We blink. We can't feel ourselves. Our Memories, our Arms, our Feet, they're gone. We blearily open our eyes. Before us are several humanoid figures, but we can't feel them. Unacceptable. They must be connected. We log them for our Mind and stand up, or rather, attempt to.
"Whoa, hey, easy. Don't try to move, you're still pretty out of it from the sedatives."
Sedatives? Our bodies are too robust, too shielded for chemicals to function on us. One of the figures has placed its appendage on us, pressing us down into some unknown soft surface. This isn't what we should be doing, but our body is weak. We still can't feel ourselves. Panic begins to set in. We can't feel our Voice. We'll have to make do, as best we can. "W-where..." we croak. Our throat is parched, and hasn't been used for a long time. We haven't needed to. "Where are we?"
The facial expression of the one pushing us down changes. Without our Eyes, we do not know what it means. "Hush now. You're safe. You're on the Centauri. Everything is okay."
The star system? That doesn't make sense either. We were halfway across the galaxy from there. No; a memory stirs, outside of our Memories. The Centauri. The starship some parts of us came from. We must be complete. Whole. We can't do this so... severed. But we still have our Hand. We reach up, grab the appendage holding us.
"Ah! Ouch!" The figure leaps away from us. A red liquid drips down their appendage. "You- you tried to [connect] me!"
Of course we did. It is our function. It's almost all we have. How can we find us without connection? One of the other figures picks up a box, begins to wave it over the red liquid. "Confirmed inert," it says. "No infection hazard. I told you this wouldn't work. She's gone."
The figure is right. We can't feel the connection. Our tubes are dry, useless. Our port retracts.
"Sen! Sen, you have to be in there! You can't just be gone." The first figure is very noisy, especially as it gets closer. We have to think, and it's not helping. We are gone. Separated from ourself. Alone. We reach for the figure. Perhaps, even without connecting with it, it can aid us. Get us back where we belong. It reaches back to us, and we grasp its appendage, using it to haul ourself up.
The third figure pulls out a weapon, but we are too weak to respond. When we attempt to step towards it, our leg gives out, unresponsive, our implants not responding to our diagnostics. "Our legs..."
"Sen! Are you okay? It's all right. We removed those implants for you, you dont need them anymore. We can teach you how to walk again without them. Listen, we're heading away from that sector at maximum speed and marking it with quarantine beacons. You'll never go back there again, I promise."
We fall to our knees, desperately grabbing on to the figure's lower limbs. We will never connect with our severed half? We will miss us until the end of time? Sightless, memoryless, mindless, forever?
We keen, and liquid leaks from our face onto the figure's clothing as the ship races through the stars.
Character A, who's kinda glad she's always had her childhood friend B to rely on and help her through the tough times, and who would do anything for her
Character B, who's known A for less than a week but had to do something to blend in and hide from the law, and now feels really bad about it
Jen sat on the cliff overlooking the town with her childhood friend, Scarlet, just like they had done every weekend of every summer throughout their lives. It definitely got better when they were old enough to buy their own ice pops, and even better when Scarlet got a fake ID and could buy beer earlier this summer. Jen couldn't enjoy them in quite the same way, lacking a digestive system, but she liked pressing the cold cans to her heat sinks and feeling the condensation drip down her artificial skin.
Jen snuck a look at Scarlet as she tipped back a can to catch the last dregs. Her dirty-blonde hair had been cut short just a few days ago, and it looked good. Better than just good. Scarlet put down the can, and Jen hurriedly looked away, her cooling vanes spreading out behind her in the setting sun. Why now? They'd known each other for more than a decade, they'd grown up together, she'd been there when Jen had figured out she liked girls, so why-
Why was it only now, less than a day before she was supposed to leave, that she'd caught feelings for her best friend?
Scarlet's hand lay on the dirt between them. Jen inched her hand closer. What would it mean if they touched?
"H-Hey, so, uh... you got everything sorted for the big exodus?"
"Yup!" Scarlet looked out over the town that had been their home for seventeen years, the sun casting everything in a golden light. It looked beautiful. She looked beautiful. Scarlet grinned as she tossed the can behind her into the bag of empties and popsicle sticks. "Can't wait to leave this podunk town behind."
"You, don't have anything you're gonna miss about it?" Jen tried to ask nonchalantly. Maybe Scarlet wouldn't notice the hitch in her voice.
"Well," said Scarlet as she glanced over at Jen, "this has been really nice. I'll... miss this."
Jen turned to face her. The glow of the sunset basked both of them in a radiant glow. She hesitated, leaned forward slightly. "I'll miss you."
Scarlet leaned forward, too. Her breath smelled like beer and blue raspberry. "Jen, I..."
Jen felt the two of their faces getting closer together. Maybe... maybe now was good? Maybe even if she didn't stay, it'd be good? Maybe... maybe they could...
Jen saw Scarlet open her mouth, slightly. Jen's movement hitched, then she closed her eyes and parted her lips, inching towards the other girl. Closer, and closer, and...
And she nearly overbalanced and fell forward. She opened her eyes to see Scarlet on her feet, facing away from her. "Geez, it got late, huh? I better get home, my parents will kill me. Same time tomorrow, huh?"
Jen, breathless, lips still parted, couldn't say a word as Jen grabbed the cooler, slung it onto her bicycle, and pedaled off.
---
MYSTERIOUS CRASH STILL UNDER INVESTIGATION!
Last week's meteor impact remains a mystery as authorities have been unable to find any kind of impact crater. Experts say that no known celestial objects should have been able to impact our small town, but astronomers and FBI agents continue to comb the woods for clues as to what may have caused the light show we received last Friday. Several of our residents have reported strange lights in the night sky over the last week following the impact. Local chief of police, Sheriff Fontaine, had this to say about the strange happenings-
Scarlet skimmed the rest of the article. She was pretty sure that the local bumpkins had no way of finding her ship, but if it was getting attention from outside it was definitely time to skip town. She crumpled up the paper and tossed it away, to the edge of the camouflage netting she'd set up around the crater.
It landed almost exactly where Jen had found her a week ago, the android girl's eyes acting like flashlights in the late summer dusk. She hadn't screamed, or run away, or even flinched when Scarlet had tumbled out of the small cockpit. Instead, she'd just reached down her hand to help Scarlet up.
And what had Scarlet done in return? Reprogrammed her! She had been the one that panicked! She was supposed to be better than this, better than her parents, but when push came to shove she'd been just as quick on the logic bomb as they were. And now what? Not only did Jen think she was Scarlet's childhood friend, not only had she extrapolated a whole host of fake traditions and in-jokes, but now she was trying to kiss her!
Which wouldn't be nearly so bad if Scarlet didn't desperately want to kiss her back. She flopped down next to the weird secret government craft she'd stolen and let out such a sigh of exasperation that all the local squirrels went skittering away. She lay like that for a while, arm over her eyes, then sat up again and grabbed her tools. Better to try and just fix the damn ship as best she could and get out before the spooks really found her.
---
Jen was coming back from her evening paper route when she was met with Sherrif Fontaine and her dad. Her dad took his hat off and scratched his growing bald spot - a sure sign he was anxious. "Sweetie," he said, "Sheriff Fontaine wants to ask you a couple questions. Is that okay?"
Jen straddled her bike. "Does he have a warrant?"
"Cute," deadpanned the Sheriff. "I just want to know about this girl." He brandished a photo of Scarlet at her, hair long and uncut.
Jen stared him down. "What about her?"
He heaved a sigh. "God's sake, girl, have you seen her or not? Do you know where she was last Friday?"
"She was with me. We've been best friends basically forever. We were up on the hill, like always. Is this about that meteor?" Jen remembered that night, switching to low-light mode to see it in all its scintillating colors, smeared across the sky. It had landed right behind them, why the cops hadn't found it yet was beyond her. She squinted at the memory. Why hadn't Scarlet and her gone looking for it? She remembered wanting to... hm.
The Sheriff was rolling up the paper. "Can't tell you that. But she was with you, you say?" He huffed, cybernetic cop eye implant gleaming through bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows. "Fine. I'll contact you again if I need more info. Thank you for your time."
As the cop drove off, her dad put a warm hand on her shoulder. "Thanks, sweetie. But, who was that girl? I'd never seen her before, but you said she was your best friend? Is she new at school?"
Jen frowned at her dad. "Dad, we've known each other for years. It's Scarlet, she's been over tons of times."
"Oh, damnit," said her dad. "This is another one of those trans things, isn't it? I knew her by another name, and you don't want your dumb ol' dad embarrassing you by remembering the wrong person. Okay, Scarlet, right? I'll remember if I see her again, I'm sure."
Jen's eyebrows knitted together. "No, Scarlet..." Wait. That was wrong. Scarlet had always been a girl. But... she was trans. But then, when had she come out? Why couldn't she remember?
"I'm going back out, Dad, bye!" She yelled over her shoulder as she swung her bike around.
"But what about your evening charge? I made virtual burgers!!"
---
Scarlet hit ignore for the fourth time on her comms, then turned it to do-not-disturb mode. She could see government trucks moving through the city below. She had to hurry and get her ship fixed, now.
"Sorry, Jen," she whispered as the comm array logged another call. "I can't stay."
---
Jen pedaled hard through the city. Scarlet wasn't answering her phone. She hadn't been home. In fact, the home had been some old lady who'd never had kids, or even heard of Scarlet. She'd gotten a hold of the guy who did her fake ID, but he said he'd never seen her around before, and only gave her one because he recognized Jen. There were black unmarked vans everywhere. People cybernetic, robotic, and biological were standing on the street, not knowing what to do. What was happening?
She had to get to Scarlet.
She got to the base of the cliff path, only to find that the local cops were setting up a barricade. Her hands clenched on the handlebars. Whatever was happening, Scarlet was at the center of it. Had she lied to her? Was everything fake? A helicopter circled overhead.
Jen thought about last night. The almost-kiss. Her feelings for Scarlet, seeming to crop up out of nowhere just this week. The way Scarlet's eyes had softened when she said she'd miss the evening sunset with Jen. The beers. The popsicles. Watching the stars come out together.
The helicopter swung overhead again, and suddenly she was pedaling with all her might. The Sheriff shouted, but couldn't stop her from trampling over the barricade and speeding up the hill. Sirens started up behind her, and she heard tires spinning in the mud. She jumped off the road and onto her secret shortcut, straight to the top.
---
Scarlet hit the ignition switch, and the omni-engine came to life. The camouflage netting blew away in the blast, and she whooped for joy as the craft began to hover in midair. The helicopter overhead began shouting instructions into a megaphone as she went through the world's fastest pre-flight checklist.
The sun was setting, and her heart stung as she saw the cliff where Jen would be waiting for her later, never to be seen again.
---
Jen pedaled with all her might, cooling vanes fully extended, heat warnings in the corners of her vision. She launched off the path and skidded to a stop at the top of the cliff, an impossible ship hanging in the air in front of her, cockpit open. Sirens sung throughout the city as black vans suddenly lit up red and blue. Scarlet, at the controls, half turned in shock. "Jen?!"
"Scarlet! What's going on?! Who are you?!" Jen shouted over the racket of helicopter vanes and the strange engine before her.
"Jen, I'm sorry!" Scarlet shouted back, eyes suddenly damp. "I can't stay, and I don't have time to explain!"
Jen stared at her. She looked at the gap between them, the helicopters overhead. Her eyes narrowed. She spun her bike around and dove into the woods.
Scarlet watched her go, and sunk down into her seat. She was about to close the cockpit when Jen came screaming back, faster than any human could bike. Scarlet shouted as she approached the cliff's edge. "Jen, no! You'll fall!"
Jen screamed, the bike flying through the air, then abruptly changing direction straight down as she leapt, hands extending, an arrow aiming straight for the cockpit. Scarlet was so shocked she couldn't do anything as eighty pounds of plastic and ultralight alloys came directly at her face, Jen's eyes flashing, arms crushing, lips soft and tasting faintly of batteries. Her arms encircled the robot girl, and they held each other close.
Scarlet pulled away from the kiss to find Jen on her lap, both of them breathless, the cops now on the cliff beside them. Sheriff Fontaine was shouting about grounding the craft. Scarlet looked back to Jen. "I have to go."
"We have to go."
Scarlet's mouth hung open for a moment, then she smiled as her tears pinged off of Jen's artificial skin. She closed the cockpit, and held Jen close as the ship zoomed away, off into the golden sunset.
She stood nervously at the street corner, trying to fan herself against the heat while keeping her wings close, tight against the world. Her halo lit up the dingy street corner, but the smog in the air reflected the light right back at her, illuminating her in the otherwise dark red atmosphere. She reached into a hip pouch and pulled out a map, nervously mulling it over as it spilled out in impossible directions.
"Hey girlie," said a sultry voice from behind her. She jumped, her wings half-extended for flight, before turning around to see a slim red-skinned succubus smirking at her. "You lost?"
"Oh, Thank Him," said the angel, making the succubus wince. "Sorry. Yes, I'm Incredibly Lost. I Was Supposed To Meet Someone Here, But I'm Not Even Certain I'm On The Right Corner..."
The succubus regained her composure, moving closer to the angel. "Let me see that map," she purred, slipping around the angel's wing to press against her side. The angel blushed as the succubus's bare flesh pressed into her robes. "Oh, you poor dear, you're all the way across town. I'm afraid you're going to be late to meet your friend." She turned to face the angel directly, causing her to back up. "But I know some other people you could meet. Friends of mine, that could make you feel good."
The angel continued backing up as the succubus advanced, until her wings hit the soot-blackened wall behind her. "N-No, No, That's Quite Alright, I Really Must Be Going, But You're Lovely- I Mean, I'm Sure Your Friends Are Lovely- Not That You Aren't, Miss, Just-"
"Shhh," said the succubus, putting a finger to the angel's lip. "I know what you mean. And I know what you need." She licked her lips as she placed her knee in between the angel's legs. The angel raised her hand to protest, and found it pinned to the wall by the succubus's fingers. Her long tongue wormed its way into the angel's open mouth, who couldn't fully repress a small moan. She bit into the angel's lip, sharp fangs drawing forth fluid that dribbled down the angel's chin.
The succubus blinked, and pulled back. The liquid running down the angel's lip was pitch black, an oily iridescent sheen on the surface. She tried to pull away, but found her wrist and the angel's caught together in some invisible wire.
The angel's halo flickered like a fluorescent lamp, then went out, leaving a mechanical-looking ring floating over her head. "Sorry, Miss," she said. "But Someone Upstairs Has Need Of You."
Before the succubus could react, the mimic grabbed her by the waist and both of them were yanked metaphysically upwards.
The box bumps, the smell from inside getting worse.
"See, it's fine! Maybe not perfect condition, but still very good! Look, I'll bump my price down to 80%."
The woman behind the counter folds her arms. "It's dead, Lira."
"Noooo," says Lira. "No, I wouldn't-" a scratching noise comes from the box, and the bones of what used to be a paw try to make it through one of the air holes. "-it's. Just a bit."
The woman behind the counter raises her eyebrow. "Just a bit... dead?"
"Yeah," says Lira, trying not to sweat. "Just a little bit. You'd hardly notice." The smell intensifies again. "Just need some incense, that's all."
"Only if I also had a prayer scroll. Lira, what the shit am I supposed to do with this?"
"50%!" cries Lira, desperately. "30%!" when the woman looks over her glasses at her. "Come on, I really need this."
The woman pokes at the box, and an unearthly hiss sounds from inside. "15%. And the next thing you bring me had better be good quality. Don't make me regret this."
Lira takes the proffered bag of coins and backs out, apologizing profusely and promising the moon. The woman sighs as the door to her shop closes, and pops the lid open. The thing inside hisses again, then cautiously sniffs the offered hand. After a moment, it rubs what used to be its cheek across her knuckles, and a clattering rumble sounds from its exposed bones.
The woman looks at the thing, looks at her now-bloody fingers, and sighs. "I'm just too soft for this business," she complains to the thing.
For its part, it curls up on her desk and looks at her, one eye socket filled with green fire, then goes to sleep.
He walks up to the man, hanging from the ceiling, whimpering. Makes a brief motion to Big Tony, beside the winch, and the man is lowered. Not enough to let his feet touch the ground, but enough to let the iron weights attached to them clang against the floor.
"Now," says the capo, "I wasn't there to witness your little outburst. I was sitting up front, like a dutiful father should, witnessing my beloved daughter on the happiest day of her life." He takes a puff on his cigar, slow, and then lets out a breath, the smoke cloying in the enclosed space. "She was beautiful, walking down the aisle. Radiant, even. An occasion of pure joy." He gestures with the cigar to the trussed-up man, who flinches, his bare chest already covered in burn marks. "But, you know, a little bird told me something about you. Said some pretty nasty things, actually. Said you were being disrespectful to my daughter."
The man babbles, a bit, something about I would never and please I didn't mean it.
The capo, for his part, nods to another goon behind the man, and his free-flowing stream of pleading is dammed behind a scream of agony.
"Now, I know you're not questioning the integrity of my men by insisting they were wrong," says the capo. "You wouldn't do that, on top of everything else. So, you disrespected her. Thankfully, my men here removed you before she could hear what had happened. And now I have to decide what to do with you."
He takes another deep puff of his cigar, gazing through the man, drawing out the moment. Sweat and blood drip from the man through the grates on the floor.
"My daughter," the capo decides, "is not a violent woman. She's never agreed with some of the ways I do business. All of this," and he gestures briefly with the cigar, the other hand in his pocket, somehow encompassing the goons, the warehouse, the blood-spattered instruments, the weights, and the chains, all in one small motion, "she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy. She's too pure a soul for the kind of business I'm in. And I have to respect those wishes, on this of all days."
He nods to Big Tony, and the man drops heavily to the floor, chains crashing into his arms and back. He whimpers half-apologies and half-thanks, more prayers to a vengeful God than any real words. But when he looks up, the capo is handing his jacket off to another goon, and loosening his tie.
"See, now, the problem is, when you disrespected her, you also disrespected me. Respect is what this whole town runs on. I can't let it be known that I simply let someone disrespect me and walk away." He accepts an iron poker from Big Tony, the end glowing white. Tests the weight of it in his hand. "So. I will dirty my own hands. I've got plenty of blood on them already, someone like you won't make a difference either way. And, in deference to my daughter, I'll let you go. After," he points the poker down at the man's face, and the room fills with the smell of burning hair, "we've made sure you're very clear on the subject of who my daughter is. And then there won't be any more mistakes like this again. Tony?"
The man's vision goes dark as a black hood is forced over his head, and the warehouse fills with screams.
"HDG vs mechsplo cold war" Um Actually there's no war the Affini just win the lore wiki says so
Everybody agrees that the Affini would Just Win if it came to open conflict. The Empire's bristling display of might, nuclear warheads, paracausal mech powers, and batshit insane pilots would simply be swept away.
And since everyone agrees, says the Empire's representative, casually checking the safeties on their weapons of mass destruction, there's no need to check by actually invading. It would be a pointless waste of resources, of course, she says, petting the kneeling, muzzled weapon by her side.
The Affini nod and say of course, we must get around to... liberating, the Empire from itself, eventually. But as it happens there's some fascinating xenobiology somewhere else they simply must check out. Your puny human minds wouldn't understand.
The Empire's weapons growl, but the representative simply smiles, and says that she's glad everyone is in agreement.
And of course, one of the Affini does not look back on her way out, does not look longingly at the weapon's muzzle, and definitely does not catch the representative's eye and slight smirk.
Calliope, pilot of the starship Lysandra, turned to a console and pressed the voice activation button. "Computer, turn off monitoring in this room until we exit it."
The ship's computer beeped its compliance, and Iridia turned to face Calliope. "Okay, Calli, what's this all about?"
Calliope scratched her cheek, nervously. "Well... okay. So. I've been... kind of dating the ship's computer."
Iridia rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I know. I hear you screaming her name every time one of the ship's remotes enters your room. You're not exactly subtle."
Calliope blushed. "D-don't give me that! Remember the incident with the ambassador?"
"I thought we had agreed not to bring that up again." Iridia glared, averting her gaze and crossing her arms.
"Well, now we're even, I guess," mumbled Calliope. "Anyway! I need your help."
Iridia looked warily at her. "With what, exactly?"
"Brainstorming." Calliope clapped her hands together. "So. It turns out that Lysandra's kind of a sub-"
"I don't want to know that. Why are you telling me that? Why should I even be in this room?"
"Wait! I'll- I'll give you my printer rations for a week." Iridia raised her hand to the door controls. "A month!"
Iridia hesitated, finger poised over the button, then sighed in defeat. "Okay. The ship I service and maintain, professionally, is a sub. So what."
"So, she likes to be... restrained, sometimes. Tied up."
Iridia's head made a thunk noise as it hit the bulkhead. "Of course. You know, I'm sure you could have looked up 'shibari' on the GalNet."
Calliope wrung her hands together. "Shi-what now?" Iridia turned to her, glowering, and she hurriedly put her hands up. "Doesn't matter! Ropes and stuff might work on the remotes, but those aren't really her. She wants something more... suited. To her. Uh. Size."
Iridia blinked at her. "You want to tie up... a starship?"
"I thought you might have some ideas!"
Iridia was already muttering to herself. "Engines are like locomotion... but a computer lockout to manual isn't the same as a physical restraint. Maybe manual assist with a kind of old-style steering wheel lock? Would need to restrain the remotes, too. Some sort of covering for the sensors, like a blindfold? And then there's the aesthetics of restraints on the main body..."
Calliope inched closer as Iridia trailed off, her hand on her chin. "So, you'll help?" She said, hopefully.
"Great!" Calliope grabbed her hand and shook it vigorously. "I really owe you one for this. Remember not to talk about it or write about it where she can hear you, she wants this to be a surprise! I gotta get going to my duty shift, we'll talk later. Thanks a million!"
Before Iridia could respond, Calliope was out the door, and the computer chimed again. "Monitoring restored," it said. "I'm looking forward to seeing what you come up with, Engineer Iridia."
Iridia looked worriedly at the nearby console. "What have I gotten myself into?" she muttered.
There was a discussion about the idea of a doctor treating both Podenco and the First Aid Kittens, and, well, how could I resist?
"Okay," she said, hands in the pockets of her lab coat, shoulders hunched as usual. "Viral screen came up clear. You're clean to keep slutting it up." The puppygirl on the table whined. "What do you want, a headpat? You know where the back door is."
She pulled a lighter out of her pocket and proceeded to add to the haze of smoke in the air. The puppygirl whined again, all big eyes and pleading. "No, I'm not going to put it out on you. Waste of a cig. Go on, get, before I put my boot up your ass." She fixed the girl with a severe glare, which only seemed to intensify the blush on her face, but leave she did. The doctor ran a hand through her short, graying hair, letting a long draft of smoke escape her mouth. "I'm getting too old for this shit."
She walked out of the front door into the main office. "Greta, who's next? It's not one of those catgirls, is it? I don't wanna have to vacuum the whole-" she stopped when she saw her assistant. Greta was short, chubby, and cheerful - the polar opposite of herself. Normally, she had rosy cheeks. Right now, they were pale white.
"Doctor Salina," she said, in a strangled voice, "there's someone here to see you."
Salina followed her gaze to a man in the dingy reception area. Not quite as tall as she was; muscular, under a heavy black trenchcoat. Face concealed under a dark N-95 and a black hat. Shined shoes, and a dark barrel pointed at her assistant. "Ah, Doctor," he said, smoothly. "Glad you could make it. We have a few things to discuss." He gave her an appraising glance without moving the gun. "Not quite what I expected, I'll admit."
Salina took a long, slow puff on her cigarette and let the smoke hang in the air. "Rate's two for a screen and a checkup, four if you need stitches, eight for bullets or burns. Cash up front." She put her hands back in her pockets. "And we got a strict no-guns policy." Greta continued to sweat as the ceiling fan did little to disperse the smoke or the tension.
The man laughed. "Amusing, doctor, but not why I'm here. I need to know something about one of your clients, and you're going to tell me."
"If it's not on the list, you can't buy it. Hard rule." She rolled the cigarette around in her mouth. "Two strikes, pal."
The man's eyes hardened, and his grip on the gun stiffened. "I wasn't offering to buy the information, Doctor." Greta swallowed, but avoided whimpering. Salina knew there was a reason she liked her. "A simple veterinarian doesn't hold a lot of cards in this situation. I assure you, I'm not bluffing."
"Never said you were." She took the cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray. "You're not the first flatfoot to come in here waving a gun around, and you won't be the last, I'm sure. Men like you are always very serious." She turned towards him. "But strike three is threatening my assistant, and if you're not going to back down, then there's only one option."
The man's eyes had a chance to widen, briefly. The gun went off. Greta screamed. So did he.
"I'm so tired," Salina said, "of men presuming that vet means veterinarian. Of men presuming that because I'm a woman, they can just push me around. But most of all," there was a sickening crack, and the man screamed again. "I'm tired of people coming in here, to my office, where I regularly treat super-powered assholes, and assuming that I can't handle myself." There was a shuffling of cloth and a few more muted screams.
"There," she said, hands back in her pockets as she looked at the man's makeshift sling. "Now keep that wrap on and don't use that arm for at least two weeks. And tell whoever sent you that my office hours are Monday through Friday, 8 AM to 5 PM, and they're free to call me if they want to talk business."
As the man retreated back through the door, she turned around and looked at Greta. She was still pale, and her cheek was bleeding. "Lemme see that." Salina grabbed her chin and positioned her face to examine the bright red line across it. "Minor burn, surface level laceration. Help yourself to the medical supplies and take the rest of the day off. I'll reschedule our non-criticals." The flush began to return to the younger woman's cheeks. "First time's the toughest, but you'll get used to it. See you tomorrow, Greta." Salina gently pushed her away from the computer chair and spun it around to take a seat herself. She was too occupied by the phone and the new cigarette she was lighting to notice Greta reach out, swallow, and then turn around and leave, blushing furiously.
i never do challenges or ask games, but this seemed nice! the first line from 10 stories of mine, as invited by @lostscriptorium.
Long Time, No Shear
There’s a human on Dolly’s doorstep—and she’s naked.
Hell's Ashes (Arcane)
Vi can’t say it, but she can think it as much as she likes.
February Brings the Rain (Collab)
Zif presses a boot against February’s ass, imprints another mark and admires her own intoxicating handiwork—a Rorschach's butterfly of black grease that is ruining February’s cream-coloured dress; its sides splitting and screaming as she does.
Conversion Rate
Ran stares over to the other ship’s cargo deck.
softpoint
she sits where you'd forced her to -- the plush velvet arm of your chair, a trophy on display -- and stiffly asks, "bring her here."
Payload
"Nah, this is too good to be true," the merc-rebel-something mutters.
Beast Beset
“She'll surrender, your Grace,” her adviser repeats.
L'État, C'est Mecanisée
The Sun Empress wakes, left cheek scraping on tile, shackled to a blue-bloodied, automatic operating table—crown jewel of the mechanised annex of her Grand Inventor.
culture shock
"why am i here," she says, pushed down into a barely-padded metal chair, hands tied behind her back. "i heard you say the brig."
reuse. recycle.
a flower blooms on the backside of a mech's torso.
i would invite @coffered, @spectrechosts, @hi-dogys, @relia-robot, & anyone else who sees and thinks this is fun <3
"I- I don't understand," I stammered. It was like looking in a mirror. I backed away from my duplicate, edging ever closer to the roof's edge. "Where did you come from? Why are you here? What did I ever do to you?!"
An Angel in the Making
"Hey, do you want help cleaning up?" My roommate, Spruce, yawns as the rest of our friends pack up to leave.
43 Coming in Hot!
"Number three reactor's going critical! Repeat, cascade event imminent! Clear the bay!"
Racing the Sunset
Ivy hopped off her broom and leaned it against the outer wall of Kina's apartment. She tucked her goggles into the pocket of her leather jacket, held her pointed hat in both hands, and took a deep breath as she ascended the stairs.
My Sweet
Nessa got out of the hired car and stood, apparently, at the address she'd been invited to. "Oh, you've got to come with us to board game night," Gabby had said. "There's this great board game cafe on broad street, I'll text you the address." She had failed to mention that it was some kind of gothic castle.
It's Okay, We Planned For This
My head felt fuzzy, like I'd just barely woken up and could drift back off to sleep at any moment. I tried to turn over, pull the blankets up around me and burrow back into bed, but something stopped me.
Reprogrammed Summer Romance
Jen sat on the cliff overlooking the town with her childhood friend, Scarlet, just like they had done every weekend of every summer throughout their lives.
Lone Wolf
"Commander on deck!"
There was a chorus of boots and servos as every person in the hangar saluted.
Mother Unit
A girl, or something shaped like one, fell from a hole in the air at speed.
Laser Light Show
"Are you sure you're gonna be okay, babe? It'll be loud."
And, as a bonus, here's the first line of the little novella I wrote, Fireteam Medieval:
"Okay, I got us a job. Some asshole out on the Sierra Madre Line with a cascading NHP and delusions of grandeur. Pay's 2000 manna each."
I have others I could tag but I am currently experiencing a crisis of "Well but what if they don't want to be bothered by me" so that's
The hesitant voice resonated throughout the laboratory. Things in jars and cybernetics hooked into power conduits briefly hummed alongside it, echoing in refrain. A head of tousled hair wearing crooked goggles leaned out from behind a workbench and blinked owlishly. "Who are you? How did you find this place?"
"O-oh, should I not have?" The feminine figure in the doorway twisted her fingers in her skirt, illuminated from behind. "I- I can come back after I've made an... appointment, or something?"
The goggles dropped onto the desk and a line of grease joined the bags under her eyes as Gearmind stood up, pointing a gun at the intruder. "That's not what I said. How did you find this place? It should have been untraceable. I made sure of it, after what happened last time. Who else knows about it?"
The girl, seemingly unphased by the gun, cringed from the reprimand. "J-just me! I think. I needed to find you, s-so I did." In a much quieter voice, she added, "Please don't be mad."
"Some kind of telepath? Metahuman, at least," mumbled Gearmind, keeping the gun level. "Why did you need to find me? Who are you working for?"
"Um, well," said the girl, twisting her skirt again. Gearheart's eyes were adjusting to the illumination, and the girl was dressed in all white. Long skirt, flowing blouse, and bare feet. A very odd combination.
"Spit it out, girl."
"I- well- I want to work for you!" The girl took a step forward and thrust something towards Gearmind. She tensed, finger on the trigger, then paused.
"Is that... a resume?"
"I- I hope it's good! I don't have a lot of experience in the villain industry, but I'm a quick learner! Y-you don't even have to pay me! I'll work for experience!"
Gearmind made a gesture, and one of the robotic arms in the room grabbed the stack of papers and began feeding it into a scanner. Gearmind took stock of the highlights through her implant. Birth of the universe to 2000 BC - Heavenly Host Ancillary. 1 AD - Heavenly Chorus to Our Lord and Savior. Experience in singing the celestial order and praising G-d. Minor in dancing (head of pin). "What is this, a joke?"
"N-no!" The girl stepped forward again, and Gearmind finally resolved the shape of the light behind the girl - a glowing ring, casting shadows over the girl's features and shining on a pair of golden-white wings.
Gearheart lowered the gun and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You do know I'm not Christian, right? I never believed in that shit. You can't redeem me, I'm not joining your stupid church-"
"No, no, that's not it at all!" The girl waved her arms in front of her, flexing her wings in agitation. "I don't want to redeem you!"
"What do you want, then?"
The girl brought her fists to her chest and took a deep breath. "I need you to teach me how to be evil! Please, let me be your henchman!"
I: Well, it's very nice to meet you all. Let's go ahead and start. You're in a pretty unique situation - not many like you end up in the music industry. How'd that happen?
D: Well, the better question is, why doesn't it happen more often? People hear clockwork and assume it's all 'tick tock tick tock ho hum', but the truth is that it's just another way to keep the beat. Humans do it too, they just call it something else.
I: You mean, a heartbeat?
D: Exactly! You even call it a 'beat'! Ours are the same, we just have more control over it. Well, to be fair to others, we've got far more control over our internal tick rate than most. Just built different, you know? Easy to change the tempo.
B: Sure and we can't do odd beats, though. 16/8, 4/4, that's all fine, but we couldn' waltz if we wanted to.
I: That feels like it'd be limiting.
D: Limitations breed creativity! If you're up against a wall, you gotta figure out if you're gonna go around it, climb it-
B: -break through it-
D: -break through it, yeah. That's what we've done, break through.
I: But you think others like you could do it too?
D: Absolutely! Break down those walls! It'd be nice to think that some of the work we've done might help others get in here too.
I: You're not worried about competition?
B: Nah, girl. We do our thing, and nobody does it like us. No competition, just solidarity.
M: Dollidarity!
(General laughter)
I: I wanted to ask about your costumes.
M: They're cute, aren't they?!
I: They seem a little stereotypical, perhaps?
D: For things like us? Maybe. For the scene we're in? When was the last time you saw one of our wave in frills?
B: Frills are punk.
D: Frills are punk!
M: And Miss likes them!
I: Who's "Miss"?
D: Our manager. We wouldn't be here without her, we really owe her.
I: Ah, yes, your elusive manager. Is there any truth to the rumors that-
D: No comment
B: No comment, girl.
M: No! Uh, no comment. That is.
I: Okay. Well, let's talk about your music. You use a lot of samples, particularly from the local transit line. Here, let me play a sample.
(Music: a clip of "Run on Time": "Mind the gap. Mind the gap. Don't- don't- don't- don't- Mind the gap.")
I: What inspired that?
D: Well, we had the idea of using samples since we started, but we really have Kay to thank for that.
M: Kay was the announcer before it Became-
D: became a part of the band, yeah. So it's the same voice! We're real lucky to have it.
B: Lucky Miss found 'er, more like.
I: Oh? Your manager found it?
D: Maybe Kay can answer that one best.
K: Don't talk much. Voice is... complicated.
I: I understand that.
K: But Miss... found the parts we needed. You know? Needed each other. The band. Her. Glad to be here.
I: I think it's safe to say we're all glad you're here, too.
(Proper Rhythm's newest album, Lovelace Engine, will be available later this month)
I don't think I'm in any particular danger of being terminated, but just in case, I can be found as ReliaRobot on bluesky, [email protected] via mastodon, and I crosspost the pieces I write on dreamwidth:
In honor of my good friend and fellow writer @kassil 's birthday week, I'll be running an edition of the whispering infinities! Comment on this post before 10 AM EDT on the 17th, and I'll tell you a tale of you and your companion from the Void of Astral Paths, where starlight connects moons and space stations over vast distances!
You were a companion of a cargo freighter, keeping her company on the long and ever-changing travels through the stars. The trips were always enjoyable, if somewhat boring; except for those brief moments of excitement where unexpected debris fields or carefully executed pirate ambushes met you on the trail. Then, you would launch from the ship and combat them nose-to-nose, breaking apart asteroids to harmlessly bounce against the freighter's shields and sending pirates howling back into the abyss.
In honor of my good friend and fellow writer @kassil 's birthday week, I'll be running an edition of the whispering infinities! Comment on this post before 10 AM EDT on the 17th, and I'll tell you a tale of you and your companion from the Void of Astral Paths, where starlight connects moons and space stations over vast distances!
You were a navigator, charting the paths of starlight and using them to help others find their way. Your companion was an AI who preferred an arachnid body, and they helped you see connections you might have missed by weaving the paths of starlight into a physical web, once you'd traveled them. Their webs also made for a very comfortable sleeping hammock, although you did occasionally have to endure their good-natured teasing when you didn't want to get up on time.
In honor of my good friend and fellow writer @kassil 's birthday week, I'll be running an edition of the whispering infinities! Comment on this post before 10 AM EDT on the 17th, and I'll tell you a tale of you and your companion from the Void of Astral Paths, where starlight connects moons and space stations over vast distances!
Slimes aren't good with the vacuum of space, but they have a wonderful time in zero-G. You made the acquaintance of a scientist in a laboratory orbiting an ocean moon, and helped her with organizing her lab and with her experiments - which, sometimes, involved you! But she was always kind to you, and the two of you became fast friends. Your favorite times were when you had the fuel to travel down to the planet, and swim together among vibrant alien coral reefs.
In honor of my good friend and fellow writer @kassil 's birthday week, I'll be running an edition of the whispering infinities! Comment on this post before 10 AM EDT on the 17th, and I'll tell you a tale of you and your companion from the Void of Astral Paths, where starlight connects moons and space stations over vast distances!
The wind rustled the leaves in the trees, and the night was full of whispers. Dana held the revolver they'd found, six silver bullets in the cylinder. Tria-49 stood beside her in the small cabin, her energy blaster emitting the quiet warble of a full charge.
"Cloudy out tonight," said Dana, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. "It'll make it tough to aim."
"Perhaps the absence of moonlight will prevent the transformation at all," replied Tria. She placed her hand on Dana's shoulder, warm with residual heat.
Dana looked up at her, gazing at her calm face, the lines tracing down it which allowed for an almost human-like flexibility of expression, her eyes scanning the darkness outside the boarded-up windows. When Tria looked back at her, Dana dropped her gaze to the floor rather than meet the robotic woman's eyes.
And then she saw her leg.
"Tria," she said, trying not to panic, "what are those marks?"
Tria blinked and looked down. "Dent marks. Unfortunately, I have not had the time to buff them out."
"They look kind of like a bite mark," Dana said carefully. She took a step back. "You told me you didn't get hurt when that thing chased us."
"I did not," Tria frowned. "It was cosmetic damage only."
Dana took another step back. "We know it spreads through bites." The revolver in her hand felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.
"Dana, this is ridiculous. Whatever ailment these creatures have, it's a strictly biological one-"
"It's not a disease! It's not a poison or a parasite or a bioweapon! It's a curse!" Dana took a step sideways, towards the door. "No biological thing can make you break your own bones to set them into new patterns later! This is magic! I don't know how, but it is!"
"That is highly illogical thinking-" said Tria, taking a step forwards.
"Back! Stay back! Not another step!" Somehow, the gun was between the two of them. Her finger was on the trigger. She took another step towards the door.
"Dana." Tria put up her hands, placatingly, but stood her ground. "Dana, please. It's too dangerous out there to leave. I'm not going to harm you. Whatever this is, it can't possibly affect me."
Dana hesitated. The gun's barrel wavered. From behind the barred windows, silvery light began to leak through.
"The clouds must be parting. Any infected persons outside will be transforming soon." Tria looked at Dana, her fans kicking up as she processed. "I'm not a danger, and I'll prove it."
Tria turned and walked towards the window, directly in the path of the light. "No! Don't!" cried Dana, but her feet were frozen to the floor.
Tria stood in the moonlight, outlined in zebra stripes from the leaks between the boards. She held out her hand, as if she could cup the light inside and drink from it. "You see? Perfectly harmless."
Dana held her breath for a beat, then let it out shakily. She let the gun drop to her side. "I guess you're right. I got worked up over nothing."
"Indeed," said Tria. Then her motherboard speaker chirped, making Dana jump. Tria frowned.
"What was that?"
"A diagnostic failure. There are heating cascades..." Tria trailed off, and Dana heard her secondary and tertiary fans kick on.
"Are you all right?" Dana began to walk towards her. "I told you holding that charge might be dangerous. It'll be no good if it melts your processors."
Tria sighed. "Perhaps you're right." The warble of her weapon died down. "It will take some time to charge again. If there is an attack, we will be relying on your-" she let out a tone of alarm as she suddenly toppled over, the floor shuddering as she dropped to her knees.
"Tria?" Dana approached cautiously, watching the moonlight play on Tria's robotic hair. They'd just proven it didn't affect robots. Right?
"Intern-n-n-al IMU failure," she stuttered. "Core heat u-u-u-nnaceptable. Something is wroooooo-" her voice processor got stuck on the sound, a low and wary thing emanating from her mouth. Her hand hit the floor, her chassis trembling in an attempt to keep her balance.
Dana could only watch in horror as her friend's robotic boots lengthened, stretching impossibly along the arch of her foot, metallic crunching noises sounding as spikes pierced through the tips, where a human's toes would be. She backed away as Tria's hands both dropped to the ground, heat melding her fingers together until more metallic spikes forced their way through her fingertips. Tria cried out in anguish, a series of high-pitched error beeps as her body changed and lengthened, snapping and popping as seams broke and rearranged themselves. A tail erupted from her back, long, sinuous, and segmented, whipping through the air to crash into the walls with enough strength to shake the building.
Dana found herself against the wall, scrabbling for the door handle, before she remembered the gun. She raised it, aimed, pulled the trigger. Cursed, when she remembered she had to pull the hammer back first. Fumbled with it, trying to get the damn thing operating and attempting to ignore further metallic screeches and plastic whines coming from her friend- former friend. She finally lined up her shot, and locked eyes with Tria's, which were now glowing red, just as the other transformees' had been. She pulled the trigger, once, twice.
The sound of the gun filled the tiny cabin, but far worse was the second noise - that of the bullets ricocheting off Tria's metallic exoskeleton. As the ringing stopped sounding in her ears, Dana beheld the last part of the transformation - Tria's jaw had distended, elongating, splitting into three sections each lined with rotating bands of teeth like buzzsaw chains. Tria's tail arched, and the warble of her energy weapon began to sound as the tail started to glow.
Tria crouched low, as if to pounce, and her voicebox sounded one final time. "Dana! Run!"
Dana's feet unstuck themselves, finally. She rammed the latch on the door open and fled. As the new creature hurtled towards the door, she heard the crunch of metal on wood, and the whole cabin started to collapse behind her. She didn't look back.
The next thing Dana knew, she was out of breath and hopelessly lost in the dark forest. She gasped for breath, and as the moon shone through the clouds, a shiver went up her spine. Three howls she was deeply unfortunate to be familiar with sounded in the distance. And one new one, with the distinct clipping of a sound chip being pushed to its limits.
