A tentacle stretched out from the void of Egomorph's face.

The little projection felt her shape twisting, curling around itself, stretching instinctively towards this new voice, this bright cluster that so surely called its own name. "Vasilia...it sounds...pretty." - she repeated the pretty sound in her head, hanging onto that little nice feeling as she lost herself bit by bit. As she twisted around to match her feeler's pointing and face the Navi properly, feeling and hearing so much she felt thin enough to snap, she thought about how much Vasilia's creator must have loved her, to give her a name so sweet and human.

Hearing her name brought her back a little; behind her, the Conduit's crackling hushed a few decibels. Ego hunched small and buglike in her pool and tried to keep herself still. She's trying to help, she repeated in her head, she's trying to understand, help her understand.' She had to know, she had to know or the human-

N҉̧̢͟͠O̧͏҉̧ ̸̶̷̢͠P͞͏͡͝͝L͡͡E̸̸̡͘͟Á̵̶҉͝S̴̨̛E͝͏̸͜ ̷̨͜͝Ń̛Ò̸̕͟͡

A rope of thin black veins threaded itself down the length of Egomorph's feeler. Through the humming red halos, the veins fed information into her one pulsing trickle at a time, making her whole body ripple and shudder like cloth underwater. There were things in her head, memories of a place she had never been to. "Where he lives...its a dead space. In this world." Ego spoke in a hushed whisper, afraid to raise her voice, desparate to get out as much out as she could. It tumbled out in a jumble, "He's alone. In a locked box. Walls are thick...built them thick. Can't hear any other humans. Blocked out this world too, it's like there's nothing there - but he has the machine it lives in. Is he the Creator? No...no, he found it." Realization jolted her upright. Her voice cracked, "He took it inside. It's locked in with, no, he's locked in with it!"

There was that feeling again, hunger like a whirlpool in her belly, a swirling pit that never fills. Static caught the edges of her voice as she choked on revulsion, "Now it just needs resources - material to build̷ t̢he ̸c̨ońn͢e͞ctiòn͠. No̪̲b̡͙̗͓̟̦̰od̖̹̜̲̤͕y̼̜̠'͉̥͙͕̙s͙̳͕͚̮ ҉̙̤̬͚̮g̥͓̻̼̯ǫ̦̪ͅi̬̖̤̳̯ṉ̱ͅg͔̼͔̦̹̖̖ t͠o̙͓ ̥̗̳̕k͚͙̭͈̙̟͘ͅn̘͖̳̺o̖̣̯w.̮͇̝̰͟.͚̰.̝ͅt̗͓̺̺͕ͅh̨͓͙̥͍̟̖̬e̫̺̦͉̙re'̥͎̻̘̬̯̀s͓̗̭̰̞ ̥̠̻͉̰̥͢n͔̦̩̣͙o̞̥̭̘̠̘͙b͕͈̗̣͚͜o̯̱̫̦͖̗d͓̺̦̮̖͠y̤̹̠̤̹͍͡ ̫̯̘̗͍t̖̝͇̼o͚̻̪̙ ͍h̫͔̞̰͍ẹ̰͔͖a͔̦̗r҉̱̠ ̢̖̣̼h͈̲̠̝́i̢̩̬̳̱ṃ͙͇̙̝͍͕͠.̷̰͕̳ ̮͈̞̀."

She could taste heartwood. "No...no, please, do͘n̕'͠t wak̡e ̛up̷, just a little longer," Ego begged. The pool was starting to spread towards Vasilia; ankles dragging on the ground behind her, Egomorph's neck began to stretch, the white filling her body trying to project beyond the boundaries of her brittle skin.

Jazz's baited FireBomb still burned in the WORM's belly, stoking its fury higher and higher every second. With its meal securely in its eyeless sights, Jazz's horizon was swallowed more and more by a chattering blender of teeth. It didn't seem possible, but the beast's mouth was moving even faster than before, with a noise like a chain gun in a porcelain factory. The unholy darkness awaited, but the odds of entering the void in one piece seemed unfavourable, to say the least.

Jazz's solution was to raise his guard and attempt to deke the oncoming storm. His quick thinking got him out of harm's way just as the WORM's teeth carved trench deep into the cavern wall. While its sheer mass and jaw-force ensured the abomination didn't even slow, by the time Jazz wrestled his Sword back, he was well away from the thing's head, falling somewhere around its midsection. A myriad hands reached out just in time to catch an empowered blast almost dead in its center of mass; so massive was the beast that the energy blast clipped it in the coils a second time on its way out.

Roaring in pain and noticeably damaged, the beast thrashed on its way down. This had a nasty effect on Jazz, who had the bad luck to be within range of many, many tons of fleshy worm being thrown about at catastrophic speeds. The beast didn't seem to care that it was causing itself damage with its thrashing, as long as the tiny thing that had avoided being eaten was punished. In one pummeling second, Jazz's defences were totaled, though the bunny had just barely managed to remain unscathed.

Sensing that it no longer held the high ground, the WORM pointed itself straight down at the earth. Its teeth chewed through the ice fast enough to disappear from view in seconds. The hole it had just made would whip past Jazz in just as long again; if he wanted to take the chance of taking the fight to the sickening creature, he would need to decide right now. Otherwise, the slope would soon level out, and Jazz would be forced to face it on open ground, with neither hidey-holes or gravity to help evade its jaws.

-The Things that Lurk Beneath the Net-
42494E415259.WORM: (??? - 250) HP [Burrowed]

-P̵̸͠R̶͠E͞҉̷͝Y͢͏̵̴-
Jazz.EXE: 200 HP [Sliding] [Defences Broken!]

-Terrain-
100% Ice [Worm-nest: Down Hole, Forward to Nest Depths]

-Special-
Sliding: Moving with your momentum will increase evasion
Burrowed: Burrowed entities can attack other burrowed entities in the same tunnel. Attacking from tunnels to surface still requires exiting Burrow

-EXTERMINATOR - PURGE THE INFECTION-
-TURN #3: BEGIN-

Welcome, possibly-newcomer! Always glad to see a new name pop up.

Basically, what Rogan said, there's invariably a bunch of us spamming up the Discord at any given time, and we're happy to help with character creation should you go that route.

Trying to process so many questions at once froze Ego in her tracks. Her balance gave out, and she toppled back into the white with a thick splatter. She couldn't think - no room in her head for her own thoughts. She couldn't tell the caustic voice apart from the rest anymore.

When the outside voices quieted, Ego chanced a peek at her memory log. The last query had been a simple one, but upon thinking, she realized, "I...don't...know." She couldn't seem to lift her arms out of the white. "The voices call me Egomorph. The white calls me Administrator. The human called...me..."

Overwhelming hunger roiled in a wave she felt through her entire body - the human. Nausea and despair tangled in her belly; even knowing she had no face to express it, she still doubled over, retching into the white.

"No, no no no no no, have to warn him, he's not safe, the human's not safe," Groaning, the faceless girl made to crawl forward, and found she could not. Gelatinous stalks of white had merged her wrists to the pool, a connection she lacked the strength to break.

Something was oozing out of her head.

Another surge of understanding, of once-tasted, of <heartwood/fractal/unguarded>; all Ego could get out was a garbled, "stay away, it knows you're here." Her halos crackled, casting their bloody red malevolence over her back.

The skull-faced girl sitting directly across Aisling was the first to notice her entrance. For a moment she froze, utterly gobsmacked, conversation forgotten. As the rest of the room spotted their visitor and her dramatic costume change, their discussion dissolved into titters and cooing. The girl at the head of the table put an elegant hand to her mouth, masking the childlike jubilance that had dawned upon first sight. When the floral glove lowered, her face was a practiced smirk once again.

The girl in the mirror dress was the first to address the newcomer. She gave Aisling a wide-eyed, overdone look up and down, held the face a beat, and quipped, "I dunno, will she even fit?" The Navi across from her, who had somehow squeezed a typical green NormalNavi body into an outrageously skimpy red-carpet affair (the heaviest part of the whole thing was probably the sequins), proceeded to laugh so hard she snorted.

"Of course she will. My definition of 'one-size-fits-all' allows no exceptions!" The door swung silently open before a stately woman, who had seemingly projected her voice into the room before even entering. In contrast to the Netopian cast and human-standard features worn by the girls at the table, this woman looked like an old Electopian painting, all striking, dramatic line art and jade-green robes that shone like crystal and billowed like liquid. "Feet off the table, Mortalea, we have a guest," she chided gently as she passed the flower-girl, who tsked but nonetheless complied.

The painted lady came to a stop before Aisling and bowed deep, giving the pixie quite an interesting view. "Thank you, Aisling, for taking the time to meet with us. Allow me to introduce your hosts; I am Keikaku, your facilitator for this mission. You'll have received the invitation from our Miss Mortalea," she gestured grandly towards their host, "and we are joined also by her boon companions, Riflessa and Vivirezade."

"It's Vivi," said Vivi, with the air of someone who said this a lot.

"Right!" Mortalea finally spoke up, rocking forward to her feet. "So you read the letter, right? We," she spread her hands to her friends, "have plans for tonight, big, delicate, constant attention plans. Problem being: today happens to be the day I was created, and my father decided that merits a gigantic party for him and all his business partners!" It was hard to say what was more impressive: the sheer derision she managed to squeeze into the word 'father', or the fact that she, a virtual being, made having a father sound completely natural.

"I still say one of us could've done it, we could play you any day," Riflessa snarked.

Mortalea smiled a cheshire-cat smile and reached over to give Riflessa's hand a squeeze. "I need you with me," she said simply. Lacy black gloves reflected against Riflessa's fingers; the eye contact lingered a little overlong before Mortalea broke it and turned her attentions back to Aisling. "We need four people for this job. A team of three to do my business, and one person to go to a party, schmooze with a bunch of Navis with too much Zenny and no processing power. maybe do a little digging for the latest gossip - and, incidentally, be me." Her smile went a bit wistful at the edges, visible even through the harsh skull mask. "I've already made a couple rounds, so they'd be expecting this outfit, but...oh, that dress is just too cute! Keikaku, would you be able to...?"

"Of course, Miss Mortalea. I shall draft a pattern immediately," the facilitator spoke, her voice reverberating like a church bell in the high ceilings. Her painted face eddied and flowed, but never wavered from its expression of regal benevolence.

It seemed to dawn on Mortalea the scope of the assignment she was trying to hand off to a perfect stranger. "I...keep to myself most of the time. The only people who really know me at all are here in this room, so we shouldn't have to drill you on stories," she swept her hand around the room. Riflessa and Keikaku looked like they wanted to reach out to the flower-girl, probably with reasons along the same sort of line. Vivi cut out the middleman, caught the hand in midair, and refused to let go until Mortalea sighed and bumped fists with her. Straightening up, she added, "So, we GMO you up to look like me, you go dance and have fun for a couple hours, meet back here when Keikaku signals you. She'll also be milling around the party, keeping an eye on things. You can even keep your dress if you want. Umm...yeah, that's about the size of it! Any questions? And also do you...wanna?" Towards the end she seemed to run out of charismatic steam, shifting from foot to foot and playing with her hands. Perhaps she'd remembered that Aisling still technically hadn't accepted the job yet.

The climb had become a race against the clock. Wedged completely into the crevasse Jazz had squeezed into, the beast's movements were limited to how fast it could chew through the solid ice. The aid of both a sword and gravity did wonders for picking up the pace, though the teeth were still terrifyingly close, gnawing the crevasse into another perfectly smooth tunnel just above Jazz's hands. In his new perch, every look up at his hands put the maw in his vision. Where the ice it devoured went, it was impossible to know.

Putting his trust fully in his Operator, Jazz slipped through the dark crevasse, and into a cavernous space. It was curiously bright on this side of the crack, every wall a gleaming white-blue. Sliding down the side of one such wall without a hope of a stable footing, it would be up to how clever Jazz was with his sword if he wanted anything like steering. Wind whipped past his cheeks as he rapidly picked up speed.

The earth shook under the bunny's fluffy rump. Above his head, the ice exploded, and he got his first good look at the worm. The maw that had chased him hell for leather through the tunnels was distressingly humanoid: two perfectly straight rows of teeth, a slimy tongue, lips pulled into a snarl that would be ugly even on a normal face. Mounted on the business end of a giant, fleshy worm, with too many hands and feet to count flailing beneath its mass...well, only Jazz knew how he felt looking at it, but it was a sure thing that whatever it was, he was probably feeling a lot of it.

If Jazz's descent could be called precipitous, the nightmare-beast's would be better called 'freefall'. While the rest of its mass coiled and twisted behind it (it was still gushing out of the wormtunnel), its mouth tracked Jazz unerringly. Teeth clacked together at a tempo a human could never have hoped to match - it was getting closer.

-The Things that Lurk Beneath the Net-
42494E415259.WORM: (??? - 90) HP [Behind Jazz]

-P̵̸͠R̶͠E͞҉̷͝Y͢͏̵̴-
Jazz.EXE: 200 HP [Sliding]

-Terrain-
90% Ice [Worm-nest: Left, Right, Up, Down]
10% Missing [Mouth of WORM, Above]

-Special-
Sliding: Moving with your momentum will increase evasion

-EXTERMINATOR - PURGE THE INFECTION-
-TURN #2: BEGIN-

A lone piano fluttered into the cockpit from Vincent's end, one pondering chord at a time. The music added a dreamlike filter to the atmosphere, already soft with dust and nostalgia. While Phase took Dignity for a slow lap of the room, Vincent folded his dumplings, making only a few awed noises at the ancient box art. Both wore matching soft smiles.

Phase stopped a moment to peer up at the arcade boxes. "I think they used to make arcade games Navis and Ops could play together. Fancy a round of Ninja Ninja?" Vincent asked nonchalantly. Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

Dignity's mismatched arms were raised up to the mech's eye level. Phase made a show of twisting each wrist one way, then the other, highlighting how the right hand had the approximate dexterity of a forklift, and how the left 'hand' was, in fact, a cannon. "Eh, take a raincheck," Phase sniped back with the same sardonic tone. They stopped to share a snicker at each other's expense -and that was when they heard something through the wall.

The music, the laughter, everything stopped. Dumplings forgotten, Vincent held a Battlechip to the slot in Phase's PET - one crook of a finger, and Dignity would be armed. The two shared a nod, and Phase made to plant Dignity's cannon against the door. She leaned into the controls, and the mech's hand ventured up to see if it would open. A quick flick of the loudspeaker made her voice ring out from the brass chassis, a tinny call of, "Hello? Anybody home? Just a couple of harmless explorers, don't mind us!"

Ego froze. New voices, coming not from inside but outside. The white was swirling beneath her at rest, distracted for now. She remembered the lab, her fear feeding the white's agitation until it woke up. She remembered coming back afterwards to find her hands, her feet, her face stolen. She didn't want to imagine what would be left of her this time, tried not to give the white anything to latch onto.

She did anyway. A whine leaked out against her will.

Ego tried to relax; if she panicked, the voice wouldn't be safe. She made to speak, a hesitant answer of, "It wasn't-" that abruptly cut out. Something had flooded to the surface, pushed her voice out of the way and gushed out the tears in her body: a final, distorted, desperate cry from the caustic voice.

Y̥͈͓̳͔̆o͓̮ͬ͑͌ͮͤ̃̉̔͆ṷ͉ͦ̐̄ͨ ̙̩̗̖̗̹̮̈͆̾t̪͔̝̹̮̾̂̓ͬ̉͆̎̾ͯh̥ͧ̈ͥ͛͑̀̚e͈̰̰͕̫͖̭̜ͫ̏ͯȓ̠̒͛̿̆̊̑͆̚ḛ̦̠̪̂̉ͬͫ̇̊͛̊̇!̝͎̱̜̻̖̈̿͑ ͖͍̣̱̺͉̫̜͋̄͛̊̒͐ͯG̲̻̳̪̋̾ͯ͂ė̹̟̪̯̅t̼̫͍̟̖̤͋̿̊͒̊͆͂ ̱̺̙̜͈͖̜̥͎̆͌̍͂́̆ͬ̊m̟͖ͤ̏e͓̜̱̱̭̥̾̾̈́ͮͯ͊̋̚ ͙̬̦͍ͪͦ͒͑̾̒̎͋̐o͖͕̤̰̮͓͂̑̇̊̅̓̌͌ͅu̖͑̈̽͊͐̊t͎̳̹̖̐̍̆̽ͪ̐̅͒ͅ ͇̘͚̮̰̈̃̃̿̏́õ͖̞͉̞͚͕͔̪̽̋ͅf̜̗̱ͫ̎̒̾͋͒ ͈̖̠͖̙͓̤̯ͤ͒ͩḥ͓̮͖̍̉͊ͫ͊͒ͨ̚ė͎̟̝͉̙̖͈͖͗ͫ̊̒r͉͙̝̙̲ͪ͒͊̐̏ẹ͍̜̪̮̈́̿͛ͭ,̮͙̬͔͓̗̖͇̈̂ ̜̼͔̘͕͕̍̍͒͂͊g̙ͦͭ͒̽ͅê̤̱̭͍̔ͅͅt̳͎͆ͤ̓̑ͥ̅͌ ̹ͭ͒m͇̹̖̳͕̤̱͂̏ͭ̄ͯͣ̎̚e̼̟̹̺ͨ̏̅̂ͬ̏̋̋͐ ̠̖̖͔̀ͪ̓̈ͭ̓̍ͦo̬̘͒̒ͧ̍͒ͦͬụ̼̼̫̗̻̟ͪ̽̐͐ͅt͔̞̘̉̂̐ͪ̈ ̗̯̝͚̙ͧg͕̤͖͇͕̫ͤ͗̂́ͯ̍̽̇ḙ̙̣̙ͨͣ̂̃ͨ̂t͓̮͔̲̯̣̞̻͗̇́́ͫ̒ ̼̦̰̘̺̖̠̥̜́̏̔̈́̉̚m̙͓͕̈ͦ͑̑ͧ͑e̟̞ͭ͌̔̒̑ͥͪ ͖̣̣̭̼̜̞̱̜̋̑̄̉̈́̏ͦ̇̾ȏ̞̭ͣú̫̟͉͇̄̾ͅṯ̮̱͕̞̤̮͊́ͮ̈͂̓ ͙̪̭̭̭̊̊͋ͣ̅ͅp̲̜̖̦̪ͧͥͫ̂͗̈́l͔͔̮̻̆e̯̥̫̼̪͓̦̅̓a̺̻͙̯̣̙͓ͧ͒̽̄̓ͩͪ͌s͈̩̻̼ͮ̒ͫͯ̽ͣ͑̈́̚ͅe͍͇̳͔̹ͪ͆͐̂ͬͭ̽ ̭̹̻̀g͈̃̑̑̾̐ͪe͔͔͚̮͙͈̖͗ͯ̎̇t̙̙͉͓͐ͣ̎͒ͅͅ ͙ͫm̤̪̰̬͔ͧ̈́ͅẹ̻̈͂ ̜̭͍͖͚͇̠ͬ̍ͫ̐ͤ̿͂o͖͕̦̓͐̌͆͌͆ͧͩ̈́ṳ̱ͪ̇t͎͙ͪͧ̅̍̏̈̏,͖͓̩̼͎ͨ͋̈͒̚ ͔͇̯̝̜ͯͩ͋ͧi̯ͨ̐͌t̗̺̲̭̯̹͖̆́̓̾ͪ̎ ̲͈͖̦̖̪̰̦̊͐͋̉ͭ̈h͎̪̦͉ͤͦȕ͍̝͇̥̱́ͭͥȓ͎͚̿ͥͦ̋ͮ͆̇ͭt͔̼͑ͣ̆s̲̭̳̻͈̪̼̤ͯ̇̈́ͩ͋̔̑̓̋ͅ,̩̊͆ͅ ͔̥̠̦͈̖̝ͮ͑ͭͩi̠̝͆ͪͮ̀̒̏̇ͩṭ̥̩̖͇̮̥̃̄̋̆̊̽ͅ ̯͚ͤͫ̏ͪ͑͗d͍̟̼͍̠̩̝͂͆r̹̯̓ͫͫ̈́̅̔ͦa͙̭̻̹̅͂̽͌̆͊͛̉g͈͉̪͎͕̤ͩg̼̠̫̘̲̣ͥͪ̄́͋ͦ̉e̙̱̽͋̏d͍̟̖̽ͪ̿ ̳̘̰͕ͪ̂̔̑ͯ̂ͯ̔m͈͉̗̻ͫ̋͐ȅ͚̘̻̆͑̒ͤ ̩͈̮̤̈̇̏̂ͬ̃̊̾i̘̫̘̟̟̱͉͋͐̾̋̉̔ͪṉ͚̊ͥ̿̿ͪ,͕̳͍͊̏̿͛̐̍̓ ͚͑ͧ͛̔̀̚c͓̫̬̔͂̌͐͊̈́ͅȧ͈̟͂n̝̊̀͌'͍̲͖̥̻͙̂̃̇͐ͯͩ̽̚ṯ̗̠̪͍ͧ̉͌ͮ̽̇ ͕̼̜̖͉̹̲̲̂ͩ̓͊͑͆͐̓f̳̗͓͉͕̲̭̮̆̐͗͊͑ͣ̚i̥̣ͪͩͮ̆͊ͨ̈́n̜͚̖̏͒̋̓́͂̆͋d̤͖̩̭̰̮̹̈́͑ ̖̣͎̦̗̫̳̇ͤͬ͐ͥ̑ͨm̤̩̫͗̏ͨͤͅy͔̙̤̦ͭ͋ͤ̄ͫͮ͆ ̤̲̮̣͙̮̙ͮ̅b̜̩͔͚̞̞̼͂̇͂ͬ̐̎o͕͈̻̖ͭ̽͊ḏ̝̭̙͇ͬ̀͋ẏ̲͖͖̖͓̯̰͆̓͊ͤͅ ̻̣͉̜̮̎ͭ̀͗̌̊ĭ̺̰͚̯̘̮̞t̤̝̅ ̞̹̹̺̋̎̿h͍̘͎̘̲̤̱̾̀͗ͫͣ͂̅u̥͍͍̱͎̙̲̰ͫͮ͌̌ͬ̍r̭̮̼̣͚͒͋̆̈ͨt̹̙͚̫̪̲͊̄̊̆s̥̰͔̣̠̻͂ͥͣ̓ ͖̬̬̱͕̩̅͛͐w̲͖̜̹͉̹ͫ̑͆̚h͇̪̙̯̍̀̊̆e̫̐̃ṟ̂͒͗ͯͤe̟̺̾ͭ̈́ͣ ̱̣͓̩͕ͥá̤͂͋̅ͬm̙̞̪̗̺̠̼͙͔̓͐ͥ̔ ͔̞̩̙̬̎͆̾ͥ͌i̹̹̿́̊ͭ ̣̜̘̂̓ͅw̲̻̥̦͖͎̲͍̘ͭ͌̉̋ͫ͆̈̾̂h̦̘̬̤̩͐̔ͪ̏̓o͍͕̮̐ͪ̽ͅ ̺͓̗͍̯̦͈̺̀a̞͇̻̭͓ͬ͒̎͆m̘̦̭̥͌ ͕̳̈́̓̇i̬̦ͪ̆̄ͤͪ ͍̹͔͍̻̟̪ͤͦ̔̉̑͆̋̔ẇ̬͖̲͒̿ͨ̎͗̇̏h̼̮̟̘̽̚o͙̺̦͉ͧ̋͗̔͛̐͊ͅ ͈̘̞̣̹̺̗̼̻ͤ͊̀ͭͣa̬̖̫͔̝̘͖̱͔̅́̏ͫ̈́̒̓̏r͚̯̳͈̳̞̻̽̑̐͗͛͂ͅe̘͍̳̳ͤͥͬ͌̔ͣͧ̐͒ ̞̚w̭̥̟̬̫̼̺̩̲̄͛ͦ̀ẽ̹̮̪͙̘̇̽̆̃ ̹̝͚̩͍ͩ̀̈̌ͣ͌̎i̠̝͙̪͉͍̟̻ͩ̈́ͣ̅͋ͅt̯̺͔̻̲̮̖ͮ̐̓̂̈́͌̒ ̦͖͆̅̈̍h̬̘̯̺̰̀̇ͅͅu̝̅̊̀͑̓ͮ̓̄r͓̔̾ť͕͎̯̰̤̭̺̱̹̈́̑̑̇s̬̺̤̼̟͈͓͑͑ͭ̀̓ͅ ̟̣̹̺͑ͫͥ̔͆i̮̬̤̗͙̳̔̓̊̐̈́̇t͎̲̙̲͕̲͂ͯ̆ ͉̭͈̮͐̒ͦͭ̑̓ẖ͚̬̳̠̠̓u͔̜ͤͥͬ̒̋r͈̱̝̞̲̣͒̋̓̽̿͌̍̐t͈̩̖͉̗̑ͯ͐ͭ͛̌̓̇s̖̘͖̝̟̉͗̌̚ ͚̫̙̬̰͖͓̩ͣͦͤͧ̊h̺͈̰ͮ͑u͕̪̥͇ͤ̔ͩͤr̼̙ͣ̈́ͮ̔̏t͓̓ͨ̈ͮ͑̅s͔͖̤ͬ ͈̝̰̫̭̽ͮͥ͋ͪ̑h͔̭̩̭̤́̂̓͐̊ͫ̈́͗u̼̟̘̤͈͇̻͉̿ͦ̏̈́̿͌̈̆̊r͓̦͛ͨ̃̔ͩt̹̻͓̗̠̓̀ͫͣ̎̄̂̃s͚͇̗̠̺̖̞ͬ̈́ͅ ͓̥̥̪ͨͅh̙̣̜͎ͮ͛̆̄̚u̺̩̗̟̬̖̼͚̇̽͆̏̋̌͂̚r̬̱̲̞̥̠͉͈̞̂̃͛̓̇̌ͤ̚t̟̣̄̑̃̏̓̎ś̳̦̞͔̣̘͎ ̞̙̲͕͖̻̳̈́ͭ̇͊ͅh͍̻͒ͦͫͥu̫̗̐ͫͫr͚͎̬̯̼̥̬̘ͪ̏͛-̼̯͂͛͑͋̋ͣ̅̈

The voice ran out of energy. Ego felt it sink and blur and lose itself amidst the rest. "I'm sorry," she crumpled to her knees, arms splintering where they cradled her head. "I'm sorry," she repeated, "I couldn't help you." Maybe, though, maybe she could protect this new voice. She forced herself still. "You have to go. You need to go," she stressed. "Its asleep now but I won't-" a sob threatened to overtake her, "-won't be able to help you if you don't go now. Please."

Done with kneading, Vincent set to spooning out dollops of hot meat and onions across the flat pastry dough, watching the screen as he went. The teacher's eyes were sharp, sharp enough to catch the signs of activity. "Someone's been here, Phase, been here recently," he cautioned. He started cutting circles of dough out around each mince cluster, talking all the while, "Dignity's engine is good and primed, and I've got Battlechips ready just in case. Let's see what's going on in there, let's see."

Phase sent a thumbs-up through the screen as Vincent went back to his baking. Looked like pelmeni tonight; she could almost smell the garlic and horseradish blended into the mince. She tapped at the console until the card key zapped out of her hand and into Dignity's, pleased that the card's size had reverted to normal scale once outside the cockpit. Turning to the card slot, Phase...couldn't find it. Right, she thought with a grimace, Dignity would barely come up to a Navi's waist right now. Jerking the controls to try and get a better view, she heard a plasticky clatter of card-on-pavement. "Oh great," was all the cursing she allowed herself.

It turned out that somewhere along the way, Dignity's screens had ended up with a bit of a blind spot. It was an easy enough mistake to make; Vincent thought. After all, he'd certainly never imagined Phase would need to look up, but there they were. Dignity was standing as tall as her piston legs could stretch, torso bent back a solid 45 degrees so her pilot could see the card reader and maneuver the slim card in the mech's clumsy hand. From the cockpit, it was like watching a steampunk enthusiast's take on a crane game, gone horribly wrong. Vincent had Dignity's handwritten manual pulled up, eyes flicking from papers to laptop and back. "Now ease that lever there - yes, that one, feather it left. Good," he coached in his teacher-voice.

Sweat beaded Phase's brow; who knew operating heavy machinery could be so stressful? "Don't drop it don't drop it don't drop iiiit YES!" she crowed. Finally she brought her arm down, and Dignity swiped the card through to much fanfare and rejoicing.

Had the Blazer been focused on anything but the promise of attacking the shiny, shiny data, it might have thought to fly up and out of range of the incoming shockwave. Instead, it gunned its engines, blasted off straight for the defending duo, and SPUN. The blast of flame missed the data node completely, though Astraea got a bit scorched from the proximity.

The Spikey's tight hold was enough to keep it on the virus' back and away from the gouts of flame. The laws of centrifugal force were less kind to the Genin, who couldn't maintain hold of both its sword and the Spikey's neck and was unceremoniously flung off. Despite the damage to its dignity, it managed to twist in midair to avoid the Blazer's flames, and was far better off in avoiding the onslaught Astraea had interposed in the Blazer's path. The shockwave blasted the meleefishflying flaming fish to pieces.

The Spikey leaped off just as its ride disintegrated and managed to reach safe ground, spitting a fireball in retaliation. The fire punched into Astraea's side and splashed over the mysterious node, though the barrier soaked up the flames handily. The CactBall Astraea tossed back at it made a valiant roll across the metal, through the sand, caught a breeze, stopped by the exposed rock to roll itself in a bit of exposed twig and brambles, and rode off into the sunset to begin its new life as a tumbleweed. It made a delightful image, but perhaps it wasn't quite the result Astraea had imagined when she threw it.

-=Viruses=-
HauntedCandle A: DELETED
HauntedCandle B: DELETED
MettFire A: DELETED
MettFire B: DELETED

Blazer: DELETED
Spikey: 90Hp [Perched on Normal]
Genin: 60Hp [Sand]

-=Navis=-
Astraea.CMD: 90Hp [Metal] [3 Actions Remaining]

-=Terrain=-
50% Sand [Majority]
25% Sea [Broad strip crossing on one side of the metal circle, where the dragon attacked]
20% Normal [Exposed sections of sandstone rock, scattered]
5% Metal [Circle of panels in the middle of the area]

-=Objects=-
Metool Data Node (Also Green and Mysterious): 25Hp [Master-worked] [Metal] [Right by Astraea] [25Hp Barrier]

-=Battle Mode=-
MD Defence:
- Victory Condition: Protect Mystery Data for 3 full turns
- Additional Failure Condition: Mystery Data Destroyed
- 2 Additional viruses will join at the end of each turn, up to 7 maximum viruses at one time
- Viruses will actively target the MD over players when possible
- MD is locked until win condition is cleared
- Players will be given a guaranteed, voluntary escape when the win condition is fulfilled, which they can use at any time thereafter, and receive full rewards for their performance in battle.

-=Turn 2 - SPLICED=-