She's also cybernetically enhanced, with combat experience, command experience and liberated a dreadnought. She's no damsel in distress.
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The Broken Gates
- Thread starter Macavity116
- Start date
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Author's notes:
This chapter contains excerpts from the essay Artificial Intelligence and Imagery: A Personal Journey by @Chac1. You can read the full essay at The SolAARium.
I realize this story is complex and can be hard to follow, so I've got a little bit of good news for you: This chapter contains the final identification of a member of Team Malum. As of this point, all members of that side have now been identified.
This means the roster of "Fictional characters who appeared in the real world" is nearly complete. There is only one unidentified character left, and then we will have our full cast for the rest of the story!
The Broken Gates
Episode Eight: We’re just having a little war out here. How are you?
Akira Robinson
Creation
The SolAARium, Paradox Interactive Forums
Akira Robinson and Whetu Kealoha kept to the shadows as they moved through the SolAARium. It was very unlike the bAAR in Detroit. This place was structured more like an academic center, complete with classrooms and an auditorium.
The place was very crowded, and each woman was using her own Psionic technique to remain hidden. Akira was using Psionic Manipulation, making herself appear different to anyone who looked at her. Whetu continued using Psionic Stealth to make herself undetectable. (to the naked eye)
Whetu and Akira followed a small crowd of people into an auditorium, slipping inside just before the doors closed. An American man was standing on the stage, flanked by several pieces of artwork displayed on tripod easels. While the two Creations infiltrated the crowd, the American commenced his lecture.
“…As someone who manages an AAR inspired by graphic novels, it is essential for me to approach the use of AI in an ethical way. I don’t have a budget to pay artists, as some have done, even if it is a relatively small amount, or to pay for software licenses. But this is not about software. It’s about solutions for creating images.”
Akira took up a spot by the door. She was going to be Whetu’s escape route. The young Partogan slipped down to the front of the auditorium, unseen, and then began working her way back to the rear. As she moved, Whetu closely examined each of the people attending the lecture. Whetu telepathically probed everyone in the front of the auditorium, while Akira probed everyone in the back.
After about fifteen minutes, Whetu regrouped with Akira and both women quietly departed. Back out in the hallway, Whetu shook her head.
“No sign of HistoryDude or FamilyTreeEnthusiast.” She said. “They’re not here.”
“I didn’t see them either.” Akira reported. “We’ll just have to skip that part of the plan if we can’t find them quickly.”
“But those two have analyzed Blake’s work more closely than anyone else.” Whetu protested. “Who else would have… oh, what did you call it… ‘world-building level knowledge’ about Blake’s stories? We cannot replace him with any random writer.”
“We’ll have to go with Chosenpai… Marisol.” Akira admitted. “We can’t afford to waste time on a wild goose chase.”
“I know Malum would prefer one of those two… would he take Marisol instead of HistoryDude?” Whetu said.
“I could try to convince him.” Akira replied. “It would be easier if Tenna agrees to help. Let me call her.”
Akira and Whetu moved to a dark corner of the SolAARium and hid behind a statue of Lord Durham. Akira produced a cell phone and dialed the contact labelled “Tenna Annora.”
At once, a noisy racket came out of the speaker, followed by heavy breathing.
“What the hell is going on over there?” Akira hissed into the phone.
“Oh, nothing.” Tenna replied in a high-pitched voice. “We’re just having a little war out here. How are you?”
…
Marisol
Creator
Wayne County, Michigan
Marisol, Blake, and J.D. were pushed aside as Cali and her SWAT team dismounted from the armored van.
“Stay here and keep your heads down!” Cali ordered.
“Like hell!” Blake said as soon as she was gone.
Marisol could hear the sounds of laser and plasma weapons fire, along with an unfamiliar rushing sound that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She jumped out of the van.
“You coming?” She asked Blake.
The two writers scrambled away from the Paradox convoy, following the sounds of screaming and gunfire through the dense urban environment. Rounding a corner, they found the GM Renaissance center, illuminated by the orange glow of fire.
Marisol felt Blake’s hand on her shoulder before she was violently tossed through the door of a nearby restaurant.
“GET DOWN!” Was all Blake had time to yell before the chatter of gunfire filled the air.
Patrons screamed as the windows were shattered. Laser bolts sailed over people’s heads and smashed dozens of liquor bottles behind the counter. The noise and heat and chaos of the scene overwhelmed Marisol… and her mental state changed.
Suddenly… she was standing with one foot in the present and one foot in the past…
Marisol could see the chaos unfolding around her, but she could only hear a dark moment from her childhood.
It happened on January 25th, 2011. Marisol was eleven years old. Just fifty yards down the street from where Marisol was playing, terrorists set off a bomb, blasting a city bus into bits.
Marisol could clearly remember the sound of metal debris falling from the sky. The sound of car alarms. The sound of people screaming and running away. The sound of her younger sister starting to cry. The sound was the only part of that day she could remember: Little Mariposa asking her big sister what to do.
“I don’t know what we’re supposed to do, but we can’t stay here.”
Marisol’s words from the past propelled her into motion in the present. She was in deep, way over her head… but Marisol knew that staying idle, waiting for something to happen, was the wrong answer.
Marisol pulled herself back into the moment and ran out of the damaged restaurant. She followed the sounds of angry yelling around a corner and found an incredible scene.
Some kind of standoff was happening on Jefferson Avenue, between the Renaissance Center and the Tunnel to Canada. Four of Blake’s characters were standing shoulder-to-shoulder, aiming their weapons at the Paradox SWAT team, who was quickly moving to surround them.
“Get the Anti-Psionic Stun Bombs ready!” one of the men shouted.
Sebakhira was stalking the perimeter, teeth bared and a Psionic aura enveloping her. Trig stood in front of Blake, shielding the author with both his body and a Telekinetic field. Kanti was perched atop a SWAT vehicle, watching the proceedings. Aisling (in her wolf form) watched as a pair of SWAT operators handcuffed Kailani. Varian had grabbed a fallen pistol and was keeping ahold of Mina, who was shouting loudly at one of the enemies.
Kiri Ranginui, Dak J’Bassim, and Moka J’Bassim were all looking as though they were taken by surprise. They called out from behind the safety of Tenna’s Telekinetic shield.
“Mina! Are you hurt? What did they do to you?” Kiri yelled.
“Cali!? Why are you helping them?” Moka asked.
“Why are you fighting us!?” Cali retorted; her voice filled with equal parts shock and confusion.
Marisol felt her heart plunge into her stomach. Cali, Moka, and Dak were all protagonists from the same story. Dak was Cali’s love interest, and Moka was Dak’s younger sister.
“We came here to rescue you!” Dak replied, pointing at Cali. “We heard you were being held hostage by the author!”
“We wanted to bring all of our allies, but the Gate’s not ready yet.” Moka added.
“I’m not the one who needs rescuing.” Cali said. “It’s Blake we need to protect right now.”
Cali gestured at Blake. Trig side-stepped to hide him from view again. Across the street, Tenna spotted Trig and her expression darkened. Just like Cali, Moka, and Dak, these two knew each other.
“Really, Trig?” Tenna cried out. “After everything we’ve been through together you’re going to defend him?”
“I know what Malum’s gonna do after he kills Blake, and I want no part of that!” Trig responded.
Out of the corner of her eye, Marisol saw Cali’s eyes go wide. Cali barked an order to her men.
“Get that kid someplace safe!” Cali said, pointing at Trig. “We can’t risk anything happening to him.”
Kiri, Moka, and Dak raised their weapons and opened fire, taking aim at Trig himself. Trig used Psionics to deflect the incoming blasts before retaliating with Soulfire. Amidst the cyclone of blue fire, two of the SWAT operators hurled a pair of modified flashbangs into the fray.
Marisol was briefly dazed by two cracks of thunder, but her vision and hearing returned after a moment. However, all of the Gifted characters were down for the count. Kanti, Trig, Aisling, Sebakhira, and Tenna were all writhing in agony, clutching at their eyes. The Soulfire tornado faded away, and a moment later, Moka J’Bassim made her move.
With Trig incapacitated, Blake was suddenly exposed, twenty feet of open road between himself and Moka. With nowhere to hide, Blake let out a yell and started running towards Moka. She raised her Plasma Pistol, got one finger on the trigger…
And then Marisol tackled her.
Both women collapsed to the ground, with Blake reaching them a moment later. Marisol, Blake, and Moka wrestled violently on the pavement, six hands grabbing and grasping for the weapon. Desperate, almost panicking, Marisol fumbled around, found Moka’s face, and jammed one of her fingers into Moka’s eye. Moka screamed and flailed, finally letting go of her weapon and curling up defensively. Blake seized Moka’s weapon and then helped Marisol pin her down, his knee pressing into Moka’s shoulders.
“Look out!” a voice yelled.
Looking up, Marisol realized a battle was playing out around her. Both sides had been deprived of Psionics, so now Cali’s SWAT team was pushing in to detain Tenna, Kiri, Dak, and Moka. While Moka’s three allies were resisting as best they could, something else was happening… something alarming.
As if possessed by a demon, the Detroit River was rearing up as though it was a predatory cat about to pounce. A police helicopter banked sharply and moved to the Canadian side to avoid being hit by the rising cascade. Untold millions of gallons of water rose into the air, suspended by some invisible force.
“WHAT IN GOD’S NAME IS HAPPENING!?” A bystander screamed.
Then, with a great roar, the Detroit River lurched forward and fell onto the city. The deluge quickly submerged Jefferson Street and the surrounding area. Marisol grabbed Blake, trying to hold on, but she was pulled away by the rushing torrent. She lost all of her bearings until she crashed into something rock-solid. Moments later, the inland tsunami subsided. Most of the water flowed back into the riverbed while the rest drained into the Tunnel to Canada. The river retreated into its place, leaving behind a flooded and stunned city.
Coughing, spluttering, and blinking her eyes, Marisol tried to figure out what just happened. She had crashed into the side of a building; and now she was pinned between the marble wall and a fallen tree.
Spraying water as it went, an open-top convertible drove onto the scene. A red-haired woman dressed up in a stereotypical witch’s costume (complete with pointed hat) brought the car to a stop and yelled in an Irish accent:
“Ranginui! Grab Annora and the others! Let’s go!”
Kiri Ranginui staggered to his feet. Moka, Dak, and Tenna had all been swept clear of the SWAT team by the deluge, and ran toward the convertible from all directions. Dak had to hold Tenna’s hand. She was still blind.
Cali clambered to her feet and yelled:
“They’re escaping! Shoot the tires! Shoot the engine!”
A few of the SWAT operators grabbed for their weapons, but the witch lifted her arm, holding a metal rod above her head. A heavy rainstorm seemed to materialize out of nowhere, disorienting the troopers just long enough for the convertible, now fully loaded with enemies, to make its escape. Kiri, Moka, Dak, Tenna, and their unnamed rescuer vanished from view as the convertible sped off into the rainstorm.
Marisol extricated herself from the fallen tree and started making her way back over to the spot where everything had gone haywire. As soon as Marisol spotted Blake, she yelled at him:
“Alright… I am so fucking lost. What the fuck was all that!?”
Dripping from head to toe, Blake looked at the Plasma Pistol he took from Moka and then angrily threw it on the ground.
“That was the Water Witch.” Blake said. “Uisce. She’s from a short story I wrote for an online contest.”
Blake kicked the pistol into a puddle, and then angrily yelled at the sky:
“REALLY MALUM!? You’re just gonna take people from fucking short stories now? Are you running out of ideas or something?”
Then Blake staggered and sat down on a bench.
“This is too much.” Blake said. “I need a break.”
Marisol sat down next to him.
“Me too.” She sighed.
At that moment, both Marisol and Blake felt a buzzing sensation in their pockets. Their cell phones were ringing. Simultaneously, and sharing an eye roll, they checked to see who was calling.
Blake’s caller ID said: SFC Spaniola
Marisol’s caller ID said: Asiana Dispatch
“Work.” They both grumbled.
This chapter contains excerpts from the essay Artificial Intelligence and Imagery: A Personal Journey by @Chac1. You can read the full essay at The SolAARium.
I realize this story is complex and can be hard to follow, so I've got a little bit of good news for you: This chapter contains the final identification of a member of Team Malum. As of this point, all members of that side have now been identified.
This means the roster of "Fictional characters who appeared in the real world" is nearly complete. There is only one unidentified character left, and then we will have our full cast for the rest of the story!
Team Marisol | Team Malum |
Sebakhira Faith in Chaos | Akira Robinson The Stormbreakers |
Varian/Victoria Robinson The Last Heroes | Kiri Ranginui A Coldwar Affair |
Mina Soban-Re A Coldwar Affair | Whetu Kealoha The Legend of Whetu Kealoha |
Cali D'Kara Year of Hell | Dak J'Bassim Year of Hell |
Trig Shepminter Song of the Solitaire | Moka J'Bassim Year of Hell |
Aisling Last Days of the Emerald Isle | Tenna Annora Song of the Solitaire |
Kanti Divakar The Stormbreakers | Cassandra Espinosa A Coldwar Affair |
<Unmet Character> <Unknown story> | Kailani Kalili The Stormbreakers |
| Uisce 2023 Guess the Author Entry |
The Broken Gates
Episode Eight: We’re just having a little war out here. How are you?
Akira Robinson
Creation
The SolAARium, Paradox Interactive Forums
Akira Robinson and Whetu Kealoha kept to the shadows as they moved through the SolAARium. It was very unlike the bAAR in Detroit. This place was structured more like an academic center, complete with classrooms and an auditorium.
The place was very crowded, and each woman was using her own Psionic technique to remain hidden. Akira was using Psionic Manipulation, making herself appear different to anyone who looked at her. Whetu continued using Psionic Stealth to make herself undetectable. (to the naked eye)
Whetu and Akira followed a small crowd of people into an auditorium, slipping inside just before the doors closed. An American man was standing on the stage, flanked by several pieces of artwork displayed on tripod easels. While the two Creations infiltrated the crowd, the American commenced his lecture.
“…As someone who manages an AAR inspired by graphic novels, it is essential for me to approach the use of AI in an ethical way. I don’t have a budget to pay artists, as some have done, even if it is a relatively small amount, or to pay for software licenses. But this is not about software. It’s about solutions for creating images.”
Akira took up a spot by the door. She was going to be Whetu’s escape route. The young Partogan slipped down to the front of the auditorium, unseen, and then began working her way back to the rear. As she moved, Whetu closely examined each of the people attending the lecture. Whetu telepathically probed everyone in the front of the auditorium, while Akira probed everyone in the back.
After about fifteen minutes, Whetu regrouped with Akira and both women quietly departed. Back out in the hallway, Whetu shook her head.
“No sign of HistoryDude or FamilyTreeEnthusiast.” She said. “They’re not here.”
“I didn’t see them either.” Akira reported. “We’ll just have to skip that part of the plan if we can’t find them quickly.”
“But those two have analyzed Blake’s work more closely than anyone else.” Whetu protested. “Who else would have… oh, what did you call it… ‘world-building level knowledge’ about Blake’s stories? We cannot replace him with any random writer.”
“We’ll have to go with Chosenpai… Marisol.” Akira admitted. “We can’t afford to waste time on a wild goose chase.”
“I know Malum would prefer one of those two… would he take Marisol instead of HistoryDude?” Whetu said.
“I could try to convince him.” Akira replied. “It would be easier if Tenna agrees to help. Let me call her.”
Akira and Whetu moved to a dark corner of the SolAARium and hid behind a statue of Lord Durham. Akira produced a cell phone and dialed the contact labelled “Tenna Annora.”
At once, a noisy racket came out of the speaker, followed by heavy breathing.
“What the hell is going on over there?” Akira hissed into the phone.
“Oh, nothing.” Tenna replied in a high-pitched voice. “We’re just having a little war out here. How are you?”
…
Marisol
Creator
Wayne County, Michigan
Marisol, Blake, and J.D. were pushed aside as Cali and her SWAT team dismounted from the armored van.
“Stay here and keep your heads down!” Cali ordered.
“Like hell!” Blake said as soon as she was gone.
Marisol could hear the sounds of laser and plasma weapons fire, along with an unfamiliar rushing sound that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She jumped out of the van.
“You coming?” She asked Blake.
The two writers scrambled away from the Paradox convoy, following the sounds of screaming and gunfire through the dense urban environment. Rounding a corner, they found the GM Renaissance center, illuminated by the orange glow of fire.
Marisol felt Blake’s hand on her shoulder before she was violently tossed through the door of a nearby restaurant.
“GET DOWN!” Was all Blake had time to yell before the chatter of gunfire filled the air.
Patrons screamed as the windows were shattered. Laser bolts sailed over people’s heads and smashed dozens of liquor bottles behind the counter. The noise and heat and chaos of the scene overwhelmed Marisol… and her mental state changed.
Suddenly… she was standing with one foot in the present and one foot in the past…
Marisol could see the chaos unfolding around her, but she could only hear a dark moment from her childhood.
It happened on January 25th, 2011. Marisol was eleven years old. Just fifty yards down the street from where Marisol was playing, terrorists set off a bomb, blasting a city bus into bits.
Marisol could clearly remember the sound of metal debris falling from the sky. The sound of car alarms. The sound of people screaming and running away. The sound of her younger sister starting to cry. The sound was the only part of that day she could remember: Little Mariposa asking her big sister what to do.
“I don’t know what we’re supposed to do, but we can’t stay here.”
Marisol’s words from the past propelled her into motion in the present. She was in deep, way over her head… but Marisol knew that staying idle, waiting for something to happen, was the wrong answer.
Marisol pulled herself back into the moment and ran out of the damaged restaurant. She followed the sounds of angry yelling around a corner and found an incredible scene.
Some kind of standoff was happening on Jefferson Avenue, between the Renaissance Center and the Tunnel to Canada. Four of Blake’s characters were standing shoulder-to-shoulder, aiming their weapons at the Paradox SWAT team, who was quickly moving to surround them.
“Get the Anti-Psionic Stun Bombs ready!” one of the men shouted.
Sebakhira was stalking the perimeter, teeth bared and a Psionic aura enveloping her. Trig stood in front of Blake, shielding the author with both his body and a Telekinetic field. Kanti was perched atop a SWAT vehicle, watching the proceedings. Aisling (in her wolf form) watched as a pair of SWAT operators handcuffed Kailani. Varian had grabbed a fallen pistol and was keeping ahold of Mina, who was shouting loudly at one of the enemies.
Kiri Ranginui, Dak J’Bassim, and Moka J’Bassim were all looking as though they were taken by surprise. They called out from behind the safety of Tenna’s Telekinetic shield.
“Mina! Are you hurt? What did they do to you?” Kiri yelled.
“Cali!? Why are you helping them?” Moka asked.
“Why are you fighting us!?” Cali retorted; her voice filled with equal parts shock and confusion.
Marisol felt her heart plunge into her stomach. Cali, Moka, and Dak were all protagonists from the same story. Dak was Cali’s love interest, and Moka was Dak’s younger sister.
“We came here to rescue you!” Dak replied, pointing at Cali. “We heard you were being held hostage by the author!”
“We wanted to bring all of our allies, but the Gate’s not ready yet.” Moka added.
“I’m not the one who needs rescuing.” Cali said. “It’s Blake we need to protect right now.”
Cali gestured at Blake. Trig side-stepped to hide him from view again. Across the street, Tenna spotted Trig and her expression darkened. Just like Cali, Moka, and Dak, these two knew each other.
“Really, Trig?” Tenna cried out. “After everything we’ve been through together you’re going to defend him?”
“I know what Malum’s gonna do after he kills Blake, and I want no part of that!” Trig responded.
Out of the corner of her eye, Marisol saw Cali’s eyes go wide. Cali barked an order to her men.
“Get that kid someplace safe!” Cali said, pointing at Trig. “We can’t risk anything happening to him.”
Kiri, Moka, and Dak raised their weapons and opened fire, taking aim at Trig himself. Trig used Psionics to deflect the incoming blasts before retaliating with Soulfire. Amidst the cyclone of blue fire, two of the SWAT operators hurled a pair of modified flashbangs into the fray.
Marisol was briefly dazed by two cracks of thunder, but her vision and hearing returned after a moment. However, all of the Gifted characters were down for the count. Kanti, Trig, Aisling, Sebakhira, and Tenna were all writhing in agony, clutching at their eyes. The Soulfire tornado faded away, and a moment later, Moka J’Bassim made her move.
With Trig incapacitated, Blake was suddenly exposed, twenty feet of open road between himself and Moka. With nowhere to hide, Blake let out a yell and started running towards Moka. She raised her Plasma Pistol, got one finger on the trigger…
And then Marisol tackled her.
Both women collapsed to the ground, with Blake reaching them a moment later. Marisol, Blake, and Moka wrestled violently on the pavement, six hands grabbing and grasping for the weapon. Desperate, almost panicking, Marisol fumbled around, found Moka’s face, and jammed one of her fingers into Moka’s eye. Moka screamed and flailed, finally letting go of her weapon and curling up defensively. Blake seized Moka’s weapon and then helped Marisol pin her down, his knee pressing into Moka’s shoulders.
“Look out!” a voice yelled.
Looking up, Marisol realized a battle was playing out around her. Both sides had been deprived of Psionics, so now Cali’s SWAT team was pushing in to detain Tenna, Kiri, Dak, and Moka. While Moka’s three allies were resisting as best they could, something else was happening… something alarming.
As if possessed by a demon, the Detroit River was rearing up as though it was a predatory cat about to pounce. A police helicopter banked sharply and moved to the Canadian side to avoid being hit by the rising cascade. Untold millions of gallons of water rose into the air, suspended by some invisible force.
“WHAT IN GOD’S NAME IS HAPPENING!?” A bystander screamed.
Then, with a great roar, the Detroit River lurched forward and fell onto the city. The deluge quickly submerged Jefferson Street and the surrounding area. Marisol grabbed Blake, trying to hold on, but she was pulled away by the rushing torrent. She lost all of her bearings until she crashed into something rock-solid. Moments later, the inland tsunami subsided. Most of the water flowed back into the riverbed while the rest drained into the Tunnel to Canada. The river retreated into its place, leaving behind a flooded and stunned city.
Coughing, spluttering, and blinking her eyes, Marisol tried to figure out what just happened. She had crashed into the side of a building; and now she was pinned between the marble wall and a fallen tree.
Spraying water as it went, an open-top convertible drove onto the scene. A red-haired woman dressed up in a stereotypical witch’s costume (complete with pointed hat) brought the car to a stop and yelled in an Irish accent:
“Ranginui! Grab Annora and the others! Let’s go!”
Kiri Ranginui staggered to his feet. Moka, Dak, and Tenna had all been swept clear of the SWAT team by the deluge, and ran toward the convertible from all directions. Dak had to hold Tenna’s hand. She was still blind.
Cali clambered to her feet and yelled:
“They’re escaping! Shoot the tires! Shoot the engine!”
A few of the SWAT operators grabbed for their weapons, but the witch lifted her arm, holding a metal rod above her head. A heavy rainstorm seemed to materialize out of nowhere, disorienting the troopers just long enough for the convertible, now fully loaded with enemies, to make its escape. Kiri, Moka, Dak, Tenna, and their unnamed rescuer vanished from view as the convertible sped off into the rainstorm.
Marisol extricated herself from the fallen tree and started making her way back over to the spot where everything had gone haywire. As soon as Marisol spotted Blake, she yelled at him:
“Alright… I am so fucking lost. What the fuck was all that!?”
Dripping from head to toe, Blake looked at the Plasma Pistol he took from Moka and then angrily threw it on the ground.
“That was the Water Witch.” Blake said. “Uisce. She’s from a short story I wrote for an online contest.”
Blake kicked the pistol into a puddle, and then angrily yelled at the sky:
“REALLY MALUM!? You’re just gonna take people from fucking short stories now? Are you running out of ideas or something?”
Then Blake staggered and sat down on a bench.
“This is too much.” Blake said. “I need a break.”
Marisol sat down next to him.
“Me too.” She sighed.
At that moment, both Marisol and Blake felt a buzzing sensation in their pockets. Their cell phones were ringing. Simultaneously, and sharing an eye roll, they checked to see who was calling.
Blake’s caller ID said: SFC Spaniola
Marisol’s caller ID said: Asiana Dispatch
“Work.” They both grumbled.
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Wonderful! Who saw the Detroit River tsunami coming? Plus a witch! This story has everything happening at once... more or less... well you know the reference.
Thanks for the shout out. Glad Team Malum found my lecture to be too boring.
Thanks for the shout out. Glad Team Malum found my lecture to be too boring.
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Akira Robinson was involved. Should we be surprised?
Cool trivia: this is actually the second time a superpowered combatant has employed a tsunami in battle. All the way back in The Stormbreakers, Jericho tried to stop her battle with Akira Robinson by dropping the Tsushima Strait on Akira's head. It was a mess.
Uisce the Water Witch is one of two "very odd" characters set to appear in the real world during this story, who are very far outside of what I normally write. Uisce is a very barebones character from my "Guess the Writer" entry last year. She barely has a personality and no defined appearance aside from her costume and dowsing rod. Heck, I never even laid down how old Uisce is!
The other "odd character" is the final member of Team Marisol and she's different for a vastly different reason: I didn't make her. She's a premade character from a videogame who was given a big role in one of my fanfics... and in a few chapters' time you'll get to meet her.
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I think work is the least of Blake and Marisol's worries right now. They both nearly died and are on the enemy's number-one hit list.
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I think work is the least of Blake and Marisol's worries right now. They both nearly died and are on the enemy's number-one hit list.
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Not surprised as such, but well... After previous events surrounding someone stiching Dak and Moka up in a web of lies, you'd think they had more sense. GTS and YOH both had them being deceived by villians, so lying to them is staggeringly un-self aware.
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Ok, the plan is that the Beta readers, Marisol and @Chac1, take over @Macavity116's disturbed universe and give the protagonists with bad press, new updated heroic images. Thanks
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I wonder if Malum has noticed the lack of character growth on Dak and Moka's part and is exploiting it? You'd think they'd be harder to deceive the further into the plot they are.
You're close. Each member of Team Malum has some highly specific part of their own story they want to change, but Malum himself has something grander in mind... once he stops sending minions into the real world and actually bothers to show up.
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To do that, he needs a friendly (or at least willing & able) Creator, access to Macavity116's account on the PDX forums, and either a Vultaum Reality Perforator or the Broken Gates. (the anomalous structures last seen in Song of the Solitaire)
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So you could stop him by locking your account behind a randomly generated password and then resetting cookies to log yourself out and stop an automatic login?
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Funnily enough, if you'll allow for a brief dropping of character, this is exactly what I have to do whenever I want to log into the @Cali D'Kara account.
That's why she appears offline nearly 24/7.- 1
So you'd also have to do that with Cali's account too. But, at least then Malum and minions can't reshape their stories.
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Housekeeping notes: It has come to my attention that using multiple accounts, even if just for narrative purposes, runs counter to the PDX Forum rules. For obvious reasons, I will sunset the “Cali D’Kara” account after this chapter is posted. Fortunately, Cali has been fully re-integrated into the story at this point, eliminating the need for the aforementioned account moving forward. (I've already planned out how her role in this story will end, and yes: The account has been made redundant and can be safely done away with)
For the readers, here is an extra chapter to apologize for the trouble and using minor spoilers to explain the above housekeeping note.
The Broken Gates
Episode Nine: You’re the god of my world. There’s a lot I want to say to you.
Marisol
Creator
Wayne County, Michigan
Marisol took a moment to squeeze some water out of her hair and clean her glasses, then answered the phone.
“Reyes speaking.”
A man’s voice replied. He was speaking in Tagalog, a non-standardized version of the Filipino language frequently used in Metro Manila. Marisol, who normally spoke Filipino, strained her ears to keep up.
“Where are you?” The voice said. “Your manager and crew are all out trying to find you. There’s some kind of crisis going on near your location and the airline is making arrangements to get everyone back to Manila as fast as possible.”
“I’m in Detroit.” Marisol said.
She heard the airline employee gasp.
“Uh… stay where you are. We’ll see if we can get someone down there to pick you up.” The man replied. “Where are you? Are you in a shelter? We all saw that mess on the news.”
“Hold on.” Marisol replied. “I’ll get an address.”
Then Marisol ran through the waterlogged streets to grab Cali’s shoulder. Cali was trying to direct her team amidst the chaos of the last few minutes, but most of the men and women were too dazed to do more than look around.
“Is there someplace we can go?” Marisol asked. “Off the street?”
Cali conferred with her teammates, then gave orders:
“Everyone on your feet! We’re… we’re gonna crash with some friends.”
…
Marisol, Sebakhira, Kanti, Varian, Mina, Trig, Aisling, Blake, and J.D. all staggered to their feet and began following Cali and her SWAT team through the street, moving away from the Detroit River and deeper into the city. Blake was still on the phone with his own boss.
“Yes, Sergeant. I know… about ninety minutes, depending on traffic. I’ll, uh… I need the full twenty-four hours’ notice, Sergeant. I’ll be there.”
Blake hung up.
“Lansing is losing their damn mind.” Blake said. “The Governor might declare a state of disaster for Detroit, and the State Police are looking into all of our shenanigans in Shiatown and Owosso. They’re saying I have to report to the armory in the next twenty-four hours, and there’s a State Trooper there waiting to interview me.”
Cali came to a stop in front of a three-story brick building. The words Whiskey in the jAAR were visible on the façade.
“Well, you’re still under my protective custody for now.” Cali told Blake. “Everyone else… is everyone okay? Anyone hurt?”
“I almost drowned!” Mina shouted from the back. “I’m still handcuffed back here! How was I supposed to survive whatever the hell that was!?”
“Stop whining.” Blake retorted. “I grabbed you and pulled you out of the water, didn’t I? Is that all you’ve got to say?”
“You’re the god of my world.” Mina spat. “There’s a lot I want to say to you.”
Cali rolled her eyes and approached a security gate in front of the building. She wrapped her knuckles on it, then stood back. A moment later, the door opened from the inside. A bearded man peered out, looked at the soggy group and said:
“We’re closed due to water damage. Come back when the repair work is done.”
Cali reached into one of her vest pockets and produced an ID card. Next to her face and name was the image of a platypus fossil, the official logo of Paradox Interactive. The bearded man raised an eyebrow, then did a double-take, looking hard at Cali’s pointed ears.
“Oh, snap. You’re that elf girl I heard LD talking about. Actually… I’m glad you brought a Go-Team. Our silent alarm has been going off for hours and one of the employees isn’t answering her phone. Rest of the staff is getting worried.”
“I’m here on Paradox business, and everyone you see here is with me.” Cali replied. “We need to take some time to regroup. Does Paradox still own the apartments on the second floor?”
“Yeah.”
“Any of them vacant?”
“Room 214 is open. So is 228 and 229.”
Cali rounded on the large group of SWAT specialists, Creators, and Creations.
“Males in 214. Females in 229. I want C2 set up in 228. Get our stuff off any trucks that weren’t washed into the fucking river.”
Blake jabbed his thumb at the bAAR.
“I gotta talk to some folks.” He said.
“Not without an armed escort, you’re not.” Cali shot back.
“And Marisol’s coming with me.” Blake added.
“Fine, then I’m coming too.” Cali conceded.
Behind her, Marisol could have sworn she heard Varian let out a girlish giggle. She (or he) found this exchange amusing.
“I’ve seen people in my world have conversations just like that.” Varian said to Trig. “Or… dialogue, I guess I should say. Didn’t realize all of Blake’s characters were just talking with his voice.”
“My voice doesn’t sound like the author.” Kanti ruffled her feathers in an indignant way.
“Now that I think about it… it seems like all of us female characters speak in Blake’s voice, but in a higher pitch.” Sebakhira mused. “Fascinating.”
“Martyrs of Kharak! That makes me wanna kill him more.” Mina cursed.
Marisol and Blake did their best to ignore these comments while they were escorted into the bAAR by Cali. The rest of the Creations were bundled toward a second door that led to the upstairs apartments. Just before Marisol stepped through the heavy oaken door and into the bAAR, a small housecat brushed against her leg. Looking down, Marisol realized this fluffy white cat had red eyes that unmistakably belonged to someone she knew.
Marisol knelt down, scooped up Aisling, and carried her into the bAAR.
…
Inside, a mixture of patrons and staff were attempting to clean up the mess left behind by the deluge. The raging torrent had swept through the bAAR, saturating the place in ankle-deep water during the late-night rush. Blake started looking around the place as though he were a detective searching for clues, and he gestured for Marisol to follow. Meanwhile, the bearded man tried to talk to Cali.
“So, like I was saying… about three or four hours before all this flooding happened, someone set off the silent alarms. Unauthorized access to both the Inkwell and SolAARium.”
“Okay, and what did you say about a missing employee?”
Meanwhile, Blake and Marisol went behind the counter. He asked a few of the staff if they could tell him where “Erin Bowie” was… but no one knew the answer. Then he pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. No answer, the call went directly to voicemail.
Blake turned to Marisol.
“Have you ever worked an hourly job?” Blake asked.
“Sure, when I was younger I had a gig at the hotel where Mariposa works now.” Marisol said. “You need me to check the timecards? Who are we looking for?”
“You’re quick. That’s awesome.” Blake said with a smile.
He reached up to punch clock and took down a large envelope of time cards from the wall next to it. He split the stack in half and gave one half to Marisol. (Aisling curled up around Marisol’s neck and shoulders like a fluffy scarf)
“We’re looking for a girl named ‘Erin Bowie.’ She’s not supposed to be here.” Blake explained. “When things popped off, I told her to hide, but it looks like she might have come back here at some point.”
At that moment, Cali slammed her fist on the bar top, causing Marisol and Blake to jump.
“ANOTHER ONE!? HOW MANY CREATIONS DID YOU BRING INTO THE REAL WORLD!?” Cali screamed at Blake. “What book is Erin from and when the hell did you bring her here!?”
Blake raised his hands.
“In my defense, Erin was the first one ever to cross over… and she was never meant to be more than an Easter Egg. Things have kinda spiraled out of control since then.”
One of the SWAT operators tapped Cali’s shoulder and pointed to a nearby patron: an American man who was mourning the watery destruction of his lecture notes and complaining about how he was going to be late for an appointment in the SolAARium.
“That guy has seen her. Just a few days ago, actually.” The operator said.
Blake glanced in the direction the man was pointing and then called out:
“Chac! You saw Erin? Where? When?”
Just before Blake started to walk away, he leaned in close to Marisol and whispered:
“Inkwell. Check to see if anyone’s messed with my stuff. Yours as well.”
Marisol knew what the Inkwell was, but had never gone there. She knew Blake was mistaken in his belief that she had an entry here, but there was no time to correct him. Instead, Blake went off to speak to the patron known as Chac and Marisol moved across the bAAR to the Inkwell, where an old man was muttering angrily to himself about having to repair and reorganize the Inkwell.
Sloshing through half an inch of standing water, Marisol allowed Aisling to jump onto one of the bookshelves. The cat peered around in all directions, its eyes wide.
“I bet you’ve never seen so many books before, huh?” Marisol said to Aisling. “It’s okay… I know what we’re looking for.”
Marisol ran her fingers along the shelves. She had been a fan of Blake’s for about a year before becoming his Beta Reader. She had not memorized the titles of all his works, but she knew most of them and quickly spotted Blake’s entry in the Inkwell. She tapped each of Blake’s previous books, reading their names aloud:
“After Everything, Faith in Chaos, DosiAARs, My Sistership, Childhood Memory, The Stormbreakers, Legend of Whetu Kealoha, Crossroads of Past and Future… uh… what?”
Marisol paused. Something was not right.
She counted the books. Then counted them again. She tried to recite the names of Blake’s books from memory, then looked again.
A moment later, Marisol was running back toward Blake, panting from the rising fear in her throat.
“Blake!” She gasped.
Blake turned away from Chac, who saw the look of alarm on Marisol’s face and instinctively took a step back.
“Two of your books are gone from the Inkwell!” Marisol said. “My Father’s War and Finding Love Under the Winter Star!”
…
Akira Robinson
Creation
The SolAARium, Paradox Interactive Forums
Whetu and Akira paced in the shadows, listening to Akira’s cell phone as Tenna delivered her report.
“I can’t explain how, but whatever Psionic technique Malum used to… awaken us to the truth… it just didn’t work on Kailani. Probably because she was already insane.”
“What about Varian and Mina?” Akira replied in a soft voice. “Have they really turned?”
“Mina? Definitely not. She’s probably being held prisoner.” Tenna replied. “Varian though? Come on… you were there when he or she or whatever they are got pulled out of the Gate. Varian’s got a strong natural resistance to Psionics.”
“Willpower.” Akira corrected her. “We call it willpower in my world.”
“Whatever.” Tenna replied. “Look, Varian’s definitely trying to shake it off. Not sure if they managed to do it, but they’re trying. Tell Malum the next Creation he pulls better be a pushover, cause this one was hell.”
Akira said:
“Fine then. I’ve got someone in mind anyway… someone who might incense the rest of Blake’s little group and turn them against him. Maybe even provoke one of them into doing the job for us…”
Akira shut off her radio and turned to Whetu.
“We’re going. Quiet exit out the front, then we’ll go back to the Gate from Stockholm.”
Using their Psionic abilities to slip past a few people in the hallowed halls of the SolAARium, Akira and Whetu began moving toward the front entrance. All of their research and planning and preparation told them that Paradox Headquarters was on the other side of the street from the SolAARium. All they had to do was step through the front doors and the two women would be on the streets of Stockholm.
Just when Akira and Whetu were fifteen feet away from the tall set of double-doors, a shrill robotic voice declared for all to hear:
“Naked girl.”
A sudden, painful silence fell over the SolAARium. Akira and Whetu froze in place, then slowly turned their heads to look around.
The LEGO robot Asimov was rolling through the hall on its little plastic wheels, turning its head to keep one of its sensors aimed directly at Whetu.
“That robot can see you.” Akira hissed.
Out of shock and surprise, both Whetu and Akira broke focus for just a moment, and that was all it took.
Akira’s Psionic disguise fell away.
Whetu became visible to everyone else.
Up and down the hallway, almost fifty men and women paused in their activities to stare. Akira could sense dozens of people staring at Whetu upon realizing she was not fully covered up. Mentally, Akira added this terrible character design to the list of reasons she wanted to kill the author.
A member of Paradox staff was the first to recover from the shock. He raised one shaking hand, pointed at Whetu and shouted:
“Nudity outside of the CK3 AAR forum! Are we blind!? DEPLOY THE MODERATORS!”
“RUN!” Akira screamed. “I’ll get the Return Beacon!”
She and Whetu took off at a dead sprint, making for the double doors. Whetu put one hand out and sent a pulse of Telekinetic energy ahead of her. The double doors crashed open. Whetu and Akira were hit by a blast of cold air, and then they were out.
…
A low cloud ceiling obscured the nearby skyscrapers while the CN Tower lit up with brilliant purple and blue colors. A chill wind swept across the city, bringing the smell of Lake Ontario with it.
Akira was the first one to figure out what was wrong.
“This is not Stockholm!” Akira cursed. “FUCK! This isn’t Stockholm!”
“They’re coming!” Whetu yelled.
Several men were emerging from the SolAARium doors. Whetu put both of her hands to her head and then projected a telepathic attack toward one of them. Instantly, the poor soul began to have a panic attack as his mind was filled with the most nightmarish and traumatizing of images. He fell to his knees, convulsing and hyperventilating. This was enough to distract the others. As they stopped to offer help, Whetu turned to her companion.
Akira had opened her coat and withdrawn a small technological device, shaped like the handle, magazine well, and stock of a rifle. Whetu grabbed onto Akira.
“And you’re sure this wouldn’t have worked inside that building?”
“Very sure.” Akira replied. “But out here? We should be just fine.”
Akira pulled the trigger on the Return Beacon.
In the book Akira comes from, the Return Beacon should have behaved a highly specific way… but things were different now.
A swirling Vortex Portal opened up in front of Akira and Whetu, looking very similar to a Wormhole from Stellaris. It lurched backwards and swallowed both women completely.
Once Akira and Whetu were gone, the Vortex Portal shrank and dissipated away to nothing.
For the readers, here is an extra chapter to apologize for the trouble and using minor spoilers to explain the above housekeeping note.
The Broken Gates
Episode Nine: You’re the god of my world. There’s a lot I want to say to you.
Marisol
Creator
Wayne County, Michigan
Marisol took a moment to squeeze some water out of her hair and clean her glasses, then answered the phone.
“Reyes speaking.”
A man’s voice replied. He was speaking in Tagalog, a non-standardized version of the Filipino language frequently used in Metro Manila. Marisol, who normally spoke Filipino, strained her ears to keep up.
“Where are you?” The voice said. “Your manager and crew are all out trying to find you. There’s some kind of crisis going on near your location and the airline is making arrangements to get everyone back to Manila as fast as possible.”
“I’m in Detroit.” Marisol said.
She heard the airline employee gasp.
“Uh… stay where you are. We’ll see if we can get someone down there to pick you up.” The man replied. “Where are you? Are you in a shelter? We all saw that mess on the news.”
“Hold on.” Marisol replied. “I’ll get an address.”
Then Marisol ran through the waterlogged streets to grab Cali’s shoulder. Cali was trying to direct her team amidst the chaos of the last few minutes, but most of the men and women were too dazed to do more than look around.
“Is there someplace we can go?” Marisol asked. “Off the street?”
Cali conferred with her teammates, then gave orders:
“Everyone on your feet! We’re… we’re gonna crash with some friends.”
…
Marisol, Sebakhira, Kanti, Varian, Mina, Trig, Aisling, Blake, and J.D. all staggered to their feet and began following Cali and her SWAT team through the street, moving away from the Detroit River and deeper into the city. Blake was still on the phone with his own boss.
“Yes, Sergeant. I know… about ninety minutes, depending on traffic. I’ll, uh… I need the full twenty-four hours’ notice, Sergeant. I’ll be there.”
Blake hung up.
“Lansing is losing their damn mind.” Blake said. “The Governor might declare a state of disaster for Detroit, and the State Police are looking into all of our shenanigans in Shiatown and Owosso. They’re saying I have to report to the armory in the next twenty-four hours, and there’s a State Trooper there waiting to interview me.”
Cali came to a stop in front of a three-story brick building. The words Whiskey in the jAAR were visible on the façade.
“Well, you’re still under my protective custody for now.” Cali told Blake. “Everyone else… is everyone okay? Anyone hurt?”
“I almost drowned!” Mina shouted from the back. “I’m still handcuffed back here! How was I supposed to survive whatever the hell that was!?”
“Stop whining.” Blake retorted. “I grabbed you and pulled you out of the water, didn’t I? Is that all you’ve got to say?”
“You’re the god of my world.” Mina spat. “There’s a lot I want to say to you.”
Cali rolled her eyes and approached a security gate in front of the building. She wrapped her knuckles on it, then stood back. A moment later, the door opened from the inside. A bearded man peered out, looked at the soggy group and said:
“We’re closed due to water damage. Come back when the repair work is done.”
Cali reached into one of her vest pockets and produced an ID card. Next to her face and name was the image of a platypus fossil, the official logo of Paradox Interactive. The bearded man raised an eyebrow, then did a double-take, looking hard at Cali’s pointed ears.
“Oh, snap. You’re that elf girl I heard LD talking about. Actually… I’m glad you brought a Go-Team. Our silent alarm has been going off for hours and one of the employees isn’t answering her phone. Rest of the staff is getting worried.”
“I’m here on Paradox business, and everyone you see here is with me.” Cali replied. “We need to take some time to regroup. Does Paradox still own the apartments on the second floor?”
“Yeah.”
“Any of them vacant?”
“Room 214 is open. So is 228 and 229.”
Cali rounded on the large group of SWAT specialists, Creators, and Creations.
“Males in 214. Females in 229. I want C2 set up in 228. Get our stuff off any trucks that weren’t washed into the fucking river.”
Blake jabbed his thumb at the bAAR.
“I gotta talk to some folks.” He said.
“Not without an armed escort, you’re not.” Cali shot back.
“And Marisol’s coming with me.” Blake added.
“Fine, then I’m coming too.” Cali conceded.
Behind her, Marisol could have sworn she heard Varian let out a girlish giggle. She (or he) found this exchange amusing.
“I’ve seen people in my world have conversations just like that.” Varian said to Trig. “Or… dialogue, I guess I should say. Didn’t realize all of Blake’s characters were just talking with his voice.”
“My voice doesn’t sound like the author.” Kanti ruffled her feathers in an indignant way.
“Now that I think about it… it seems like all of us female characters speak in Blake’s voice, but in a higher pitch.” Sebakhira mused. “Fascinating.”
“Martyrs of Kharak! That makes me wanna kill him more.” Mina cursed.
Marisol and Blake did their best to ignore these comments while they were escorted into the bAAR by Cali. The rest of the Creations were bundled toward a second door that led to the upstairs apartments. Just before Marisol stepped through the heavy oaken door and into the bAAR, a small housecat brushed against her leg. Looking down, Marisol realized this fluffy white cat had red eyes that unmistakably belonged to someone she knew.
Marisol knelt down, scooped up Aisling, and carried her into the bAAR.
…
Inside, a mixture of patrons and staff were attempting to clean up the mess left behind by the deluge. The raging torrent had swept through the bAAR, saturating the place in ankle-deep water during the late-night rush. Blake started looking around the place as though he were a detective searching for clues, and he gestured for Marisol to follow. Meanwhile, the bearded man tried to talk to Cali.
“So, like I was saying… about three or four hours before all this flooding happened, someone set off the silent alarms. Unauthorized access to both the Inkwell and SolAARium.”
“Okay, and what did you say about a missing employee?”
Meanwhile, Blake and Marisol went behind the counter. He asked a few of the staff if they could tell him where “Erin Bowie” was… but no one knew the answer. Then he pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. No answer, the call went directly to voicemail.
Blake turned to Marisol.
“Have you ever worked an hourly job?” Blake asked.
“Sure, when I was younger I had a gig at the hotel where Mariposa works now.” Marisol said. “You need me to check the timecards? Who are we looking for?”
“You’re quick. That’s awesome.” Blake said with a smile.
He reached up to punch clock and took down a large envelope of time cards from the wall next to it. He split the stack in half and gave one half to Marisol. (Aisling curled up around Marisol’s neck and shoulders like a fluffy scarf)
“We’re looking for a girl named ‘Erin Bowie.’ She’s not supposed to be here.” Blake explained. “When things popped off, I told her to hide, but it looks like she might have come back here at some point.”
At that moment, Cali slammed her fist on the bar top, causing Marisol and Blake to jump.
“ANOTHER ONE!? HOW MANY CREATIONS DID YOU BRING INTO THE REAL WORLD!?” Cali screamed at Blake. “What book is Erin from and when the hell did you bring her here!?”
Blake raised his hands.
“In my defense, Erin was the first one ever to cross over… and she was never meant to be more than an Easter Egg. Things have kinda spiraled out of control since then.”
One of the SWAT operators tapped Cali’s shoulder and pointed to a nearby patron: an American man who was mourning the watery destruction of his lecture notes and complaining about how he was going to be late for an appointment in the SolAARium.
“That guy has seen her. Just a few days ago, actually.” The operator said.
Blake glanced in the direction the man was pointing and then called out:
“Chac! You saw Erin? Where? When?”
Just before Blake started to walk away, he leaned in close to Marisol and whispered:
“Inkwell. Check to see if anyone’s messed with my stuff. Yours as well.”
Marisol knew what the Inkwell was, but had never gone there. She knew Blake was mistaken in his belief that she had an entry here, but there was no time to correct him. Instead, Blake went off to speak to the patron known as Chac and Marisol moved across the bAAR to the Inkwell, where an old man was muttering angrily to himself about having to repair and reorganize the Inkwell.
Sloshing through half an inch of standing water, Marisol allowed Aisling to jump onto one of the bookshelves. The cat peered around in all directions, its eyes wide.
“I bet you’ve never seen so many books before, huh?” Marisol said to Aisling. “It’s okay… I know what we’re looking for.”
Marisol ran her fingers along the shelves. She had been a fan of Blake’s for about a year before becoming his Beta Reader. She had not memorized the titles of all his works, but she knew most of them and quickly spotted Blake’s entry in the Inkwell. She tapped each of Blake’s previous books, reading their names aloud:
“After Everything, Faith in Chaos, DosiAARs, My Sistership, Childhood Memory, The Stormbreakers, Legend of Whetu Kealoha, Crossroads of Past and Future… uh… what?”
Marisol paused. Something was not right.
She counted the books. Then counted them again. She tried to recite the names of Blake’s books from memory, then looked again.
A moment later, Marisol was running back toward Blake, panting from the rising fear in her throat.
“Blake!” She gasped.
Blake turned away from Chac, who saw the look of alarm on Marisol’s face and instinctively took a step back.
“Two of your books are gone from the Inkwell!” Marisol said. “My Father’s War and Finding Love Under the Winter Star!”
…
Akira Robinson
Creation
The SolAARium, Paradox Interactive Forums
Whetu and Akira paced in the shadows, listening to Akira’s cell phone as Tenna delivered her report.
“I can’t explain how, but whatever Psionic technique Malum used to… awaken us to the truth… it just didn’t work on Kailani. Probably because she was already insane.”
“What about Varian and Mina?” Akira replied in a soft voice. “Have they really turned?”
“Mina? Definitely not. She’s probably being held prisoner.” Tenna replied. “Varian though? Come on… you were there when he or she or whatever they are got pulled out of the Gate. Varian’s got a strong natural resistance to Psionics.”
“Willpower.” Akira corrected her. “We call it willpower in my world.”
“Whatever.” Tenna replied. “Look, Varian’s definitely trying to shake it off. Not sure if they managed to do it, but they’re trying. Tell Malum the next Creation he pulls better be a pushover, cause this one was hell.”
Akira said:
“Fine then. I’ve got someone in mind anyway… someone who might incense the rest of Blake’s little group and turn them against him. Maybe even provoke one of them into doing the job for us…”
Akira shut off her radio and turned to Whetu.
“We’re going. Quiet exit out the front, then we’ll go back to the Gate from Stockholm.”
Using their Psionic abilities to slip past a few people in the hallowed halls of the SolAARium, Akira and Whetu began moving toward the front entrance. All of their research and planning and preparation told them that Paradox Headquarters was on the other side of the street from the SolAARium. All they had to do was step through the front doors and the two women would be on the streets of Stockholm.
Just when Akira and Whetu were fifteen feet away from the tall set of double-doors, a shrill robotic voice declared for all to hear:
“Naked girl.”
A sudden, painful silence fell over the SolAARium. Akira and Whetu froze in place, then slowly turned their heads to look around.
The LEGO robot Asimov was rolling through the hall on its little plastic wheels, turning its head to keep one of its sensors aimed directly at Whetu.
“That robot can see you.” Akira hissed.
Out of shock and surprise, both Whetu and Akira broke focus for just a moment, and that was all it took.
Akira’s Psionic disguise fell away.
Whetu became visible to everyone else.
Up and down the hallway, almost fifty men and women paused in their activities to stare. Akira could sense dozens of people staring at Whetu upon realizing she was not fully covered up. Mentally, Akira added this terrible character design to the list of reasons she wanted to kill the author.
A member of Paradox staff was the first to recover from the shock. He raised one shaking hand, pointed at Whetu and shouted:
“Nudity outside of the CK3 AAR forum! Are we blind!? DEPLOY THE MODERATORS!”
“RUN!” Akira screamed. “I’ll get the Return Beacon!”
She and Whetu took off at a dead sprint, making for the double doors. Whetu put one hand out and sent a pulse of Telekinetic energy ahead of her. The double doors crashed open. Whetu and Akira were hit by a blast of cold air, and then they were out.
…
A low cloud ceiling obscured the nearby skyscrapers while the CN Tower lit up with brilliant purple and blue colors. A chill wind swept across the city, bringing the smell of Lake Ontario with it.
Akira was the first one to figure out what was wrong.
“This is not Stockholm!” Akira cursed. “FUCK! This isn’t Stockholm!”
“They’re coming!” Whetu yelled.
Several men were emerging from the SolAARium doors. Whetu put both of her hands to her head and then projected a telepathic attack toward one of them. Instantly, the poor soul began to have a panic attack as his mind was filled with the most nightmarish and traumatizing of images. He fell to his knees, convulsing and hyperventilating. This was enough to distract the others. As they stopped to offer help, Whetu turned to her companion.
Akira had opened her coat and withdrawn a small technological device, shaped like the handle, magazine well, and stock of a rifle. Whetu grabbed onto Akira.
“And you’re sure this wouldn’t have worked inside that building?”
“Very sure.” Akira replied. “But out here? We should be just fine.”
Akira pulled the trigger on the Return Beacon.
In the book Akira comes from, the Return Beacon should have behaved a highly specific way… but things were different now.
A swirling Vortex Portal opened up in front of Akira and Whetu, looking very similar to a Wormhole from Stellaris. It lurched backwards and swallowed both women completely.
Once Akira and Whetu were gone, the Vortex Portal shrank and dissipated away to nothing.
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- 1
I must confess I did genuinely laugh out loud at this.
While I do understand why Cali's account has to go, I can't help but be sad about it...
What damage can they do with the two books? Why not more?
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Yes, the line: "DEPLOY THE MODERATORS!” Definitely the best, plus the note about the CK3 forums.
Glad I survived my cameo. Thanks for that (despite my soggy notes).
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