Hey, barwoman, can you manipulate time for me?
Your days are filled with idleness, but also anticipation. Change is on the horizon. A red sun rises, blood has been spilled this night bears down on MoonFall.
So the invasion is inevitable; too bad, but understandable. On the other hand I’m not too sure what to think of the line “MoonFallers never did like being told what to do.” Of course I almost exclusively interacted with the powers of MoonFall, not so much with the citizenry at large, but still I never got a distinct ‘fiercely independant’ vibe from MoonFall. Moreover, the Stormbreakers—thus to some logical extent the Imperium—are described in-game as benefitting from somewhat of a savior image in the eyes of MoonFallers, for their vital involvement during the Crasher Crisis.
So when I watch the news, and hear and see this:
It’s a bit surprising. I understand the crowd is being “whipped into a frenzy by syndicate sympathisers,” but honestly I would have expected to see citizens remaining mostly uninvolved in the whole process, almost passively waiting for it to be over. Still, again, my interactions with normal citizens were pretty much non-existent; so if the game is telling me MoonFallers want to kick the Imperium in the teeth, that’ll have to be enough for me.
In the brothel, most of the team is huddled in talk. Today’s subject is the imperial troops being ambushed by tentacled monstrosities swarming as if from the ether. But Hatsuo’s mind dwells on other concerns:
Zafra has webbed a half-mile perimeter around the brothel with cameras, to warn us in short advance of any coming attack; and with Bathsheva’s authority, our sinful abode has—so far—been spared.
As for the rest:
– Progressives and Traditionalists have ramped their mutual attacks up since the Imperials’ arrival;
– Though their eventual victory seems ineluctable, the Imperials are presently facing mightily pugnacious resistance on the part of the Iron Cartel and the Three Moons;
– Iron Gregarion is now the Iron Cartel’s Senhor, having plotted a successful a coup;
– Dejah Mars got us a ‘special dispensation’, meaning we are freer than most in MoonFall;
– The Old Watch is positively giddy to see the Imperials wiping syndicates left and right;
– The Mandate is… well, doing shifty Mandate stuff in the Abyss;
– The Board and the Constabulary have half-heartedly agreed to the annexation, but for them it really is business as usual.
Suddenly:
Quick! to the Whoremobile. Oh wait… no, Thassia and Kaywin took it. Damn. So we hoof it, and:
Ambushed. But my girls managed to escape the vehicule then deal with most of their pursuants. Now only two of the latters remain alive.
We interrogate them. They claim Thassia has killed the only one of their lot who had contact with their employer; I look around but don’t see a bull, so what’s that I smell? I nod to Zafra and Hatsuo, who give them the knuckleworks. Blood is spilled, but no so information. Maybe they are telling the truth. Maybe they are just killers for hire, with nary a thought in their heads. I don’t know; can’t find out; don’t much care. One squeeze of the trigger, then a second; the question is moot.
Then:
Shit. Zafra whirls towards the crack of the rifle—then crumples to the ground as a second shot finds it mark. I spot movement through a window, way up there in a building looming large over us. Instinctively I dive behind the car wreck. The rifle barks. Metal screams through metal. I take Zafra’s twin autos and blindly return fire, hoping the weight I feel on my shoulders is not Death’s grasp, but Fortune perched where she’s needed. I see Diana rushing for the pet store mere feet away; Hatsuo and Kaywin drag Zafra inside. Heartbeats later we’re all in the store. Not safe, not sound, but safe and sound enough.
Still the rifle barks, mad dog-like—and it’s not a fucking chihuahua either. Bullets bore through everything. Windows; tiles; bricks; cans of cat food. Everything. Shards of glass and ceramic fly everywhither. We hurl shelves against what little’s left of the windows, if only to block the shooter’s view; meanwhile the dust rises thick, and so too does the smell of blood.
Luck, Jasen, luck: I have Dejah on speed dial. For reasons. She doesn’t pick up, so I leave a message, telling her to come, but not in the usual way.
Somewhere in the back of the store, a door is rammed open. We can hear it flying off its shattered hinges, then slamming into shelves. We ready ourselves best we can.
Unfortunately, the game isn’t faithful to the setting it established. “All of your companions were injured, some more badly than others,” it had alerted me a moment ago. Yet when combat starts, everyone is at full strength. This would have been a great occasion to put us in a tight spot: decreased accuracy for Diana who’s wounded at the shoulder, critically low health for Zafra, that kind of thing.
And it’s a great opportunity to show just how damn easy the combat is.
Opponents dies so fast they’re left standing. A real Hokuto No Ken moment.
But who were those guys? Fighters from the Progressives, and… a Masked Archon? Nothing to do with the Guild, that’s a unit fronted by the Loveless. Smells fishy, and I’m not talking about the pet shop’s tanks. Lovely Rainbow Sharks by the way. Might buy some; an aquarium would class up the brothel, look good behind the bar, or under the pole.
While I’m considering that, I get a call. Black Saffron.
Something about her looks off. Can’t put my finger on it, but it’s there.
Thinking about Dejah, I stall for time; tell Saffron I like her shade of lipstick, ask her where she buys it. She doesn’t answer. Silence falls, and stretches.
Then, from outside, a familiar voice:
Sweet Dejah. I’ll have to thank her later. Me, naked but for a ribbon tied about my waist; might be a nice gift to leave on her desk.
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