Destructed World Cacophony IC


There was an empty train station.
No sights nor sounds nor scents nor sensations were truly here, and yet it was full of life.
Not a single human was present, and their presences filled the entire building.
Somehow, without any hustle and bustle existing at all, there was without a doubt a constant rush of stillness and a deafening silence.
Even an empty civilisation moved with a purpose.

Alina observed a train pull into the station on the tracks she was facing, watching the engine exhale steam as it came to a halt.
Her gaze had been led by it just so that she could see a bench in the corner of her eye a little down the platform.
It was familiar to her indeed.
A little girl, accompanied by a maid, were sat waiting there.
The girl jotted something down on a notepad, carefully yet firmly.
The maid looked over her shoulder.
"What train did you want to catch, Alina?" she asked.
The girl looked at her with a clinical gaze unbefitting of a child. "I don't want to catch a train."
And so, she turned her head back to her notes, noting down the model number of the engine that had just pulled. Colour, wheels, approximate size were all noted down into a table.
"What on earth are you doing?" the maid asked.
"I'm finding out the kinds of trains that are still used," she replied. "It's useful. Trains are important getting around."
"Sometimes the best way to find out about something is to try it, you know."
"If I tried it, then it would take forever to come back here again to try the next one. My way is better."
"How long are we going to stay here?"
"Until I'm finished."
"Trains come in and out all the time. When will you be finished?"
"I don't know."

Alina turned away. She'd heard enough.
That child was utterly insistent on simply logging and recording what came and went without ever moving.
The future was more important than now.
When was the future?
Was it when the next train came in?
The train after that?
After that?
Was it when she got bored and decided to observe something else?
Observe what came after that?
After that?
What was the difference between the future and the present, then?

She looked back.
The maid and the girl, hand in hand, were stood there, smiling to her.
"The future," the maid told her, "is when something changes."
Alina sighed a long, self-loathing, shameful sigh, and smiled back a little.
"Of course."
She had spent her whole past preparing for a future that never happened.
How asinine.
She didn't really deserve another chance.
She had already received two chances. The grip of that Bell remained clasped around her heart.
She was going to receive a third anyway.
She wasn't sure if she was grateful or not. It was hardly warranted if she had taken so long to realise something so obvious.
But even so.
Even if she had been a laughable fool all along.
I don't want to die yet.


She looked up at the maid and formed the most careful sentence of her life.
"I'm going, Rosette."
Rosette nodded wordlessly, and Alina boarded the train.
Searching for an empty seat, she sat down besides Yohan and Onyx, and watched the dreamlike memory until it was out of sight.
 
D e a d
a g a i n ,
t h e n ?

Opening his eyes slowly, Yohan opened his eyes slowly to a pitch-black floor, dimly illuminated by a faint purple light. He hadn't miraculously survived. Despite putting up the best fight he could manage, he'd failed. Thoughts of the white-haired girl's suffering, screaming body embedded itself deep within his mind. He'd failed her. She was probably trapped within that body; trapped within that world for an eternity. Had there been a way to 'beat' that being? All the odds had been stacked against him. All he wanted, for once in his life, was to do something 'good'. Couldn't he even have that? Was a true victory - one without cheating, one without luck - ever impossible for a miserable entity such as himself?

Slowly, his forehead hit the floor as he scrunched up his face in absolute defeat.

I t
j u s t
w a s n ' t
f a i r .

As those four words echoed inside his mind, Yohan's body suddenly rose without his will. His muscles functioned without him wanting him to, and his body jigged around, the blackness around him suddenly lighting up into a purple haze of grinning faces around him. The forecast was a light rain of playing cards; an occasional dice slipping away into the amethyst nothingness by his boot-clad feet. His body was a puppet on strings by a faceless devil, an empty chair tucked outwards for him to sit on. No consent in the matter, no matter how hard his mind struggled, his body always gave in. He sat at a table - the purple hunting grounds that were dripping with blood - waiting for his first prey.

The games had began, and although his body howled against it, the dealing of a card under his sleeve sealed the fate of one of the grinning faces at the table. The grin suddenly broke and turned into a howl of despair; his body growing claws and his face contorting into a hellish smile, Yohan devoured his first prey. The euphoria of a win cleansed and filled his body with hope, when in reality, he just wanted to run away far from here. The money that was raining from the sky didn't matter to him. He wanted to go home. He wanted to see his family again. But the strings tearing inside his limbs wouldn't let him leave this endless dance. An endless dance of his own suffering, and his own dishonest murder and irreparable injury on other people's lives. A win was not a win. The only thing that cemented itself was a loss.

Each table he cleared; each grinning face he wiped into nothingness, Yohan climbed the mountain further and further. Waiting to play at the next hunting ground. Waiting to devour the next individual, or be devoured himself, falling all the way back to the bottom of the mountain. The purple sky warped around him as pitch-black lightning bolts crackled around his suffering, uncontrollable body, and all he wanted was freedom; freedom from this mountain he was 'destined' to climb.

An endless loop of unfathomable victory; right back to a loss that bought him back to zero. The savagery that made him ignore all other 'people' around him the gambling table - the purple-shining eyes that could only envision others as opponents and obstacles. The euphoric sense of relief, watching those obstacles fall and fall, one by one, until a golden path to victory was easily within reach.

But just when he reached that golden path, another chasm was waiting for his body to be helplessly pushed into. A chasm that would reset the endless climb up that mountain again, and again, and again, and again.

The conflicted emotions inside of the husk that was Yohan screamed and ripped at apart at each other, low voices, rolling dice, the flipping of coins: playing back again and again in his head in a never ending circle. Tears leaking from his eyes as his roaring body cheered in bloodthirsty bliss as yet another victory was achieved, all the man could think of was the same words playing in his head, over and over again.

' W h y
d o e s
i t
h a v e
t o
b e
t h i s
w a y ? '
 
XrC6jZj.png
So this was it? Even when he burned away all the darkness had to send, the abyss still held them prisoner. The fire must have shed light for hundreds of meters, but there was no salvation in sight. Nothing he would use to sate the hunger that had already begun to gnaw at what was left of him. 'Hungry bastard,' he thought bitterly as the demand slammed into him and forced him to turn to Madelon. In the windless abyss, the flames nonetheless flickered towards the redhead, and embers drifted across the distance, burning her with but a touch. "Run," he managed to gasp out just before he fell to his knees.

"E-eh?" Her foot took a step back. Had she been scared? In that moment, there was a conflict of emotion; surely she shouldn't have to fear Caelan after saving both their lives, and yet something urged her to feel otherwise. It was like the tiny embers that drifted closer, pretty and warming, and then hot and finally searing as they brushed across her face. She slapped at the singed area on her cheek and hunched.

"Wh-what are you talking about…?" she asked quietly, as if it were meant more for her to consider the meaning itself. "'Zey are all gone, no? Are you okay?" Despite the heat, she stepped forward once, betraying the alarms in her brain that the fires were too dangerous to approach.

Why couldn't people do as they were told? Caelan wanted to yell at her, but he could barely manage a snarl as the flames tried to lash out at Madelon. His hand slammed against the ground and the tendril halted scant inches from her, radiating an intense heat. If she wouldn't leave, then it was up to him to get this sorted out.

There was nothing to feed to the fire, but it wasn't the flames that were hungry was it? No… they were just a means, a connection to something else. "Leave," he grunted out as he tried to reign in the fires rather than let them run free. Return the fires to their source and sate its hunger that way. "Distracting."

She understood then, as the flames lashed out at her likes hellish dogs on a leash. "'Zere's… nowhere to go…" she said dejectedly, eyes remaining on Caelan. She knew without needing to look that the abyss simply stretched unto infinity. There were no 'exits' to speak of.

Flames bellowed forth with each of Caelan's coughs as his insides felt like they had ignited. Burning up both inside and outside, he quite nearly slipped as he allowed himself to glance at Madelon. But then what would have been the point of all this? "Can't stop this," he gasped out as he watched his fingertips begin to blacken, "you'll get caught up. Get aw-" Coughing, the flames capitalized on the slip and lashed out at Madelon, hungry for more fuel.

Hopeless as she was at finding a place to truly retreat to, she took a step back, eyes worriedly gazing down upon Caelan. How could she run, or even hide, for that matter? She was a walking flashlight herself, and in the total blackness, she could surely be seen from miles away. Could she run fast enough before Caelan lost his grip?

Gripping her knife tighter, she began to feel a sense of desperation. Undoubtedly if she attempted throwing the knife at the boy it'd either burn into a molten slag or hit him with pitiful force; she was no knife-thrower. In the end though, it was her or him, and he clearly wanted her to be unharmed. Would a wound wrest him from his berserk state? If anything it'd frighten him further…

There truly was no way out. She was a walking, charred corpse already, the way she saw it. Words were the last thing she had left.

"You… you 'ave to get a grip!" she urged him as best she could.

As flames ate away at the blessed one's sanity, the black, formless ground split open. A red orb, a red eye, awoke, no animosity or even sentience present in its gaze, the eternal abyss turning crimson all around.

For this definitive encounter, the world that they stepped upon would observe directly.

It was like that golden eye… And then she realized it. The glow around her… How could she have not noticed it before? A feeling of warmth that warded against the essence of insanity and fear. A brief moment of happiness eluded her as her attention returned to Caelan.

"C-Caelan! Can you 'ear me? I-I 'zink 'zis is anozer one of 'zose 'zings!" she cried out, staring down upon the massive eye.

Annoyance nearly cut through Caelan's focus as Madelon's voice sounded no further than before. The heat seared his eyes dry if he even tried to open them, so he couldn't actually tell for certain though. It was hard to call the hacking sound he made a chuckle, but the small smile he made was unmistakable. It was strange what memories came up at a time like this…

Was it? He tried to open his eyes for a look, but they refused to part. His fingers grasped at the ground, trying to dig into the monster's flesh, but the flames refused to take. With a flash of anger, he slammed a blackened fist against the crimson surface futilely. Twice more before he slumped, drained and tired.

"Sorry," he muttered as he felt the fires work their way deeper into his body, burning through his veins and boiling blood. Unsurprisingly, the pain was enough to double him over and his head slammed against the ground with a sharp thud. Despite all that, the bonfire gradually shrank, as the fire concentrated itself around him. Blinding in its brilliance, his burning figure was nonetheless distinct within.

And thus, he rejected the blessing granted to him, the overwhelming power he had achieved after offering so much of the wretched world to the god that dwelt within his veins.

For that sacrilege, there was only agony, an endless hell of burning pain that long exceeded the amount of time it took for his nerves to melt into his muscles. His flesh evaporated, leaving only pure white bones, and even then, Caelan's consciousness persisted, endlessly, hoarsely screaming.

His very soul was the cost of this betrayal, tossed into a hell where time had no meaning.

A hell that persisted as she watched, unable to save anyone. Not him, not herself. Just a powerless individual who stood as a bystander, a witness to the end of a man who stood against the world and devoured it whole.

When his radiance disappeared, not even ashes remaining of the existence known as 'Caelan', her own solitary warmth revealed itself once more.

The world closed its eye.

Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
<Your LOVE is True>
<Your WISH Will Be Fulfilled>
<Target Destruction Complete>
<World Destruction Initiate>​

The transparency stopped, and slowly, Onyx's flesh became solid. The exhaustion that clung to his body too, was removed, an invigorating sensation of accomplishment washing over him. Around him, the pillars disappeared, crumbling into dusk. The night sky itself cracked, falling into the pieces to reveal a blindingly white world. A white void with only a singular feature.

A gray sphere, perfectly smooth.

He floated in nothingness, an incredible tranquility descending upon him.
___________________
He had expected everything to be done. He had expected to just fade out and wake up back in the restaurant and force himself to finish the food. But no, apparently there were other plans for him. Onyx could only look around him as the pillars disappeared and the exhaustion was lifted.

'Oh no. No, no, no.' He repeated mentally as the landscape began to change. This was supposed to be done. This was supposed to be over. Suddenly, he went from sitting to floating, but there was no anxiety - only a strange calmness he couldn't explain. His eyes focused on the gray sphere and he knew what his destination was.

Kicking at the nothingness, he attempted to propel himself forward to the sphere.

He kicked, but could not advance, could not progress. Suspended, the gray sun remained out of his reach within the white void, out of the reach of his hands. And, as he struggled to close the gap, two images floated within his mind.

Yohan, crushed into a pulp.

Alina, bleeding out from a knife wound.

Symbols of his failure.

Symbols of his victory.

Though he was calm, there was a slight mental frustration as he was unable to make any form of progress. He was stuck, both physically and emotionally. It was uncomfortable in a way, the calmness that had taken hold of him. Then, the images invaded his mind.

He had expected the worse, obviously, but seeing it still made him uncomfortable. Onyx had been accepted they would die. That was obvious. Hell, he had even accepted his death, but here he was. Stuck in place, unable to progress or even flee. But, there was something else that bothered him.

The victory.

While Alina and Yohan had met an unfortunate demise, he was still alive. It was an almost cruel feeling, but a fact he couldn't deny.

And to the victors went the spoils. Two golden lights, manifestations of radiance, emerged from within the cold sun, firefly specks that orbited around the youth. The two rewards that he obtained, simply by surviving. One speck flickered, turning into a joker, while another hissed, an icy mist emerging, before they became mere spheres of light once more.

To advance, to gain what could not be grasped.

To return, to regan what was once lost.

W H A T D O Y O U D E S I R E

Frozen in place, Onyx could only view the spectacle taking place in front of him. Slowly, understanding dawned on him. And he knew the choice he had to make. He knew there was something missing, but he couldn't be dragged down by the things he lost. If he could gain something, anything, that was his only true option.

"To advance."

Destructed ✧ World ✧ Cacophony
The Third Toll
By Any Other Name

With the rasp of steel against her scabbard, she unsheathed her sword one last time, speaking the sacred words that would slay the tyrant who stole her throne.

With the arrogance of a true ruler, she forced all others to submit, one hand stretched out to grasp their very wills, twisting intentions to suit her own.

WIth the chime of an otherworldly bell, worlds fell away once more, the dull haze of the afternoon permeating the smoke-riddled sky.

Gas lamps lit.

Factories ceased.

Restaurants opened.

An entire lifetime had passed, and yet, it was still early evening.​
 
They clung at him, pulling at his clothes, tearing at his hair, dragging his feet. But still, he advanced, progressing, abandoning. Between what was known and what was unknown, he chose the unknown, and continued to trek even as they poured curses down upon him.

But the phantoms of the past meant nothing. He silenced their protests and looked once more to the future. ​
Onyx stared at the clock on the wall, hands in his pockets. He didn't know where he was, exactly. All around him, everything was distorted, visible enough for him to see 'colors' and get an idea of the shapes, but it wouldn't give him any clarity. The only thing he could see clearly was the cuckoo clock on the wall. He recognized it, but he couldn't remember where. He admired the craftsmanship of it, honestly, and while a part of him wanted to reach out and touch it, he knew not to.

So he stood and watched it. The hand on the clock was quickly approach noon, faster than it should have been. There was almost something foreboding about it. But still, he stood and watched. He didn't run - no, not this time. As the clock struck 12 and the door opened to release the bird, a spray of blood was released suddenly, the warm liquid landing on Onyx's face. Surprised, he took a step back and softly touched the blood on his face, his heart beginning to pound when he realized it was stuck to him.

Then, he heard it. The muffled screams. Looking back up, he saw the blackbird, though it looks more like an actual bird than the last time he saw it. Still, he could hear the sounds of screaming in its beak, and slowly its mouth opened and showed Onyx the carnage it held within - the gore-y remains of Alina and Yohan who seemed to still be alive and cursing him. Immediately, the blackbird closed its mouth and retreated back into the clock.

Slowly, the door shut, trapping the blackbird within and Onyx blinked as he stood in front of Timeless Curiosities. Looking around, he watched as everyone seemed to be frozen in place - mid-stride or just in middle of doing whatever it was they were doing. Time had stopped, at least in this dreamscape, and he was allowed to move. But, with every step he took, he felt as though he was being watched. Stopping, he turned and met the gaze of the girl sitting on a bench, his eyes drifting down to the clock in her hands. The one he had made for her.

Walking towards her, slowly, he struggled to breath as she smiled in response.

"You've finally figured it out, Onyx. Good job. How cliche, though. The boy obsessed with time, who fixes clocks, is the one that can manipulate it. Tsk, tsk. I saw that coming from a mile away, though." She mused as he stood before her, eyes narrowed. "I'm glad to see you remember me, finally. And, now that you know, we can continue to 「win 」." She smiled and Onyx's eyebrows furrowed. Win? Alina and Yohan's remains flashed in his mind and he staggered back.

"You're not a hero, Onyx. When you tried to fight, you died. But, when you ran - when you made the right choice, we won. You don't know them and you don't owe either of them anything. They're not your friends, they're just people who are in the same situation as you. The only difference is... We're stronger. And if we keep winning, we'll get stronger." She smiled and Onyx shook his head slowly, the displeasure immediately showing on the girl's face as she threw the clock to the ground. "No? You chose to move forward, didn't you? Because you're afraid of the past? But what, you want to save them? The same way you saved me?" She inquired as she stepped forward, the skin on her face peeling back to reveal bits of her skull as multiple lesions appeared on her and she laughed.

"This is your fault, and you can't run from it. Just keep running, like you do. Because if you don't..." She raised her hand to his forehand, her fingers in the shape of a gun as her appearance shifted back into the blackbird and he felt the Contender pressed against his head.

Bang.
He jumped in his seat, the fork clattering on the plate as it slipped from his grasp. Looking around wide-eyed, Onyx struggled to regain his bearings as he was once again in the restaurant. Luckily, no one noticed his outburst, at least not to his knowledge. He was shaken, his arms wrapping around himself as he slowly rocked back and forth in his chair. He needed to get himself together. Looking down at the spaghetti, he felt sick - his appetite completely gone. But, as he tried to stand, he realized his knees were weak and his arms heavy, so he braced on the table before forcing himself to move. Leaving a tip for the waiter, and by tip he meant like 2 bucks because he's cheap, he quickly left the restaurant.

They had agreed to meet up at a bench on Roaring Surf Street, so that was his destination. But, there was a voice nagging in the back of his mind inquiring whether or not they would even be alive. How many times would they be allowed... No, forced to die before they didn't get another chance?

It didn't take him long to make it to the bench they had agreed to meet at, and slowly he sat down. He'd wait. For as long as possible. One of them would show up, surely. Leaning forward, he held his head as he watched the ground, finding it very interesting before movement out the corner of his eye caught his attention. Looking over, he saw a rat - the rodent scurrying around a trashcan. Not finding anything of interest, the rat quickly bolted - running past Onyx as his eyes followed it.

"Terminate." The words were instinctual, and immediately the rodent froze, mid-stride, unable move. Focusing on it, Onyx kept it deadlocked for as long as possible, while his mind began to race. What were the extent of his powers? What could he do? Was the the limit of his control? There was a voice in the back of his head that demanded his test the limit of his abilities, and another that demanded more. It was an exhilarating feeling - the power he had. But would this be enough? Or would he need more? Would he want more?

Now, that was a scary thought.[/hr][/hr]
 
After falling from the golden road, back into chasm, for what felt like the millionth time, Yohan's body hit the floor once more with a thud. The lighting adjusted. The tightened feeling around his body suddenly slacked, and he could control himself again. His breaths gurgling as his mind took a while to recover, Yohan closed his eyes together as tight as he could as he pressed his forehead against the dirty ground of the Dropout District. Fucking over at last. Real world now. Get a grip. He felt like he'd lost a part of himself again, but he couldn't discern what part it was. Gasping,

"Oh, please! Here I was thinking you had some fire in you, and you're already cryin' on the floor because of two losses in a row? Honestly, a sad 'scuse for a 'man' you are... care to prove me wrong?"

Shit. Was that what he was doing? Looking down at his hand that was weakly gripping a cup in confusion, Yohan looked up at the rotting, grinning teeth of some stranger. Wait, that was right... he was playing... some sort of 'game' before he got sucked in, wasn't he? Pushing himself off his pitiful position on his knees, and onto his feet, Yohan tried to find words as he stared at the cups on the floor, but couldn't find any, furrowing his brow in absolute confusion. What was this game again?

"Wa ha ha! What's wrong, sonny? Can't accept your loss? That's two you owe me now..." the man cackled, before suddenly spreading his arms. "But, I'm feeling generous today. I'll charge yer' absolutely nothing if ya' can beat me in this next round; I'll even double the . If you lose, though... I'll take a quarter of that dosh you're hiding away there. But come now, a man with a fire in his eye like you's surely figured out my trick by now, riiight...?"

Slowly getting a grip of himself, Yohan's mind felt unusually conflicted for a moment. Usually a deal like this would appeal to him: another chance to figure it out. But... for some reason, that 'risk' didn't seem worth it at all. How was the man even detecting the coin under the cups? Whilst once he would've had tons of ideas in the various ways you could trick someone's eyesight, his mind was fizzled and he couldn't figure out a single way how he'd do it. Not possessing any remenants of a 'poker face' anymore, the confusion and distress visibly flared up on Yohan's face, before he briskly shook his head.

"No," Yohan replied simply, dropping a sizable amount of notes in front of the man. He just wanted to leave this shithole. He couldn't even remember why he wanted to be in this dump; it felt like there was absolutely no reason why he'd come here in the first place. "That's enough for your drinks. I have to leave." Though confused at the sudden change of this boy's personality, the scammer gawked at the money that was a considerable amount more than what was needed for two fancy cocktails, pocketing it greedily as Yohan turned heel and began to hurry off.

He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be here. Alina. Onyx. The bench.

His body breaking into a jog through the shit and debris-littered dump known as the Dropout District, flashing signs, flowing sewage, and blaring arguments dimming his senses. He needed to get out of here. He needed to find the exit. Whirling into a side-alley, things seemed relatively quiet for a while, until his jogging figure bumped into an unwavering chunk of flesh almost twice his size. A bald head with a face partially masked face, hidden by a rose-red bandana, looked down at the student, dressed up in a suit of leather and brass scraps. Just his luck. A fucking underground bandit, no doubt.

"Woah, now... easy now, brother. What's the rush?" the stranger carefully said in a burly voice, imitating some sort of fake, friendly tone. Looking around slowly, Yohan could make it more figures coming behind this hulk of a man. Armed with melee weapons. Why the fuck had he chose a route in the dodgiest alley, again? He'd virtually been asking for something for this to happen; he hadn't been properly thinking about his route at all. "A good friend of mine tells me you've got a lot of cash on you. A big stack. ...Care to show us your 'generosity'? If you can't, I'm sure we can improve that 'selfish' attitude of yours, hmm...?"

The bald man's grin visible on the outline of his red bandana as he pulled some sort of makeshift firearm on Yohan, his air tank clearly hidden somewhere within his suit, whilst around five thugs fondled nailed boards and glass, cloth-wrapped shivs alike as they began to close around him.
"...Huh?" Yohan grunted in a monotone. It was all he could think of to say; these thugs had come out of nowhere and had him surrounded. Acting the fool probably wouldn't work, even with their level of intellect. This wasn't good at all.

"Don't play the downs with me, shithead. I can see a bulge in that ratty coat of yours. Fuckin' pay up. We're alone, in a place where I could dump your stabbed, bashed, and shot body to rot without even needing to lug it far enough for me to sweat. You've got five seconds to show me that 'generosity'... before me an' my boys lose our patience."

Speechless, Yohan backed off a little, outnumbered, faced with one who even had a silenced firearm. This money was going to be essential to making devices that could find more answers when the third obelisk rose; there was no way he could give it up. Biting his lip, he considered drawing his knife to fire at the firearm-wielding one, but he suddenly had a better idea. That power he obtained and put to use against that demon that possessed Alina... surely it wouldn't work here, would it?

Looking up to a half-collapsed rooftop, Yohan focused on it, and whispered the word his mind had somehow memorized.

" T r a n s l o c a t e . "

The small, brief feeling of air pressure formed around him. And, to his surprise, he found himself looking down on the group of thugs, balancing from the rooftop he'd been staring at. As they realised his new position, screams of confusion erupted below him.
"Wot' the hell?! Ee's up there!"
"Th-thas' impossible!"
"CAN IT, YOU DAFT CUNTS! He's clearly just trying to get to us with some dirty trick!" the firearm-wielding thug screeched, before switching his aim upwards to the direction his goons were pointing. "I dunno or care what the fuck you set up to get up there so fast, but you're not leaving that spot til' you share some of your cash with us. One funny move that isn't throwing down money this time, and I'll blast your God-damn brains out! That clear, shithead?!"

Looking down on the thugs as his bent legs remained still, Yohan tapped his chin in thought for a moment. Slowly opening his mouth, a single coin - the lowest form of currency - fell in front of the 'leader' of the crooks, drenched in his saliva and coated in grime from its impact,
"There's some cash," Yohan murmured, wiping his mouth with a sleeve as he crouched atop the slanted rooftop, squinting as he looked into the distance. "By your logic... now, I'm allowed to leave."

"...THINK YOU CAN SCREW WITH ME?! THEN I'LL PRY IT OUT OF YOUR FUCKING CORPSE!!" The bald crook roared, pulling the trigger of the makeshift weapon without hesitation, the irons carefully aimed on the head of this 'little shit'. As he prepared to watch a limp body fall, however, he instead heard a 'ping' as the bullet ricocheted off crude roof tiling. His prey had disappeared. No trace, no sound, no indication of how he did it. He just simply wasn't there anymore.

Left dumbfounded, the group of thugs were left arguing and roaring at each other in the background as Yohan Rye walked away, hands in pockets.

~ ~ ~​

After a while of walking, avoiding more whores, and pushing past coughing crowds, Yohan finally managed to navigate himself back to the entrance he walked through to get to this fucking cesspool. His body breaking out into a jog as he saw the light of Ringrange, two figures suddenly obstructed his path at the top of the stairs. Those 'shady men' he'd seen when walked in here. One tall, expressionless, with dark skin and short black locks of hair. One smaller, more expressive, a frowning flushed face with a short brown mustache. Both wearing white and blue clothing, shades, and seemingly hiding various things in those long coats they wore - just like Yohan did.

"Coming out so soon? A wise decision." The taller, expressionless individual of the two men suddenly extended his hand out flatly in front of Yohan. "Present your student identification card at once."

Crap, these two had been undercover disciplinary members? That explained why they weren't hesitant at all to let him in earlier. If he knew that was the case, he would've got rid of his 'weapon'. No getting out of it now, though. Biting his lip as he reached in one of his pockets that held a spare of his student I.D, Yohan held it up for inspection. He'd just have to play it cool and truthful from here, and maybe he wouldn't be completely eviscerated. He barely cared about Ringrange anymore. He just needed to get to that bench.

"Yohan Rye," The blank-faced individual read off the card carefully. "I've heard of the name. You're an inventor looking into improving the water pumping systems within Ringrange, along with other systems related to 'water pressure'. Is that correct?"

"That's right," Yohan replied, taking back the I.D. and slipping it within his coat. "Can I get going, then? There's someone I need to meet. Urgently." Wordlessly, however, the shorter of the two suddenly grabbed him by the coat, forcibly patting down his right side at first, which easily revealed the wad of cash he'd bought with him.

"Fucking take a look at this," the shorter man grumbled, waving it in front of the blank-faced man who swiftly gave his thoughts on it.
"This is a large sum of money, Yohan Rye. I'd be able to tell if you used it for... 'the company of women'. It doesn't seem to be the case. What are your reasons for bringing this?"

"I thought I had a use for it, but I realized I didn't. ...I want nothing to do with the place. Maybe it was just curiosity, but I came back out as quickly as I entered when I noticed the rumours of that shithole were way too generous..." Yohan sighed, keeping his body rigid like a scarecrow's as the disciplinary members continued to pat down his coat, pulling out things such as a deck of cards, his notebooks, his pens... they were going to find 'it' eventually, and he didn't want them patting down his groin. Best to just speed things up. "For goodness sake, just look inside the 3rd pocket, down on the left. That's what you're looking for," he finally muttered through his teeth.

"Hrm?! Now what the fuck is this?" the shorter member of the two hissed, whipping the Yohan's switchblade out of his coat pocket, looking at the brass blade in disgust. "You bought a blade with you, thinking you could take it inside our glorious Ringrange? You're clearly not a complete fucking idiot, so why are you acting like one, breaking campus rules?" He reached in the pocket further, cussing as he touched something sharp. "Shit! ...What are these, unfinished blades without handles?"

"That's no ordinary blade," The blank-faced member pointed out, inspected it from a distance. "There's a mechanism inside. That's why it comes with multiple blades. It's a design that uses water pressure to fire the blade..."
"Fifty meters, maximum. At higher accuracy than that of a simple spring." Yohan filled in.
"Indeed. The design is somewhat crude, further suggesting you created it. This is a serious offence. Explain yourself."
"...Of course I had to bring something whilst holding all this cash; I'm basically a walking target. Do I look someone who could hold their own without a weapon? I had to make something. In hindsight, it might've been a rash decision to carry something like that around in public, but I value my personal safety above everything else. Rest assured, though, I haven't used the blade whatsoever." Yohan replied to the blank-faced individual. His partner scowled, not seeming so convinced.

"Fuck this. He's clearly been up to something. Popping in and out of a place like that for barely over an hour, in ownership of a weapon. Coming out with money like that is just plain suspicious, especially with some fancy-ass advanced weapon." A long pause came, before the short man's partner suddenly leaned in towards Yohan, an expressionless face mere centimeters away from his. He could feel warm breath as the slow words came from the man:

"Did you use this blade whilst in the Dropout District, Yohan Rye?"

Technically, he hadn't. He'd only used it in the 'fake' world; he couldn't remember ever drawing it or having to use it. He might've had to use it back with those thugs, and then he'd have been in some seriously deep shit. So, with absolute certainty, Yohan didn't back away from the stare as he simply uttered a one-word answer.
"No." The blank-faced individual continued to stare with shaded eyes, before looking to his partner with a wordless expression. The shorter man shuffled in an agitated manner, before storing the switchblade and the three blades that it came with in a small, sealed bag.

"Hmph... we'll see if that's true or not soon enough. I'll be taking this weapon to experts. Experts that'll be able to tell me the last time you picked up the thing, and if the position of your fingerprints ever show you held the weapon in an aggressive manner, you can kiss your access to the facilities we generously provide to you goodbye. If not, the point still remains, bring a less lethal form of personal defense if you're worried about your well being," The shorter of the two growled, before turning to his partner, leaving with a nod. "You can tell him the details of his punishment. I'll get an escort... before the next dropout punk comes begging to be let back outside." The blank-faced member gave a wordless nod in response, before turning to Yohan, taking off shaded glasses to look him sternly in the eye.

"Entering the Dropout District is permitted, but with such a sum of suspicious money isn't. You will receive a warning for this, as you're likely new to such rules, but next time, we won't be so generous," the disciplinary member continued on, "Additionally, you will be taken back for questioning by higher authorities for the possession of a homemade weapon on campus. The result of this will very likely be - seeing as you don't deny creating this weapon yourself - a temporary move of housing for you into somewhere more 'within our reach', and of lower quality. You will be paying for this housing, still, of course. We will check your room weekly, we will check the supplies ordered for any projects you might have weekly, and we will have you supervised whenever you wish to use manufacturing facilities. If we ever find traces of you creating weapons again... well, you can continue to create your little knives, just whilst knee-deep in sewage within the confines of the place that stands behind you. Further punishments may follow depending on the circumstances and advice of my majors. Is this clear?"

"Yes. Perfectly clear," he back-channeled. "Let's get that questioning over with. There's someone I need to meet."

"It'll take however long it needs to take. Now come on. Follow me."
 
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[fieldbox= Alice Engels, plum, solid]

Staring up at the sky as the building came down, the Machine Girl looks on helplessly, seeing the other three making it down or at least attempting, she had assumed they had won against the gunner, but that wasn't so important now. Turning to run, the sad fact of the matter was her legs were as suited to this terrain as a new born fawn taking its first steps. Turning in time to see the ruble fall around her, first her right leg was smashed, then more and more fragments collided with her, gasping for air and letting out a frightening scream, a curious sight of all was soon seen by her as a chuck of rock collided with her head... A small form in a dress, with realization it was her body with blood sprouting from her own neck Her head soon tumbled with only the blood it still contained, keeping her conscious enough to see strange world one last time.

Vision blackening she didn't even get to see her grave. The girl who was meant to be dead could finally rest, or so she thought, suddenly she finds herself alive? A giant screen came to light, and around her was a...theater? Looking down her metal limbs were still there, but on screen there was Alice, with a perfect body, or at the least a whole one, taking stairs, cooking with ease, laughing and spending time with friends rather than being shunned or hated. It was nice to see, how she always wished her life could have been, should have been if not for the factory incident. The smile she found on her face soon turned to terror however.

Her metal limbs become flesh, bulbous and filled with puss covered in scars, like some sort unholy creation of bubbles and plagues. Unable to move, the crowds of people around her whisper insults and move away from her. Watching the screen the other Alice continues to succeed in everything she does, even up to the vanishing, escaping the tower with ease, putting her self at risk with nimble speed to save the others from the gunner, and returning to this world with her new friends.

"...Things I'll never have...things that I had taken.." Thinking back to the accident that killed her parents and left her a cripple, her grandfather resorted to his mad science over the grief the pair shared, he now expected her to be happy, how could she be happy with...this... Looking back down at her limbs, rusted metal was back. She had constantly kept away from others out of fear, tried her best to live a life she wasn't happy with, forgiving her grandfather his hubris, even now all she could hope for is others studying her and improving upon her..

"...No..it's not good...and I don't want to die. But I already am. I'm not honest after all.. I.." As this realization builds and echos throughout her mind a maddeningly yellow eye fills the entirety of her vision, drawing her into a nonsensical madness. As various thoughts and images fill her mind the girl can do little more than one simple thing.

She screams.

She wasn't an honest girl after all.. Just one who told lies to herself to tell the truth to others. Something which was now broken.

Suddenly Alice's eyes opened, the yellow eye was gone, so was the madness, suddenly memories flood her mind. Dropping her food in the street and what amounted to disruption of public order, as well as attacking the teenage boy she met whom had a staff. Then someone placed her in a chokehold.. how she was not aware of this as it happened she was not sure, but it seemed that she was alive.

Looking at her surroundings, she was in a prison cell alone, her clothing was as she left it, and the bed felt nice, other prisoners in visible past the bars were keeping to themselves or at least being silent. Normal guards and disciplinary committee students patrolled time to time, but pretty much ignored everyone. Lastly was a toilet with a privacy sheet. Carefully getting up she makes use of this facility, with no where else to go, no one to talk to, and no one out, she returns to the prison bed and falls fast asleep. For now she was happy enough to be out of that world and exhausted.

Thinking, or attempting to contact those others that she met could wait until she was awake.

[/fieldbox]
 
@Jageroux
Minutes stretched on, time meticulously kept by the ornate clock that ticked down just down the street. It was an old-fashioned watermill clock, an impractical oddity marvelled at by couples crossing through the dainty avenues of Roaring Surf Street. Once more, music was in the air, breezy enough to be ignored but elegant enough to draw in listeners regardless. Tonight was the First Jazz and Blues Club's performance, pianos and cellos blending together with the soft tempo of drums.

But what brought Onyx out of his inactivity wasn't music, but the click-clackering of a beautiful doll, made human by the dextrous fingers of someone he knew all too well.

Her white hair was set ablaze by the firelight of the street lamp.

Her magenta eye burned with a passion that he had not seen before.

Her eyepatch, a new addition that magnified her mystique, covered what he knew must have been a golden left eye.

And her performance, above all, was captivating. The doll waltzed to a dozen melodies, a group of curious students soon growing large enough to obscure her from Onyx's gaze, soft gasps of wonder sounding.

There was no applause when the performance ended. Only gazes of admiration as the crowd parted to allow the empress passage through. In a black evening gown that made her complexion stand out even more than before, she smiled at Onyx.

"Good evening. Did you enjoy it?"

@Jakers
Following the older student turned out to just be a short walk through a smaller tunnel, before leading towards what must have been another outpost for the Disciplinary Committee. It was a small, somewhat dreary affair, a room that was really just a refurbished engine room. Coats were hung on pipes, while hats found themselves on valves. A mess of documents was crammed into any nooks or crannies available, while a spring-powered fan served to be the only sort of air conditioning this place had. Still, there were small stools, at least, and a padlocked wardrobe that stood against one wall indicated that weapons were one of the things that the Disciplinary Committee insured their officers were not in short supply of.

Seated down, Yohan could only keep quiet as the officer dialed up headquarters, engaging in a string of jibber jabber that was 70% composed of police jargon. Whatever they were talking about, it was clear that the process was going to be a pain in the ass.

Really, why DID he come to the Dropout District to begin with?

And then, she stepped in.

Two female officers, one with blonde hair and another with black, strode in, the blonde one doing most of the talking. A tour or an orientation or something? He didn't care, because it didn't matter. Seconds within walking into the room, the raven-haired one locked gazes with Yohan, and the hydromechanics could see it then.

The golden radiance that shone from her left eye.

And the killing intent that suddenly flashed within that gaze.

"You're free to go now, Yohan," the male officer spoke up.

And, like dew in the morning sun, that killing intent disappeared, as the raven-haired lady turned to salute her superior.

@RedArmyShogun
She fell into a deep sleep, dreamless and endless.

Or, it could have been, if it wasn't for the fact that someone was banging on the bars of her cell and calling out awkwardly in pronouns such as 'you' and 'sleeping girl'. Once she did finally get around to turning to that stranger, Alice would find herself looking at a rather young boy, auburn hair restrained by a plaid messenger cap while a camera hung around by straps around his neck. With a bright smile, the youth pulled out a business card (self-made, judging by the questionable artistry and calligraphy).

"Morning, rampaging berserker clockwork girl! Name's Namie Wallows, from the Second Journalism Club! Doing well this fine evening?"
 
She was laughing.
Clutching her belly for dear life, she was laughing as if she'd suddenly understood every joke ever told to her in her whole life all at once.
Alina had no idea what was quite so funny, but giggles spilled out of her without end, a bottle turned upside down.
It was around half a minute before she finally caught her breath, looking up at the sky with wide eyes.
She shook her head a little.
To think that, despite everything, she was beginning to prefer the other sky...
How much had she just lost? It felt as if she had gained something in return.
Or perhaps what was taken from her had been an encumbrance all along.

She was fine here, she concluded. False or real, forced or willing, something had been filled to the brim and remained there comfortably.
There was nothing she wanted to lose now. Her own subjectivity had value to it all of a sudden.
She wasn't exactly eager to die again.
That settled it then.

That world would come again, she was certain.
Next time, she was going to fight tooth and nail against it.
Yet somehow, it was not because it was an enemy.
So that's why.
She didn't hate that sky. It brought her anxiety, fear, it gripped at the breath in her throat, but there was no hostility towards that Bell anywhere in her heart.
Ultimately, there was nothing to be hostile towards.
It had killed her twice, but likewise, it had lifted her burdens twice.
In a sense, one could consider it a test, taking from wanderers that which they couldn't deal with alone.
Was she more human or less as a result? She didn't know, but she didn't care. This was fine.
She was content to hold the rest of her burdens by herself.

Thank you for your consideration.

Satisfied, she went back to her newspapers. It seemed to have been a while since she had disappeared to that other side, but they were still there, so she got back to what she was doing as she waited for Yohan and Onyx to show up. In hindsight, this bench was a convenient place to meet, whether or not she had chosen it just because she was already there.
Honestly, though, these articles were a lot harder to read all of a sudden. No, rather they were more difficult to bring herself to read.
It was a little different than how it was before, but this was also "boredom", wasn't it? No, "disinterest".
Nonetheless, her eyes remained glued to the pages, scanning every line of text as thoroughly as ever, even though she quickly realised that she really could not have cared any less about all this garbage surrounding sports or celebrities or politics or scanda--

"Oh. That's new."

She took that back. These things didn't exist in some void.
They weren't as disconnected as they looked.
Suddenly Alina, flipping from page to page and comparing papers, was finding this very interesting indeed.
 
[fieldbox= Alice Engels, plum, solid]

Yawning Alice wonders what in the devil was the racket going on, stirring from her dreamless sleep, maybe it was a good thing she was awakened. Though she wished whoever it was would bother calling her by name, in place of yelling, "Hey you!" and "Sleeping girl!"

"ugh...I'm awake..I'm Awake.. Other Prisoners are here you know."

Getting up from her bunk, Alice turns around, stretching her clockwork limbs slightly as her back stretches. An unusually human act for what amounted to having machine limbs. Looking at the figure ahead of her it seemed to be a young boy, auburn hair, had the look of what one would expect of a reporter from the hat to the camera.

Not wasting time he begins an introduction holding out a rather poorly made card, walking closer Alice takes note of the card, but furrows her one eyebrow in response. At least he wasn't from that other world as far as she could remember.. Speaking of she needed to get out of here and to track those two down from before, she had lots of questions or least wanted to confirm she had met them.

"Morning, rampaging berserker clockwork girl! Name's Namie Wallows, from the Second Journalism Club! Doing well this fine evening?"

"I have a name you know, Namie. Rampaging Berserker? I didn't burn the town down..." As far as she knew, sort of being a disruption she hardly did anything worth being called a Berserker, or so she gathered from the memories she could recall. Never mind the confussion his words caused. She had no idea what time it was, and here he was saying morning and evening, frowning she wondered what he wanted.

In the not so distant past she would have simply told him no and to get lost, but that world had changed her somewhat.

"I could be better, and second Journalism club? Why would we have more than one.." It wouldn't surprise her if there was more than one, plus unless he had some sort of official clearance she doubted the guards would have let him down here causing a racket. Though never being in prison before there were a thing oddities in the situation that she didn't question. Letting out an exhausted sigh, the Machine Girl decided to cut to the chase.

"What do you want anyways? Not like you came here to get me out.." Crossing her arms and with a glare to her eyes she hoped he wasn't here just to study the side show freak that she had became. If he was here just for that she would go back to sleep or call for a guard, she needed to know how long they would be keeping her anyways, and as much as she was loath to admit it, she would need to make up a lie for her strange behavior earlier as well, the truth of whatever happened couldn't just be shared publicly. They would send her to a mental ward after that she was sure.

[/fieldbox]
 
That golden light.

He hadn't imagined it.

As he was sitting through his 'punishment' for his unknown actions, the aurelion beacon had showed up once more. Blinding. Reminding. Reminding him that even in the real world, things weren't normal. Reminding him that he wasn't the only one to go through this torment, and that that 'torment' would be upon him once again soon.

But why had the eye of someone in the same situation as him been so... murderous?

Why did his head feel the need to turn away from her gaze?

Staring at the raven-haired soldier for a few moments as the streak of gold illuminated specks of dust in the cramped room, like sunlight, Yohan averted his gaze back to the one giving him the lecture. Slowly, he nodded, though his voice carried a hint of anxiety from the recent, chilling event.

"Thank you. Sorry again for the inconvenience," Yohan muttered in a half-respectful, half 'glad that's over' monotone, before getting to his feet somewhat unsurely. After seeing another one of his kind, was he supposed to just walk away for the sake of being 'normal', or was he supposed to ignore what being 'normal' looked like anymore? This was survival: planning ahead for an unknown madness at this point, and it was questionable whether his actions in the real world mattered, even if it got him killed.

Beginning to walk out the room, Yohan eyed the glowering stranger for a while, until he seized the opportunity to quickly whisper in the woman's ear when the blondie turned her back.

"We know who each other are, and what our predicament is. If you're interested in trying to fix this predicament with more of 'our kind', then follow me."

With that, Yohan left as normal. Whether he followed her or not didn't really matter to him. Everyone who possessed a glowing eye were just lost souls at this point, losing themselves, part by part. He was still going to try and figure out this 'puzzle', these 'hallucinations', but was there even a reason to them? It seemed too eloborate, too planned - with the symbolism, the theme of the obelisk, the ticking - to be a mere punishment. What was the objective? Why? Why?!

Teeth bit into a dry lip as the man's stomach rumbled, and the bags under his eyes looked even worse in the half-fresh air and relatively good weather of the Roaring Surf. A few recognized the peculiar man who'd raved about something on a bridge just a day ago, but only a few, and with nothing more than mildly 'noting' looks. Looks. Eyes. Damn it... couldn't everyone irrelevant just go away? They weren't going through what he was; they didn't fucking understand.

The bench. That was all he needed to go to.

The bench, followed by some 'preparation'.

He had a feeling Onyx would make it just fine, but his gut was wrenching; wrenching at the thought that Alina might've been 'kept' in that place because of his failure. And even if they were there, what would they even discuss? A hat shading his trembling eyes, Yohan didn't know anymore. He didn't want to take any risks.

What was even the point?
 
[fieldbox=Onyx Norwyn, red]

Onyx had spent so much time testing the limits of his Termination as safely as possible, he eventually decided to take a break before he burnt himself out. And he was sure the rodent was glad to no longer be subjected to his powers. Hands in his pockets, he began to stroll through the area, content with enjoying the music until something caught his gaze that gave him pause.

Having been being brought to a standstill, he could only watch the puppeteer in awe. Not necessarily because of her performance, but because it was her. He had seen her before. The first time he ever went to that other world - when he met the others. What was her name? Mari-something.

'Marionette.' A voice in the back of his head reminded him and he stood, peering through the crowd. She seemed... So alive. He didn't know how to explain it, but his attention was drawn to her eyepatch and he had a suspicion of what was behind it. He had questions - so many questions. Had she seen any of the others? Had she been there just then? As such, he waited until her performance ended and while he expected to have to chase after her, he was surprised when she approached him with a smile.

"Uh... It was nice, yeah." Onyx said, feeling a little awkward though he still forced a smile onto his face. "Never really watched many puppet shows, but that was cool. So, uh... We... Were you... Just there? Like... Me, Alina and another guy, Yohan, just got away from there not long ago. Did you get sent back as well?" He ran a hand through his hair as while shifting on his feet, his mannerisms making it obvious just how nervous he was.
[/fieldbox]
 
@RedArmyShogun
"Yeah," Namie replied, unbothered by the cold reception, "You totally do have a name, but I don't see you introducing yourself at all, Miss Berserker! Glad to see you're energetic enough to realize that you could be better though."

As the journalist flicked out a notepad and produced a ballpoint pen from his ear, though, he paused when the clockwork girl revealed just how little she knew of Ringrange's student life in general. Geez, a shut-in, when she wasn't even a top-tier student? Definitely looked to be following the pattern of someone destined to slip through the cracks and become a dropout then. Putting aside those nasty predictions for the time being, Namie mocked surprise as he put one hand over an open mouth.

"Wow, you don't even know why there's multiple renditions of the same type of club? Tsk tsk, there's less than a week before club activities and recruitment begins. Gotta catch up, yo!" He laughed then, before drawing a quick little diagram. "Essentially, multiple clubs of the same subject handle different levels of importance, and thus, have different budgets. In the case of Journalism Clubs, the First Journalism Club handles international news, with their top reporters actually being allowed to travel outside of Ringrange during semesters for their club activities. Second is just your ordinary campus newspaper, while Third? Tabloids and voyeurism, those leeches."

"And, naturally, there's Fourth, but no one here is stupid enough to care about fake news bulletins with disgusting sensationalist headlines."

Adjusting his hat and realizing that clockwork berserker girl wasn't particularly interested in learning about Ringrange after all (probably because she's living off family wealth), Namie coughed, before saying, "Yup, you're correct! I'm here more because Third Journalism Club is shitting all over your reputation at the moment, with the whole 'Psychopathic Half-Machine Monster Attacks Disciplinary Committee! A New Weapon From Ringrange's Discontented Minorities?!" thing going around."

"So yeah, mind telling me the true purpose of your rampage?"

@Jakers
The raven-haired girl had followed her with his eyes as he departed, but no more words were exchanged between them. A later engagement would be had at a later time. Her hand remained on the hilt of her sword as she listened to her superiors continue with the orientation, one eye at the student profile left on top of the desk.

Was this an abuse of power? Or just the right of a ruler?

That golden radiance continued to outshine the small room's incandescence.
~
"Damn, kid, looking hella distressed, eh?" A sudden voice called from behind, an arm hanging itself over his shoulder. The smell of a sweet alcohol cut into Yohan's senses as he saw a face all too familiar to him. The face of the swindler curly-haired man with long nails and a pronounced nose, that had trumped him during a game of cups. "Didja get mugged afterwards? Or did those beautiful Disciplinary ladies give you a beatdown in your manhood?"

The man laughed, disregarding any glances from nearby gentlemen who were wondering why he was already buzzed when it wasn't even evening yet.

"By the way, friendo, forgot your dice in the alleyway."

The hand that slung over Yohane's fingers produced those cursed dice without a single movement.

"Shouldn't be misplacing that sort of stuff, you know? Maybe next time you pull a Houdini, you'll lose all your clothes!"

@Jageroux
"Just there?" She tilted her head to the side cutely. "Why wouldn't I be, Onyx?"

A smile graced her lips then, as she placed a cold, soft hand against his cheek, thumb grazing the area below his glowing eye. Leaning close, her magenta eye filled with a warm allure as it locked onto his own gaze. He could see the details of her eyepatch up close now, silver thread embroidered to form a design that appeared to be six wings.

"I'm jealous, Onyx…got yourself quite a headstart with that two-for-one, didn't you?"

The dollmaster's beautiful face got closer, until their noses were almost touching.

"Enjoyed yourself?"
 
A little startled at the hand on his shoulder at first, Yohan's mind was taken off the curious, murderous stare that woman gave him, and now was trying to figure what this man was doing here. ...Was going down there a part-time job or hobby of his, or did he just go down there to get pissed?

Whatever he wanted, there was worse company, Yohan supposed.

"I did, actually," Yohan replied plainly, "Get mugged, I mean. Plus, one of those 'ladies' gave me a look that suggested she's going to run me through in my sleep. Makes me wonder why I even went down there," Yohan looked to his side, cringing a little at the smell of sugar-infused drinks as the man got a little too close to comfort, Yohan was seriously considering using 'Translocate' to shake the man off, but doing such a thing in a public space probably wasn't a good idea for now.

Then, the man presented something.

...Dice...?

The young man looked from the dice, to the swindler, furrowing his brow in confusion.

"Oh. Thanks, but... these are mine...?" Yohan asked, rumbling the dice gently within his hands for a moment. They didn't really seem to bring back any memories in particular. ...Just a pair of manky dice. Was he being played, somehow, or was this just another memory he'd lost? "I don't... no, thanks for returning them, but you keep them. Even if those are mine, the things seem a bit useless. Just more weight to carry," Yohan handed the dice back, and if he didn't take them, he just settled for throwing them away somewhere.

This is usually where he would've gone back to walking where he needed to be, but by the time Yohan looked up, the man had already acquired a pipe inbetween his mouth somehow. Narrowing his eyes for a moment, the young man pointed at the pipe for a moment, before dropping his hand to his side.

"...How are you making objects 'appear' like that?" Yohan asked simply, "it's gone beyond the point of sleight of hand. Nobody's that skilled." he murmured.

"...You've got some sort of... 'power', don't you? Share that secret with me, and I'll share one of my own."
 
[fieldbox= Alice Engels, plum, solid]

"I haven't been in school here long...I was homeschooled the last few years. No one has really tried teaching me about the Academy, and I've mostly been in the machine workshops or gardening club.. Well more like the landscape workers. I wasn't born like this you know." Alice adds in defensively with a hint of irritation to her voice. While she couldn't find it in herself to be honest with the newspaper boy

"The name is Alice Engels." The Machine Girl offers, tired of being called a Berserker to say the least. Listening to his explanation on the clubs and their duties, her eye narrows at the nature of the third and fourth, why waste money on such things. Though was there any proof in what he was saying, given her relative ignorance on the situation, she had no way of confirming that.

Listening to the rest of his explanation this was going too far. "I attacked the Disciplinary Committee? You people are acting like I killed someone or broke the city! And a weapon of the minorities?! I can barely take stairs fast!" A little enraged at that, she steps closer to the bars, but doesn't make any threatening moves. Pacing back and forth, then stopping, Alice let's out a sigh, tired of this ordeal and the continuing stupidity of rumors her appearance got her dragged into. "I ended up like this a few years ago from an industrial accident... I had a.."

Thinking on it, she had to be careful with her words, she couldn't just tell the truth nor make herself seem crazy. Though that would be exceedingly difficult, and she did remember lashing out at that one man from before, but how her suffering had became the focal point of a rampage was not known to her.

"..just another accident, dropped my food for the week, don't have the allowance to just replace it, collapsed screaming, was stressed, scared. The only contact I had with the Committee that I can remember was when they put me in a sleeper hold.. I just wasn't myself at the time. We all have bad days, some of us bad memories, and this is my first time being out living on my own. I would never hurt the Disciplinary Committee members, they are the only reason I can have a remotely safe and livable life here.. You seen how your other paper is acting, it isn't rare."

With a shrug and an after thought, she lefts her right arm up to show the gears, mixing truth and lies. "See this? It's clockwork, It would make for a terrible weapon, it was made by my Grandfather, we are continuing to study it in the hopes of giving people and soldiers hurt in accidents and War a chance to live again."

She wasn't about to share that reparation payments had all but exhausted her family wealth, nor that she wasn't happy with being a walking technology demonstrator, but it likely would not be hard to guess, though it was possible the reporter would simply assume the worst.

"Even if it's not like their old life... Just what is it you want to know or that you think of me Reporter Namie? I would have rather talked to a guard and gotten out of here, but seems you're the only Company I have." She would have more likely wanted to talk with a cop. You would think they would try fixing information about this, she thinks to herself. It also bugged her how a reporter was just let down here, but there was nothing she could do.

Remembering her previous...nightmare, waking nightmare, hell, whatever it should be called, Alice bites her lip, whispering softly under a hushed tone. Or did you come to make fun of me too.

[/fieldbox]
 
[fieldbox=Onyx Norwyn, red]


By all rights, he should have been excited. And, admittedly, he kind of was. Onyx couldn't remember any moment in his life where'd he'd actually been this physically active with a girl. The only issue was that there was something about it that made him extremely uncomfortable. How did she know about his powers? Or the end result of him 'winning'? He wanted to back away, put some distance between them, but he froze and just maintained eye contact.

"I... I didn't enjoy it. There wasn't anything to enjoy. Alina and Yohan died. How do you even know about me 'winning'?" Onyx's eyes narrowed. "How much do you know? Because it seems like you know a hell of a lot more than me." He was quite paranoid and he felt justified in his paranoia. This was far too strange, but if he was lucky maybe he'd be able to get some answers.

'But if I got really lucky...'
[/fieldbox]
 
"Only company?" a voice echoed. "Hey now, have a heart."

Eventually deciding against waiting much longer, Alina had opted to instead investigate what she'd seen in the papers.
She'd had a few suspicions about the clockwork girl in the first place. The voice in the back of her mind might have been gone, but all that meant was she didn't know why she had her hunches.
It would be fine so long as she dropped back to the bench after. It wasn't as if her party members, so to speak, knew she was supposed to be there already.
"None of your concern," she had been told on making a certain discovery.
"Ah," she'd replied.
Well, it had been worth a try.
The sharp-eyed woman at the desk had given the impression of an immovable object, so she hadn't expected to get much out of her, but there was basically nothing to lose.
"Well, in that case, can I at least go in and deliver a message?" she'd asked.
"I don't see why not. Make it quick, though. She does have a guest already."
Alina had nodded. Yes, Alice seemed to have a lot of those lately.

That aside, she was here now, leaning against the doorway, having heard every moment of Alice's twisted excuse for an origin story.
"I don't know about the paper boy here, but I'm versed enough in the sciences to appreciate that your body is no mere homework project, Miss Engels."
A scheming grin crossed her lips.
"How's that eye treating you?"
 
@Jakers
"Damn son, mugged and got the evil eye from Warren? No wonder you hopped out of the Dropout District as fast as humanly possible!" The curly-haired youth laughed while keeping his teeth clenched, holding the pipe in place. Somehow, he was managing to speak clearly despite all this, and as the two of them strolled aimlessly through the avenues of Roaring Surf Street, the Eurasian man only shrugged and flourished once more, making the dice disappear from his hands.

"Guess I'll just hold onto these for you, if you ever get that itch back, kiddo."

As Yohan began to speak up about powers and such, however, the smile on his face simply grew. Toothier, and yet, not predatorial at all. "Nobody's that skilled?" he repeated, "Some sort of power? Not everything is so cut-and-dry. Compared to someone like you, I'm just a tad bit more experienced, a tad bit more aware."

His free hand brushed against his cheek, and as it was removed, a red four-leaf clover appeared on the surface of his skin.

"And a magician is nothing without their secrets, while your eyes tell a story all on their own. Planning on offering me something else?"

@RedArmyShogun @Random
As Alice went off about her story and her background, Namie quickly went to work, his eyes glittering with concentration as he jotted down notes. Accident involving dropped food and low budget, ultimately ending in a member of the Disciplinary Committee forcibly intervening and essentially knocking her out. But if the screams were all there was, standard procedure would be to communicate first. And according to his sources, other students had witnessed her attacking the first student that approached her, with a blow strong enough to knock him back.

So much for a 'terrible' weapon, huh?

"Not being in the Academy for long isn't an excuse for barely knowing anything about how the Academy functions," Namie chastised, "I'm going to assume you're a smart lass, Alice, so please. Do your research more thoroughly. There's food banks that some theological clubs hold, or you can start working for a club or two. Personally, your body's fascinating, in more ways than one, but objectively, people only care about your brain."

He casually flicked a strand of hair out of his eye.

"Really, if you're going to let something like dropping groceries break you, you need to see a counselor. Midterm rush is going to break you."

Before he could go any further, however, Alina made her presence known, and Namie's easy smile popped up once more. Turning to face the young lady, the journalist said, "Good evening, young lady. Friend of Ms. Engels here?"

@Jageroux
"Haven't looked in the mirror recently, Onyx?" she whispered, her breath tickling his skin. "The color of your eye has become quite exquisite."

Even as his paranoia heightened, heart rate rising and pupils dilating, Marionette's expression remained unchanged. A confidence and gravity that belonged to a queen, and a passionate, dispassionate allure that belonged to a goddess. Her hand continued to stroke his face comfortingly, as that pale coquettish smile lingered.

"Girls don't like men who are too direct," Marionette chided, placing a finger on his lips, "though I'm personally fond of men of action."

"Still, though, I suppose you did nothing to Yohan and Alina after all."

That smile became dismissive.

"Not when you'd allow one bearing the same eyes to get so close."

That smile disappeared.
 
[fieldbox= Alice Engels, plum, solid]

Sighing about the situation, Alice still didn't know why she struck out at that guy from before, no she knew why. It was that eye.. What she had seen, madness had swept over her, but could she really talk about that?

No, they would just make things worse for her, debating to mention the man she struck out at, Namie's next pieced of advice catch her a bit off guard. placing her clockwork hands on the bars a bit of a frown comes to her face. "I didn't want to come, but Grandfather said I needed to learn to live. I get it, I should try and learn.. If I did, I might not be in this spot." While it was true she knew her way with machines, she was totally and even a bit willfully ignorant about the Academy's life, but with that incident she likely wouldn't just be allowed to leave, and the dropout district wasn't much of an option.

His next remark however really did catch her off guard. The aspect of her body being fascinating, rather doubting he was making a pass at her, she was fairly used to being made fun of, feared or being a science project. This was something new, coming from someone who wasn't a Scientist at least. Unsure of what to say she does slightly smile as he continues, advising her on her mental health..

You're telling me.. But who would believe me.. I don't even believe it.. But I know it happened.

"It wasn't just that, I had flashbacks of the past. Like I said some of us have terrible memories.. It's just a relapse happens time to time, I was terrified." Mixing truth with lies in her explanation, it was reasonable enough as far as excuses went, or so she thought. Pondering if she should try testing the waters in regards to the truth, a white haired and blue eyed girl suddenly shows up;


"I don't know about the paper boy here, but I'm versed enough in the sciences to appreciate that your body is no mere homework project, Miss Engels."


"If only that were true.. My Grandfather did a rush job, no pla--" Before she can finish the reporter asks who he was, she had assumed she was working with him, as he turns away, the woman then asks a question that brings a look of dismay if not near terror to the machine girl's face.

How did she know of it, was she the mysterious gunner, the girl the other two went to save? Just someone else that knew of it, or was there? This was why she didn't want to be in here, she badly needed answers. But with that girl's sinister grin...

Taking a few deep breaths to banish the memory of that, thing, Alice tries to keep a clam appearance, even as her hands involuntarily grip the cell bars. "My flesh covered one is fine. The mechanical filter on the other is starting to stick, I need to perform maintenance on it and my other parts soon.. Which is hard to do here." Or did she somehow mean the Reporter.. No she had to have meant that eye. She could just tell the reporter she didn't know this girl, ask for her to leave, but something didn't feel right about it.

"Ah, she's from class... So, what can I do for you?" She asks the new arrival, trying to at least give Namie a somewhat satisfiable answer. Partly pondering to ask the girl to return later, the eye remark had really troubled her, plus she still had no idea when she could leave here. Waiting for a reply from either of the pair, it wasn't like she had much say in it, behind these bars.

[/fieldbox]
 
"But... you're... you're not even making hand movements half of the time, how is it even possible that you're..." Yohan began, but cut off as he looked at the floor. For some reason, he felt like he could've had the capability to know how this man was doing all these magic tricks, but alongside his knowledge of 'gambling', he'd lost any hints on how he accomplished that, as well, "...Ugh. Nevermind. When you find something you can't explain, you just point fingers to the outside of logic. I'm sure you've heard other people accuse you of being 'magical' or what have you before. Pay no mind to it..."

He'd been... outsmarted. He was being outsmarted at every turn. Even if it was something so minor, he suddenly had a feeling of being 'in the dark'.

And for a brief moment, the gravity of the situation was beginning to dawn on him.

Each time he went through that alternate world, he was losing knowledge. Parts of himself. Parts that made him, no matter how insufferable he may have been... him.

How long would it be before he couldn't recognise anything? Before he became a husk with no emotions, no memories? Before he didn't know anything at all other than to take orders, and be fooled by others at every turn? What if he couldn't even think by the time the seventh world came? He'd basically be... dead.

For a long while in this conversation with this stranger, Yohan's eyes stared into the blank nothingness, until they clicked back and laid eyes on the clover in the man's mouth. Oh, he could offer him a demonstration of breaking the laws of physics, but doing that in public wasn't safe. Not yet. He'd only 'translocate' in public when all hope was lost. To explain to the public what was going on, in a last ditch attempt. But the consequences of those actions would be unknown, and to his knowledge, he still had a 'chance' to figure this out himself.

Maybe there was a chance to fix this, before it got too late.

"...I don't have a lot to offer," he murmured, shaking his head. "You're clearly a very skilled man, and I respect that. But was there anything else you wanted, aside from returning my dice? ...I'm certainly not looking for a 'round two' after that," Yohan added, brushing his coat. He glanced behind him, wondering where Onyx and Alina, if she'd even been freed from that world, were at this moment in time. Even Madelon, the girl he thought he'd abandoned and had spotted in the dropout, was a query in the back of his mind.

There were so many things to prepare for, so many things to ponder. A sickening mystery. And even if he thought he hated every second of what he was going for... in a way, he was almost curious, rather than dreading, of what would come round the next corner.

"Because... not meaning to be rude, but I've got work to attend to."
 
Alina shrugged, letting out a little chuckle. "Nothing much. Honestly, I came to bail you out, but it looks like there are a lot of people more interested in you than I am," she shrugged.
She lifted a roll of newspaper a little from her jacket, then continued.
"Apparently you'll be out by tonight. If you want some answers about that blackbird you were wondering about the other day, then I'll be on a certain bench in Roaring Surf. There's a fountain. You'll know it when you see it."
She turned her attention to the journalist.
"Crazy thought, but maybe collaborate with the other clubs with a couple things on recent events? I'm sure a papers boy knows better than anyone how interconnected random things can be."
She stood up straight.
"Well, I'll be going. I am serious though. If you want peace of mind, come find me," she instructed. "I'll be waiting, Alice."
With that, she left, hands in pockets, heading right out the building.

Walking down the street back towards the bench once she'd left, her face slowly began to turn redder and redder.
Why did she think it was a good idea to do that? All she was there to do was to try to recruit that Engels girl.
There was absolutely no reason to put on some tryhard cool act like she had, and yet...
That was really humiliating...
But nobody seemed to have reacted badly. If anything, Alice Engels had seemed... intimidated?
W-was I cool?
Her face was still red, but a smile crept onto her lips.
I was cool! Ah, I was so cool!
What with how much she'd changed recently, it didn't even feel like she was talking about herself, but more like some guy she really wanted to screw right now.
That's me though. Do I want to screw me?
She thought about it for a moment, wondering whether she should be creeped out by her own thoughts or not.
Yeah, I'd screw me, she concluded. I'd screw me hard.
Brimming with gleeful confidence, she made her way back to her bench and waited.
 
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