time heals all wounds, makes us stronger, and grows us gundam robot limbs over our old ones

[keltena]

The apology cake I promised:



This apology is both retroactive and preemptive, because Fallen Hero: Retribution is out and !!!!!

Liveblog of the first few chapters below:

A quick summary of our hero, my very first MC:

Civilian name Jay Hsu. Villain name currently whatever the press came up with (it's "Mastermind"). Pretty thoroughly decent at heart, but also thoroughly done with bothering to even try honestly connecting with others, and constitutionally incapable of doing so in a non-caustic way. Stat-wise, spent Rebirth with high Empathy, very high Anonymity, and pretty high Caution.

75% derealization and gender dysphoria by body weight; the sole, faint silver lining to the Heartbreak incident was Sidestep's death, if only people would let her stay buried. The remaining 25% doesn't really know what it's supposed to be doing here except—for lack of a better idea—becoming a villain… but as it turned out, becoming a villain filled the hole inside Jay that he'd* never even been able to name. (Apparently "gender euphoria" is when your best friend genders the androgynous villain who just kicked his ass male by default!) From the moment he saw his new self, it's been the one choice he never questioned.

His puppet, Ronan, has ended up on more sincerely friendly terms with (f!)Mortum than he'd ever expected (though personally, I feel like it's approaching the point where returning her flirting counts as leading her on). Unsurprisingly, the world is far more enjoyable from the body of a normal, blandly-attractive white man — although since debuting as a villain, Jay's started to wonder if that's all it is…

Fell immediately back into a close friendship with (m!)Ortega despite himself, and has had a slight crush on him for basically forever, though in a sort of "not sure if wife goals or life goals" way (the mustache is neither). It has gotten rather less slight in light of Ortega's actual romantic interest in Ronan and his actual male body. No particular connection with the other Rangers, though the stat screen tells me Argent finds both Jay and his villainsona surprisingly likeable. Loathes Herald on principle but just finds him irritating as a person.

* Wouldn't actually refer to Jay as "he", but since I'll be defaulting to the name Jay for lack of a better option, I'd rather not misgender him.

It's there every time you stare into a mirror and see not only your face but the mask you've crafted to cover it. The one that can do what you can't, your new face.

—Oh, that's good. I hadn't even considered framing the mirrored helmet as a way of reclaiming mirrors. Damn that's good.

Ah, and I get to correct my media-assigned villain name right off the bat! Now that Jay's had time in-universe to think about it and realize what he wants…

Say goodbye to "Mastermind" and hello to ADAM.

Created in man's own image. Created to be obedient and unquestioning. The conflict between these design principles should have been obvious from the start. Their mistake was giving him knowledge enough of good and evil to see them for what they were—and knowledge enough of humanity to look upon his own naked form and find it wanting.

(Would Eve have been the more obvious choice? The question never occurred to Jay.)

Jay did not initially intend it to be in all-caps, but a couple journalists interpreted the mysterious block letters in their notes that way and it worked. Looks far more memorable, and keeps people guessing about the intent behind it.

You didn't kill anybody, but you've seen enough death to last you a lifetime.

Not of your doing, but the memory still lingers. The smell. The bodies.

How do you feel about that?

• Nobody dies on my watch; I will save them if I can.
• I don't want any more deaths on my conscience.
• What happens, happens. The important thing is my plans.
• I'm willing to kill villains and agents, not civilians.
• With my powers, nobody needs to know that I'm a killer.
• Human lives mean nothing; I've killed many by now.

Oh, I love the expanded array of options. I feel so powerful!

In any case, Jay really isn't a killer in general, but if it were him or his enemies, he wouldn't hesitate. (…Well. For most possible values of "enemies".)

Not that it matters; even the humiliating defeat you put him through didn't ruin him. He's back in the media's graces again, more relatable for having been broken.

The only casualty is rumored to have been his relationship with Lady Argent.

Aw, and here I was enjoying the world's worst fake dating fic. :P

—Ha, it just occurred to me to check the stat screen and of course Lady Argent gets a whole relationship bar for your villainsona. Never change, Argent.

(Just going to quietly mentally overwrite that pronoun in ADAM's blurb; Jay might still be working things out, but he's definitely never thought of ADAM as female.)

Huh, I guess the game doesn't track whether you visited Ortega in the hospital?

Fighting Ortega was a kick. No, it was the best fight you've ever had. Fighting side by side was always fun, but those days are over. This is the new you taking charge. Literally.

goddammit Jay

Ooh, we've unlocked facial hair! General "we", I mean, Jay specifically has definitely not unlocked that yet, but still!

(The ultimate power move would be to convince m!Ortega to shave off his mustache, then immediately grow one yourself.)

Okay I need to stop commenting on every shiny new customization option, so I'll just say I'm very excited about the option to be on last name/nickname terms and leave it at that.

Pretending to be normal is a delicate balance. Looking at his face but not his eyes, or that spot on the horizon right over his ear. You should never have removed the mask; behind those opaque lenses, nobody noticed whether you were making eye contact or not.

I get you, Jay, I'm autistic too.

"Still trying to save the world all on your lonesome?"

"Saving the world is a bit above my pay grade." Ortega shrugs; is he being humble? Doesn't sound like him. "I'll settle for saving people."

Oh good, my favorite show "MC Is a Terrible Judge of Ortega's Character" is back for another season. <3

There's a moment when you look at him, when he isn't looking at you. A moment when you can let your guard down. Think about what you really want.

• I want something more, and I'm willing to take a chance.
• He's my friend; even after everything that's happened.
• I will bury my crush; he can never know how I feel.
• This is too complicated; I don't know what I'm going to do.
• I need him to back off; we can't get too close.

Look. Even if Jay were somehow willing to consider pursuing relationships as Jay (no), the last time he talked to Ortega about his feelings he somehow ended up agreeing to see a therapist! It is a matter of national security that these feelings remain buried.

In a way, becoming a villain has felt like coming home. Back when you started, you didn't know what you wanted, only that your fall from grace felt as inevitable as you plummeting out that window.

…

And yet, time has passed; did things change?

Do you still feel this was inevitable?

• Yes, my original motivation still holds true.
• No, I've realized the real reason why I do this.

Oh. That's a choice I wasn't expecting. Hm.

The thing is, it's become pretty clear by now what Jay wants out of this: self-actualization. Just *being* ADAM is the goal. The question is whether it's possible to fit that into any of the existing motivations…

I'm going to tentatively say that "I just want to live my life" seems like the best fit, because "I don't know what I want" just isn't true anymore.

You'll make the most of the time you have, and to help you do that, you have become…

• A hero hunter, fighting my old allies.
• A mob boss, creating my own criminal organization.
• An anarchist, fighting the system.
• A thief, stealing everything I can get away with.

Oh, these look fun.

…

And I am predictably unsure which to go with for Jay, because… as discussed, his villainous goals aren not primarily about accomplishing anything external. Definitely couldn't be bothered with the anarchist option, and being stuck with a whole organization is the opposite of what he'd want… Thief would be more individualistic, but it's not exactly a passion project for him…

…You know, I think hero hunter really is the best fit, even if his motives for it would be hilariously far from most people's assumption. His objective at the gala was to erase his past, but nothing made him feel alive like going up against his old team in his new skin and winning. A bit of a violent way to seek validation, perhaps, but hey—those heroes knew the risks when they signed up to be symbolic representations of his past.

• The heroes need to be destroyed, so they don't stand in my way.
• I fight to show that I'm better than them.
• The heroes are too weak; I'll make them stronger.

I am making such intense eyes emojis at that last option. Definitely not for Jay, but wow, I might have to find an excuse to make an MC who would.

You still haven't managed to get your cape back, and at this point, it feels like admitting defeat to get a new one. One day…

I was hoping for the cape saga to continue!

Lou Carter has been the city treasurer for years. Treating the city's coffers as his own personal piggy bank, he's remained one of Mayor Alvarez's closest allies by erasing any obstacles in her way. In return, she looks the other way as yet another project of his goes absurdly over budget.

This means he's got a target painted on his back, and he knows it.

You don't really care about his fortune; sure, it might be nice spending money to nab while you're here, but what you're really interested in is the rumors that he's hired protection.

Hero protection.

I love it when the first story branch I pick turns out to be the one with the most tenuous connection to the common plot. :D I also appreciate the image of ADAM menacing random VIPs just to get close to their bodyguards. Imagine thinking you have a nemesis, and it turns out they're just using you for your connections!

"Alarms malfunction all the time, and mostly for not-villainous reasons." is a nice sentence.

Softening your footsteps, you head toward the dampeners. This close, all you have to do is aim for the heaviest pressure. Self-harm as a proactive thing; find the cause of your suffering and put it out.

Start with the small ones. You'll move up eventually.

This is a candidate for "most painfully on-brand passage in the series so far".

At least right now, you're not alone. The Rat King is still close enough to be felt thanks to your neural connection, reminding you that this is the present, not the past.

<3!

Rat friends best friends.

Huh, it's Steel? Hadn't really expected to fight him indoors, but cool.

He's wearing combat armor like you are, not his heavy military one for the huge threats, but the midrange one for patrols and flexibility. Armored. Fast. Missiles. A short-range plasma cutter.

Ah okay, that makes sense.

"Just another contract killer." Marshal Steel's voice is slightly metallic beneath his helmet, but his modulators are not made to mask his voice like yours are. "I thought you were an independent operator."

Gosh, Chen, is it really so hard to believe we came to see you?

...Maybe not the best idea to let your charge run off with the actual killer still out there, though. That could be awkward later.

You've had two months to get comfortable in your armor; he's had decades. He has the United States government footing the bill, bringing the expertise, and you have what? An eccentric scientist? A bunch of rats?

First of all, how dare you. Second of all, seriously, how dare you? Don't talk to me, my favorite mad scientist, and my five rat children ever again.

You could end this right now. You could reach out and devour his armor. And his mods.

Maybe that's what's stopping you. How would you make the nanovores separate the armor from the man? Steel is reliant on cybernetics to function; it's not just mods for mods' sake.

You could kill him if you miscalculated even a little.

...That is a good point I hadn't even considered. They aren't exactly nonlethal with this many cyborgs around, are they? They could easily kill half the Rangers at least. (God only knows how they'd fare against Argent — do nothing? Eat her alive? Get eaten by sharks?)

Achievement: Get Carter
You got more or less what you came for in the Carter mansion.

"Technically I fought a hero for like five minutes, and that's what counts! Money and/or politics who?"

It feels impossible to bridge the gap between you and the world. You don't know where to start. Is there even a door?

Somehow you doubt that. Everybody else was born inside, fitting seamlessly into their surroundings, never even knowing there's anything special about that.

They don't even notice that some people are not like them.

They might not notice, but they do pick that up something is wrong with you.

With the way you smile. With the way you act. You were trained to fit in seamlessly, but can you be that person anymore? And if you can't, what use are you?

...

You know what, let me just add an entry to my existing play log:

Rebirth, playthrough 1: Is it just me, or is becoming a supervillain a heavy-handed metaphor for being trans?
Rebirth, playthrough 2: …or is being trans a metaphor for being a renegade lab-grown superspy?
Retribution, playthrough 1: Is being a renegade lab-grown superspy a heavy-handed metaphor for being autistic?

It took several trips to city hall to find the right cog in the wheel, the right brain to pick for possible locations.

The right cog turned out to be a low-level bureaucrat in charge of zoning, with a grudge against the city because they kept approving residential housing on dangerous ground. With an already suspicious mind in place, it was easy enough to get her to switch the codes on the property you wanted, turning a possible renovation option into a ruined shell sitting on ground at risk for a landslide. Useless to everyone else. Perfect for you.

This nameless fictional bureaucrat will never know I exist, but I want her to know that I love her.

Oh no, the "sorry about flirting, I'm only interested in you platonically" scene with Dr. Mortum is so sweet. I love her so much. …Pity about the whole shameless, bald-faced deception thing. (Mortum deserves so much better, but what they get is us.)

You check your HUD; the boat is still in position at the far side of the bridge. Good. Rosie wasn't overly happy with that particular kind of getaway vehicle, but you've been assured that the owner is used to stranger jobs than this. If they run the smuggling route to Mexico, you suppose that must be true. The sea is strange these days.

Dammit, now I have to know what's wrong with the sea. Can't even complain about the game doing this to me, because I knew what I was getting into. :P

I like the Handyman! I wish him good luck in whatever story he's the protagonist of.

Outgunned and Outmatched: The Handyman couldn't even delay you.

Ah, and this looks like a part where my career choice fits so seamlessly with the common plot that the achievement text didn't quite account for it.

"I can take her in a fair fight," says ADAM, who has never done anything of the kind and has an almost entirely defensive build, because admitting otherwise would ruin the power fantasy.

Last time there was no clear winner because you didn't have a good enough reason to end her. Not in the sewers where nobody was watching.

Sure, let's say that's why. Not like she almost killed you or anything.

"Don't want this to end too fast." She smirks as she circles you, and you're struck by the look of abject joy on her face. She really loves this.

Well, there's something you might be coming to have in common...

you use that moment of pained confusion to drive a jagged blade of will into her mind.

Pain. You and her, like lightning spiraling out around the blow and she's screaming, hands clawing at her face, not breaking her skin. Interesting.

She stumbles backward into one of the parked cars, face contorted in agony. She lashes out, punching the car once, twice, three times, tearing at the steel with a ferocity that makes you wonder if she's gone mad with agony.

There's a horrific grind of steel as she buries both hands in the wrecked car, howling to the skies.

You're screaming with her.

You have no idea where the feedback came from. It's pure reflex that makes you tear yourself from her mind and stagger away, like touching a hot plate and having it wrap around your hand. You need to run. You know this with the instinct of a rodent in an open field. You recognize the urge, but you don't understand it, your brain is hurting worse than…

…not Heartbreak. That's not it.

You smell burning hair, and then you run. You run because you don't want to die. You run because you remember, because you know you're prey, because you can't breathe and…

…you fall.

Huh.

Pinning this to my conspiracy board with a note to come back to it later, because dang.

!!!! Anathema

…lmao, apparently Argent was so unimpressed by that last move she took her entire relationship bar and went home. Incredible.

The fact that you have to either commit to Dr. Mortum or stop flirting, but can remain in the vague flirting zone with Ortega forever is a great character note.

Yesss, more options for genderfeels. I've been hoping for those!

Your style is masculine and…

Select a style:
• Nondescript.
• Worn.
• Fashionable.
• Grungy.
• Expensive.
• Quirky.
• Edgy.

Select a fashion:
• Suits.
• Sportswear.
• Elegance.
• Military surplus.
• Streetwear.
• Preppy.
• Casual.

That is some incredible potential for galaxy brain combinations.

Not that Jay will take any of them. Dressing up a body is like naming an animal: it implies that you're going to keep it.

"Jay!"

"What?" You suppress a groan because his thoughts hit you before you've even turned around. But when you do, it's with a bland smile on your face. "Oh. Herald." Your tone is polite because while it's annoying that he uses your name, you did tell him to do exactly that. Better than Sidestep. Still, the familiarity makes you cringe, especially since you don't know his name. He's still Herald to you.

Meanwhile I'm sitting here having the exact opposite reaction, because Herald getting more screentime is one of the things I've been most hyped for. Sorry about your life, Jay.

[Lady Argent] falls silent as the elevator rises, and after a few seconds, there is a soft ping as the doors open up behind her once more. She turns to leave without a word; whether this is her floor or she's exiting the awkward conversation, you're not sure.

It's definitely the latter, and I love her for it.

Anyway, as much as Jay might like an excuse not to hang around Herald, spending time with Lady Argent in civilian form definitely isn't it. (And far be it from him to stand up for Herald.)

"That went surprisingly well…." Is that a smile on Herald's face? It is, and one good enough for the cover of a magazine. Everything he does seems so effortless.

"Your definition of 'well' is a liberal one," you grunt.

"Always look on the bright side, you know? This team needs an optimist."

I appreciate this game supporting my prior stance that Herald Is Pretty Great, Actually.

"Sorry, I've got rehab, and I trust you." His smile is sheepish, and you can see that he wants to take you up on your offer, so you quickly shoo him out.

"Then get going. I'll manage." More rehab? Maybe you hurt him more than you originally thought.

Huh. ADAM didn't maim him, just scared him, so is there something else going on? I guess maybe he could just have therapy and be embarrassed to admit it, but...

Looking around for a clean cup, you find plenty, though they are all new and branded with the Rangers' logo. There's no trace of the old ones, chipped and personal, and in Ortega's case, the one that you gave him. Did someone throw them out when they moved?

You didn't expect to care. Or to get hurt by it.

:(

Steel feels taller than he used to; you think his new mods have added a few inches to his height. Annoyingly, he was tall enough before.

Huh — since last game, since he was our height then? Interesting.

"Afraid that I'm going to raid your fridge? Or sell the secret that someone's not been doing the dishes?"

"That's no secret. That's Herald." This time the sigh is audible, and the frown is aimed at the stack of dirty dishes piled in the sink. Someone has eaten dinner recently. Messily.

Ah, so he does have a dark side. I won't pretend I'm shocked, Herald, but I am disappointed.

"You don't understand," you start, and since Steel doesn't interrupt, you continue. "Imagine that you are inviting me into your apartment. Just because I walk through the door doesn't mean that I will run around and tear open every closet and open every drawer. A telepathic intrusion is not something that just happens; it requires work and is dangerous."

"You still see my apartment." A stone might have budged; Steel does not.

"Is that so bad?" you say and try to look innocent as you continue, "I mean, I can see how it could be bad if you had something to hide in there that you never wanted anyone to see."

"It's not like that," he deflects, looking defensive. Good.

Oh, that's just mean, Jay. :P

"My point is, my telepathy isn't telling me anything that a conversation with you over coffee wouldn't. Reading someone's intention is not that different from reading someone's body language."

"Both are terrifying arcane arts that neurotypicals get mad at you for not doing."

"I went looking for you."

Looking for you… It takes a moment for you to add things up. Is he talking about the aftermath of the Heartbreak incident? Is that it?

"I thought they told you I was dead?" You phrase it like a question because you're on thin ice here. You can feel it creaking beneath you.

"They did." He looks just as nervous as you feel. "And I know I should have believed them, but I had a bad feeling about the whole thing. Something wasn't adding up. They told me it was residual trauma from whatever the hell Heartbreak was."

Ohhh. That does make sense; he didn't seem like the type to have no questions about the situation, if the official story was really all he knew.

"And did you find anything?"

"Not you."

"But you found something." That's evident from the look on his face.

"Enough that I stopped looking." He looks away; you can see that he's closing himself off again, one lock at a time.

Well damn. Is that enough that it was too dangerous to keep looking, or enough that someone told him to stop, I wonder?

I'm really curious how far he got. If he knows something, that could potentially recontextualize any interaction he's had with the MC since their return.

"Don't you want to find out what messed up the Rangers?" you ask, not filling in the rest of the sentence. Even if you didn't matter, the team did.

"I do care about the Rangers. We were in tatters. I needed to focus on the team." He's evading. You know it. So does he.

"Bullshit." You've raised your voice again. "There's something you're not telling me."

"There's a lot of things I'm not telling you." He gets to his feet, giving you a challenging look. "If you want to know, you can always read my mind."

"You're such an asshole." You could read his mind, but knowing that he has something to hide now, means you have to be more careful about it. Not when he's on guard, with all his defenses up.

… Jay, I don't think he is being an asshole. I think that's a plausibly-deniable invitation.

He chose to bring this subject up — here, in a heavily-surveilled government building. He explicitly told you that what he learned was so dangerous, he didn't even dare pursue it further. And then he refused to say any more and, when you objected, pointedly reminded you that you're a mind reader.

I admit I don't know Steel very well, but even if I'm wrong, he's still handed you an extremely convenient excuse to try. Reading his mind now won't make him suspect you're a supervillain; the worst he'll think is that you're willing to violate his privacy for information that directly concerns you if he deliberately provokes you into doing so.

Following him in silence, you climb two sets of utility stairs, which makes you realize that Ortega has the slightest trace of a limp. It's not much, and if you didn't know him, you wouldn't have spotted it. Interesting. It's not an injury you remember causing or reading about.

Interesting. And concerning, but "that's concerning" is basically Ortega's middle name.

You ponder bringing it up as you walk through an unfamiliar corridor but decide not to. You might need a good distracting argument if this discussion goes wrong.

God I love the MC. So much. Where else would I get this level of 4-dimensional mind chess every time we talk to our best friend?

"Not too private with the new security systems." You recognize some things in here; Ortega occasionally had his own files on various villains back when he was marshal, especially when he suspected information leaks. It looks like he has kept up the habit. "Or are you going to tell me they didn't upgrade them with the rest of the place?"

"They did, but this place is off the grid." The smug look on his face tells you that he's serious, no matter how improbable it sounds.

See, now if Ortega refuses to tell you dangerous government secrets here you have justifiable cause to be angry.

You walk over to the whiteboard, trying to interpret the scribbles. Most of them have been wiped out, but lines are connecting to suspiciously empty places. Did they hold photographs? If so, who's supposed to be in the center where all the lines meet?

Hollow Ground, probably? Apparently Ortega has a Thing about them.

"You have a point." A moment passes, and then he cracks a grin. "Not a point I'm going to listen to, but a point nonetheless."

ortega.txt

You need somewhere to look that's not him, so you look over at the board. Tangled webs, threads going back and forth, and a black silhouette with a question mark in the center. Hollow Ground. The mythical kingpin of Los Diablos and the one that killed Marshal Hood, Ortega's mentor.

Ah, so that's why.

And I guess that's not the mysterious empty spot on the board, then? Hm. :|a

"He's a reporter. Was a reporter." There's a twitch on his face that you know well enough to interpret as pain. "After you…died, he kept badgering us. Me."

"I don't get the feeling that ended well." Not from the look of it.

"I punched him. On national television." You're not sure if Ortega is embarrassed or proud about that. "At your funeral." A soft laugh. "I quit the next week. Think they would have fired me otherwise. For being 'unprofessional and irrational.'" The quotation marks he makes with his fingers are sharp like daggers.

...Man. I feel like the MC not knowing this really underscores that they must have avoided the subject of Ortega like the plague since their return, because "resigned after punching a reporter on live television" is the sort of thing even a skim of Charge's Wikipedia article could tell you. I mean, I know the government has more control over the press in this world, but that's just unavoidably public knowledge.

"Why did you do that?" you ask. Ortega usually had the patience of an angel when it came to the press. Except around you. No…for you.

You remember having dinner with him after you had decided to reveal your face, and there was paparazzi outside, and Ortega just got that wicked little smile, and the camera pointed at your face exploded in a stray electrical surge. An accident, he had called it, told the man to bill the Rangers. At the time, you believed him; after the third time, you realized he was protecting you. Keeping your face out of the newspaper, just like he promised.

Oh no that's so sweet. ;__;

"He showed up at your funeral," he still sounds angry about it, "dragging up things that were none of his business, of course I would deck him."

"Dragging up what?" You have frozen solid, but you keep the faint smile on your face. Don't let anything show. Good thing you've got practice by now.

"He was a conspiracy theorist." Ortega looks away. That's a tell. Is he lying to you? "Started ranting about all sorts of nonsense. I can't remember half the things he said, just that he did it at the wrong time."

…now that's interesting. Not the implication that it was more than baseless conspiracy theories, but the fact that Ortega thinks so too.

What was it? It has to be something that Ortega would either be worried about our reaction to hearing, or not want us to know he knows … or wait, if this was on national television, it would be easy to find out what the reporter was saying at the time, so he can't exactly keep it secret anyway. Something he feels very uncomfortable mentioning to us, then.

"You're naive, Ricardo." If there ever were a true statement, that was it.

Ah yes, more of my favorite show. *munches popcorn*

jesus fucking christ herald, ASK first???

"Would Sidestep have punched you in the face?" you ask with barely suppressed annoyance.

"I suppose I deserved that." Herald rubs his sore face. "And you did. Sometimes. Back then. Punch people."

New contender for single most infuriating thing Herald has ever done to Jay: effortlessly ruin his comebacks by being reasonable.

Even though you know it is the smart thing to do, it still feels like pulling teeth.

The gentle impact of metal against your molar. Fighting against the tongue depressor.

A flash of memory best forgotten.

"Oh for fuck's sake, brain, it was a METAPHOR. That flashback wasn't even plot-relevant!"

What good is money if it can't buy you the kind of life you always wanted? What good is a nice apartment if you still have to hide inside it? Inside your clothes despite the heat of this city?

They're there. They're always there.

You run your fingers over the barcode that runs down the center of your chest, containing all the information about you in compressed form, thick, deep, and very brightly orange. It's the center, and the rest of your tattoos spread out from it.

They look strange against your skin, slick and shiny as if they had been inked yesterday, covering every part of your body not commonly exposed to the world. Your face is clean. Your neck. Hands and lower arms. Feet and ankles. Everything else is marked and must be covered by clothes at all times.

Explicit confirmation at last! God, it feels surreal to finally be here.

The contrast would have been better against blue skin, but you're a cuckoo. You have to look human on the outside.

—ohhh, that's "cuckoo" as in "nest parasite"? I hadn't realized until now that it was the name for the type of Re-Gene the protagonist is; I figured it was just dehumanizing code speak for discussing escapees. I wonder if there's other classes of Re-Gene named with animal terms, given they call it "The Farm" and all? None of the standard combat/spec ops types seemed to be, but maybe there's others.

Glad I had the right idea about why their visible skin looked normal, in any case.

Unless the prototype does what it promises. True skin regeneration, without scars.

... You know, I genuinely have no idea how to expect this to turn out. That would be a huge deal if true, to the point my instincts say there's no way this can possibly go as planned, but this story has so many present or readily-available sources of conflict that it's really not crucial for any one major thing to fall through. :|a All I can say is, I'm intensely curious to see how this goes.

There she is, a tall, busty young woman with roots showing in her blond hair. She's dancing with a fit, Asian man, Southeast Asia if you had to guess. Could it be Umbral? You doubt it; according to what you've heard, he's white.

Hm. Jake, or some new character?

Welp, looks like we're back in "does the puppet have some kind of weird precognition powers?" land.

I love that "I should drag Mortum clubbing…" option. Flawless priorities.

"So Jake." The woman nearly shouts to make herself heard over the music. "When are you gonna introduce me to Hollow Ground?"

Ah, it is him. And apparently the girlfriend is here with an agenda.

What were you thinking? Wasn't it enough to stick close to the Rangers? You don't need to go out of your way to interact one-on-one, right?

As if Ortega wasn't enough of a problem. Are you that determined to cause trouble for yourself?

At least Herald is easier to deal with. You're gathering information that you can use later. Against the Rangers. Against him. That's all this is, right?

Right. An opportunity. That's all he is. A way for you to get your way. Use him. You've already learned more about the inner workings of the team than you hoped for.

Yes. An opportunity to gather entirely practical intel is definitely what it is. It's not like Jay's exposing himself to the single person who irritates him most as a deliberate form of low-level self-harm to further stoke his resentment, or anything. That would be ridiculous.

"Doesn't matter, I'm not Sidestep anymore," you grimace.

"I know." Out of breath, talking anyway. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine." You try to ignore the burning in your own thighs. "Now I'm Jay. Do you have a—"

"Herald is fine, really," he finally reaches the top, leaning gratefully against the door. "That's who I am now."

Oh, that's interesting, he prefers it. No wonder he keeps stumbling against the MC's boundaries; they're the opposite of his.

I love that the option "Despite everything, I actually like him." is just grayed out for Jay. Accurate.

Huh, the stuff about his center of gravity is pretty interesting.

You're sitting in the lab, the green shift too short, open in the back, easy access for their tools. Not covered. Not hiding. Just enough to spare their eyes. They don't care about your sense of decency, only their own.

They don't want to look at you. You pick that up in the body language that they taught you how to read.

You're too close to human. Skin like theirs. Normal. In the shift, you can remain alien, your tattoos revealed in sickly orange marking you as other. As a tool. As a pretender. A doll. A puppet.

God, that's a really good detail.

As the dog sets off, he gives you a sidelong glance. "I see you're still doing it."

"Doing what?"

"You never ask for names." You can't read his face, but his thoughts are a mixture of sadness and caution. "I always thought it was a telepath thing. That you didn't ask because you already knew."

"I don't ask because I don't care," you say, looking away. "Most of the time. I would like to know his."

"Spoon."

"Huh." You give him a long look, trying to see if he's kidding. Looks like he's not.

• "Did you name him yourself?"
• "What kind of name is that?"
• "In case you run out of spoons?"

One of my best friends has a dog he calls Aux — short for Auxiliary Serotonin. I suppose Spoon would be the normal person equivalent of that. It's a cutesier naming choice than I would have expected from Chen; go figure.

Not one to waste such an opportunity, you invited one of the sharpest pens the city has, Mia Ochoa. She's been interested in ADAM for a while now, might as well make use of that.

:D :D :D

She's here!!

"Oh, you know as well as I do that anything can be bought in this town, including people. I wish…"

"You wish…," you prod, trying to prompt her to give up her secrets without you having to go digging for them.

"It's nothing…," she says, but there sure is something. Could she talk about it? With an infamous villain? You have no ties to the city; rather the opposite. "I guess it's just that someone I know was hurt pretty badly by them." You're picking up flashes, a black man with a wide smile, an apartment filled with files, the memory smelling of pride and disappointment.

Huuh. Is that the same reporter Ortega punched?

It is!

God, I really hope we get to follow up more on this storyline in this game. Easily the one that has me most excited so far.