>>4949361
HAHA, TIME FOR MONUMENTALLY BAD DECISIONS

>>4949361
LET'S GOOOOOO

>>4949361
Alright, how many people are we gonna get killed today

Reminder that it's easy to assume that many of our beloved characters have plot armor.

It's also easy to assume that this is still thr first iteration of 422.

Tread carefully, lads.

>>4949369
Probably many, hopefully all instrumentalists

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"Ohayoooooooooooo gozaimasu!"

Rose, an overcast midmorning Akiba Crossing her backdrop, salutes with the back of her hand as the camera zooms from an extreme longshot to an extreme closeup with whiplash-inducing speed. Her name in English appears on screen at the exact moment her knuckles strike her forehead and it's no coincidence the editors accompany the appearance of her name with the SFX of hyoshigi. Dubiously, the title under her name identifies her as an "English expert."

In Japanese, Rose explains today's game: "Today, I'm going to test people's knowledge of the English language! Here's an example!" Trying to maintain eye contact with the camera, she awkwardly gropes for the easel at her side. The camera pulls back a little to catch her struggle on tape. A brief cut to the panel in the studio shows everyone laughing. At last, though, Rose finds the large cue cards resting on the easel, and takes them in hand. Flipping one over, she reveals a picture of a citrus fruit to the camera, spherical, bumpy, and orange. In English, Rose asks of the viewers: "Can you name this word in English?"

Back to the studio. The panel members glance around at one another. This is a fairly easy word. A few of them mumble "orange...?" with increasing confidence as they find that they all agree -- yes, the English word is orange.

And back again to Rose. "That's right! Tangerine!"

The panel members groan and facepalm.

Rose herself is a member of the panel too and seems perplexed at the negative reaction. "Nani?" She demands politely, almost meekly, several times over.

One of the leading panel members, the gravelly voiced comedian known professionally only by the given name Shouta, who usually shows the most exasperation towards Rose, asks her directly: "Did you select these words?" To which Rose nods and goes "Mm." Which draws a renewed chorus of groaning and oh-no-ing, and a more perplexed, almost pleading series of nanis from Rose, as she turns from side to side and looks questioningly from face to face.

Rose finally looks to her immediate left and asks Makoto: "what's wrong, darling? What did I do?" But even Makoto is unimpressed. She calls Rose an idiot and gives her a playful chop to the noggin, using the same hand she wears her wedding band on.

>>4949386
AAAAAAAAA YES

>>4949386
YOOOOOOO LET'S FUCKING GOOOIII

>>4949386
B L E S S E D

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The main part of the pretaped segment begins, now with a wipe in the bottom left to show the reactions of panel members.

Rose approaches an elderly woman and explains that she's a TV presenter who'd like to test the common person's basic English knowledge. When the woman agrees, Rose shows her a picture of a ball.

"This one?" Rose prompts the woman, in English.

"This one?" The woman asks.

Rose nods.

"Ehh... baseball," the woman says.

"Softball," Rose tells her, apologetic.

The woman shakes her head and walks away, leaving Rose calling "Hey! Come back! That was only one question!"

In the corner-wipe, Makoto is mortified -- Rose is befuddled -- and the rest of the panel is dying.

Rose is with a teenage boy. "This word?" He asks, English thickly accented. "This word... pants."

"Shorts," Rose corrects, indicating the low-cut hem.

Next Rose is with a salaryman. The salaryman clears his throat as he stares at the picture on the cue card and searches his memory. "This word... ahh... ahh... marker."

"Highlighter," Rose tells him. He gives her a look half gobsmacked, half loathing.

Next a young boy, maybe no more than seven or eight, in knee-high socks. Proud at his vocab, he announces: "Goat. Goat. This word? Goat!" To which Rose, hands on knees to speak at his level, sadly responds, "antelope" -- making him begin to cry. The boy's mother says things to Rose the network has to censor.

The segment continues in this vein for several minutes, including a series of words that leave the people on the street totally stumped. The salaryman who guessed marker has no idea what to say when shown a picture of a unicycle; the teenager doesn't even begin to have a guess for zebra; and the little boy, his tears only just beginning to subside, starts to weep anew when he fails to find the word for humidifier -- prompting his mother to scream at Rose, "you will die without burial!"

The segment ends, fittingly, with a woman guessing "doll" at one of the pictures, and Rose telling her "dummy." The shot freezes on Rose's apologetically smiling face. A red-and-yellow arrow pops up with a ding, pointing at the picture of the dummy, and labeled ダミー. A second arrow pops up with another ding, pointing at Rose, and labeled バカ.

It's all in good fun. Back in the studio, the panel's laughter turns to clapping, and Rose repeatedly bows in her chair at the applause. Of course Rose didn't choose any of the words. It was some producer. She's just playing a role -- the dumb foreigner act still sells. So no hard feelings, and warm laughter when Rose asks Makoto to please forgive her. Makoto playfully shuts her eyes and looks away, hands on hips.

>>4949409
I love my adorkable candy girl.

>>4949409
Aww, Rosie living her best life

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The next segment is a news discussion. The panel speculates on what the next era name will be following Hisahito's sudden abdication the previous month. Rose's input is that she doesn't like "Seika" because it sounds too much like psycho; but "Banna" would be nice because it reminds her of both bananas and banners -- two things she adores.

Makoto, flabbergasted, demands: "you love banners? Since when? What kind of banners? Why do you love banners?" -- leaving Rose unable to answer, and yet just as insistent that, "a-durr! I've always loved banners! You know that!" Makoto chops her on the noggin again, prompting Shouta to deadpan "maybe that's the cause of the problem here."

Each of the panel's members brings their own news item for group discussion. An idol in the panel wants to discuss the push to ban non-self-driving vehicles in the country (she favors it, but she's terrified of driving anyway); one of the comedians wants to discuss the surge in counterfeit Yen on the market since it overtook the Euro as the #2 global reserve currency (he pesters the panel to join him in setting up their own counterfeiting operation, and produces a small office printer from under his chair to show that he's got the equipment all taken care of).

It's Shouta who, purposely, dismantles the good mood. These group discussions, like everything else, are predetermined rather than spontaneous. He was supposed to bring up an opinion survey showing that 70% of the Japanese public feels overworked -- that's what everyone on the panel is prepared for next. Instead: "Rose -- is your family doing all right?"

Rose looks around, surprised. "Me?"

"Your politician sister got shot not too long ago -- right? And now this..."

An AP who's in on Shouta's cruel prank cues up some graphic video of Cerise's attempted assassination. This comes followed by an aerial view of the more recent violence at the main campus of Darkbloom Enterprises. "This is the company your family is so closely linked with, right? Privacy Intruders Inc.? It seems a little... on fire."

"I..." Rose has no idea what to say. The rest of the panel is stunned into awkward silence too. Shouta's antagonism towards Rose isn't just for the cameras. He simply doesn't like her, and wants to humiliate her. Everyone here knows it.

Makoto is the first to respond. She stands and takes the office printer from her panel-mate's hands. Chucking it into the side of Shouta's head, knocking him out of his seat, she shouts: "go fuck yourself!" -- in perfectly enunciated English, a phrase she picked up from Arabasuta Soiruoki. Shouta collapses to the floor, curled up, moaning in agony, cursing, and bleeding. The producers are going to have to cut the whole segment out.

OP: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Atvsg_zogxo [Embed]

>>4949423
What the goddamned fuck

This piece of shit

>>4949423
oy. fucking cunt. kick his ass Makoto

>>4949423
>following Hisahito's sudden abdication the previous month
Between this and Jimmy Carter I'm starting to get terrified for completely new reasons

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"Hey. Are you awake?"

Lily's voice on the other end is groggy, but still bitchy. "You making a 8 AM booty call, Wes? I was fucking sleeping. Inconsiderate slut. You want to fuck, call me at a normal hour, like 2 or 3 AM."

Putting Lily on speaker was an unforced error. Amber, exhaling hard, says: "You're fucking Lily now, too? Does your sluttery know no bound?"

You shrug. "Uhh... didn't you know that already?" You tug your hoodie on, swapping the phone between hands. "I was sure you knew that..."

Lily isn't happy to hear Amber's voice. "Echh-- fuckin-- we're not 'fucking', Amber, as in the present tense! We fucked! Past tense! One time! It was a pump and dump!"

Amber grabs the phone, yells straight into the speaker. "Don't you pump and dump my slut sister, you slut!"

Glaring at Amber, you take the phone back from her. "Just come to Shake 'em Up. Come alone. Come armed."

There's a pause. Lily's voice softens. "Shit's going down, huh?"

"Yeah," you agree.

"And what makes you think I want to be any part of the shit presently going down?"

"I got nothing," you admit. "And I won't be mad if you say no. But I could really, really, really... use your help right now."

There's another, longer pause.

"I'm on my way," Lily says.

>>4949409
Can't wait for the Part 2 segment: Basic Japanese knowledge ft. AX/Comic-Con/US Comiket attendees.

>>4949423
Very shamefurr to go for a low-blow on the natural airhead.

>>4949430
And here we go. Strap in, lads.

Or strap on. Both tend to apply.

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You pocket your phone and bend down to lace up your shoes.

"You trust that bitch?" Amber says.

You peer up at her from your bent-over position. "More than you, actually."

She sounds hurt. "What the fuck? ...Why?"

"I've only seen one of you reading the Unabomber's manifesto in the past month. Start there."

"Are you saying that the industrial revolution and its consequences haven't been a disaster for the human race?"

You stand straight, stretching. You begin to count off on your fingers, beginning with your thumb: "I'm saying she knows how to fire a gun. Accurately. She's had my back in a life-threatening situation before. We make good teammates. And she's, generally speaking, a rational person."

"Lily."

"Yeah."

"Rational."

"Yes!"

Amber kicks you in the shin. It nearly knocks you down. You kick her back.

Amber stumbles back and hops up and down on one foot, grunting. "Ow-- shit-- fu--" Regaining her balance, rubbing her own shin in pain, she points at you. "If this bitch gets us killed, I am going to beat your ass, Wesley! Not every girl who rubs her pussy on your face is trustworthy, you know!"

"Go cry about it," you tell her. "If you don't like how I do things, you should have gone in alone and let me sleep."

You brush past her and leave your room. Her angry eyes follow you out. "When the fuck did I give you permission to have a spine?" She shouts after you, but you ignore her, and eventually she has to hurry to catch up.

>>4949423
I dunno what kind of jackass looks at the Soliloquy family and decides "Yeah. I'm gonna go fuck with that."

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The chime above the door at Shake 'em Up announces your entry. Amelia is there to greet you right away. "Amber... Wes! You're up early for a Saturday."

With a ring finger, you rub the boogers of sand from your tear ducts and examine it.

Amelia wipes her hands on her apron -- a sympathetic response? "Summer isn't on the schedule today, if that's who you're after. She's at a football game."

"She's at a handegg game..." Will grumbles, bringing up the rear. He came in a separate car, all the better for the three of you to slip away undetected with him at the wheel.

Amelia smiles at him. "Will -- right?"

Will makes finger guns at her. Amelia doesn't miss a beat before making finger guns back.

"We're just here for breakfast," you tell her.

"Well, it's always nice to have you. Take a seat wherever you like."

You grab a booth in the corner near the back.

"Good thinking on Shake 'em Up," Will says as he settles in beside Amber, across from you. "I'm starting on a new diet, and this place is just perfect."

Your question of "diet?" is lost under the sound of Amber shouting "you're seriously going to eat at a time like this? Are you stupid?" But Will chooses to answer you rather than her: "Yeah. The carb thing wasn't working out. Now I'm on a seafood diet."

You huff. "What -- you see food, and you eat it?"

"What?"

"...What?"

"It's a seafood diet. Like fish and oysters and stuff."

Lily slides into place beside you so quickly and silently that you don't notice until she's responding to Will: "you're dumb enough as it is. You don't need to bioaccumulate mercury as a side hobby."

Amber sneers. "Will might be dumb, but at least he's not a dumb cunt."

Lily stands as if she's ready to leave. You stay her by grabbing her hand and tugging on it limply. She sits.

"You people wanna tell me what I dragged myself out of bed to get shot at about?" She says.

"Instrumentalists are making Darkbloom Enterprises their casa del culto today," Amber tells her. "I want to be there to see what the hell is really going on with these clowns." She waves her pilfered mask to show it off. "Wes and I are on infiltration. Will'll be the wheelman. But we need someone else to keep an eye peeled on the inside periphery... someone who can ring the oh-shit alarm, if needed."

"Why are these cultist freaks meeting at your daddy's company?" Lily asks her.

"That's the trillion dollar question, ain't it?" Amber says.

>>4949452
>Will makes finger guns at her. Amelia doesn't miss a beat before making finger guns back.
I love this woman

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>>4949452
>Your question of "diet?" is lost under the sound of Amber shouting "you're seriously going to eat at a time like this? Are you stupid?" But Will chooses to answer you rather than her: "Yeah. The carb thing wasn't working out. Now I'm on a seafood diet."
>You huff. "What -- you see food, and you eat it?"
>"What?"
>"...What?"
>"It's a seafood diet. Like fish and oysters and stuff."
He's either an idiot or a trolling genius.

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"Shh--" you hiss as Amelia comes by.

"What'll it be to get you started?" She asks, taking out a notepad.

You wave her off, so does Amber. But Lily wants a deluxe strawberry shake. And Will, glancing up, says: "hey, did you guys change your menu?"

"Not lately," Amelia says. "Do you need help finding anyt--"

"Are you sure? That it's the same. I don't see the fish here."

"We're... we're an ice cream shop," Amelia says.

"Do you have fish?"

"...No."

Will nods. Looks back down at the menu. "Bummer. I thought you had fish..." He looks up again. "Do you have shrimp?"

Amber snatches the menu from him and hands it back to Amelia. "He'll take an iced coffee shake. Extra whipped cream."

"I don't like whipped cream," Will says.

"I do. I'm gonna scoop it off the top."

"Oh, NOW you're all of a sudden like totally in favor of eating while we're here--"

"You still have that cantaloupe shake on special?" Tyrus asks, walking up. All conversation dies.

"Ah -- yes, yes we do..." Amelia says, glancing from him to the rest of you. She only now seems to grasp that something is amiss.

Tyrus winks at her. "I'll take a medium. Thanks."

She scampers off to relay your orders to the kitchen. You and your friends stare madly at the tabletop, mute. Tyrus leans in, slowly settling his weight on on both fists, and says: "Oh, I'm sorry. Am I interrupting something?"

>>4949459
Thank fuck, someone who knows what he's doing

>>4949459
Bahaha

In retrospect, this should have been obvious

>>4949459
Big heh.

>>4949465
I'm kind of annoyed with myself for not bringing up how Tyrus would react. Oh well, could be worse, could be Marquis.

>>4949459
Damn, jig's up I guess. Unless?

>cantaloupe shake
Man, now I got a craving.

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"Daddy--" Lily begins.

"Don't you daddy me, girl. Scoot your scrawny ass over."

Lily squeezes in tight with you to make room for Tyrus. She's all elbows and bony limbs -- then again, so are you. You jostle with each other, trying to get comfortable, and failing for the close quarters.

"I guess I must just be goddamn crazy," Tyrus says, "but it really feels to me like y'all are planning on going somewhere today. Somewhere y'all ought not to be."

"Did my dad send you?" You ask, pushing Lily's thigh off your leg with a huff. She jabs you in the tit.

"I sent me," he says, patting the breast of his tailored suit. (Snazzy dresser even on a Saturday morning.) "I gotta say -- I'm disappointed in you. Now I expect Amber to start some shit. But I thought a lot better of you, Wesley. You always seemed more... thought-through. You know? But here you go preying on the fact that my little girl's in love with you, all to drag her on some suicide mission--"

Lily blushes deeply. "I-- I'm not-- love? Love? What the-- LOVE? That's, that's... ridiculous..."

Amber snickers.

"I don't want to hear it, Lily, okay?" Tyrus tells her. "You spent long enough crying to Marquis about it, and I had to sit through that. I don't need to sit through the denial phase too. You can work through your conflicted emotions when you're back home in your bedroom again, where you'll be, for the next... oh..." (he peels back his cuff and checks his Rolex) "...12 dozen years."

"He's crazy," Lily tells you in a whispered tone, face only centimeters from your own. "I don't... love you-- I mean..."

"So what's the big plan?" Tyrus says. "Come on. I don't got all day."

There's a palpable silence before Will begins, "uh, I'm the wheelman, and Amber's--" but Amber elbows him in the ribs, eliciting an "oof" and shutting him up.

You lean forward to peer around Lily and demand, "why are these psychos meeting at Darkbloom Enterprises? Tell us that much."

"Not privy," Tyrus says. "I'm on a need to know basis. So are you."

Amelia comes back with your orders. Lily suddenly isn't so interested in her shake anymore, ditto Will and Amber. But Tyrus takes his and thanks Amelia, sipping through the straw. "You should add this to your regular menu. It's the best thing you got."

"Whitney's well aware," Amelia tells him. "She keeps the best items on limited edition so customers are always coming back for the next hot thing. Supply and demand. ...Cantaloupe shakes will be back next year or so, if I had to guess."

"What a goddamn shame. Whitney's too smart for her own good." Tyrus sighs, reclines, and loops his arms over the booth-back. He nods at you all. "Well. Eat up. I'm fixing to get you home before 10. Marquis wants to go to the farmer's mar--"

Suddenly the wall behind you is gone, demolished -- as the front fender of a semi careens through it amid horrific cacophony.

Well. Shit.

>>4949479
Heh, muh based Will.

Also, AAAAAAAAAA

>>4949479
muh based Wh-

what the FUCK

>>4949479
Oh no, Shake 'Em Up got the Rutabaga Curse.

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Tyrus is on his feet and drawing a pistol from a holster concealed in his jacket before the rest of the patrons have even found the wherewithal to start shrieking. Then as people go scurrying back and forth in animal panic, Tyrus levels his weapon on the man stepping from the semi's cab. The man is wearing a many-eyed mask -- but his creepy, frail, pale, gangly frame clocks him as Samuel Buridan for sure.

Buridan grabs Tyrus's arm and locks it in place, then punches Tyrus in the nose. Tyrus knees him in the groin, but it doesn't deter him for a moment. He just uses his grip on Tyrus's arm for leverage, to push Tyrus back and propel himself forward -- towards a stunned Amelia.

"You're coming with me," Buridan tells her.

Two of Buridan's companions emerge, stepping over the rubble of wrecked booths and dangling ceiling tiles, appearing from behind a miasma of swirling plaster dust. These men are also masked, and they carry shotguns. Tyrus fires at them. His aim is true. He hits one in the head, killing him instantly. The other he forces back to the cover of the cab's passenger-side door. This gives him time enough to turn and barrel into Burdian, tackling him before Burdian can take Amelia. They roll around on the ground.

"We're going, we're going, we're going," Amber repeats, shooing Will to his feet, and trying to flee. "Come on! Let's go!"

But Lily has other concerns. Shouting "Daddy--!" She pulls her own piece and runs over to where Tyrus and Burdian tussle on the floor. She can't take a safe shot, and seems frozen with indecision.

"Behind you--!" Amelia shouts, and fails to catch Lily's attention. So she runs to Lily and, grabbing her around the shoulders, spins her out of the way of the re-approaching Instrumentalist who's no longer being forced into cover. The report of his shotgun nearly deafens you. But it snaps you out of your daze. You leap from your seat and stomp him in the foot, taking him enough by surprise that Lily can shoot him in the gut. Lily shrieks at what she herself has done as the man falls backward, good as dead, and his shotgun fires one last time into the ceiling above, raining chunks of plaster and fiberglass down on you all like confetti.

>>4949523
NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE

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Another group of masked thugs enters from the store's main entrance, filing past the rapidly fleeing patrons of Shake 'em Up. They wield rifles and adopt a sort of phalanx formation. Tyrus wrests control of his pistol back from Buridan and shoots him in the chest -- but Buridan is as unfazed as if he'd been sneezed on, and bleeding horribly, he finds his way to his feet.

Amber leaps for him next, latching onto him like a rabid Rhesus, but he punches her in the jaw, knocking her off of him.

He grabs Amelia by the wrist. "Now," he says -- a single, simple command.

Tyrus, bloodied but determined, takes potshots at the newcomers, even as badly outnumbered as he may be. He'll defend his daughter with his life if he has to. But a reinforcement arrives. Gideon Denali shoots through a window, shattering it, and jumps through like a regular goddamn Batman. The Instrumentalists startle. With a carbine of his own, Gideon sprays return fire at the Instrumentalists, downing a couple, and forcing the remaining troupe to retreat. And then, fearless, shoulder to shoulder with Tyrus, he advances on them, and eliminates them one by one.

Buridan meanwhile has Amelia in the front cab of the semi. He tosses her in like a sack of potatoes, and hops into the driver's seat again. As he throws the truck into gear, though, you sneak around the side, climb up onto the little chrome step below the passenger door, and swing it open. You grab Amelia by the arm and haul her back out again just as the semi reverses through the mound of rubble it made.

Buridan slams the brakes so hard they make a pneumatic shriek. Through the dusty windshield, you see him peel back his mask and coldly assess the scene before him: You, Lily, Amber, and Will circling the wagons, guns in hand -- with Gideon and Tyrus bringing up the rear.

Gideon and Buridan lock eyes. They stare at each other for a lingering moment. Tyrus keeps his gun trained on the windshield. But you know that he knows - if Buridan decides to ram the truck into drive and pound the gas pedal, there would be no stopping him from turning you all into pancakes.

Instead, Buridan continues to reverse, and then speeds off.

"Motherfucker!" Tyrus shouts, running through the hole in the wall as if he'll be able to catch him. Buridan is already turning back onto the main road.

>>4949530
I fucking hate it, but at least for once we've managed to get through one of these situations without someone getting kidnapped.

>>4949530
Am I misunderstanding or did everyone just stare at Buridan, point their guns at him, and then just watch him drive away

(Badass tho)

>>4949530
Why the he do they want Amelia though?

>>4949541
... You all got what I meant.

>>4949541
If you can't get Olivia she's the next best thing, right?

>>4949548
I mean yeah, I guess, but still. Guess he hasn't figured out the Soliloquy girls are his main target yet.

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"Are you okay, Daddy?" Lily pleads as Tyrus stumbles back into the diner.

He brushes past his daughter, wiping the blood from his lip, and grabs Buridan by the collar. "You set this up, motherfucker?"

"Does it look like I set it up?" Gideon demands, tugging himself free of Tyrus. "Jesus Christ. I just saved your life. I'm not your enemy!"

"Where is he going?" Tyrus asks.

"Whatever scum-filled pond he lives in. Man's a fucking amphibian." Gideon taps his temple with all four fingertips of one hand. "He doesn't think like a normal human being, so don't bother trying to track him like one -- trust me. He'll show up."

"You're coming with me," Tyrus says.

But Gideon steps back, leveling his carbine on Tyrus.

"Put that down, asshole!" Lily shouts, raising her own gun.

"You've got one choice here," Tyrus says. "You can put that gun down and extend your life by at least an hour or two, or you can fire at one of us and get your stupid ass killed when my men coming pulling up in about--"

The roar of engines fills the parking lot outside.

"--In about now," Tyrus says.

Gideon lowers his rifle.

>>4949548
Kinda makes me even more worried in that case. What's stopping the Instrumentalists from going directly for Olivia? Unless, they already got to her or they're doing a simultaneous grab for her while all this is going down.

>>4949558
>He brushes past his daughter, wiping the blood from his lip, and grabs Buridan by the collar. "You set this up, motherfucker?"
>"Does it look like I set it up?" Gideon demands, tugging himself free of Tyrus. "Jesus Christ. I just saved your life. I'm not your enemy!"
oops

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A badly battle-scarred woman approaches. "Take this asshole before the cops show," Tyrus instructs her.

"With pleasure," the woman says, voice thickly accented -- Russian, you guess. She nods at Gideon, who, humiliated, hands her his rifle. She leads him towards the disused side exit.

The half-destroyed diner is filling with faces only barely friendlier than those masked Instrumentalists. But although Tyrus's men may look a little roughshod, they're a properly deputized private security force, all of them -- and they start to set up a secure perimeter around the parking lot even as the whine of police sirens draws close.

Amid the commotion, Amelia disappears behind the service counter and into the kitchen. With Tyrus distracted by his just-arrived husband's fussing and fretting over his bleeding face, you take the chance to sneak back there with her. Of course, Amber follows.

"Where are you going?" You demand. Amelia, halfway to the rear exit, wheels on you.

Her voice quavers. "He's going after Olivia."

"How do you know?"

"I don't," Amelia admits. "I'm -- I'm just guessing. But if he is, and I just.. sit around, letting it happen..." She wipes her face and steadies her voice. "Stay here, Wes. Do you understand me? Stay here."

"BRB?" Tyrus says.

Amber startles. Turning, balling her fists, she shouts: "God damn it. How the fuck are you everywhere?"

Amelia nods at him. "Yeah. Olivia lives there, too."

"I can send some folks. Police, too, if it'll make you feel safer."

"Do that," Amelia says. "I'll be there waiting."

She hurries for the exit and slips out. You glance at Amber. Amber nods. Then back at Tyrus. Tyrus shakes his head.

Frankly, you're more afraid of facing your parents again than you would be heading into the heart of danger with Amelia.

>>4949578
I get what Amelia's thinking, but having both their priority targets under one roof is just asking for trouble

>>4949578
Can we send Amelia with like fifteen bodyguards please

>>4949539
He just shrugged off being shot in the Gut. Then in the Chest. To DO either of those you need some major goddamned body armor, let alone both together. But then he DRIVES the fuck off in a Semi-Tractor Trailer.
This fucking guy is the fucking skinny albino Terminator.

>>4949585
This but more.

>>4949585
Can't see what fifteen men could do if Sam comes her way again. By all evidence, the man is bulletproof. And immune to nutshots.

>>4949587
>>4949598
Listen, even if he's a goddamn robot, SOME part of him will disable him if you shoot it enough

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Tyrus defrays tensions with the police when they show up and want to collect witness statements. When challenged over his right to take you all away from the crime scene, he puts his broad palm against a police officer's chest -- pushing him backwards, ballsy as all hell. "No, you listen," Tyrus says. "These girls here are badl--"

"And boy," Will says, peeking around Tyrus's shoulder, holding up an index finger.

Tyrus gives Will an annoyed look. Then continues to the officer: "These girls and one boy are badly shaken after today's events. They deserve to go back home to their families." The cop begins to speak again, but Tyrus, again, cuts him off: "They will provide written statements only after they have had a chance to rest their very weary heads, hear? And if you don't understand the victims' rights coming out of my mouth, which I understand you boys in blue can sometimes struggle with, then you're free to talk to my attorneys, Mr. and Mrs. Saul Mallory." Hands on hips, he turns in a semicircle, surveying the scene. "Now we've done you gentlemen a favor, setting up a secure perimeter and preventing a heap of civilian casualties. Security cam footage will corroborate the facts as I'm laying them out to you -- you following me? -- now I don't want any trouble, so I am asking you to kindly step aside and allow me to take these girls home."

"And boy," Will says.

"And boy," Tyrus says with a flourish, nodding.

---

In the driver's seat of his spacious beamer, Tyrus pauses a moment before pulling out of the parking lot. He sits there with his lips pinched between his thumb and the crook of his index finger, contemplating. Finally, all he can say is: "I don't even know what to say to you."

"Is Mel going to be safe?" You ask.

He turns in his seat. "I have guys on it. But she's not my priority."

"She should be," Amber says. "Buridan wanted her for a reason."

Tyrus's eyeballs swivel in their sockets, glaring now at Amber. "Yeah. And we'll know why, once we beat it out of Gideon."

You wince.

"What?" Tyrus demands.

You can't help thinking about Summer: currently cheering on PAP's football team, totally oblivious of her father's imminent torture at the hands of your father's private security.

And Winter, too... who's... at Bosphorus Rare Books? She works an early shift there on weekends.

[ ] Ask to be allowed to speak to Gideon.
[ ] Find a way to escape, and catch up with Amelia.
[ ] Find a way to escape, and infiltrate the meeting at Darkbloom Enterprises.

>>4949613
>[x] Ask to be allowed to speak to Gideon.

He did legit help us out, I'd like to at least nail down his motives already.

>>4949613
>[X] Ask to be allowed to speak to Gideon.
As much as I love Mel I don't know how we could possibly help her at this juncture. (I mean, besides some good old fashioned sexual healing)

>>4949613
>[ ] Find a way to escape, and infiltrate the meeting at Darkbloom Enterprises.
Fuck it.

>>4949613
>[x] Find a way to escape, and catch up with Amelia
Gideon may be on our side per se, but we already know he isn't above manipulating us to fulfill his own agenda. I say we leave him in the hands of Tyrus's boys.

>>4949613
Someone from the BRB gang must have a phone at least, right? Give them a call at least.

>[ ] Ask to be allowed to speak to Gideon.

>>4949613
[ ] Ask to be allowed to speak to Gideon.

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>[x] Ask to be allowed to speak to Gideon.

"Lemme think about that," Tyrus says. "No."

He turns his blinker on and drives out onto the main road.

"No, really," you say.

"And the answer is no -- really."

"He trusts me," you say. "I don't know why. But he might actually talk to me if you let him. And if that doesn't work, then fine, do whatever you were already planning to do."

Tyrus rolls his jaw. "Why this so important to you?"

"He's my girlfriend's dad."

"Everybody somebody's dad, or brother, or sister -- or daughter. Gideon made this mess for himself, and you won't fix it just by trying to talk some sense into him. His wife couldn't, his kids couldn't -- you won't either."

"Why not let me try?" You say.

"Because it's a waste of precious time. For starters."

"Doesn't it bother you even a little?" Lily says, seated next to her father up front.

Tyrus glances at her. "I'd say you on thin ice right about now, but you already done broke through it. Don't speak unless spoken to."

Lily ignores him. "Doesn't it bother you that David Darkbloom is so connected to this thing and your boss doesn't even see fit to tell you what's up? I'd be pissed if I were you."

"I'm pissed all right," Tyrus says.

Lily rolls her eyes, rests her cheek on her fist, and stares out the window of the passenger side.

There's a long, depressed silence.

"Ey, Will -- your parents expecting you?" Tyrus asks.

He laughs. "They'd have to know I was gone to be expecting me."

Tyrus nods. "Jeeves -- dial Noelle Keki."

"Mmmyes, sir," the voice from the car's center console says.

N-Mom picks up before the first ring is through. "Tyrus? What's going on? Is Wes okay--"

"She's with me. They all are. I'm taking them home, but the cops wanted their written statements. It'll be about an hour."

"Please hurry," N-Mom says.

"Yeah."

He ends the call. He turns to you. "With the drive time factored in, you'll have about 30 minutes. Best make it count."

>>4949637
Oh boy oh boy

>>4949637
Thanks Kang.

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It's a perfectly nondescript little condo in one of the many nondescript tracts of cookie-cutter condos littering the valley. But inside is totally bare and unfurnished, save a single chair in which Gideon is seated, and a single table upon which you spy an array of frightening devices meant for inflicting pain both physical and psychological.

The Russian woman from before turns and glowers. "Why did you bring Lily to this place?"

"Uhhh?" Lily says. "And who the fuck are you?"

"You-- insolent--" the woman begins, stepping forward. Tyrus puts a hand on her shoulder.

"Time's short," he says. "Wesley has a personal connection to the man, so before we try the waterboarding and the pear of paining and whatnot, let's try some more diplomatic tactics, yeah?"

The woman huffs. "You want to speak with this man, little girl? Fine. I charge Mr. Kang by the minute, so the more time you waste, the bigger my paycheck. Go right ahead."

Gideon isn't bound -- he sits ankle on knee, smoking a cigarette. You approach, coughing for the smoke, waving a hand in front of your face to help dissipate it.

"It's nice you're so concerned, Wes," Gideon says. "But I don't see me getting out of this with all my teeth in my skull. You might want to just leave now."

"Is Buridan going after Olivia?" You ask.

"I don't know. Does Olivia speak 19th century dialects of Siberian Russian?"

"Uhhh."

"He's probably not going for her right away, if at all. Tyrus nicked him good. Collapsed a lung if I had to guess. Most likely he ditched the truck somewhere toot sweet and carjacked some other unlucky motorist. Drove far enough to get out of the police dragnet and now he's patching himself up."

"You think this man is capable of self-mending a collapsed lung?" The woman demands.

"Seen him do it before," Gideon says, shrugging.

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"How did you know?" You ask.

"Know what?"

"That he'd come after us at the diner. How'd you know?"

"I didn't. I was following you."

"What?"

"I was following you. I figured you were on your way to the big powwow. Wanted to rendezvous when you got there. Then it went tits up. Such is life."

"Buridan's hiding out somewhere," Tyrus says. "He has a place to lay low. Where?"

Gideon takes a long drag. "If I knew that, he'd be dead. I've checked the usual haunts. If he's been hurt good enough, and he's desperate enough... you might try checking in with his family."

"Talia?" You ask, heart thudding.

Gideon laughs. "I don't think Buridan would ask Talia to hand him an extinguisher if he was on fire. We never talked much about our personal lives, but that blood is bad. If he needs familial succor, he's with his parents -- or maybe his uncle."

"Nelson..." you mutter. "Of course. He's one of David's board members."

But you know Nelson Berenstoin. Even if only in passing. Hard to picture him sheltering a wounded lunatic like Sam Buridan.

Gideon tilts his head and looks you in the eye. "Doubting?" He says. "I've only known Buridan's real identity since Talia outed him to the authorities. He kept that part of himself well hidden from me. So I could be misreading the situation. You probably have a better handle on it than I do."

Gideon glances from face to skeptical face. "I'm fully cooperating here, you know. I'd really prefer it if you don't start dunking my head in pails of cold water just because I don't have every answer."

Tyrus hands him a pen and paper. "Names and addresses. Places you know he's used as hideouts in the past. Known associates. Everything."

"Sure." He moves his cigarette to one side of his mouth by wriggling his lips, balances the paper on his crossed knee, and starts to write.

>Is there anything else you would like to ask Gideon at this time?

>>4949677
>"Seen him do it before," Gideon says, shrugging.

Uh.

>>4949677
>"Seen him do it before," Gideon says, shrugging.
Uhh
>the pear of paining
UHHH

>>4949685
What do you know about this prophecy he's after?

>>4949685
>Is there anything else you would like to ask Gideon at this time?
What's the protocol for the cultist powwow?
Any information about why they're meeting at Darkbloom Enterprises?
Who else we should be worried about?
Any other advice for funneling them into the nearest police station/shallow grave?

>>4949685
>Is there anything else you would like to ask Gideon at this time?
"Seen him do it before?" How?

>>4949685

>>4949694
>What's the protocol for the cultist powwow?
This. I imagine just turning up wearing the mask isn't gonna guarantee entry.

Also, grill for more deets on the Absalom connection to the Instrumentalists.

>>4949685
>Does Amelia have a prior connection to the Instrumentalists?

>>4949703
Thirding this.

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"What do you know about this prophecy he's after?" You ask.

"Mm." He pulls his cigarette from his lips and points at you with it. "Instrumentalism is all about the world-as-it-is versus the world-as-it-could-be. They look for what they consider gaps in established history -- places, people, events that appeared or disappeared from the historical record without apparent explanation. Mandela effect shit. Well. They got themselves fixated on this ill-fated expedition in the arctic sea and a bunch of blokes from it that went bughouse. Artifacts from these people are considered kind of like... gnostic texts. There's a lot of energy spent on interpreting, and not a lot of actual, uh, solid answers. What they're gleaning from this prophecy is anyone's guess. I couldn't glean anything from it and I've been turning it over in my head for weeks now. Guessing that's why they want Amelia's help again."

"You sound quite disillusioned for a man who was once so close to this religion's inner workings," the woman says.

"I grew up poor in rural Alaska, Ms. Lebedev. I had no prospects, and no wealth. When my people called on me to be their medicine man, I turned tail and ran. Then the Instrumentalists came by and gave me direction. They showed me a miracle."

"What miracle?" You ask.

"The world-as-it-could-be... the world-as-it-was. They taught me how to remember my past life. I won't bother boring you with the details. You won't care or even believe me. And it's deeply personal stuff. But I know what I've seen is true. Even if the Instrumentalists are mostly insane psychopaths."

"Why are they meeting at Darkbloom Enterprises?" You ask.

Gideon nods. "Right question. Because the event is being sponsored by David Darkbloom. That's why."

"Is he their leader?" Amber demands, taking a step forward.

Gideon chuckles. "No. Absalom Abrams is. David Darkbloom is just a lackey."

Amber exhales, shakes her head, looks away. She seems almost offended at the idea that David Darkbloom isn't the mastermind.

"What's the protocol for this meeting -- any codes or signals or anything like that to get in?" You ask.

"Don the mask to lift the veil."

"What?" You say.

"Don the mask to lift the veil," he repeats. "Purge the belly of the whale... a little nursery rhyme they use as a shibboleth. Other than that, nothing. The mask itself is your ticket inside. They don't give 'em to just anyone."

"You're not going," Tyrus reminds you.

You glance over your shoulder. "Someone should." You look back at Gideon. "Does Amelia have anything else to do with these people? Other than being a convenient translator?"

"They've decided she's important. Bad news for her. She shouldn't have been so willing to sell them their mystic trinkets."

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"Uhhh -- hey -- you guys mind if I, like, skedaddle?" Will asks, pointing at the door with his thumb. "I'm getting kinda hungry."

Tyrus gives him a what-the-fuck expression. "Sure, kid. Go."

Will hurries out. "Good luck with not dying to a cult," he says, hugging you and Amber in turn. "See ya Monday. Don't forget to do my math for me, Amb. I'll get you some beer."

"The stupidity of Americans is truly unbounded," the Russian marvels as the door shuts behind Will.

"Stasi, c'mon," Tyrus says.

"You're Stasi," you say, standing. "Aunt Vivian mentioned you. And -- you were with Dad the other day at the bookstore, right?"

She shrugs.

"Small world," Gideon says. "You never know who you're going to run into."

You turn your attention back to him. "Is there anything else we should be worried about? Anything else we should know about the Instrumentalists?"

Now it's Gideon's turn to shrug. "Dunno. Not if you're not important, under their reckoning." His eyes dart around searchingly. "Something tells me you are, though. And you already know, and you're already worried about that."

You don't reply.

"If I were you, I'd get out of town," Gideon offers.

>>4949730
UMI TROIS TIME

BACK TO PALAU, LADS

>>4949730
Uh, Will? Our getaway driver? HELLO?

>Aunt Vivian mentioned you

Yes, hello, would like an elaboration here.

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"I ought to take you girls home," Tyrus says. "Go wait in the car. Freddy's outside, so don't think of running off. I'll be out in a minute."

You step outside. As promised, Freddy is standing guard at the condo's front door. All six foot four of him. He gives you all a dour look as you pass.

But as you go to the car, you see Will already sitting in it. He hasn't left for home after all. And when you get in with him -- he holds the keys up for you to see. He must have pick-pocketed them from Tyrus.

"Will -- you stupid genius," Amber says. "I love you!"

This shocks the grin right off his face. He's even more shocked when she hugs him.

"What are you waiting for?" She shouts, pulling back from the hug. "Fuckin' gun it! Before Lily's gay-ass dad comes back!"

[ ] Go to the meeting.
[ ] Stop them.

>>4949736
>[X] Go to the meeting.
The narrative demands it.

...let's try not to get killed too hard, though

>>4949736
Oh god

Oh my GOD

This is the worst idea we've ever fucking had.

>[x] Go to the meeting.

ALL ABOARD, MOTHERFUCKERS.

>>4949736
>[ ] Stop them.
Sorry Amber, Will. But we only have one mask.

>>4949361
Finished FQ after a year anon here from the end of last thread, and now caught up on WBA. There's a few things I'd like to talk about, now that this story has collided with its plot and is barreling towards an unknown resolution. A bit of reflection on FQ and everything else. Please indulge me, for I have a lot to say.

I adore Fuck Quest. I actually didn't vibe with the fucking at first, but like everyone's obsession with Ally's cock, it grew on me. Reading the threads where sex scene after sex scene piled on top of each other in a metatextual orgy was absolutely wild. Even when One Shot Ally was unintentionally making most scenes fit the same general beats, the same general flow, there was always a lovely bit of intimacy or comedy or character growth running through the smut. (Obviously, this part only got developed further the more the quest strayed from being an /a/ meme romp banished twice over. I think the best thing that happened to Fuck Quest was the day it died. It gave OP a reason to properly revive it years later, didn't it?)

Some of the scenes are undeniably iconic, and better yet, personally so for everyone that read them. So much so that OP couldn't stop a bit of extra self-indulgence and run them through a second time in season 4. Funny, how great it is to read something that's so very obviously enjoyed by the person writing it, AND hits on thematic and almost metatextual qualities of the work as a whole.

>>4949740
Self-indulgence turned textual weight to the messages of the story. It's such a neat trick, OP, and it's something you deserve so much praise over. Especially for how quests always are: partially improvised hodgepodges of planned material and fun voter surprises. Even tied votes are treated with a cheeky respect that defines almost the entire experience.

Of course, there were mishaps. Parts of the narrative where pacing tanks and engagement got a bit flimsy. I was one of those who drifted off during season 3, during a thread where there was just TOO much sex. I can only be so horny boss! I lost track of what was happening for over a year and a half after that, which is a damn shame. The dual thread experience of the VR/Sand Reckoner/whatever reenactment of season 1 was absolutely incredible, and I'm ashamed to admit that I missed the masterclass upgrade to that in season 4.

But still, the story lost me. The characters weren't charming enough during the lull to tide me along, and I lost Fuck Quest for about half of season 3 and all of season 4.

And fuck me, was it glorious to come back way later and read everything I didn't even REALIZE I missed.

I acquired an ebook of The Unbearable Lightness of Being, entirely independently of Fuck Quest during my time away from it. I read through all of it, completely unaware of its fundemental connection to FQ until after I came back and, hey, wait, this is practically required reading for the text! Or at the very least, highly advised to get a better understanding.

The best part is that for every character shown to be reading the book, I feel there's a level of.. misinterpretation. The Unbearable Lightness of Being is, in my reading at least, a wholesale rejection of the concept of Eternal Recurrence. It looks at the looping of experiences and lives and all the rest and says, no. There is only this one life. To pull a quote because I happened to be reading the book tonight, basically the core message in summary:

"And therein lies the whole of man's plight. Human time does not turn in a circle; it runs ahead in a straight line. That is why man cannot be happy: happiness is the longing for repetition."

>>4949736
>[ ] Go to the meeting.
When there's a Will, as they say.

>>4949741
This repetition is also framed as lacking development. People will perform the same actions again and again, and while they will claim to be happy, to live isn't to putter in place for eternity. People don't have an eternity of their life running on repeat, and so it makes sense that every single character in FQ has a different stance on this idea. Everyone represents a different path, a different perspective.

Of course, we know the truth of FQ's world. The absolute state of Alabaster, surrounded by the sexiest and smartest girls and boys in all universes. You wanted FQ to be an artifact of chan culture worthy of analysis and, perhaps, a label as "literature", OP? I think the fact that I am drawn to compare the ideas presented between your work and this one novel is a sign that you've more than achieved your goal-- and that isn't even scratching the surface of what can be said!

The Unbearable Lightness of Being is a fantastic comparison point to FQ. From the political and societal critiques framed as darkly humorous jokes and anecdotes, to the questions about fidelity and relationships and what it means to love outside of a traditional monogamous marriage. One thing I wish FQ had more time for was that latter part, actually. Then again, FQ runs on anime harem logic at its core, so I don't blame you at all for.. expediting characters into The Fuck.

WBA suffers from this as well, actually. It was a fantastic chance to dig more into how dating someone who cannot stop drowning in pussy all the time affects someone. Even if they end up finding it hot, plus whatever more-liberal views a future America has on sex in the FQ-verse. But, then again, these are very hard questions, and this is at its heart a quest about fucking nearly every cute boy and girl and cousin (once removed) and sister and mom that exists on screen at any time. A bit of hyperrealism and rule-of-smut is expected!

It's just a shame that the characters are so fucking engaging that I want to see more of their struggles about the sex and intimacy and getting to know and understand one another. Most of the disagreements have been absolutely fantastic. Alabaster and Gal's relationship is highlight of the entire series (yes you're officially a series now, congrats!). And it's a sidebar, a minor plot relevant character, with a relationship built on.. abuse, honestly. Some real hatred that cooled with time and transformed into a love unique to every other relationship in the cast. She went from a hatefuck with a twinge of compassion to being a core part of the cast. From absolute fucking villain to.. "Please come and fuck my sister, forever".

>>4949744
All the characters are not just cock slaves who's minds are tethered to the protagonists' nethers, who can do nothing else but suck and fuck and beg for more. Akun/fiction.live has a real issue of characters being just that, and an anime harem quest is the PERFECT stereotype for just that. FQ has always wholesale rejected that idea and, honestly? It's forever better for it. I can't even get into how this single fact is the primary reason why the plots for seasons 2-4 hit as hard as they do.

There's a foundational respect for each and every character that everything else is built upon. Even if their horniness is dialed up to maximum most of the time, that horniess never defines them. It simply is an important feature for the tapestry that is their character.

Take pride in that, OP.

There's more I can say, of course. Like how the humor is a rare breed of written fiction that can send me cackling for hours after reading it. How the callbacks are, frankly, unfairly good, and strike that balance between self-indulgence and classy thematic/characterization consistency amazingly well. There's too much for me to gush about here.

Girls are loveable even when they're being massive bitches, boys deserve every ounce of love and affection, and OTP of all of FQ is Armstrong and Nelson.

Now, with a whole new cast place beside the original, it's fantastic to see that the charm of FQ isn't tied to how much time was spent with its characters alone. WBA obviously isn't as fleshed out yet, and may likely never reach the same levels. And that's okay.

You don't need to try and do FQ again. You did it. The End of Fuck as we know it has come to pass.

Funny that in a story where the eternal recurrence is made fact to our world, for us reading it? We will only get one Fuck Quest. This is ours. It'll forever be special for this small slice of the world who were lucky enough to read it.

For everyone who read this exposé of the heart, I hope you find something in it that affirms how much this quest meant to you. Even if it's just how much it made you cum.

>>4949736
Small essay aside, let's GET IN ON THIS.

>[X] Go to the meeting.

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>>4949740
>>4949741
>>4949744
>>4949745
Yeah yeah, we get it, we're all gay for OP here, Anonymous-dono, you sussy baka.

In all seriousness though, thanks for sharing your thoughts!

>>4949736
>[x] Go to the meeting.
All aboard the bad ideas train!

>>4949745
My man really wrote an essay on our cheeky little smut quest.

Good shit, anon. Good shit. I wholeheartedly agree that OP's development of these characters (who in any other lewd quest would be nothing more than recepticles for their respective fetishes) is what keeps me coming back time and time again.

>>4949736
>[X] Go to the meeting.
NO BRAKES FULL SPEED

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Talia hears it first. Looking up from the papers she's grading, she sees her doorknob jiggling. She grabs the knife she's been keeping by her side at all times these past days.

Buridan makes quick work of the lock -- picks it, and steps inside. His gait is like a zombie's, his shirt completely saturated with blood, and every breath he takes makes him whistle weirdly from the hole in his chest.

He levels his gun on her. His hand is shaking but she knows his aim won't suffer for it. Talia glances from gun to knife. There's a saying about this. She drops the knife.

Buridan sits down on her couch, just as she rises to her feet. Immediately the cushions become stained with what seems like pints and pints of blood.

Talia reaches down, testingly, and runs a couple fingers across the hole in Buridan's chest. She darts her now dripping hand back, and looks at it, shocked.

Talia chews her lip. Considers options. She could run for it. She could grab the knife and plunge it into his chest. She could scream for help.

Buridan waggles his gun in the direction of the coffee table. There's a syringe sitting on it. Talia picks it up. He waggles his gun at the knife on the floor, next. Talia takes this, too, and cuts his shirt off of him. The sound of ripping fabric makes her almost as nauseated as seeing the torn flesh beneath.

The whole time she works, he keeps his gun to her temple, his finger on the trigger: if I go, you do.

She cuts the case off one of her couch pillows. The batting she uses to plug the sucking chest wound he's got; the fabric she uses to cover it. She squirts the liquid out of the syringe of her needle and keeps the plunger depressed. Slightly grunting, Buridan lifts his arm on the side where he's shot, and Talia jabs the needle into him, just above his armpit. She slowly sucks the air pressure from his chest cavity. With his lung reinflating, Buridan gasps and sputters dark red blood from his mouth, which arcs up, and rains back over Talia while she works. The whole time, the gun never leaves her head.

>>4949751
fuuuuuck this guy, jesus

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More tomorrow.

>>4949751
Jesus fucking christ I hate this guy

>>4949754
Thanks for the run as always, OP-sama! See you soon!

>>4949754
Thanks for the Run, OP.

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>>4949745
I appreciate all of your kind words and analysis. I view the cosmology of FQ as a middle-ground between Kundera's view and the Nietzschian eternal recurrence. The Optimizing Parameter sums it up:

>The being known as Alabaster Soliloquy has a definite beginning at a fixed point of time in the past -- quite distant now, but finitely so. I as well. At some as yet undetermined point in the far future, as a sort of genetic drift in every subsequent iteration of the universe occurs, you will cease to exist. I as well. We are not immortal. Just nearly so.

In the grand scheme, Alabaster and everyone else's life through the iterations of the universe is like a blown-up image of a normal human life. You do the same things over and over with small variations, although every once in a while there are major changes to your life's circumstances which bring about new things to repeat ad nauseum until the next big change, and so on. And then finally you're gone.

But this spinoff is meant to explore a couple other implications of FQ's mythos that I've been thinking about a lot, and we're only just getting into it.

It's nice to have you back. I'm tired, but I loved reading your thoughts.

>>4949754
Rest well! Hopefully my little essay gives you strength.

Also, goddamn does Buridan hit different from everyone else. I'm excited to see what's next!

>>4949763
Good to hear! Like I said, I have a frankly silly amount I could talk about regarding FQ. It as middle ground is definitely a fascinating place, and there's definitely more in WBA we can poke at. More essays another time maybe, who knows!

The time is now 4:22 AM!

So many posts in this thread to shadowrun in, and I don't know where to start.

>>4949799
DE being on fire? How many people are following Wes at any give time? Why does that nip cunt hate our bubblegum princess so much? How close are Buridan and Talia *really*? Is Olivia okay? What the hell does the prophecy even actually say about us? Where's Ophelia *right now*? How is Absalom using Darkbloom and does Darkbloom realize it?

Nah, not that many.

Hey OP, if 422 isn’t as good as it previously seemed to be, who got the Jeopardy job after Trebek passed in this universe?

Can’t think of someone worse than the milquetoast EP Mike Richards seeming to be the front runner to get it right now…

>>4950506
In a truly ideal universe, Alex Trebek lived a long, healthy life, passing away peacefully and surrounded by family at the ripe old age of 115.

He is then replaced by Trebek-tan is the new Eternal Host of all gameshows ever.

>>4950525
I’ll drink to that

>>4949751
So he's not invincible so much as he can completely ignore the pain. What's that zen buddhist line about the flames being cool and refreshing for one who keeps their thoughts quiet? Might be the case here. Come to think of it; he mentioned something about needing to feel pain to the guy who shot Cerise.
>>4950525
...Trebek-Tan is just the Optimizing Parameter in a suit, isn't she?

>>4950600
Shhhh, nobody can know.

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Will clambers over and into the driver's seat, triggering the pushbutton ignition at the same time. He puts the car in reverse and peels out of the driveway so fast that he leaves burn marks on the concrete. Amber slaps Will's seatback like bongos, shouting "gogogogo!" -- all hopped up on adrenaline. But Freddy has a pretty good reaction time and thinks quick on his feet. He draws his sidearm and shoots out the BMW's left front tire in the moment of inertia when Will switches from R to D. The whole car lurches violently and sags towards that side. The skittery squeal of the bare rim on the asphalt makes your ears hurt.

The last thing you glimpse as Will races down the sleepy residential street towards one of Palo's main thoroughfares, sparks flying behind you, is Tyrus and Stasi dashing out from the condo, livid and shouting after you.

"WOOOOOOO-OOOOOOO!" Amber wails, exultant.

"Shut up! You shut the fuck up, Amber!" Lily says. She reaches into the back of the car and punches Amber in the shoulder. "Crazy ass!"

"Bitch!" Amber says, kicking Lily's seat.

Lily punches Will in the shoulder, next, too.

"Ow-- hey!" Will grunts, swatting at Lily in the passenger seat, but keeping his eyes on the road.

"Crazy ass!" Lily repeats. "You trying to get us actually killed?"

Will is going at least 20 over the speed limit, swerving in and among cars -- trying to put maximal distance between himself and the doubtlessly pursuing Tyrus.

"Are we gonna make it there on a rim?" You ask, watching the red and orange sparks raining in the car's wake.

"Sure," Will says. "Might fuck the axle, but it'll get us there. No probl--"

The car slams to a halt. Right in the middle of the road. Cars honk and veer to avoid you.

"The fuck?" Amber says, after taking a moment to get over the whiplash.

Will, confused, pumps the gas and fiddles with the gearshift. He tries the ignition. Nothing.

"Anti-theft system," Lily says. "Goddamn it..."

She tries the door. It won't open. You try yours -- same result. You're locked inside.

"God, I am real fucking sick of Tyrus Kang," Amber says. She curls up in her seat, resting on her tailbone, and kicks at her window repeatedly. But there's no way she can take it out.

>>4950605
WELP

So much for that!

>>4950605
Ahahahaha

Man we SUCK at this.

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Will's eyes in the rearview go wild. "Is that your dad, Lily?"

Lily rests an arm on her headrest and twists around to see. You check, too. A black sedan is speeding down the road, maybe a quarter mile away, and gaining fast.

Letting out a groan of sheer frustration, out of ideas, Amber pulls her pistol and puts it against the window on her side.

"WAIT!" Lily yells. She falls forward to grab Amber's wrist and stop her from shooting. "Are you fucking stupid? You won't break the window! They're bulletproof! You'll just blow out our fucking eardrums!"

"Fuck you!" Amber shouts, but Lily has her gun well in hand.

Lily reaches between her knees for the glovebox. It's locked, too. But a glovebox is much easier to jimmy than a car window. Lily takes a multitool from her pocket. She puts the tip of the tool's awl to the glovebox's lock, and the heel of her hand to the multitool's handle. She gives it a swift jab, and breaks the lock. The glovebox pops open. Reaching in, fishing around, she produces a bright orange device of some kind. You're not sure what it is. But when Lily puts it against the window's base and presses a button, the window shatters into a billion pieces.

Lily climbs out of the demolished window, and the rest of you follow.

"What is that thing?" Will marvels, sweeping little pieces of the window's tempered glass off his shirt. "Some kinda window knocker outer?"

"...Yeah," Lily says. "For emergencies. Like your car sinking in a river say."

"Shut up! Run!" Amber commands. But you'll never outrun Tyrus. You need wheels.

>>4950617
Oh no.

Are we about to go full GTA VIII?

>>4950617
>>4950623
Wesley's Bizarre Adventure, Episode 9: "The Gang Goes To Juvy"

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You don't run for the sidewalk as your friends do. You slowly and deliberately stride into the path of oncoming traffic.

Facing forward, you end up before the fender a late-model Prius driven by a young man in business casual. He has a scruffy five o'clock shadow and dark bags under his eyes, and after he slams his brakes, he reacts as if he must be hallucinating from a lack of sleep -- gawking at you in a mix of bewilderment and frustration. He lifts his hands from the steering wheel, gesticulating at you.

You walk around the side of the car, up to the door, and knock on his window.

"Wes!" Amber yells. "WES! What are you doing? Come on!"

He rolls down his window. You reach in and open his door from the inside, then pull your gun on him. "Car's mine now. Get out."

"Uh, what?" The man says, not exactly cooperative. The situation is too bizarre for him to comprehend right away. So you help him out. You cock the hammer. This gets him going. He undoes his seatbelt and keeps his hands above his head, saying, "all right, all right, I'm out." He hands you his keys, stepping aside. You get in.

You motion for the others to join you. All three of them do. Slamming the door shut again, you pop a bitch and continue on down the road, just as Tyrus is pulling up with Freddy.

In the rearview, you see them ushering the man you carjacked out of the road. Tyrus is talking to him. You don't know what the hush money payment's going to total for your dad, but you're guessing he'll be pretty fucking upset.

"You play -- way too much GTA," Will says.

"Teaches important life skills..." you say.

"CRAZY!" Lily shrieks. She's breathless and bugeyed. "FUCK!"

"You're still in the car with me, aren't you?" You say, calm as calm. It's weird. You shouldn't be calm. But you are. Lily, screaming, plays some shadowboxing with the visor.

There's a brief silence.

"Assuming that we get out of this alive?" Amber says, peering at you from around the seat. "I am going to eat your ass for 12 straight hours tonight."

>>4950629
WES YOU CANNOT BE FUCKING SERIOUS

>>4950629
JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

>>4950629
Damn, we really are completely fucking boned huh

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It starts to drizzle on your way to Darkbloom Enterprises.

"You want me to drive?" Will asks.

"No," you say.

"But I'm the wheelman."

"Will. Shut up."

"Man... this is crap." He slumps back in his seat, petulant.

"You can take the wheel when we get there," you say.

He blows a raspberry.

The car radio is playing a bland melange of adult contemporary at a reasonable volume. You're not aware of this fact on a conscious level -- until the radio starts to blare like an air raid siren. Then an affectless robotic announcer begins to speak.

"This is the California Emergency Broadcast System. The National Weather Service has detected the formation of an ARkStorm in the western Pacific ocean. These extremely powerful storms can cause torrential flooding and landslides, produce extreme winds in excess of 60 miles per hour, and last for several days. Those who live in low-lying areas, on or near beaches, or on hilly terrain, are advised to seek shelter. The storm system is expected to make landfall over the next three to four hours and will affect the following counties: Alameda County. Colusa County. Contra Costa County. Fresno County. ..."

The alert continues to list off basically every county in the state as you turn the volume down.

"When it rains it pours, huh?" Amber says.

"Ugh," Will says. "I hate ARkStorms..."

"Think the Instrumentalists will obey an evacuation order if the governor issues one for Santa Clara County?" You ask.

"Nah," Amber says. "I think they pretty much live for this shit."

"Hope y'all packed floaties, then," Lily mutters.

>>4950667
It is way too early in the season for this kinda atmosphere

>>4950667
Man, the future is fucking wild.

>>4950673
Anonymous-dono, we're 75% done...

>>4950675
Did OP say this was going to be a 10 episode romp? I was assuming 13, which would put us at just over the halfway mark.

Regardless, I stand by what I said.

>>4950678
I assumed 12, which puts us at me being terrible at math. Gonna cover it up quickly by posting these cool Arkstorm facts! Wow!

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/ARkStorm

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"How do we wanna approach this?" Will asks.

You're parked on the third level of the garage across from the main campus of Darkbloom Analytics. It looks relatively quiet out there. No one is visible on the streets outside or walking around in the quad. That makes sense for a Saturday morning during a severe weather advisory. But it's a little disconcerting, too.

"Tyrus can't be too far behind," you say. "It'll be best if you wait for us somewhere else. Maybe... the parking lots over by the tennis courts behind the main campus. They're out of the way. I'm thinking it'll take him a while to go looking for you there. If he even thinks to check there."

Amber leans forward in her seat, reaches into her butt pocket, and takes out a small walkie. She hands it to him.

Will presses the walkie to his cheek. "Wow. Warm."

Amber purrs in disgust. "I need to stop letting you fuck me up the ass. You're getting too attached."

Will grins at her.

"I'll be wearing mine underneath my shirt. Hold that button and cough into the speaker if you've got trouble and you want to talk to us. Sneeze if we need to get out immediately."

She puts her mask on. It has four bright sapphire eyes along each of the left and right sides, and a final, larger eye in the center of the forehead. Notably, although the mask has divots where a person's eyesockets would be, there are no eyes there at all.

Amber pauses in place as if waiting for something. When no one says anything, at last she asks: "C'mon. Wes -- Lily. Put your masks on too."

"Uh," you say.

"You have got to be shitting me," Amber says.

"Shitting you what?" Lily says. "Shitting you what, Amber?"

"You mean you guys didn't grab one back at the diner? You had so many chances!"

"What chances?!"

"THEY WERE ALL WEARING MASKS! REACH DOWN AND PICK ONE UP!" Amber yells.

"I HAD OTHER THINGS ON MY MIND!" Lily yells back.

Amber shakes her head in exasperation. Seeing her normal mannerisms paired with the face she's got on right now is... uncanny, to say the least.

"What now?" Will asks.

[ ] Send Amber in solo. Be a watchout with Lily.
[ ] Try to snag a mask for yourself and accompany Amber inside; have Lily be a watchout.
[ ] Try to snag masks for both you and Lily.

>>4950707
... god dammit, I didn't even consider it. OP making me feel like a dumbass.

[x] Try to snag a mask for yourself and accompany Amber inside; have Lily be a watchout.


need Amber ass

>>4950707
>Sneeze if we need to get out immediately
Oh yeah, good plan. Real easy to sneeze in a pinch. Quiet, too.

We're so fucked lol

>[X] Send literally anyone other than Amber in solo

>>4950707
Also
>our choice of parking spot

HELLO AGAIN
FRIEND OF A FRIEND

>>4950707
Huh. Is the mask Amber's wearing the one Gideon gave to Wes? I thought we'd have at least two prior to meeting in Shake 'Em Up: Gideon's + however Amber gets hers. Maybe through Auburn's mom or pilfered from David.

Oh well, can't leave Amber going in solo regardless.
>[ ] Try to snag a mask for yourself and accompany Amber inside; have Lily be a watchout.

>>4950731

Amber explains at the end of episode 7 that the mask she has is the same one Gideon left for Wesley in episode 5. Recall that Wesley immediately told her parents about it. We can deduce that the mask ended up in the Moms' possession and then at some point in Alabaster's.

>"Yes." She gets onto the bed with you. Straddles you. Stares viciously down at you. "Let me make myself perfectly clear. I am going. You can stay. But if you try to interfere, I will fuck you up. I'm sick of being kept in the dark about what's going on. There's a reason these cult motherfuckers are congregating at Daddy's company. There's a reason David FUCKING Darkbloom is connected to them. I'm gonna find out why. This is a recon mission -- nothing more and nothing less. Now I already swiped that mask Gideon left for you -- it was in Daddy's bedroom. We can grab another one when we get there. We'll blend in."

>>4950707
>[x] Try to snag a mask for yourself and accompany Amber inside; have Lily be a watchout.
None of these options are ones I'm comfortable with, but I'm not sure I have any idea of what I'd want to do otherwise.

Silly essay number two, because a single idea has been bouncing around my head and I gotta get it out! What better time to type it up than when I'm at work, too? Why, I'm basically getting paid to talk about FQ! How dandy.

In summary, it's a simple statement:

Whitney had to be first.

This applies to all sorts, of course. First Girl goes to Cerise, as it should be. But still, Whitney had to be first. First kiss, first lewds, first to show real attention to Alabaster, first to support him in everything he does, first to see the good in him underneath his assholeness, first and first and first...

So she had to be the first to approach him. First to try and flirt with him. First to back him up when Rose or anyone else gives him shit. Whitney is the one who isn't tied to Alabaster because of shared trauma from season 2 onwards, like he is with Cerise and Rose. I think it's safe to say that Whitney is the first to ever fall in love with Alabaster, outside of those familial relations that turn into the righteous degeneracy that makes them so tqboo and so, so sweet-- but Whitney's attraction, I feel at least, always seems to come first. She tries to show Ally how much she cares about him, first. Vivian may have her crush thanks to That Quiz Bowl Game, Rose may hate his guts in the most tsundere crush possible, and Cerise might have her attraction repressed under drunkenness, depression, and the weight of social taboos.

But Whitney is the first to openly and honestly love Alabaster, with nothing holding her back except for Alabaster's pigheadedness.

>>4950751
This is why Whitney, honestly, dominated season 1. She was practically First Girl while Cerise was the end game boss, a lovely dynamic carried over to season 2 extremely well too. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm almost certain Whitney sucked Ally's dick first even in the Rose Wins timeline-- if nothing else, the competition was fierce. All of this works as a fantastic introduction to what the story is about, fucking cute girls, while also giving us something that a lot of harem properties shirk from:

In FQ, on some level, every girl won. Maybe they didn't get Ally's ring, but they still won alongside the other girls and boy. That's honestly impressive, isn't it? Other than the Never can I Ever fuck girls, everyone won and we see in WBA the amazingly cute extended family Ally has created between his girls and himself, and the love the girls feel for each other too. The marriages in WBA are all, yes, of COURSE, even the ones that didn't officially get together in 421. Everyone slotted into place by the end, and seeing it all unfold now is delightful.

But again, why did Whitney have to be the first one? Couldn't all of this be the case if any other girl was first? Perhaps, I agree. But Whitney being first doesn't apply to only the sex and relationships and all the rest.

It also applies to the End of the End of FQ.

When Chloe and Alabaster first went on their merry drive.

Whitney had to be first.

She was the simple girl who only wanted to love and fuck and protect those she cared about. Yes, rape too, but they're always secretly asking for it so that's okay. Whitney was innocent for the longest time, and even as she was pulling some of the smartest plays of all of FQ, she was the one with good intentions. She would ride or die with Alabaster to the end. Rose as we say did this, and by the end everyone in the harem gave everything to give Alabaster the chance to fix everything. Everyone reached that point eventually, but...

Whitney had to be first. If Chloe didn't pull her trick, if Whitney wasn't the one to meet them on the way out, she would've ridden with Alabaster all the way to the lighthouse. Even if she died on the doorstep, she had the tenacity and sheer stubbornness to last alongside Alabaster as long as Rose did.

But, Rose won. It only makes sense that Whitney would be the first to be lost during the tumbling down. She was a primary stabilizing force to the harem while Alabaster was the primary attractor. Alabaster drew girls in, while Whitney led the charge in letting the girls (and boy) love the other harem members too, finding their place in the whole newly found family. Alabaster was subtly redirected from being every girl's End Goal.

>>4950752
For Chloe, Alabaster remained her end goal until the very end. Whitney was, in a more thematic way than actual text, the primary opposition to Chloe's plans. Whitney was the first who wanted to share, to be there alongside Alabaster with every single girl. Chloe wanted Alabaster to herself. Rose played into this as well, of course, since Rose Winning supplanted Whitney in so many relationship elements around Alabaster.

But again, Whitney was first, and that's so important to everything else. Whitney had to be first so Rose could win, so every other girl and boy could get their happy ending, so 422 as we see it now is as wholesome and healthy and amazing as it's become.

Whitney had to be the first to die so we could feel the knife in every reader's gut, the exact same way Alabaster did. I was legitimately struck with grief for days after reading that scene. I saw the anon who had to bail because it was too much, and that broke me even further. I was devestated. No other girl could have carried the same impact. Not even Rose, imo.

Funny, how your favorite girl can best be realized with how much it fucked you up when they're taken away. I don't think I realized how much I adored Whitney and how fundemental she is to FQ working as well as it did until she died choking on her own blood, confused as to why Alabaster murdered her. Hopefully she realized that Alabaster wasn't in control in those final moments.

Whitney is precious and amazing and the smartest girl to ever live, and it's okay that she didn't Win. It's better this way, imo. Whitney had to be first so Fuck Quest could worm its way into our hearts. Sometimes, you just need to put a boy you like in spats and force him to cum in you. Everyone's been there, right? Perfectly wholesome!

Thank you for reading Essay 2: Whitneyfag Boogaloo. I have no idea what the next topic could possibly be, but I'm sure I'll find something else that struck my heart in a way I have to talk about. There's too much already to put into words, so all I can do is write the next sentence and see where it takes me, yeah?

>>4950707
And of course, my vote.

>[X] Try to snag a mask for yourself and accompany Amber inside; have Lily be a watchout.

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>>4950757
I guess I could spoiler this for any hypothetical WBA-only readers, although I'm not sure that's a thing.

Not to dredge up painful memories, but writing Whitney's death was so horrible for me that I had a physical reaction to it. Not being a drama queen: it almost made me throw up.

For pretty much all the reasons you're laying out, Whitney did and does embody the loveliest parts of FQ: the comedy, the sex, and the affection among the cast. So she's not only a stabilizing force for the characters around her but for the readers. The times when she's at her lowest -- like when she's freaking out in China and begging to know when her mother is coming back -- are the low points of the story overall, generally. Those are sobering moments for the reader, where they realize the situation is truly dire. Whitney is supposed to be the character that reminds you, hey, this is still principally a sex comedy, we're here to have fun.

So outright killing her, and killing her so horrifically, was like killing FQ. It really felt like that. And I agree that of the major characters, she was by far the least morally compromised. She was as innocent as you can be in a story like this.

I had planned three episodes following that moment but had to cut it down to two to end things sooner. In my original concept, 4x14 would be pretty much as we saw it, 4x15 would be the journey from California to Alaska and finally to the Lighthouse, and the series finale would take place entirely in the Lighthouse. I cut a lot of the meta shit from the Lighthouse sequence to condense it into just one episode. I was wanting to run 10 or 15 threads simultaneously. But killing Whitney left me sapped of creative energy and just wanting to end the story as soon as possible.


As for the vote:

>[X] Try to snag a mask for yourself and accompany Amber inside; have Lily be a watchout.

Please wait warmly.

>>4950772
You did good, OP. You did good.

>>4950772
It was a miserable time for all of us, but it must have hit you hardest of all. ;_;7

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>[X] Try to snag a mask for yourself and accompany Amber inside; have Lily be a watchout.

"Okay, but that means we still need at least one mask," Lily says. "Got any other galaxy-brained ideas, Wes?"

The high-pitched whine of turning tires and the flash of headlights alerts you to another car driving up the parking ramp on your level. You all duck -- as if that's going to help you evade detection. But it isn't Tyrus come to apprehend you. It's a cherry red sedan with a woman at the wheel. One you recognize. She parks in a row of spaces on the other side of some concrete barriers.

"I do have another Galaxy-brained idea, actually."

---

Camelia Brantly's flats clack at a tempo somewhere between presto and prestissimo as she all but jogs towards the garage's exit ramp, head bowed. When you step out to block her, she shrieks: "AHH-AAA!!" -- and jumps back, clutching her purse.

"Whoa, hey--" you say, holding out a hand. So twitchy.

Camelia puts a palm to her breast. "Wesley... you scared me."

"Are you going to the meeting?" You ask.

Camelia squints at you. She takes a step back from you.

"It's okay. I'm going, too. See?" You hold up Amber's mask. But Camelia still seems unconvinced. So you try the magic password: "Don the mask to lift the veil," you tell her.

Camelia unzips her purse and produces a mask of her own. This one has only a single lapis eye, in the spot it normally would be on a human face. The other orbit is a blank divot like the ones in the mask you hold.

"Purge the belly of the whale," she says.

Amber comes out from behind a bollard, running like a linebacker, and tackles Camelia to the ground.

"--Amber--!" Camelia shouts, but Amber cuts her off by putting a hand over her mouth.

"Be quiet," she tells Camelia in low tones. She takes the mask from the ground where Camelia dropped it.

Camelia's eyes bulge. She struggles against Amber, but Amber keeps her pinned.

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"You're in a cult," Amber tells her, speaking over Camelia's muffled pleas. "I'm sorry you don't see it. But irregardless of that, your fellow cultists have been trying to murder us all day."

"Did you seriously just say--" you begin.

"So I'm taking your mask now. You're going to wait with Will, in that car over there, until the meeting is over. We'll take you home afterwards."

When Amber lifts her hand from Camelia's mouth, the first thing Camelia says is:

"Are you hurt?"

Amber blinks. This question surprises her. She glances down at herself as if to check for injuries. "No?"

"Well what do you mean they tried to kill you?"

Amber punctuates her story with illustrative hand motions. "Drove a truck through the wall of the restaurant I was eating at -- eeeeeeee-aaaaaaarrrrr, crash! Fired guns at me. Ka-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch, boom. Tried to kidnap my pals. Generally caused a ruckus. That sort of thing."

Camelia, still flat on her back under Amber, cocks her head, furrows her brow. "Are you... are you telling me the truth...? Why?"

You look around nervously. You're keenly aware of the fact that you're in the middle of a public parking garage where anyone could roll up at any moment. "Uh, we should probably hurry this up."

Amber jumps to her feet, reaches down, and helps Camelia stand too. She even reaches behind Camelia and brushes the dirt off her backside.

"I don't understand," Camelia says. "Why would the Instrumentalists try to kill you?"

"That's what we're trying to find out. We're going to sneak into that meeting."

"But -- you can't!" Camelia says, taking a step forward. "If they're trying kill you--"

"This isn't a negotiation," Lily says, walking up, gun drawn. "Get in the car."

Camelia doesn't even look at the gun pointed at her. "Amber," she pleads, gulping, voice deepening.

"Sorry, lady. Thanks for the mask." She nods at Lily, who ushers Camelia at gunpoint to the car and gets her to step into the passenger-side seat. You hear Will's voice, muffled by distance: "Hey, Mrs. Brantly. Uh... sorry about this..."

Lily steps back from the door and Will pulls away, setting out for the rendezvous point with Camelia as his hostage. Camelia's head swivels at the car passes you by, her hands pressed flat to the window -- staring forlornly at Amber.

Lily draws up alongside you. "Where do you bints want me?"

"I'll get you past the badge swipe up front," Amber tells her. "Stick with us for now. We'll find a place to split up if and when we have to."

"You want your mask back?" You ask Amber, holding up the one she had originally planned to wear.

"Nah, this one's just as good." She puts Camelia's mask on. She holds her arms out. "So? How do I look?"

>>4950818
>>4950825
Uhh, yay? But also big oof for Camelia. Poor lady.

>>4950818
>>4950825
>one eyed mask
Oh I hate it. I haaaaaaate it.

What the fuck does Wes's mask mean, then?

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Gonna call it here for tonight. More tomorrow. You can check the thread at your leisure. If there's another vote, I'll announce on Twitter.

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>>4950825
>"Are you hurt?"
Just emotionally.

>>4950841
Thanks as always, OP-sama! Way to make me even *more* worried somehow!

>>4950825
oh jeez

>>4950841
good stuff, OP. Catch you then

>>4950841
Thanks OP. Kinda poetic that the parents of the WBA trinity's love interests are involved in some degree with the Instrumentalists.

I feel like Wes is gonna bring this up at some point to Amber if she's gonna end up being preachy about Summer and Noah again.

>>4950862
Implying that Auburn is Amber's love interest would be a one-way trip to bullyville.

Cause she can't handle the truth, y'see.

>>4950839
Probably denotes Gideon's rank or duties within the group. No Eyes suggest a lack of sight. Given Camelia is able to see her previous U-421 life, I'd say her "eyes"suggests seeing one world and the other.
Having no such eyes I think that Gideon cannot see his past life (heck he might not have even have one) but he is trusted with the lore of the cult, likely as a functionary or scribe.

Just getting caught up. Lots to digest. For now I only want to point out a fact that is making me panic:

There is a storm called an “ark storm” about to hit, and two of our major characters who are in love, are named Noah and Ophelia. Noah is obvious. Ophelia is a character from Hamlet best known for drowning to death.

>>4950841
I guess not tonight then

>>4951906
It's possible he's still writing. Or he's just being a sleepy Yuki.

>>4951906
A based OP is never late. Nor is he early. He arrives whenever the hell he feels like it

>>4951908
Honestly? I was gonna bet on the latter.

He's got such a busy schedule these days, he just can't help it! So cute!

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>>4951906
I'm writing.

>>4951934
Quizzard Ophie
Quizzard Ophie

>>4951938
with a robe and wizard hat?

>>4951973
Yeah, otherwise she'd be like, a Triviagician or something? Which would be ridiculous.
You'd need a rabbit and an assistant in a skimpy outfit or something to make that work.

Wait.

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The rain is steadily coming down as you walk across the road and slip through the front gates at Darkbloom Enterprises. You're all drippy and shivering when you finally reach the doors and duck inside.

You and Amber keep your masks off as you swipe yourself through the front security check. Lily hurries through the turnstile behind you. But no one's on duty at the front desk, nor do you see anyone in the grand central lobby of the building. That avoids the potential of awkward questions, and makes it easy to squeeze through the gap between the metal detectors and the wall to avoid triggering them with your weapons. (See? Being a bunch of scrawny little girls has its benefits, too.)

Amber flaps her wrists around, shaking the water off of her in fat droplets. They land with splats that echo off the high-flung ceiling. Lily wrings out her hair to similar effect.

You've been here many times before -- it's why you have a badge that can swipe you through -- but you've never seen this place so totally bereft of people. The acoustics of it alone are enough to make you feel ill at ease. The gray droplets piling up on every window floor to ceiling, obscuring all view to the world outside, compound the effect.

"How are the Instrumentalists getting in?" You wonder. "They can't all have badges to scan."

The question hangs in the air. Neither of them have an answer. (Should have asked Camelia.)

With Amber and Lily standing around gawking at the ceiling like a couple of turkeys, you make your way towards the elevators, but you're as aimless as them. Lily, noticing you, and following behind, says: "this is just great. Maybe we should radio back to Will and ask the crazy bitch for directions. Considering as we're not gonna find a sign that helpfully says 'cult meeting in room 101, donuts and coffee available.'"

You point at a black felt letterboard mounted to a chrome stand beside the elevator.

>COUNCIL MEETING: MAIN SERVER ROOM - SB000
>REFRESHMENTS PROVIDED

"Well that's--" Lily begins. She motions at the sign. "That could be anything. You're assuming."

You press the call button. Lily and Amber join you inside the elevator. You press the button labeled SB, the lowest of the basement levels, below UB, B, and LB.

"Into the belly of the beast," Amber says as the doors slide shut behind you.

>>4952113
Ohhh man here we go.

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The sub-sub-sub-basement of Darkbloom Enterprises comprises a T shape, the main elevator getting off at the foot of a short corridor leading to another perpendicular -- along which the doors to the main server facility are found.

There are people milling around down here, dozens of them, making loud conversation. But this congregation is in the other hallway, and no one notices you right away. Good -- because none of you thought to don your masks, and everyone else down here is wearing theirs. You dip into a stairwell immediately adjacent. You and Amber get into your disguises.

"This where we split?" Lily says.

"Hang around in here," Amber says. "Seems like the moonies are all coming in from another elevator. Maybe old Daddy Darkbloom left a different entrance open for them or something."

"Right. So what do you want me to do? What makes me useful here?"

"When these idiots clear out of the halls, get as close to the meeting room as you feel comfortable," Amber says. "Listen in, if you can. But either way, be ready to start shooting when some shit goes down."

"If," you say.

"Huh?" Amber says.

Lily nods. Together, you and Amber exit the stairwell and head into the mass of cultists.

So this is a total honeypot, right? And we're gonna know everyone here by accident?

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The corridor outside the server room is packed full, with more occasionally arriving from a different elevator. There's the din of many conversations, creating an air of anticipation. There are some buffet tables set up, with glazed donuts and coffee urns. People wander to and fro with nervous energy, some picking at these goodies -- but eating and drinking under a mask is so awkward that only few attempt it.

When you surreptitiously try the push-handle on one of the doors leading to the server room, you find it locked. So no one is getting in until the bigwigs allow it. As you and Amber yourselves begin to nervously flit about, though, you overhear conversations that seem to indicate the bigwiggery of even these lower-level acolytes:

"...so much NIMBYism in this town, it'll be hard to get the permitting squared away..."

"...thought I might send the factory overseas to Senegal, but all the fuckers over there are unionizing too..."

"...blow over before too long. First it was FinishLuna, now this tizzy over the AFP getting a couple local wins down south -- pretty soon - who knows? People these days are easily distracted, we shouldn't be..."

You try to calm your erratic breathing and look like you belong.

"These people know each other," Amber mutters.

You sort of half shrug.

"They know each other," she repeats. "They recognize each other even with the masks." She gives you a lingering look. You understand. If they recognize one another, they won't recognize you. Or worse, they'll recognize your masks -- and know that you're the wrong people to be wearing them.

You're only just turning this frankly frightening thought over in your mind when someone grabs Amber by the wrist, arresting her forward momentum.

"Hey--" she grunts.

You wheel around. The man who grabbed her has quietly pushed her back to the wall. He looms menacingly, still holding her hand, but not making a scene. You get twitchy. Your gun is resting in the enormous front pocket of your hoodie, and you wrap your fingers around it, ready to draw. But the man waylaying Amber speaks:

"What are you doing here," Auburn half whispers.

>>4952121
F e a r

>>4952128
Ohhhhh man

>>4952128
Of course it's all these same fuckers. What a fucking throwback.

God *dammit* Auburn.

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His mask is one of the least creepy you've seen so far, with two gemstone eyes right where eyes should go. The tribal whorls of red across the off-white background give it the appearance of a Kabuki mask.

"What am I doing here?" Amber hisses back. "What are YOU--" she glances from side to side, jerks her arm out of his grip. "Goddamn it."

"Shake 'em Up is all over the news," he says. "People in masks. Attacking that branch of that chain in particular. I knew you had to be involved."

"So you're stalking me. How'd you get a mask, huh?"

"I bought it at Party City."

Amber folds her arms, not in the mood for repartee. Auburn glances over his shoulder. No one seems to be listening in, but he's obviously not into divulging his espionage tactics during the mission. "You didn't hurt my mother, did you?" He whispers, glancing back at her. He must recognize Amber's mask.

"She's with Will. She's fine."

He nods. "Stay with me. Keep your head down, don't make a scene. When the meeting's over--"

A horrendous crescendo of out-of-sync alarms begin to sound. People check their pockets, silence their cells, mutter and groan, piss and moan. From the little snippets you catch of what people are saying, you discern that the evacuation order is in effect for Santa Clara County. Some seem unsure of what to do, and a few even start towards the exits. Your heart sinks when you see several of them, seemingly randomly, choose to head in the direction of the hall where Lily is lying low. But within seconds, a man emerges from the server room, tall and wearing a Nehru jacket. His mask is the most ostentatious yet, the entire face of it a single large bloodshot eye with an enormous jewel the size of a grapefruit in the center -- every ruby-red vessel in the cornea terminating in another, smaller, lapis eye.

"The council will meet. We shall expedite our business. Do not leave."

The command not to leave brings the leavers to heel. As people return, the doors to the server room unlock, and everyone files in. You do, too -- inexorably pushed forward by this mass of humanity as if caught in a slipstream.

>>4952136
>But within seconds, a man emerges from the server room, tall and wearing a Nehru jacket. His mask is the most ostentatious yet, the entire face of it a single large bloodshot eye with an enormous jewel the size of a grapefruit in the center -- every ruby-red vessel in the cornea terminating in another, smaller, lapis eye.
Oh good, another terrifying boss character. I was just thinking we needed more of these.

>>4952125
The entire harem plus characters from FQ all snuck in. Including David. You thought he was a member? So did he.

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>>4952136
>"So you're stalking me. How'd you get a mask, huh?"
>"I bought it at Party City."

>>4952141
Large central eye, branching off into smaller, self similar eyes. That suggests he might be a centralized communicator. Either a leader or some kind of enforcer. Makes me think of the Slave/Master setup of the Chinese knockoff of Sand Reckoner.

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The room is dimly lit, the overhead lights all off save for the odd emergency light. Most illumination is from the whitish-blue glow of the server towers themselves. This space is not ideal for a large group meeting, and by necessity you find yourselves segregated from row to narrow row: a dozen or so people crammed into each little aisle between each set of towers. It's an isolating and disquieting way to be situated. You all face a small, open space at the opposite end of the room abutting some glass-walled offices where the sysadmins live.

It's here that the high council of Instrumentalists are ready and waiting for you all. They sit at a long conference table. Each wears a mask more ornate than the last: one with a hexagon of eyes ringing a central blood-red garnet; one with over a hundred little eyes arrayed in slightly offset columns like a Mondrian painting; one with four huge eyes spanning from brow to brow and chin to hairline, each one individually made from dozens of smaller eyes like a pointillist composition -- and, squinting, you realize those smaller eyes are also composed of even tinier eyes...

In total, the high council numbers 21 people. You get the sense of hierarchy symbolized by the masks they wear. More eyes means more status -- like the service ribbons on a soldier's coat. Except the entire group seems pretty obviously led by the man sitting at the center of the table, whose mask eschews these Monster Mash designs for something much simpler. His is just a sphere -- a single, large eye, fitted over head and neck, resting atop his shoulders.

This is Absalom Abrams. You're pretty sure. You're guessing.

And, sitting on his knees in front of the council's table, like a thing on exhibit for the gathered crowd, is David Darkbloom. You're not guessing here. You know it's him because he has no mask.

>>4952153
Alright, what the actual fuck is happening.

>>4952153
UH

UH HUH?

>>4952154
An apocalypse cult of Korean occult villains are gearing up to sacrifice our morally dubious grandfather.
This will not do.

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>>4952153
Oh. Okay.

>>4952153
B-but... how are we supposed to shoot them in the big glowing eye if they have thousands between them?!

>>4952166
Did you backtrack for the Seeker Launcher? The puzzle's pretty obtuse but you'll need those to progress.

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Absalom stands, circles and table, and approaches David. One of the doors into the server room creaks open behind you, though, and a latecomer races in. He pushes through the crowded people in a row adjacent and emerges at the table of elders, approaching Absalom directly. He puts a hand to Absalom's shoulder, leans in, and seems to be whispering. Absalom listens intently and finally nods.

You, Amber, and Auburn share a look.

Absalom bids the man away and speaks to the assembled believers: "We should begin." You know for sure it's him from just his voice. The din of a hundred conversations dies, replaced only be the eerie whir of the servers. Absalom folds his hands before him. "I wanted to honor our brothers and sisters who have elevated their consciousness since last we met, but weather and exigent circumstances are forcing a briefer agenda. Life is funny like that sometimes. Don't be discouraged. Those who are on the middle path are being recognized. We will reconvene as always to give you formal recognition too. Don't waver. Don't want."

Absalom turns and nods at his compatriots at the long table. One among them goes to the wall and inputs a code into a panel there. Even the emergency lights overhead all die. Now the far reaches of the room are pitch black. The council and the table they rest at are almost totally cloaked in shadow. Absalom and David themselves become a little indistinct as well. Pools of dark surround you everywhere. Amber and Auburn are cast weirdly blue in the light of the servers -- everyone is.

Absalom says, "we are being attacked in the press. We are victims of black propaganda: malefactors posing as our brothers and sisters, committing crimes supposedly in our name. Some of us have even been victims of violence ourselves. Our brother recently died in police custody, falsely accused and then silenced by death. He passes on to the next world. Let us honor him with our silence also."

He bows his head. There's a rustle all around of others doing the same. You follow suit.

After an agonizing eternity of quiet, Absalom continues. He pulls from his jacket a book you recognize even in the low light -- the diary Buridan stole from Bosphorus Rare Books.

"See thou do it not?" Absalom says. "For I am thy fellowservant, and of thy brethren the prophets, and of them which keep the sayings of this book: worship God. Seal not the sayings of the prophecy of this book. For the time is at hand."

He sets the book gently down on the table.

"The council has convened. We have found new prophecies. The prophecies are genuine. Rejoice. The time of undoing and remaking is come. Great waves in choppy seas, the singling out of the thread of order from the tapestry. And among such propitious omens, my patron cometh home."

He puts his hand on David's shoulder and squeezes. David closes his eyes.

"If not for you," Absalom says, "then not for us. You blazed the path. Now you walk it as a neophyte. Shall we begin?"

"Yes," David says.

>>4952169
I thought they removed those when the board declared Whitney's "doors you have to shoot to open" project a failure...

That's all for tonight. I'll post some more a little later in the week. As always, I'm sorry for the slow going.

>>4952172
Nah, they just painted all the doors blue again, so it was fine.

>>4952178
aaaaaaaaaaa now I get to panic more! Thanks a bunch anyway, OP-sama!

>>4952171
God fuck etc

>>4952178
No worries OP, I can definitely understand wanting to get this episode right. See ya then

>>4952178
Don't worry about it, I'm sure you've got shit to do. Thanks as always for the good terrifying times!

>>4952171
>>4952178
あああああああああああああああ
Thank you for running, OP.

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>>4952171
These are the facts we can glean from this post:
1. Absalom looks like a goddamned Moron.
2. He is in contact from Sam Buridan and got the Diary, he is probably somewhat aware of Sam's capabilities, assuming Sam learned it in the Cult.
3. Either Sam was acting on his own after shooting the guy who shot Cerise, who himself was acting on his own Or
4. Abs is lying through his teeth and past Giant Eyeball Mask, that I will mock for the next trillion years.
5. David appears to be some kind of Prodigal father to the Cult. Probably investigated the Optimizing Parameter with Abs and the two fell out so Abs did the sensible thing started an honest to Yuki Cult.
6. Of which Grandpa Darkbloom is joining. The question here is not if David has a long game, but what is he playing it for?
7. Does Absalom have a character Portrait for this, I render up this humble nomination if we ever see it again.

>>4953172
.... We already knew a bunch of this from basic deduction and outright being told.

David authored a paper about a "hyper leibinized parameterized multiverse" which formed the basis for the foundation of the Instrumentalists.

Ignoring the terrible grammar we can infer that the paper was about mathematical compartmentalization of spaces between different layers of a multiverse and presumably how to access information from other parts of the multiverse which is the cults entire shtick.

At some point David decided (in this reality) that this was bullshit. This is presumably because the FQ cosmology does not violate temporal causality among other things. After all why bother with nearly infinity successive iterations if you can work in nearly infinity parallel universes?

Absolom eventually came across the cult and revamped the idea. It worked. We the reader know this because Camelia Brantley exists. Side note: this means Dr. Carte didn't just chose a random flower she was honoring the woman whose daughter was to be subject number one of the implant. An altogether sweeter interpretation and consistent with Dr. Cartes somewhat maternal personality. This also means Mara Darkbloom had no idea who the parents were or the finer details of the experiment, also consistent with her actions.

The cult is structured somewhat like scientology with different tiers of understanding. Except here it has actual substance of merit and real secret wisdom from past iterations of the universe.

Gideon and his albino partner used to be enforcers if you will. Relatively high up in the organization but likely not part of the innermost circle as you essentially have to be a billionaire to afford to get anywhere near that level in the cult.

Gideon claims to have seen at least one of his previous iterations, buridan likely to has as well. But if the eyes=lives theory holds up that's nothing compared to some of the members of the inner council whose insight might stretch across hundreds or thousands of lifetimes.

I would say Sand Reckoner was an even more powerful tool of understanding, except Absolom went and all but invented it independently.

>>4953506
David is going undercover. We know this because he would never knowingly support an organization out to harm or even control his favorite granddaughter. Alabaster would readily agree to sending him into harm's way rather than an OG haremite. And David had the best chance at infiltration anyway.

Absolom likely added the bit about rogue agents for David's benefit. Not that anyone is buying it.

We should check the instrumentalist posters for anagrams...

>>4953514
>David is going undercover. We know this because he would never knowingly support an organization out to harm or even control his favorite granddaughter. Alabaster would readily agree to sending him into harm's way rather than an OG haremite
Assuming David told him about this stunt. 50/50 chance that he's here on his own. Seems to be a recurring issue in this extended family as we haven't told dad either.

>>4953506
>eyes=lives
So if this was the case and Ally joined the cult, would he have three eyes? Or would his experience in Sand Reckoner not count? Probably moot, as Ally's a combination of too principled and arrogant to join a cult. Unless cute girls were involved.

>>4953999
David and alabaster have... Trust issues.

The real question on is whether or not David will succumb to the lure of the cult.

After all the essential isolation of the human spirit is one of his primary motivations. And we've seen that he's willing to commit atrocities if it means those close to him have a better future.

I want to believe that in this iteration David has found enough to make the lure of omniscience meaningless, that a single Beatles song from a young girl outweighs the lofty viewpoint of God. But alas, I am mortal and thus doubt.

>>4955027
>The real question on is whether or not David will succumb to the lure of the cult.
More likely he's looking to exploit them for his own ends. Which may be protecting his daughter and grandkids. Might be becoming God. Knowing him, he'll use one as a pretext to justify the other.

Absalom is an alien cyborg meant to infiltrate humanity

>>4956118
Thanks, Anonymous-dono, very cool!

>>4950757
>>4950772
I'm still annoyed with that scene because there was basically no opportunity for her to seize control of us before that and while I know it was foreshadowed, that never really explained how she was able to compromise our device so totally without us or anyone else knowing.

It should also be noted that the instrumentalist religion is actually Alabaster's fault.

They don't exist in any other iteration we know of because remembering your previous existence wasn't really an option.

But in this iteration the Parameter altered cosmology to allow Alabaster to retain his previous experiences. But a door once unlocked allows anyone through.

There is always a price for utopia.

>>4957139
We don't know for absolute certain about any of that. It's entirely possible that a number of recursion obsessed religions, literature or philosophical texts were penned by people who all met OP thousands/trillions of years before Ally and Rose went into the lighthouse.

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Hey folks. I've been writing tonight, but I'm planning to be posting Sunday evening, hopefully taking us to the conclusion of the episode.

>>4958701
Looking forward to it!

>>4958701
I came super late to this thread, been liking it so far!

Though...I feel very overwhelmed with all the thoughtful analysis of FQ. I like reading a lot and thinking about it, but feel much dumber picking up themes or allusions to other things.

>>4958766
dont worry anon, youre not alone with feeling dumb like that

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>>4958766
>>4958929
One of the beautiful things about FQ is that there are many different ways to read it! You can be a tinfoil hat-wearing conspiracy theorist, a religious iconographicist, a postmodernist, or just a flagrant weeaboo!

Or you can be one of those degenerates who actually faps to Fuck Quest, but who does that?

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One of the other elders on the council brings Absalom a little jade bowl filled with water and sits down again. Dipping his fingers, Absalom walks in a little circle around David, and flicks David with droplets of water. David flinches each time the droplets hit him.

"You must reckon with the unrighteous man you are," Absalom says, "before you can be allowed to abandon him. The fortune you've amassed on the backs of suffering billions. Bottomless greed and vanity in the depth of your hollow heart. But more than that. A litany of wrongs committed against your fellow-man."

Flick, flick, flick -- little drops of holy water raining down on David's face.

"Tell them what you've done. Your great empire? You took drug money from the mafia to fund your business."

"Yes," David says, bowing his head low.

"Say it."

"I... took drug money to fund my business ventures."

Flick, flick, flick.

"You murdered your wife."

David nods.

"Say it!"

"I murdered my wife."

"You've ordered assassinations to escape the mafia's vengeance. How many people died on your say-so, David?"

"Yes, I ordered assassinations." David's eyes follow Absalom's pacing legs like a hypnotist's pendulum. "Ten, twelve... I would need to count. Please -- just finish anointing me--"

"You've lied about your philanthropy. You played the charitable soul for decades while profiting from sweatshop labor."

"Yes. Yes I did. Now cleanse me--"

Flick, flick, flick. David is twitchy and miserable, breathing heavy. His nostrils flare, his broad chest heaves. Absalom kneels at his side.

"You impregnated a 16 year old girl, David, when you were in your 30s."

David's head swivels and his jaw gapes. He wasn't ready for that one.

"Say it, David."

"I..." David swallows hard and his expression turns from surprise to a stony rage. "I impregnated a young girl."

"Not just a young girl. A 16 year old. At the age of 33."

David nods, his lower lip trembling, and Absalom gathers him into an almost fatherly, consoling hug.

"Tell them."

"I impregnated a 16 year old girl."

"You made her give the child up."

"Yes... yes..." David groans into Absalom's chest. "I made her give our daughter away."

Absalom pulls back from David, takes him by the shoulders, and shakes him. "You let your baby girl grow up in the care of an abusive drunk -- for eighteen years! To save yourself! Lay it all bare!"

"Yes! I gave her away! I gave away my baby girl! I ripped her from her mother! I ruined her childhood! Both -- both of them..."

He slumps forward in the pose of a praying Muslim, face against the cold tile ground. He's trembling. Absalom crawls over him, puts his hands over David's, and says in a half-whisper, "now you're dying of cancer."

David's whole body twitches.

"The cancer ate your soul so many years ago, and now it's eating your body. You want us to save you from the dirty thing you've become. Should we save you? Do you deserve salvation, David?"

"No," David says into the floor.

"Then leave you behind."

>>4959783
Fuck, this entire confession still hits like a truck despite having prior knowledge as a reader.

>>4959783
Fucking

o o f

>>4959783
... fucking ouch.

>>4959783
I can't help but feel that Absolom is taking a bit of enjoyment out of this.

>>4959783
Jesus Christ

OP's hatred of David really coming out in full force here

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Absalom takes the bowl and, standing, he slowly pours it over the crown of David's head. David, the water running in rivulets down his gaunt and graying face, now rises to his knees again. He basks in it like a thirsty man in the desert, throwing his head back, staring ceilingward, letting it wash all over him.

Absalom hands him a one-eyed mask like the one Camelia had. David puts it on. The crowd, as one, chants. A stupid, silly, transfixing, horrifying little nursery rhyme:

Don the mask to lift the veil
Purge the belly of the whale
Unhanded make a middle path
Reckoning of choosing past

Forego peak and forego vale
Don the mask to lift the veil
Don the mask to lift the veil
Don the mask to lift the veil

As they chant that final phrase over and over, Absalom claps a hand over David's forearm and helps David to his feet. David turns in a semicircle, surveying, as if unable to find what he wants. Absalom beckons for him and they embrace like long-lost brothers.

But the mood sours. The chanting dies, and as David tries to pull away from the embrace -- Absalom tugs him closer.

"Were you waiting for someone, David?" Absalom asks. "Were you waiting for one more of us before you made your move?"

David cocks his head.

"He's not coming, David. You'll be no martyr."

David reaches for his coat pocket. Absalom is quicker -- grabs David's wrist and pins it. "No, no," Absalom chides, running a hand up David's face and removing his mask. "It's too late."

Hands grip you from either side, restraining you. Amber is being manhandled, too. You've fallen into a trap. Auburn, grunting, pulls one of Amber's captors off her and punches them in the face -- only for someone else to grab at him and haul him back. Auburn spins and pushes his attacker to one of the servers, punches them repeatedly, shattering their mask into little bloodied bits -- but two men are behind him in an instant, and subdue him.

"Let me go! Let me go!" He shouts, trying to shrug them off, but no use.

Amber kicks and claws at the people holding her, too. One of the Instrumentalists reaches for her and flips her mask back, baring her face.

David's expression slackens. "Amber..." he mutters.

Absalom lets go of him, because his will to fight is gone. David even allows Absalom to reach into his pocket and confiscate the gun he was concealing there. He won't make his kamikaze attempt while Amber is in their clutches.

"Fuckers! We'll kill every last one of you!" Amber shrieks. She rears up, getting her feet entirely off the ground, as one of the Instrumentalists tries to holds her fast about the waist. She kicks a couple of your captors in the nuts. But it's a small, momentary victory at best. They get her back on solid ground.

As for you? You don't even try to fight. It's useless at this point. Someone flips your mask off your head, too.

"Why... why are you here..." David says, looking from you to Amber. "You stupid girls."

>>4959801
WELP

SON OF A FUCKING BITCH

>>4959801
Welp.

>>4959801
>"Why... why are you here..." David says, looking from you to Amber. "You stupid girls."
rude

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As Absalom's little council of lackeys calls the meeting to adjournment, Absalom himself takes you from the server room. He ushers you, Amber, Auburn, and David into an elevator -- along with your captors. Outnumbered, guns confiscated, and with no help on its way, you're left in petrified silence as the elevator ascends. You just hope Lily got out okay.

"What do you intend to do with us?" David demands.

"Not what you intended for me, that's for sure," Absalom promises. "Not violence. I still think a part of you wants to make the world a better place. And I think you will."

"Take that ridiculous mask off," David says. "I won't speak to you a moment longer if you don't."

Absalom takes the mask off. His hair and face are dripping sweat. "That's better," Absalom sighs. He fans himself. "I hope you can forgive the pageantry. I'm trying to drive a point home with folks."

David shakes his head.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Absalom says. "Not you, not your children, no one in your family. I wouldn't have given you my company if I intended to harm you -- would I?"

"Then what do you want?"

"I want to work with you. You and your team are so..." he trails off, looks all around the cramped compartment. "So important. You could end suffering -- forever. You used to want that. Didn't you?"

You step out into the C-suite with him. Absalom and his retinue lead you towards the boardroom. Inside, sitting at the head of the conference table, is Olivia.

>>4959820
Um. Oh no.

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>>4959820

>>4959820
CEASE

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"Where's Amelia?" You plead, seized by panic -- stepping forward, before an unfriendly hand forces you to step back.

Olivia shakes her head. "She -- should be on shift at the diner... do you have some reason to suspect she's in trouble?" Olivia looks at Absalom. "You better not have lied to me--!"

"Your girlfriend is fine, Ms. Bosphorus," Absalom says, sitting down in a seat just kittycorner. "This will be the end of our business. We'll be leaving you both alone from now on. Thank you."

"Why are you here?" Amber demands. "Are you working with these freaks?"

"I just want them to leave us alone," Olivia says. "They asked me to interpret that book for them... well... asked is a nice way of putting it..."

You close your eyes and set your jaw. You've heard it already. But, crossing his legs, Absalom asks Olivia to relay the prophecy to David Darkbloom.

Olivia takes a deck of Tarot cards and, shuffling it, she explains: "Mr. Darkbloom -- may I call you David? -- prophecy is a tricky thing. Give the same text to 20 people and you'll get 21 different interpretations... ahem. That said... not to toot my own horn, but -- I do think I have a knack for it. You need the diligence for research... and the empathetic capacity to see through the eyes of a maybe unwilling prophet. Like... say... a schizophrenic Russian fur trapper from the 19th century, who can hardly understand the things he's seen, and whose description comes out all garbled as a result..."

She arranges her deck into a neat little rectangle between her palms. "So, the literal text makes no sense. The fees are hidden inside a wheelbarrow. The wheelbarrow gives a rousing speech. From this, the light of knowledge shall gleam. A flower makes a mistake. The day after the holy day will be a fulcrum -- and an instrument of undoing."

She begins to lay out the cards on the table, face up, one by one.

>>4959824
oh god oh fuck oh shit

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VII -- a man in a suit of armor, sitting in a litter pulled by sphinxes of opposite black-and-white stripes.

XIX -- a cherubic baby atop an white horse, the baby's smile quite the contrast to the piercing gaze of an anthropomorphic sun.

"Fee hidden in a wheelbarrow," Olivia says. "Renee Carte gave birth to a daughter, who grew up as Whitney Price. Thus Price -- was a hidden Carte..."

XVI -- a man and a woman falling headlong from a burning tower, which even as they jump is being struck with bolts of lightning and engulfed in flame.

"Whitney Price became Whitney Carte, and finally Whitney Soliloquy. The wheelbarrow gives a rousing speech: Carte becomes Soliloquy..."

XIII -- the figure of death mounted on a pale horse, carrying a black banner with a many-petaled flower for its insignia. A gilded king begs him for mercy as a sun glimmers low in the background -- sunrise or sunset is up to whether you're an optimist or pessimist.

"From the union of Carte and Soliloquy... the light of knowledge will gleam. That would be Ophelia Soliloquy... my best guess, anyway."

David's mouth twitches. Olivia continues her little parlor trick.

XI -- an androgynous monarch on their throne, decked in satiny red robes and a golden sash, a sword in their right hand, a balanced set of scales in their left.

X -- a wheel held aloft in heaven by a devil, depicting a compass rose, its cardinal directions spelling out T-A-R-O so that you can read the word tarot over and over in an infinite loop. A sphinx atop leads a procession of chimeras in each corner celebrating the breach of God's domain.

"The flower makes a mistake. Rose Soliloquy births Amber Soliloquy, who, the prophet reckons, will upend the status quo..."

VIII -- a woman in a toga, bedecked with blooming flowers, with a lemniscate for a halo, tames a roaring lion, making it as docile as a housecat.

"The day after the holy day will be a fulcrum and an instrument of undoing. The holy day: noel -- Noelle. Her offspring..."

XX -- a seraph with blazing red flames for hair blows a trumpet in the skies, as men and women in boats that look more like coffins call out to her from the waterlogged Earth.

Olivia herself, for the first time, looks down at the Tarot cards all arrayed in a row. She slides her hand over the top of the deck once more, wrist limp, and lays out a last card.

XXI -- The World. A nude woman, maybe Eve, entwined by an ouroboros, hovering over the Earth, inside a wreath. The card turns up inverted.

"Wesley," Absalom says, catching your attention. "You've been hearing a lot about Instrumentalism lately, haven't you?"

You let the question hang.

"That's a funny word, though, isn't it? It's a word that leaves something implied, a subject with no object. Have you ever wondered what the instrument of Instrumentalism actually is?"

"No," you say.

Absalom nods.

"Well, it's you," he says.

>>4959838
this cult sucks

my feet hurt

i want to go home and fuck my gyaru ;_;

>>4959838
But I don't wanna undo this world. I like this world! ;_;

>>4959838
Oh you've gotta be FUCKING kidding me

>>4959838
Are you saying that Wesley just Tyler Durdened an entire cult? WTF Absalom.
Probably using that metaphor wrong.

>>4959847
I'm... not even sure what you meant by this, Anonymous-dono.

>>4959849
Just referencing Fight Club and having a giggle. Don't worry about it.

>>4959850
I've seen Fight Club multiple times, but I *still* don't get what you meant, Anon-dono.

>>4959838
Well that explains all the murder and shenanigans.

A 19 century Russian fur trapper successfully deduced who the main protagonist of this season would be through prophecy.

I feel almost as tripped out as he must have.

OP I humbly request a lewd of reality fucking that man's brains out. I don't even care if it's entirely in Russian.

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Absalom reaches for his back trouser pocket. You brace for the moment he shoots you. But he isn't pulling a gun. He pulls something altogether weirder. A long thin wire, welded with hotglue to a rice-sized grain.

"This is a nonfunctional prototype," Absalom says. He sets it on the table. "The idea is there. But it needs a great mind... well... several great minds... and the will to make it real. I could have kept this a trade secret, spun my wheels on it for the next fifty years and died, never seeing it through to the end. But I'm giving it to you, David... you and the absolutely spectacular people you have in your company's ranks. Sable and Alex Best... Anna Soliloquy... Nelson Berenstoin... and the next generation of talented minds, too." He indicates you and Amber with one hand. "These girls. And most of all Ophelia. And Noah -- if you'll have him. They'll remake the world into something so much better. So no, David. I won't hurt you. How could I hurt the people who will save the world?"

A somewhat lengthy silence settles, punctuated only by the hard spattering of golfball sized raindrops on the windows. Amber, at last, is the first to speak.

"Fucking Jim Jones ass psycho," she says.

Absalom laughs. "God, I love your attitude. You were born to make waves."

Gunfire rings out in the halls outside the boardroom.

"Really?" Absalom says. He gives David a disappointed frown. "Who is that? Is that Alabaster?"

Muffled, from the other side of the door, a voice calls out: "I just downed your bodyguard! Send 'em out unharmed! You get one warning, motherfucker!"

Absalom furrows his brow. He obviously doesn't recognize Lily's voice.

>>4959853
>. A long thin wire, welded with hotglue to a rice-sized grain.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

>>4959853
>A long thin wire, welded with hotglue to a rice-sized grain.
NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE

also MUH BASED LILY

Heh.
Ahahaha.

Fulcrum = Switch. This poor furtrapper just had a future vision of Wesley getting fucked every which way. So what' she *actually* undoing?

>>4959853
Oh this *motherfucker*. Go, Lily, go!

>>4959853
This is great and all but one of your guys has been following us around and destroying every business we set foot in, maybe you should take care of that before asking us to do your R&D for you

>>4959858
>So what' she *actually* undoing?
According to Absalom, everything. Some of the details make me think there's more going on than his reading of the cards. Damned if I know what, but some of the descriptions of the cards make me think of certain FQ/WBA characters.

>>4959858
You might be interested in a quote
"Give me a lever long enough and a fulcrum with which to place it, and I will move the world."
--Archimedes
Who wrote "The Sand Reckoner" you may return to your threadly recommended blind panic.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

>>4959864
Although they don't know what they're uncovered, the Instrumentalists are on the trail of the Optimizing Parameter. I think we can assume that Wesley would be undoing the Optimizing Parameter, although I have no idea what "undoing" means in this context -- whether it means changing how the OP operates, or forcing it to cease operations altogether. Of course, if we were to destroy it, it's likely (or even inevitable) that in some billions of cycles, another person will eventually build something like it again.

It's likely that Absalom has little to no conception of any of this, of course. It's possible that he thinks his proto-Sand Reckoner system will eventually lead him to the truth behing the Instrumentalist cosmology (ie, to the OP). It's also possible that he genuinely believes it will be good for humanity, and that finding the point of connection between the Instrumentalists' various discoveries is a secondary goal for him. Regardless, I think we can all agree that we cannot allow Sand Reckoner to exist again...

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Absalom's men respond violently to the news that Lily has, apparently, killed one of their own. They draw their weapons and rush for the door.

"Wait!" Absalom cries. "Do not kill her -- she's obviously a friend of Wesley's--!"

Orders on not killing her leave ample room for hurting her. They keep their guns drawn and head into the hall. Five masked men -- more than enough of a match for one little girl.

Absalom massages his eyes, elbow propped on the table. "This is getting so far out of hand. I can hardly keep a lid on my people. It's the same for you too, David, isn't it? It's so frustr--"

Absalom reels as Olivia headbutts him. Flailing, he just barely finds his balance and keeps from tipping over in his chair. Olivia leaps up, gets behind him, and hauls him to his feet. Reaching quickly for his front pocket, she finds his gun and puts it to his head.

"For god's sake--" Absalom pleads.

"Give me a reason not to kill you," Olivia says.

"If I die, there's no one left to tell my people not to massacre you all."

Olivia cocks the gun.

"You're free to go!" Absalom says -- clearly scared. "You're free people!" Gunfire and yelling reach your ears again. His men are shooting at Lily. "I'll call them off! How's that?"

Olivia nods. Absalom, straining, yells: "Stand down! Let them pass!"

The gunfire halts. There's a tense pause.

"You sending them out?" Lily calls.

David steps gingerly forth. He peeks his head into the hall, this way and that -- making sure the coast is clear. He waves for you to follow him. As you, Amber, and Auburn walk out, you see Absalom's men tending to a gasping, scared-looking one of their own, the one Lily shot -- his mask off, his face contorted in agony. Someone is tying a tourniquet to his badly bleeding leg. Another holds him steady. They all stop to stare at you creepily.

Olivia is the last out. She marches out in reverse, gun still trained on Absalom -- who fearlessly walks to the threshold to see you all off.

"Book girl. Duck."

Props to Olivia. She has a better reaction time than you. She rolls out of the way before the rag-stuffed bottle lands. And David is tugging you and Amber into the safety of a nearby office before you've processed the fact that Stasi is here -- that she lobbed a molotov straight at Absalom and his men. You hear the shriek of people on fire. Smell them burning. The raucous firefight follows. Stasi's voice rises above the rest:

"YOU SHOOT AT MY GIRL? YOU FIRE A GUN AT MY GIRL AND THINK YOU GET TO LIVE?"

Lily is in here with you. Her eyes are dinner plates and her face is many shades whiter than normal.

"Who the fuck is that bitch?" Lily stammers.

Tyrus gets on one knee, puts a hand to Lily's face, and looks her over just how he did when he extracted her from that Instrumentalist info center. "She a nice lady."

"FUCK YOU!" Stasi shrieks. "DIE, YOU MAGGOTS! DIE!"

"I like her," Amber says.

Tyrus's eyes dart towards the smoke-filled hallway. "How about we head on out, yeah?"