Kintsugi Plays Fallen Hero: Retribution (ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ …(^_^)…)

Seeing as we admitted to what we are without us necessarily meaning to, maybe we-Josie is feeling the tiniest bit....... earnest?

Enough to admit that maybe, just a little, he gets it?

 

It's been a long, long day. We can end on a little bit of honesty, as a treat.​

> "Maybe you do get it," I admit.

"Maybe you do get it," you admit. It might be from the other end, but he's been a part of the system just like you are. Soldiers are not tools, but they are rarely allowed to be people.

"I wish I didn't." Chen leans back on the chair, letting out a deep breath. "This is complicated."

"It is." You lean back as well, trying to read the torrent of thoughts he's attempting to make sense of.

"At least we know where we stand now." He smiles, and you keep a straight face because he really has no idea. Not really.

"Do we?" you ask. "It's your job to return me to them. You're the Marshal."

"Bullshit." The reaction is instantaneous. "You know I'm not going to do that."

"Do I?" Your smile is cold. "Why on earth wouldn't you?"

"You're my friend. That hasn't changed." He returns the smile, quiet, confident.

"But that was before you knew the truth," you protest. "Besides, I'm not human. I don't get to have friends."

"Tough luck. You've got one." Chen's smile widens as if your protest is amusing to him. Maybe it is. Friends. It means a lot coming from him.

"You're going to keep ignoring your duty?" Turn you in. Stop you. Not that he knows you are Anathema. Would that change things? Would he still want to be your friend?

"No." He frowns, and you can feel the way he's trying to straighten out his emotions. Like a building thundercloud. "I'm not ignoring it. I'm in charge here. That's the point of being the Marshal. It's my call to make."

"Could get you fired, though." Is he suspecting what you're up to? Or is this a struggle with his duties? He had to swear an oath; you doubt he would take that lightly.

"I've done a lot of things that could get me fired," he admits. "Neither of our hands are clean."

"I know," you say, driving home the point. "Except I won't get fired. There are no laws for tools. If they are defective, they go in the trash." He should know the stakes.

"I won't let that happen to you." He believes it. Believes he can control your fate. Protect you.

"There was never a happy ending in the cards for me," you say with a tired smile. "You get that, right?"

"I don't accept that." Chen crosses his arms.

"It's not a discussion you can win. Not right now." You get to your feet, a little too wobbly. "We'll talk later. If we get the chance."

"What do you mean?" he asks, standing up as well.

"Am I going to have to look over my shoulder now?" Maybe it's breaking the mood, but the question is a valid one, in your opinion. He's sworn an oath as Marshal. He should take you in.

"Not on my account." He's willing you to believe it. You're in no danger of being betrayed. "I'll keep your secret."

"If I sense anything off, you'll never see me again." You could become Anathema full time, give up this little semblance of a life that you've been cultivating.

"I don't think I'd like that." The laugh is a surprise to you both, small and brittle but honest. "I've grown fond of having you around."

"Same," you admit. "It's not just Spoon."

"Yes, he's the real charmer here," he smiles fondly at Spoon as he walks you to the door. The dog had been so quiet you were convinced he was asleep, but instead, he's sitting attentively in front of the door, as if waiting for you to leave.

"Looks like someone wants another walk," you say, and Chen shakes his head.

"No, he needs a nap. He's overstimulated enough as it is."

"Be seeing you." You step into your shoes, unwilling to deal with any of these feelings right now. Too exposed. Too close. You need time to think.

To plan.

Spoiler: Show Stats (no change)

CLASSIFIED

Subject: Anathema

Secret Identity: Josie Jacobs
Gender: Non-binary.
Description: A tall mixed person in their thirties with brown eyes and short and styled curly dark brown hair.

Their sense of style is androgynous, secondhand streetwear, with many piercings in their ears, nose, and tongue. They have a short, scruffy beard and mustache.

Standard of Living: Josie is well-off.
Josie is living in a comfortable apartment.

Josie Jacobs is a seasoned, tech-savvy tactician.

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

Telepathy
Strength of Mind: 60%
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Subtle Manipulations: 76%
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Anathema
Anathema runs a criminal syndicate. They are a known killer.
Infamy: 51% / Obscurity: 49%
██████████▒█████████

Armored Suit
Anathema's suit is a shadow with a mirror for a face, revealing nothing. The cape conceals and obfuscates what's underneath.
In its left hand, the suit has a neutered colony of nanovores, functionally similar to having disintegration touch. The suit is also equipped with telepathic boosters and enhanced speed as well as jump-jets.

Armor Status
Need Repair: 5% / Fine: 95%
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Leadership: 66%
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Psychological Profile
Arrogance: 23% / Anonymity: 77%
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Ruthlessness: 36% / Empathy: 64%
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Daring: 53% / Caution: 47%
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Back in the day, Sidestep was known as a vigilante working with the Rangers.

Main Puppet
Name: Barbara
Puppet Status: She is badly hurt, and with severe injuries.
Description: A tall white woman in her twenties with blue eyes and long straight blond hair.

Allies and Enemies

Charge
Josie's Relationship with Ortega: Friend and ally.
Ortega's Connection with Josie: 78%
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Ortega thinks Anathema has made some good points.

Barbara's Relationship with Ortega: Eternally flirting. Josie is using Barbara as a spy.
Ortega's Connection with Barbara: 52%
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Dr. Mortum
Barbara's Relationship with Dr. Mortum: friend.
Mortum's Connection with Barbara: 66%
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Lady Argent
Josie's Relationship with Lady Argent: Distant.
Lady Argent's Impression of Josie: 1%
▒███████████████████

Lady Argent respects Anathema's abilities.
Lady Argent's Interest in Anathema: 60%
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Marshal Steel
Josie's Relationship with Steel: Confidante. He knows Josie still has their telepathic powers.
Steel's Connection with Josie: 69%
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Marshal Steel thinks Anathema needs to be brought in.

Herald
Josie's Relationship with Herald: Friends.
Herald's Connection with Josie: 67%
█████████████▒██████

Herald thinks Anathema is a villain.

Other Characters

Next time: an epilogue or two.​

 

Epilogue

Hollow Ground. Kingpin.

The sprawling villa clings to the hillside like a colorful, tropical parasite. Steel pylons secure and stabilize, while the molded fiberglass sections are organic and almost alien in nature. The view is breathtaking; not many houses remain on slopes like this after the Big One. One by one, they fell victims to shaking and mudslides only to be rebuilt on safer ground. Not this one.

The villa is a challenge against nature and looks it, and yet it nestles in the greenery as if that were its natural habitat. The parkland grounds are steep and overgrown, the wall lining the edges high and foreboding.

Nobody comes here who isn't invited.

On the very top of the villa, there is a terrace, half enclosed, where a heavily pierced person lies splayed out on a sunbed in the baking heat, sunglasses on, drink in hand.

"What a mess." Nocturne walks out, wrapped in a sweeping, layered robe, pale yellow against her black skin. "It's worse than I thought."

"You've started to get to grips with the damage then?" Hollow Ground sips their drink, otherwise remaining unmoving.

"Yes. Which should be your job, by the way." Nocturne gives the sunbed a kick hard enough to jostle the drink.

"You know I needed to deal with the old man today. I couldn't be stuck on the phone all morning." Hollow Ground swings their legs over the side, pushing the sunglasses to their forehead.

"Got done early enough to laze around here."

"Come on, Noe, can you blame me? You know it takes a lot out of me." Hollow Ground gets to their feet, shrugging on a shirt before following her back inside.

"He's still twitchy then?" Nocturne moves over to the bar, putting ice in the shaker as she prepares to make another drink.

"Not anymore." Hollow Ground slides up on the barstool. "There's nothing to worry about."

"Don't give me that. This is a mess." After vigorous shaking, she pours two drinks and scoots one over to Hollow Ground. "You're going to have to go back into the city again."

"I know." A sigh and a sip. "But there's a silver lining."

"What could that possibly be?" Nocturne leans across the bar, frown deepening.

"Shroud. Lord Ember. Anathema." Counting out names on their fingers. "Lots of pawns on the board. That's a good opportunity to make some gains."

"You hate it when something upsets your plans."

"No, I hate it when something upsets them, and I can't profit from it. This is getting complicated enough that there must be cracks to exploit."

"That is where you excel." Nocturne sighs and downs her drink. "You're not worried then?"

"Are you?"

"I've got a bad feeling about this. Too many coincidences."

"I do trust your instincts." Hollow Ground gets up and wraps their arms around Nocturne. "That's how you caught me."

"Eugh, sunscreen." Nocturne frees herself with a laugh. "You'll let me look into things then? Something is going on here, and I intend to find out what."

"Just be careful." A kiss on her cheek. "And don't piss off Alvarez again."

>

Teresa Alvarez. Mayor of Los Diablos.

Her office is quiet and calm, the air-conditioning a steady drone. Nobody disturbs the mayor when she is working. That's why she has an aide. The operative word is has. Sure, Eric Deveraux has been replaced, but you can't expect someone to fill his shoes that quickly. They had worked together for years. He had known how to navigate the murky political waters of Los Diablos better than most.

It is a loss dearly felt.

For those of us who've already forgotten his name, Eric Deveraux was the corrupt politician we personally killed. (Not to be confused with the one who got killed before we could interrogate him, though that was also blamed on us.)​

Perhaps it is time to contact the Guardians. She needs more information. They are paid far too well to sit idle; it is time she reminds them that there is more to their work than appearing on television and dealing with the occasional threat. Time for the newest member to show that he is worth her effort in recruiting him. She approved the new suit and helmet design last month to give him a clean break from his past.

Captain Blaze's performance has been slipping lately. The team needs new blood and more firepower. Perhaps she should encourage a change in leadership as well, but Zephyr is an unproven card.

She wants this city safe and secure, everything running on schedule. That's why she was elected, to make sure nothing interrupts the flow of commerce.

Business as usual.

 

Also grimacing in, hey, Ortega? Hey, Ortega...?

Grimaces in some of the historical roles of law enforcement.... returning people-considered-property to their "owners."

Given the proximity of these scenes, I can't tell for sure whether the "he" of this exchange is about Chen or someone else, but I suspect it. I'm also curious/wary of whether this is from before our scene with him.

(As in: no longer twitchy because a mind control effect was recently reinforced, and its removal hasn't been noted?

Because one was recently uprooted by a useful tool, and we don't suspect that whatever we removed is beneficial to HG?

...Something else?)

 

The most fun part is that I barely even have to Lambda_Popcorn.png this time, because that epilogue scene is still a mystery to everyone! :D (Not that I don't have a big head start on my conspiracy board about it, but you know.)

 

Mia Ochoa. Journalist.

The apartment is dark as always, and some would call it dingy. Mia most certainly does, but what can you do when the owner is a stubborn old coot who doesn't listen to reason? Vernon Browne does things his own way. Always has. Even when people disagree.

Especially then.

She rubs her nose, wondering if she can get away with airing the place out. Probably not. Open windows give easy access to other things than fresh air. Not that the air in Los Diablos can be considered fresh by any standard.

"I got you some groceries," she says instead, not waiting for a reply before she begins unpacking. Vernon isn't talkative on the best of days, especially when working. The kitchen table is stacked with today's papers, and he is carefully going through them one by one.

"I read your article." The reply is a surprise, that Vernon looks up from his newspaper even more so.

"Which one?" An easier question than asking what he thinks about it. He isn't her mentor anymore, but she still values his opinion.

"Your exposé on the Boulevard Casino. I'm surprised the Confidential printed it."

"The new editor likes me." She's confident enough not to take it as an attack on the piece's quality. It is good, and she knows it.

"Don't expect that to last." Vernon picks up a pair of scissors, cutting out an article. "If you keep digging in that particular spot, your friends will dry up fast."

"You mean Hollow Ground."

"Of course I do."

"I didn't mention them by name." She has been careful to not even imply it.

"You didn't need to. If people can read between the lines, they will know."

"But I was right, wasn't I? Charge being there in the aftermath proves it." She is so close to something big she can smell it.

"Could also be because she got tipped off about Anathema. You know that's who she's obsessing over these days."

"Are you playing devil's advocate with me? You're the one that pointed me in the direction of the casino in the first place."

"Isn't that why you come here? To argue your theories with someone?" He looks up at her, slowly blinking, like an owl waking up early.

"I come here because you don't take care of yourself. When was the last time you cleaned this place?" She gestures to the stacks of paper, the dirty windows, the dust that keeps collecting everywhere but the folders and files.

"You're the only one that complains." He puts the cutting in one of the folders on the table then continues reading.

"I'm not having this argument again," she sighs, grabbing a wet cloth to wipe down the kitchen. "And why are you still cutting up newspapers? You've got a computer."

"Things online can be changed. Print is print, and sometimes things slip through before they realize—"

"'They.'"

"You know I won't get into that." He looks up from the newspaper with a frown, grabbing the scissors once more.

"Fine," she sighs, looking over his shoulder. "I'm not sure what a…traffic accident has to do with your grand conspiracy, though." She has never managed to make sense of what he sees as important.

"Don't you remember what I taught you?" He offers her the article.

"I do. Place, time, and people." Combining those three will decide if things need to be investigated. If it might be real news. She reads the article carefully. It's not long; the picture of the wrecked car is bigger than the accompanying text. "It mentions Charge being involved, which I assume is the reason why it got printed, but I'm not sure about the other two?" Place. Time. What is she missing?

"Look into it." Vernon has a look on his face that is as close as he gets to a smile. "I'm sure you can work it out. You're a smart girl, just…"

"Just don't talk to anybody but you about it, I know." She has heard it all before. The truth is a dangerous business.

But that is half the fun.

>

Jake Manalo. Hit man.

Joes is as close to neutral ground as he can find, even if some will accuse him of slumming. Jake never minded that; you had to remember where you came from. Just because you have a secure position today doesn't mean things can't be different tomorrow. Things change. People change.

Just because he occasionally sleeps with the kingpin and their girlfriend doesn't mean he wants to rely on that connection. Or have it become public knowledge. Too many people will be gunning for him if they think he is more than just the hired help.

That would be inconvenient.

And right now, he just wants a quiet place to think.

Like this. Good security. Decent company. Nobody who will trouble him, and if someone does? Well, a fight is another way to relax. He is good at them.

Good at hitting things.

But is that really all that he is?

The epilogue for if Jake barely did anything in a playthrough always gets me. "Also, this guy exists."​

 

Vincent Marino. Captain Blaze.

The Los Diablos Guardians' headquarters is seldom quiet, and today is no exception. The argument is too public to not be overheard, but at this point, neither participant cares.

"Are you happy now, Zephyr?" Blaze snaps, trying in vain to walk away from his current second-in-command. It is useless, of course; nobody can outrun the resident speedster of Los Diablos.

"That you're up for review? Yes, of course I am." Zephyr's smile is thin and mirthless. "If it was up to me, they would have fired you already after that fiasco with Anathema."

"That's not up to you. That's Mayor Alvarez's call." How much clout does he have with her these days? He hopes it is enough.

"The council can't be happy with you." They are taunting now and not shy about showing it. "When was your last big win?"

"That goes for the whole team," he snaps. "You think you are in a better position here?"

"I'm not in charge. That's the difference." Zephyr lowers their voice. "You've lost it. You're not half as good as you think you are Captain."

"We'll see what the council says." He smiles, willing himself to show no weakness. "Maybe you should learn how to be more personable if you're after my position."

"Maybe I will," Zephyr says, and this time the threat is in the open. "Don't expect to be the captain forever if you can't do a better job."

"Noted," he says, as coldly as he's able. "Now go bother Celia if you want a fight. I've got a meeting with the mayor to get to." And he is already nursing a headache.

This is going to be a long day.

>

Leonard Freeman. The Handyman.

"I fixed the leak, honey." Leo shuffles out onto the bar floor, boots making a mess he needs to clean up before it is time to open. He still has time, Hoots doesn't open until lunch.

"Good," his wife mutters, still focused on the morning paper. "Raccoons?"

"No, just a leak. Not everything is raccoons." He walks over to kiss the top of her head, just to check what she is reading. "The Chronicle? Is anything up with San Francisco?"

"Maybe," she admits, putting it down with a sigh. "I don't like this. I think Ember is up to something. Maybe you should have a talk with your friend?"

"Come on, you like Angie as much as I do. Ask her yourself."

"Can't very well let her know that. I've got a reputation to uphold." She pushes away from the table, her wheelchair light and easy to maneuver around the bar. Leo is proud of that one, a wedding gift she hadn't asked for. The sword is nearly invisible in its chromed sheath unless you know what to look for. Same with the grenades.

"You shouldn't be so hard on her." Leo grabs a mop as his wife rolls behind the bar to refill her coffee. "Are you sure you're not just antsy to return to active duty?"

"Leo," she sighs, pausing with the empty cup in hand. "I lost my legs. I've been retired for a decade. There's no more Owl. If you want to keep being a vigilante, that's on you. I'm running a bar."

"As long as you're sure." He knows her well enough to doubt her. Zaida Haddad might have settled down and married, but all the instincts are still there.

"I am." Final words. Another cup of coffee.

But the San Francisco Chronicle on the table tells another story.

 

Regina Siepen. Project Director.

"I don't care about your excuses. I care about results. The Core is failing, and if those idiots in charge can't fix it, that means an opportunity for us. Now go back out there and find me a replacement." She glares angrily at the phone after she slams it down, more from habit than in the hope of results.

Everything is falling apart. The more they try to keep it together, the more it comes apart at the seams. If they lose the Core, they'll lose the program.

"Um…director?" A nervous voice and an even more nervous assistant. She sighs and straightens her back. Don't give them an inch.

"Yes?" she says, careful smile, judging the look on that young face. Good? Bad? Once upon a time, she would have known, instinctively. As it is, she is afraid to hope.

"We still don't have any signs of Locus." Oh, so it is bad.

"Did you come here just to deliver bad news?" she snaps.

"I'm sorry, director," she cringes, clutching her files to her chest. "But you asked to be informed. Even if it's bad."

"It's fine," she says, collecting herself once more. "I think it's time we started taking a bit more of a hands-on approach."

"Yes?" she asks, immediately attentive. Well-trained.

"I think it's time we considered looking into a scientist called Dr. Mortum. I've heard some disturbing rumors, and I want a full background check."

"Yes, director. It will be taken care of."

"Good. Dismissed. I've got work to do."

>

Dr. Mortum. Scientist.

This is fascinating. Fascinating and dangerous.

The kind of project she would do for free, not that she is about to tell anybody that. Money is always needed, even when her curiosity argues the opposite.

The prototype regenerator has turned out to be far more than she imagined. No wonder it is black tech. That someone had the balls to actually continue with this research is fascinating.

She would have loved to meet them, but the splatter of blood on some of the notes makes her think it is too late. Not that it matters, it is clear what this machine is supposed to achieve.

And how it works.

No, the big question is not if she could get it up and running, but rather what will be the consequences? It is a good thing that she has never been overly worried by moral quandaries.

All in the name of science.

She can't wait to get back to it. But right now she has a different mission, a rather time-sensitive one. She has found other things to value than science in her life. It is a strange sensation, but she has grown fond of it.

For once, science can wait.

 

I wonder if Locus is their codename for Josie... a locus of control, a central node that can link to others and read or manipulate them?

 

I probably should have put a refresher link there for who Locus is—we've technically heard of her, but only in a very brief mention in this timeline. She's that young telepath who went missing months before our villain debut.

 

Dr. Mortum. Scientist.

It's not wise getting this involved. She knows that. And yet it's so very hard to stop.

Barbara.

Mouth twitching in a nervous smile, Dr. Mortum leans forward to wipe the beading sweat from Barbara's forehead. Sky-Raider did a good job breaking her out of the hospital, like taking candy from a baby.

A saying she never really understood, from what she remembers, babies have a hard grip.

She supposes that the self-styled pirate of the skies has robbed more secure things than hospitals in his days.

Under Dr. Mortum's hand, Barbara's face twitches and contorts in pain and bad dreams. Eyes moving fast, REM, fingers twitching.

"Barbara," she whispers. "Tout va bien. Je suis là."

Barbara's eyes fly open, a gasp of pain, thrashing in the bed. Dr. Mortum very, very gently pushes her back down, too many broken bones in her body to move around.

"Barbara," she repeats. "It's me. You're safe."

"Wh…" Her voice is cracked, broken, the glass of water accepted readily. Sipping it. Finding her voice. "Where am I?"

"My lab," she clarifies. "I have a small medical bay. Do you remember what happened?"

"The car…" Face twitching, shards settling into an expression. "I crashed?"

"You did," she says, a sigh of relief as she leans closer. "But you're safe now. Everything else can be sorted out once you're better."

They have time.

 

> The End

The adventures of Josie Jacobs will continue in:

Fallen Hero: Revelations

And with Revelations still in development, this is where Josie's story leaves off for now. I hope this whole journey has been as fun for you guys as it has been for me! :D

That's it for this playthrough, so I'll open the floor to you guys. Anything else people want to discuss, questions for me, alternate choices or outcomes you'd like to explore like we did last time? There's also an early demo for the first chapter of book 3 that continues from this ending; we could try that if you want.

In any case, thank you all for joining me for this game of Fallen Hero: Fuck Around, and rest assured that I'll be back with a new thread as soon as it's time to Fallen Hero: Find Out.​

 

Fascinating that she remembers this, assuming that - like other potential endings -

Spoiler

this isn't Josie-in-puppet Barbara, but another consciousness, whether the original body's or the uhhhhh death touch mindreader lady whose name I'm forgetting right this second.

Argent didn't remember what she'd done when we grabbed her in part 1, as far as we know. Did we just fuck up the dismount in our desperation to get out before the puppet died of car crash, or has she been aware for longer than we realized?

Spoiler: referencing scene not in Josie Playthrough

Or is this more of whatever native resistance kept her alive long enough for us to bodysnatch out of the hospital?

I am once again howling for Revelations to drop and give me more Answers.