247 lines
11 KiB
Markdown
247 lines
11 KiB
Markdown
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---
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title: 00058
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created: Sat, 21 Jan 2023 16:24:45 -0700
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updated: Sun, 29 Jan 2023 11:02:32 -0700
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public: yes
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syndicated: yes
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---
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### 00058 {#00058}
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> *(A week prior)*
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>
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> The secretary collected the stack of papers that had accumulated at
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> one corner of the desk. "This might help," she said, setting down a
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> bundle of herbs with white and pink flowers in place of the papers.
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>
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> Inky stared at the blooms, hands stilled over the owl's plumage.
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> "Oh! Thanks. Good thinking, really. It'll help make the stench more
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> bearable when they find the remains."
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>
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> The grey elf was confused for a moment, then mortified as the words
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> sank in. "That's not what I meant! It's for the circle," she
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> clarified.
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>
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> Seeing the imp's preoccupied nod, she coughed lightly to regain
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> their attention, then spoke in a hushed voice. "Beaker's associates
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> have picked up the empanada shop proprietor and transported him to
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> an undisclosed location. There will be a retinue with him at all
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> times."
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>
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> Inky seemed to visibly pull themselves back to the room before
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> responding, "Thank you, Salvia. One more thing — if I do not return
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> by the indicated time, please activate the hitsuzen protocol. As
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> precaution."
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>
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> The secretary looked at Inky in concern. "Is everything all right?
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> If you're still troubled by the hotelier, accidents happen. A
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> single incident—"
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>
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> "Third. An unidentified man was attacked at the docks. He was
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> probably sent to investigate the melon vendor. One of the other
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> stall owners heard him asking questions shortly after the melon
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> vendor disappeared."
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>
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> Salvia's violet eyes narrowed. "What, the fruit vendor? Didn't the
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> tabloids say it was an accident? He tried to get rid of a
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> neighbor's nest of snakes."
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>
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> Inky only raised an eyebrow at her.
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>
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> The secretary let out a low curse. "You didn't tell her. You didn't
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> want her to worry," she said aloud in realization. She sighed.
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> "She's going to be pretty angry with you when she finds out, you
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> know."
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>
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> Inky offered her a sardonic smile. "Making people angry is my job.
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> You of all people know this well. In the event of my timely demise
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> I'm sure the others would find it cause for a grand celebration."
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> They replied matter-of-factly before returning to smoothing the
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> feathers of one bird wing.
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>
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> Salvia shook her head vehemently. "That's not true. You'll make it
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> back, Ink. What then—"
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>
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> "Then our fair Lady's ire would be the least of the problems."
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~
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> Alex stared morosely into his cup of coffee. He'd received word of
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> agent 5's demise that morning, and had been the only thing on his
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> mind since. 5, no Be'tram knew the risks, we all knew the risks
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> defying HQ brought, but to happen so suddenly? He'd snuck down to
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> the wharf once he'd heard, making sure to cover his tracks and
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> dodge any potential witnesses. He even managed to slip past the
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> police cordon they'd setup around the body. What he'd found wasn't
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> pretty, it looked like Be'Tram had suffered in his final moments.
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> The bruising around his neck pointed to strangulation, with some
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> sort of cloth, perhaps a rope. The bruising was deep, and there
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> wasn't a cut, burn, shot or something of the likes on his
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> otherwise.
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>
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> The kill had been intimate.
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>
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> Alex had worked quickly that night, popping Be'Tram's eye had been
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> hard, but he'd of wanted Alex to have it. Behind his right eye was
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> a recording device, it could only catch the last 15m or so of what
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> he had seen, but it would give him a clear look at what had
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> happened. And potentially lead Alex to the killer. Miserable
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> business, but Be'Tram knew it could make a difference.
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>
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> Alex had planted a bomb on the body after he had extracted the eye,
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> and made his way well away from the area before it went off
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> obliterating the remains. A regrettable end for an old friend, but it
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> was too dangerous to leave.
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>
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> And then there was the matter of the zabbix alert, a little purple
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> red critical for the sewer hideout. He'd had time to send out a
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> drone beetle. The smoldering slag that was left was reassuring.
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> Most of the equipment was utterly destroyed, racks upon racks of
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> servers reduced to twisted melted metal. The effectively of the
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> destruction was delightful, in a sick sort of desperate way. Alex
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> felt assured that most if not all of the equipment was useless, but
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> this spelled the end of a valuable listening outpost. And whoever
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> had done it wasn't part of the slag pile.
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>
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> Alex stood up, his coffee untouched. The cafe around his burbled in
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> quiet excitement. The city had lit up since the Melon vendor's
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> death. A thousand rumors abounded about it, but none of them held
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> true; some said the city had become dangerous, a crime syndicate
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> had arisen in the neighboring city block another thought, and did
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> you hear about the explosion at the wharf the other night, the city
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> was electric, yet somehow ever so slightly off the pulse of the
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> issue.
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>
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> As Alex stepped away a woman with horn rimmed glasses strode past
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> the table he had just abandoned, deftly pulling the note from
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> beneath the coffee cup, left for her.
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>
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> ```
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> 4 -> 3
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> Daylight breaks on the morrow
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> The suns rays make chase
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> casting soft cloth
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> across the nap of nature's neck
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>
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> So, night relents and gives way
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> biding time until
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> it can rule
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> in its own domain
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> ```
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>
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> For the passerby, it was but a bit of poetry, scribbled carelessly
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> on the back of a napkin in a coffee near the wharf. But for Agent 3
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> it was a warning, one part notes on Agent 5s demise recovered from
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> his eyecam, one part orders; stay low and we'll strike these
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> bastards from the shadows, on our terms, on our ground. Similar
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> missives were delivered to Agents 6 & 7. The numbers were
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> dwindling rapidly, even just one agent lost was hard to stomach.
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>
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> Alex hand gripped the pistol in his coat pocket with a white
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> knuckled grip as he stepped from the coffee shop into the city.
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> Whatever was after him, whatever had gotten to Be'Tram, it had
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> better know he was coming, and he'd happily send it straight to
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> hell. HQ be damned, the rules be damned, this little game of cat
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> and mouse had just gotten personal.
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~
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> Alex, Inky, Confidence, Bread, and Agent 7 find themselves in a
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> dark backroom in a secluded corner of an old fish processing plant
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> on the wharf. The accommodations are rough, and the stench is
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> abhorrent, but it's the best that could be procured in a pinch. And
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> it should provide enough seclusion.
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>
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> The backroom is like that of many factories, high up near the
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> ceiling, a single rusty rickety staircase winds its way along the
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> side of the building for what seems to be 3 flights, before it
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> reaches a metal room with dusty grimy windows, and a single
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> steel door. The windows on the interior overlook the fish
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> processing plant, where rows of belts and machinery stand still,
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> covered in dust and long forgotten blood. You're glad to know that
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> the factory stopped operating years ago, hygiene is lacking in every
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> sense.
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>
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> Alex stares forlornly out the exterior windows, the sky is a grey
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> overcast, it matches his mood perfectly. He didn't like what him
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> and Inky were about to do, but they didn't have much they could do
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> about it. They would be vulnerable for the duration of the ritual.
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> But Agent 7 and Confidence were there to help mitigate that risk.
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> Alex and Agent 7 had taken every precaution they could think of.
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>
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> The plant floor was scattered with booby traps, trip wires, and
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> alarms. The other agents were laying low, but kept drones around
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> the wharf feeding in a network of twtxt data back to Agent 7 for
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> recon. And that was on top of the double barred steel doors, and
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> reinforced glass box they'd chosen as their hide out. Meticulously
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> planned, Alex expected no less from Agent 7.
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>
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> See Marvelo had been at this as long as Alex had, and then some. He
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> was sharp as a tack, with an animal-like third sense that came from
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> years of close calls. He was, simply put, the right man for the
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> job, when that job was keeping your unconscious ass alive.
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>
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> Alex turns away from the window and addresses Inky. "Apologies for
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> the smell, it turns out there's a strong correlation between
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> disgust and seclusion, but I believe we should at least be safe
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> here. Safer than we would have been back home. I'm ready if you
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> are, as ready as I'll ever be that is."
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The Golden Iris have summoned you to appear at the Harpoon Club this
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evening. But the Harpoon Club is nowhere to be found on this plane of
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existence. It won't appear until a week and a half from now, on the
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last day of the month.
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Confidence the Guide has predicted exactly where the Wandering Bazaar
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will be on that day. With a small bucket of red paint and a large
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brush, he has drawn a Linking Sigil on the ground at the location. He
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sits nearby, making sure careless passersby and mischievous kids
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don't disturb it, but otherwise letting the sigil absorb the energies
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of the bustle of shopping and commerce.
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At the fish market, Marvelo is posted outside. He keeps vigilant
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watch, alert to every movement and disturbance.
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And inside, Bread, Inky, Fuko, and Alex are huddled up in the office
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in the back near the ceiling. They all sit inside a dark circle that
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has been smudged on the floor with a paste made of ash and salt.
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Painted on the ground is a second Linking Sigil, connecting this spot
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to Confidence's, allowing the energies of the two locations to
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co-mingle. There is also the Dream Sigil, which will connect this
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place to the Dreaming.
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Bread the Host is propped up on some pillows and cushions in the
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center of the circle, next to the Nyxmaer. The candle is alleged to
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be made of the flesh and fat of a certain nightmare. Its hand and eye
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bound in the wax. The Dream Sigil is the door, but the Nyxmaer is the
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key. The catalyst that will cause all of the otherwise inert
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metaphysical particles to become volatile and reactive. It is what
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will allow you to actually pass over and arrive on the shores of the
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Sea of Dreams.
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Per the shop witch's instructions, the Nyxmaer has been placed on a
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thin, hard tin plate. As the candle burns, the wax will soften and
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eventually allow the large metal nail in its side to fall. When it
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strikes the plate, you will awaken, exiting the Dreaming. You expect
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hours may pass in the realm of sleep. But only about thirty minutes
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will pass here.
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Inky and Alex sit inside the circle, near the perimeter, facing Bread
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in the center. Fuko the owl sits at Inky's side.
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It is dim. You are illuminated by mundane, non-magical candles set
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around the edges of the circle. Outside, a steady rain beats on the
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roof and the windows of the building. The smell of fish is faint but
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ever-present. A constant reminder of the small creatures that have
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left their bodies in a fashion far more permanent and irreversible
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than the separation of spirit and body you are about to experience.
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You hope.
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WHAT DO YOU DO
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- How do you induce a deep and powerful slumber in Bread?
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- What shape or form will you take when you arrive in the Dreaming?
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- What are you secretly worried or hopeful about being exposed in the
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dreamland, the realm of metaphor?
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