Arcadian Rhythms

by D3stiny-Sm4sher

"Everything can be hacked. And everyone." - "You should be smiling, too. Aren't you excited? Aren't you happy? You're going to be free." - Multi-fandom modern AU supernatural crime drama story. Inspired by 'The Wolf Among Us,' 'Stranger Things,' 'Mr. Robot.' - Horizon: Zero Dawn, Undertale, Overwatch, Life is Strange, Night in the Woods, Oxenfree, VA-11 HALL-A, Pyre, and more.

1. Episode 1

Arcadian Rhythms
(by Desma 'Destiny-Smasher' Fettig)

Episode 1

\/\/+()+X+()+/\/\

Author's Note: Thanks for giving this story a try! Please keep in mind, this fic is designed to be read in PDF format, or at least on AO3. Since FF doesn't allow links, I can't properly show you this, BUT you can visit arcadian-rhythms at Tumblr and find a download on the 'Links' section, including a link to the interactive side-story 'Red Wheelbarrow.'

Season 1 of Arcadian Rhythms will avoid specifically giving away any major story beats from any of the source materials, but Season 2 and onward will deliberately be referencing end-game plot details of many of the games being represented.

This story, however, can be approached much like the Netflix Marvel shows – you can not be familiar with any of the characters' original source materials and still follow along, as this is entirely adaptation into a new story (an 'alternate universe'). On the other hand, familiarity with certain characters or plot devices could flavor your experience differently. That being said, you could potentially enter this story as if it were an original work and still be given what plot details you need when you need them.

\/\/+()+X+()+/\/\

Lights. Bright lights. Colorful dots. So many colors. Floating in the black. In the dark.
All the lights below.
Reflection of above, the sky – many small lights in the dark.
Disconnected but together. Same place.

SAME SKY.

They all floated in the same sky.

It was cold, though.
Very cold up on the roof.
Pigeons fluttering, flapping, chaotic mess of noise.
Whispers and murmurs from below – from above.
A mess. Everyone, everything, a mess.
But this was the best place to see it all from. Hear it all from.
To see both sides – over, and under, above and below, the lights in the dark.

'Arcadia.'
That was what this place was called.
It was the place Frisk knew. The only place.
It was home, but did not feel like home.
And yet, even when given the chance to leave, they had chosen not to.
They'd chosen to stay.
Every day, being called to leave.
Every day, choosing to stay.

Everyone was staying, even the ones being called to leave.
They could not choose.

But Frisk could.

It was very tiring.
Frisk was very tired.

A jingle played from their pocket. They picked up their phone. It trembled in their palm.
A stiff wind whispered to them. So many voices.
They had to ignore the voices again.

They checked their phone, their fingers slow and numb from the winter's night air.

It was a message from their best friend.

( Howdy! )-
( :) )- A smiley face.

They replied.

-( :( ) A sad face.

They didn't feel very happy.
Not after what had just happened. After what had un-happened.

Their phone shook some more, a ringtone playing.
Their best friend was trying to call them.
But they didn't know what to say.
They didn't want to talk to him.

So they listened to the ringtone, remembering things they didn't remember.
Missing someone they didn't remember, remembering someone they missed.
Regretting something they hadn't done.
Remembering something they regretted.
Missing someone they didn't know.
Knowing something they didn't remember.
It all hurt.

Their phone kept ringing. They tried to ignore it.
But pa̷r͢t͢ of ͞th̶e̸m could not.
They answered it.
And he spoke to them.

[ "You think you're really smart, don't you?" ]

They shook their head at his words and frowned.
Even though it was a phone call, they knew he could see them.
He could always see them.

[ "In this town, it's kill or be killed." ]

They shook their head again, even more this time.
They felt a bad th̶i͘n͢ģ in their throat. In their stomach. They swallowed it down.

[ "So you're able to play by your own rules. You spared the life of a single person." ]

Their eyes began to burn. They could still remember what hadn't happened.

[ "Hee hee hee. . .But don't act so cocky." ]

Their fingers clenched into a fist, their hands trembled.
The phone quivered in their grip.

[ "I know what you did. You murdered her." ]

'.̸ ͢. ̢.͘a͢t͢ ͡my mos̷t͢ vuln̵er̷ąble m̶o͢ment́.͟ ̀.͝ ͢.͢'

Tears dripped down their cheeks, freezing against their skin.
Remembering things they couldn't remember hurt so much.

'̵Eh͟e҉he͡h͠eh̷!̵!̕ ͞You ̨re͘al̕l̛y a͢re n͝o di̡ff̶erent͟ th͢aǹ the͏m!̵'͞

She'd leaked all over the floor.
They'd leaked all over their face.
Smiling face.
Crying face.

[ "And then you went back, because you regretted it." ]

They sniffled and rubbed a shaking hand at their nose, at their eyes, trying to keep it from leaking. T͠he͟m̨ from leaking. Trying to stop it all from leaking out. Spilling everywhere.
With all the voices.

[ "Ha. You naive idiot. Do you think you are the only one with that power?" ]

They let the phone hang to their side. But he turned the volume up. He would not be quiet.
They wanted him to be quiet.
But pa̵r͟t of t͠h̨em͝ wanted him to never go away.
P̕a͘rt of t̡hem͘ needed him.
P̨art͡ ǫf͡ th͏e͜m̀ needed -

[ "The power to reshape this place?! Purely by your own determination?!" ]

They covered their eyes with their damp, sticky sleeve, slick with their own tears and snot.
They couldn't not listen to him when he spoke.
But everything hurt when he spoke.

[ "Apparently YOUR desires for this town override MINE." ]

They tried to end the call. Turn off their phone.
But he stayed powered on. He wouldn't let them leave.
Their phone's screen flickered and flashed his face, messy and moving, changing so much, so quickly, mixing with Mother's face. Cut in half.

[ "But you can't change who you are, pal. You're like me. You're still one of us." ]

With a shuddering whimper, they shook their head.
With a stifling cough, th͟ey nodded their head.

[ "So enjoy that power while you can. I'll be watching." ]

He laughed at them. A strange laugh of many voices. It made their skin feel weird.
And their phone suddenly turned off.
Free from his grip, they dropped the phone to the hard floor of the roof.
Everything was shaking, but standing still.
The door behind them opened.

"What are you doing out here, my child?"
Mother's voice.

The child scrambled to pick their phone back up.
The screen was cracked now.
They marveled at their own reflection in the cracked moonlight.
Re͢fle͏cţi͜o̕ǹ – smiling back at themselves through the broken glass.

They hid the phone in their coat as Mother approached.

Those gentle, big hands squeezed over the child's shoulders.

Mother sighed out a cloud of steam into the night air. The back of her wrist was hot against the child's cold cheek.

"You'll fall ill in this cold," she lamented, her eyes glazing over. Through blurred vision, the child could see their own reflection across both eyes. "Oh." She noticed they'd been crying.

The child leaned their face against Mother's hand and wiped their eyes dry. Mother sighed and rotated the child into a hug. The child's numb nose burned against the warm, fuzzy sweater she wore. Even through their runny nose, the scents of butterscotch and cinnamon were calming. Mother had been baking when the argument had happened.

"Ah, you poor thing," she said. "I did not mean to upset you so. I'm just trying to keep you safe."

The child nodded and sighed, whimpered, coughed, hugged.

"Come, my child. Stay with me – inside, where it's warm. You should get your rest."

Their insides in tangles, the child nodded with a sniffle. Rest sounded good. Warm sounded nice.

Mother took the child by the hand – such a soft but sturdy hand – and she guided them back to the stairwell leading to their little home.

The wind's many voices whispering from beyond faded away once the child was inside.

\/\/+()+X+()+/\/\

"You sure, question mark?" she spoke into her voice-to-text.

He replied instantly, as expected.

( We'll be in town next week for that training exercise, anyway. )-
( It'll be no trouble. )-

She sighed with uncertainty. Given everything that had happened since her transfer back to Arcadia, she was still a little wary about seeing old faces again. Everything that had happened on her previous assignment felt like another life.

Fluttering her lips at her phone through a sigh, she ran her hand through her wavy hair, a tangle a copper wiring. She rocked impatiently on her boot-heels as she contemplated. She grumbled under her breath to herself, "Better not have any smart ideas. . ." Clearing her throat, she repled to his text, "All right, comma, just let me know when you're in town, period."

She lingered at what she'd entered for a moment, sipping at her coffee.

She added to the message before sending it.

"Can I bring company, question mark?"

Her thumb hovered over the ( Send ) button for a second before going through with it.
Again, a near instant reply.

( Of course! We want to meet this partner of yours. )-

As she formulated a response, she was interrupted by her phone flashing a prompt.

"Speaking of. . ." she murmured to herself, a warm smirk squirming on her face at the photo that popped up on her screen.

It was her partner.

Break time was over.

She switched on her earpiece – a custom-made bluetooth she'd received from her mother as a gift a while back. A curious thing for a mother to give her child, but...then again, her mother was obviously not in her mind mind anymore. Regardless, it had proved a useful gift, as Aloy used it every day, and it continued to function without issue. She cleared her throat out and put her work face back on.

"I'm here," she confirmed, tucking her phone away.

Her keen eyes, sharp and astute, surveyed the cityscape at rush hour. The masses were on their exodus home, like a herd of beasts migrating a concrete forest.

[ "In position?" ] came her partner's voice, directly into her ear.

"Yea."

[ "See anything?" ]

At this inquiry, Aloy widened her gaze, scanning the urban sprawl more thoroughly than she had been.

"Uhhh, nope," she replied flatly, ruffling her coat's collar against the winter chill. "Why?"

[ "You sure?" ] double-checked the voice in her earpiece. [ "Only I just saw the sneaky buggers roundin' the corner, headed up Main toward 13th." ]

She checked the street signs that were posted up nearby, taking a sip from her paper coffee cup.

{MAIN st}
{13th STREET}

Hm.

Her eagle eyes scanned the crossroads again whilst draining another lukewarm sip of extra-creamy coffee. She spotted an individual that sort of matched who they were tracking, but-...Nah, wasn't them.

"It's a pair of them, isn't it?" she said, ensuring she was on the lookout for the right duo. "Tall one, short one, right? Hoodies?"

[ "Right." ]
Aloy couldn't help but find her partner's accent to be cute. 'Roit.' Ha.
Did that make her an ass for thinking that?
Or maybe an 'arse?'
[ "Clobbered up Los Muertos attire, bandannas n' all." ]

Aloy puffed out a long breath as she gazed across her environs again. No one matching that description. And she'd gotten pretty keen on picking her targets out of a crowd.

"I've got nothing, Lena," she said disparagingly.
They could not mess this one up. Not after everything else that week.

[ "Really? Swear on me mum's-...Whoa, wait. Hold up." ]

"What?" She gulped the last of her drink down.

[ "No, no, what?! How...-?" ]

"What is it?" She tossed the empty cup into the trash bin on the street's corner, deftly dodging a mother and her baby carriage.

[ "How in the bloody hell did they...-?" ]

"Lena," Aloy sighed, watching a small crowd cross the street. "You trace them yet, or what?"

[ "Thought I had! Blighters gave me the slip, they're-...Argh." ] Lena seemed really perturbed about this. Then again, she was good at her job. It was pretty irritating to feel subpar at something you knew you were good at, wasn't it? Quite a familiar feeling...

"Gonna need a direction here," Aloy groaned warily, her legs bursting with energy to spring into action. If they lost these clowns again...-

[ "Trying, trying, they-...Damn, they're a cheeky lot. Have a kid with 'em, too." ]

"Directions, Lena."

[ "R-right! Sorry, A. Should beeee...left. South." ]
Aloy kicked those legs up a gear into a brisk walk.
[ "Headed up 14th now." ]

"Wait. You said they have a kid with them?"
She could feel her heart starting to escalate, each pounding of her foot against the cement sidewalk like a clock hand ticking toward an impending alarm.

[ "Yea! A kid! Take a right." ]

"Like, a hostage, or...-?"

Red hand, blinking at the crossing light, counting down to zero.

She cut her own sentence off, squeezing and shoving her way across the street, nearly bumping into a taxi to eke by. She reached the other side just after the crosswalk timer hit 'zero.'
Class act police-work here, ugh.

[ "Doesn't look like a hostage, no. Keep going up 14th." ]

"Collateral? Maybe some kind of-Uhff!" She got T-boned by some burly businessman who just kept rolling on by. Were she in uniform, no way that crap would've happened. Then again, were she in uniform, her quarry would notice her much more readily.

[ "You're losin' 'em, Nora." ]

"Yep," Aloy grunted, well aware, recovering her faltered step and quickening her pace.

She wasn't going to let them get away this time. Once she had them in her sights...-

[ "Make a right up here. Trinen Ave." ]

"Got it."

Her heart was really getting into gear now. It felt good. Her body was finding its rhythm amidst the concrete jungle. Arcadia had been quite a leap from what she'd gotten used to in her previous post in Meridian. Here she was though, back home in the big city, but she'd taken a demotion, falling down to her old rank. So, 'quite a leap,' but backwards. It should've felt forward after what she'd accomplished in her previous assignment. But...-

Damnit. She couldn't let her mind wander. Not now, not when she was close to making a breakthrough.

She needed this. They both did.

As her partner traced a path over comms, she followed, gaining bit by bit. Chasing down her prey had always been easier back in Meridian – thinner crowds, smaller city – but she was making due here.

She wasn't used to letting her prey escape, but the past week or two had taken her ego down a couple pegs. Wading through the stream of pedestrians wasn't wearing her out, though. Rather, it was pumping her adrenaline up.

[ "Hold up a tick. They've stopped." ]

She slowed her advance, her eyes frantically darting for her target to no avail as she caught her breath.

"Where?" she hissed irritably.

[ "Uhh-...Saw 'em pass down the alleyway to yourrr...right. But...-" ] An impatient grunt. [ "Haven't seen 'em come out the other end yet." ]

"Got it," Aloy replied, sidling up to the residential corner on her right.

[ "Watch yourself, A. Dunno who else might be down there." ]

She drew her handgun from her hip holster quietly and carefully, pinning herself against the cold brick wall leading to the alley.

Calm.

There was always that moment of calm before things happened. And things happened so quickly. But everything they taught you, all the training and what-not, it never prepared you for that calm. You had to steady yourself. Nerves of steel, right? Slow your breathing, still your limbs, loosen your grip, yet be ready to act in a split-second.

Fortunately, she was good at this part. And the moment that came after.

She peeked the edge of her head around the brick wall corner, just for a split-second, then pulled back.

No one there.

That wasn't right. They had to be there, she would've heard something, surely.

"Lena," she barked in a whisper. "Have they left yet?"

[ "Mmm...Nah, haven't seen movement, lost eyes on 'em. Haven't come out." ]

She peeked again.

A figure?

In the split second it took to confirm this, she whirled around the brick corner, aimed her handgun, and took aim for the figure's leg. This all happened in a focused micro-moment she had trained herself to execute, like a machine.

"Hold it!" she barked, "A.P.D.!"

But just as she went to dig up her badge from her coat, her heart skipped a beat.

It wasn't some Los Muertos flunky in front of her, it was...someone else entirely. Some punk with their hair dyed an eye-burning shade of...seafoam green? Teal? Just standing there, hands in the pockets of their over-sized red jacket, just gawking aimlessly. The person was right in the center of the alleyway, down a stretch.

Maybe this was that kid Lena had mentioned? Mm. No, this stranger looked a bit too old to be a 'kid,' but they weren't dressed in Los Muertos gang threads, either. Maybe the other party involved in the deal, taking too long to flee the scene?

Either way, Officer Nora didn't lower her weapon. For all she knew, this stranger could still be an Los Muertos member. Or helping them, at least. Maybe being a distraction while the targets escaped?

Fuck. That meant she'd already lost the bastards.

"Where did they go?" she asked this stranger, inching her way toward them, handgun still pointed steadily at the leg. "Huh? Two punks in hoodies and a kid. Just ran by. I know you saw them."

As she approached, it was...weird, her vision was getting foggy. Blurry? She blinked, but the stranger in front of her didn't get any clearer. Almost like they were a ghost, or...-?

The stranger with the bright ponytail tilted their head slightly, gazing around the alleyway curiously. They appeared as confused as Aloy was.

"Hey!" snapped Officer Nora, fingers cautiously clenched on her gun. She sped up her approach as her head began to throb. "Did you hear me? I'm with the A.P.D., and I asked you a question."

The stranger appeared to be a Latina female, early 20's. Red letter jacket with a white top and torn jeans. The stranger flicked her teal ponytail behind her shoulder, rejoining gazes with the officer before her. The stranger's auburn brows furrowed thoughtfully as she lifted a hand out of her oversized jacket pocket and pointed at the officer approaching her.

Lips moved, but the stranger's voice came exclusively out of the officer's earpiece, garbled and static-ridden. It spoke the officer's name.

[ͩ̿ͤ͟".̆̎ͩ̈́̆̏͐̕.̢͌.ͨͧͦ̅́A̽̃l̂͆̆ͬ͂őͧy̢̍?̈̃̒"̈͗̈́ͭ͛҉]̆̔͜

"What...-?" Aloy's chest tightened, her balance thrown off.

[̷ͬͬ"ͩA̷͂͆ͥ͐ͧ͗̇l͏o̎ͮ̑̈́y! It is you!.̀̇ͧ̔̽ ̄̒ͨͥͦͨ̚҉]

How in the hell did this weird person know her name? But the stranger's body wretched and lurched suddenly, her words slowing to a painful and unnatural crawl.

[͂̍ͮ -̅i̍́̈̿ͯ͛s͐ͧͯ̾͐̉-ͯ̃͊̄͆ ]

How was she speaking through Aloy's ear piece? Some kind of digital distraction?
It wasn't normal speech. More like fragments, like radio stations being scrolled through.

[̽"̿ͨ̓̀-̧͒̈ļ͂e̡ͬ̉ͤ̐ǻ̷̎v̈́̽eͩ̌̃̒ͫ̋͏-̇̃͂̉ͨ̾"̉]̴ͨͪ

Aloy was close enough now to realize that this woman...wasn't actually there. It was like...some kind of illusion. Maybe a hologram? Didn't even make sense - where was the projector? And why leave such an elaborate distraction abandoned in some old alley?

["̈́-̍̾̎̾ͨ̍̑p̄̈̈̓ǫͨ̃̅̃s͆š̍̌ǐ̷̊͌̃ͩb̍ͥ͒l͛͟eͤͩ̅-̵ͦ̈"̢̾]ͤ̈́̒̐͋

Whatever it was, it wasn't physically present, yet it certainly seemed able to tell that Aloy was there, rotating its gaze as Aloy circled it with studious caution. There wasn't a projector. It was just...some hologram? Made from nothing? Was Aloy hallucinating? She extended her hand to try and touch it, and it took a step back to avoid her hand, arms clutched at its waist, as if it were in pain.

[̀ "̧N͝o̶r͜a͘.̷!" ]

Aloy's head was suddenly pierced with a sharp pain, like an arrow cleanly shot through both ears. The spike of pain was so intense and sudden, it caused her to crumple against a dumpster to her side. Her right ear – where her bluetooth piece hung – was burning. She tore off her earpiece in desperation, and the pressure began to release.

[ "Aloy!" ] It was Lena's voice, coming faintly from the comms device in her hand. [ "Can ya hear me?!" ]

"Lena..." Aloy choked out, lifting the device to her mouth. Trying to gaze up, she realized that the mysterious figure was gone, without any trace.

[ "What're ya doing?! They're getting away!" ]

"I-...I, uh...-" Aloy was on her knees, dazed. The pain was gone, at least, so she fumbled her earpiece back on. She coughed spit into the sidewalk, struggling to regain her breath. "...Gugh-..." Her spit, she noticed, had traces of pink in it. Wiping her lip with her wrist, she saw droplets of blood.

[ "You all right, Luv?! You need backup?!" ] The concern, and the place it came from, sparked Aloy's chest with fire. Enough to push her onto her feet, at least.

"Got...-" More sputtering. "Ugh. Lost 'em, Lena."

[ "They attack you? D'you need-?" ]

"No, no, I'm fine," she wheezed. "OK. I'm OK. Listen. Listen."
[ "You don't sound bloody OK to me! Shall I-?" ]
"You have visual on 'em?!" Aloy groaned, stumbling for balance against the brick wall beside her.

A grunt and a puff from the other side of the call. Aloy could hear a pound.

[ "...Aw, rubbish.Lost 'em. We lost 'em! Unbelievable!" ]

"Pff." Aloy still couldn't get over how cute it was to hear Lena so flustered. But reality caught up with her. "Did we seriously fuck this up again?" she groaned quietly, palm over her forehead.

[ "Bloody hell. Amari'll have our arses, for sure." ]

After savoring that sweet moment of how uncharacteristically crude Lena's language had gotten – was Aloy's anger rubbing off on her? – Aloy leaned forward, hands braced on her hips, and exhaled tiredly.

"Yea," she acknowledged dryly. "Yea, she will."

[ "How did they do it?" ] Lena growled. [ "'S like they were-...Argh. There one tick, right vanished the next. Only I thought I-...Grrgh." ]

"You think they...-?" Aloy coughed roughly, clearing her throat as she regained her balance. "Did they hack the street cams, maybe?"

[ "Uhm, w-well, possible, but usually I'll catch that. Either way, musta tricked my-..." ] She sniffed, then sighed. [ "Well, tricked my surveillance, suppose, either way. In real time. Swear I saw 'em go one way, only they…didn't." ]

Aloy rubbed at her temples, the sting of that bizarre shock still echoing through her whole skeleton.

"You think they had help?" she wondered, staring at the space that odd illusion of a person had been standing at. "Maybe the Sheikah? They've been spreading their net wide this past month..."

[ "Nahhh, you still on about that? The Sheikah? Lookin' out for Los Muertos lackeys? Not really their modus operandi, is it?" ]

Aloy sighed and nodded, clearing her throat. Hearing Lena say 'modus operandi' was itself a charming distraction. But, argh. The job.

"No," Aloy acknowledged tartly. "It's not. I just-...I don't get it, I didn't even see a deal go down. And you said they had a kid with them? Like...a kid kid?"

[ "Proper child, yea. Ten? Twelve? Short, little one." ]

So. Definitely not what Aloy had seen.

"Then what the hell were they doing that needed extra protection? What could they have been smuggling that...-?"

Aloy's head jostled with a puzzling question that threaded through the needle of her suspicions

[ "Wouldn't have been so open about it if it they were carrying, would they?" ] Lena mused. [ "'S like they wanted to be seen." ]

"The child," Aloy posed. "They were transporting the child."

[ "...Oh. Oh, no. I mean, I suppose that-...No-no, that's...-" ] Lena sucked in an uncomfortable breath. [ "What for, you thinkin'?" ]

"Nothing good," Aloy decided, wiping her own saliva from her jacket. The blood was gone, to her relief. Still a bit worrying, though. She huffed, letting their conversation fizzle out as she ran circles around what little she knew.

Her comms beeped, and a gravel-edged voice beckoned them. She took the call.

[ "Oxton. Nora. Report." ]

[ "Captain," ] Lena eked, masking her embarrassment.

Still catching her breath, Aloy smacked her palm with frustration against the frost-slick brick wall. Might as well have been metaphor for her whole damned week.

"Sorry, Ma'am," Aloy pushed out the words in a half-cough, steam billowing from her lips into the winter air. "Lost them. Again," she added bitterly, under her breath.

[ "How's that? You lost them?" ] A tense beat. [ "Mm. Oxton?" ]

[ "Y-yes, Cap?" ]

[ "Care to explain?" ]

[ "Thhheyyy gave me the slip somehow, I-I don't...-" ]
[ "A pair of amateur dealers from Los Muertos gave you both 'the slip?'" ]

Yikes. Captain was...pretty pissed.

[ "Apologies, we-" ]
"It's like they-"

[ "Back to the station," ] Amari cut them off. [ "Both of you. Immediately. You'll file your report, and tomorrow we'll discuss whether it was a mistake putting you two together again." ]

Aloy held in a sigh. She knew in her gut that her partner did the same.

[ "Am I clear?" ]

"Yes, Ma'am."
[ "Crystal." ]

[ "I'm especially disappointed in you, Nora. We've already wasted enough resources on this 'hunch' of yours. I'm starting to wonder if your hot-shot antics in Meridian were all just a fluke, after all." ]

"I-...I completely understand, Captain, I don't-...I'll work harder. I don't have any excuses."

[ "Good, because I don't want excuses, Officer. I want answers." ]

"A-And we...will get those. Soon." Convincing. Confident. "I, uh, we might have discovered something interesting about their activity today." No response. "I'll-...I'll detail it in my report."

[ "Mm. As you were." ] - Amari did not sound pleased.

The Captain hung up.

A heavy pause as Aloy meandered her way back to Main Street, her heart-rate still slowing itself back down – from the strange encounter she'd just had, but also from Amari's rigid tone.

[ "Sorry, Luv," ] Lena sighed, that formality melting off of her tone. [ "I really thought we had 'em." ] She fluttered her lips tiredly. [ "Was sure we did, really..." ]

"It's fine, Lena." It was not. "I'll...see you back at the station."

An awkward pause. There was a shared guilt and frustration that seeped through the brief radio silence.

[ "Right, then." ]

The connection terminated.

Their task concluded, Aloy trudged her way down Main Street.

"Can't believe this crap," she grumbled to herself. "There's got to be something to this, something I'm not seeing...Right in front of me, I just know it."

Pulling out her phone, she sent a text, speaking into her device to convert speech to typed words.

( To: P.F. )
"We still on for tonight, question mark? Same place as usual, question mark?"

After rounding a corner, she got her reply.

( From: P.F. )
( As long as drinks are still on you. )-

( To: P.F. )
"Oh, I could definitely use drinks tonight, period. I hope you came up with something, period."

\/\/+()+X+()+/\/\

Her fingers were numbed by the bitter night air. But they would pinch her cigarette in place even while frozen over. And her other hand, gripping at her phone, would tap and swipe 'til her thumb fell off from frostbite. Her addictions – both physical and mental – needed to be replenished, and the sweet relief of that ten minute break always felt like an oasis in the desert of this crazy town's people and their problems.

That familiar voice in her phone spoke. Or didn't speak. Or both.

-you don't have enough for the cell bill-

"You think I don't know that?"

-was that cactus really something you needed?-

"To keep me sane? Yes. Yes, it was."

-sharp things keep you sane, now, do they?-

"Well, it didn't shut you up, so, I guess not."

-ouch. is this really the time of year for such attitude?-

"You're right. Fine. Holiday season truce?"

-truce-

"That was. . .too easy."

-heh. break time's over-
-back to the grind, Jill-

Blowing past the chatter within her own head, Jill typed one last update to social media.

[ How do we do it? Repeat the same tired cycles, over and over? ]
[ Twenty four hours pass, time moves forward, but do WE? ]
[ Another day, another dollar. Another waste of twenty four hours. ]

[ Our circadian rhythms calibrated by the corporate machines. ]
[ Machines making more machines. ]
[ The cycle we willingly insert ourselves into, like cogs interlocking into each other. ]
[ Slotted into place, forced to turn each other round in circles. ]

Little presumptuous? A little emo-hipster-ish?

She didn't care. It was how she felt. That's what that shit was for. Just screaming – or even trying to speak – into the damned void, and being reassured that she was in good company. The void didn't scream, didn't speak didn't stare back, it just...was a void. And they were all spinning aimlessly in it, right?

Sweeping her purple twin-tails back over her shoulders, Jill sucked one last desperate puff from her cigarette, dropped it to the tarmac to join its siblings in their cemetery, and stamped it with her boot's toe.

Like any other day, Jill re-entered the establishment through its brown, rusted metal back door. She hung up her winter jacket – a plum-colored number with a faux-fur edged collar. She entered the cramped bathroom and washed her hands. She re-adjusted her white blouse, her dark purple vest, and her red tie. She fussed with her bangs and ensured her draping hair was in order. She fidgeted with her knee-length skirt. She avoided looking her eyes in the mirror. She knew how exhausted she looked.

Like any other day, as she exited the bathroom and passed by the Chief's office, she was given a wave by her boss, and she waved back with a smile.

Like any other day, as she re-entered the bar floor, Jill repeated her mantra to herself:

"Time to mix drinks and change lives."

The establishment was pretty slow that night, but given the state of things in Arcadia, Jill wasn't too surprised. Tensions were high. People were scared after the bombing earlier in the week. She just hoped that was the last one they'd be seeing for some while – how many in the past month? Three, four? It was a bit worrying.

After having spent most of her evening dealing with rowdy, rude customers, Jill was a little relieved to see a familiar face waiting for her at the bar. A brunette with shoulder length hair, the customer had a slim face with a few freckles. Blue eyes that always seemed to be on edge, ready to dodge out of a conversation at any moment. She had a messenger bag slung across her shoulder that she let sit against the base of her stool as she took a seat.

The woman pushed up her fedora slightly to look Jill in the eyes and smirked.

"Jules," she greeted in a tease.

Pff, the bitch.

"Maxine," Jill teased back. "Been a while. Where's your mistress?"

The woman – a regular customer off and on – rolled her eyes and shook her head a bit, but smiled a little at Jill's taunt.

"My client, you mean?" Max corrected.

"Thhhhat doesn't make it sound any less weird," Jill snickered, narrowing her eyes.

Max tried to let the joke roll off with a smarmy smirk and a soft laugh, though Jill could tell it had ruffled her a bit. Right. Those kinds of jokes weren't good with this customer. Noted.

"She's on her way," Max grumbled, referring to her client.

"The red-head, right?" Jill checked, getting herself sorted on her tablet register. She saw Max nod out of the corner of her eye. "Been out snooping for another scoop today, then, huh?"

"Something like that," Max sighed, her voice getting a bit hoarse before she coughed into her sleeve.

"Sounds like the fuzz has you on their leash these days," Jill said in a bemused mumble as she tidied up some empty, abandoned glasses. Snatching up the handful of bills left behind as tips, she glanced to Max, who was clutching at her head with a tired, defeated look.

"Can't afford to get picky with my clients," Max grumbled into her palm, wiping it down her face. "And, well," she breathed out with a shrug, "I mean, working with the cops sure beats that cliché 'my-spouse-is-cheating-on-me' crap, or delivering damn subpoenas. I am so done with that shit."

"Yea," Jill said with a nod, cleaning up the dirty glasses in the sink. "I can see that. Getting saddled with tedious busywork must be frustrating. I mean, you were the one who cracked that Dark Room case back in the day, right?"

Max nodded, rubbing at her eyes.

"That was some messed up stuff," Jill recalled, trying to remember the details.

"Yea," Max grunted, massaging her forehead. "Long time ago. But it put me on the map, anyway."

"Right," said Jill. "You pour yourself into something that big, make a name for yourself, all just to get sucked back into the mundane stuff...Probably feels like being pulled out of the ocean and being dumped into a pond."

"Mm," Max hummed, her eyelids fluttering in a weird way. She looked pretty out of it, but it didn't look like she'd had anything to drink yet.

"Can I get you some water?" Jill offered. "Or...-?"

"A Piano Woman," Max requested, her eyes buried in her hand.

Jill gave pause at this. It was always precarious, being in this position. She was there to serve drinks, but with that came a certain sense of obligation to protect people from themselves.

"You sure?" Jill checked. A Piano Woman was a hefty drink, after all.

Max, her eyes still closed, nodded whilst rubbing at her temple.

"Don't think I've been more sure of anything today," Max advised. "Make it a strong one."

"Coming right up, then," Jill said, getting her liquors in order.

The P.I. here wants a Piano Woman. Looks like she's got something heavy on her mind. Maybe a good drink can help lighten that burden.

Whilst thrashing her drink shaker to mix Max's order, Jill noticed her co-worker, Gillian, serving up a drink to quite the looker on the opposite end of the bar. The customer had a rather punky style to her, and was fixated on her laptop, chugging down some bourbon while she worked. The woman seemed to effortlessly be able to navigate her device with one hand while drinking with the other. Jill couldn't help but be distracted by the woman – half of her head was shaved with an intricate pattern buzzed into it, while the other half was a long, flowing mane of black with purple highlights. The woman paid her no mind, too involved in her computer, it seemed.

Jill had to un-distract herself from the aura that customer gave so she could work on mixing Max's Piano Woman. The P.I.'s order was completed.

"Here you are," said Jill, delicately setting the classy beverage on a fresh coaster.

Max took a hefty gulp from it and coughed a little from the sting. Well, she had asked for a strong one...

"Thanks," Max croaked while catching her breath. She sighed out a blend of relaxation and exhaustion.

"Is your client running late?" Jill theorized, searching for more conversation.

Swallowing a second swig, Max shook her head.

"Got here a bit early," Max wheezed.

The P.I. was suddenly overcome by another coughing fit, some sniffling, and...-

Oh, yikes. Max's nose had started to bleed.

"Nayrudamnit," Max growled under her breath, noting the red drops on her fingers. She shoved up from her stool, wrist pressed to her upper lip.

"That dry winter air," Jill mused, "Messing with your allergies again, huh? It sucks."

"Yea," Max groaned, swiftly making her way for the bathroom.

Poor woman, she seemed to always have some problem or another when she came to the bar. She'd even passed out a couple times – Boss had needed to keep an eye on her one evening. Not Jill's business to ask, but maybe she was sick, or something?

-aren't we all a little sick?-

The flat-screen hanging on the wall flickered out its internal running commentary that Jill had gotten used to, that eery woman's face having taken over a commercial.

Jill frowned, mumbling, "I thought we'd agreed to a Holiday truce."

"What was that?" Gillian asked from her right.

A blink later and the flat-screen was playing an advert for Rikimaru Ramen – a familiar staple of Jill's diet. She had to admit, though, it didn't hold a candle to the Mintendo Noodle House. Gah, if only she could afford the place. It had been months since she'd had real ramen.

Damn. Now Jill was hungry just thinking about it. Useless, given her financial situation.

"Huh?" Gillian prodded when she didn't reply.

"Just...grumbling to myself," Jill dismissed Gillian's inquiry.

Gillian approached her, shrugging the odd moment off. He scratched at his facial hair warily. Gill was a shaggy gent with dark, messy hair and a seemingly permanent five o'clock shadow. He had calm eyes and a relaxing voice – yet his demeanor was amusingly twitchy, and he'd get startled out of his cool cucumber state at the drop of a coin. Gillian was a reliable co-worker, though. Honestly, the best Jill had ever had thus far. But the two had a relationship built on mutual taunting to keep things interesting.

"So," Gill said, clearing his throat. "That, uh-...That regular of yours. She's not...meeting with that cop again, is she?"

Jill's eyes creaked from her mixer rinsing to Gillian as a wry smile slid onto her face.

"Maybe," she said slyly, narrowing her eyes. "But I wouldn't worry about it."

"It's just that...-" Gillian frowned. "That cop that comes here, she just makes me ner-"
"Makes you nervous, I know. You're gonna go take your break the second she comes in, aren't you?"

Gillian nodded, tight-lipped.

Jill had come to decide over time that her co-worker was definitely involved in something on the side that was definitely illegal, and that their Boss knew something about it. But Jill never seemed able to get any dirt on the matter. Boss seemed fine with it, so...-

'He's loyal,' Boss had stated. 'He does his job well. Whatever he's up to after-hours is his business. Mine? It's running this bar.'

If it was good enough for the Boss, it was good enough for Jill. Most of the time.

-besides, getting your dirty laundry hung out to dry is never fun-

"Fair enough."

"Thanks," Gillian said, replying to Jill's inadvertent mumbling. "You're the best, Jules."

Jill's hands tightened into fists within the dishwater she was using.

"No problem, John," she retaliated.

After flinching, Gillian muttered humbly, "I deserved that."

It was never as fun when he accepted his 'John-Face' so readily.

And so did Gillian go back to his customer – that mysterious woman with the laptop. As Jill finished rearranging some bottles and glasses for efficiency's sake, she noticed that Gillian and his customer got a little irate with one another, if only in a hushed way. She couldn't make out the conversation, but Gillian's body language seemed fretful, whereas the slick, confident-looking customer was unfazed. It was rare to see Gill get flustered by a customer. He was normally efficient at not taking things personally – something Jill was still working on.

"Hey, lady," called out the flashy customer in question. Jill felt a bit paralyzed just by the slightest attention from this woman. She had a bit of an accent – from south of the border, maybe? "Your friend here's a bit twitchy, unh?"

"He's like that," Jill confirmed, giving the glaring Gillian a beaming smile. "Just ignore him."

"I'm right here," Gillian whined.

The woman, still plucking at her keyboard, mused at Gill with a teasing look, "Ignore him..." She nodded slowly, drumming her purple fingernails on her bourbon glass. She then decided with a smirk at Gill, "I think I'll do that."

Gillian just sighed at this and resumed tidying up his side of the bar.

The front door swung open, and in entered a flame-haired woman with sharp eyes – Officer Nora, who Jill's regular Max had been meeting up with periodically. Nora had intimidating eyes and pointed expressions. Beneath that veneer was a warm-hearted woman who took her job seriously. Maybe it was her captivating yet stoic, hazel eyes set over a thick mess of freckles, her strangely elegant mess of voluminous copper hair, or just the way she carried herself, but Officer Nora often seemed to garner affections she seemed oblivious to – or just politely disinterested in. Either way, Jill always felt just a twinge of light-headedness at the sight of the woman, but with familiarity came reassurance.

"Welcome to Valhalla," Jill greeted, leaning forward so Gillian could not-so-stealthily sneak by behind her, taking his leave. "I was starting to worry we'd never see you again," she jested, watching the officer approach the counter, flicking winter-swept hair over her shoulders.

"The rate I'm going," Nora grumbled, "you just might never seen me again..."

"Oh," Jill eked, off put by the pessimism. "I, um, I'm sorry to hear that."

Officer Nora's eyes pinched shut for a second, her nostrils flaring out as she re-centered herself.

"Sorry," she sighed. "Not been the best week. Worried I might need to leave town soon..."

"Sounds complicated," Jill sympathized.

Nora's brows lifted, her lips tightened, and she nodded bitterly. She flicked her wrist at the half-consumed Piano Woman on the counter.

"Did my friend already show up?" she wondered. "Probably took off for the restroom, didn't she?"

"Nice observation, detective," said Jill with a nod.

"More like an educated guess," Nora humbly mumbled, sitting down in the seat next to where the P.I. had taken up roost. "If I was any good at detective work, I'd be one by...-" She caught herself, trailing off. Her nose wrinkled with disdain, her lip quivered, and she sighed. "Anyway," she said with a slight shake of the head. "Her drinks are on me tonight. Can I get...a Cobalt Velvet?"

A Cobalt Velvet for the Officer. Maybe to soften the blow that today has struck her with?

"Coming right up," Jill said with her usual professionalism, getting straight to work. "By the way, with how often you've been coming in, I've been meaning to ask – what's your name? Your first name, I mean. Or-...Well, unless you prefer...-"

"Aloy."

"What...?" The bartender's liquid pouring was put on hold.

"My, um-..." The officer cleared her throat. "That's my name. Aloy."

"Ay...Loy?" The bartender slowly continued her mixology. What kind of name was that?

Aloy nodded solemnly, scratching at her neck with a tired dip of her head.

The purple-haired tender nodded and shrugged up one shoulder, saving face. "I, uh, haven't heard that one before."

"I bet," Aloy mumbled bitterly. "My mother's...a little bit different." Aloy sighed, leaving the matter to rest on that. "You can call me whatever you like, honestly. When I'm here, I'm off the clock, so...-"

The bartender smiled, and Aloy smiled back.

"Aloy it is, then, Miss."

"And you?"

"Uh, Jill." She shrugged more fully and bobbed her head slightly. Not knowing what else to add, she hummed out an "Mm."

"Right." An awkward beat. Aloy lightly knocked her knuckle against the counter. "Do you-...I mean, do you get friendly with all of your regulars?"

"Not by choice," Jill said grimly. "But don't worry, I wouldn't ask unless I wanted to."

"Of course." Aloy nodded thoughtfully. "Well, I'm-...Yea, thanks, I appreciate it, actually."

"No problem."

Aloy mused, "Sometimes it's good to just...be treated like everyone else, I guess. You know?"

"Yea. I bet. Especially these days."

"These days?"

"O-Oh, just...-" Jill swallowed nervously, shrugging. "With everything going on in Arcadia..."

"Ah." Aloy tapped her fingers against the counter. "Right."
The bombings, she was probably referring to. They had been causing folks to lose faith in the APD as of late...

Aloy watched as Jill shifted away from their conversation and went to her mixing.

Jill seemed a bit flustered for some reason, so Aloy decided to let her go to her task. Left to wait for her drink, Aloy took out her phone. She had a text.

( From: Lena )
( sorry for the cock up today luv :'( )-
( was scared you got hurt )-

Aloy went to reply, using her voice to text.

"It's fine, period. We tried, comma, we failed, comma...-" A sigh. "-...it happens, period."

The bartender took note of Aloy's message.

As she shook the mixer about, Jill inquired, "Bad day?"

Aloy nodded warily, rubbing at her eyes. She could feel the bags hanging beneath them.

[ From: Lena]
[ you're cross with me eh? ]-
[ you are. I could tell back at the station. ]-
[ i'm sorry! D'x ]-

Aloy's stomach wriggled uncomfortably. Lena was still a kid at heart in a lot of ways. Which...was adorable as hell, honestly. Aloy had done so much growing up so early, it was kind of nice to have that experience, if only vicariously.

[ From: Lena ]-
[ how can I make it up luv? ]-
[ ^3^ ]- Hoo, a kiss emoji, now?

Aloy's weary expression finally melted into a dumb smile. She tapped that voice button and sent another text.

"It's really okay, period. We'll be fine, comma, I'm just a bit scared about work, period. Try not to worry so much, comma, I'll be home in a little while, period."

She made sure to add a reciprocal kissy-face emoji, though she found herself hesitating a little. Wasn't sure why, though, so she rode past the feeling and sent it, anyway.

"Scared about work?" the purple-haired bartender prodded.

Aloy became self-conscious and tucked her phone away. The person she'd been waiting for exited the bathroom.

"Ah, yea, just...politics," Aloy replied to the tender with a dismissive flick of her wrist.

"I can imagine," said Jill, serving up the neon blue drink Aloy had ordered.

Aloy nodded sullenly, diverting her gaze to Max Caulfield. Hah. The woman was wearing a fedora and everything that evening, yeesh.

"Hey," said Aloy.

"Ma'am," Max greeted with a nod and a tip of her hat, taking her seat.

They avoided gazes for a moment, each sinking into their beverages.

Jill cleared her throat and asked, "Do you two...need anything else? Or should I leave you to it?"

Aloy glanced to Max, who shrugged with a slight shake of the head.

"I think we're good for now," said Aloy, raising her glass in gratitude. "Thanks."

The twin-tailed bartender nodded deeply – almost a bow – and whisked herself to the other far side of the counter to assist someone else.

That was something Aloy really liked about this dive bar: the staff had a keen sense of service yet also discretion. Very personal and comfortable.

"So," said Max. She was sliding her fingertip counter-clockwise around the edge of her glass. "We getting straight to business today, or...is this also a social call, orrr...-?"

Aloy was a little distraught by this. While their meets were founded in work, things were usually more friendly between them. Something seemed to be on Max's mind.

"Oh, uh-...I mean, whatever you're up for," Aloy assured. "I didn't...interrupt anything, did I?"

"No. Oh, no, no," Max shaved the edge off of her tone. "S-Sorry, I'm just not feeling so well today. I'm...honestly just ready to go home to my wife, and...just...-" She sighed through her nose, shaking her head disparagingly before taking a swig of her beverage.

"Ah," said Aloy with empathy. "You could've...called things off, if...-"
"It's fine, I-...I need the work," Max said bluntly. "Um, anyway...-"

Max dug into her jacket and pulled out a padded envelope. She set it on the countertop and slid it over.

Aloy gave herself a moment to take her environs in – just the two of them, the bartender, and the lone customer down the way.

Aloy withdrew her own envelope in kind and the pair exchanged parcels.

Max counted bills of cash discreetly as Aloy examined the contents of her received goods. As usual, a USB drive and some printed out photos, folded in half. Aloy was eager to discover their contents, and began to examine them, setting each one face down on the countertop.

"Oh," said Max, pausing. "There's-...This is more than we agreed on, I...-"

"Think of it as a holiday gift," Aloy said with a smirk.

"Um, thanks," Max said, her face getting a little pink. "I don't...really deserve it, but...-"

"Life's not fair," said Aloy, upgrading her smirk to a warm smile. "But that doesn't always have to be a bad thing, right?"

"Mm." Max nodded bashfully. She tucked her payment into her coat before timidly sipping at her drink.

Aloy gave the woman a pat on the back, then went back to her photo studying. Aloy took in what she could from the images.

The two hooded figures, faces covered in bandannas with bones patterned on them. The pair was navigating the Historic District. Stopping at some kind of restaurant. OK. Visiting an apartment complex. Greeting someone at the door – some older woman. Damn, someone Aloy recognized but couldn't quite place. A child, exiting the house – oh, the one Lena must've seen? – the figures left with the child. Some shots of them navigating the District, then getting on the subway. Based on the time stamps, it checked out with the time Lena had detected them arriving across town. The taller one's face seemed clear enough – his eyes, anyway – but no matter the angle or shot, the shorter one was always too blurry to make out, and with bandannas over their mouths and puffy hoodie jackets on? Good luck ID-ng them.

"Dig anything up on these two?" Aloy asked, downing a gulp of her Cobalt.

Max nodded, but shrugged up one shoulder.

"They're definitely Los Muertos members," she cited quietly, staring at what little was left of her drink. "At least one of them stops by the same restaurant every day for lunch. Oh, uh, here."

Max produced a matchbook from her coat and handed it to Aloy. It had a logo printed on it featuring the profile of...some person with a bowtie, eyeglasses, and a hairdo that looked more like flames than hair.

{ Grillby's }
{ Established 200X }

An address was chicken-scratched in red ink on the inside – Max's handwriting.

Max cited, "I know for a fact the place is a hub for Los Muertos and their clientele."

"Worth looking into, then," Aloy decided.

"Carefully," Max cautioned.

After placing the matchbook with the pile of photos, Aloy pointed out the two figures in question again.

"So, what do we know about these guys?"

"I'm pretty sure they're brothers," Max said. "But I can't seem to get real names on 'em, much less what their status in the group is, where they come from...-" She trailed off with a shake of her head.

"Real names?" Aloy wondered.

"They always go by nicknames. Or...code names? I'm not sure."

"What are these code names?" Aloy pressed, trying to keep her voice down despite her curiosity.

Max grabbed one of the photos, and pointed at each figure.

"The fat guy goes by 'Sans.' The football-player-looking dude is 'Papyrus.'"

"Hm." Aloy tapped her chin. Weren't those computer font names? So, maybe they really were connected to the hacks going on...Which meant that maybe they really were responsible for that...thing Aloy had seen? "And the kid?" Aloy tapped her finger at the brown-haired child in the puffy, striped winter coat. They were wearing a black baseball cap with text printed on it.

{ MERCY}

"That child? Might as well be a ghost," Max said contemplatively. "I mean, maybe your database has records, but...I couldn't find shit on that kid. Name, age, gender, I don't...-" She shrugged, wide-eyed. "I mean, nothing. Nothing real, anyway. Contradictions."

Aloy burned her eyes into a photograph of the child. Expressionless. A slight shiver went up her spine as she tried to imagine what the Los Muertos wanted with some kid – or maybe it was the child's expression that made her uneasy.

"Nothing real?" Aloy poked.

"Kid seems to be adopted, but...-" Max scratched at her neck with a sigh. "There's just something off about it. I couldn't find out much. It's like there's multiple records, multiple names, all for this one kid. So...-" Max shook her head, tight-lipped. "Something's off."

"Sounds like it," agreed Aloy. "And the woman?" Aloy asked, shuffling through some photos until she found one. "I know her from somewhere."

Max nodded, scratching her nose and glancing sideways down the bar.

"That...-" Max began, pausing and laughing softly. "-is because she's the mayor's ex-wife."

Aloy did a bit of a double-take at that.

"Ex-wife?" Aloy was surprised.

"Yea," said Max, brows furrowing. "Happened, like...two years ago. Was all over the press. It was not a quiet breakup."

Aloy rubbed at her chin and downed a gulp of Cobalt.

"Oh, I wasn't...here, that's when I started working in Meridian."

"Gotcha," Max replied with a thoughtful nod. "Well, she faded out of the limelight pretty fast. Teaches over at at Ebott Elementary now. I could look into what she's been up to, if you want." At this offer, Aloy nodded eagerly. "But, anyway," Max went on, "If you look...-" Max sifted through the photos again, pulling one out. "-...here. See this one?"

It was from the sequence where the two figures were picking up the kid – the shorter, fat one was hugging the woman. Fairly intimately. And wait...-

"I'm pretty sure they kissed," Max cited. "So there's something going on there. No idea how the kid is related to your case, but...-" She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "Again, there's something about the whole thing that...has me uneasy." She sniffed, wiping her sleeve against her nose. "What do you make of it?"

"Well. When my partner and I were tailing them today," Aloy recanted, "we couldn't figure out why they had this child with them, but...I'm starting to think the child was what they were transporting."

"Huh. Well, where did they drop them off?" Max wondered.

Aloy shook her head.

"That's the thing: I don't know how, but we lost them again. It's-...Rrgh."Aloy's fist clenched around her glass."It's like they're somehow...just...-"

"Always one step ahead?" Max related grimly. "Yea, I had that problem, too..." Her eyes glazed over for a moment as she slid her fingertip counter-clockwise on her glass's rim again. She snapped out of her stupor with a cough and rubbed at her irritated nostrils again. "Anyway...-" She trailed off with a sigh.

"I think this hobo-look is just a front," Aloy theorized. "Their out-in-plain-view disguise. These two know what they're doing."

"What makes you say that?" asked Max, flagging down the bartender, pointing to her empty glass, and nodding.

Finishing off her own first drink, Aloy pointed out, "Well, on top of them knowing how to lose a tail, when I was onto them, they...-"

Jill was mixing together another Piano Woman for Max, giving Aloy a moment to recollect her memories from that afternoon.

Fiery eyes that were ice-cold at the same time.
Greenish-blue hair, red letter jacket, brown hands.
Those eyes were so empty, so haunting, yet so angry and confused.
But the entire thing, what appeared to be a person, wasn't even there.
Just some flickering illusion, like a glitch in reality.

And the pain Aloy had felt. So sharp, and sudden, disappearing just as could they have caused that? Maybe just a panic attack of some sort? PTSD? That wasn't how that worked, though, was it? Aloy had made note of that on her report, and she worried about the consequences, but she wasn't going to fool around with that kind of thing. If they deemed her unfit, well, they deemed her unfit, and she'd deal with it – just like she'd dealt with the demotion she'd taken when she'd returned to Arcadia.

"What happened?" Max asked, leaning in, her new beverage now poured. The bartender had gone back to giving them their space, chatting it up with the other customer. "When you were following them, I mean."

Aloy swallowed the lump in her throat. She wasn't sure if she could be open about this – what if she was just losing it?

"W-well, it...looked like they set up some kind of...holographic...distraction? Decoy?I'm not...-" She trailed off warily. "To be honest, I'm not sure what they did, but it was...-"

"Strange," said Max, finishing the thought. "Yea, I-...Based on what I've found out, it seems like odd things happen in their wake. Cameras go down at convenient times, traffic lights rotate at just the right moment..."

Aloy leaned over and whispered, "Do you think Los Muertos is connected to the recent hacks? To the terrorist attacks going on around here?"

Max shrugged, nodding half-heartedly.

"Nothing proven," Max conceded, "but...if I was betting on things? Yea. They're definitely involved, somehow."

"Do you think it's the Sheikah they're working with?" Aloy wondered, figuring she'd toss her theory out on a fresh set of ears.

"The Sheikah?" Max balked. "Aren't they ancient history?"

"They've...had a resurgence recently," Aloy pointed out. "Those hacks – like the one that crippled Nook Realty last month?" Max acknowledged Aloy's citation. "I have it on good authority that the Sheikah had a hand in that."

"Really?" said Max, leaning back with some surprise, to which Aloy nodded.

"Really."

"Huh," was what Max had to say about that. "I mean, I assumed it was the Phantom Thieves finally getting their hands dirty in the west – Nook's CEO is definitely involved in some shady shit, and his recent dealings would match the Phantoms' M.O. Then again, a 'calling card' was never publicized, so-...Hmph." Max sunk her mouth into her palm, elbow on the table as she pondered. "But...I mean, I could see the Sheikah being capable, if they've been pooling their resources back together. What's the angle, though?"

Aloy bit her lip and shrugged uncertainly.

Aloy's head fizzed with consideration. The Phantom Thieves, huh? She hadn't even considered that group, she didn't think they'd go international. Damnit. She'd have to do some research on them later. They had been getting a bit of a reputation. Apparently they'd become quite the big deal over in the land of the Rising Sun, potentially even murdered a CEO of some big company? But that didn't change Aloy's suspicions about the Sheikah.

"Well," Aloy puffed out tiredly with a shrug. "I'm feeling a little more lost than when we started." She glanced one more time at that woman in the photos. "But at least I've got a lead or two to look into. Thanks. A lot."

"Just business," said Max, shrugging and shrinking into her coat's collar at Aloy's gratitude.

"You know what?" said Aloy, raising her hand to get Jill's attention. "You're right – enough business. I want to know how things are going for you and your wife. What was her name, again?"

Aloy delighted at the way Max's face glowed a little, as if by reflex.

Max's mouth curved into a bashful, sentimental smile as she replied.

"Chloe."

\/\/+()+X+()+/\/\

"Chloe!" growled a voice from out of sight, echoing across the concrete garage.

"Whaaaat?" Chloe roared back, scratching an itch on her head with her wrench.

"Did you finish that bike, or not?!"

"I'm-..." Chloe spit out some gunk that had gotten into her mouth. With an impatient huff, she finished tightening the fuckamajig that had been giving her hell, then pulled herself up on two feet. "Just about!" she called back, shouting. "Just gotta-!" Aaaaand her boss was right there when she had turned around, so she corrected her volume. "Uh, just gotta clean 'er up, Bridgette, damn."

"It's Brih-gih-tah," corrected her boss on the pronunciation.

"Oh. Fuck. S-Sorry, Ma'am."

The boss' expression softened at Chloe's shriveled stance.

"It's fine," she said, letting Chloe off the hook. She grumbled under her breath with a shrug, "Everyone gets it wrong..." Chloe felt a sense of frustration beyond just the 'name' bit. But Brigitte concluded, "You can just go back to calling me Ms. Lindholm if that's easier."

"Nah, I mean, it's-...Brih-gee-tah?" Chloe checked.

"Brih-gih-tah."

"Brih-gih-tah. Got it. Remembered." Chloe jabbed her greasy finger into her sweaty forehead. "Saved right up here. Uhm, a-anyway." She diverted the convo to the motorcycle she'd been finishing up. "About this bike – what's the big rush?"

"That was supposed to be completed two hours ago," Brigitte sighed, crossing her bulky arms with a disappointed look. "The customer's here to pick it up."

Chloe blinked at her boss awkwardly and shrugged, dunking her wrench with a -clang- into her tool box.

"Uh, sorry, I guess I...-"

Fuckin' A. Chloe was just stumbling sideways through everything today, huh?

Chloe Price had been bulking up a bit in recent years, having done a stint of work with union labor after dropping out of college. She had blue eyes and naturally blond hair, but at present had chopped half of her hair off and dyed the shoulder-side side a rich shade of blue. Multiple piercings in each ear, and a grunge-lite sense of style – tempered in recent years, perhaps, by her wife's milder tastes. Oh, and don't forget her proudest feature: an arm-length tattoo depicting a complex array of rose vines intertwining a red ribbon, accented by a golden skull and blue butterflies. As a result, Chloe commonly wore short-sleeve (or no-sleeved) attire to proudly show off this right arm. Which, come to think, was indeed starting to bulk up from her dayjobs as of late.

But Chloe's muscles didn't hold a candle to her boss'. Brigitte Lindholm was a thick, sturdy woman with long red hair, usually tied in a tail with two tendrils down her shoulders. A round jawline with a strong chin, sharp eyes and big lips. Her left bicep had a gear symbol tattooed in black – the logo of her family's auto shop chain. She was a hefty lady who struck a balance between scary but lovely that Chloe couldn't make sense of.

"I know you're new here," Brigitte said, "so let me be plain: Ironclad Auto is known for its punctualityand quality. You're going to have to start picking up the paces if this is going to work out. My father spent decades building a reputation for this place – the original Ironclad Auto Workshop? – and I won't let that be ruined. I see a spark in you, Chloe, but you've got to meet me halfwaybefore we can forge that spark into a flame."

"R-right, yea, totally," said Chloe, her stomach gurgling with fear. She couldn't afford to lose this job, not after how hard it had been to land a job in the first place. And especially not with how inconsistent Max's income was. "Sorry, Briggs, lost my focus today."

Brigitte's sharp stare held for a few seconds before dissolving. Damn, was Chloe lucky that this beast of a woman had a softer inside than outside.

"All right," said Brigitte with some empathy. "I know I have been pushing you to the grindstone. But...it's because I see so much potential in you."

Chloe seemed to get that a lot. She wasn't so sure if that was such a good thing, though.

"Thanks," said Chloe, untying the bandanna around her neck and wiping grease, oil, and sweat from her forehead. "I'll clear my head over the weekend, come back Monday with a fire under my ass."

Brigitte smiled at that, laughing a little through her nose.

"Good. This time of year, we get more accidents, which means more workload. I'm going to need you to really get in gear. OK Motors is already swiping business from us, so-" She flashed a clenched fist – a meaty, bulky fist, damn, gurl, get it. "-we need to prove ourselves."

Chloe nodded as formally as she could muster, offering a salute she somewhat regretted.

"Yessir, Ma'am." Damnit. "You can-...You can count on me."

"No shortcuts, just hard work," Brigitte said with a warm wrinkle in her smile, slapping Chloe on the back with encouragement.

Brigitte seemed satisfied with their chat after a moment of thought.

"I'll let your customer in," she said, heading back to the front. "Don't forget to remind them about our offers this month."

"Aye-aye," said Chloe, despite not even knowing herself what said offers were. It didn't matter. Not with this customer.

Washing up her face a bit and getting her cleaning supplies in order, Chloe felt the first spike of relief since her shift had started when her friends nervously sauntered in – a pudgy, rowdy rocker with a style Chloe approved, alongside their leather-clad, slick-haired best bud.

"Borowski, eyyyy," Chloe greeted, setting down her bucket of materials and ripping off her gloves to greet them.

Mae Borowski was a short, stout punk with a sweet little faux-hawk – a few red tufts in the front, shaved close at the sides. A round face with dulled expressions but wide eyes that stabbed at you when they got excited. Pudgy little beast of a person, but with that came a wealth of energy and enthusiasm.

"'Sup, Price?" Mae replied.

They exchanged a multi-stepped handshake without missing a beat. Chloe managed to get something right, at least.

"Stayin' busy, Mae, stayin' busy. Hey, Gregg," she greeted the one in leather (so much leather). "My duder!"

Gregg was a lean, not-at-all-mean young man. Shaggy hair, dyed a strawberry blonde, sat over a clean-cut, vibrant face with a tall, sharp nose and thin lips. His pointy little chin usually had a healthy patch of hair on it. Much as Chloe disagreed with such things, apparently the dude's boyfriend loved it, so hey, different strokes. Expressive hazel eyes and a slender build, the man loved him some tight-ass jeans for his tight-ass.

Chloe went to shake Gregg's hand, but he shooed her hands to the side and gave her a hug.

"My baby," he said, sobbing facetiously.

"Oh, uh...Yea, hey," Chloe replied warily, accepting his emotional gesture with some confusion.

"No – my baby," Gregg repeated, pointing at the motorcycle Chloe had been working on with a point of his finger. As their hug broke, he asked, "Does she live? Does she purr?"

"Oh, she roars," Chloe assured. "Just gotta give her a polish, then you can take a test run."

"You rule, OK?" Gregg said, slapping her bare, sturdy shoulders with his palms.

"You rule OK," Chloe retorted with a chuckle, knuckling him in the chest. Oh, little tight-ass there, too, apparently. Had he been workin' out?

Mae, hands on their hips, soaked in the atmosphere of the garage.

"So," Mae gestured at the garage, a bit intimidated. "How goes the...this? Shiz? All this shiz?"

"Man, Mae," Chloe breathed out. "I don't even fuckin' know," she said quietly, so the other mechanics wouldn't hear. "I think I'm in over my head here. But I'll manage." She sucked in a deep breath through her nose. Her heart sank a little as anxieties bubbled to the surface of her mind, exacerbated by the whirs and clicks of power-tools in the background. "I have to."

"I know that feel," said Gregg. "But this place has got to pay better than the Snack Falcon, at least."

"That it does," Chloe acknowledged. "Not gonna lie, glad I managed to get outta there."

"Not everyone can be a Snack Champ," said Mae, giving Gregg a light jab on the arm.

"Yea," Gregg said with a shrug, though Chloe could tell the poor guy was probably just as desperate to leave as she had been.

"Anyway," said Chloe, eager to forget all that stressful shit. "Gimme a bit to clean this sucker up for ya, we'll get ya'll...-" She wriggled her arms out, to which Gregg wriggled back. "-...sorted out."

"Then," Mae interjected, "it's time forrrr...-" They fluttered their hands with anticipation.

"Forrr...-" Gregg chimed in unison.

Chloe wasn't sure what they were getting at.

"Tiiiimmme...forrrr...-" Mae repeated, nodding their head in a suggestive manner.

Oh.

"Yes," Chloe blurted, eyes popping open wide, then narrowing as she bobbed her head irritably toward her co-workers. "That...party, yea, I...didn't forget the supplies."

Mae and Gregg both grinned like kids at a candy store. Chloe should've known. Then again, it wasn't like she wasn't going to join them...Because she was definitely going to join them.

"But," said Chloe, faking to swing a baseball bat. "Did ya'll bring what I asked for?"

"Smash-smash," Gregg said with a wink, swinging an invisible baseball bat in his arms.

Mae stuck out their fist, inviting a bump.

"Crimes?" said Mae.

Chloe bumped knuckles with them.

"Crimes," Chloe replied.

\/\/+()+X+()+/\/\

"Got everything?" Gregg checked, peeking his head over as Mae wobbled off of the motorcycle. They were at Mae's apartment building.

Mae stopped themself and checked their coat pockets. Mae was baked like a fucking potato. Gregg was prolly close to sober by now. Probably. Well, maybe not.

"Helmet," Gregg reminded.

Psshhhh, right. Mae was still wearing Gregg's extra helmet. Had a habit of forgetting about it – prolly 'cuz it wasn't theirs, right?

After shoving it off of their greasy head, Mae handed it back to their best mate and went about a pocket expedition.

Phone? Yea, probably. Wallet? Maybe. Sure. Keys? Mmmm nah, didn't bring any, didn't need 'em, roommate was home all night.

Aaaaaand...-

Chunky little bag of happy-time-candy for the roommate? Check. Chloe's whole 'grown-up-and-get-a-job' biz didn't mean she couldn't still help a buddy out on the side and make a little extra bank. Besides, it was for a good cause. Mae's roommate wasn't doing so hot, could use a little pick-me-up. See? Thoughtful. Stuff. Mae was doing it. Doing the thoughtful things. For the other persons. Mae had a job now (um Chloe's old job), was living in their own place (instead of bumming with Gregg and his boyfriend), Mae was doing a good turn for a person that wasn't Mae and not just to avoid repercussions for a dumb thing they did.

Beatrice would be proud.

If Bea would return any calls, or texts, or IM's, or e-mails, or even acknowledge that Mae still existed.

"Duder," Gregg grunted. "You good to go?"

"I am good. to. go." Mae chuckled and rubbed at their round stomach, bemused by how nice it felt.

"Hey, yo, actually," Gregg had plugged in his keys but stopped. "We doin' the Longest Night thing? Orrr...-?"

"Man, ask yuh boy," Mae said with a wild shrug. "Bea won't talk to me. So we're gonna have to do it at your place. I guess."

"Yea, Bea's been off the grid lately, huh?" Gregg's head swiveled in a thoughtful manner, though his eyes gave away that said head was full of clouds. Fluffy clouds.

"Dude, we were off the grid tonight!" Mae pointed out. "That shit was fun. And chill. I don't even blame her."

"True. True. Well, I'll ask Angus about party-time. I mean, it is truh-dish-shun. Bee can't just ditch us."

"Yea. Yea. She wouldn't do that. We got days. We got time."

"We will get it figured and signed and sealed and delivered."

"We will," Mae agreed, not quite knowing what Gregg meant but knowing that if they thought about it, it would make sense somehow.

A fist-bump goodnight, and Mae was wobbling their way up the stairs to their own little cranny of the world. Third floor, second door on the left.

Went to open the door, aaaand it was locked. Mae went to grab the key, buuuut yea remember how they didn't remember to bring those with?

A -knock, knock- later and the door sesame'd open, revealing the path to endarkenment.

Mae's roommate looked like shit, though, honestly. The apartment was colder than a witch's nipple, and the lights were all off.

"The hell?" Mae grunted, switching things on and poking their fat fingers at the thermostat.

"Sorry," their roommate murmured, her voice hoarse. Fuck, was she sick? Mae couldn't catch that stuff. "I, uh, I was distracted," she explained. Kinda.

Soooo, porn, then? Probably porn. No judgments. Mae knew their bud hadn't been laid in, like, way too long – Mae could probably help out with that problem, if not for the whole, like...that being a thing, could be a very, very awkward thing. Also, Bea would not be proud. And that would be a bigger problem. God damnit did Mae miss that woman. Wait, what?

Right. Roommate troubles.

Mae's roommate was staring at them with dull, red eyes. Daaaamnnn those contacts really did pop, but hell if they weren't creepy, in a way.

Made Mae want a pair for themself, honestly.

"How was the...stuff?" the roommate groaned. She was clearly not awake enough for the whole 'talking' bit.

"Was good, was good," Mae said, heading right to their bedroom. "Gregg's ride is back up and running, Chloe's new job is legit, we just...ya know." They shrugged. "Had a little bake-bake, smash-smash." Mae gestured their hands to match their verbs.

Mae's roommate followed behind, shivering a little.

"Sounds...great," she mumbled warily. Judgy much?

As Mae sat on their own bed, grunting and struggling against their own pudge to get damned boots off, they noticed their roommate enter – and in the brighter lighting of their bedroom, the poor chick just looked...ill. Yea, definitely sick.

"Shit, Alex, you OK?"

"Not-...Not really, no," she spouted, undoing her ponytail. That teal color always seemed to catch eyes. It was what had caught Chloe's attention back whenever and caused them to meet in the first place. Crazy-haired people gravitated together, and all that. Mae had their red highlights, but had yet to fully commit to the red aesthetic.

Oh, right. Mae's bud was feeling, 'not really, no.'

"Oh," Mae said. Um. Before...sayingggg...something else?

No?
Not so much?
Hurm, couldn't think of anything.

Alex huffed and grunted and groaned, fussing her hair into a bun as she did so.
Aaaand here it came, another good ol' Alex-Rant-You-Didn't-Ask-For ™.

"Jonas has been up my ass lately over the expulsion thing – he doesn't get it, I don't handle that crap so well." ('Right, yea,' Mae went along.) "For a while there, I really thought we were, like, you know, bonding? As step-siblings?" ('Sure.') "But now, ohhh, all of a sudden he's trying to play the 'protective-big-brother' card and, well, sorry, Jonas, but that ship has fucking sailed – and sunk, literally." ('Mm. Tough.') "And I don't need someone else trying to 'step up' and take his place, you know?" ('Right.') "And Clarissa? Hoo, don't even get me started on her." ('Oh, no.') "She's trying to stir everything back up again." ('Seriously?') "Using me getting expelled as some-...some springboard to push her whole Anti-Alex Campaign! So." ('So.') "Family drama is a fucking mine field right now, too. To top it all off? This job search is killing me, it feels so damned hopeless." ('Oh, I know.') "How in the hell am I supposed to get an entry level job when all of the entry-level jobs require years of experience?!" ('Right?') "I mean, I've had it up to here with filling out stupid job apps where if you don't lie through your teeth, you don't even get interviewed."

After a tight pause, Alex sighed loudly.

"Tell me about it." Mae had been sprawled out in bed this whole time.

"To top it all off?" Oh. She wasn't done yet? She was counting abstract things on her fingers. "My blind date last night was a shit-show. My friends are all ignoring me, or pissed with me, or disappointed in me, or-...or all of the above." She tossed her hands up with a self-deprecating growl.

"Whaaaaat?" Mae squeaked, their eyelids getting heavy. "I ain't above. Any of. And-and-aaaand...what about Max? Eh?"

"I know she's reading my messages," Alex grumbled, "and she's not answering them."

"Know how that goes..." Mae yawned, cuddling up with their puffy pillow. "Buuut, c'mon, dude, I'm sure her and Chloe like you OK. They're just, ya know, busy, and...-" Another yawn, cutting themself off.

"I feel-..." Alex grunted fretfully. "I'm just scared I fucked things up with them, and I really like them, and I don't get why I even care this much, every time I make a new friend, it's like I just-"
"Whoaaaa, slow your roll, my compadre," Mae said sleepily.

"That's the problem, Mae – I am incapable of slowing...anything. Definitely not myself. And-and then I get stuck in this stupid fucking feedback loop of bitching, and hating myself for bitching, and then being too messed up to change anything, which leads to more bitching, and then-...And I'm freaking out that they must be so sick of me by now."

"Alexandra, my dude," Mae said, drifting off. "Those two are cool with you. I asked Chloe. Just tonight. They're just, like, riding on the low tide right now. Or is it high tide? The one that's more...-" Mae yawned yet again. "-...stressful."

Alex scratched at her ear, trying to figure out what Mae had meant. Gragh, Mae was useless whenever they came home after hanging out with those guys. The sad thing? Alex was jealous. She'd rather be out self-medicating and being a dumb vegetable, but at least feeling relaxed, as opposed to medicating at home. Alone. Angry. Wasting her life away on her hand-me-down laptop.

What if Alex wanted to get high and break things? Had Mae considered that?

Well, probably not. Alex had been a lot more focused on her school work up until that semester.

And look how that had turned out!

So, yea. Screw that, because it was over. No use worrying about it anymore. At least she'd never have to worry about homework ever again. Fuck the education system. Like it even mattered with how the economy had tumbled to hell, anyway.

"Alex," Mae said, fluttering their lips.

Alex slowed to a stop – she'd been pacing in circles.

"You needa chillax, mah gurl." Mae squirmed their foot around, jiggling it toward their jacket, which was in a heap on the floor. "I got those things you wanted from Chlo-bear. See? Toldja she'd pull through."

Alex froze, paralyzed by the possibilities of what was in store. Had Mae and Chloe somehow, against all odds, collectively coordinated their efforts to get Alex her pills?

Apparently, yes, Alex concluded, after frantically scrambling her hands through Mae's jacket.

"Oh, my farore," Alex sighed with relief. With some joy. "Thank you, thank you, hohhhh jeez, I really needed these." She hugged the plastic baggie like a teddy bear.

Mae, eyes closed on their bed, rotated out their hand and flicked their thumb up.

Mae murmured sleepily, "gotchu fam . . ."

Alex downed one of the pills dry – stung a bit on the way down – and switched off the room's light.

She re-adjusted to the dark, slinking back into her bed.

Alex opened up her laptop, its bright white light waking her tired eyes up. She popped on her headphones, a clunky old pair of ancient-looking things her brother Michael had used. They still worked, so...she hadn't gotten rid of them. Same with the laptop, too, actually.

In the pale contrast of the dark bedroom, filled with a white, backlit haze, Alex felt like she was being choked by the light. By the memories of him. By the same 'What if?' questions she'd been struggling to put behind her about the night Michael had died.

She'd thought she'd put that shit behind her.
She really had.
But now, with everything getting stirred back up...-

Alexandra Olas was supposed to be better than this.
And she was not.
She couldn't even graduate college.
She'd choked.
Like she had back then – when Michael was choking.

Getting through college – she'd promised him she was going to go through with it. And she'd failed him. Like she always had. Like she'd failed him in his final fucking moments. Even after he was gone, she was still failing him.

Why could she just not make a shit-storm out of everything?
Why did her mistakes keep repeating, and repeating?

On the verge of tearing up at the painful memories and thoughts pinching at the edges of her skull, her ears were suddenly filled with a familiar, jarring sound.

Her IM app had reconnected.

[ Beyonder ]
[ v. 8.3.7 ]

Any new messages?

Of course not.

Had Max gotten back to her yet? She checked her recent sent messages.

-( But yea. Suffice it to say that my little outburst didn't go over well. )
-( And, of course, Clarissa took it as an opportunity to go for the jugular. )
-( The fucking jaguar she is. )
-( I've got 'til the end of the month before I'm cut loose. )
-( So yea. Now I'm looking for work and it sucks hard. )
-( Like a lot. I have no IDEA where to start. Everywhere feels like a dead end. )
-( What about you? You mentioned a bigger job you're working on? )
-( And I heard from Mae that your wife found a gig at an auto shop? )

She'd sent those messages three and a half days ago.

That pervasive little ( Seen ) indicator at the end of the thread confirmed her worries, and she could feel herself slipping into that spiral of echoing questions, a never-ending loop of anxiety.

Alex let out a sigh as quietly as she could, trying to regain herself. Max had a habit of taking a long time to reply, or even forgetting to reply altogether. It didn't mean she didn't care, right? She just had a busy life.

Busy enough that it no room for Alex in it, maybe.

Alex couldn't help herself. She added more IMs to the conversation.

-( BTW it's been a long time since we've seen each other. )
-( With the holidays creeping up, I was wondering what you two were up to. )
-( We might be trying to get something together for New Year's. )
-( Nothing too huge, probably just go out for drinks, you know? )

Alex drummed her fingertips against the edge of her laptop as she considered how to end her masked attempt at pleading for attention.

-( Think you'd be interested? )

After tapping her { Enter } key and letting that be that, she minimized the Beyonder app.

She opened up her web browser to try and resume what she'd been doing before Mae had gotten home. The episode of questionably uploaded television she'd been watching had been thrown all out of whack from shutting her computer into sleep mode. She'd have to re-buffer the whole damn episode just to pick up where she left. Screw that. She was not in the mood.

Her web browser still had The Augmented Eye open from an 'anti-millennial' click-bait article...which had redirected her to another piece reinforcing her frustration with the economy, which had redirected her to a fluff piece about some night club downtown. She'd gotten so worked up over the first two that she'd left a multi-paragraph comment railing on the author bashing millennials. Really blunt, like a boot up the ass.

Alex didn't even know why she still read The Augmented Eye, but it was probably for the same reason her parents still watched MTT News – it was easier that way.

Alex caught her drifting, sleepy brain wandering toward self-loathing thoughts about her own complicity and helplessness to change anything wrong with...everything. But before she slipped off the edge and into the abyss of it all, her phone lit up from the edge of her bed. Her eyes darted right to it.

Shit.
It was Clarissa.

( We need to talk. )-
( Tomorrow. )-

Alex could feel her teeth clenching against each other, and she had to consciously loosen her jaws. Her brain bounced between, like, three different responses, simultaneously. She tried to type one out.

-( Oh, so you can re-hash the same tired bullshit all over again?)
She deleted it. She tried again.

-( Why are you on my back so much lately? What did I ever )
Damnit. No. Delete, delete. Try again.

-( Why? )

Satisfied with such a simple, short text, she fired it away. She then set her phone face down on her bed and went back to her laptop.

She'd gotten an IM on Beyonder from someone with the handle ( The_Unseeing_Sister ).

( Is this Paradoxical-Alex? )-
( A user who comments on the Augmented Eye. )-

What the hell? Why was someone looking up her contact info? Was this about that comment she'd left?

She replied, intently perplexed.

-( Yes. )
-( Why? )
-( Who is this? )

They answered instantly.

( I saw your rather 'passionate' comment on Dawson's article. )-
( You realize he is the Editor in Chief of the publication, do you not? )-

Alex responded,
-( Oh. ^_^; Yeaaaaa... )
-( If that chauvinistic asshole is free to spew actual garbage out onto the net, )
-( I'm certainly allowed to try to clean up the mess he leaves behind. )

The other said,
( Hm. An intriguing way of looking at it. )-
( Especially seeing as how he could banish you in an instant. )-

-( From the website? LOL )
-( Yea, I think I wouldn't care so much tbh. )
-( It's a toxic waste dump of the internet. )

( Well, not as much as channel. . . )-
( ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) )- – a 'Lenny Face'? Pff.

-( fffffff xD )
-( Good point. )
-( But, still. )
-( Being banned from the AE would be like a badge of pride. )

( Hm. I suppose I can understand. )-
( But a piece of advice: burning bridges and cutting ties – this cannot be undone. )-

-( When it's from a poisonous jerk who just uses people for attention? )
-( I think I'll make an exception. )

( A fair perspective. I am merely giving my own. )-

-( Sure. I'm curious, though. . . )
-( What do you really want with me? )

( Hm. ;) )- – a winky-face?
( A sharp one, aren't you? )-

-( Not sharp enough, apparently. =_= )

( What makes you say that? )-

-( Oh, I don't know, letting my brother die? Dropping out of college? Ruining my fu )
Argh, no. Stop. Delete. You don't even know who this person is.
Alex re-worked an alternate reply.

-( Not feeling so great about my decision-making skills lately. =S )

( Every choice one makes is like a swing of the sword. )-
( It cannot be undone. )-
( If a sword strikes air, no harm done. Or so it seems. )-
( However, )-
( if it cuts down a bridge, )-
( severs a connection, )-
( ends a life? )-
( Words, as well. )-
( Words, once spoken, printed, written, laid out. . . )-
( These cannot be undone. )-
( Even when one thinks they can. )-

Huh. A bit of a poet, this one?
-( So the pen – or the keyboard, as it were – really is mightier than the sword. )

( Ha! I suppose when you've spent as long as I have wandering through endless words. . . )-
( you lose sight of how simple it is to express such thoughts. )-

Hoh, jeez. Maybe Alex had stumbled into someone she'd regret humoring.
-( Too much time on channel, huh? ^^;; )

( Perhaps. )-

-( The toilet of the internet, amirite? )

( And here you and I are, wayward fecal specks colliding by way of its swirling whirlpool. )-

Alex could feel her brows furrow into an amused but perplexed expression.
She nearly belted out a laugh, but contained it so as to not wake Mae.
-( Uh )
-( x'D )
-( When you put it like that. . . )
-( Though it also doubles as a metaphor for my whole life. )

( Oh? Many sword strikes swung through the walls of your own home? )-

-( Something like that. )

( This I can relate with. )-

-( Is that so? )

( It is so. )-
( But I inquired first. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) )- - again with the Lenny Face. A bit spicy, this one.

-( fffff )
-( TBH I don't even know where I'd start. )
-( The part where I helplessly watched my brother drown in front of )
Alex stopped herself.
DAMNIT, Alex, what is wrong with you?
This is a fucking stranger, they're not interested in your whole life story.

Even though she deleted the words, it was just as this rando had said:
the thought could not be undone, even if the act of typing out the words had been.
When asked about her life, who she was, why did it always gravitate so quickly
to him?
To Michael.
And then instantly to how fucked up she was?

She ultimately left her reply at
-( TBH I don't even know where I'd start. )
yet now found the weight of that truth quite heavy.

( The first step toward rehabilitation is the most difficult. )-
( I have learned this the hard way. )-
( We shall reserve such talk for when you do know where to start. )-

-( You make it sound like we're friends or something. )

( Ha! Such a thought I'd never fancy, worry not. )-
( Make no mistake, )-
( Paradoxical-Alex, )-
( I am simply a gatherer of information. )-

Alex was confused. It actually...hurt a little.
Yep. Definitely stung.
She was so bad at keeping friends she was getting rejected even before she cared.
What. The hell.
And here she was, keeping a top on all of her trauma from spilling out.
God damn, she was too fucking hungry for human contact.
She hated it.

-( Gatherer of information. . . )
-( Speaking in flowery riddles. . . ಠ_ಠ )
-( Making 'inquiries' to randos on the Augmented Eye. . . )
-( So, are you a writer, or something? )

( Ha! I've not thought to call myself as such, but maybe you are on to something. . . )-

-( What makes you say that? )

( Does a pen, mighty as it may be, wield power in and of itself? )-
( Does a keyboard consider itself a writer? )-
( If so, then I suppose I am one. )-
( And you, here and now, for a time, )-
( are my Reader. (¬‿¬) )-

OK. Uh-huh. All right.
Alex was confused.
But this person was certainly interesting.
And, you know. Actually responding when she said things?
Kind of a nice plus.
So they were probably some kind of lackey at the AE.
Or maybe one of its competitors?
Hm, they seemed freelance, maybe.
Well, whatever. Whoever. They were chatty.
Alex liked that.

-( Well. I suppose I am. )
-( You know, here and now, at least. )
-( For a time. ;D )

( Time: such a thing is far more valuable than many realize. )-

Something about this remark really struck a chord in Alex's gut.
She found herself nodding in agreement to the light of her laptop's screen in the dark.

-( I'm with you, there. )
-( Explain that to my family when I try to tell them what a waste college was. )

( Was? Your profile states that you are a student of Blackwell University. )-

-( Oh, ha. ^_^';; Yea, I was. Until this month. )
Damnit, she needed to start. . .going around and updating that crap.
Her entire life needed an 'update.'
But switching every profile over from 'Hopeful Student' to 'Pessimistic Addict?'
Yea. She wasn't in a rush to go blasting that on social media.

( Why do you feel your time there was a waste? )-

-( A LOT of reasons. Too many to get into right now. )

( Yet another future footstep in your path to rehabilitation. )-

That word – 'rehabilitation' – rubbed Alex all kinds of wrong.
But she wasn't going to let one irritating word ruin what was going on here.
-( Wow, so I'm a case study for you, now? )
-( You gonna write some character based on me? :P )

( It is quite enough energy to write my own self as it is. )-
( It takes all of my being. )-
( To will into existence someone else – someone real – is far beyond my capabilities. )-
( Though, perhaps, not impossible with the right assistance. . . )-

-( Sooooo )
-( That's a 'no,' then. xD )
-( I was joking, btw. )

( I do not joke. )-
( I do not tell stories. )-
( I collect information. )-
( And I distribute it in kind, so others may learn what they need to. )-
( When they need to. )-

-( Isn't that what a story is in the first place? )
-( That's its purpose, in a way, isn't it? )

Alex saw the animated ( . . . ) of a reply being typed, only to see it stop a split second later.

A pause in their conversation before she received a response.

( You amuse me, Paradoxical-Alex. )-

-( You can just call me Alex. )

( I can call you whatever pleases me. ;D )-

-( It's a free country, I guess. )

( But not a free city. )-

-( Huh? )

( On that subject, how long have you lived here? )-

-( 'Here?' )

( Arcadia. )-

Alex was a bit irked. How did this stranger know where they lived?

( According to your profile, you reside in Arcadia. )-
( Is this, too, incorrect? )-

Oh. Doy.
-( Ah, yea. Still here. )
-( Feeling a bit stuck, actually. )

( I think I know the feeling. . .)-

-( How so? )

( Ha. A tale too complex for the crossroads we currently traverse. )-

Um. A plain 'don't wanna talk about it' would've worked fine.
-( Oh. Well, mine is simple. )
-( I dropped out of college. )

( You lost interest in learning? )-

-( More like it lost interest in me. )

( Ha. I suppose knowledge has a tendency to elude our pursuits... )-

-( My roommate's a dropout, too. )
-( Birds of a feather, I guess. )

( Flocking together. )-

-( Pathetically crash landing into the same nest, I'd say. )

( I see. )-
( That it a shame. )-

That was it for a bit.
Alex waited a few minutes.
But the stranger didn't say more.
Damnit, now she looked like some mopey loser.
Her mind began wandering to places she didn't like.
She checked her phone, out of habit. She regretted doing so.
Even this late, and sure enough. . .a reply.

( From: Clarissa )
( Why? Because you are SLIPPING. )-
( I promised Michael I'd keep an eye on you. )-
( Try to help take care of you. )-
( Your parents sure as hell aren't. )-

Alex rolled her weary, bloodshot eyes at this.
Of course Clarissa would bring that up.
Like some errant request her brother had once made at some point
somehow justified her pushing Alex out of her own family.
What wreckage was left of her family, anyway.
Aaaaand Clarissa was still at it.

( Don't even get me started on how you broke the promise YOU made to him. )-
( Which you could still fix, you know. )-
( I've been talking with Jonas, and there are community options. )-

-( WTF )
-( You BARELY even knew Michael )
-( and here you are, plotting with my step-brother over MY future? )

( I knew him better than you think, Alex. )-
( Don't pull this whiney shit with me again. )-
( We could argue all day over this. We have, and I am SICK of it. )-

Alex could feel her chest pounding from anxiety.
That ( . . . ) animation of a text being typed was nerve-wracking now.

( But right here, right now? )-
( You fucked up. )-
( Honor your brother's memory and FINISH what you started. )-
( Jonas is picking you up tomorrow, )-
( and you are going to stop hiding from this. )-

Her eyes watered from fear and dread and anger.
Alex locked her phone. She flipped it face down again.
She checked her Beyonder app on her laptop.

( I see. )-
( That it a shame. )-
Same message as before.

She didn't want the conversation to end, but didn't know where to take it.
Alex caught herself stammering – in text form.
Which meant she was invested in this, whatever this was.

-( Anyways, I, um )
-( if it matters... )

( It does. )-
( Every single word. )-

Alex's heart fluttered with relief at the instant reply.
But she gave pause at this.
She knew this stranger wasn't referring to her, specifically.
Waxing poetic about the power of words, yadda-yadda.
But she couldn't help but feed on the attention.

-( I'm taking some time off. )

Agh, fuck. That sounded so-...so like her life was a disastrous wreck.
It was, of course. But she needed to set a better impression.
But she couldn't just lie.

( Time off to do what, precisely? )-

-( Just to, I dunno, readjust my priorities. )
-( Figure out what I want to do. )

( With your time. )-
( That which you possess. )-

-( R-right, yea. )

( 俳句 : )-
( Generating words )-
( Thoughts given form in some way )-
( Directly to you )-

Alex was left aghast for a moment.
She copy-pasted the text ' 俳句' into her web browser.
Looked like it meant 'haiku.'
Huh. Well, speaking of waxing poetic...
Oh, another one?

( Paradoxical )-
( I cannot help but wonder )-
( Are you whom I seek? )-

Alex wasn't sure what was going on.
But she would reply in kind, counting syllables with her finger.

-( Sought by no one, I, )
-( Like a ripple in the sea, )
-( Echo eternally )

( Ripples of you, yes )-
( I cannot see but detect )-
( A paradox, to be sure )-

-( Life doesn't make sense )
-( I gave up trying to see )
-( A future for me )

( Intriguing, you are, )-
( A book opened, pages wet )-
( The ink merged with the ocean )-

-( I'd love to keep this up, )
-( but it is LATE )
-( and my eyes are drooping )
-( I can barely keep them open. -_- )

( You should let them close )-
( A wealth can be discovered )-
( When one's eyes are shut )-

-( Heh. Maybe so. ^u^' )
-( Well, it's been fun. )
Alex yawned, letting her eyes slide closed as she waited.

Ripples in the ocean water.
Moonlight in the reflection.
Shattered.
Bubbles. Dissipated.
But the ripples kept going.
And going.

Damn, Alex was really nodding off. . .
She'd started slipping into slumber, there.
She had to wrap this up.
She yawned again, drizzling out more text with one hand, her chin sitting the other.
-( nice to meet you )
-( uh.. )
-( what's your name )

( You may call me Sandra. )-
( I do wish for us to speak like this again. )-

-( i'll be on tomorrow night )
-( you should give me something to read )

( Ha. Indeed, I suppose I shall. )-
( Despite my oddities, you still wish to read what I might have to say? )-

Alex rubbed at her eyes, blinked, and tried to be more coherent for the end.
-( Oddities? )
-( We're all odd. )

( I must warn you, I am more 'odd' than most. )-

-( Good. :) )
-( Odd is interesting. )

( Ha. The feeling is mutual. )-
( The sentiment, rather. )-
( So, it is agreed, then? )-
( I shall try to Write. )-
( And you shall be my Reader. )-
( Despite my inadequacies. )-

-( Inadequacies? )
-( Pfff, whatever. ;P )
-( I'm sure it'll be fun. )
-( It's something to do. Right? )

\/\/+()+X+()+/\/\

Frisk and Toriel originate from Undertale (toby fox)
Aloy originates from Horizon: Zero Dawn (Guerrilla Games)
Lena ('Tracer'), Ana, and Brigitte originate from Overwatch (Blizzard)
Jill and Gillian originate from VA-11 HALL-A (Sukeban Games)
Max and Chloe originate from Life is Strange (DontNod)
Mae and Gregg originate from Night in the Woods (Infinite Fall)
Alex originates from Oxenfree (Night School Studio)
Sandra originates from Pyre (Supergiant Games)