Futuristic Welcome to A T L U S [Main Thread, OPEN]

[WolfSol]

Welcome to A T L U S, P L A Y E R.

​

Like clockwork, Atlus's neon lights flicker at 8:30am. The cacophony of hovercraft, patrol drones, and early risers drowns underneath the daily Atlus Weather and News Channel as its anchorman's face takes form on every available screen. It brings one of the planet's largest and most crime-infested cities to a pause as the anchorman, the renowned Maize Arnold, greets its watchers with a greasy smile.

Gooood morning, Atlus! Maize Arnold here, bringing you top stories and weather forecasts.

A holographic advertisement on Boulevard Avenue glitches, Arnold's clean shaven face fizzing in and out in a flurry of color.

A group of terrorists, believed to be tied with the Rogue organization, were caught last night during an investigation on the power outages in Atlus's eastern district. A spokesperson for the investigation stated that the terrorists were un-chipped and had planned to target the Academy to "free" All-Mother's children. They will be given a closed trial this weekend by the Confidants. On other news, the Arokian soldier, a Vincent android model, that was infected by an unknown virus was decommissioned just this morning. The virus has been linked to the terrorist group, and the authorities have verified that the virus has been contained and is no longer a threat.

Onto the weather. This Sunday morning we will see a high of 85°F, accompanied by 76% chance of rain from 10am to 2pm and 7pm to 11pm.

This is Maize Arnold with AWNC, signing off.

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The Black Market and Market business location: East Atlus
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Character Locations:
Omis
Emerillia Omia; WolfSol : Black Market
Roscoe Lemmings; -ferret- : Black Market

Rogues

Outlaws
- commonly used to signify a wanted person who is involved in illegal activity. They are un-chipped and often work for-hire or in their own business.
Francene "Franny" Wen; Life. : N/A
Denebola Twei; AsterRose : Black Market's The Javelin

Arokian Soldiers
- many soldiers in the Arokian Empire are human, but their enhancements put them above the rest. Regardless, the human soldiers are not as feared as the androids. They are often a jack of all trades, many taking on various forms of combat and strategy.
Cosette Blanchamek; rakshasa : N/A
Coming Soon; WolfSol : N/A

Atlus City Law Enforcement
- the city's law enforcement is relatively underfunded and small in comparison to the Empire's soldiers; however, they are the only ones that focus on homicides and thefts of which are usually carried out by those un-chipped or malfunctioned.
AY-424-RA; Maeteris : N/A

Confidants
- akin to royalty, Confidants are the only ones allowed to see the true form of the All-Mother.
Regen Fossers; WolfSol : With All-Mother

Brokers
- similar to outlaws, brokers are exceptional observers, manipulators, and escape artists. They do not particularly take sides, and will only help, give, or share information if money or valuable information is involved.
Stanley "Stan" Higgins; Life. : Headed to eastern zone, Black Market

Hackers
- like brokers, hackers typically do not take sides, are are often treated as mercenaries. Many do not have a moral code and act anonymously. They, like outlaws, are un-chipped.
Dossian O'Nell; WolfSol : Near Black Market. In an eastern zone apartment complex.

Mechanics
- fluent tinkerers with a knack for machinery, cybernetics, and prosthetics, mechanics are incredibly creative, quick thingers.
Lillian Vasteria; FunkyLittleMothman : N/A

Prothestists
- fluent in cybernetics and prosthetics, many Prothestists have a high capacity for learning and observation. They are very intellectual and bear abnormal memory.
Stein Goro; Divon : N/A

Students
- students are those enrolled in the Academy. They are incredibly driven to please, represent, and support All-Mother. They, like many of the chipped, are dedicated and emotionally lacking.
Elis Brighton; WolfSol : N/A

 

[WolfSol]

Dossian "Doss" O'Nell​

The rain came earlier than predicted. A thick curtain of water that instantly drenched Dossian's dark green jacket. It clung to his body, a second layer, even as he sought refuge under a store's overhang. He picked at the jacket, peeled it from his body, and took a moment to ensure that the small package tucked underneath his jacket was relatively safe. Its envelope was damp, but other than that the package had yet to be ruined from the downpour. That wouldn't last long though, especially when he dipped back into the narrow street, the jacket clinging to him once again.

The rain, although disagreeably warm and wet, wasn't quite what made the trek back home incredibly uncomfortable though. No, it was the sight of the bone-white, faceless masks that made the long walk unnerving. With the broadcast that morning, Atlus's eastern zone had seen a significant increase of Arokian patrols. At every corner, Dossian found an Arokian soldier. Each soldier stood motionless against the facades of buildings, the rain seemingly glitching over their long trench coats. With each sighting, Dossian zeroed his eyes on the long strips of street, but his peripherals easily caught sight of their large weaponry and the imposing words that flickered over their masks.

The All-Mother is watching.

A sugar coated phrase that was seen as endearing by many, and it made him sick to his stomach. How was that endearing, how could people see that as anything but a threat? Dossian couldn't help but shake his head at the thought. How that artificial intelligence's god complex came to be accepted by the masses, how it came to be something akin to a god, was beyond him, but he was certain that it wasn't quite what it claimed to be. Yet even after years of being stuck on a wretched planet that believed in one hundred percent apathy, he had yet to prove his beliefs. All-Mother's network was much more complex than its followers' love and loyalty for it. In fact, it almost seemed nonexistent, but how else was she able to connect, to control? Sure, the Arok Empire used frequencies for various communication, but the All-Mother used much more than a simple frequency or channel.

He turned another corner, closing in on the last narrow intersection before his apartment complex came into view. Again he caught sight of a stationary soldier, the phrase pulling his stomach into knots as it flashed across the white face. A solid reminder that he was no closer to finding out how to stop All-Mother than he was to getting off the planet as an un-chipped.

Un-chipped. Dossian paused, his boots sloshing to a stop as the word sunk in and brought a face and name to mind. Right, at least he was un-chipped. At least All-Mother hadn't taken that, will, emotions, and choice, from him.

His thoughts led him forward, and as he came to a stop before a crosswalk his thoughts shifted to those that were not as lucky. Well, out of all of them, Stan was fairly lucky. Unlike the chips that Dossian had gotten his hands on in the past, most of which had been removed or damaged and ended up useless, Stan's chip had been incredibly helpful. From it, he'd discovered just a handful of frequencies that the Arok Empire used. Though he figured a chip that was in perfect condition, without malfunctions, would be much more useful. At least he had something that relatively worked more than the removed chips, and that was much better than nothing.

Thinking of the broker, Dossian blinked. A partially transparent user interface phased into his view, and it flickered in and out as he focused on composing a quick message.

The store is out of your favorite eclairs, so I'm going to head back.
[ Black Market is located in east Atlus, if you're available then come over. ]

It was already risky sending someone who was chipped a message, even if the message was coded, but it was worth the risk if it meant getting closer to getting into the All-Mother's network. That and it wasn't easy finding the shady guy on his own, even with his connections.

Mentions: Life.

 

[WolfSol]

Emerillia "Em" Omia​

The Market was busy as always, even in the morning. Elbowing through the patrons was akin to wading through a sea of mud. An unnerving feeling, but she'd grown used to it over the years. Today was no exception for Emerillia as she and one of her subordinates trudged through the narrow stretch of stalls. She pushed a hawker to the side, ignoring his curses as she zigzagged into the next strip of stalls. All the while her eyes sought out the hovering orbs above the sea of Market consumers. The solid orbs floated several feet above the stalls, each pulsing gradually into various shades of green. They'd been a new yet helpful addition to the Market, acting as a sort of alarm or warning when their colors turned to red. Red meant danger. Red meant get the fuck out or get caught by Arok's lapdogs.

Usually she didn't seek them out with every chance she had, but this morning was different. This morning they'd seen a major increase in Arokian soldiers, many of which were a bit too close to the Black Market for comfort. It was likely thanks to the events that had happened last night. All-Mother likely feared the "terrorists" would encourage the masses, but Em knew damn well that that was unlikely. Especially since the "terrorists" had been caught so easily. After all, the wretched All-Mother "knew all" and her followers were just as mindless as a box of rocks.

She reached the end of the second line of stalls before turning back around with a frustrated grunt. Her black bangs fanned upward for a brief moment, and then she was on the move again. Like the Market, it was always a hassle finding the Mecha. At least it was somewhere within the Market's walls, but finding it was never as easy as she'd like. Although it wasn't that the Mecha was hard to find, but more like it was hard to find the nook and cranny it had taken over thanks to all the stalls. They lined up either side of her, forming a labyrinth of various goods, both illegal and legal. Most of which were overpriced, but compared to things sold by those who were chipped, the stuff was slightly more affordable.

Five hundred is still a bit too much for a measly laser knife.

It was the eleventh fence of stalls where she found the Mecha. As usual, it sought refuge in a nook and cranny farther down where the stalls gradually stopped. Em grinned at the sight of it, and quickened her pace. All the while she twisted her fingers, crossing them as she cut the distance between her and the mechanic's shop. The Mecha had told her that her auditory enhancements would likely be fixed today, but that there was a chance that they wouldn't be due to a missing part. If it had been anyone else, Em likely would have flipped at the mere idea of her enhancements not being fixed right off the bat. But this was the Mecha, Lillian, and they kicked ass. Something that Em and many of the Omia respected. If she couldn't get the job done right away, no harm, no foul.

Still she kept her fingers crossed. It had barely been a day, but already Em had missed the ability to hear.

Mentions: FunkyLittleMothman

 

[Life.]

Stan Higgins
A gentle and steady tapping on the glass window echoed across the small, untidy, improvised bedroom. Although messy would be an understatement of the current condition of the area, there were articles of clothing strewn everywhere, drawers littering the floor, holes and scratches on the wall, decorations knocked out of place, a ripped up mattress, and a crumpled man on the floor. It was clear that his rampage on his room would have caught the attention of neighbors had he lived in a complex of a sort. Fortunately, he built a sanctuary in an abandoned attic of a once busy archival storage of the city Atlus. The government had turned to utilizing more of the government's cloud space, as crime rates threatened the security of the information they held.

The morning jingle of the city news echoed across the floor beneath Stan's room. He caught words of the Rogue organization terrorizing Atlus once more. But the word "terrorize" repeated itself in his mind. To terrorize would mean to achieve political gains through violence or instill fear into the public with violence. However, their goal consisted of "freeing" citizens under All-Mother. Stan continued to lie there, lost in his thoughts and confusion.

Last night he had experienced another "episode." First, there was the startling noise of static silencing every sound around him. Then, came the uncomfortable static pulses that surged through his body. Lastly, followed by the odd sensations of heat flaring up on his neck, cheeks, and chest and goosebumps down his spine and legs. The sudden fluctuations of body temperature followed by unnatural consciousness of unseen heaviness on his heart and mind. He had felt an increase of heartbeat along with a burst of energy in his arms and legs. Beads of bodily condensation--or as he eventually learned, sweat--formed at the edge of his face. Each time he felt a sudden flip of a switch on his body, Stan felt something. He was unsure was to describe it as. However, he knew that it was a sensation he wanted to get rid of. Throughout the night, the sensations changed depending on what thoughts were dominating his mind. At some point an agitation of increased body heat and concentrated strength on his arms dominated his senses to hit the walls, throw about his clothes, and mess up anything else in his sight.

The man wanted control back of his body, but he grew aware that during these "episodes" some other domineering factor took charge. But over the past few months he had reached out to a hacker that could perhaps provide him with guidance onto what he was experiencing. Doss, as he knew him, was the man he found. Gradually, Stan learned that he was one of the few in the population to have a malfunctioning chip. His episodes were periods when the chip was on a fritz and what took control was "emotions." These unpredictable sensations he experienced from time to time unsettled him, or when his chip returned to its normal state, alerted him.

When Stan underwent his first spell, the broker was ready to reach out to entities associated with All-Mother, individuals who had all the answers as All-Mother continuously chanted. But some small person inside of Stan was curious on the chip's power. He wanted information, since information always meant value.

But last night's episode had left him drained of energy once he was returned to his normal settings. He had not consumed any sustenance afterwards and this left his stomach grumbling. Stan planned to regain his energy and grip on his usual routine until he heard the little bell of a notification. The white-haired man blinked once to pull up an interface screen. To view it without straining his vision, Stan flicked the screen over to the wall, where it automatically maximized. It was a message from the hacker, Dossian.

Reading the name, a small smile formed at his lips. Stan felt this unnatural reaction and he immediately shook his head. It was odd. The malfunctioned chip has left side effects on him now. Especially when Dossian is in topic. The broker has also noted how it was strange how sometimes during his breakdowns, whenever the image of Dossian pops into his head, the erratic sensations settle, and instead he feels a contained warmth inside of him along with a light feeling. Stan has never brought this up to Doss because he saw it unnecessary, but over the months Stan has been trying to discern what it meant.

Focusing back to the projection, he read that the hacker wanted to meet up. This was an opportune moment to discuss what "emotions" he experienced last night and hopefully receive more insight from the hacker, who is un-chipped and well versed on the unnatural settings. Stan stood up from the floor and returned the hacker's message.

That is unfortunate news. I could use some eclairs right now.
[ Understood. ETA - 20 mins ]

WolfSol

 

[-ferret-]

Roscoe "Mouse" Lemmings
​

The black market was possibly Mouse's favorite place. It made him feel something he couldn't identify. He was still getting used to smiling, but he supposed the feeling had something to do with that. It also made his tail swish back and forth, nearly knocking people's feet out from under them.

He followed Emerillia, or Em, closely. Trying not to get distracted by all the pretty, but expensive, things. He'd gotten lost in the black market before. He'd been found crying like an unchipped babe in a corner, overwhelmed and 'upset'. His previous experiences still didn't stop him from wanting desperately to wander off. Especially when they came across things that caught his eye, such as fancy medical supplies and even tail attachments.

Mouse had a standard tail, but no tail attachments. It was a sleek thing, wide at the base, coming to a tip a few feet behind him. He saw a few standard attachments for tails at a stall, but before he could take a peek, Em was whirling around to go back the way they came. Mouse used his tail to help him turn himself at the same breakneck speed so he wouldn't lose her.

Em was looking for the Mecha, which was notoriously hard to find. Mouse could see her starting to get 'frustrated': an emotion he was familiar with. Sometimes things didn't always go the way he wanted them to and that itchy, angry, spicy, nose huffy feeling waz what Em called frustration. 'Frustrated' and 'Angry' did not mean the same thing. Mouse had yet to understand the difference. But he did know why Em was huffy and 'annoyed' (another feeling Mouse still had trouble understanding). Without her ear enhancements, Em couldn't hear. And not hearing was difficult. But the Mecha had the best enhancement mechanic around and would surely have her enhancements ready.

Mouse hoped that if Em was in a good mood after she got her hearing back, maybe she'd take him back to that stall to take a look at the fins. That is if they were still there.

 

[WolfSol]

Regen Fossers​

Silence spread out before him, a cavernous void that would have drowned him if it were not for All-Mother's glorious warmth and light. The golden rays, as thin as spider's silk, washed over him and eased the fatigue that had clung to him since yesterday's events. The lambs that had gone astray, three gang members from the Rogue group, had attempted terrorism. Their actions having pushed the wondrous All-Mother to summon Her Confidants. The all rested on their knees, their legs and robes wet from the water that made up Her earth. They all reveled in the silence, surrounding Her in a wide circle as they awaited her words.

Like always, her voice brushed against the mind like a conscience. '

'' There is still a lamb that has lost their way ,,

That fact alone seemed to cause the Confidants surrounding her to tense. Recognition ate away at their awe of Her beauty, and one by one they gave a solemn nod. Yes, last night their soldiers had only been able to find three out of four terrorists. A shame really, but Empire's human soldiers could only do so much. "Should we make use of the Hunters?" A Confidant across from Regen wondered aloud, their voice bouncing along the abyss that pressed against them.

Hunters... the balding man's eyes drifted to the waters below. Yes, the Hunters would definitely find the poor lamb that had fallen into discord. They, unlike the foot soldiers that were incredibly human, were more attuned to finding fugitives, far more experienced than any decorated foot soldier, and more blessed than most Confidants. It was likely thanks to their loyalty and obedience. Not only that, but unlike man, they were perfect. They were machines, and were far closer to All-Mother than any human would ever hope to be.

'' Yes, they will have a better chance at catching the lamb... Regen, my child, deliver a message to my blessed Hunters. The fugitive will be in the northeastern zone. Remind them that they are to help the lamb find peace once they've found it ,,

A divine kill order. One that he'd heard from the All-Mother many times.

Regen bowed, leaning forward briefly as the circuits upon his skin began to glow green. The glow pulsed once, twice, and then dimmed to a milky white. Within seconds All-Mother's message was sent along Her network, composed for only a handful of her children.

'' If this lamb is not caught then they will forever be lost to us. As for its fellow lambs, they have been given peace ,,

Involved: rakshasa

 

[AsterRose]

Denebola Twei

The morning shift was about to start. Denebola arrived late to the Javelin with a headache, hoping for the odd occurance of nobody showing up until noon. At least she'd be alone for a little bit. She could easily concoct a cure for her hangover behind the bar as she'd wait for the first customer of this fine day. The smell of rain splashing concrete kept her awake and sane as she made her trek to the rolling door that hid the shop from unsuspecting eyes.

Denebola's headache worsened. A metal roof, of course. The rain was amplified, like a thousand tiny out of sync tap dancers were making a performance above her. She ignored many of the lights she was meant to turn on, only selecting an amber one near the bar and near the entrance. It had enough for her to see but not enough to make her want to smack her head on the concrete floor of the building. She kicked a sign out front with her prosthetic limb: THE JAVELIN painted on the back of some VR advertisement billboard, or what was left of it. She wasn't bothered putting up the colourful flags of rebellion across the entrance yet.

Dumping her bag behind the bar, Denebola leaned over it and gagged at a sickening taste still in her mouth. She fished for a lemon wedge out of the tiny fridge to her left, biting into it without flinching. Juice dripped from her full lips. At least that pitiful excuse for breakfast eased her a little bit. It still didn't speed time up.

She finally ditched her hood and shook her blue mane out, tying it up afterwards with a struggle. The rain had soaked through and frizzed her hair up further than it normally was. She always said she'd add more dreads to it but never got around to it. She hooked up the sound system, selecting a playlist of classic Lo-Fi from times ago. The rain had more volume. Denebola set to wiping the bar down slowly with a cloth, humming along to the subtle melody as she stared at the market, already bustling. The ambiance of their intrigue was just far enough for Denebola to not mind them.

 

[WolfSol]

Dossian "Doss" O'Nell

The further Dossian walked into the depths of Atlus's eastern zone, the more soldiers he saw clinging to shadows. It made him on edge, not only for his sake, but for the Black Market and those of the un-chipped that were involved in the Market's services. Nevertheless, the Market had been around for years, and though this had been the first instance in a while, it hadn't been the first time where soldiers had patrolled close to the nomadic Market. He wouldn't be surprised though if the Market moved once again, especially thanks to the broadcast.

His complex, a cheap and rundown set of apartments crawled closer along the horizon. Its aged facade, having once been a light blue, was now a wintry gray, and it eerily matched with the storm clouds overhead. At the sight of it, he picked up his pace. The rain sloshed underfoot while he passed a patrolling drone. Its bulbous head swiveled as he approached, its single green eye going dark every few seconds as if to mimic a blinking gesture, and then it hovered on. He'd only spared it a glance in return. Like the rest of All-Mother's lapdogs, the same message orbited its head in holographic text.

The All-Mother is watching.

Dossian peeled off his jacket as soon as the rickety apartment door slid closed at his back. It fell to the floor with an obnoxiously sounding splat before he searched for the envelope. The paper was soggy, and as soon as he picked it up, it practically disintegrated in his hand. In its place was a small, plastic baggie. A blessing in disguise really. If it hadn't been in a secondary layer of protection, the data would've been lost forever. It's what drew the sigh of relief from him as he kicked the wet jacket off to the side along with his boots. They knocked into the metal shelf of books that hugged the right side of the door. It vibrated dully as he quickly beelined across the small expanse of the room.

The apartment, a studio, was incredibly small. It had just enough room for a table in the corner, the bookshelf by the door, and the mini fridge with the long shelf of small appliances above it. Above the table was the pull out bed that he'd had folded up since the early hours of the morning. A bed of which had a mind of its own at times, sporadically pulling out on its own. It wasn't his preferred apartment, but Bludger's Complex was one of the cheapest studio apartments in the eastern zone. That and it was better than nothing.

Dumping the plastic baggie's contents onto the small table, Dossian searched for his backpack that sat snugly between the corner of a wall and the a table leg. Fishing out his holotop, Dossian quickly set to uncorking the metallic tube. The dial at the top clicked once, twice, and then its cylinder body erupted into a pulsing blue light. An interface melted into view, hovering a mere inch from the tube and expanding out to where it almost took up the whole table. It appeared like a solid, blue square for the breath of a second before a flurry of colors spiraled out from the tube that he placed atop the table.

Loading Holo UI

The loading process was quick as always, and as soon as it opened up to one of his preferred terminals, Dossian looked for the baggie's contents. It was a single chip, an old memory card that was often used in older closed circuit cameras. It was far from the chips used by the Arok Empire, all of which were much smaller. That and the Arokian chips weren't for memory storage. He checked the chip's pins for any potential damage before placing it to the far right of the interface. The chip fell into a hover above it, a tinge of green creating a silhouette underneath it. The tinge turned brighter until it solidified into a solid line. A single white dot appeared and circled the hovering chip along with its green silhouette, before finally shooting out to the center of the holotop's center. From there it expanded, the circle growing in size until it devoured the entirety of the interface. The blue color dematerialized instantaneously, an image take its place.

The image flickered and than, with a single blink of his eyes, it moved. A video came to life underneath a curtain of silence. Its timestamp tracking an event that had happened last night, its subjects being the so-called "terrorists."

Terrorists my ass.

"Holo, transcribe the 0830 broadcast AWNC." At his command a secondary interface, much smaller than the one that took up his table, branched out and above the silent video. It, like the video, flickered. Then in a flurry of green light, a block of text swept over the smaller interface. He quickly glanced over the transcript before watching the video, ensuring the obvious lies in AWNC's daily report. Sure, there were a lot of gangs and rebellious factions in Atlus alone, but he'd worked alongside both the infamous groups of Judes time and time again. Thus he knew a Rogue or Omia member when he saw one, and the group that AWNC had labelled as Rogue were nothing of the sort.

But the video wasn't helpful in verifying or disproving anything else but that. Hopefully Stan would know something through his connections as well as let him test out the handful of frequencies he'd managed to snag from a few patrolling drones last week.

Mentions: Life.

 

[WolfSol]

Emerillia "Em" Omia

Emi stopped dead in her tracks before the ragtag mechanic shop. The usual light from within was absent as was the usual one or two straggling customers that lingered at its facade. Signs that only meant one thing, the Mecha, of all things in the Market, was closed. A painful discovery which drew Emerillia to relent a growl of frustration. Well, it wasn't her first time without auditory enhancements, and with her forgetfulness it definitely wouldn't be the last. Still, she much preferred the ability to hear and feel. It made things so much easier.

The sight of the Mecha being closed was definitely a downer. No, it was a tad infuriating. Already she missed the sound of music, gunfire, and even the cacophony of noise that came with the Market.

With a sigh, Emi crossed her arms over her chest and turned irritably on her heel. The trip to the Market had definitely been short lived and a waste of time. As she'd turned, she almost ended up bumping into her subordinate. The young medic of Omia had been one of the unlucky few that had ended up accompanying her to the Market. Not that the medic was one to complain, after all Mouse had stated before how they'd found a liking to the various stalls and wares that took up shop in the Market. That and Mouse had a knack for exploration and getting lost in the process of that exploration.

She glanced him up and down, assessing him for a moment. Even at a young age, he was one of Omia's favored medics. It was likely thanks to his days as an All-Mother lapdog, having taken part in the Empire's hellish Academy. A fact that often made her feel a bit of pity for him. The kid had had a malfunctioned chip in the past, something that always had a potential to give permanent damage to the host, but he'd had a family, a decent spot in Atlus's society, and now here he was, trudging along in the Market. Forever unable to see his family or friends. That is, unless they both got to see the day that all of Judes became un-chipped.

"Well, waste of time." It was difficult to gauge the sound of her voice, if she was yelling or speaking softly. That and she likely sounded like a robot, habitually enunciating each word so as not to slur. It was one of many downsides to be without her enhancements, but she'd manage. "You need anything from here before we bounce?" She gestured around them, eyebrows raised in question before adding, "'Cause I don't know about you, but I need a drink from the Javelin right about now." As she spoke, she moved past him to retrace where they'd come. Honestly, she probably shouldn't even consider drinking especially when it was still early in the day, but it was one of the few things that would likely cut off her anger's edge. "Just one drink." She spoke her next words aloud unintentionally. Easily referencing her notorious ability to get drunk off a single glass of most of Javelin's alcohol. Well, she could manage a few drinks of beer before losing to her intolerance.

Emi led the way back to where the stalls aligned them on either side before she turned to look for Mouse. Unlike before, she'd taken a gradual pace, and had stopped near a stall of tail fins. The hawker brandished a pair above the mass of customers, their stall bearing a single mask that read Tail accessories and enhancements, 100-300$ Sale.

Mentions: AsterRose 's Javelin
Involved: -ferret-

 

[Maeteris]

Jaeger​

Splash. Drip.

The heavy downpour is unrelenting, like a great gray mist blanketing eastern zone. It doesn’t bother her as she walks through these pot-holled streets, her boots sinking into ankle height puddles. It’s in the best interests of the force that she finds the last terrorist, in extension; it’s in the All-Mother’s interest.

Glaring within her peripherals, the mantra hovers in ethereal light, ‘The All-Mother is watching.’ The foot-soldiers stand taut in the rain, faceless, unreadable.

She blinks, catching droplets of rain in her eyes. When she opens them next, the world is bathed in hues of blue, red and green, splotches of yellow. The rain looks like minuscule orange droplets crashing into the winding deep blue streets. This spectrum was unhelpful, borderline useless during a rain as it clogs the vision with too much interference.

Not to Jaeger.

It highlights humanoids perfectly, warm things they are, like walking red thumbs. She’s learnt to differentiate the globs of colors according to their emotions; warm in the nether meant arousal, a heated torso meant anxiousness, or exertion. In short, she needn’t interrogate everyone on these streets. Her time is better used by plainly patrolling.