Requesting permission to unshelf Phase, to use as my third active pair.

Speaking in relative terms, ScorchMan was young and untested for a Navi. As with many of his kind, he was built for specialized job support, with his daily life a regimented, routine closed circuit that neatly separated everything he knew from everything he didn't. Only rarely did ScorchMan's world expand to fit a new depth in his understanding, each instance a milestone - and this conversation seemed like it was going to be another one. Several times, Prose's explanation used terms the Navi had no context for, and his face made no secret of the fact from 'rogues' onward, but he could piece enough dots together to make a game attempt at nodding along. "I think I get it," he said cautiously, once Prose finished her outline, "at any rate, seems like I'll be doing the Net a favour by getting rid of it."

"Too right," Griffin nodded his agreement. Finishing off his stretches, he segued into squats without missing a beat, first on bodyweight, then with a loaded barbell across his shoulders. Even with the weight, he didn't sound the least bit breathless when he spoke up, "So assuming big ugly didn't get chased up here by something bigger and uglier, there must be something screwed up underground, right? Something that drew it up to the...normals, right?" A slight adjustment of stance put Griffin in profile; the smooth glide of quads and hamstrings resumed. "It couldn't have been that far away, if it noticed ScorchMan's bathtub and came to see what's up. Dive down there, and you'll probably find both your bogie and whatever's distracting it from heading home," the firefighter continued, casually putting lie to the notion that more brawn equalled less brains.

The slighter half of the Beefcake Duo had gone quiet, mulling over Prose's words. A small shard of shiny black carapace blinked into ScorchMan's glove, who didn't seem to notice he was fidgeting with it until he pricked his thumb by accident. "I think you're right," he started, facing a point between Griffin and Prose's voices and addressing both at once. To Prose he nodded, gesturing down to the fragment, "It's not exactly closure I'm after. Yeah, I could've just pointed the authorities at the problem and washed my hands, but if it's something I can do something about..." the words fled him.

Hesitant, ScorchMan tried again, "I guess I don't like the thought of giving the Myriad a chance to find someone unprepared for it. That's just, no. Not happening, not on...heh! Not on my watch." The Navi's jaw curled into a rueful smirk, and let the fragment blip away. From beside him came a very Griffin-y 'eyyyyyy', but ScorchMan paid it no mind, choosing instead to reach down for those deep parts in his core that governed fire and heat, and pull. "Yeah," the burning man said, his body awash with curling flames, "I'm ready. If you've got a plan, then just tell me what you need and I'll do what I can. Oh, and uh, maybe stand back."

You wake up.

You are awake.

You fall asleep.

You wake up.

You are awake?

You are asleep.

You wake up?

Your body is a leaden weight, inactive, sedentary.

Disgusting. Pointless.

Stumble to the bathroom. The mirror is gone. When did that happen?

Your hands are bandaged.

Why are you even here?

There's nowhere else.

A beep. Mail from nobody. Net damaged, repairs needed urgently. Will you help? You don't want to, but you need money. You pick a quadrant and make yourself type, each keystroke a brick you will never see, never touch.

Never feel.

That's fine. This is what you wanted, right?

To be alone?

Untouched?

You don't want to-

-finish the thought, coward.

awake. asleeṕ̧̛.̛̀ ͞a͘w̛͘a͏͜͠k̡e̴̵̛.̨ as̵̕͠l̴e̷̢è̴p͘͠.͘

"Uh, that's Mr. December to you, thanks much," Griffin waggled a finger to the camera as he walked off-screen. The soft sound of rustling clothes ensued - from just outside the frame, he called coquettishly, "Kotobuki Firefighters' charity calendar, three years running? No big deal or anything." The rush of a faucet, then the quiet shake of a toothbrush going to work.

"There, that's fine," Cutting his Operator off, ScorchMan made a stopping gesture with a hand once Prose's reconstructions started putting out heat. Walking slowly forward into the wireframes, the walking furnace lit himself up, fire pouring from his body until he stood at the centre of a rippling bubble. With a simulated deep breath, ScorchMan pushed his awareness out and felt for where his heat brushed against the reconstruction. Memory supplied the rest, "That's right...I was flying around, and it tried to shark me just as I landed right...there." He nodded his understanding, barely registering Prose's teasing.

Before ScorchMan could begin, he was interrupted by the sound of a door swinging shut. A hand reached to grab the PET, giving the camera a thighs-up view of Griffin walking down the hall in rugby shorts and a loose tank top. "I can answer that, bro. This lazy mook was chilling in his lava bathtub that he made torching a bunch of viruses, and he stayed in there so long his feet got stuck! Next thing you know, big ugly's rolling up on him like 'yo, snacktime!'' Hey ScorchMan, it cool if I get my gains on while you do your thing?"

"Knock yourself out - and my feet did not get stuck," ScorchMan griped, looking put out in a very literal sense. Flames dying down to a red smoulder, his rippling sphere of influence faded in short order. Without turning to face the other Navi, he started, "I dunno anything about this thing, all I know is Griffin yelled 'big damn lava spider' and the next second it was running me down. Got me a couple times, but I kept ahead of it." At that he huffed a bit, expression twisting as he recalled the mad scramble, and summed up the rest, "Then, it was just a matter of Griffin having exactly the right chips for me to get clear, and blast it before it finished the job."

"Not to mention pointing you in the right direction," Griffin chimed in, hooking his PET to the handlebars of an exercise bike and walking a slow lap around the fire hall's gym. Stretching and unsubtly flexing for the camera, the mottled red of old burn scars were plainly evident along one arm and shoulder. At that point another fireman in athletic wear appeared in the doorway and wolf-whistled, prompting Griffin to bring his arms up, bracket his head with his biceps, and affect a pin-up pose for maximum peacocking. His voice filled the small room, "Yeah, can't say we've been doing this long, but ScorchMan over here? Pretty badass in a fight."

"Yeah, well, I had help." With an emphatic lean towards Griffin's voice, the flames licking from ScorchMan's armour flared back up to a strong yellow burn. Despite the imposing stance, his words were almost hesitant, "So, as long as I'm working with you, can I ask...what was that thing, anyway?"

The WORM's belly convulsed to the point Jazz's footing disappeared from under him entirely. The WORM tipped its long, dark throat up, becoming a tunnel that pointed straight down. Tumbling, splattered with fluids best not thought about, Jazz struggled to bring his gun to bear before the depths claimed him. Once, twice the darkness swallowed his attacks; the third, pointed straight back the way he'd come, lanced something vital in the jaws' construction. The maw stretched wider, wider -

- and finally cracked. Momentum petering out, the jaws split on their hinge and began to fall away from each other. The worm unzipped down its middle even as Jazz continued to fall down its throat, two rips travelling with him until he hit the ground. though the darkness in its belly was an oncoming rush of howling winds and screaming voices. There was nothing to see, but Jazz still felt it passing straight through him. It was like liquid in the air, almost, but the Navi could feel it passing through the same space his body occupied like he wasn't even there. Somehow, he was unharmed beyond the initial bite marks, but his limbs were racked with bone-deep chills that felt like words scrawled on his deepest frameworks.

Coils of flesh laid in heaps across the nest. The WORM was already beginning to decompose into static. There was nothing in its carcass that was any use to Jazz, but there seemed to be extra data uploading to the PET. It's as if the data was sent right through Jazz, communicated across some plane he couldn't quite see.

-The Things that Lurk Beneath the Net-
BINARY.WORM: [EXPUNGED]

-Those Who Fight Back-
Jazz.EXE: 130 HP [Mud] [Hold] [In WORM's mouth]

-Terrain-
90% Mud [Nest Depths]
10% Hole [Center]

-Special-
Nest Depths: The nest is collapsing. Remaining seems unwise.
Hole: Is descending worth the risk?

-EXTERMINATOR - PURGE THE INFECTION-
-BATTLE #5: VICTORY!!-
Rewards: 1600z, Synapse1Damage: 80 + Piercing + Chain 2
Accuracy: B
Description: Produces a powerful ray through sheer force of thought, which arcs towards nearby enemies when it hits a target.
Duration: Once
Element: Elec
Special: Chain 2: This attack, upon striking a target, may change directions towards a new target. This may be done up to 2 times in one attack.
Trader Rank: D

The walls of the cavern are beginning to fracture, revealing deep crevasses in the glacier. It was unlikely that the WORM was the only thing living in the glacier, if there were still networks of caves it had yet to chew into.

His awareness was a bloom of reds.

Compared to the soothing yellow cradle of the PET, the Net was always a bit cold when ScorchMan first touched down, typically a blur of deep shadows and little else to his heat sense. He didn't know when he started noticing that, but touching down to ElecTown Net and already feeling warm and comfortable was a feeling he wasn't the slightest bit used to. All around him was a swirling crimson gradient, the energy that had seared into the ground still diffusing into the Net. The pride he took in his growing power - that, too, was something new.

He wasn't alone. Nearby was a point bright enough that facing it felt almost like standing before the Myriad's jaws. Was this his patron? "Hello? Is someone there?" ScorchMan called out, relieved when the presence spoke up. Walking over, he realized the voice was coming from somewhere near his waist: a child? A small smile came unbidden, even when Prose's introduction faltered. "Old injuries, nothing to worry about. It's good to meet you, Prose, thanks for coming," he waved off her concern; it was easy to guess what she'd noticed.

"Speaking of being prepared, I should get my Operator on board." As ScorchMan gestured, a window popped open roughly eye-level to Prose. The room beyond was dark, with a deeply suggestive view of a man's bare torso amidst tangled sheets. Griffin Reim enjoyed his gym time, and it showed on every inch of visible skin, from his shoulders to the deep V of his hips where his boxers had ridden low. A gentle snoring came from just off-screen - utterly oblivious to the view, ScorchMan keyed the PET's alarm, calling, "Griffin, time to get up!"

"Whuzzah?" A symphony of abs flexed as Griffin levered himself upright, holding the PET up to his face. His cheeks dimpled around a sleepy grin as he noticed ScorchMan's company, "Awww, who's your friend? Hey lil' bun, how's it going?" He seemed utterly unconcerned with his state of undress, making no move to correct it as he set the PET on his nightstand, stretching and sighing explosively.

"My seeing-eye human," ScorchMan deadpanned to Prose. Turning to the window, he summed up the last few minutes for Griffin's benefit, "This is Prose, I met her on the mission BBS last night. She's gonna help me track down that spider-beast we fought, so I'll probably be yelling for Battlechips in a little bit." While Griffin hummed his understanding (and stretched a little more), ScorchMan turned back to not-quite-face Prose. "On that note, how did you want to go about this? The Myriad virus melted its way underground, so I was thinking I'd open the floor up and see if its escape route is still there. That's, uh, assuming you're fireproof; otherwise, I'm open to suggestions." It was hard to tell from the impression he got of Prose what element she might be, but the way she shone he wouldn't be surprised if she turned out to be a Fire-element like him. His furnace flared a little in anticipation, flames flickering across his chest.

The world seemed to darken before Jazz's eyes. The closer it got, the more of his vision was swallowed by an eclipse of gnashing teeth. He fled, but without the benefit of caves to hide in or a frozen slope,there was no outrunning the WORM. Closer, closer came the jaws - and then there was nothing but crunching, ripping darkness. Stephanie, a world away, had to watch her Navi vanish behind that unearthly mouth. Blue light lit its gums from within for a moment, and soon faded.

The BlueMoon's light illuminated the fleshy cavern Jazz found himself in, but the darkness of its throat was absolute. Rather than burn down its gullet, the beam was seemingly swallowed up outright, motes of afterburn disappearing into the gloom. Mercifully, the beast had stilled enough for Jazz to get his footing, but he could feel the throat rippling beneath his feet, contracting, pulling deeper into that uncertain dark.

In defiance, Jazz drew his gun and let his salvo fly. Some of the shots, perhaps about half, went the same way as his BlueMoon, disappearing into the dark without penetrating. His last four shots were luckier, punching into the fleshy walls. The WORM thrashed; from the void came a riot of bellowing; if Jazz could think through the cacophony and his own painful bites, he might have been able to hear it not as a beast's roar, but as a thousand human voices, raging and rioting.

Abruptly, Stephanie's PET came alive, screens flooding with garbled trash bytes. The WORM's designation finally resolved to show its write protection: whatever connection it had to the NET reeling tenuous and frail. Would one more good hit manage to slay the beast before it finished its meal?

-The Things that Lurk Beneath the Net-
B49NA4152Y.WORM: 1 HP [Mud] [Slow]

-P̵̸͠R̶͠E͞҉̷͝Y͢͏̵̴-
Jazz.EXE: 130 HP [Mud] [Hold] [In WORM's mouth]

-Terrain-
95% Mud [Nest Depths]
5% Missing [Back of WORM's throat]

-Special-
Nest Depths: There is no way out at present.

-EXTERMINATOR - PURGE THE INFECTION-
-TURN #4: CONTINUE?-

See you there.

-ScorchMan.EXE

To whom this may concern,

During a recent virus bust in a remote sector of Electown Net, I was attacked by a predator of unusual size and lethality. My Operator and I were able to drive it into hiding, but a lesser-prepared Navi would have faced considerable danger had they encountered it instead. Thus, I am preparing an expedition to track and eliminate the beast before it recovers and causes further damage. Any assistance would be greatly appreciated.

My Operator's PET listed its designation as 'Myriad.F.Seek'. Anyone with information on this being or others like it, be it known whereabouts or clues to its identity, can send their findings here or to my email. The beast is capable of subterranean travel through magma, and I intend to follow its path from the point it fled. Anyone who should wish to join the cause should ideally have protection from hot terrain, whether by element or an OilBody program. I have attached its last-known coordinates, and a screenshot that should display our quarry (I am the Navi in the foreground, for scale).

As this will be my own undertaking, I have no expectations of payment. That being said, I would accept a donation of Fire-element battlechips for future battles.

Regards,
ScorchMan.EXE

ATTACHED: PET Screenshot.img, coordinates.dat,

<(From Navi Net Shop)>

By the time ScorchMan returned, the station was quiet. The distant rumble of traffic had dwindled to almost nothing; night must have fallen. There was a familiar light snoring nearby, but ScorchMan couldn't hear anyone else. Not the bunkroom, then. Had Griffin moved at all since he'd jacked in?

The urge was strong to call out, and start filling in the blanks in his awareness. And yet, Griffin's steady breathing lent the atmosphere a calm softness. They weren't going anywhere, and their agenda was clear until morning. Off-call nights were opportunities for ScorchMan to take time for himself, and he had plenty of thinking with which to occupy himself.

Most of the Navi's headspace was dominated by his recent excursion, and the giant lava-spider he'd fought. The shard of carapace he'd taken as a trophy was passed from hand to hand, belying his agitation. Just recalling the adrenaline was enough to make his furnace crackle in anticipation of a fight. He'd heard of Cybeasts and the destructive force they codified - this hadn't seemed lethal enough to qualify, but it had been far too large for a Netborne virus. Could it have been a fledgling of some sort? A mutant? There were too many gaps in his knowledge to say.

Did it matter what it was? Some strange inkling was trying to tell ScorchMan it did. Only, how did he start filling in the blanks? Griffin was unlikely to be much help, at least without him actually finding where it laired. Other Navis, then - track the monster Net-side, enlist help. The PET should have kept track of where he'd fought the spider-beast. Would he have to dive into the lava where it'd escaped, assuming it hadn't been cleaned up already? Other Navis that could handle submersion in lava, then.

A plan began to take shape, but first..."Griffin, did you fall asleep on the couch again?" A thump and a muffled curse. "You sure did, huh?" ScorchMan allowed himself a chuckle at his Operator's expense (moderation was key, or else he'd be stuck laughing at his Operator all day). "At least hit the bunks if you're gonna sleepover at the station, dude," he chided, touch-typing open a BBS with practised motions.

"Aight, yell if you need me..." Voice low with sleep, Griffin shuffled out of the room, PET in hand. ScorchMan gave a hum of assent and listened for the clatter of being set back on a nightstand. A quick command muted the simulated clack of his keyboard while keeping the haptic feedback, and then he was typing into the night, alone once more with his thoughts and his Operator's snorfling.