough to be a soft ambient noise overtop any other sound in the armoury has been silenced, and is replaced by the soft classic rock that Zora is playing. Jackie smiles, knowing that

Zora barely tolerates old school rock music, and is only playing it for Jackie’s benefit.

Zora herself is hunched over holographic designs for a weapon’s blueprint, baby-pink hair tied up high on the crown of her head - she must’ve finally caved and gotten a haircut, too, because the line of her bangs is short and crisp along the middle of her focus-creased forehead. Along the curve of her throat and up to her right eyebrow, a nanoplague scar has leathered her skin and left it a patchwork of exact squares, like pixels decorating up the length of her neck. Her black eyes peek over as Jackie stands, and the small woman dismisses the hologram and rises to greet her boss.

“Jack,” Zora greets, fidgeting with a spinner ring that makes what she is told to be a very satisfying clicking noise as it spins along it’s gears. Jackie approaches with a grin, and they kick the sides of their shoes together in the standard greeting between the two of them.

“Good to see you, Z,” Jackie replies, then turns to the team of the Concerned Citizens Brigade load into the Sim as Zora peers past her elbow towards them,

“Everyone, this is our gunsmith, designer, and armoury manager, Zora Jì. Zora, this is, in order… Actually, I realize I don’t really particularly know most of your names. Zora, you can call them whatever you want. That was a joke.”

“Call me what ya like, just don’t call me late for supper!” Rushing Jaws exclaims, loading in just in time to hear the tail end of that exchange. He glances around the space, a grin breaking out on his face as he catches sight of rack upon rack of weapon, along with the cute little sape working on one in the middle of it all.

“You can call me ‘V,’” Veronica says, taking in the space as well. “Do we get to choose any of the pieces, or have you prepared select gifts for us?”

Zora blinks at Rushing Jaws, then looks at Jackie and whispers, “Why would I call him for supper? I don’t know him.”

“It’s a joke. It means he doesn’t care what you call him, and the last part is an icebreaker for conversation,” Jackie replies.

“It’s not very funny.”

“Never said it was, sweetpea,” Jackie quips, then looks at Veronica, “Go crazy. If you can’t have it, Zora’ll let you know.”

“Oh don’t mind if I fuckin’ do!” Rushing Jaws says, rubbing his hands together and a tongue-lolling-out-of-his-mouth short of cartoonish expression of joy; Veronica, for her part, only smiles and asks: “What do you have for marksman rifles?”

“It would be quicker to narrow down if I know what you’re looking for,” Zora says as she steps around Jackie to get to Veronica, gesturing for her to follow along to a wall of rifles, “Do you have a manufacturer preference?”

Vidar loads in late and takes the armory in silently, sidling up to RJ. This would have been uneventful if he hadn’t loaded in with his birth morph specs at 6’3, dark curly hair and the same calico cat kigarumi he’d slunk to bed in irl 20 hours ago.

Jackie looks up as another loads in, and there’s a split second where she just squints, not recognizing the exceptionally tall man that just loaded into the Sim. Her mouth forms around the phrase ‘who the fuck are you’ when the cat onsie tips her off, and it clicks that this enormous, viking man with the cutest curly hair she’s ever seen is the fucking catgirl.

“Well, that’s not fucking good,” Jackie, a hopeless bisexual, mutters, laughing nervously as a very undeniable blush floods the back of her neck. She quickly retreats onto a couch near the corner, tucking herself into the mesh to ignore her mortification.

Vidar politely pretends he doesn’t see any of that and asks RJ; “Did I miss anything?”

“Not really, Zora here was just gonna show us some of the collection, dependin’ on what’s yer fancy.”

“I only need reliability, I’m not terribly picky past that point,” Veronica answers; “I’d love to take a look at your selection of DMRs.”

“While yer loadin’ those up, Zora - what’cha got for battlesuits? Daddy wants powered armor,” Rushing Jaws adds. Vidar gives him a pointed look that says never call yourself daddy again. Rushing Jaws catches the look, and laughs the laugh of an unrepentant scoundrel.

Eppie, having loaded in but paid no attention, says, “Oh, a self-diagnosed DILF.”

“Eppie bls,” Vidar mutters like this does him psychic damage.

“Don’t you have, like, a literal child, Vidar? You’re also a DILF. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news. You actually killed the Black Carnival leader with your current, overwhelming Scandanavian DILF energy.”

“I’m in earshot, Bubblegum,” Jackie grumbles, but doesn’t contest the point.

Ignoring them, Zora pulls a hologram out of the sim and types in some coding into the program. The sim conjures up a rifle that Zora pulls off a shelf in the wall, the rifle hilariously bulky in her tiny hands, and she holds it out to Veronica, “This is a Barsoomian Movement DMR rifle - it was in limited production until a few years ago. It’s extremely durable and designed for the Martian outback, light enough to carry around without becoming a burden but sturdy enough that you don’t need to worry about needing repairs. It’ll be good if you’re not picky, but it’s light because it’s stripped back to essentials - if you need it to anything but fire a stock bullet, you’ll need to add mods. One extra bonus though, since it’s designed by Martian outbackers, it’s fairly easy to mod - you don’t really need to be an expert to get hardware and software mods plugged into it, and while it’s designed for sand and cold, it’s easy to strip for cleaning when there is a rare build-up.”

She hands the rifle off to Veronica, “Feel the weight and get a feel. Let me know if you need something else.” She turns to RJ, leading him to the wall of battlesuits, “We have a few battlesuit options, but some are barred for use. These four -” She gestures to four on the right, “-are not for use outside of Black Carnival members, since they’re marked with insignia and you’re not made men of the group, the next three -” She gestures to three directly to the left of those, “- are Texas’, and so only she uses these. The rest are fair game for you to explore.”

“Don’t mind if I fuckin’ do,” Rushing Jaws says, stepping up to the first of the available battlesuits. The suit’s military-grade fullerene shell is painted in Martian camouflage, and opens like a flower for him to step into before closing and sealing with a hiss. Diagnostic readouts play out on the suit’s interior display screens and Rushing Jaws chuckles like a kid who’s been given a supercar for his sixteenth birthday as the suit conforms the interior to better fit his Fury’s profile. He doesn’t let himself forget it’s a simulation, but the suit feels responsive and fluid; it’s been a while since he’s had the pleasure, and beneath the helmet, his grin is orcanine.

Veronica, for her part, studies the Barsoomian-made marksman rifle; it feels good in her arms, and she can tell that ornamentation has been removed to make it much more discreet and much less, well, Barsoomian. It may be a far cry from the hypercorp-made weapons she typically acquires for herself, but if it can be depended on in the harsh conditions of the Martian outback and comes recommended by the Carnival’s own armorer, she’s willing to give it a try.

“Do you have a railgun equivalent for this?” Veronica asks Zora, pointedly ignoring the banter between her team and Jackie like a professional.

“It could certainly be altered to do the job,” Zora says, taking the gun from her hands and inspecting it, turning away to lay a rifle on a surface to check it without bearing it’s weight. The angle Zora stands at puts her scar close enough that Veronica can see exact detailing, and so Zora pulls her hair out of it’s ponytail and arranges her hair to cover the mark after a second, then strips the weapon in record time.

“See, here. If I lift out this entire piece and print out the attachment for a railgun, it’ll have the feature of the railgun that you’re looking for. It’ll keep the weight balance for the gun stable enough that you could keep the rest of it as is, where it’d just be a quick mode switch. I can have that done for you, if you’re willing to give me a bit of time to do it.”

“Certainly!” Veronica says. “The extra power will be worth it.”

“Isn’t swappin out the firearm components for railgun components basically rebuildin’ the whole rifle?” Rushing Jaws asks, having stepped up to the rest while encased within the battlesuit.

“For mass-produced, corp rifles? Yes. This rifle is made for Barsoomians, by Barsoomians, so it’s designed to be adaptable and easy to modify. What I plan to do is take out the support handle on the bottom and replace it with the mod for the railgun, and then latch the handle elsewhere so it’s still easy to hold and handle. It’d be a bigger undertaking if this were, say, a Direct Action gun.”

“Right but like, you still got the battery n’ the electromagnetic rails to consider. Swappin’ out all that hardware - can the frame handle that?”

Zora opens her mouth to answer, spinning her ring furiously, but instead Jackie pipes up, “You’re digging yourself a grave, pal,” Jackie warns from her couch, “If you get Zora started, you’re gonna be here for hours.”

“Thank you for your assistance, Zora,” Veronica says; “if it can be converted into a railgun, please do so.”

“S’pose I should pitch my questions ‘bout this suit,” Rushing Jaws says instead of carrying on gun nut talk; “I’d be curious to know if this suit could get some mods installed - lookin for chameleon coating n’ thermal dampening, stealth mods like that.”

“You’re welcome, V. I’ll get it done before you guys ship out,” Zora is a little deflated to miss out on talking gun builds with RJ, but perks up for questions about the battlesuit, “Oh, of course! Pretty standard for us, actually, given the line of the work the Carnival specializes in. I can definitely get that installed.”

“Tight! I wanna hear more about that build once everyone else is sorted - I think DILF two here needs assistance.”

Azathothwakes: [Sorry, Viddy - had to think on my fins fer what to call ya]
Heliotrope: [Its fine. I can’t belive veronica took V.]
Azathothwakes: [First bird to rise gets the worm!]
Heliotrope: [That’s why we used to call my spouse Five. Can’t have Two V’s. That’s nuts. That’s crazy talk.]
Azathothwakes: [well not with that attitude!]

“Ah, yeah,” He says, “I need an antimaterial rifle that can put a hole in the back of your own head on a small planet.”

“That is very specific,” Zora comments, “Is there any particulars that you would need beyond that?”

“I mean the usual bells and whistles might be nice but not picky.”

“As you wish,” Zora says, pulling up a holographic tablet with a wave of her hands, then holds her hands out as it materializes in her waiting hands. “Omnicor Model 9.6 - a Fall special that was drafted up from a pre-existing for use in the desert for pulling VIPs out of the Middle East. Optional laser sight and a scope that can calculate wind, planetary curve, and distance adjustments. If it’s going to be used exclusively for extremely long range sniping, then I can give you a gyromount that’s designed for this model.”

“That would be ideal, thank you,” He says glad he didn’t have to pretend to hard that he knew anything about snipping. He then peaked past her at Jackie still hiding in the back, “And now I’m going to say some words of power; Hey Jackie where do you keep the sords?”

Jackie looks up from ignoring the Hot Norwegian until he directly summons her, and God actually hates her. She scowls, “How dare you ask me such a sexy question. What next; are we going to duel? Fuck sakes.”

She swings her feet to the ground and gets up, pulling up the sim’s options and scrolling until she finds what she’s looking for. She adds a computer sound effect with her mouth for drama, and then activates a button that pops open the wall behind the pistols with a hydraulic hiss. She pulls the wall out and to the side, exposing shelving where several dozen swords of various origin, design, and size, hang. She gestures dramatically, “Take your pick.”

He puts his hands on his hips and looks them over. This was not an easy decisions. The smart sword could be whatever he wanted to be; his war knife, a machete, a good utility katana- but the up time on the smart sword materializing would get him killed in the zone. Also he was currently much smaller than he wanted to be so at first he was looking at pieces much too large for his current morph.

“Jackie.” He says seriously after a moment, “These are all movie replicas.”

“And what about it?”

“Nothing. Not a damn thing,” He says then points at the replica of cyberpunk 2077’s 2072 retro remake and says, “But I could see myself getting killed using that.”

Jackie pulls it off the wall, stepping back from Vidar and testing it’s weight and feel in her hand, spinning it by the handle a few cycles, “I’m pretty particular to jian swords over katanas, but this isn’t bad. What’s your poison, if not swords wielded by the immortal Keanu Reeves?”

“An NKF war knife- a good old Kriegsmesser, when I can,” He says, “I’ve got a smart sword right now but it takes a million years to build itself.”

Jackie nods, putting the sword back in it’s place, “The concept for a smart sword is really good, but it’s in that awkward stage of development where it’s not absolute garbage, but it’s not actually useful in a fight. Like, a sword that changes shape is only gonna be useful to a person that is fighting with a sword if it’s like that-” Jackie snaps for emphasis, “ - y’know? I went on a few ops with one, and it was cool, but I’ll take a monofilament over it any day. It’s cool as a conversation piece or a collectible, but it’s not worth bringing to a fight.”

jukeboxmaiden {PM to Azazthothwakes}: are they flirting, i cant tell
Azathothwakes: [im not an expert on sword goblin culture but i think so, yeah.]
jukeboxmaiden: [fascinating. i should take notes. make it science.]

“I mean its nice being able to keep it in my pocket, but yuh. The little Ai- he’s a friend though I might jail break him. I don’t know yet. But I can swing just about anything, Like pop me in a pirate larp, I’m good to go.”

“Well, yeah, I can imagine. You’re built like a fucking mountain,” She says, pointedly not looking at Vidar, but then grins, “If you wanted them jailbroken, I can ask Zora to do that. You’d just owe me a date.”

jukeboxmaiden {to TacNet}: [oh my fucking GOD they ARE flirting]
jukeboxmaiden: wait wrong house
jukeboxmaiden {to Azathothwakes}: THEY ARE FLIRTING
Azathothwakes: [AYYYYYYYYYYYYYY DOCUMENT THIS FOR SCIENCE N SHIT]

“I might have stared at a wall long enough to fake my way through a date,” He says.

“That so?” Jackie muses, turning to actually look at Vidar, “I got big plans. And by that, I mean I still need to see you in action. This-” She taps the faint line of a scar along her cheek from Vidar’s attack a few days earlier with a crooked smile, “- does not count.”

“You know, that’s what I tried to say last time a small girl nailed me in the face too,” He said in a friendly tone.

“Hmm, is he speaking literally, or is that a double entendre?” Jackie waggles her eyebrows suggestively.

Vidar stopped short. He didn’t realize nailed could be a sexual slang in english- he bit back the urge to try to re-explain what he means so he shrugged and looked sheepish because now it WAS an entender.

Seeing a Norwegian man twice her size looking sheepish was quite a sight, and Jackie, against better judgment, bumps him gently with her hip, “Just teasing, Oslo.”

He chuckles a little and tries to play it off, “The joke was supposed to be a I let a fifteen year old murder me once. Never lived it down. I should probably stop bringing it up. Then no one would know,” He says with a level awkwardness that makes him extremely glad he is already dead.

Jackie laughs without meaning to, stifling it behind her hand, though her smile is still visible, “That’s not that bad. People that tease you about it haven’t spoken to enough teenagers. They are compact vessels of rage without an outlet. And I’ve heard worse murder stories. Actually, had an agent get merced by a five-to-seven year old girl in Valles-New Shanghai. Not sure how that went down, but it gets brought up a lot,” Jackie chuckles to herself, “Children are monsters.”

“And you're still employing them?” He says with incredulous air.

“I think he is or was technically Night Cartel, so he’s not on my payroll. I honestly don’t know what happened to them, but I do know he got stabbed to death by a literal child.”

“Wilde,” He says, “I can’t say I have ever actually had that happen to any of my people. Put that on the bingo list.”

Heliotrope: [Hey eppie. You wanna die in a video game?]
jukeboxmaiden: [is that a threat. what the fuck does that mean]
Heliotrope: [y-yes?]
Heliortrop: [Quote|| jukeboxmaiden[oh my fucking GOD they ARE flirting]]
Heliotrope: [ are we not in a video game right now??? ]
jukeboxmaiden: [you can stab me but im almost positive that @azathothwakes would murder you back]
jukeboxmaiden: [also i’d still be right lmao #getrekt]
Azathothwakes: [hey now play nice kids]
Azathothwakes: [dont make me turn this simulation around]
jukeboxmaiden: [yes daddy 😩]
Heliotrope: [......]
jukeboxmaiden: [i didnt kink shame you for immediately flirting with a woman that arranged an army to kill us, let rj indulge a daddy kink u monster]
Heliotrope: [You age me.]
jukeboxmaiden: [hear that? im daddy-ifying viddy]

Jackie shrugs, her gaze switching back to the swords. Taking a deactivated plasma sword by either side of the flat of the blade with two fingers, she brings it down by dropping it and catching it by the hilt before it hits the ground. She raises an eyebrow to Vidar, “Thoughts on plasma swords? It’s a hot topic and I’d like to hear your opinion on it.”

“Mixed. Fucking, shitty not-light sabers that can’t parry, but on the other hand, plasma Never tired one, don’t think I want this op to be the tries new things expedition.”

“Wasn’t thinking for an op, but if you ever want to give it a go, we have a stock of plasma swords and a gym to practice using them. Personally, you can’t beat the lightsaber feeling you get while wielding them, and they’re bar none for one-shotting a bitch, except maybe a monofilament.

“Oh. Yea. I’m a basic monofilament bitch,” He admits. He gets the feelign that Jakcie assumes he’s on mars. That he’ll be around. That there is some sort of after the op to look forward to and its just not a wave length he get behind.

“It’s a good strong blade without a lot of drawbacks. Plasma swords are fun, but loud. Monofilaments are the answer to that problem.”

“Honestly once you cut a car in half there’s no going back- I mean they make the cars too good for that any more- but- you know.”

Jackie’s eyebrows shoot into her hairline, then furrow deeply in disbelief, “You crazy motherfucker, you did not.”

“You could get a lot done with a bike and a sord in 60s,” he says with a shrug.

Heliotrope: [I’m trying to be a person here and this is what you do to me?]
Azathothwakes: [yer knockin it outta the park, dude!!]
Azathothwakes: [if anything we’re rootin for ya]
Mekhajakumaar: [Chiming in to say this is quality entertainment!]


“I think it’s very rude of you to show me up in coolness in my own sim,” Jackie says without bite, then shakes her head to herself, “And I thought hanging off the walls like Doc Ock was peak. Damn. That’s fucking dope. ”

“Was a long time anyway,” He says because between the the peanut gallery and realizing he was bragging he’s kinda lost his nerve.

“You kill the fuck out of a bunch of Valentina’s men with knives and shit. And my men, actually. You still got it. And being able to say you ever sliced a car in half with a sword is so fucking cool.”

He trips over his mouth like a damn fool. Jackie makes him feel nineteen and its awful. “I-iuhn- Thank you.”

He’s shy, and it’s very precious, but Jackie keeps intimidating him enough to stun him and she just can’t seem to stop talking. It walks a line between Confidant Adult Conversation and babbling, hopelessly grasping at imaginary conversation straws. And so she loops back, and says, “I realize now that my Doc Ock comment was extremely vague.”

She unzips her jacket and shrugs off the hoodie underneath to strip herself to the tank top she has underneath. She steps back from Vidar and turns as she pulls her hair back, and visible on her exposed upper back are two circular, closed ports embedded in her back, which hiss open. From the ports sprout two long, tentacle-like limbs topped with snake-like heads outfitted with razor sharp teeth.

“Holly shit, you’re for real,” He says.

“Absolutely for real. Spoke to a body modder with the vision, and he did it, the madman,” The limbs reach up, the two heads taking a bite out of the ceiling and pulling Jackie up off her feet, putting her at eye-level with Vidar, “I don’t joke about replicating Spider-Man villains.”

Vidar’s human brain said; if cute goblin spider man villain levitates at eye level then cup face kiss.

And the other wolf inside his brain said: fuck I just lost every instance of candy crush wtf

Followed by the third wolf that said: We are not at that point yet and I am not smooth enough for that.

“Fucking legit,” He manages to say.

jukeboxmaiden: [oh my god theyre basically having sex]
Azathothwakes: [👀👀👀🍿🍿🍿]
Mekhajakumaar: [👀👀👀🍹🍹🍹]

Penny: [He boss.]
Mmmmmmhm?
Penny: [Are you gonna kiss this lady or just stare at her?]

“Fuck it,” He says quietly and then attempts to smooch the boss of the black carnival cause she’s just right there and conversation was excruciating for him.

On instinct, Jackie closes the gap that Vidar leaves her to step back and kisses the tall, painfully pretty and hopelessly shy Norwegian.

And then, when she separates herself from him and looks at him, she promptly freezes. She blinks at him, once, twice, three times. It does not dawn on her for a long moment that not only did she kiss him, but he kissed her first. Her arms drop her from the ceiling, and though she lands on her feet without stumbling, she’s only reminded of how tall and broad and completely her type he is, and she flushes scarlet chin to hairline.

“Oh my God,” Zora says, eyebrows disappearing behind her bangs.

“Oh my God,” Deep Blue, who has been there the whole time politely perusing the weaponry available, deadpans, in complete disbelief that this is the environment that sapes have chosen to kiss.

“Oh my GOD,” Eppie hollers.

Vidar blips out of the sim instantly.

Jackie looks around to the crew, then after a minute of standing there like an idiot, gives a peace sign because she has no other knowledge in her brain over how the fuck she should react, and promptly disconnects from the server.

jukeboxmaiden {PM to Heliotrope}: [VIDAR YOU WHORE IM GOING TO L O S E MY MIND]
Heliotrope: [ YOU MADE THAT FIVE TIMES MORE EXCRUCIATING THAN IT HAD TO BE]
jukeboxmaiden: [IM BRIGHT PINK AND A LESBIAN, WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME???????]
jukeboxmaiden: [WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?????????? SIT THERE AND SAY NOTHING WHILE YOU SEDUCED A FUCKING MOB BOSS????????!?!??]
Heliotrope: [As a part time lesiban a little FUCKING MORAL SUPORT WOULD HAVE BEEN GREAT]
jukeboxmaiden: [YOU MADE INTENSE SUSTAINED EYECONTACT WHICH IS BASICALLY FUCKING FOR LESBIANS, I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOOD!!!!]
Heliotrope: [I thought you were fuckign cyber bullying us for looking at swords ladjghlakdjghsdghweihfalgfwaleighwhrym]
jukeboxmaiden: [aflghksdkfvhglsdfjskbsl]
jukeboxmaiden: [this is why we leave the moral support to rj, this is a mess]
jukeboxmaiden: [you can cockblock me next time i try to kiss someone if that will spark joy]
Heliotrope: [not really no. listen socializing is extremely hard for me????!?! I can only handle like two feelings at a time.]
jukeboxmaiden: [if it make you feel better, she look left immediately after you. i dont think she’s any better - i think she just hides it slightly better]
Heliotrope: [okay but also; I AM A HUNDRED YEARS OLD. Why do I feel nineteen. This is dumb. We don’t have time for this.I didn’t really even have the emotional energy to do THAT.]
Heliotrope: [I can only have a personality for like four hour bursts? We’re going into the zone. Oh that was stupid. I just wanted a sord.]
jukeboxmaiden: [i wish i had these answers for you. rj kissed my forehead a few days ago and im still thinking about it, despite the fact ive let half the galaxy inside me. brains and feelings are mysterious.]
jukeboxmaiden: [i am thrilled at the prospect of witnessing this live drama in the TQZ]
Heliotrope: [Wat cud go rong]
jukeboxmaiden: [haha what if 👀❓🤭 you were a mob boss 💅👺🗡🔫 and i was a norse sword goblin 👌🗡🗡🇳🇴 and we kissed 🥰🥴😘😘 in the TQZ 🤖🙀🙀😳,,,,,,,,, haha just kidding 😂😂 ,,,, unless 👀🧐🧐🧐🧐]

“Lord of hosts…” Veronica says, in a tone of voice like she can’t fully believe what she’s seeing, eyebrows reaching for her hairline.

“Zǔxiān yǐwài…” Rushing Jaws echoes, his voice carrying his bewilderment through the battlesuit’s helmet.

“That… that took a turn.”

“Wait a goddamned minute,” Rushing Jaws says; “What does our CQC guy need an anti-material rifle for?”

“That’s none of my business. Maybe he’s branching out,” Zora quips, tossing the gun into the air and letting it dissolve into pixels.

Abigail manifests roughly two hours late holding a chain coffee cup and dressed like her true party girl self for once. She takes a quick look around and is visibly confused. "Hey, what happened and where's Jackie and the cat boy?"

Eppie is still frozen, her expression an absolutely gobsmacked mix of open-mouthed shock and lesbian delight, and she looks at Abby, having never felt so bad for someone for missing out, “Abby. Babe. I can’t do this, I am in shock, my wig is gone - everything - RJ, fill her in on this. I don’t have the words.”

“So, I’m not fully sure what I saw just now, so I’m gonna tell it as I saw it. Viddy n’ Jackie were talking about swords, then Viddy said somethin’ that impressed Jackie, then Jackie shows off her tentacle cyberlimbs, pulls herself up to eye level with Viddy, and then the spark musta caught because they kissed.”

“They seemed as surprised as we are,” Veronica adds.

“Yeah they bugged out like, right after. You missed ‘em by seconds.”

"Wait, I'm sorry. Are you telling me my new dad has got game???" Abby looks genuinely shook at this revelation.

Azathothwakes {PM to Heliotrope}: [yo, im sorry if we went overboard with the commentary, you just played it super cool back there until the, uh, yeah. Pretty sure the servitor had TGS on offer if you need to get just entirely too stoned.]

Azathothwakes {PM to jukeboxmaiden}: [so i been knew im the dumbest boy in second grade but like,,, were they vibin like that this whole time or???]
jukeboxmaiden: [the entire showdown when she cornered vidar was half fear and half sexual tension. they BEEN vibin]
Azathothwakes: [WORD]
Azathothwakes: [god damn how did i miss that]
jukeboxmaiden: [youre a gun goblin, theyre sword goblins. their sexual tension also reads as intense rivalry]
Azathothwakes: [fuck am i glad to have you around to explain all this]
Azathothwakes: [tryin to read sapes feels like a test i forgot was happening until the day of]
jukeboxmaiden: [<3 sapes like to hide feelings and beat around the bush, even seasoned sapes don’t pick up every hint]

Heliotrope{pm to azathothwakes}: Two steps ahead, looking at all y’alls sweet little faces using the VR while rolling joints like a squirrel.
Azathothwakes: [ehehe atta boy]
Azathothwakes: [oh hey also before it slips my mind, what’s a sword swingin arknight like you need with an anti-material rifle?]
Heliotrope: [Oh god, I really am a fuckign arknight. Jesus.]
Heliotrope: [Re: riffle; I know a guy. Unless you got objections?]
Azathothwakes: [👀👀👀🥃🥃🥃 do tell!]
Azathothwakes: [only if he’s objectionable!]
Heliotrope: [I mean she’s my scum mother so like, I hope not.]
Azathothwakes: [oh FUCK yeah!!]
Azathothwakes: [can’t wait to meet, she sounds like a party!!]
Heliotrope: [Ye. I feel like we need a braincell and she’s the only one I know. She shoots real good and has probably done crazier shit than ‘help me finish my boyfriends job in the zone’]
Azathothwakes: [sure wouldn’t hurt to have another braincell to rub together]
Azathothwakes: [goes double if she’s a sharpshooter, AMR’ll be good for droppin headhunters and the like]
Azathothwakes: [sure would like to know what’s crazier than ‘finishing my boyfriend’s job in the Zone’ though! 😂😂😂]
Heliotrope: [listen I’d rather do this than the corpo wetwork shes does as a “hobby”]
Heliotrope: [going into the zone is just fuck around and find out incarnate. Hits take work.]
Azathothwakes: [fucking outstanding.]
Azathothwakes: [are all your friends that fuckin cool or??]
Heliotrope: [No the other two suck I promise.]
Azathothwakes: [😂😂😂😂😂 copy that.]
Azathothwakes: [god speakin of knowing associates, remind me to tell you about my hidden concern assassin ex one of tese days]
Heliotrope: [👀 👀 🍿]
Heliotrope:[ wow my muse really just let that go through in text form. fuck.]
Azathothwakes: [🤣🤣🤣]
Azathothwakes: [okay so it may surprise you to know that i was not always the paragon of virtue that i am today]
Azathothwakes: [and that i took jobs for the H-C for the first few years livin on Ceres]
Azathothwakes: [i soemhow impressed a ranking neo-octopus assassin into thinking that i was boyfriend material and we dated for a while. wasnt the best thing for either of us but we vibed and also lean mercurial]
Azathothwakes: [once i started givin a shit about things i started havin a conscious about what the H-C does, and that drove a wedge between us]
Azathothwakes: [we parted on amiable terms tho. still talk too, even if we avoid work talk.]
Azathothwakes: [shes fuckin scary and im glad i didnt piss her off any during the split]
Heliotrope: [Buddy theres only two ways to break up with a hitman and thats dead or amiable. Good job. Also what’s the hiding concert I’m 100, from locus and high.]
Azathothwakes: [criminal gang based out of ceres, owned and operated by neo-octopi. ceres has pretentions of being an an-cap hab and that’s almost true except where the Hidden Concern extorts, embezzles, and muscles its way into dominance over essential infrastructure n’ water trade. casually sadistic, brutally cunning, neo-octopi mafa with vision.]
Azathothwakes: [they make the night cartel look like a bible study group]
Azathothwakes: [sorry, the H-C is just bad fuckinn news]
Heliotrope: [Noted. Thank god u r with the concerned citizens brigade now.]
Azathothwakes: [no fuckin joke.]
Azathothwakes: [the dark timeline is where i joined the H-C]
Azathothwakes: [also the concerned citizen’s brigade is keeping an eye on the H-C too, if that helps contextualize how bad news rhese octopi are]
Heliotrope: [Yoinks scoob]


“We’re as surprised as you are,” Veronica answers for them all, her tone still mildly incredulous.

”Yeah, no, i’m gonna be munchin’ on that one for a long while,” Rushing Jaws adds. “You, ah, should introduce yourself to Zora, she’s the B-C armorer and she’ll get ya kitted out.”

"Noted, thanks!" Abby replies cheerfully before effectively bouncing over to Zora. "Hiya! I'm this gang's manic pixie dream hacker and I love the work you did on this simulspace! I'm told you're the lady to see about guns n stuff, yeah?"

Zora stares at Abby with a distinct blankness of someone having an internal dialogue with their muse, then she blinks away the fog and says, albeit sheepishly,

“Thank you. I would be the person for that, yes. Did you have a preferred weapon and brand?”

"I need a rail sniper. I don't have a brand preference, though. Do you have recommendations?" Abby replies, looking genuinely interested.

Zora purses her lips, then spawns a sniper into her hands, grabbing it out of the air, “This is a Direct Action LDMR-1009. If you’ve got the aim for it, this will get you up to twenty three hundred meters of range, and with the extended electromagnetic rails and a gyroscope, you’ll get over three kilometers before the aim gets shaky. The only issue with this weapon is that it’s meant for sniping over huge long-distances, so it is loud beyond belief. Being a railgun, you can’t really silence it, but I’ll attach a flash suppressor so at least enemies won’t see the flash.”

"That's perfect, thanks. Frankly the further I am way from the things that want me dead, the better," Abby said with a grin as she looked the rifle over. "Is the weight of it in the sim the same as out there? I'd like to check it out if so."

“I calibrated the sim to simulate exact weights. Try it out.”

Abby nods in thanks and picks up the rifle, testing its weight. She nods, satisfied, and sets it down. “Rad. Shouldn’t be too bad to carry around out there. We should get together and talk simulspace crafting sometime!”

Zora grins, a glint in her eye, “Yes, absolutely! I have a lot of different simulspace blueprints that I use for different things, so we could meet in one of my WIP spaces so we can tinker with it while we talk. I’d love to see some of your techniques for it.”

Meanwhile, in the back, there could be heard the squeaking of virtual shopping cart wheels and the occasional thump of large boxes. Eventually, this revealed itself to be a generic avatar of a man in a racing suit. There was barely any detail, save for the classic Shui Fong colors and emblems, and even the helmet was nondescript, seemingly hiding nothing. It was. “Dai Ruogang” didn’t have a rendered face under the low polygon exterior, nor any features identifying him as anything but one of the Fong’s racers. The synthetic voice that came from that helmet wasn’t any more distinct, either.

“Ring me up. Heavy load.” He said, patting the pallet cart loaded with multiple boxes of missiles, topped with a very, very nice launcher that was compatible with all of them…

“Heads up, you’re prolly gonna be the one using this stuff, Ocean Man.”

“Who, m-” Rushing Jaws starts to say, before getting a look at the comically over-loaded shopping cart straight out of a twencen comedy routine; “Hohohohoho-lee-shit - this is for me?? This is the nicest fuckin thing you’ve ever done for me!”

“More for my own sense of security. Classic Zoner wisdom says Rob shouldn’t get much closer than your longest gun’s max range. And this can reduce Rob to rubble at 10 Kilometers or so. This plus some binocs and we’ve got a pretty relaxing drive out.” Said the faceless approximation of the fastest criminal they knew, seemingly proposing that they… Drive SLOWLY.

“I’m sure Rob will happily oblige us blastin at ‘em from ten klicks away and not get within our range,” Rushing Jaws quips; “hey. Wait a fuckin’ second. Our driver aint gonna let up on the throttle until we get where we need to go - who are you and what have you done with him??”

“Oh I’m sorry, I’m the little nugget of trauma in the back of his brain that remembers what an open CQC fight with Rob looks like. The real Ruogang will be gritting his teeth in the back seat with his eyes closed. Joking aside, I’m fucking terrified to get in the zone and fuck you for assuming otherwise.” He said, a small purple shoulder version of himself saying “No need to be rude, dude.” Before he replied “I was using the joking tone, I was… Oh. Right. Dead tone voice. Just… I didn’t really mean the fuck you? But also fuck this isn’t a good time for me.”

Rushing Jaws has to shake the momentary shock of Mach being more emotionally honest than he can recall ever seeing the speed demon at any point on this mission before he responds; “Well shit, fuckin’ fair enough dude. Sorry for strikin’ a nerve there, I’ll make sure these missiles get where they need to go for ya.”

“No harm no foul. Fuckin synthmorph can’t emote for shit. Nice if you don’t want ‘em to see you sweat. Otherwise it’s crap.” He said, shrugging as he presented everything to the digital sommelier of this fine armament cellar…

“What the fuck is a Rob?” Eppie asks, completely confused.

Zora takes in Mach’s choices, one eyebrow raised at his choice to throw weapons into a shopping cart with abandon. She grabs the serial numbers for the weapons chosen by the newcomer to fab them, then advises, “I would advise you not to throw the missiles for your MPMLMS around with that much abandon once we’ve entered real life.”

“Oh, the MLM machine, man loving man machine,” Eppie comments.

“It’s the nickname for them that created the TQZ,” Abby remarks, having broken away from Zora to let her work with Mach and was currently investigating how well the corners of the room hold up without becoming polygons or weird fractals.

“Feel like I heard that name most from folks in the North American theater,” Rushing Jaws chimes in as he takes stock of all the missiles; “It'd be endearing if it weren’t for who it was referring to.”

“Ah,” Eppie says, flopped onto the couch with no intention of getting up to choose something, “Americans are back at it again,” Leaning over the back of the couch to look at RJ, Eppie adds, “Also, I’ll be real, I have no idea what to pick for myself. RJ, any suggestions or - actually, just choose something for me. I trust you.”

“I know we talked about skillware for ya at some point, I guess the question to consider is whether ya need a bigger gun or the skillsoft to use the SMG ya got right now.”

“We do have quite a bit of firepower as it is, plenty of it for long-range engagement,” Veronica points out.

“True. I’m also told that she put down a synth with an SMG so maybe if the carnies got skillsoft for kinetic weaponry, that could be a good shout.”

“I have leftover homing reactive rounds she could use!” Veronica adds.

“Oh, fuckin nice! Hey baby doe, you were thinking of getting skillware to run that krav maga skillsoft, right?”

“Baby doe?” Eppie asks with a wry smile, her face ever so slightly pinker at the apples of her cheeks, “And, yes, I know it’s very sexy, but I did destroy a synth despite not being statted for combat. And now, I will have even more gun stonks.”

“Uh, fuckin- yeAh, that’s what I was thinkin,” Rushing Jaws says, not realizing what he’d called her until she echoed it back to him and feeling an unmistakable flush on the back of his own neck. Turning to face Zora, he says, “I know it aint yer typical kit, but would you happen to have skillsoft for kinetic weapon usage?”

“Of course - why wait around for people to master a skill when we can just implant it in their heads?”

“Fuck yeah! Sounds like that’s what she’ll be havin.’”

“I can do that, then. Do you have a skillsoft augmentation?” Zora asks Eppie.

Eppie blinks at Zora blankly.

“I’ll tank that as a ‘no’. I’ll book an appointment for you in one of the tanks I’ve got in the city, so we can arrange a safe passage for you, or you may arrange a ride yourself. Your choice.”

“I’ll find my way to the city if you can send me the details, please and thank you.”

Zora nods, then looks to Deep Blue, “You’re up last, friend. Any choices?”

Deep Blue spends a final moment considering the holos of weapons hanging on the wall, then turns about face with military crispness, “I’ll stop pretending I don’t know what I want. Flak Cannon.”

Zora opens up a notes panel and types in a message, then looks at Deep Blue, “An apt choice. Do you have any mods that you’d like added?”
Deep Blue considers that for a long second, but then he shrugs, “You seem to be on my wavelength. Surprise me.”

Zora smiles broadly, typing in a message into her app, “Noted.”
 
Just Gals Being Pals
(A Collab Post with ValtheStarGal ValtheStarGal )​

“Pull!” Rushing Jaws calls out; Eppie obligingly pulls the ripchord, and with a thwunk, a clay target is sent flying into the Martian sky. He tracks the target with the railgun’s iron sights, smartlink disabled, tracking, tracking, tracking-

DAT, goes the railgun: the bullet strikes home, shattering the clay target nearly a hundred meters away, at the height of its arc. He holds the rifle there for just a half-second longer for the follow-through, then takes his finger off the trigger and lets out a booming laugh.

“Looks like our tie remains in place,” Rushing Jaws says, barrel pointed safely toward the heavens as he moves to trade spaces with Eppie, still overjoyed that they were able to pull this little shooting competition off amid all the mission preparation still yet to do. He hands off the automatic rifle to her, its barrel briefly catching the low-hanging sun - a much fainter thing here on Mars than the term would suggest, but still not for nothing - and then goes to take his place at the launcher, giving Eppie a moment to step up to the ‘plate.’

“Should be about six rounds left in that clip,” Rushing Jaws says. “Puts us at what - nine to nine so far?”

“Something like that,” Eppie comments, bringing her gun up against her shoulder, “Which is to say - I have successfully downloaded a full military career into my brain. Get fucked. Pull, please?”

“Musta downloaded a fuckin attitude too,” Rushing Jaws quips, pulling the ripchord on the launcher.

“What can I say? War changes you,” Eppie lines up the shot, which comes easier and with a steadiness that feels somatically familiar, but cognitively alien, and shatters the clay into a rain of shrapnel and dust.

“You fuckin’ smartass,” Rushing Jaws says with a warm laugh.

“I think that’s something that gets added when you’re an experienced operative. Y’know how it is…”

“I dunno what covert operator ‘recorded his shooting skills that you’re borrowing from, but that is almost certainly not how that is. Most COs frown on insubordination and yell at ya for being a smartass. It’s one thing goofin with the squad, ‘quite another to carry that kind of swangin’ dick attitude where yer superiors can see it.”

“Well, can’t say that I ever really gave a damn about any of that - got me beatings a few times in school from the COs of the station, but c’est la vie d’une salope, n’est-ce pas?”

French: But that’s the life of a {female} bastard, am I right?”


“Yeah that’ll do i- wait, hang on, you had a military education? Yer like, the least military person I know- wait, actually, between the PT and the shootin’ skills you had before downloading the four hundred-level courses into yer brain and the disrespect for authority, no, actually, yeah, that makes perfect sense.”

Eppie makes a mocking bow, “I didn’t just have a military education, but I also grew up in a military space station, in a military family - in fact, my dad was a general and was the CO of the station."

“Were the beatings more or less severe ‘cause a’ that?”

“Depended on the officer, honestly. Goncharov always let me get off easy, but if I didn’t toe the line in front of, say, Chernyshevsky? Then my ass was grass. And you’re using this to stall because you know I’m gonna win. You’re up.’

“Listen, I gotta get that juicy backstory where I can catch it,” Rushing Jaws says with a mischievous chuckle, before taking a moment to sight in; “Pull!”

Eppie obliges, and the target soars: Rushing Jaws aims, fires, and scores.

“I dunno, Cross - it’s comin down to the wire and we’re still neck and neck.”

“Don’t get cocky. Modern technology could still show you up!”

“Oh I ain’t gettin cocky - I know full well you borrowed some Sapienti black magic to keep up with me,” Rushing Jaws says, moving to trade spots with Eppie once again. “I just know I’ve been shootin’ since I was old enough to hold a rifle in my tiny cybernetic hands.”

“Well, now that I have the power of God and anime on my side, I have been using a gun for longer than I’ve been alive. Get ready to lose, my friend. Pull!”

“We’ve created a monster-” thwunk.

Eppie crows in victory as she makes her shot, spilling clay over the Martian outback, holding a fist and her gun over her head. “I can feel it. In my bones. Victory is near.”

“Aw shucks baby doe, I appreciate you being such a sporting and supportive opponent!” Rushing Jaws calls out, tracing the same path back to the shooting stand and taking the railgun up; “Pull!”

“Oh, like I’m supposed to believe an orca isn’t competitive as fuck-” thwunk.

Another shot, another hit; Rushing Jaws hoots as the clay shards join Eppie’s in scattering across the rust-covered landscape. “Oh, victory’s near alright - for me!"

“Mmm, and there it is. My point is proven. Shake my fucking head,” Eppie bumps RJ out of the way with her hip, taking aim to approximately where the clay target will be thrown, and asks, “Pull!”

As Eppie calls, Rushing Jaws responds with the thwunk of the launcher.

It’s closer than she’d like, but the clay breaks as her shot clips the outer rim, breaking the target apart and sending it spiralling away in different directions. Eppie steps to the launcher, quipping as she waits for RJ’s signal, “I have downloaded every Call of Duty game into my brain. You cannot defeat me.”

“Oh, that last one was real close,” Rushing Jaws points out. “I packed a pistol along with twelve rounds for the tiebreaker, but I’m startin to worry about your aim gettin a little fuzzy there.”

“Laugh it up now, baby boy; when I win, you’ll be on the hook for a bottle of rosé~”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time!” Rushing Jaws calls out, just as a thought strikes him. He ponders it for a few seconds, making it appear as if he’s checking the sights on the railgun, and then makes his decision; “Pull!”

She pulls the ripchord of the launcher with excessive flair.

Rushing Jaws tracks his target with all the skill of the last fourteen. He has the instant where the shot is lined up. He waits until a fraction of a second too late to strike the target, and then fires. The clay pigeon spins on, intact, landing in the fines with a dull thud.

“OHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!!” Eppie lays down her weapon, then puts her hands in the air with closed eyes as she gestures to the Martian outback, “My name is Eppie Cross, and this is my favourite place on the Citadel.”

Rushing Jaws makes a show of a conceding shrug, removing the now empty clip of the railgun and stowing it in his back pocket before powering down the weapon.

“Aw, don’t be down. It’s okay, RJ. You can admit that this-” She gestures to herself with a shit-eating grin, “- is what peak performance looks like. It’s okay. No one will disagree. I am a fucking killing machine.”

“Oh, that was never in doubt,” Rushing Jaws says, making his way to the backpack they had packed out to this quiet stretch of outback, a neo-orca grin on his face to see how happy Eppie is to have beaten him at what was supposed to be his own game. “Yer the killing machine that took out a combat synth and then like, half a dozen West Elysium gangers, after all, and now you got the aim of Rashida Devan with that skillsoft a’ yers.”

“Who?” Eppie asks with a blank expression.

“One of Jackie’s goons, real good with a sniper rifle. We chatted some on the drive down here. Her whole thing is headshots from kilometers off."

Eppie shivers, “D’Jesus. That’s so many.”

“No joke,” Rushing Jaws agrees; “Now, about that rosé-”

He crouches at the backpack, setting the railgun down where it won’t get fines in the electronics, and reaches inside to get at a temperature-controlled compartment. With the press of a button, a quick hiss, and a deft hand, he grabs the bottle of Montpelier-Zhu rosé that Veronica suggested he pack along when asked about wine recommendations, and draws it out to offer it to the victor of their game.

“Packed it along in the unlikely event you pulled off a win,” Rushing Jaws says, his tone happy and full of warmth to see Eppie so ebullient. “Seems I was wise to!”

“Ah, he takes his loss with dignity!” Eppie says, happily taking the rosé off his hands. She pops the top off, taking a drink of her victory beverage straight from the bottle with a delighted grin. She relishes the taste for a moment, exaggerating a theatrical ‘ah!’ for effect, and then holds out the bottle for RJ, “I am a gracious winner, and I’ll let you have some of the spoils.”

“How very gracious of you~” Rushing Jaws compliments, adding his own touch of theatrical flair to the comment and the gesture before taking the bottle and drinking from it.

“What can I say? I’m good at shooting and being gracious. In that vein, though…” She kneels down to her own backpack, which was large and built for the outback. RJ hadn’t missed a moment to tease her about it - ‘are you planning on getting lost out here?’ he laughed - but it was sized perfectly for what she needed as she pulls out; a heated blanket, a small portable stereo, and a small cooler.

Taking the blanket by one end and unfurling it with a snap of her wrists, she lays it down onto the Martian soil, flopping herself down on it with the cooler and stereo in hand. She sets Seze to play one of her playlists, and old school classics begin to play out of the stereo. The next thing she does is to turn on the heated blanket as she fishes through the cooler.

She looks up to Rushing Jaws with a grin, pulling out a six pack of beers, which she selected simply because there was an orca whale on the logo of the can, “I was ready to have my ass kicked, so I had this in hand and ready. I have no idea if it’s any good or not, so you’ll have to tell me.”

“In my defense, you were getting your ass kicked right up to that last shot there,” Rushing Jaws says with a wink, cracking open a cold one that Eppie hands off to him and taking a swig from it: the beer has the sharp, pleasantly bitter taste of an IPA, and he takes a long pull off of it. He checks the label on the can: Boreal Ocean IPA, by Blackfish Brewing Company.

“I had you on the ropes and you know it, you smug son of a bitch,” Eppie says with no bite, her cheeks warmed by the rosé.

“Like hell you did,” Rushing Jaws jabs back, “some of those shots were lookin’ real iffy in the back half.”

Yo, this is good stuff.
[Looks like its neo-cet owned and operated!]
No shit??
[Not a single one, according to their mesh site.]

“Not bad, baby doe! This is good stuff!”

Eppie sips her bottle of rosé, rolling her eyes at his bravado but happy to see his approval in her beer choices nonetheless, “Thank God. I know nothing about beer so I’m glad you like it,” Then, returning to the play back and forth, she sits up on her knees to face him, raising her eyebrows, “Oh, but I made the shot. And isn’t that the point?”

“Just a friendly ego check, is all,” Rushing Jaws answers with a teasing smirk and a cackle, finding a spot on the blanket he can plop down next to her before doing so. Amid the natural cold of the Martian end-of-day, the blanket feels almost hot to the touch, but he’s thankful to have it. He looks to Eppie - who presently has a shit-eating grin on her face that nonetheless warms a place deep in his heart to see - and offers a toast. “To the victor, black magic and all!”

She laughs, clinking her bottle against his can, “Ah, another man claiming witchcraft just because a woman beat him. Deplorable,” She winks, then takes a good long drink of her rosé. After she swallows, she looks at him coyly, “But is it cheating if I asked the Star? Asking for a friend.”

“Hey now, I don’t think I’ve done anything to warrant being called a man,” Rushing Jaws quips, watching Eppie take a good long drink of her rosé; “I still think it would be, only I feel like you’d only do that if you were real scared of losin’ cause I imagine there’s a hell of an invoice for that kind of service?”

Eppie shrugs, “Oh, well. That’s only if I do it wrong. Sometimes it’s okay. I’ve had some killer days - if you ever get W/M, don’t try to mindlink with a stinger hound. It fucking hurts.”

“I feel like I wouldn’t get close enough to fuckin’ try, but duly noted,” Rushing Jaws says with a laugh, taking a long sip like it isn’t the IPA he’s savoring. “Funny thing - did you know the corp that makes this stuff is all owned by neo-cetaceans?”

“I did not, but that’s lovely. Finally, a beer I can shotgun without feeling like I’m contributing to sape-supremacy.”

“Really? You didn’t hand-pick the beer made ‘by neo-cets, for neo-cets?’ Pure coincidence? You didn’t happen to get a tip from my muse or anything?”

“Honestly, I picked it because there’s an orca whale on the front of it. I thought it would be cute and that you’d like it?”

“You weren’t wrong! I’m just sayin, it happened to be the perfect choice in so many other ways, and I think that's kinda neat.”



She shrugs, as if to say ‘what can I say?’, the says, “I know how to do three things; I know how to shoot guns, I know how to be gracious, and I’m good at pleasing whales -” The possible double entendre hits her two seconds too late, and she flushes scarlet pink in the Martian sunset, then laughs in embarrassment as she covers her face with her hands, “Uh. Not like that, in this case. Jesus.” She uncovers her face to take a long, long drink of her rose.

Ignoring his own racing heartbeat, deciding this is the moment, Rushing Jaws responds with a simple question in a low, rasping tone: “Why not~?”

Her heart had been racing in her chest, but it stops dead in her chest at RJ’s words before picking up to an even faster pace. Her gaze snaps to him, eyebrows high and eyes wide, and says, “Figured it was a safe bet to assume you weren’t attracted to the psychically-disabled sape.” She then winces as her words hit her, “Sorry. That came out super depressing. But the point stands.” She’s quiet, looking to RJ with searching eyes, “Are…?”

Are you interested in me? hangs in the silence that follows Eppie’s trailing question, and she bites her lip to keep the rest of it in her mouth. She wants to ask him the whole question. Her heart leaps to be given the chance. But she also wants to pull those same words out of the air, so desperately afraid that his answer will be no. Having those that loved her most abandon her over her Watts-McLeod left her with scars that still freely bleed, and they are wounds that have damaged her relationships with those that stayed. It’s so early, and she’s only known him for a short time, but she already knows that she can’t bear the thought that she is doomed to hurt him.

But he’s so gentle to her. She held his hand and brought their minds together, and he responded to her sleight only with wonder and enthusiasm. Even then, he was trusting her only at her word but he did it without hesitation. He never hesitated with her - never hesitated to speak to her, or touch her, even after seeing an episode threaten their lives. He understood, or at least tried to, without judgment or fear. She wants…

She wants. If she disengages herself from her own self-loathing, she thinks he wants her, too. And isn’t that enough? Why complicate that?

Her mouth won’t form the words she wanted to say before - she knows this and promptly gives up at the idea. Instead, she takes another drink of her rose, then caps it closed and nestles it beside the blanket. Then, gently and with clear intention, she takes RJ’s beer from his hand and also sets that aside. Rising on her knees to close the height difference evident even when sitting, she gently brushes his hair from his eyes and tucks it behind his ear, her hand resting gently at the back of his neck.

“Stop me if I’m overstepping,” She whispers, then she leans down to press her lips gently to his.

Rushing Jaws does not stop her, and in fact rises to meet her kiss. His hands rise to cradle her face between them as if by instinct, and he does not break away until she does. He has no idea why he is so drawn to her, or why he wants this so much, or how his usual fears about being attracted to sapes or kissing sapes or otherwise being intimate with sapes scatter like spooked fish before the light that is Eppie Cross...but maybe that’s okay. Maybe it’s enough that he get to have this moment with her, here, in the Martian outback, with no one else in eyeshot for kilometers around, only days away from what is easily going to be one of the most dangerous hells Firewall has ever asked him to march into. Maybe it’s enough that he gets this moment of affection, of tenderness, of desire, with someone who swept him out of the water with a song on a distant, foggy dock.

She breaks the kiss, shifting to tuck her head into the crook of his neck, nuzzling her forehead against him. Despite the act being keenly neo-cetacean, it feels natural to be affectionate like this, and it feels just as natural to follow the motion into his lap, settling against him and looping her arms loosely around his waist. She closes her eyes, pressing a kiss to the side of his throat, before brushing the bridge of her nose against the juncture of his neck and shoulder. She says nothing, the quiet only interrupted by the music playing from the stereo, but simply enjoys the feeling of him breathing steadily under her.

He sits with her like this for a long, unmarked interval, peace upon him in a way like he hasn’t known in a very long time. He gasps softly with every kiss, ego and morph as one in thrilling at every kiss, ever affectionate nuzzle, every gentle caress, every gesture of affection that Eppie lavishes him with. He holds her in his arms, an irrational fear that letting go will shatter the moment as if it is an illusion and not a culmination. With a slow, deliberate movement, he guides Eppie back to him for another long kiss.

“Don’t worry, baby doe,” he says, in a tone so soft it barely notches above a whisper.

“Worried about going to our deaths at the TQZ?” She murmurs against his mouth.

His laugh is soft against her mouth, but it is full; “Sure, that too, but also...about us...”

She leans back with a smile, unwinding a hand to muss his hair into chaos, “Who says I’m worried?”

Despite the knowing laughter that issues from him at that, he keeps his cards close; “Some of those shots were lookin a little iffy in the back half, there~”

“Oh, a call back to my victorious shooting match. Also; that’s awful critical for a whale who just got kissed, if I do say so,” Eppie teases.

“You fuckin’ smartass-” Rushing Jaws says, pulling her back in for a shut-her-right-up kind of kiss.

Eppie laughs into his kiss, leaning right into his touch as he grips her by her waist and lays her back against the blanket. She ignores the impending threat of the TQZ and all it may hold, and, worse, that the voices in her mind sing a joyful homecoming every time she thinks about it. She ignores that they’re going into danger surrounded by people that may take the chance to kill them in the Zone. She’s even able to ignore the fact that they’ll be trapped in a hostile area in a post-Vidar-and-Jackie-kiss world.

She takes this moment of light and warmth and savours it, leaning into the kiss of a boy that likes her, and takes his advice. She doesn’t worry about any of that, and instead, she kisses him senseless under the setting Martian sun.
 
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Give me love and money,
Give me your love my baby,
Give me kisses honey,
I deserve the best you know it,
Give me love and money,
I have the rest already,
Love and money coming from you,
Is what I need!

Sleipnir [internal]: I know you’re doing this on purpose.
Nanti [internal]: What ever could you mean?
Sleipnir: Queen of mean, love is in danger, and now give me love and money? It’s every song that makes me think of her.
Nanti: Just a coincidence. It’s shuffled, really.
Sleipnir: Really?
Nanti: You can trust me.

Mach hadn’t been on the road long. Er, the air? He’d barely told RJ about how he was going to retrieve his home morph, and that his boys would be upgrading it for him to boot. Then he was wheels up, rotors out, airborne. He let Nanti pick the soundtrack, and… it felt like a mistake. She wanted him to open up a little, talk, let out all that stress. That stress kept him on edge. And on that edge was where he needed to be, out in the zone. He knew he had multiple days of waiting ahead, and spending one on the road… Well, he supposed he could’ve been relaxing. Should’ve, rather. But horrors loomed tall in his mind and paranoia had kept his grip on the white knuckle for ten whole minutes before he fell into a rhythm and let his connection to the car take over. Then… the song changed. Too drastically to be any doubt. One of the few songs in his library that wasn’t eurobeat.

Gasolina?

Sleipnir: Nope, nope, no more, kill the music.
Nanti: But I like this song…
Sleipnir: I know you want me to chill but I gotta go to the zone in THREE DAYS. I can’t.
Nanti: You know how bad this is for you, right? Just talk to me. Let your feelings out. I’m qualified, dude! Like, at least see if anyone still has torrentable weed.
Sleipnir:...

Sleipnir {Tacnet}: I don’t want to ask y’all for advice… but my muse is sassing me and I can’t deal right now.
Azathothwakes: 👀🥃
Mehajakumaar: 👀🍵
Sleipnir: Guys. Please. I am three days from being in the zone and she’s trying to make me chill about it.
Azathothwakes: is that
Azathothwakes: is that a bad thing or
Sleipnir: Kind of??? If I don’t go in paranoid I don’t come back out???
Azathothwakes: counterpoint to that: if you go in calm and collected, your odds of making mistakes due to paranoid overthinking n’ missing something go way down
Mekhajakumaar: What do you mean by ‘going in paranoid?’
Sleipnir: Rob ain’t no straightforward guy, most of the time. Bastard can hit you from any angle and end you with a touch. Last time I went in the zone with someone calm, he thought he checked all the angles. Crab spike under a pile of loose paperwork got him. As for mistakes… Well, I might waste a little ammo sometimes but… Sometimes it’s not a waste, YFM?
Mekhajakumaar: An abundance of caution is certainly warranted in a place like the TQZ, to be sure.
Azathothwakes: fine line between caution and paranoia though
Azathothwakes: so like
Azathothwakes: its true, Rob’s as clever as he is fuckin’ evil. It’s entirely possible we’re gonna run into nasty stuff in there that wrecks the best laid plans we can try to draw up. So caution? Absolutely warranted.
Azathothwakes: idk if you were listening in when we were riding down here from the City with jackie et al and i was havin that friendly shouting match, but I remember that op well enough that there’s an example ‘might serve us here
Azathothwakes: when things went to shit, a squadmate named Katya was as jumpy as a reef fish, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. Problem was, there was a whole lot of it, from all directions, aboard that beehive hell, and she worried herself fuckin’ ragged. Even shot at a few random noises - didn’t hit anything but did serve to let the uglies know exactly where we were. Suffice it to say bad things happened to her
Azathothwakes: theres a point where fear stops being your friend and starts draining your ability to judge a situation and act accordingly, and you gotta know where that point is and be able to make yer way back from it
Azathothwakes: the Zone’s gonna be rough, no two ways about it
Azathothwakes: we’ll be better able to do what we gotta do once we’ve all caught up on sleep, gotten some augs off our wishlists, and had some good ol R&R
Mekhajakumaar: I’ll admit to being anxious about this mission myself, comrade. I tend to focus more on urban operations, and this will be my first time going into the Zone. which is why i intend on treating myself to every luxury in my grasp for as much as possible before D-day comes.
Sleipnir:... Damn it of course y’all would agree with her… Fiiiiine I guess y’all are right… Can you guys at least pass me a digital bong? Some Pirate Bay torrented weed? Something?
Mekhajakumaar: Pirate bay? How charmingly retro of you!
Mekhajakumaar: Just a moment, I have a link to a narcoalgorithm I need to dig up that ought to help you.
Mekhajakumaar: cherrynimbus.exe
Mekhajakumaar: Courtesy of a good friend of mine back in Noctis! Enjoy responsibly.
Sleipnir: Ha. You’re funny.

One download and handing off the wheel later, and the fast boi found himself slowly, gradually slipping into actual relaxation. Nanti could handle the wheel for a bit. The ride wasn’t going to be exciting. Just a very long, relaxing drive… On weed. With his eurobeat slowed down and the volume low.
 
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Two Widowed Sword Goblins Go On A Date And It's As Weird As You Think It Is
(ft. TrashRabbit TrashRabbit as Vidar and ValtheStarGal ValtheStarGal as Jenni)​

Vidar had easily agreed to a date. And he had easily agreed to “duel dramatically some place sexy.” He had not realized Jackie would be dragging him back to Jenni’s stunt studio.

“I figured being locked in a gym with several psychics of varying degrees of emotional stability wouldn’t really be your bag, so… This is where I started hitting people with swords,” Jackie explains for no reason in particular, but if there were to be a reason, the reason would be nerves, “Does this work? You’re making a… face. I’m not sure what the face is, but its there.”

“Bold of you to assume I have any control over my face,” He says. Which is true. But also he is not sure he wants Jackie to know anything about Jenni if he can help it.

“Just like you have no control over your ears?” She quips, flicking the very tip of his cat ear for emphasis. The doors swish open with a hiss, and Jackie enters with flair, as if she were coming into her own home. The mats are clear and there is no class in session - in fact, the entire room is almost empty, save a small handful of people training. “I’ve been coming here a few years. Yeah, I’ve got my own gym - which, now that I’ve already said it, is the most bourgeoisie bullshit phrase I’ve ever said - but I’m really one of the only people that uses a sword, and I’ve got the most experience besides. One of the lead trainers here helps me not get lazy, and she’s actually a fucking demon in a very deceptive morph.”

“So your people,” He says.

“Exactly. Jenni could probably do my job as well as I could with double the flair.”

It took every fiber of will power not to say ‘well of course she could’ when it sprang to his tongue. His ears were still pinned as he said, “Sounds like a professional- ah you know,” He said knowing he needed to change the subject and then pray Jenni was not here, “I uh- used to run a joint like this?”

“Was it… A front? Because you don’t seem like the kind of person to run a gym. No offence.”

“It was a legit gym and it was a front. We ran a detective agency out the back and we had mutual aide meetings on thursdays. But I mean we went to mixed kendo championship a couple times- trophies and everything- the real thing.”

“... I have so many questions. First, most importantly - you didn’t take work from cops, right? This is a no cop zone.”

“So- Are you familiar with Disney?” He says, “I was an independent contractor for thirty years but I ended up in a ten year contract for the city after they took the city and the merger and all that. So like yes, but it was also like being in prison and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t rub it in.”

“Ah, got the ol’ Capitalism bamboozle. I know it well. I’ll be honest, I don’t know much about the whole Disney situation but I heard it was shit.”

“Sucked ass,” He says as they come to the wall of available fiberglass swords hung on the wall.

“Mm, sounds like it,” Jackie comments absently, then pulls an obsidian black blade off of the wall, “I think you’ll like the lavender one. You seem like a lavender person.”

He makes a face but doesn’t argue as he grabs a good lavender sword off the wall, “You only know that cause your boy hacked me.”

“Oh, Tom? He didn’t actually succeed, he just gave it his best shot. I would ask how you knew that, but honestly, don’t wanna know,” Jackie slips her shoes off before she steps up on to the mats, placing her sword on the ground to tie back her hair into an out-of-the-way ponytail, “You have a public mesh profile with gardening orchids. Soft pastel purples seemed like a fair bet to make.”

Vida shrugged, because well he was not displaying his @rep publicly and while Tom had not managed to really hack his systems it still counted as a hack- it was kind of endearing that she was oblivious. But then he knew Tom and that felt like the kind of thing he’d forget to mention when trying to be a wingman.

“You got me. I’m simple. I like swords rats and orchids. Lavender is my favorite color. And I drink my coffee plain like a psychopath. Your turn,” He said as his smart clothes rearranged so as not to have shoes. He flips the blades around at teh wrist in a couple slow circles to get the weight. Because damn. He’s still small. And that makes every sword nearly a little too big.

“Only valid way to drink coffee,” She says, picking up her sword and rising to her feet. She tests the weight of her own blade - it’s a small thing, but having blades be specifically crafted for her hand, body, and expertise has spoiled her. Jackie spins the sword once, twice, considering the answer to Vidar’s request, “I drink coffee like an honest Italian, because my roots allow me nothing else - if I have time, cappuccino; if I don’t, I get an espresso shot. Following your whole personality scheme, I also like swords, I like dogs, and I like bluebells. My favourite colour is red because I’m an Aries.” She spins her blade again, then holds it point down in a resting position, “Any ground rules you’d like to set?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“I like that spirit.”

“Best three out of five?” He suggests.

Jackie winks, “If you think you’ll last that long.”

“I mean I’ve been test driving this whole clitoris thing and you know so far so good,” He says not batting an eye and taking a defensive stance with his sword.

Jackie spins her sword, “I mean I’ve got sixty nine years of experience with one - if you want me to show you the ropes…”

“Oh I’m pretty familiar with ropes,” He says and and makes an extremely half assed feint.

“Something to keep in mind for later!” Jackie quips, pivoting from his feint and going for a strike at Vidar’s head. He ducks and hops away and manages to smack his training sword against hers in another extremely half assed piss poor form of a parry. Having his head being at his opponent's shoulder height is still a novel experience and while he is playing at ineptitude he does need a few moments to acclimate to the metrics of the situation.

He’s far too unsteady, and knowing from intel and his affiliation with the Concerned Citizens Brigade makes her inclined to think that he’s too new to this body to feel comfortable with it’s size. So, Jackie goes in aggressively; she smacks his sword hard to the side, throwing him wide. She takes the opportunity she has with his arms wide and she boots him in the chest to knock him down.

He squeaks like a chew toy as he goes down and laughs, rolls and parries with her next two downward blows with a level of skill that makes more sense for him. He takes a pop shot at her legs as he goes.

He squeaks, and then he laughs, and it delights Jackie so much that she doesn’t see the pop shot until it takes her out at the knee. She catches herself before her head hits the mat, ducking her head and rolling out of Vidar’s reach before he can thwack her again. She gets back up onto her feet, dancing out of the way of Vidar.

Vidar rolls backwards and back on to his feet with a cat like sort of acrobat move that is only possible as a cat girl- “Okay, Alright,” vidar says rolling his shoulder, “lets try that again.” He begins to circle her again taking on a real stance.

“Will you hit me if I ‘pspspsps’ at you, kitty?”

“If you want to get hit, hold still,” He says taking several aggressive wings, more like he’s got a baseball bat than a sword.

Jackie cackles while skipping back out of range of his attacks, “I was picturing something sexier, but okay-” She steps into one particular swing, catching his sword against her’s in a parry, and tries to bonk him on the head.

He side steps neatly busting out the good foot work for a moment to exchange two more blows before bonking her- more taping her on the head with his dull blade, “Go to horny jail.”.

“If you strike me down, I will become more horny than you can possibly imagine,” And then Jackie whacks him in the tit.

He lets out a yelp and curls up like a rolly polly swearing profusely in norwegian punctuated by stamping his foot. He’d never been hit in the tit before. He makes something of a recovery before coming at her with his absolute A game, putting her on the defensive and then just fucking whacks her.

Jackie yelps, jumping away from him and swearing in a flurry of pained Spanglish. She pivots and deflects the attacks that follow, “Jokes on you, I’m into that shit,” She says, trying to use her sword mastery to whack him back.

“Oh good it would be weird if it was just me,” He says, parrying a couple times then taking a whack in return in stride. They didn’t stop the match after each hit like you might see in fencing as sport and the sense of play is obvious.

Jackie laughs heartily, followed quickly by a shriek as she almost trips over herself trying to evade a thwack. She steps back into the ring he circles, trying with no grace to hit him, as if she weren’t a trained swordswoman and was instead a kid trying to whack him with a plastic lightsaber. She’s laughing too hard to focus, and Vidar rewards her for that by whacking on the back when she tries and fails to dodge him.

“Okay, that’s it-” She tosses her sword to the side and rushes him, ignoring him bonking her on the shoulder to pick him right off his feet by his waist. He thrashes in her arms as she tackles him to the ground, scrambling with him and contending with skinny flailing limbs, “Stop- Stop squirming-”

She pins his arms with her hands, using her larger size and fury morph augmentations to hold him down. Panting to catch her breath, she grins, and says breathlessly, “This is the part where I prop your chin up with my sword in victory. But my sword is all the way over there and I’m fucking tired.”

Before doubt paralyzes her, she ducks down and presses her lips to his, and murmurs quietly, “I won’t make you take the initiative both times.”

“Jackie? What are you doing with…” asks none other than J.D. “Quicksilver” Olsen, having just walked into the training space, clearly not expecting to find one of her best clients on top of-

“Vidar???”

Vidar was receiving so much dopamine and serotonin from making out on the mats that he almost did not hear his name. And it’s only as Jackie breaks off the kiss and looks up that all 59 copies of his attention span notice Jenni. He then has the good decency to go completely scarlet. Oh he was hoping this wouldn’t happen.

“H-hi.”

It was a good thing he was already dead.

“What-” Jenni begins to say, her brain short circuiting before it could get to the rest of ‘are you doing making out on the mat of my training studio with Jackie Sapienti.’ It takes her a few tries at the question due to how utterly stupefied she is at reconciling the presence of Jackie and Vidar, in her studio, making out on the mat, two practice swords that match their general aesthetic within proximity of the pair. “What are you two doing…”

“Don’t kinkshame me.” Jackie deadpans.

I’ve lost my mind, Jenni thinks to herself; “I’m- what? No, that’s not- okay. How do you two even know each other???”

“I tried to kill him and he made it sexier than I planned.”

“Jackie, you know that raises so many more questions than it answers, right?” Jackie does not get off of Vidar.

“Leaving it to the imagination is always the sexier option, right?”

Jenni makes a face like she has a momentary struggle to keep her soul inside her body at that comment: “N-no? What?? Why were you trying to kill him?? How did he make it sexier than you planned?? What’s going on here???”

“You also apparently know my friend here, so like… you tell me.”

“Vidar and I knew each other back on Earth, Jackie!! I’ve known him since I was a teenager!! The last time I saw him in a position like this, I was 17!! What is happening???”

Jackie pauses, sitting back on Vidar’s hips with that knowledge, then she smacks her hand over her mouth, then shouts, “Oh my God,, Jenni was the kid that stabbed you to death?!”

“I will neither confirm nor deny,” He says. This was some how not the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to him.

“Jenni, you broke my date.”

Jenni’s hand immediately goes to her temple as she tries to process not just Jackie’s charge, but also the sheer audacity of the thing. “Why are one of my best clients and- just- fucking -”

“- Not yet -”

“Jackie, so help me god I will kill you in sight of my very important client-”

“- is that a promise -”

Vidar gives Jackie a little shove off of him with his foot, “Be nice to Jenni.”

“Just- what is going on here?? Jackie, I taught you what he taught me back in J-bloc!! Is it really too much to ask for a straight answer?” Jenni asks, on the precipice of madness.

“Oh that’s why you don’t suck,” Vidar says to Jackie with prejudice, then; “We met. She asked me on a date. I’m dumb. Didn’t realize there was only one sword joint on Mars. We’re here. Tada. Sorry.” he says to Jenni in rappid norwegian.

Jackie scoffs, “I don’t suck because I have drive and a desire to kill. Or something. And yes. Jenni, you tell me every time I say anything that you don’t want to hear anything that you’ll have to testify about later. What went down between me and your Norwegian Dad - apparently - falls so heavily into that category that I’m not going to go into it.”

Jenni opens her mouth to respond to that, and closes it when she realizes she can’t. She takes a deep, deep breath.

“Thank you for that much,” Jenni says, making her peace with that being as much as she’s likely going to get. “This is a lot to unpack as it is, and I have a client who’ll be here in a few minutes I need to be ready for, so just-”

Jenni takes a breath, not even sure of what to say for a moment.

“Please don’t kill him, I guess?”

“I can’t kill him now, we’ve gone on a date.”

HermesPython {pm to 2sday}: [Seriously, are you okay??]
2sday: [I’m literally on my first date in year. But I’m good. 100%]
2sday: [did you get my XP?]
HermesPython: [you know i did, actually]
HermesPython: [i don’t suppose this is connected to what went down in that XP recording, is it?]
2sday: [No? That’d be weird. Why would you say that?]
HermesPython: [the XP recording had a real ‘desperate fight for your life’ vibe between the combat drugs and the firefighting, so call it a shot in the dark]
2sday: [So fun fact I od’d about 5 minutes later. That was. A time.]

Maybe that would distract Jenni enough to wriggle away from opsec questions.

“That’s not how that works,” He says to Jackie, getting himself out from under her and groping around for the practice sword.

“No, no, no, no-” Jackie wiggles away to get her own sword before Vidar can kill her with it.

“Hey, guys, c’mon-” Jenni starts to say, rushing to avert disaster.

Vidar looks at Jackie as he gets his sword back in his hands and then points it at Jenni instead, “Hey C’mon we’re paying for the matt time right. You wanna fight?”

Jackie thwacks Vidar at the knees with her sword as he looks away.

“I will kill you,” he hisses, at Jackie but doesn’t look away from Jenni. He kinda hopes she’ll go a round, he’s high on good brain chemicals and doing hte thing he likes but Jenni is trapped in ssrrss bssnss mode and he hates that for her..

Jackie makes a show of fanning herself, “Hot.”

“I do not have time-” Jenni says, something calling her attention back toward the door - that something being an impossibly beautiful and important-looking someone dressed for a day at the gym.

Jackie eyes the customer from her position, and says, entirely too loudly, “Oh, are you fucking them? Treat them gently.”

“Did I not just tell you to be nice to Jenni?” vidar says with some level of seriousness.

If looks could kill, then Jackie would’ve died from killer glare Jenni throws her way.

“Do not make a fool of me in front of one of the industry’s biggest actresses,” Jenni warns in a rasped whisper before trotting over to greet the woman on the mat and begin the session that had already had her so wound up before the spectacle of witnessing Jackie and Vidar in her own dojo.

“Oh, so you are! Cute!” Jackie glances at Vidar with a helpless shrug, “I have an appointment later next week with Jenni - she’ll get her revenge. But alas, the demon eating my brain has digested the filter between my brain and my mouth.”

“Yeah okay,.” He says with out bite, “Want to go another round or do you want to ge throw bricks at cops or something and get out of Jenni’s hair?”

“I was thinking ice cream, honestly. If I stay any longer, I know that Jenni has a real sword that she’ll use to commit real murder, and I would like to live another day.”

“She’s not gentle,,” He says from experience, “Ice cream then.”

Jackie takes his hand, interlocking their fingers and pressing a kiss to his cheek, “Ice cream.”
 
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