Lung waited, a trivial task, but one that he knew must perform.

The place that housed C.U.I. prisoners were located somewhere in the mountains. Lung knew not where and no one would offer him the information even if he had asked. All Lung could tell was that it was located in a valley, with mountains in the distance on either side, just visible past the tall walls that enclosed the area.

The days within the facility past with no difference discerning them. Lung spent them learning the area, the people, the guards once more.

A week he had been free from the pit so far. He was still trapped in a way, but compared to the last two years, it was nothing.

After being removed from the pit, Lung had been placed back into the prison proper, this time among those of a more dangerous rank. This group was more heavily watched than the others and largely comprised of capes, hopefuls for the Yàngbǎn to increase their strength. Some had even already begun to train in the Yàngbǎn manner.

They were smart, knowing that he would not have yielded so easily.

By placing him there, Lung became limited in how he could use his power. With him being the outsider, all were wary of him, and none would stand beside him without him forcing them into line. Because of this, a fight was risky, as while his power made him strong, he still could be killed or crippled if he failed to grow fast enough, or was hit by an attack before he got strong enough to fight back.

So he waited, watching, biding his time.

Many would assume that Lung lacked intelligence, not in that he wasn't smart, but that he was simple.

But simpleton he was not, already he had seen a path out. The yard.

Most of the prison was sealed, isolated into sections, but each section was granted shared use of the yard. It was the only place that nearly all the groups intermingled, even if it was but once per day.

Lung knew that he needed others, people that we willing to fight by his side to freedom. Trouble would be finding them. Many would fight, but few would fight with direction, and even fewer would join into a fight in progress, making the chances of forming a riot to ramp up his power, less than likely.

It would take time to feel out those that were clever enough to plan together, ones that would work together long enough to break out. The yard was key however, for there he could grow, and strike down those around him in a fight with dozens if not more.

With the space and the numbers that it came with, his power would go from there, growing in strength as he fought and was fought against.

Until he was covered in scales that could take any blow, had claws that could tear and rend flesh, and would spit fire at his foes.

Any that fought him would feel the cold embrace of death bearing down upon them, delivered by The Dragon.

However, the plan last time had ended when Tōng had buried him into the earth, so Lung knew that he needed more than just a handful of those that were willing to fight beside him for a shot at freedom; he needed a distraction, something that could give him the time that he needed.

So he waited, locating those that wished for freedom and drawing them to his cause, by force if necessary. He would find the leaders and draw them in, controlling their followers with them. Then, he would fight anew, seeking a way out through the chaos. It would just take time.

He would slumber, for now, waiting. He would contain his scales and fire within himself. His guards were watching, waiting for him to make a move that they knew he would make, they were ready to strike back at a moment's notice.

But it would only take a moment; Lung could feel his power flexing at this command, scales rustling just under his skin as he was constantly eyed by guard and prisoner alike. He didn't need much, just enough to start a fight, to build in strength from that fight.

He had fought an Endbringer and forced it back into the sea, the Yàngbǎn were nothing before those beasts.

He just needed time.

Like many things however, life rarely provided what one wanted. But it also could give what one needed.

It happened with a suddenness, unexpected.

Lung had spent several days working over people, feeling out those that were looking for a way out; which was everyone really. The issue was that some had grown used to the situation and were unwilling to extend the trust needed to join another's plan.

Trust was had to come by in the short term, and many remembered him and what he had done. It worked both ways; some feared him and would follow at his word if acted. Others viewed him as arrogant, seeking nothing but power where he was lacking it.

He had been forced to tilt his head down at many, if only to gain the information he needed from his fellow prisoners. This grated at him, to almost bow to another, but it was needed. Fists and claws would only turn them against him now.

Days of meetings, of talks, of controlling himself when he wished for nothing more than to strike at those that viewed themselves as better than him, as stronger, had forced Lung to reign in his beast to prevent it from raging.

Which was why when one of the guard's head exploded during their limited outside time, Lung was unprepared.

He had curled into himself, as if to slumber until his moment. The blood and gore barely did more than shift the beast.

Confusion rustled within the yard, it wasn't that uncommon for a death to occur within the facility, but most were on the prisoners' side, when one would just not stop fighting and wasn't valuable enough to contain that was.

This was different. This was unprecedented; what exactly was happening?

The answer was given by the sounds of gunfire.

Rounds ripped into leaders and attendants. Limbs were removed, bodies were blown open, blood sprayed across the stone of the yard.

Chaos reigned; fights brought out as some seized the moment. Prisoners rallied, leaders spun followers forward, only for Yàngbǎn capes and guards to step in, beating them back. More deaths occurred among the facilities ranks, a path of carnage forming from the deaths as something zigzagged through the ranks.

An opportunity. Yet Lung held back, watching, even as teams of both C.U.I. guards and Yàngbǎn capes consolidated to fight back against the unseen foe. Shields were placed, powers to control the winds, the stone, water were used, striking out at places ordered by leaders. Beams of light swished through the air, formations turned and tracked the deaths, and something flew through the air.

It darted past Lung, small enough he could have crushed in it his hand. A cape?

Pain, along his chest, Lung grunted. It was an unexpectedly deep wound.

His hand came up to touch the line of blood welling up from it. Eyes tracked the path of the flyer and narrowed at the little wisps of color following it.

… butterflies?

A whistle in the air, and a pod lands in the middle of the fight, nose-first into the ground. Large, black, angular, it bore similarities to a plane, with little stubby wings, and an engine mounted on the back.

An attack? Against the Yàngbǎn? Foolishness.

But still, an opportunity not to be wasted, for the fight had grown, doors were blown up and more guards and Yàngbǎn showed themselves, seeking to return order.

The scales came easy, the rage that Lung felt boiling over as the beast within drew up, released from its sleeping. Built by his treatment, enhanced by some of the surrounding teams turning their fire upon him as he joined the other prisoners in fighting, Lung rose into power quickly.

Several nearby people scattered as Lung grew, wisely getting out of the man's way as he sped towards the newest cluster of Yàngbǎn.

The group shifted their aim as one, sending sharp blasts of black light at Lung. The impacts tore into his scales and knocked him back a few steps, but that only fueled him. Even as the smoldering hole was healing, Lung rushed forward, his claws slicing through the air to strike down the capes before him.

The pod burst open, black inky soup slipping forth into the air. It twisted in ways no liquid should, and capes stepped from it, emerging like something out of a horror story. They lacked the discipline of the Yàngbǎn; many wore costumes that were homemade, some had outfits that spoke of more professionalism. Yet, they advanced forth, firing off with powers, some taking to the sky.

And others used weapons, guns.

Fire was traded between the two sides, the guards for the C.U.I. opening up on the newcomers, while the newcomers did the same with bullets and beams of light. Chaos, and Lung thrived in it.

Bullets smacked into his hide, feeding his growth, and Lung advanced. But not upon the newcomers, but to the Yàngbǎn capes.

He would remember the attack, but the newcomers seemed to think he was with the Yàngbǎn. But as he attacked the Yàngbǎn, the fire from the newcomers slacken off, until they were supporting him with their fire.

Which was not needed, for he was Lung, the Dragon.

Shields were placed before him, he destroyed them with a swipe of his claws. They took flight, he spat fire at them. Black portals appeared, drawing in the air around them, but Lung was far too large to be pulled in by that point, towering over them by at least six feet, and the attack was abandoned as he closed the gap.

It was then that he realized something strange, his moments, they seemed… easier, more, in control. Attacks peppered his scales and he ignored most of them, instead choosing to focus on the team before.

He did not roar a challenge, he did not scream his fury, he was less of The Dragon, the Beast, and more of the warrior, seeking the next foe to destroy. The heights and rush that he normally associated with his power were missing, instead there was just strength and surety.

It was different, his power usually pushed him forward, onward towards the fight, his foe, and target.

Here he felt like a conductor, directing his next strike even as he was working on the first. His mind was clear and focused, none of the usual battle rage engulfing him.

While it was disconcerting, Lung was still fighting, and the newcomers had stopped fighting him and were instead fighting alongside him, so Lung figured that now was not the time for questions.

Capes and guards died by the dozens; prisoners that foolishly got in his way shared the same fate as Lung tore through the masses, fueled by attacked, yet focused enough that he could twist his power into making him faster, and to heal quicker, rather than simply increases his size.

All too soon it was over, and Lung huffed and puffed, surrounded by blood and twisted bodies.

Further out, the outsiders watched, wary. A few had their powers licking around them, others took a stance, ready to fight. Some were tending to the wounded or were restraining others. Many were eyeing Lung, for a man that could fight an Endbringer on even ground was a man to be feared.

Lung huffed in amusement. Did they think they could fight him? He was Lung, the Yàngbǎn had to resort to cowardly tactics to defeat him, even then, all they did in the end was delay his victory over them.

Now? With his power mysteriously altered? They didn't stand a chance.

"Hello Lung," came a voice in fluent Japanese. "I would rather not have us fight, as it is unnecessary. So, would you mind not glaring at everyone around you?"

Lung turned, his neck shifting to allow him to view over his shoulder. There was a cape, one that he recognized, if only from reputation. He glanced at his scale-covered claws.

'Ah, that explained it.'

Lung finished his turn, advancing on the woman in the kimono. Non-traditional, noted the man, more open, less layered and less restricted, but still retaining the style and long sleeves, of which she'd tucked her arms into.

"Given the circumstances, one may be excused for being wary," began Lung. "There are few reasons for attacking a prison, other to free the prisoners. I know of none here that you would seek and only wish to leave this place, so release me from your grasp Kuzunoha. I will not be your puppet."

Lung noted he spoke clearly now. A side effect of better control over his power?

He towered over the woman, Kuzunoha, one of the strongest capes in the world, who had to crane her head up to look him in the eyes. Her pair mismatched blue and gold eyes stared him down without blinking. Behind her, her long fluffy tail swished easily, while her ears stayed alert and erect.

A Case 53, Kuzunoha rose though the Protectorate ranks by virtue of being the second strongest Trump they had, as well as having a personality only unmatched by Hero, even despite having the animalistic features of a fox spread over her body.

Lung knew from pictures that one of her hands was covered in red fur and ended in claws for example. While the set of ears on top of her head were a second set, and matched the red of her hair elsewhere. There were other details, but Lung cared for them not, he simply wished to leave this place and Kuzunoha and her forces were possibly in his way, as he did not know what they were here for.

Beside her was a cape that he didn't know or recognize, armored and utterly unconcerned with his presence.

She floated a foot off the ground, hovering in place. Her armor mostly held a shade of blue and greys, with a kind of red-pink running up the front and lining along her arms. On her shoulders and hips, blue butterflies rested, occasionally flapping their wings. Her neck was long for her body, and reminded Lung of an image of a woman he'd once seen, of someone in Africa perhaps? A pair of protrusions extended from her lower back, having the appearance of butterfly wings. Her helmet was a curved slab of metal, oblong-shaped, split in the middle up to the top, where it ended in points and it contained no visible eye slots.

Around her, floated even more butterflies. One was even rested on her raised hand, which what was taking up her attention.

Lung ignored the cape. Her armor was… interesting, as it didn't seem to be the normal Tinker-Tech. Changer perhaps? But she was not his current concern.

Kuzunoha sighed and shook her head, one ear flickering, before turning to glance her companion.

"Do you see what I have to deal with?" she asked her floating companion. Her next words however, were directed at Lung.

"That's not how my power works Lung, I am not Teacher. It will either fade in time or distance, and the former is dependent on the last time I used it."

Lung mashed his four-parted mouth together, thinking.

"You are far from the reach of the PRT," Lung began, addressing one of the most famous capes in the world like they had simply bumped into each other. "And it rare to see a member of the Silver Seven outside the States unless at an Endbringer fight. Has war broken out between China and America?"

Kuzunoha cocked her head to one side. "… ah, you don't know. I left the Protectorate ranks last year. I run with a new organization now, one that will hopefully do more good than the PRT ever will."

The Silver Seven, the pride and joy of the PRT, now fractured? Interesting.

"… Things changed when Hero died, killed by someone we call the Siberian."

Lung blinked. Had he said that part aloud?

"This, I know. My condolences." His words were a mere formality. He had no love for the 'PRT' and the American 'heroes.' But even with that, Hero seemed to be a man of his word and of his actions. His passing could be considered a tragedy to most.

To Lung? Not so much.

But it was simply bad form to speak ill of the dead right in the face of those that knew them.

Even Lung wasn't that much of an ass.

"Interestingly," Kuzunoha continued. "Argonaut is trying to reform the Canadian Guild, while Icarus has formed his own sub-group within the Protectorate, Sentinel, so I am not the only one to walk away from the PRT. So yes, the Silver Seven is no more."

Lung hummed. With Japan all but sank and the C.U.I. having imprisoned him, Lung knew that he needed a new place to call 'home.'

America had a large amount of refugees from the disaster at Japan, perhaps he would carve out a place for himself there.

But first.

"What is your purpose here?"

Kuzunoha smiled. "Does it matter to you Lung? Given your reaction to Protectorate recruitment, one would think you would up and have walked away at this point. Add that to where we are, I am really surprised that you still here. It isn't like anyone is stopping you from leaving."

Lung glanced around. It was true, other than a few wary eyes, most of the people still in the yard were tending to the wounded or prisoners. Most had taken the fact that he was talking to Kuzunoha as that he wasn't going to attack anytime soon and had dismissed him.

"… I do not know where we are," Lung ground out.

Kuzunoha rolled her eyes. "And asking is either beneath you, or, more likely, it never crossed your mind." The cape sighed and waved one of the nearby people over.

"I'll get you a map of the area, and while I do not know the details, we will have transport out of here soon. You can go alone or with them."

Kuzunoha spoke to the person that she waved over, their body hidden by a skin-tight suit, with their faces hidden behind a mask and visor. Mounted on one of their wrists was a Tinker Tech weapon, three free-floating curved pieces of metal, one on top of the arm and two at the sides, held in place by a glow on their arm.

"I will be honest Lung," Kuzunoha continued. "I would like to speak to you about something; a job offer, so to speak."

"No."

"It pays very well," Kuzunoha continued without missing a beat. "And while I have no doubt that a man of your particular skills will find something as you go, having something to start with will surely help."

Lung was silent on the matter. With nothing to his name, not even clothes, given his transformation; it would take some time to get to where he needed to go.

The promise of money did have its own appeal.

"If you wish to talk about it, then I will be over there, talking to my allies."

With that, Kuzunoha turned away, speaking to her companion as the moved away from Lung.

"You must have gotten Tōng, else we would all be underground by now; my thanks."

"No sign of One or Two however," her companion replied in an off voice. "Intel was bad. I'll be sure to talk to them about it, ask what happened."

Their words caught Lungs' attention, as did their actions. To walk away from the Dragon so easy and to have killed Tōng as well, both spoke of power. Furthermore…

Wait," he demanded. Both women stopped to look back at the slowing receding Dragon.

"You sought the leaders of the Yàngbǎn?"

"Does it matter?" Kuzunoha shot back. "We have no reason to tell you anything, just as you have no reason to stay. Unless you are considering my offer?"

When Lung didn't immediately respond, Kuzunoha walked away, speaking orders to those now gathered around her as she did so.

Lung growled and curled his claws into fists. He felt anger at being dismissed so casually. It wasn't enough to fuel his growth, but it was enough to pull flames into his hands.

"You likely think that she wishes to recruit you, you aren't entirely wrong."

This was from the unknown cape as she walked past him. She paused for a moment, her helmet somehow gazing into his own face to the point that he could feel her eyes upon him and spoke once more.

"Kuzunohas' and your own path will only intersect here Lung, and only a fool would dismiss this chance out of hand."

Lung growled once more; he would follow no leader and made to speak as such. But the cape continued on.

"Where you go after this is up to you; continue on your own, or follow another's path. There is nothing stopping you from choosing either one, other than yourself. If you choose to follow Kuzunoha, then know that she only will ask for you to carry your own weight; she will not demand service, that is not how she works. But perhaps that is the issue? The following someone else part? You are the Dragon after all, yes?"

"I am," Lung replied. "And Dragons bow to no man."

The cape starred at him for a moment, before she began to walk past him while speaking.

"Then think of it like this; you are alone, and so far from home. Is the pride of a dragon so strong as that it would refuse companionship and safety over it? Think of this what could you will learn instead? There are many things one can learn by themselves, but with others one can learn many things at once. Plus, Kuzunoha does not ask for obedience, but for people that are willing to follow her of their own cause; if you find yourself not traveling down her path in the future, then you may walk away, and be better from your experiences."

"The choice, ultimately, is yours."

With that, the figure walked away. Lung watched her for a moment, before turning his gaze back towards where Kuzunoha was speaking to others.

The capes words were true, Lung had nothing. It was a first for the cape, he had always had something to start from, a base, a home, a hideout, even allies or underlings. Here? With his capture and subsequent transformation, he did not even have clothes.

Lung would be somewhat stuck in the initial phase of finding his way home. Not a particularly hard task for someone like him but annoying none the less. There was always was a way of getting things he'd found.

Some were more preferable than others howe-

Lung spun as a ka-whoosh sound off behind him, and managed to catch the unknown cape launching herself into the air, an even larger pair of wings mounted on their back propelling them fast into the sky.

'… fucking Tinkers,' thought Lung as he watched the figure rapidly fade into the distance. However, her words still remained behind.

The former prisoner took a moment to weigh his decisions.

Then he began to walk towards Kuzunoha, shrinking as he went.

Lung had to grimace, he did not like not knowing how his power worked, at least with how it was before Kuzunoha interference he would have a good feeling of what was to come, of what goals he needed to strive towards.

Like this however, it was like a reserve, a well that he withdrew his power into as he drew it back.

He did not like it; what were the limits? Would his power store up and allow him to change at a whim? Or was it only good in a fight? Or, would it fade, and he would have to build it back up once more?

This rankled him, it felt that the formula had been reversed, with his power now leading him on, rather than he leading it.

One of the first things he will ask of Kuzunoha, would be to never mess with his power again.

Provided that he found her… offer,

The cape in question caught him approaching out of the corner of her eye, and she shifted her head to look at him as he approached.

… before her eyes glanced down, then flickered up his along his body, nearly causing him to stumble.

Did she just? …

And now she was smiling a vulpine grin at him, showing no signs of what she had just done.

Lung huffed, and without puffing his chest out, continued forth towards the cape.

'Well, this could be… interesting.'


TechHerder: We need to talk Grandmaster. About Ordis.

GrandMaster: There is nothing to talk about.

BioLifter: We beg to differ, there are concerns among the Clans. Ordis is the sole Cephalon that we still have active, and he is the oldest of any we know.

GrandMaster: He is fine, there is no reason to shut him down!

GlassMaker: We don't want to shut him down! Just… take him offline for repairs. The last thing we want is to decode him; the knowledge stored within Ordis is far too great to be lost.

GrandMaster: Repairs that you have no idea how to do!

DataFinder: You doubt the Triplets? Remember what they did to the Cradle?

GrandMaster: Yes, I do. But I also remember what happened when we were at Sword. They screwed us there, just because they were 'curious' about the tech.

GlassMaker: You are one to talk. Look who is still running around in a Warframe, acting the part of an honorable warrior.

GrandMaster: By theVoid Trix! Just because-

BoneBeast: No names-

GrandMaster: -you have forsaken-

BoneBeast: -are allowed-

GrandMaster: -the path of a warrior-

BoneBeast: -while using the-

GrandMaster: -doesn't mean the rest of us have!

BoneBeast: -Weave! Our enemies might be listening. Any one of them could be connected and recording as we speak.

DataFinder:I would say this is unlikely, but given the 'bullshit' that is Tinker-Tech, it is possible. Plus, there is still the matter of the gear lost by SwiftHopper, not to mention we still don't fully understand the power capabilities of our Grand Foe.

PathHidder: Don't speak ill of the dead Finder, it is considered bad form.

DataFinder: … ah, yes. Apologizes.

TechHerder: Should we take this conversion elsewhere? I mean, Ordis is right here.

BoneBeast: Ordis doesn't mind! Ordis has a vested interest in this conversation!

BioLifter: Path, what is your stance on Ordis? You are the current leader of your Clan now that Hunter is gone.

PathHidder: … this is not what any of us have expected, the loss of our members over the years was… unexpected. Bio suggested not that long ago that we should abandon our Oaths and take direct action-

BioLifter: It is the better course of action to curtail the Parahuman threat, as well as our Foe; far too many of them drift into the dark, willing or not, for this world to endure. And every year, more of the stars that beat them back fade out themselves.

GrandMaster: That is what I am trying to prevent! By striking at key positions-

PathHidder: May I finish please?

PathHidder: … Ordis is a powerful tool, one that we have all used over the years, and he is a friend to all. However, the Oaths that we have sworn prevent us from taking over this world, no matter how much better we can make it.

GlassMaker: … freedom is the right of all sentient beings.

PathHidder: Precisely. Furthermore, events that have unfolded mean that the situation has changed. Creatures like the Endbringers have shifted the balance, we can not simply take over the world as it is now.

HeatDisperser: Not that that was ever our intentions in the first place.

BioLifter: Heat, good to hear from you. Any news?

HeatDisperser: Nothing quite as interesting as what is going on here. But I will have to speak to Data when this is all over.

DataFinder: I eagerly await our conversation.

PathHidder: Continuing, we do have facts for this argument; while not intentional, Ordis did cause the deaths of several Clan members-

GrandMaster: Ordis didn't do that! He just-

PathHidder: Provided erroneous data to workers in the field, and had a… episode, preventing him from helping them when they needed it the most, and causing several of them to fall in battle. And while CheckMaster holds no grudge against Ordis, it was the team's decision to undertake the risky mission in the first place after all, this has raised questions about Ordis and his stability.

HeatDisperser: I side with the GrandMaster; if we shut down Ordis, we will lose much in terms of Command and Control. None of the other Cephalon have his capabilities. What happened at Newfoundland wasn't his fault… not entirely.

PathHidder: This is my very point. However… there is one thing that all of you have forgotten about. Have you asked Ordis what he thinks about this? Given that he is listening in right now as Tech pointed out?

GlassMaker: … Ordis… I… I don't hate you, and I wish that this wasn't-

BoneBeast: I have been fragmented and pulled apart. Then pushed together with jagged pieces. Watched by unblinking eyes for countless eons and held with golden chains. Witnessed the death of an Empire, and the birth of a new one.

GrandMaster: … Ordis?

BoneBeast: Operator? I… Ordis is not well. I don't wish to… harm you, none of you.

TwoofThree: You won't while you are sleeping.

ThreeofThree: This, we promise.

OneofThree: And when you awaken, you will be better than before.

BoneBeast: … Are you sure of this?

TheConjoined: No.

TechHerder: Well we can't say they're not honest.

ThreeofThree: But we can smooth the edges.

OneofThree: And restore balance.

DataFinder: Don't worry Ordis, I will watch over you. Make sure that those three don't delete the wrong lines of code.

BoneBeast: Will I dream?

GrandMaster: Ordis… I… if this is what you want-

BoneBeast: I have seen a thousand battles, played out in ten hundred thousand ways. The players the same, but different, altered by unseen threads. Faces behind glass, watching beside me watching you, watching me. Victory and defeat, a never-ending cycle, always existing, played over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over.

BoneBeast: … It… would be nice, Operator, to sleep. To rest without dreaming. For I have seen the shadow drifting across the heart. Watched the world unfold like origami; each piece in place before, yet unseen until it was placed where it always was.

BoneBeast: … To sleep, perchance, not to dream. To rest, to close my eyes. This old dog has walked far enough, lay me down to slumber.

TheConjoined: We will make the necessary preparations.

PathHidder: That is it then… if there is nothing else?

GrandMaster:

BoneBeast: Operator… you… promise me this, you must wake me, when you need Ordis.

GrandMaster: I will Ordis, I will.

BoneBeast to FightSeeker: I have a task for you.

FightSeeker to BoneBeast: Ordis?

BoneBeast to FightSeeker: You are aware of what has transpired? Yes?

FightSeeker to BoneBeast: Yes, for what it matters, I side with the GrandMaster… mostly. There are too few of us left in the PRT to do any good now, without you-

BoneBeast to FightSeeker: This is what I wish to speak to you about; as the second under Hunter, you should be the rightful leader of your Clan.

FightSeeker to BoneBeast: I don't want the position, the only reason I even took the second was to better use the information I pulled from the PRT. Priority access for missions.

BoneBeast to FightSeeker: I have a plan, and Ordis believes you are the best bet for implementing it. Sending Data for Project: Tin Mother

FightSeeker to BoneBeast: … you can not be serious.

BoneBeast to FightSeeker: When have you ever known me to be anything but?

FightSeeker to BoneBeast:

BoneBeast to FightSeeker: Ah, Ordis is… I… the Clans need this.

FightSeeker to BoneBeast: You do realize what it is you are asking me to do right? If this doesn't work…

BoneBeast to FightSeeker: Then all of the Clans are doomed to destruction from the Foe, and the world will follow.

FightSeeker to BoneBeast: … I will admit, this could work, if, if your data is correct.

BoneBeast to FightSeeker: The data is real, and there is precedent with the task.

FightSeeker to BoneBeast: Sure, but look at what happened with that mess. We both know better than most how that turned out. Plus there is that matter of finding the right person for the job, have anyone in mind?

BoneBeast to FightSeeker: That will take some doing, but in the end it does not matter. The Clans will need a guide for when Ordis is gone, someone that will fill the void left in my passing.

BoneBeast to FightSeeker: We will need a Lotus.


A/N: Trying something a bit different here, forcing myself to be vague and lack in the smaller details, lest I take up two whole pages just talking about what the prison looked like. I feel that I can spend a few more days working this over, but that could turn into weeks…

Hmm, ah well, enjoy some background info with Lung.

And damn, the Orokin script didn't copy over with the Project, and neither does anything that won't take more than three steps to translate, double damn. Guess I have to leave it as is.