Life's a Carnival and then you die - Chapter 1

GM: TeeJay
Players: Katral, TeeJay
Synopsis: Katral and TeeJay seek out assistance from friends in the underground and get a surprise mission.
Date: 2084-05-28

To The Carnival

It's pouring, as it has been for the past forty-eight hours, the sky a relentless faucet drowning the city in a grim, gray downpour. Katral and TeeJay trudge through the deluge, their boots splashing through puddles that reflect what can be seen of the the dull, smog-choked sky. The rain, at least, has the decency to wash away some of the choking smog, but the mixture that runs down the gutters is a toxic cocktail you wouldn't want on your skin for long. Their journey towards their entry to the underground is uneventful, the car eating up the wet miles until they reach their destination: the looming skeleton of a once-great shopping mall.

The mall, a relic of a bygone era, stands as a grim reminder of a time when such structures were symbols of progress and promise. Now, it's a shattered husk, a glass and steel skeleton with only a few dirty, cracked panels remaining intact. The rain pours through the broken dome that once collected the light for the levels below, creating a symphony of drips and echoes as it falls onto the decaying floors below. The mall's concentric circular galleries that descend from ground level downwards, once bustling with life and commerce, now spiral downwards like a high-tech crater, a maze of rubble and shadows.

Katral and TeeJay pick their way carefully down the levels, the once-pristine escalators now motionless and covered in grit and debris. The upper galleries show signs of squatter activity; makeshift homes have been carved out of the old stores, their new inhabitants watching the runners with a mix of curiosity and wariness as they pass. The lower they descend, the sparser the light becomes, the air growing colder and more stale.

TeeJay, unusually, is dressed for the occasion. She wears a form-fitting jumpsuit, a coat layered on top to ward off the chill and conceal the MP strapped to her thigh. Her backpack, slung over one shoulder, contains a collection of essentials: supplies, tools, spare batteries, and a remote control deck to recall her car. A spotlight, already switched on, cuts through the gloom, casting long, dancing shadows on the decaying walls.

"Watch your step here," TeeJay warns Katral, her voice echoing slightly in the vast, empty space. "There's scrap metal everywhere. This place… it's seen better days, that's for sure." Her beam sweeps across the gallery, illuminating the decay and the remnants of a once-thriving hub of activity. "Let's keep moving. We've got a ways to go…"

Wishing he'd brought an umbrella, Katral adjusts the upper rim of his coat, despite the fact they are ostensibly "inside", he does as he is instructed when it comes to the stepping. He's brought some bags with him, one with his cyberdeck, another holding various kits and light supplies for the journey. He's brought his guns, tucked under his coat in holsters, though he has no idea if he'll have to use them. One would think that he'd have a grim look on his face, but instead he simply smiles at the dripping water. Somehow, it must be soothing for the decker to hear the sounds of dripping water, perhaps reminding him of his own luxurious bath setup back home, or some childhood memory of a waterfall or a fun rainy day jumping in puddles. He's got his sunglasses on, so he's probably seeing rather well overall. Just as long as her flashlight doesn't flash him TOO hard. "And let me guess, buncha old needles, right?" Not that true heroin is as big a thing these days, but its sure to stick around in some older places such as these. "I'll try to keep my toe-stubbing to a minimum."

TeeJay rounds a jagged mound of shattered concrete and twisted rebar, her boots crunching on the debris-strewn floor. She mutters under her breath, "Yeah… I'm not unhappy for some layers of protection here… even if it feels… slightly unfamiliar." Her recent wardrobe choices have leaned more towards revealed skin, but today she's wrapped in a function-over form. She halts abruptly, her spotlight cutting through the gloom to illuminate the entrance to "Woodland Wild," a relic of a bygone era when flannel shirts and jeans were the height of fashion. The storefront, though faded and cracked, still bears the remnants of its former glory, with faded mannequins and faded logos that speak to the past. Beyond the shattered glass, the store stretches deep into the mall, shelves upon shelves that once held clothing and gear swallowing what little light manages to penetrate the decaying structure. Some shelves have collapsed, creating what almost looks like a maze that stretches endlessly into the darkness. "Yah… I think this one might be it…", she says, her voice a low rumble as she ponders aloud, her eyes scanning the depths of the store, trying to penetrate the inky blackness that seems to absorb all light and hope.

"You sure? Looks like any other abandoned set of stores to me." He doesn't quite object, he's just making sure himself. He doesn't look too worried about the impending entry into what might be an inadvertent trap, but he does make very sure that Teejay isn't going to be gobbled up by a random cockatrice making this place its home. "Better yet, do you remember how to get out? I do, thanks to my 'ware, but we're probably gonna lose GPS again down there, if we try relying on it." He well remembers their trip down to meet her dad and sister, and this might be quite a bit lenghtier. He settles on his haunches, and starts adjusting the straps on his own boots, making sure nothing gets stuck in there or gets a chance to flood in should the rainwater have gathered somewhere nearby.

TeeJay, her neon-blue hair stark against the gloom, fixes Katral with a gaze that's equal parts amusement and challenge. "What happened to your unwavering trust in me, Kat?" she retorts, one eyebrow arched in a silent dare. She holds his gaze for a moment, letting the weight of her words hang in the air, before a slight chuckle escapes her lips. She jerks her head towards the yawning maw of "Woodland Wild," her spotlight casting eerie shadows on the decaying interior. "Come on, master. Don't tell me you're afraid of a little darkness." The store, once a beacon of outdoor fashion, now lies in ruins. TeeJay steps over fallen beams, her boots crunching on the shattered remains of what was once a display window. She leads them deeper into the store, her spotlight cutting through the inky blackness, illuminating the devastation. A section of the floor has given way, revealing a sheer drop into darkness, a ferroconcrete slab jutting out like a tongue, inviting them to descend into the heart of the mall's decay. She pauses at the edge, turning to Katral with a smirk.

Katral keeps his hand near his gun. He loves the dark, not that he was molded in it or anything, but why not let her believe for a moment that he doesn't? "Yeah yeah, I'm coming. Don't worry, I can handle a little danger. Wouldn't be alive today if I couldn't." He steps after her, peering past her to check for any invitations she might have missed. He switches between his various visual modes, tapping the side of his glasses to do so, then looks back towards her once he's done. "Anything you need to do once we get to them? Special handshakes, rituals under a full moon or the like?" He's obviously exaggerating, but it probably doesn't matter much. Better to be safe than sorry. "So, got any rope? Or are ya secretly a shaman that can cast something to help us drop safer?"

"Nah, you just be nothing like yer revolting self, that should do the trick…", she tells him, hopefull in jest, adding an ominous "… and don't step on any ducks…" as she walks up to where that 'tongue' of ferrocrete leans against the edge of that hole in the floor. "It's just down here…" Said 'tongue' has a slope that might just allow to step down along it, albeit carefully, into the darkness below, if one trusts the promise of structural integrity amidst a building that's proven that no integrity lasts forever. Her flashlight points into the dark below, revealing that all in all, it's merely a three meter drop until there's a semblance of a floor, mostly comprised of the remnants of what used to be THIS floor.

He follows along, taking dainty steps better befitting a ballerina. Mainly liking to keep on his toes, literally and figuratively. "I would never step on any ducks. Well, unless they asked me to. I've met some rather interesting animal-morphs over the years, none too many of them being shapeshifters. Bet that's nothing you ever heard about before… and I'll try to be on my best behavior. No promises though, if you've been holding out on some really hot freaks." He probably shouldn't use that word down here. He might not have the right. Stepping along, he adds: "I presume you left them on good terms. Would hate to come down here knowing you owe them for last time."

TeeJay clenches her teeth. "Yeah… about THAT…", she gives a small wince. "Well, I… yeah, it was good-ish terms. There was some grumbling about damage done to some structures… but at least I don't REMEMBER any human… or human'ish casualties." She stops in her tracks down along that ferroconcrete ledge, pondering. Then, she waves a hand dismissively. "Ah, all will be good. They're nice people. Nice people are forgiving, right?" And thus said, she goes on to descend to the next level, jumping off the last few feet, even though that might not be the wisest idea one could have given the disarray of rubble there. Her flashlight sweeps around. And from this section of still rather concrete-based structure, it seems that some semi-natural, semi-dug out tunnel descends deeper into the ground, a minimal breeze cold chilly air with an earthy smell seeming to come from that opening, proving that whatever is down there is not just a small cavern, but likely some bigger maze of tunnels.

"They sure are forgiving. Too bad neither of us are nice people." Katral admits, adjusting his collar again. He does NOT jump the last few steps, instead making very sure he doesn't step out of his way onto some secret boobytrap. He takes in the smell of the earthiness around him, then steps on to follow her. "We'll assuage their worries, and hopefully we got something to trade they want. Or can acquire. Might be we get to do some hooding, before the day is done. Or at least some electric work, if their setup's been flooded." He steps along, looking around the place precariously one last time, before steeling his heart, ready to enter the belly of the Beast. "Time to go knockin'."

TeeJay nudges her head, and she flares her torchlight down the tunnel, indicating for him to follow as she makes her way along a tunnel through earth and gravel. "Oh, I am good people… most of the time…", she notes, ponders for a moment, then adds a slightly indecisive shrug. It is not long before this dug-out tunnel breaks through the wall of what quickly becomes evident as a long defunct subway tunnel. Easy to discern as defunct for those rails would in their current state certainly not sustain anything resembling a train in the slightest.

Katral moves on ahead of her, checking the surrounding areas as they go. Maybe he should let her move on ahead, since she's leading him and has the flashlight, but it isn't as if he REALLY needs it. "So, any nice ghouls around here, or is this more of a cockatrice or devilrat kinda area?" He looks about and looks genuinely curious, rather than afraid of anything that might crawl out of the woodwork. "Or just the type of place where you might run into the homeless selling old disc media or the like?" He perks his ears, trying to hear most anything over the dripping and other flooding.

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The petite woman in lead just shrugs. "Might be either… not sure anyone knows everything that's going on under the city. It's like a world of its own… and a wilderness of its own kind." For a moment, maybe prompted by his question, she stops in her tracks, perks her ears. Listens to the pressing silence that only carries faint distorted sounds from far away. She pushes forward her bottom lip. "Nah… seems like we're catching a quiet day…", she concludes. She gives both directions of the tunnel a short glance, then makes up her mind, to head up one direction. "This way… if… memory serves…"
Katral is taking internal memorandums on the ways they go, and the way Teejay moves. The latter mainly because he never gets tired of seeing her ass shake as she moves. The former, because if things go sideway, he needs to be able to head back with Teejay in tow, and her memory seems a bit fractured at the moment. "Good to hear. Maybe we'll even meet some equally friendly neighbors of your old buddies. Might be a whole extended community down here and they just never really interacted before."

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Ratatouille

There's the slight sound of many feet on the ground to be heard coming from… somewhere. One might be saying it's the tapping of small feet, but those small feet don't sound all that small. The direction is hard to make out, but the sound is indeed getting louder.

Katral puts his hand to his hidden laser, sliding up to the side of the wall he's nearest to. He raises his other hand, like a SWAT member trying to give a hold-up sign, then looks to Teejay. "Hear that?" he asks, lower than normal so as to not be immediately caught out in having figured out they might be tracked, or at least, tracking someone. "Hearing… something. Movement?" he asks, to confirm with her what he's gotten perceived.

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TeeJay stops, eyes Katral with a slight vibe of confusion for a moment, tho the exact play of her facial muscles is partly obscured by the darkness around them, only the cones of the flashlights providing a source of light to make out shapes down here. Noone has bothered installing overhead lighting in these tunnels. She stops tho, perks her ears once more, finally nodding. "Yep… now I hear it, too…", she notes, instantly shifting her flashlight to her left and reaching down for the MP on her thigh.

Katral puts his hand under his coat, holding onto the gun. He's not going to draw it just yet, because it might just be one of the aforementioned freaks on a stroll. "Sound familiar in any way?" he asks, while edging towards the source of the sound, stealthily trying to make his way there without attracting whatever-it-is's attention.

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The tiptoeing stops, resumes, stops, resumes. And as it comes closer, there's the distinct sound of sniffling and soft squeaks. While Katral is trying to cower deep into the side of the wall, the cone of light coming from TJ's flashlight gives away her position quite well on the one hand, while on the other hand allowing them to see the silhouette of something about two feet high peeling out of the dark. Followed by yet another and one more. As one of them rises to its hind legs, sniffling, it becomes clear that Katral's dream has finally come true, and he gets to get to know a couple of devil rats in person. And of course, it's the old game of 'if you can see them, they can see you'. Having finally set their eyes on two yummy treats to fill their hungry stomachs, they begin to scuttle towards the runners, and as if things weren't bad enough, a fourth comes scuttling right behind them.

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Katral pulls out his uzi, changing his mind at the last minute. Poor rats, they don't deserve getting blasted like this. If only he'd thought to bring gel rounds, their explosive fate could be avoided. He fires, not really having time to aim as he draws his gun at the last minute. Let's hope they're easily deterred. He's got an affinity for new pets, after all.

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Katral moves back after firing, walking backwards so as not to trip over himself with a loaded firearm, keeping it aimed at the rats that are encroaching. Still too dark to get a clear shot…

Katral firing on instinct, rather than preparing to aim and fire like a smart person might, he still manages to put several bullets into the gigantic rat he targeted. Somehow, its still alive, despite being lightly riddled with bullets. Probably from being such a small target, the bullets mostly grazing it.

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TeeJay watches the rats scrabble over towards her master as fast as their small feet carry them, fighting down the disgust at these far-too-large specimen of an actually cute species. She brings her flashlight close to her gun, like seen in all those great action movies, and puts a finger onto the trigger of her Steyr TMP, bringing forth a bright green beam that cuts through the darkness to lock onto that first rat and crossing with the decker's aiming aid. She'll not have them take a bite out of Katral, so with a further pull of her finger, she lets a series of bullets follow that guiding line, splashing into the body of the already limping rat, ending the creature's miserable life and leaving it as food for yet the next scavenging creature. The second burst from her gun goes amiss, wide, bullets spraying up dirt from the floor as the remaining rats intensify their chase of their target. To get a piece of decker between their sharp teeth.

Katral takes up a new position that looks moderately defensible, aims, then fires his uzi in a second burst, to hopefully take out a second rat. Or at least badly wound one. His heart bleeds for the little critters, but it must be done.

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The decker fires off another burst, steadied as he goes in his new position. A stray hair flits into his eye juuust as he's about to fire, and the rat takes its chance to weave and bob, its own fur not giving it any such issues. Still, he manages to get some nasty hits in, leaving the rat bleeding like its other counterpart, and presumably, still in the fight.

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Katral preps his smg, having expended quite some ammo already, but alas, there's more ratmurder to be done.

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Katral is a consumate professional. Sometimes. He's got the firing down, and he manages to absolutely explode one of the unlucky rats with a quick burst, followed by a single shot as the recoil starts climbing, wounding the next rat in line as his ammo clips its back. Its not paralyzed, but probably bleeding profusely. He doesn't really flinch this time, his erstwhile hair having been kept away by a light movement to the side. Hence why he stays in place. He may need to eviscerate more of the little buggers, after all.

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Flick, snap. Click, then click again. All the sounds Kat produces on his own, as he resets, retargets, and fires again, the small firearm steadied in his hand as he makes it fire again and again at the poor little creatures. He'll need to make sure to adopt its surviving little ones if he's to make up for all this lost karma.

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His shoulder is starting to hurt from firing so much, but he's got this. Mostly. The first rat gets a nasty blast, but not enough to take it down, dribbling blood that may or may not be VITAS-infected. The second just bleeds, and drops, dead as a doornail from his attack, adding to the litter of corpses they've left in their wake. They aren't quite safe yet.

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With rats dropping one by one, TJ keeps her trigger finger down. She knows the rat will be close to her master within no time. And she will not let that happen, sealing off the little distance that keeps the oversized rodent from her companion with a wall of bullets. Most of which just keep whizzing by the animal. It's only one that actually makes the difference. One amongst many that all were sent out with the same mission. One that pierces into the little body, finally taking the remaining energy out of the already worn down creature which unceremoniously comes to rest as its legs give out underneath it, leaving it lying in a slowly spreading pool of blood, its final squeals unheard under the thundering sound of the gunshots that seem to ring forever in the confined space of the tunnels.

Katral goes into soldier mode. There's a reason he's a Combat Decker, after all. Flips his gun, ejects the mag, replaces it immediately, pops it in and mantles the first round. He then lifts the weapon again, pointing it towards the area where the rats came from. Holding there for a few seconds, before his arms start to tire. "Hear anything else?" he asks, slowly letting the small weapon drop its aim towards the floor. Then, he breathes, possibly for the first time since the fight started.

"WHAT?", shouts TJ, looking at Katral and his professional stance and demeanour after downing that last rat. Her ears are obviously still ringing. Understandably so. Sound supressors might also be good for your own health in these confined environments. She steps up closer to him, her voice far too loud for the proximity. "I canna hear a thing… nasty little chompers…" Looking down at the bleeding heaps of rat-meat, she wrinkles her nose. "Seems like any cute creature becomes un-cute if they grow too much, eh?"

"Speak for yourself. These are plenty cute. Less so now we had to kill them. But…don't touch them, anyway. Leave them for the rest of them to eat. Trust me, if they're hungry enough, they'll go that far." He sighs, then holsters his weapon fully, dusting himself off from any leftover gunpowder residue stuck to his big longcoat. Gonna have to clean that one. "Next time, I'm gonna bring stun grenades. At least then we know we can take out a big group without any extra explosions of old wiring or the like."

TeeJay gives Katral some odd look. How could he find those creatures cute. If his measure of cuteness is so twisted, should she question herself and their relation? She blinks. Shrugs, more to herself than to him. "Next time, I'm really gonna need to get my eyes fixed if I go on more shit with you. Seems like we're only workin' in the dark for some freakish reason. Can't we just go somewhere in broad daylight for a change?" She huffs, but doesn't wait for an answer as she turns back to the direction she was intended on heading, idly removing the magazine from her gun and replacing it with a new one as she walks, then carries the pistol for a little to let its barrel cool down before placing it back to her thigh. "Now… don't keep standing there like a pillar of salt… we've got places to go, neh?"

"Right you are. Better get a move-on, before they start eating your cute ass." he says, moving up to her to give it a swat. Playful, barely audible to any playing rats that might be listening. "Lead the way, and try not to get yourself bit by anything. We got ghouls a bit ago, now rats, gotta be dragons next."

TeeJay eyes back over her shoulder at the man walking behind her in the dark, while the cone of her flashlight illuminates the path in front of her, only its reflections throwing a diffuse light on Katral behind her. "Yer sayin' my ass is too big, yes?", she challenges him before turning back to focus on the path before her. "Well… we're getting nasties, that seems to be a constant… I blame it on you. If it were for me, we'd get cute things coming after us. Like pink ponies… unicorns… bunnies… you get the gist…" And with those words ringing out, she leads her master deeper into the belly of the beast. Along the subway tracks, towards the Carnival.

"Cute things? I don't think that fits your style. You'd be more into… some nasty kind of landshark." he expounds, flipping over his vision to thermographic for a second as he looks around for any possible invisible ponies that may be eating human flesh. "At least we've got a straight line now, going by these tracks. Unless that's just part of the way they get ya. You never properly said if they like to snatch us slightly less weird people for eating, or selling. Or chopping into bits. Betting we'd have a lot of notes to be taking and sharing." He's making mental notes too, of all the little things they'll need to bring next time they go on an excursion.

TeeJay chuckles. "Now you got my master plan revealed. I was planning on luring you into their cooking pot. They just love decker-stew…", the petite rigger gal teases, wiggling her behind at him as she continues up along the tracks. At least THESE tunnels here are not as makeshift as those under the container yard were. This looks solid. Sturdy. If you disregard the missing pieces of ceiling and walls every now and then.

Off the tracks

She leads the way for a couple of hundred meters only, which in the dark seem quite a bit farther than they actually are, until they come past a breakthrough in the side wall. Not small and man-sized, but rather large enough to almost pass a train through, if the hole wasn't secured with bars, and a huge barred door in the center of it. They can see that hole in the wall from afar as they approach, for it actually has light inside, not anything resembling daylight, but a warm orange color. "We're almost there…", TJ notes as she sees just that light from the distance, her voice echoing on the walls as she talks.

Katral makes sure his uzi and laser are perfectly patted down, so as not to make it seem like he's actually there to start trouble. He looks at the place they're about to invade, if on friendly terms, and starts humming a light tune. This place is friendly-looking enough, for an armored fortress in the middle of the underground, why not fit the place with some joviality? "I hope they've got some leftover stew then. Always wondered what I tasted like. And no, that's not a euphemism. Well, it might be, but I don't have the joints for it."

TeeJay quirks a brow as she looks back at him. "Oh, but I can help with that for sure… Remind me to give you a taste of yerself next time…", she grins back at the decker as they keep walking up to that barred entry.

The hole in the wall is like four by four meters in size, and behind it, a dug out tunnel with remarkably smooth walls continues, slightly curved to the right and ascending. Four meters behind the bars, there's two barriers, large enough for a human to fit behind, and actually, there seems to be a human behind each of those barriers, an assault rifle in hand, pointed out towards the entrance. Surely, Katral's and TeeJay's shooting must have carried back over here, alerting those two that are obviously guards, their features hard to make out with the light coming from behind them, the glare of the latter making vision hard for people used to the dark outside.

It's only few moments after TeeJay steps into the directly illuminated area that one of the guards shouts out "Who are YOU? Whatcha want?"

"Don't recognize her? That figures, she's always going through changes. You'd think she would stand out by now." Katral retorts, probably not the most diplomatic way of putting this, but at least he isn't seeming overtly hostile. He's got his hands more or less up in a peaceful manner, looking for all the world like a drifter rather than a professional combat person or infiltration specialist.

TeeJay has her hands to her side in a passive way, too, to openly display no evil intent despite the MP that's strapped to her thigh. But it might seem that they've proven their need to carry weapons down here, and at least she's not coming armed to her teeth. "Hey… I'm TeeJay… haven't been around much lately… or… at all… but I've had biz in the past with ya fellas and… might have need for biz in the future… maybe… if you could take us to Skull-Poet, or Bucket… they might remember me…"

There's a long pause, filled only with the low hum of electricity and the distant dripping of condensation. Then, one of the guards shifts, his silhouette stepping out from behind the barrier with careful, deliberate movement. He's tall and wiry, his posture tense but not overtly hostile. The cavern light behind him gives a copper sheen to the matte-black of his armored vest, which bears crude patches and arcane glyphs scrawled in white paint. A pair of tusks jut from his lower lip, small but sharp, marking him as an orkSURGED further, judging by the faint shimmer of bioluminescent veins across his neck. The rifle in his hands lowers slightly, though he keeps it close. "Skull-Poet, huh? Yeah, we can get ya to him. He's always up for a chat, 'specially with familiar faces." He takes a long look at TeeJay, then Katral, his gaze assessing but not unfriendly, before he nods towards the tunnel. "Follow me. Keep your hands where we can see 'em." From behind his cover, he retrieves a key, an actual metal key, walks up to the door to unlock and open it.

Retro. Katral can dig it. He's never had a chance to be a proper lockpicker before, and as a decker, that's practically a crime in and of itself against nerd-kind. He studies the key, as much as one can from afar. "Sounds good. Your friend here never told me you had such a keen setup here. Well, she didn't tell me much of anything really, 'sides to follow her directions. Build all this yourself?" he asks, a bit too inquisitive for someone essentially held at gunpoint, but Kat's never been one to let anything bind his personality, much. He flips the thermals on his sunglasses off, then adjusts them so they aren't quite as tinted. He still keeps them on, for their other many uses.

The ork guard chuckles low in his throat, a dry, almost rasping sound that doesnt quite reach his glowing eyes. "Built it? Nah. Dug it. Bled for it. Was way more than one man's work… but everyone's carrying their weight around here…" He swings the heavy gate open with a grunt, the hinges groaning as though protesting the intrusion of outsiders. He steps aside just enough to let them through, but not enough to drop his guard. As the runners pass, his gaze lingers on Katral's glasses, just long enough to note them, then flicks back to TeeJay. "You'll find Carnival's changed since anyone's last memory of it. Most places do, down here. Just keep your steps light and your hands honest… don't stare… and don't step on the ducks…", he adds as he motions them forward with a tilt of his tusked chin, then falls in behind, rifle loose in his hands.

Katral curses his lack of foresight. If he only brought some bread to feed the ducks. He hasn't seen any in a Dog's age. He doesn't stare, as instructed, but he does look around, unable to maintain his curiosity. This place seems COOL. Kat's never been one for normalcy, despite his mostly normal shaggy looks before he got modded up. The bizarre, the odd, the strange, that's just the kind of thing he likes. "What do they get to eat? Grubs?" he asks, presumably meaning the ducks and not the orks. "Don't think I brought more than a rationbar." And that's mainly soy and soy-byproducts, laden with vitamins.

The guard leads the runners through the narrow tunnel, its walls unusually smooth, like it maybe wasn't only hands and shovels involved in the digging. The orange light behind them fades as they move forward, swallowed by the deeper shadows, and a new, brighter glow begins to pulse ahead. The air shifts, thick with the scent of earth and damp stone, mixed with something faintly metallic and sweetstrange, almost like the heavy aroma of brewing fungus. As they ascend the gently curving path, the darkness recedes and the cavern opens up before them in a sudden burst of color and sound.

They emerge into the Carnival - a sprawling underground settlement that feels more like an organic extension of the earth than a constructed space. The cavern is vast, stretching farther than one might expect, its ceiling held aloft by stone pillars and scaffolding made from salvaged metal. The walls are lined with makeshift homes, most constructed from repurposed shipping containers, some standing precariously atop one another like a child's forgotten toy fort. Overhead, an assembly of repurposed street lights flicker with dull light, casting fractured shadows across the uneven ground. Farther down, a large screen hangs from one of the cavern's walls, flashing fragments of imagery - clips from the surface world, flickering with static, offering brief glimpses of life above. The residents are scattered across the space, quiet figures who move with purpose but without haste, their eyes lingering on the newcomers. Their gazes are curious, sometimes amused, but never hostile. Each of them seems altered in some way, their bodies bearing the marks of the SURGE. Some have luminous patterns on their bodies, others sport an extra eye or limb, and a few even have animalistic features - a patchwork of humanity and mutation. The air hums with a quiet energy, a mix of whispered conversations and distant laughter.

As the runners move deeper into the heart of the Carnival, a sense of both isolation and community hangs in the air. There's vast free spaces, some tables with chairs and benches spread throughout it, and there even seems to be what looks like an open-air street food truck that now doesn't have to worry about bad weather killing its business. A few residents approach, offering silent nods or a brief wave, their expressions unreadable. Most don't speak, instead choosing to watch from the shadows, their eyes glinting with the light of bioluminescence or embedded optics. There's a quiet sense of camaraderie here, but also a lingering wariness. After all, they've likely learned to trust few, and even fewer outsiders. The guard doesn't break stride, his eyes scanning the crowd with practiced ease, leading the runners towards a a slightly secluded part near one of the walls, where the mysterious Skull-Poet is likely supposed to reside. The atmosphere feels charged, as if the very walls of the cavern are listening, waiting for something.

There are no ducks to be seen.

Katral had a place like this one, once. Well, he had the start of one. A small underground area connected to the sewers, where he was planning on doing all kinds of dirty deeds. Dried up, like a lot of his older plans, but he's sure the place is still there, somewhere. At least for now, he gets to see the sights. And strangely, he doesn't actually stare much if any at the people, but rather what they've built. While the place is built to keep people like him on edge, more or less, it just means he's a lot more interested in keeping his eyes peeled and seeing what he can see. The place is a real wonder, and he's keeping his hands behind his back, strolling around following his guide as he takes in the sight like some tourist. Entirely relaxed, much more than he was in the tunnels. This is civilization of a sort, after all.

"I forgot how great this place is…", TeeJay mutters as she walks through the cavern at Katral's side. One wall seems to have galleries on different levels that on closer inspection just are different levels of what once seems to have been an underground garage that's now incorporated into the whole constructs, featuring makeshift homes and shops on its different levels, with scaffolding walkways and stairs connecting them where previously existing staircases might be missing.

"You know, this place is neat. It's a proper sprawl, someplace people have built into on their own, rather than something made to fit a corpo urban plan to maximize profit from other corpos. Wonder what it'd take to sign up for a spot?" the decker asks, looking towards Teejay as they walk along. And keeping an odd eye out for missing staircases to tumble off.

The guard leads them through the carnival's bustling heart, slipping past crowds that murmur in hushed tones, their glowing eyes flicking toward the newcomers. They follow him down narrow, dimly lit alleys between stacked containers, their footsteps muffled on the gritty, uneven floor. The scent of cooking meat and unfamiliar spices mingles with the earthy dampness of the cavern, creating a curious mix of warmth and home. At the end of the alley, tucked behind a rusted shipping crate, a small campsite comes into viewtwo figures sitting around a crackling fire, their silhouettes flickering in the orange glow. The air here is quieter, the space more intimate, almost as though the rest of the carnival is a world away. The guard halts, gestures for the runners to pause, and steps forward with a respectful nod to the figures by the fire.

Cybernetic Rhymes

The figure 'sitting' closest to the fire is an odd sight. His body absent, his skull the only thing there is, perched upon a mobile life-support unit. The skull itself is unmistakable, a slick cybernetic creation with small, integrated datajack at its temple, a chipjacks visible on the back. Cybernetic eyes fill otherwise hollow sockets, and gleam with a cold, bioluminescent light, the occasional flicker of static dancing across the surface of its artificial eye lenses. The skull's jaw moves in a rhythmic, deliberate manner as it speaks, a voice resonating from what must be a speaker installed in the oral cavity, deep and mechanical, yet oddly melodic. "Ah, the data flows in ripples, so sweet, so neat… the chips, they dance, a wonderful treat!" The voice chuckles, a series of strange, metallic rasping sounds that seem to emanate from within the skull itself. Across from the skull, a lithe, wiry figure lounges on a folding chair, his face obscured by a scarf, but his posture relaxed and. He listens intently, nodding occasionally, as the skull-poet continues its cryptic monologue, the firelight casting flickering shadows across its shiny, chip-laden surface.

As the runners approach, the skull's attention shifts, its luminescent eyes locking onto TeeJay and Katral. The rhythmic motions of its jaw pause, and the voice takes on a more curious, almost amused tone. "Oh, what is this, a visitor's delight? Two guests who've wandered into the night?" The skull-poet's gaze scans the runners, its head tilting slightly to one side as it speaks, the words flowing in smooth rhyme. The atmosphere shifts from warm curiosity to cautious wariness, the air thick with unspoken questions as the few residents nearby take note of the new arrivals. Their eyes, glowing and unblinking, flick from TeeJay and Katral, sizing them up, but they remain silent, their curiosity tempered by a natural mistrust of outsiders. The guard steps back, crossing his arms as he watches the exchange, his expression unreadable but expectant. The fire crackles quietly as the skull-poet continues its strange greeting, its cybereyes flashing as it waits for the runners to speak.

Oh no, RHYMING. Katral loves the odd and strange, but he's never liked poets. Still, he isn't here to make friends with them specifically, but he is here to make friends in general, so he looks about for someplace to sit. It's been a long walk, after all. Though aside from the folding chair with the wirey figure, there doesn't seem to be much seating here. Probably isn't a lot of need for it, what with the skull and all, though he could make himself at home near the fire anyway. He is about to speak up, to try and match the person's rhyme, but realizes he'd be absolutely terrible at it, one of the few places the perfectionist decker REFUSES to grow.

TeeJay fetches one of a couple of other folding chairs leaning against a small table, chuckling as she sees Katral's reserved reaction to the Skull Poet's words. It might be dawning on her that he might have considered the name to have been an alias of some weird sort rather than a quite fitting description. Despite the skull's weird looks that might be offsetting a lot of people that get to see it for the first time, TeeJay seems to have brought that stage of struggling far behind her. She unfolds that chair, sets it down near the camp fire, and sits on it the wrong way around with her chest leaning against the chair's backrest. "Hey, Skull… dunno if you remember me, but I do hope. I'm TeeJay… remember all that unrest with the mana storm…", she suggests, trying to make her introduction without the demand to be recognized.

The skull-poet's cybereyes flicker with a pulse of recognition, the cold light deepening as it fixes its gaze on TeeJay. A low hum vibrates through the air, almost as if the skull itself is contemplating the strands of memory, connecting the dots of past encounters. Its jaw creaks into motion, and one might almost expect the rhythmic clatter of gears and wires accompanying its words. "Ah, yes, TeeJay, a name I recall, the storm's restless whispers, the clash, the fall. You've come again, with a friend in tow, but tell me, what brings you here below?" The voice dances with eerie warmth, despite the mechanical undertones, and a strange fondness echoes through the rhyme. The skull's eyes twitch slightly, then its luminescent gaze flicks toward Katral. "And who is this, with a gaze so keen? A drifter, perhaps, or something unseen?"

"A drifter is right, you've got it true. We just decided to drop in out of the blue." Oh god, now he's got him doing it. "Ehem. That is, me and the gal here came to give you a proposition of sorts, but I'd best leave the talking to her, or I might end up tripping over my… nevermind." Katral says, almost biting his tongue before he says shorts. "Lovely place ya got here. Never knew Denver held such sweet digs." He really does mean that last part, going by his looks. What he hates the most is things that are boring and samey, and nothing here, be it the people or the place, are.

The skull-poet's eyes flicker with an eerie light, the faint hum of circuitry filling the air as it stirs. A low, mechanical chuckle rumbles from within its hollow, metallic mouth, sending a shiver through the firelit space. The glow from the campfire dances across the polished surface of the skull. "Ah, I very much like your friend, you see" it pauses, its jaw moving in slow, deliberate motions, "such strange wit, a delight to me. But tell me true, is he your mate, or just another who shares your fate?" The skull's gaze flicks to Katral, its glowing eyes scanning him as if searching for some hidden truths. The tubes feeding crimson liquid into the skull's base pulse faintly, almost like veins under the skin, betraying the unsettling reality that this once may have been a person, now a fractured, peculiar existence. The rhythmic beat of the life-support system hums quietly in the background.

TeeJay's lips curl into a small, knowing smile as she looks back toward Katral, her colorful hair catching the flickering firelight. Her gaze softens for a brief moment as she studies him, watching the play of shadows across his face, then shifts back to the skull-poet. Her fingers absentmindedly trace the edge of her chair. She exhales softly, her voice low, warm. "Yeah… he's really my…" She hesitates, a brief flicker of uncertainty passing across her expression before she continues with firm resolve, "…mate." No reason to complicate things by adding yet another dimension to this situation. She lets the word linger in the air for a moment as the crackling flames rise and fall in time with her breath. After a brief pause, TeeJay shifts her posture, leaning slightly forward. "We're seeking help… My… sister… she's in a bad spot, and she needs somewhere safe, somewhere she can trust… a refuge she can turn to… something she could call a home… and I remembered how awesome you guys were…"

"My apologies if she hadn't mentioned her sister before. In all honesty, we also just had the pleasure of first visiting her floor." Nevermind that it is also below ground like here. "At the very least, she needs a place to stay while we get her lodgings in another place. Somewhere that befits her beauty and grace." He really is smitten, but then, he always is the moment a woman seems even remotely to be falling under his charms. He looks about the place, pondering if Aurora would even be happy here, would they accept her? Or be wary of her instead? He steps over to Teejay, placing a hand on her shoulder. The reason for which is unclear.

The skull-poet's glowing eyes flicker and pulse, its mechanical hum rising ever so slightly as it contemplates TeeJay's words. Its jaw creaks open again, but this time the rhythm of its speech slows, as though the weight of her request has caught it off guard. "Ah, a sister in need, a refuge to find," it muses, the voice flowing like a soft, distant melody. "You ask for shelter, for solace to bind, but such things are not given without a price, without a test, without the careful roll of the dice." The skull tilts its head, its eerily glowing eyes narrowing as it scans TeeJay intently. "But wait… Is she SURGEd, this sister of yours, altered by the spark, the SURGE's fierce force?" The words echo, charged with curiosity, as if the very answer could shift the course of the conversation. The air seems to thicken with the weight of its scrutiny. "For such a one, you see, changes the game, and what's offered is not the same."

TeeJay's fingers still, tracing the edge of the chair, her gaze growing distant for a moment as she wonders how to put things. A soft, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips. She swallows, the flicker of firelight dancing in her eyes as she meets the skull-poet's gaze once more. "No, she's not… not SURGE-turned," she begins, her voice steady, though there's an edge of unease there. "But… she has… changed." Her tone softens as she continues, the words heavier now. It takes another deep breath before she can really deep into the problem. "Aurora's a ghoul, a sentient one… She's still her, but everything about her's different. And… people… they hunt her for it." The air around her seems to hold still as she lets the silence stretch between them, revealing a -redacted- that she would still like to refute. That she still hasn't quite come accustomed to. "She needs somewhere safe, a place to hide, where no one will try to take her down."

The skull-poet's head moves ever so slightly, the servos in its neck whirring softly as its gaze deepens. That eerie flicker returns, but now it dances with gravity, not just theatrics. "A soul who walks in cursed skin… such mercy is no easy win." The cadence remains, but the weight behind it has sharpened, honed like a blade. "Though thought she holds, and mind remains, a ghoul still bears the hungers' chains. Infection, fear, the primal call… your sister walks a razor's wall." The tubes at its base pulse slowly, almost thoughtfully. Then, the skull swivels toward TeeJay and Katral both, voice gaining edge. "If refuge is what you truly seek, then earn the trust of freak and freak. The Carnival does not give for free; you'll prove your worth, or let it be." A faint crackle rises from within the hollow dome, and its jaw juts in a mockery of a grin. Then, more casually, almost conspiratorially, it adds with a metallic rasp, "Also… if you've data - chips or feeds -, I hunger still for stranger seeds." The request, slipped in like a secret itch, hums low in the charged air.

"A moment, if you please. We've got some jawing to do, to put our minds at ease." Katral says, almost grinding his teeth. He leans down and whispers in Teejay's ear "What about the Seraphim data? Think he'd bite?" he asks, given that's the only fresh data he's gotten into his possession in these later days. Other than the odd trid show he might have lodged in his deck, somewhere.

TeeJay tilts her head as Katral leans in, a soft huff of amusement escaping her nose at his whispered question. Her eyes gleam with cheek as she turns slightly toward him, lips quirking into a crooked grin. "Skull's not picky, he's just bored," she murmurs back, voice low but laced with fond amusement. "Give him anything newer than like a week old and he'll chew on it like a dog with a synthbone. Poor guy doesn't exactly get out much, y'know?" With a glance back at the skull-poet, she straightens, the firelight catching the metal threads woven into her jacket. "You've got anything recent, flashy, even half-interesting? It'll be a feast to him. And hey," she adds with a wink, "might grease the wheels while were at it."

"Well, not ON me no. I don't generally carry data on me like…" he stops, then turns to the skull. "Well, I generally don't carry that kinda stuff on my person but… how about I go find something that'll get your jaw to jut? Find me a datajack toot-sweet, and I'll get you both something that'll make you spin in your seat." He's confident, absolutely, that he'll manage to get all this done. He HAS decked from much stranger places than this before. And to be honest, its been a while since he got to stretch his proverbial wings.

Damsels in Distress

A blur of motion rips through the air as a girl bursts into view, her movements swift and erratic, panic in her eyes. Feathers sprout from her arms and shoulders, dark and glossy like crow's plumage, rustling as they flutter in a wild frenzy. Her back is adorned with a sprawling, black-and-silver tail, tipped with a sharp, spiked barb that lashes behind her, as if reacting to some unseen threat. From her forehead, two twisted horns rise. Her eyes, wide and frantic, are framed by a mess of dark, wind-blown hair, their color an unsettling mix of gold and amber. Clutched tightly in one hand is a cellphone. Her chest rises and falls with panicked breaths, and as she stumbles forward, her voice tears through the tension, raw and trembling. "They're killing her! They're killing her…" The words are almost strangled in her throat, desperation bleeding into every syllable, while the feathers on her arms bristle in agitation, the sharp tips of her tail twitching nervously. The air around her crackles with an unearthly energy, like the atmosphere itself recoiling from her presence.

The skull-poet's glowing eyes flicker rapidly, its thoughts suddenly disrupted by the spike of urgency. The head jerks slighty, towards the frantic girl with a sharp, unsettling jerk of its neck stump. The eerie calm that usually lingers in its hollow form slips away, replaced by something akin to concern. Its voice, usually calm and calculated, cracks with tension as it addresses the girl, its mechanical jaw moving quickly, "Wait… calm down, calm down! Tell me what's happening, what's going on?" The skull-poet's gaze flickers back and forth between her and the group, its rhyme suddenly not important any more. So that metal head CAN get its priorities right, at least. Its metal frame is tilting as if searching for some understanding in her panicked movements. Its metallic tone softens, trying to coax her down from the precipice of hysteria, "We can help. Just tell me… who is it? Who's being hurt… what's happening?" The whisper of the life-support system beneath it is almost drowned out by the rising crescendo of its words, each one dripping with mechanical worry.

Katral's hand goes to the gun to his hip… almost, knowing what kind of reaction that might give. "Killing who? The rats got here too?" He can't even catch himself, he still rhymes. Damnit. He looks towards the woman, walking over to her as fast as he can. There's a damsel in distress, and he's got the gumption to do something about it. Mayhap there's even a dragon for him to slay. Let's just hope it isn't ghouls, again. He'd hate to be killing more of Aurora's kin. Might make things difficult at the family dinner. Moreso.

The girl's breath hitches, each word torn from her as if it's a struggle to breathe, her body shaking with the weight of her panic. The feathers on her arms tremble, her tail flicking wildly behind her, as if trying to escape the invisible terror that coils around her. Her golden eyes are wide, streaked with fear and desperation, darting from one face to another in a frantic search for somethinganythingthat might offer reassurance. "Tara…" she gasps between sobs, her voice cracking as she tries to hold herself together. "I've been calling her because Lysander was bein' a dick… and… then… she screamed… I… I got the it recorded…" Her words trail off, as though the mere memory of the sound of the screams rips at her, threatening to unravel her completely. The words come out in fits, as if she's drowning in them, her chest heaving. "I think they… or whatever… killed her… or… are killing her… and… and there's nothing I can do…" The weight of helplessness presses down on her, her body taut with the need to act, but all she can do is stand there, lost in the nightmare unraveling around her.

"Show us. Before it's too late. Bring medical supplies." Katral takes charge, even though he is nowhere near an authority figure here. Well, maybe for one person, but that's another matter. He's stopped rhyming, because he hasn't got the damn time. Someone's life is at stake and he needs to do something about it. He's at the ready to sprint away, at a moment's notice.

The skull-poet's mechanical gaze flits from Katral to the frantic girl, its hollow face twisted into an expression of unnerving calculation. "Perhaps, a test already lies before you," it muses, its voice dipping into an almost amused cadence, though the edge of urgency remains sharp. Its glowing eyes narrow as it locks onto Lyra, its tone no longer playful but laced with a rare seriousness. "Tara is a friend," the skull-poet intones gravely, its voice slipping into the silence like a knife's edge. The weight of those words lingers in the air as it pivots back to Lyra, the flicker of its gaze as cold and calculating as a predator's. "Show him what you've recorded, girl. No more delays." There is no hesitation now, only the heavy expectation that every second counts. "Time slips away with every moment we waste."

Lyra's trembling hand stretches forward, offering the phone to Katral. Her grip is unsteady, fingers pale and slick with sweat, but there's no hesitation, no space left for caution or second thoughts. Trust, or the lack of it, is irrelevant now; the raw urgency eclipses all else. Her chest rises and falls in shallow gasps, feathers trembling with each breath. "I… I was outside… making the call," she stammers, voice brittle and fraying at the edges, eyes flicking to the screen as if willing it to reconnect. "I ran here… the second she screamed…" The last word chokes out of her, swallowed by a sob that breaks whatever composure she had left, and her gaze drops, shattered and pleading, as though the phone itself might now carry the last of Tara's breath.

TeeJay rises in one fluid motion, her movements sharp with purpose, and steps forward. Her gaze flicks briefly to the skull-poet, an unspoken understanding passing in a single nod, before locking onto Lyra with quiet intensity. "Where was she? When you called?" she asks, voice firm, cutting through the fog of panic. There's no edge of impatience, only urgency and instinct. She leans in to glance at the phone's darkened screen, then tilts her head toward Katral, the spark of action already lighting in her eyes. "If we move now, fast, we might still have time to change how this ends."

"Let's go. Lead the way." is all Katral says. He's ready to help, and nothing's going to stop him. He'll sprint, if given the chance, as long as he isn't perceived as some thief in the dark, ready to take something from this tight-knit community. His muscles are tensed, like a proper olympic racer.

Lyra's shoulders cave inward as though the weight of her failure suddenly crashes down, brittle and unforgiving. Her voice, already fragile, fractures completely. "I dunno where she was," she whispers, shaking her head, eyes unfocused. "She said she was at work… but she never told me. She was super secretive about it…" The last words barely make it out before she folds in on herself, knees buckling as she sinks to the ground. Feathers ruffle with the tremors of her sobs, her tail curling close like some defensive animal trying to disappear. Her hands clutch the phone, screen dimmed now, as if reflecting the flicker of hope guttering inside her. The sounds of her crying fill the silence like glass grinding underfoot. Raw, piercing, and utterly human.

The skull-poet's luminous eyes fix on Katral, their glow dimming with something like solemnity. Gone is the theatrical cadence, the rhymed riddles and cryptic turns of phrase; what remains is a rare sliver of sincerity beneath the whirring servos and polished bone. "Find Tara," it intones, each word slow and deliberate, heavy with meaning. "…if you can… and bring her to us…" A pause lingers in the air, thick with unspoken consequences. Then, quieter, with a mechanical rasp that almost resembles warmth: "Do that… and I'll see to it your sister's name is carried kindly." The poet's gaze lingers a beat longer, then shifts back to Lyra with something close to grief etched in circuitry and light.

"Alright. As before… get me a datajack, or a spot to set up my satlink, and I'll get to this ASAP. And an escort to go wherever that is, so people don*t think I'm decking into your grid, if you have one." He hasn't technically got ALL the software he'd need to do for a trace, but he may be able to jury-rig some kinda solution. He readies his sportsbag, holding his deck, ready to go wherever he is pointed. NOW he can start running.

The skull-poet's jaw shifts with a subtle clack, the twitch of its head barely perceptible but unmistakably irate, an echo of the human frustration it once knew, now locked behind chrome and constraints. "No jacking points down here," it rasps, voice edged with the cold practicality of survival. "We keep dark for a reason… no comforts, no leaks, no eyes." Its glowing gaze swivels toward the guard by the edge of the firelight, fixing him with an unspoken command. "Jared will take you topside. Fastest route. No dawdling." The whirring of the life-support tubing seems louder now, a rhythmic hiss underscoring the urgency. The skull's luminous eyes linger on Katral for a beat longer, a flicker of intensity sparking within them. "If she's still out there… don't waste time."
page revision: 3, last edited: 29 May 2025 15:47
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