MSPA fan-fiction

[VagabondRaiser]

Part of me really wanted Equius to attack John on sight, and have John effortlessly push him down. Cue the realization that everything and everyone on Alternia is just really, really fragile.

ASDJKHSFS GET OUT OF MY HEAD.

Karkat, to his credit, didn't wince at the feeling of his shoulder trying to pop out of its' socket. John didn't seem to be even slightly bothered by the pressure.

I mean damn, I thought it wasn't -that- obviously pointed out.
(I figure Equius is still pretty dang strong, but humans aren't so much strong as they are more resilient. He could, say, hold his own arm-wrestling Equius for a bit, but would ultimately lose, just without the dismemberment that would occur with one of the other trolls.)
Figured I'd go ahead and point out where I hinted it so next chapter didn't come along and half the fora went 'HEY HE STOLE SUSHI'S IDEA LET'S LYNCH HIM!'. Not that that would happen, of course. I hope?

[Metaflare]

I just thought that John got strong enough to withstand Equius because he uses FREAKING HAMMERS as his weapon.

But your explanation works too

[Sushi Database]

oh uh dang man sorry for stepping on your reveal @_@ i didnt mean to go and do a thing like that

:bluh:

this should make for some downright awesome reactions to john from equius though

[VagabondRaiser]

I just thought that John got strong enough to withstand Equius because he uses FREAKING HAMMERS as his weapon.

But your explanation works too

Er, well, yeah. Hence the fact that he could hold his own arm-wrestling.

I kinda see John as being physically stronger than Dave due to all the hammer-swinging madness, but nowhere near as fast.
To go with the Ragnarok Online way of seeing things: John would be a Paladin (high defense, decent attack), Dave would be a Knight with Two-Hand Sword build (High attack speed when using his skills, thus resulting in a higher overall DPS), Rose would be a Wizard (Relatively self-explanatory, nukes anything coming her way before it can get to her) and Jade would be a Gunslinger (Firepower out the wazoo, decent rate of attack, but not built to take hits).
Imm-hoh, anyway.

oh uh dang man sorry for stepping on your reveal @_@ i didnt mean to go and do a thing like that

S'all good. I was kinda hamming. (I do that a lot.) When I wrote that part I was looking at it like 'Yup, everyone's gonna call me out on that. I might as well just have John suplex him across the room or something.'

One of my early ideas was for John to flip the fuck out and throw the Fear No Anvil at Equius, who auto-parries it with his face and winds up with his head stuck in the opposite wall. Seemed a little too over-the-top, though.

Blar. I should probably just stop explainin' shit and let people come to it normally and be all 'Yup, awesome, innit?' about it.

[Bardic Feline]

I was actually wondering about that bit, too, but for some reason decided not to comment on it. I just assumed that it was my weird little obsession with Equius turning out to not be as strong as the narrative would like us to believe coming to the forefront again...

Half my view of the comic has been colored by my assumption that the whole thing is being told by an unreliable...if not out and out dishonest...narrator. Like that whole thing with Vriska and her terrible luck, when it seems fairly obvious that at least half of her misfortunes are self-imposed. That sort of thing.

[Solaris]

Oh look, it's

Flavors, Part Three: Blind Accusations

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"ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE!?"

Terezi uttered a longsuffering sigh as she levered herself upright, her hand bumping a pair of glasses on the floor. She flicked them open and slid them onto her face.

"Do you have ANY FUCKING CLUE how much SHIT we are in if he's HERE and NOT IN THE GAME!?"

John rubbed at his face a few times, and blindly searched the area around him for his glasses. Fingers fumbling onto the arm of a pair, he pulled them on and opened his eyes, blinking rapidly.

"If HE'S HERE and not THERE then the GIRL DIES and then they CAN'T BEAT THE GAME, and then WE! Are COMPLETELY! FUCKED!"

The world was blood red. In focus, but very, very red. "Whoa."

"AND ANOTHER THING--" Karkat's rant came to a grinding halt as he took in the scene before him: Terezi wearing John's glasses like it was the most normal thing in the world, and John looking around while wearing Terezi's.

That was when he noticed the dried blood trail on the side of the human's head.

All color drained from Karkat's face as he quickly looked around.

Whether by sheer luck of just stupid coincidence, there didn't seem to be anyone else nearby. Bounding forward, he roughly hauled John and Terezi upright by the arms, prompting a pained utterance from the former and a swat on the head from the latter.

Ignoring Terezi's protesting, he shoved her cane into her hands, practically threw the Wrinklefucker at John, who caught it awkwardly by the head, and began to propel them down the hall. "We can't be out here," he growled inbetween their complaints.

John didn't know what to make of the situation, but he had a weird feeling he should play along with... CG? He certainly seemed angry enough for the role. He stowed the Wrinklefucker away into his Strife Specibus as he was roughly lead down a dozen similar-looking hallways, taking note of the fact that GC seemed to be wearing his glasses.

After a bit, CG stopped before a door with the Cancer zodiac sign on it, and swung the door open, practically booting the two of them into the room before swinging in and slamming the door shut behind him. Two clicks and the small room was flooded with light, causing John to squint.

Terezi frowned as she took in the scent of the room she found herself in, and turned about to face Karkat, who seemed to be pressed up against the door with his ear to it. She gave him a light jab in the head with the end of her cane, and was rewarded with an angry squawk. "What the hell was all that for?" She growled. "You could've pulled my arm off!"

CG glowered at her, and pointed accusingly at John, who to his credit was quick to avoid the finger that came half an inch from his left eye. "WHAT THE--" He stopped, took a deep, ragged breath, and started again, a good deal quieter, but no less angry.

"What the hell is he doing here? Have you told anyone other than Equius?" GC shook her head. "Seriously, Karkat? You really think I'd be so stupid? I only told Equius because I needed his help," she said flatly, folding her arms over her chest. "He was unconscious when I saw him on the monitor, and you know I can't exactly carry people. Blind, remember?"

Karkat, to his credit, managed to avoid both biting his lower lip off and screaming, although his face was turning quite a few shades of red-- or at least he would be if John wasn't still wearing those red glasses. At the moment, everything was red. He glanced over at GC. "Hey GC... did you used to have an astigmatism?"

The blind girl blinked in surprise, and nodded. "Yeah, how'd you know?" A sniff answered her question before he even opened his mouth, and her hand shot up to the square frames sitting on her face. She turned faintly bluegreen, and slid John's glasses from her face, holding them out for him. "S-sorry."

Karkat watched the exchange with a nonplussed look on his face. When the glasses had been properly returned to their respective owners, he pushed past the two of them and sat on the edge of his bed, giving John a flat stare that left him slightly unnerved.

After almost a full minute of staring at the human, Karkat closed his eyes. "Terezi, leave the room." She quirked an eyebrow, but didn't budge.

"I said go."

She tapped her way over to his computer chair and sat down, then prodded his knee. "Whatever you have to say to John, you can say to me too," she stated matter-of-factly, affecting an air of stately dignity that was almost a perfect opposite to Karkat's mounting rage. When the angry troll wheeled on her, John interjected. "Whatever it is, she can stay."

Rather than deflate Karkat's anger, it just served as an effective auto-parry. "YOU DON'T GET A SAY IN THIS GODDAMMIT!" He whipped his head back to Terezi and jabbed a finger at the door. "OUT!"

She didn't budge, but rather affixed him with a blank, angry stare. "It's about his blood, isn't it?" When Karkat deflated, she allowed herself a malicious grin. "What, you don't remember what happened the other day? I know aaaall about your little blood secret. No big deal, really." She licked her lips and uttered that damned creepy little giggle-laugh.

John went from 'ready to take an angry Karkat' to 'what the hell is going on' in half a 'H3H3', and it showed on his face. At the scent of confusion emanating from the lime blur, she nodded toward him.

"Troll society is based on a hierarchy of hemochromes," She explained. "Purple colors on top, blue colors below that, green colors after that, and red colors are on the bottom. I, for instance, am considered a low-level blueblood, or a high-level greenblood, depending on who you ask."

John nodded, absently touching two fingers to the dried blood on the side of his head. Red blood meant that by the troll hierarchy, he must be at the very bottom. He glanced over at Karkat. "So what did she mean by 'blood secret'?" He asked.

Karkat gave a resigned sigh, and lowered his head, trying to screw up the courage to explain it. Even now, with the entire matter of blood hierarchy out the window due to the fact that there were only twelve trolls left, he still hated talking about it.

Luckily for him, he didn't have a chance to.

Before he could say anything, the door came off its' hinges. John had the Fear No Anvil out before anyone could blink, least of all the tall troll standing in the doorway holding the door by the handle like it were paper. He relaxed when he realized it was the one who had left Terezi in the hallway earlier.

"So this is the human," Equius said, setting the dislodged door aside and stepping into the room, oblivious to Karkat's screamed dismay at his door being relocated. The musclebound troll snorted at the human in a manner rather like that of an angry horse, then turned his attention to Karkat.

He frowned, and raised an eyebrow. John resisted the urge to ask him if he was the Troll Dwayne Johnson, but only just.

With the utmost of care, he nudged the human back toward the bed, causing John to stumble and sit down rather hard next to Karkat. Setting his hands on the shoulders of both the troll and human, he lowered his eyes to level with them, an unreadable expression on his face.

Karkat, to his credit, didn't wince at the feeling of his shoulder trying to pop out of its' socket. John didn't seem to be even slightly bothered by the pressure.

Terezi cleared her throat to break the silence.

"...Vantas, why did you have your hair cut to resemble the human's?"

John and Karkat looked at each other in surprise.

Terezi just started laughing.

WHAT IS THIS I DON'T EVEN

I love you

[VagabondRaiser]

I love you

I know.
*gets lowered into the carbonite chamber*
[/nerd]

I was actually wondering about that bit, too, but for some reason decided not to comment on it. I just assumed that it was my weird little obsession with Equius turning out to not be as strong as the narrative would like us to believe coming to the forefront again...

Half my view of the comic has been colored by my assumption that the whole thing is being told by an unreliable...if not out and out dishonest...narrator. Like that whole thing with Vriska and her terrible luck, when it seems fairly obvious that at least half of her misfortunes are self-imposed. That sort of thing.

I swear, it's like half of us are all Past-Future-Past repliscimilies or something.

Either that or I'm some sort of freaking psychic and can't seem to figure out how to get my powers to work so I can cheat at pokersave mankind. Yeah. *shifty-eyes*

For what it's worth:

Storming through the corridors, he angrily brushed Gamzee aside ("What the fuck's up, my motherfuck-AGH!"*thunk*) and took a shortcut through the computer room. He was a troll on a mission, and boy was he pissed. Ducking one of Tavros' horns as the Taurus came around a corner (trailed by a rather frazzled-looking Vriska, although Karkat wouldn't register that thought until later) he swung into one of the lesser-used hallways of the lab.

was the original version of that segment. Figured I'd do a followup to 'Losing Control' with a slightly happier ending, just for the sake of a happier ending. Also so I could take a stab at writing Tavros when he's not being all deep an' creepy-serious. Still might, I dunno.

As for Equius auto-parrying the hammer with his face, it woulda gone something like this:

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Karkat gave a resigned sigh, and lowered his head, trying to screw up the courage to explain it. Even now, with the entire matter of blood hierarchy out the window due to the fact that there were only twelve trolls left, he still hated talking about it.

Luckily for him, he didn't have a chance to.

Before he could say anything, the door came off its' hinges. Equius had barely a second to remember that the door to Karkat's room opened in the other direction before a red square object connected with his face with severe force, launching him backwards into the hall; his head struck the opposite wall hard enough to put a sizable dent in it.

A shrill yelp from the other side indicated that Sollux had been sitting against the wall reading a book, and now had a massive headache for his troubles.

Karkat stared, wide-eyed, first at the empty doorway, then at John, standing at the ready with the Wrinklefucker in hand, having already thrown the Fear No Anvil like a tomahawk.

"Holy shit."

[Metaflare]

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Karkat gave a resigned sigh, and lowered his head, trying to screw up the courage to explain it. Even now, with the entire matter of blood hierarchy out the window due to the fact that there were only twelve trolls left, he still hated talking about it.

Luckily for him, he didn't have a chance to.

Before he could say anything, the door came off its' hinges. Equius had barely a second to remember that the door to Karkat's room opened in the other direction before a red square object connected with his face with severe force, launching him backwards into the hall; his head struck the opposite wall hard enough to put a sizable dent in it.

A shrill yelp from the other side indicated that Sollux had been sitting against the wall reading a book, and now had a massive headache for his troubles.

Karkat stared, wide-eyed, first at the empty doorway, then at John, standing at the ready with the Wrinklefucker in hand, having already thrown the Fear No Anvil like a tomahawk.

"Holy shit."

Although this is absolutely hilarious, I agree that the current version fits better. After all, I don't think John is instictively hammer-crazy.

[VagabondRaiser]

Exactly.

For the sake of convention, we'll call those little bits 'deleted scenes'.

I'ma shut up now, 'cause I really should go do the dishes. And then write the next part of Impermanence. And maybe more Flavors. And and and and.
Andrew Hussie. BLAR BLAR BAD JOKE

[crash826]

VagabondRaiser! I have a question.
Will you be continuing "the path was closed?"
Just curious.

[VagabondRaiser]

VagabondRaiser! I have a question.
Will you be continuing "the path was closed?"
Just curious.

...color me confused. I don't remember writing anything by that title.

Refresh my memory? As often as I've left stories unfinished in the past, I'd hate for it to be simply because I forgot it existed.

Edit: Aha! You're thinking of Sarasvati's story, actually. I didn't write that, lordie no. I could hope to be that good. (Plus I've never played any of the Persona games.)

Man, what's up with everyone mistaking other more awesome works for my own?

[crash826]

...color me confused. I don't remember writing anything by that title.

Refresh my memory? As often as I've left stories unfinished in the past, I'd hate for it to be simply because I forgot it existed.

Edit: Aha! You're thinking of Sarasvati's story, actually. I didn't write that, lordie no. I could hope to be that good. (Plus I've never played any of the Persona games.)

Man, what's up with everyone mistaking other more awesome works for my own?

GAH CONFUSION
If saras reads this, I apologize. I was confused.
That said, may I redirect the question to you?

[sarasvati]

haha, no need to apologize!

Yes, I've got the next chapter in the works, it'll have like a plot and characters and everything. I'm not sure how long the whole thing will be but it kind of went out of control so...long. Long.

[VagabondRaiser]

haha, no need to apologize!

Yes, I've got the next chapter in the works, it'll have like a plot and characters and everything. I'm not sure how long the whole thing will be but it kind of went out of control so...long. Long.

Long is good! Long means we get to read more of your awesome writing.

Speaking of writing, stay t00ned, folks! The next chapter of Impermanence is coming up soon: 'Noirallegiance'. (I'll give you three guesses as to what AU they're in this time, and the first two don't count.)

[Metaflare]

haha, no need to apologize!

Yes, I've got the next chapter in the works, it'll have like a plot and characters and everything. I'm not sure how long the whole thing will be but it kind of went out of control so...long. Long.

I like it long!

I mean chapters. Long chapters.

I'm not gay

[VagabondRaiser]

Long to read, hard to write, stuff like this keeps us up at night!
Faaaaaaaan-FICTIOOOOOOOON~!
*jazzhands*

...I'll sit down now.

[Roflstilzken]

Long to read, hard to write, stuff like this keeps us up at night!
Faaaaaaaan-FICTIOOOOOOOON~!
*jazzhands*

...I'll sit down now.

Stand back up, I demand an encore!!

Also, so true~

[VagabondRaiser]

Stand back up, I demand an encore!!

Also, so true~

Encore?

OK then.

The Impermanence of Wishes: What Could Have Been
Chapter 6:
Noirallegiance

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The night was dark and cold, as nights in the city often were. Illuminated by the harsh bulbs of street lamps, a single figure strode alone on the sidewalk, hands in the hip-pockets of a pair of impeccably pressed pinstripe slacks, a deep blue pinstriped longcoat draped loosely on the shoulders and waving lightly in the night air, like the long black hair that flowed down the back.

Steel blue eyes calmly surveyed the world behind round-rimmed glasses beneath a broad-brimmed men's blue fedora, pinstriped to match the rest of the ensemble. A pale blue silk shirt underneath a two-button vest (pinstriped like the rest) completed the look. For all the world, she looked like a million dollars. Judging by the grin-- slightly bucktoothed, a hint of imperfection in that face of beauty that served only to heighten its' impact-- she knew just as well as he did.

He, for lack of a better turn of phrase, resembled a creamsicle that sprouted legs, put on a tie, and told the world where to stick it. An orange tuxedo, garishly bright against the hood of the black Cadillac he leaned against, with matching tangerine slacks and a pair of wingtipped black shoes complementing his flaming orange hair. The emerald-green batwing bowtie matched his angry eyes, ordinarily hidden behind sunglasses as black as the night. On anyone else it would've been a garish, jarring look; on him, it seemed strangely fitting.

She swallowed a laugh when he looked up from the small notebook he was writing in, and he raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips twitching imperceptively, causing the toothpick in his mouth to bob once. It was enough for her, though. She knew he was glad she had come.

Stopping beside the back wheel of the car, she looked around at the empty street, then back to her brightly-dressed companion. "Th'othahs ain't heah yet?" Her accent was thick; city life had changed her greatly in the past five years. He uttered a derisive snort and pushed off of the hood of the car, tucking the notepad into his pocket.

"Dunno what's got John held up, but I know Rose's off being a flighty broad again. O'course knowin' them, that's probably why he's late too." A southerner's accent, with the beginnings of a Brooklyner's lilt; the city affected even him. He jostled the toothpick from the left side of his mouth to the right, then nodded toward her. "You sure you wanna get that pretty getup dirty?"

She shrugged, giving the hem of her longcoat a light tug; a pair of short black silk gloves adorned her hands. Tight, and thin; perfect for delicate work. "If weah gonna be in tha papahs, I might as well look good, yeah?" She gestured to him with one hand, the other returning to its' pocket. "Wha'bout you? Y'look like a goldfish what swallowed a bellhop."

That got a smirk out of him, but little else. "If weah gonna be in tha papahs," He mocked, and reached in through the open window of the car. "Figured in this day and age, if there's some green crew runnin' round, and some black crew runnin' round, I might as well stand out a little, yeah?" She wrinkled her nose at his imitation, and frowned.

From the car, he withdrew a long, thin black case. To any casual onlooker, it would've been nothing more than an instrument case; he looked for all the world like he was just getting ready to go play a bass clarinet in some speakeasy. By the time he looked up from the act, her left hand was no longer in her pocket, but holding the grip of a sawed off Browning Automatic, a makeshift sling hanging from her left shoulder under her coat.

As one, they glanced up at the sign on the jewelry store his car was parked in front of. There was no hiding what they were here to do anymore.

They remained still for a few minutes, both watching each other, both knowing the question on the other's mind. Both waited for the other to speak.

"Dave--"
"Jade--"

They both clammed up immediately.

"You go foist."
"You go first."

A beat passed, then another. She cracked first, a grin; then he smirked, she uttered a titter, and they were both laughing into the night air. She slung the gun back up under her coat and walked up to him, pulling a small green carnation from the inner pocket of her coat. "Ya wanna look respectable, ya gotta complete tha look," She said softly as she tucked it into his left lapel buttonhole and gave it a light pat, smiling up at him. "Theah. Y'gotta boutonniere all hansome like."

When she attempted to step away, Dave's free hand caught her elbow, and she froze, turning her eyes up to his. Mere inches apart, he held her gaze levelly. "Jade... s'yer last chance to back out," he whispered. "John an' Rose knew it was dangerous. They're stayin' away 'cause they know somethin's gonna go wrong. I don' wanna--"

She jerked her arm away, her hand whipping back up and slapping him hard across the face. Even behind the silk glove, it stung like a sonofabitch, and she knew it, by the shellshocked stare he gave her in return.

"I tol' ya a dozen times befoah, and Imma tell ya every time ya says it, Imma do dis witcha whethah ya like it ah not!" She hissed.

"Ya already left us in tha lurch five yeahs ago! Yah show up outta tha blue an' expect us ta fahget what happened in Kansas, like it was no big deal thatcha went an' tried ta knock ovah that speakeasy widdout us sos we don' get hurt an--" she began to choke up, fighting back tears, and he pulled her into an awkward, one-armed hug. "I'm nah gonna lose you again, dammit," she sobbed, clutching at his tuxedo.

They remained like that for a few minutes, while she took deep breaths and calmed herself; presently, she lifted her face from his chest, and patted at his tux. "I done wrinkled ya up," she mumbled, and looked up at him, red-eyed. He averted his own gaze, but not before she caught sight of his own tears, and she smiled, but said nothing.

Somewhere else in the town, a clock tower tolled. One... two... three.

"Three in the mornin'," Dave said, rubbing at his eyes with his sleeve. "Time ta jam, yeah?" Jade quipped, and elbowed him lightly. He offered her his arm, and she took it, hooking her hand gently into the crook of his elbow. "Whatevah happens, I'm witcha," She whispered.

As one, they walked up the steps to Serket's Jewelry.

This one got overly description-y on me.

Writing out Jade's dialogue was a pain, if only because I kept having to go back and re-re-re-fix some of it (remembering what words would end with 'a' and what ones end with 'ah', for instance-- if it ends with an R, it's an 'ah', but if it's an 'ooh' sounding word, it's just an 'a', etc)

Stay tuned for Part Two, coming soon to a Fanfiction Thread near you! (And expect some actual factual action this time as I try my hand at an honest-to-goodness car chase scene!)

(Funfact: This fic was written while listening to 'Three in the Morning' from Drawing Dead on perma-repeat.)

[Graven_Image]

Nice.

The great FICTION SPIRITS demand MOAR.

[Solaris]

Encore?

OK then.

The Impermanence of Wishes: What Could Have Been
Chapter 6:
Noirallegiance

show spoiler

hide spoiler

The night was dark and cold, as nights in the city often were. Illuminated by the harsh bulbs of street lamps, a single figure strode alone on the sidewalk, hands in the hip-pockets of a pair of impeccably pressed pinstripe slacks, a deep blue pinstriped longcoat draped loosely on the shoulders and waving lightly in the night air, like the long black hair that flowed down the back.

Steel blue eyes calmly surveyed the world behind round-rimmed glasses beneath a broad-brimmed men's blue fedora, pinstriped to match the rest of the ensemble. A pale blue silk shirt underneath a two-button vest (pinstriped like the rest) completed the look. For all the world, she looked like a million dollars. Judging by the grin-- slightly bucktoothed, a hint of imperfection in that face of beauty that served only to heighten its' impact-- she knew just as well as he did.

He, for lack of a better turn of phrase, resembled a creamsicle that sprouted legs, put on a tie, and told the world where to stick it. An orange tuxedo, garishly bright against the hood of the black Cadillac he leaned against, with matching tangerine slacks and a pair of wingtipped black shoes complementing his flaming orange hair. The emerald-green batwing bowtie matched his angry eyes, ordinarily hidden behind sunglasses as black as the night. On anyone else it would've been a garish, jarring look; on him, it seemed strangely fitting.

She swallowed a laugh when he looked up from the small notebook he was writing in, and he raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips twitching imperceptively, causing the toothpick in his mouth to bob once. It was enough for her, though. She knew he was glad she had come.

Stopping beside the back wheel of the car, she looked around at the empty street, then back to her brightly-dressed companion. "Th'othahs ain't heah yet?" Her accent was thick; city life had changed her greatly in the past five years. He uttered a derisive snort and pushed off of the hood of the car, tucking the notepad into his pocket.

"Dunno what's got John held up, but I know Rose's off being a flighty broad again. O'course knowin' them, that's probably why he's late too." A southerner's accent, with the beginnings of a Brooklyner's lilt; the city affected even him. He jostled the toothpick from the left side of his mouth to the right, then nodded toward her. "You sure you wanna get that pretty getup dirty?"

She shrugged, giving the hem of her longcoat a light tug; a pair of short black silk gloves adorned her hands. Tight, and thin; perfect for delicate work. "If weah gonna be in tha papahs, I might as well look good, yeah?" She gestured to him with one hand, the other returning to its' pocket. "Wha'bout you? Y'look like a goldfish what swallowed a bellhop."

That got a smirk out of him, but little else. "If weah gonna be in tha papahs," He mocked, and reached in through the open window of the car. "Figured in this day and age, if there's some green crew runnin' round, and some black crew runnin' round, I might as well stand out a little, yeah?" She wrinkled her nose at his imitation, and frowned.

From the car, he withdrew a long, thin black case. To any casual onlooker, it would've been nothing more than an instrument case; he looked for all the world like he was just getting ready to go play a bass clarinet in some speakeasy. By the time he looked up from the act, her left hand was no longer in her pocket, but holding the grip of a sawed off Browning Automatic, a makeshift sling hanging from her left shoulder under her coat.

As one, they glanced up at the sign on the jewelry store his car was parked in front of. There was no hiding what they were here to do anymore.

They remained still for a few minutes, both watching each other, both knowing the question on the other's mind. Both waited for the other to speak.

"Dave--"
"Jade--"

They both clammed up immediately.

"You go foist."
"You go first."

A beat passed, then another. She cracked first, a grin; then he smirked, she uttered a titter, and they were both laughing into the night air. She slung the gun back up under her coat and walked up to him, pulling a small green carnation from the inner pocket of her coat. "Ya wanna look respectable, ya gotta complete tha look," She said softly as she tucked it into his left lapel buttonhole and gave it a light pat, smiling up at him. "Theah. Y'gotta boutonniere all hansome like."

When she attempted to step away, Dave's free hand caught her elbow, and she froze, turning her eyes up to his. Mere inches apart, he held her gaze levelly. "Jade... s'yer last chance to back out," he whispered. "John an' Rose knew it was dangerous. They're stayin' away 'cause they know somethin's gonna go wrong. I don' wanna--"

She jerked her arm away, her hand whipping back up and slapping him hard across the face. Even behind the silk glove, it stung like a sonofabitch, and she knew it, by the shellshocked stare he gave her in return.

"I tol' ya a dozen times befoah, and Imma tell ya every time ya says it, Imma do dis witcha whethah ya like it ah not!" She hissed.

"Ya already left us in tha lurch five yeahs ago! Yah show up outta tha blue an' expect us ta fahget what happened in Kansas, like it was no big deal thatcha went an' tried ta knock ovah that speakeasy widdout us sos we don' get hurt an--" she began to choke up, fighting back tears, and he pulled her into an awkward, one-armed hug. "I'm nah gonna lose you again, dammit," she sobbed, clutching at his tuxedo.

They remained like that for a few minutes, while she took deep breaths and calmed herself; presently, she lifted her face from his chest, and patted at his tux. "I done wrinkled ya up," she mumbled, and looked up at him, red-eyed. He averted his own gaze, but not before she caught sight of his own tears, and she smiled, but said nothing.

Somewhere else in the town, a clock tower tolled. One... two... three.

"Three in the mornin'," Dave said, rubbing at his eyes with his sleeve. "Time ta jam, yeah?" Jade quipped, and elbowed him lightly. He offered her his arm, and she took it, hooking her hand gently into the crook of his elbow. "Whatevah happens, I'm witcha," She whispered.

As one, they walked up the steps to Serket's Jewelry.

This one got overly description-y on me.

Writing out Jade's dialogue was a pain, if only because I kept having to go back and re-re-re-fix some of it (remembering what words would end with 'a' and what ones end with 'ah', for instance-- if it ends with an R, it's an 'ah', but if it's an 'ooh' sounding word, it's just an 'a', etc)

Stay tuned for Part Two, coming soon to a Fanfiction Thread near you! (And expect some actual factual action this time as I try my hand at an honest-to-goodness car chase scene!)

(Funfact: This fic was written while listening to 'Three in the Morning' from Drawing Dead on perma-repeat.)

YEEEEEEEEEEEEES

[Metaflare]

Oh man Jade/Dave=Bonny/Clyde (I think)? Wooooo!

[Graven_Image]

HouseBand, Part Two

Hey, I'm really on the ball with this.

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>CALM DOWN

You stop panicking long enough to realize that you’re controlling the cursor currently hovering above your head. You also notice that you can see your computer screen from the game’s viewpoint, which shows an even small version of your screen, and so forth...

But the image’s Fractal Prospectus remains near 0%, so you’re not too worried.

>EXAMINE GAME CONTROLS

There are currently three available options: BUILD, DEPLOY, and RELOCATE.

>RELOCATE

The cursor reshapes itself into a claw-like configuration. Apparently, this is designed to move objects in the house. The urge to grab the TOILET out of the MASTER BATHROOM overtakes you.

>RESIST URGE TO GRAB TOILET

You try. You try very hard. But you just can’t help it. The TOILET is now uprooted from your parents’ bathroom.

>PUT IT BACK

You attempt to fit the TOILET back in the HOLE that was formed from its removal. There are still some sizable gaps left.

>USE BUILD OPTION TO REPAIR FLOOR

You select the BUILD OPTION. Unfortunately, each gap left will require a single BUILD GRIST to fill. Moving the TOILET greatly lowered your available GRIST. You deplete what little you have left fixing the biggest and most noticeable ones.

The TOILET is now BACK IN PLACE and MOSTLY REPAIRED. You have ZERO BUILD GRIST remaining. The BUILD and RELOCATE options are now disabled.

Your friends are having a grand old laugh at this, by the way.

>EXAMINE DEPLOY OPTION

You select the DEPLOY option. Your cursor inverts itself, and a menu drops down on your screen, revealing SEVERAL LARGE DEVICES and other BITS AND BOBS seemingly required to play Sburb.

The only DEVICES available for no grist are the ALCHEMITER, the QUADRUXTRUDER, and the TOTEM LATHE. In the BITS AND BOBS section, there are four CARDS, each with a set of punch holes and an image of a PLAYING CARD SUIT.

You have NO IDEA what these things are for.

>DEPLOY QUADRUXTRUDER

You set the sizable device in the center of your room. Your friends are all thankfully away from where it settles down.

>EXAMINE QUADRUXTRUDER

It appears to serve some purpose, though you can’t imagine what that purpose is. It has a square base, with four tubes extending from it and a small LED readout on the side, currently blank. Each tube has a small wheel on the side, and is capped. On each cap is another CARD SUIT imprinted on the top.

>DEPLOY LATHE

You set the lathe down on the unoccupied side of your room. This obscures the few POSTERS you ever put up, but hey. It’s not like these machines will be here forever, right?

>EXAMINE LATHE

It looks like a giant sewing machine, to be honest. The part that would normally hold the needle is empty, and instead of THAT FLAT PART WHERE YOU PUT THE FABRIC, there’s just a mechanism for holding a cylindrical object.

You don’t really get the purpose of this one, either.

>DEPLOY ALCHEMITER

You set the large SOMETHING-DOING ARRAY in your house’s main foyer. That’s the only place it’ll fit. You certainly weren’t going to put it outside.

>EXAMINE ALCHEMTER

Well, you would, but Jim is yelling at you. He’s saying something about a walkthrough. You should really stop EXAMINING THINGS long enough to listen.

>LISTEN TO JIM

“...says here that you ‘need to get rid of the cap on the Cruxtruder’. It devolves into gibberish after that, something about sprites and prototypes.”

>CRUXTRUDER?

I’m just as confused as you. All you have here is a QUADRUXTR- ohhh.

>EXAMINE CAPS ON QUADRUXTRUDER

You clamber up to the top of the machine. The four caps each have a suit imprinted on them. There is a DIAMOND CAP, a HEART CAP, a CLUB CAP, and a SPADE CAP.

>EXAMINE STRIFE SPECIBUS

You have GUITARKIND and 2PISTOLKIND.

>SHOOT DIAMOND CAP OFF

After clearing your friends out of the room, you take aim at the DIAMOND CAP. The bullets ricochet around the room, too low-caliber to punch through the walls. They’re eventually stopped by the POSTERS behind the TOTEM LATHE.

Meh. You didn’t like those anyway.

>USE GUITAR ON DIAMOND CAP

After clearing your friends out of the hallway and back into the room to watch, you swing your GUITAR in a mighty arc and bring it down square on the side of the SPADE CAP.

Your GUITAR is now destroyed.

>EXAMINE REMAINS OF GUITAR

It’s... pretty bad. You have no idea what you’re supposed to JAM on now. It’s certainly not going to help you out in STRIFE any more.

You CAPTCHALOGUE the pieces, because hey. They may come in handy somewhere.

>EXAMINE QUADRUXTRUDER

One cap is missing. A grey DIAMOND is now visible on the side of the QUADRUXTRUDER TUBE. The small LED readout on the base has activated, currently reading “9:39” and counting down. A cylindrical piece of GREY CRYSTAL popped out when you gave the cap what-for, along with a hovering wispy thing.

>FLIP OUT

Already taken care of. We’re all SANE AND RATIONAL PEOPLE, right?

>STOP FLIPPING OUT

Done.

>EXAMINE WISPY THING

The main body appears to be nothing but an insubstantial spirographic design. It’s glowing with an UNEARTHLY GREYISH MIASMA. It seems to be attempting communication, but you don’t have the foggiest idea what it could be saying.

>CONSULT WALKTHROUGH

You would, but this thing’s kind of creeping you out. It’s like a T-Rex; if you don’t move, it can’t see you. Currently, Jim is the only one in position to get to the computer.

>BE JIM

You are now Jim for three moves.

>CONSULT WALKTHROUGH

It says this thing is called a KERNELSPRITE. To proceed through Sburb, every player will have to find a SPRITE and “PROTOTYPE” it. Whatever that means.

>READ UP ON SPRITES

From what you can pry out of the prose-filled writing style, whatever you prototype the SPRITES with should ideally be meaningful to whoever prototypes them.

You’re still not sure what this mysterious process involves.

>BE JIM SOME MORE

Sure. I’ll get right on it once oh crap what was that.

You are now Charlie. You’ve just heard a sonic boom from outside your window. The KERNELSPRITE is visibly agitated. You could probably slip by it without being atomized, or whatever happens to people when it gets mad.

>[S] LOOK OUT WINDOW

You wrestle with the lock and finally pry it open. The dry autumn air gusts in through the aperture. It plays a hollow note, like a 5-year-old discovering that trick with plastic bottles for the first time.

The roar of the sonic boom has faded to a dull growl. It’s the growl man-made machines emit while they break free of the planet’s gravity well. In the sky is a bright crimson streak, playing a vivid contrast against the cerulean twilight.

It looks like a meteorite.

And it’s headed straight for you.

You FLIP OUT again.

Next Chapter: SECONDS IN THE FUTURE, BUT NOT MANY...

[VagabondRaiser]

Badabam!

The Impermanence of Wishes:
Noirallegience, Part 2

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It should've been fine.

Her handiwork was masterful as always; the lock posed no problem to her talented fingers. The alarm was of the highest security, but even it was fallible, and a single well-thrown knife from Dave's sleeve severed the electrical wires that powered it, leaving the sizable jewelry store as silent as the rest of the night.

They knew there would still be a silent alarm; they didn't have the time to bandy about and hand-pick the jewelry. Dave withdrew a large cloth bag from his case and tossed it to Jade as she unhooked the velvet rope separating the sales floor from the back room.

Setting the case down, he drew his own bag from it and clipped it shut, then draped the bag over a glass case; resting his elbow on it, he took a deep breath, folded his fingers together, and slammed his elbow into the glass. Not one to waste time, he quickly pulled the sack over to the next glass case and repeated the act.

While he was working his way through the display cases, Jade was dumping the contents of the backroom's safety deposit (a key-and-combination lock? No challenge) into her bag. Picking up a jeweler's monocle, she pocketted it, and began to pull numerous small drawers full of uncut stones from their shelving, dumping each drawer in and stacking them neatly on the table.

By the time she came out of the back room, Dave had systematically busted every sales case in the joint, and using a dust pan from behind the counter, was scooping the contents of them into his bag, which was already almost half full. Jade quickly joined in using a second dust pan from the back room.

They had the entire store cleaned out in a matter of seven minutes. That should've been more than enough time. They even had a moment to snap a photo with a timed box camera Jade found in the back and left sitting in the center display case: Jade with her elbow propped on Dave's shoulder, her hat cocked at an angle, Dave's arm hooked lightly around her waist, the both of them holding a large bag full of swag and wearing cocky grins.

"What brought on the camera idea?" Dave asked, holding the door open for Jade. She shrugged, hoisting her bag over her shoulder.

"Saw it back theah, figyahd we could do da papahs a service an' let 'em see what we look like, yeah?" She strode calmly out the door, followed shortly when Dave snatched up his case and stepped out. As a simple service, Jade even took a moment to re-latch the lock while he tossed the bags into the back seat of his Cadillac.

When they heard the sirens, it was already too late.

Jade's head snapped up, and Dave almost gave himself whiplash turning to face the flashing red lights coming up the street. Before either of them had a chance to react, a gunshot slugged Dave in the left shoulder, and he spun, dropping to one knee.

Jade's reaction was immediate. Her coat fell from her shoulders to reveal a low-slung bandolier of clips as she whipped up her Browning with one hand and squeezed off a dozen rounds in the direction of the cop cars, sprinting toward Dave, who was already up and lurching into the Caddy.

Hauling himself across the front seat, he cranked the engine as Jade leapt into the passenger side door and slammed it shut, her hat tumbling into the back seat from her momentum. "Go! GO!" She shouted, but he was already flooring it, the tires barking once, briefly, as the car lurched into motion. Gunfire peppered the back of the car, but he'd had it built for that kind of abuse.

Jade blind-fired a few rounds out of the passenger window, swore as the gun chattered at the empty clip, and dropped the clip, fumbling for a fresh one. "That gun-- is that an A1 or an A2?" Dave asked. "Also hang on, hard left!"

Jade ducked her head back into the car as he whipped the wheel aside, and very nearly went flying back out, grabbing the back of the seat for support. "A2 standahd wit da barrel sawed off, why?" He smiled, although it was almost more of a grimace. "Check unner the seat," he growled, yanking the car's parking break as they whipped around another curve far too quickly.

Confused, Jade dug under the seat, and pulled two massive fourty round clips up. Gawking at them, she looked up at Dave, who glanced at her, winked, and jerked the shifter. "Figured you wouldn't let me talk you out of this, so I thought I'd getcha a present!"

She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and slammed one of the clips home, working the breach and scooting back over to the passenger door. "Hang on tight, they're--"

The gun chugged like a steam engine, two, three, four times, and she almost dropped it from the kick. "Armor piercing!" She laughed as one of the unfortunate cop cars wheeled sideways, the engine destroyed from the massive shells.

As the car leapt over a low bridge, Jade leveled her barrel at the base of a power pole, and squeezed off two shots; they chewed through the wood like paper, and she flicked her sights to the power pole across the road from it, popping off two more shots. Unable to hold themselves up, they dropped across the road, blocking the police cars.

With a triumphant whoop, she sat back down in the car and clicked the safety on, resting the gun across her knees. "See? That wadn't so bad, was it?" She asked as the car slowed, then turned down a dark alley. He shrugged his good shoulder, gritting his teeth.

"Not bad at all, darlin'," He said shortly as the car coasted to a stop. Jade glanced over at him with a confused look. "What're we doin' here?"

The floodlights that lit them up nearly blinded her. She lifted one hand to shield her eyes, the other going for her gun, but it was already gone, and the barrel of a revolver was resting against her temple. She slowly raised her hands, hissing out an epithet.

"Jade Harley! Step out of the car! We have you surrounded!" An officious voice barked.

"Sorry for this, love," Dave muttered. "The feds caught me when I hit the speakeasy... they offered me a deal that was too good to pass up." She glanced over to see him draw an FBI badge from his coat pocket. Tears welled up in her eyes.

"Yah... ya din't..." She whispered. He shook his head as someone opened the passenger door and hauled her roughly out of the seat.

"I did what I had to do."

A tall, broad-shouldered cop handcuffed her and lead her to one of the FBI cars as he got out and pulled his case from the back of his car. Two more picked up the sacks of contraband, taking them to the same car that she had been brought to, and were tossed into the trunk.

Walking calmly up to the car, he stopped to turn a flat glare at the police chief, who waved a bullhorn at him curtly. "You too, Strider. With you in the car she won't try anything." He nodded toward the case in his hand. "What'cha got there?"

Dave frowned at the man. "Pray ya never find out." He tossed the case into the trunk of the car and slammed it shut, opening the other back door and sliding in next to Jade. She wasn't looking at him, but was rather staring at the seat, weeping openly.

Steel-faced, he nodded to the driver as the broad-shouldered cop got into the front seat, and the car pulled away.

---

They hadn't been driving for too long before she started to realize something wasn't quite right. Lifting her head, she looked around, and stifled a gasp of surprise; they weren't in the city any more. She turned a confused look to Dave, who gave her a wry smile and reached over, sticking a key into the lock of her handcuffs.

"I did what I had to do."

As the cuffs fell from her wrists, she noticed for the first time the blonde female cop driving the car. A pair of opalescent violet eyes smiled back at her through the rear-view mirror as the broad-shouldered fellow turned in his seat and removed his hat, revealing a touseled shock of black hair.

"By tha time they figyah us out, we'll be loooong gone," John chuckled, and set his hat on Jade's head. Tears welled in her eyes, but for a different reason altogether.

"Buncha useless mooks," She laughed.

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If you figured the ending out early, give yourself a cookie.
If you didn't, give yourself a cookie anyway. You're an awesome person.

Fanfiction: Forcing writers to look up everything from gangster-era vehicles to the proper placement of a boutonniere to Browning Automatic clip size to proper bow-tie etiquette! All in the name of fandom!

And yeah, I just went Lupin III all up in this bitch.

[Graven_Image]

So now, the next person to post will have three awesome stories to review!

Well, one awesome one and two that are mine, anyway.

HouseBand, Part 3

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>JUDGE TIME UNIL METEOR IMPACT

Since Charlie is still FLIPPING OUT, we’ll let Zoe take over for now.

You can’t rightly see through the window past the gibbering, panicky mess that was once Charlie. So, no luck there. The timer on the QUADRUXTRUDER emits a beep. The countdown has reached “9:00”. You guess that’s how long you have. I mean, what else is there to go on?

You almost FLIP OUT, but think better of it. You only have nine minutes until you’re turned into a crater. FLIPPING OUT is not the best course of action here.

>EXAMINE GREY CYLINDER

You pick up the cylinder, surprised at its heft. It appears to be formed out of some sort of crystal. There is a DIAMOND etched into one of the bases.

>CAPTCHALOGUE CYLINDER

You CAPTCHALOGUE the cylinder in your 7-card SYLLADEX. You use the QUEUESTACK fetch modus, which will thankfully not present a problem so long as you don’t need to pick up anything else.

>EXAMINE SERVER COMPUTER

All available devices have been deployed. There are only four BITS AND/OR BOBS left that you can deploy, those being the four CARDS: DIAMOND, SPADE, CLUB, and HEART.

>DEPLOY CARDS

All four cards are now stacked neatly on the computer desk beside you.

>CAPTCHALOGUE CARDS

You do so. The cards take up four spaces in your SYLLADEX...

...And bury the CYLINDER in the UNREACHABLE DEPTHS of your inventory.

Argh.

>GO DOWNSTAIRS

You descend the stairs, leaving Sam and Jim to try and calm Charlie down.

You are now in Charlie’s MAIN FOYER. To your left is the KITCHEN. To your right is the MASTER BEDROOM, blocked off by the ALCHEMITER. Near the FRONT DOOR is a cabinet, filled with those adorable glass dragons that CHARLIE’S MOM collects.

Or at least, you think they’re adorable. You’re not sure of anyone else’s opinion.

>EXAMINE ALCHEMITER

The ALCHEMITER is a large squarish device, with a triangular design on its base. On one side of it is a round PEDESTAL, presumably meant for these cylindrical objects. Beside the pedestal is a ROBOTIC ARM that DOESN’T SEEM TO DO ANYTHING.

>PLACE CYLINDER ON PEDESTAL

It’s buried, remember? You need to find a way to push it to either the FIRST or LAST card of your SYLLADEX in order to retrieve it.

>PUT DOWN CARDS

Put them... down? On the ground? You’re joking, right?

>NO

That wasn’t a command.

>JUST PUT THE CARDS DOWN.

No. You swore to use the QUEUESTACK honorably, even unto death. That was the only way you could get the 50% discount at Greg’s Used Sylladexes.

Oh, and you’ve wasted 30 seconds debating all this with yourself since you came downstairs. Yours is truly the disciplined mind.

>OPEN CABINET

You open the cabinet next to the door. Inside are various GLASS DRAGONS of differing colors.

>CAPTCHALOGUE TWO DRAGONS

You CAPTCHALOGUE the statues, thereby pushing the CYLINDER to the end of your sylladex. VICTORY IS YOURS.

>PLACE CYLINDER ON PEDESTAL

You do so. The ROBOTIC ARM springs to life, scanning the cylinder with a small laser.

A BUTTON on the ALCHEMITER’S console lights up.

>PRESS BUTTON

The ALCHEMITER emits a loud buzzer. Apparently, you lack the required resources to do whatever this contraption was going to do.

You re-captchalogue the CYLINDER. Obviously, something different needs to be done with it.

>EXIT HOUSE

Once again demonstrating your unfailing dedication to the cause, you wander outside to get a better view.

Yep, that’s a meteor, alright. It’s coming down at a rather brisk pace. Failing a freak airplane accident, there’s zero chance of it breaking up before impact.

And that’s a MANLY ZERO, not a “waah-I’m-a-baby-want-my-blankie-and-my-baba” zero.

Also, the sky isn’t really cerulean anymore, it’s rather Yale Blue-ish.

You reenter the house, and resolve to NOT WASTE ANY MORE TIME like that.

>EXIT HOUSE AGAIN

Nope. Resolve hat’s on. You are IMMUNE to DISTRACTION-TYPE status ailments.

>GO UPSTAIRS

You are now in the BACK HALLWAY of Charlie’s house.

>ENTER CHARLIE’S ROOM.

Oh. Oh, my. That wasn’t there the last time you checked.

>BE CHARLIE AFTER HE CALMED DOWN

You are now Charlie, one minute and four seconds ago.

>CONVENE WITH JIM AND SAM ABOUT THE SPRITE

They know about as much as you do on the subject. There’s your sprite, and it needs to be prototyped in the next eight minutes, fifty seconds, before the meteor hits.

>OVERCOME DEEP-SEATED PHOBIA OF BEING HIT BY METEORS AND SEARCH ROOM FOR LOOSE OBJECTS

What phobia? The only person with a phobia like that is me, and I’m not in danger here.

But I digress. Your cursory thirty-second search turns up a BOB THE BUILDER ACTION FIGURE, one of your sister’s CDs, an ALL-RUSH MIX TAPE, and an EMPTY PLASTIC 2-LITER BOTTLE.

Your room sucks.

> LOOK OUT THE WINDOW AGAIN

You take only a glance, to make sure the meteor hasn’t magically disappeared or some such.

Nope, it’s still there. Zoe’s outside too, for some reason, although she’s walking back inside.

You close the window. The breeze was making the room a bit nippy.

You still need to PROTOTYPE the SPRITE before you do anything else. Whatever that means.

>PROTOTYPE SPRITE WITH BROKEN GUITAR

You take the remains of your cherished instrument. She served you well for two years, and now she will again, after death. You lift the BROKEN GUITAR into the SPRITE, and...

Wow, bright lights.

>BE ZOE

You are now Zoe.

You are in the BACK HALLWAY of Charlie’s house.

>ENTER CHARLIE’S SISTER’S ROOM.

That sounds interesting, but there’s nothing for you there. Also, there was a great big flash from Charlie’s room a few minutes ago, and you want to see what’s up.

>ENTER CHARLIE’S ROOM

In the center of the room hovers a MIASMATIC GREY GUITAR. Sam explains that Charlie has finally prototyped the SPRITE. It is now a GUITARSPRITE.

It’s trying to communicate again, but can only strum out power chords. Very nice, very rich power chords, but still only power chords.

From this angle, you notice a card slot in the TOTEM LATHE that would be the perfect fit for one of the SUIT CARDS.

>INSERT CARD INTO LATHE

You insert the CLUB CARD into the lathe. The part that would normally hold the sewing needle (to continue our sewing machine analogy) extends several spikes over the holding apparatus.

>INSERT CYLINDER

You do so.

>ACTIVATE LATHE

You pull a CONVENIENT LEVER on the device, and the spikes descend, apparently to carve the cylinder into something usable. But the spikes don’t penetrate. The cylinder remains as smooth and unusable as ever.

It probably comes from trying to carve the CLUB pattern into the DIAMOND cylinder.

>RE-CAPTCHALOGUE CLUB CARD

The card slot is now empty.

>INSERT DIAMOND CARD

That’s not currently possible. The DIAMOND CARD is sandwiched between the SPADE and HEART CARDS and the CLUB CARD with TWO DRAGONS.

>SEARCH FOR CAPTCHALOGUE-ABLE ITEMS

There’s a suitable pile of detritus on Charlie’s computer desk. He won’t mind if you sit down, he’s hypnotized by the music the GUITARSPRITE is emitting.

>SIT DOWN

On the desk are VARIOUS ITEMS WE’VE ALREADY GONE OVER.

>CAPTCHALOGUE ACTION FIGURE

It takes up the top spot. Now the CLUB CARD is irretrievable.

>CAPTCHALOGUE CD

The SPADE CARD flies out of your sylladex, shuriken-like, and embeds itself in the wall.

Now you’ve lost the ACTION FIGURE to history. Charlie would be mad, if he weren’t so enamored.

>CAPTCHALOGUE BOTTLE

The HEART CARD quickly joins its friend. The DIAMOND CARD is now accessible.

>CAPTCHALOGUE MIX TAPE

The DIAMOND CARD flies out and into your hand.

>INSERT DIAMOND CARD INTO LATHE

Now we’re cracking. The lathe extrudes a different set of carving spikes this time. You notice they are the same dull grey as the cylinder, not black like the CLUB CARD’S spikes were.

>CARVE TOTEM

The LATHE grinds the cylinder into the DIAMOND TOTEM. It is NOTICEABLY ANGULAR in shape.

The DIAMOND CARD disappears.

>CAPTCHALOGUE TOTEM AND HEAD DOWNSTAIRS

You approach the ALCHEMITER again, oddly-shaped artifact in tow.

>INSERT TOTEM

The machine whirs to life again as you reinsert the totem. It scans the totem, and emits a “ding”. An ODD GREY ITEM appears on the round part of the ALCHEMITER’S base.

The TOTEM disappears.

>EXAMINE ITEM

It appears to be one quarter of a sphere. It has one rounded edge, cut off sharply at right angles. On one flat side there is a SMALL ROUND PEG. On the other is a LONG RECTANGULAR HOLE.

>CAPTCHALOGUE ITEM AND HEAD UPSTAIRS

You do so. The GUITARSPRITE’S serenade is over, or possibly it got tired of trying to talk to someone who doesn’t speak guitar.

>SHOW ITEM TO CHARLIE

He seems transfixed by the weird quarter-sphere. You quickly relate the exciting tale of how you came to possess it. He captchalogues it for safekeeping.

As you ponder what to do next, the QUADRUXTRUDER emits a “ding,” a sound which you are coming to despise.

There are six minutes until impact.

You do not FLIP OUT, because FLIPPING OUT has rather lost its cathartic value.

[PaulPower]

Nice, Graven_Image. One thing that bothers me is your use of the word "prosaic", which generally means (of words) matter-of-fact, pragmatic, plain: the opposite of poetic. So pretty much the last word to describe Rose's writing. Assuming it is Rose's FAQ, anyway.