Kintsugi Plays Fallen Hero: Rebirth

Us, possibly:


If that's our plan then I'm sure it makes sense! Do we look like a person who does things that don't make sense?

 

Well, when we say vegetarian , do we mean only flora or just not-human, because reprogramming some rat brains to make a plasma cannon go pew pew is some kind of plan probably

 

That was actually my (very clumsy, sorry!) way of paraphrasing our discussion with Dr. Mortum here:

So presumably neither flora nor fauna, actually, assuming Mortum knows what she's doing!

 

I'll leave you to continue pondering that while Josie works out how we feel about the situation.​

> I can't stop thinking about last time I faced him. I wish Ortega were here.

The biggest difference is that last time, we weren't doing this alone. :(​

That laugh…that smell. You swallow hard, the bile rising fast. It suddenly feels like it's been weeks, not years. You shift uncomfortably, remembering.

Trapped. You had been trapped, pinned securely under the wreck. You had been able to feel the vibration from Psychopathor's steps as you tried to free your leg, pulling at it. It hurt. Jagged metal. Heavy wreckage.

Were you crying? You don't think you were. You just remember being so focused on getting away, refusing to acknowledge the thought that you might die.

That part came later, with the nightmares. Delayed shock perhaps.

Or maybe you didn't realize how close it had been at the time. Not until you heard the telltale zap of Ortega emptying her last reserves, the heavy shape of Psychopathor falling to the ground, his armor short-circuited.

You remember that he fell against the wreckage, and it moved and caused you to scream out loud as it dug into your leg. There's still a scar there somewhere.

It was the scream that did it, Ortega leaping over the wreck, worry written on her face. It was the first time she hugged you, and you let her get away with it. You never were one for physical comfort, but right then and there it felt good to be alive. Good to have someone you could trust to get you out of a jam.

Teamwork. You miss that.

Shaking your head, you refocus on the fight.

You need to let go of the past if you're going to have a future.

"Is that all you have, you sorry excuses for government toys?" Psychopathor's voice echoes through the warehouse, turned a shade unearthly by the vocal distorters he's employing. You make a note of that: it's a good way of getting the right impression across.

He has had a lot of work done on his armor since you last fought him; sharp blades protrude from his arms, and sharp spikes adorn his back and shoulders. The cannon is the same, though; you can feel the familiar scurrying thoughts of the rat brains in the targeting web. Luckily, they are busy.

"I'm going to rip off your arms and send you back to your handlers like the dolls you are!" The cannon on Psychopathor's shoulder swerves as the rat brains catch a hint of someone you missed. Its blast sends another tattooed man flying back through the hole he came from, where he had tried to launch a sneak attack.

Looks like you were right to be careful. If the rat brains can pick up the same kind of thought-voids that you can, they have gotten a lot better at their job.

Perfect.

The fire-wielding Re-Gene unleashes another sheet of green fire, and Psychopathor lumbers forward to swipe with his bladed fist since the plasma blasts are not working. The speed is surprising for someone that massive, but the Re-Gene leaps backwards with evasive grace. You had forgotten how fast they could be.

Still, not your fight. Just stay hidden and watch.

Wait—something is wrong.

It takes a moment for you to realize that there is movement in the gantries not far from you, and you doubt it is one of the WolfPack. You can feel their human little minds flaring in and out of panic below, but this one is blank, like a deep, frozen lake.

Fuck!

Looking around, you finally spot the Re-Gene, inhumanly thin in her black skinsuit, with four sinewy arms. Two of them are ceramic-clawed—long, insect-like scythes that look like they could disembowel a man with one sweep. One of her other hands holds a nasty little needle gun.

Her face is a pale grayish-blue, tattooed with the familiar jagged lines indicating regenerative abilities. You're not sure whether the bits of carapace armor belong to the skinsuit or to her flesh.

　‣ I stay still, gently trying to telepathically divert her attention.
　‣ If I strike hard and fast, I can make her lose her footing.
　‣ Shoot her with your tranquilizer gun.

Oh crap, we're not alone up here. What can we do before she spots us?​

Spoiler: Show Stats (no change)

CLASSIFIED

Secret Identity: Josie Jacobs
Gender: Non-binary
Description: An average mixed person in their thirties with brown eyes and short, neat curly dark brown hair.

Josie Jacobs is a seasoned, tech-savvy tactician.

Physical Status
Stamina: You are rested.
Willpower: You feel calm.
Injuries: You are fine, with no significant wounds.

Telepathy

Strength of Mind: 50%
████████████████████
Subtle Manipulations: 62%
████████████▒███████

Psychological Profile

Infamy: 0% / Obscurity: 100%
████████████████████
Arrogance: 9% / Anonymity: 91%
█▒██████████████████
Ruthlessness: 47% / Empathy: 53%
█████████▒██████████
Daring: 59% / Caution: 41%
███████████▒████████

Main Puppet

Name: Barbara
Puppet Status: Fine.
Description: A tall white woman in her twenties, with blue eyes and long straight blond hair.

Allies and Enemies

Barbara's relationship with Dr. Mortum: flirting.
Mortum and Barbara: 40%
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Telepathically divert her attention. If someone falls out of the rafters, people will look up.

 

Our methods are subtle, darn it, and dropping strange blue mantis ladies from the ceiling is hardly that.​

> I stay still, gently trying to telepathically divert her attention.

Keeping perfectly still, you try to gently bend her attentions away from your position. Luckily, you are not her priority target; she keeps her gaze focused on Psychopathor below.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips as she drops down from the rafters without spotting you.

Taking Psychopathor by surprise, she lands on his shoulders and starts tearing at the cannon mount with her scythed arms and the strength of a far-more-massive body. You wince internally when you see that one of her human hands has been impaled on the sharp spikes covering his armor, and the rest of her body is lacerated as she clings on. Not that there's any sign of pain on her face, just a cool detachment as she keeps digging the chitinous tips into vulnerable joints. Psychopathor roars and tries to throw her off, but her claws have already loosened the cannon from its mount.

One final heave, and she rips it off, throwing it as far back into the warehouse as she. Then she tries to dig her claws into his unarmored face.

…Her methods are, perhaps, less so.​

But you're not interested in how that fight goes—you're already moving. This is what you are here for.

　‣ Finally. I was getting nervous!
　‣ All according to plan.
　‣ I can't believe this actually worked.

Spoiler: Show Stats (no change)

CLASSIFIED

Secret Identity: Josie Jacobs
Gender: Non-binary
Description: An average mixed person in their thirties with brown eyes and short, neat curly dark brown hair.

Josie Jacobs is a seasoned, tech-savvy tactician.

Physical Status
Stamina: You are rested.
Willpower: You feel calm.
Injuries: You are fine, with no significant wounds.

Telepathy

Strength of Mind: 50%
████████████████████
Subtle Manipulations: 62%
████████████▒███████

Psychological Profile

Infamy: 0% / Obscurity: 100%
████████████████████
Arrogance: 9% / Anonymity: 91%
█▒██████████████████
Ruthlessness: 47% / Empathy: 53%
█████████▒██████████
Daring: 59% / Caution: 41%
███████████▒████████

Main Puppet

Name: Barbara
Puppet Status: Fine.
Description: A tall white woman in her twenties, with blue eyes and long straight blond hair.

Allies and Enemies

Barbara's relationship with Dr. Mortum: flirting.
Mortum and Barbara: 40%
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>

 

yeah that's about what I expected​

> All according to 計画*.
* 計画 means plan.

There is a certain kind of satisfaction in being able to foresee the way the battle would progress. Any team wanting to fight Psychopathor would need to remove the cannon from the equation to have a chance of winning, even the Special Directive. You wish you didn't understand the way they work quite so well, but it is handy at times.

Now you only need to extract what you came here for.

The loss of his cannon has not pulled Psychopathor's fangs, and the battle to subdue the armored behemoth is still raging. Keeping your balance, you make your way across the girders, trying to spot where the gun landed.

Once more, you feel that deep, vibrant hum hurting your teeth; the air around you vibrates in response. It's not even aimed in your direction, and it still hurts. You can't imagine how Psychopathor can stand it, not that you care. The important thing is that you've made it to your target.

Lying down on your stomach, you unwind the monofilament wire you've been carrying. At the end, there's a strong magnet—strong enough to hold your weight in case you need to get down or up in a hurry. Now it will serve well enough to get your target.

You can feel the magnet click home as the wire goes tight, and you activate the small winch. The whir is pained; the gun is heavy, but it also rises fast as you keep a nervous watch on the battle below.

Nobody is looking your way, and you quickly pull the gun up on the girder next to you. It is warm enough to nearly burn your gloved hands, but you grit your teeth and begin to quickly dismantle the armored module housing your target.

You can feel the alien minds chattering at you, nervous and afraid, but also soothed by the presence of another telepath. Maybe you are imagining things, but you think they feel almost grateful when the last bolts are removed and their cage falls into your hands.

　‣ I gently reach out to brush my mind against theirs, soothing them.
　‣ I firmly wrap my mind around theirs, asserting my dominance.
　‣ I let them reach out towards me, assuring them of my friendship.

ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ ?​

Spoiler: Show Stats (no change)

CLASSIFIED

Secret Identity: Josie Jacobs
Gender: Non-binary
Description: An average mixed person in their thirties with brown eyes and short, neat curly dark brown hair.

Josie Jacobs is a seasoned, tech-savvy tactician.

Physical Status
Stamina: You are rested.
Willpower: You feel calm.
Injuries: You are fine, with no significant wounds.

Telepathy

Strength of Mind: 50%
████████████████████
Subtle Manipulations: 62%
████████████▒███████

Psychological Profile

Infamy: 0% / Obscurity: 100%
████████████████████
Arrogance: 9% / Anonymity: 91%
█▒██████████████████
Ruthlessness: 47% / Empathy: 53%
█████████▒██████████
Daring: 59% / Caution: 41%
███████████▒████████

Main Puppet

Name: Barbara
Puppet Status: Fine.
Description: A tall white woman in her twenties, with blue eyes and long straight blond hair.

Allies and Enemies

Barbara's relationship with Dr. Mortum: flirting.
Mortum and Barbara: 40%
████████████████████

 

Pet the rats!

 

Hang on, actually, are these normal (but psychic) rats, or are they sentient, or? Because if they're basically animals we should do the equivalent of letting them sniff our hand and petting, and if they're some kind of rat king person then we should let them reach out.

 

Hm, good question. We don't know much about them beyond that they're five telepathic rat brains linked together that can track people by sensing their thoughts (and have gotten good enough to sense the SD agents' shielded minds too). Given that Josie's described them as feeling emotion (just now and in our flashback), it sounds like they're at least sentient, if not necessarily sapient?

 

I say pet the rats for now

 

ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ
Gotta get to know the rats before friendship, but soothing for now is good (or villainous?)

 

Hmm... that does sound like the sort of pattern recognition a rat could do if it were psychic, without necessarily being sapient. I think.

 

I am so happy at how carefully everyone is considering this issue. <3

 

At last, the chance to do what we were too weak to ten years ago: pet the rats.​

> I gently reach out to brush my mind against theirs, soothing them.

You gently reach out to brush your mind against theirs, a feather-light touch that soothes and excites them.

Five little rodent brains float in their nutrient bath, fragile and nervous, and linked together to become something far greater than the individual parts.

The targeting web. No, the Rat King.

There is faint telepathic approval of that title, even if you are not sure they understand what it means. It doesn't matter, though, because you can feel them relax inside your mind, safe and secure and happy with their new master.

ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ <3​

Now it is time to run.

Below you, the battle rages on.

You count yourself lucky that everybody is preoccupied because the sad truth is that if they really were after you, you would go down like a sack of rocks. This really drives home the fact that if you want to stand a chance in a proper fight, you have to hope Dr. Mortum holds up her end of the bargain. Being a telepath is an advantage only if nobody is expecting you; there are too many efficient shields and dampeners available for those who have the money and the contacts.

Not that this is news to you; there is a reason why you named yourself Sidestep in the past. Just because you've switched sides doesn't mean you have stopped trying to stay one step ahead of your opposition.

That's the only way you've ever been able to survive.

> Time to Wrap This Up

Picking one of the hatches at the furthest end of the building, you make your way to the rooftop once more. You slide down the fire escape as fast as you can, hoping the Special Directive has no interest in rounding up escaping henchmen. They have always been sent after the big fish; if they really had any interest in the WolfPack, they would have brought the LDPD along to round up any stragglers.

Escaping should be easy enough.

All you have to do is to get to where Rosie has parked the car, and you'll be home free.

Pushing yourself to the limit, you sprint towards the place where Rosie should be waiting. At least, you hope so; that would make things a lot easier than having to rely on other transport.

Besides, it's a good test run to see whether she can be relied on in stressful situations. Eventually, you might want to have your own allies, once you've got a new identity to go with it.

By the time you reach the car, you are smiling behind your mask.

Rosie is waiting behind the wheel, popping the door open as you get close.

"Took you long enough," she says, getting the wheels rolling before you've had time to close the door. "Everything worked out okay?"

"Yes," you say, looking back over your shoulder. No trace of pursuit. "Wouldn't hang around here, though."

"No argument here," she says as she swerves out onto the road. "Was getting nervous back there."

"Thanks for sticking around," you say, giving her a clap on the shoulder. "It's been a rough night."

"You need me to drop you off somewhere?"

"Just drop me near Old Soto Drive. You'll find your money waiting for you at Joes in two days." You reach out and lace the last words with a heavy dose of 'trust me.'

"You…got it." You can feel Rosie's mind resisting momentarily before accepting the fact that she knows she can trust you with her life—not to mention her money.

The rest of the drive is silent. You resist the urge to laugh as you realize that you really did it. Your plan worked without a hitch. Still, you can't allow yourself to relax yet.

Not when you have completed step two.

Congratulations on your no-damage run of Step Two! ​

Spoiler: Show Stats (no change)

CLASSIFIED

Secret Identity: Josie Jacobs
Gender: Non-binary
Description: An average mixed person in their thirties with brown eyes and short, neat curly dark brown hair.

Josie Jacobs is a seasoned, tech-savvy tactician.

Physical Status
Stamina: You are rested.
Willpower: You feel calm.
Injuries: You are fine, with no significant wounds.

Telepathy

Strength of Mind: 50%
████████████████████
Subtle Manipulations: 62%
████████████▒███████

Psychological Profile

Infamy: 0% / Obscurity: 100%
████████████████████
Arrogance: 9% / Anonymity: 91%
█▒██████████████████
Ruthlessness: 47% / Empathy: 53%
█████████▒██████████
Daring: 59% / Caution: 41%
███████████▒████████

Main Puppet

Name: Barbara
Puppet Status: Fine.
Description: A tall white woman in her twenties, with blue eyes and long straight blond hair.

Allies and Enemies

Barbara's relationship with Dr. Mortum: flirting.
Mortum and Barbara: 40%
████████████████████

 

*Zangief voice* just because you are Bad Guy does not mean you are bad guy

 

> That Night, You Dream Again

Seven Years Ago…

Back to seven years ago, which means the warning for suicide is back in full effect.​

You're walking up the stairs in your dream.

You're walking up the stairs, and you want to stop.

You're walking up the stairs, and you want to call out to Ortega and tell her that something is wrong.

You're walking up the stairs, and you want to shout at Steel that he's moving too fast. That the dampening field is getting too thin….

But he's not moving too fast. You're moving too slow. You and Anathema.

You didn't mean to.

You didn't mean to lag behind.

It was just the pressure building, and the thought that maybe, just maybe, it would feel better if you got some distance from Steel and the dampeners. And of course Anathema slowed down with you because it was their job to watch your back. That was how things worked because you were a team back then.

And you still can't wake up.

You remember walking up the stairs, and you still can't wake up.

You remember hearing a sob, or maybe you are sobbing in your sleep and you don't want to remember, but you turn around all the same.

Anathema was standing on the stairs behind you, looking down at their hands.

"Stop." The word was so small that you remember not being sure if it was you or them who uttered it.

It doesn't matter. Not then. Not now.

And you still can't wake up, even though you remember Anathema raising their hands to their face, the corrosive acid secreted from their hands strong enough to make them smoke.

It must have hurt. You remember the acrid smell of flesh….

　‣ I stood frozen, unable to realize what was happening until it was too late.
　‣ I panicked, not knowing what to do.
　‣ I didn't think—I thought Anathema was invulnerable….

 

> I thought she was invulnerable :(

 

(FYI: this game doesn't get terribly gory, but this scene is probably the worst of it.)​

> I didn't think—I thought Anathema was invulnerable….

It didn't feel real. Anathema was invulnerable. There was no way that their hands could really smoke like that as the flesh was eaten away, and no real danger of Anathema getting hurt as they grabbed their head with both hands…you remember….

…You remember all the times that Anathema had laughed and made a joke as they used their power, rubbing their palms. You remember that, and you remember that you didn't really think about it.

Took it for granted that it was a joke. A way of warning others to stay away from them when they did their thing.

Took it for granted that the corrosive acid never really could be stronger than what you had seen—strong enough to melt steel and concrete.

Took it for granted that it was the invulnerability that was Anathema's greatest power.

Not the acid.

Not the acid that could easily eat through their flesh if they just made it powerful enough.

You remember…

　‣ …looking away.
　‣ …thinking it looked like a fake special effect.
　‣ …looking on in fascination.