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Your eyes open, slowly at first, then snap open instantly as you realize your situation. You just won the first Asad Babil Cup's three matches and that's great and all, but there was something else. Contrary to what you've been led to believe over the course of three entire years, the IRO tournament doesn't take place in virtual reality.

At all.

You're befuddled by this turns of events, your own curiosity threatens to overwhelm your panicked imagination as you begin to wonder where all the matches thus far took place. There were some pretty otherworldly environments now and then, so it's not all real-life. Is there some sort of tell? You shake off that line of thinking. You'll have to come back to it later. Much later. For now, a more harrying train of thought is that you now know something you weren't supposed to.

What happens now? Are the Imps going to torch your place and call it an accident? No, that's too heavy-handed. Are you going to be coerced into joining the Armed Forces? Maybe, but they could have already done that. This doesn't actually give them any more incentive. Worst case scenario, nothing happens. Nobody contacts you. They'll just leave you to yourself, leave you to wonder when and how they solve the issue that you've become.

You close the upgrade select window without looking. You hastily make way through the hallways, shoving people aside, pushing yourself off the walls at corners, making straight for the exit. Step, step. A straightaway, a turn, another straight line. Step, step. It's all you can do not to break into a jog.

Well, that's a bridge you'll burn when you get to it. For now, you've got a different issue on your hands - Harris. You didn't meet him in the hallways, so there's a good chance he's already made for the Bureau of Fair & Honest Practices. Not too long ago, either, since Overseers have to plug in for the entirety of a match.

Will you turn the suspicious and suspecting Harris Zahoor in?
>[] He will burn.
>[] I will not.

>>32279195
>>[] I will not.
If we want to get hired to do that gig again we probably shouldn't.

>>32279195
>[x] I will not.
You know what they say about glass ceilings and throwing rocks.

Definitely find time to question him though.

>>32279217
>>32279279
Alright, writing.

>>32279217
>>32279279
It's a better idea not. Snitches get stitches, after all, and that guy is packing heat. You decide to head home for now, but... Something's not right. You can't get it out of your head. What if he's telling the Imps to lock your ass up as you wait here, hesitating?

You begin to shake. Paranoia starts to get the better of you.

Roll "dice+4d6+-4". DC is 10.

Rolled 5, 2, 3, 3 - 4 = 9

>>32279465
ALRIGHT LET'S SINK THIS SHIP!

>>32279465
Forget your trip?

>>32279465
>>32279378
Hazukashii~

Rolled 2, 5, 1, 4 - 4 = 8

>>32279465

>>32279475
>>32279494
Just so you guys know, we'll be using tiered DC, too.

Rolled 3, 2, 2, 5 - 4 = 8

>>32279465
How many dice rolls do you take?

>>32279522
This is still a small quest, so I'll take up to 5, no problem.

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>>32279475
>>32279494
>>32279522
You make a good attempt to calm your nerves and the fearful impulses firing off in every direction seem to subside. You continue down the path you originally took.

And then head for the Bureau anyway.

You feel irresponsible and guilty before your own self for having so little impulse control, but there's reason in what you're doing, too. The Imperials already killed several people you know for the sake of public order, and while you're a more valuable individual than any of them, it's not enough to save your life from the spiked gauntlet of the law. You make it right to the entrance: a menacing, if ordinary in size, reinforced metal door. A plaque hangs on it. It stands out from the walls in which it is embedded only in color. If it wasn't recently repainted, you could mistake it for some backdoor janitor closet, one that houses cleaning equipment.

Most people don't even know this is there.

As you reach for the handle, the door swings wide fucking open. You dart your hand away just in time to not be hit. It's Harris.

"Hey there, Darius!" His words are lacking in anything even resembling nervousness. "What brings you here?"

You right yourself too quickly for him to notice you were a shivering wreck just a minute ago. You look him square in the eyes, but out of the corner of yours, you notice one of his hands starting to reach around his back.

What will you say? You can't let this escalate.
>[] Custom.

>>32279676
Slam the door and run away.

>>32279766
Aight, you win by defualt.

Roll 2d4. One is for how hard we slam the door, the other is our pokerface as we do so.

Rolled 6, 5 = 11

>>32279833

Rolled 1, 3 = 4

>>32279833
Wrong dice

>>32279837
Geez. That' 2d6. I'll write it anyway, since you got such great-

>>32279845
Oh, nice. Writing.

Rolled 3, 2 = 5

>>32279833

>>32279845
>>32279858
[Slam door: 3/4. Considerable force!]
[Maintain composure: 2/4. You remain level.]

"That's a pretty good question," you say, catching the door as it opens to the maximum and begins to swing back. "In truth, I was-"

You slam the 60-kilogram slab of metal closed. Harris' body is flung back by the impact of metal against torso with a "The fu-" as you calmly walk behind the nearest corner. From there, you find the road back home and follow it. The cool evening breeze brushes against your neck, doing wonders to assuage your jittery nerves.

You do not look forward to explaining this when you next meet Harris.

Back home, you once again walk right past the elevators. Somebody is getting on, and in spite of your better judgement, you cast a glance at them. You also catch a glimpse of your own reflection in the mirror hanging on the transport's wall, which flashes you a smug smile. You're not unnerved. Not in the least.

Back in your apartment, your good friend Vasya gives you a call. He reminds you that you and his sister Marina made plans to visit a festival tomorrow, but you all haven't decided when that'll be.

You offer him either sometime during the day or the evening, as your mornings are booked. Unless you're checking up on the lab or doing something else for which you need an alibi, you're always...

>[] Fishing.
>[] Jogging.
>[] Sightseeing.

>>32279998
>>[] Jogging.

Rolled 1, 1 = 2

>>32279998
>>[x] Fishing.
The true operator pastime, murdering God's piscine creatures

captcha:nndulati suffering

>>32279998
>[] Fishing.

>>32280028
>>32280098
>>32280123
Aight, writing. Voting is still open, though. This one might take a little longer.

>>32280028
>>32280098
>>32280123
You make some breakfast and grab your fishing gear. It's time to put your skills to the test. Half an hour is all it takes you to get to the pond. It is not, in fact, a pond. It's actually part of a river, but water simply collects here, and so do fish. The park encompasses part of that river.

The pond is quite large, but the officials insist that it's not a lake.

You set your implements down. There is a small jetty jutting out into the large body of water. A few boats are tied to it, free for use by anyone. The local ranger knows you personally, so he won't voice any objections if you just up and grab one.

How will you fish?
>[] Sit down by the water and wait. Patience and perception are the hallmarks of fishing mastery.
>[] Take the boat for a ride and try to hook something, riding around the place. Keeping balance on a moving vessel, multitasking to both steer it and fish are both important skills.
>[] Custom.

>>32280537
>>32280028
>>32280098
>>32280123
In true Operator fashion, you give the land blood and take from it fish. Every morning, you take your rod to the local summer park and sit in silence. Your quiet plan to unmake every last on those finned fuckers proceeds... swimmingly. Your hauls are always sizeable.

"Alright," Vasya says from the other end of the line. "I think we should be to meet up around eight..?" You hear him turn away from his cell phone. "Yeah, 8 PM. Try not to be late, alright? Marina's gonna get ma-" You hear a thunk. "Ow! Well, be there or be square, you got it?"

You affirm, but poke fun at his outdated phrase.

"Hey, it's cool if I say it is! Come on, don't laugh..! Well, see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you then."

You hang up.

You cobble together a quick dinner and retire. You sleep a dreamless sleep.
[1/2]
Fucked up, here's part one.

>>32280537
>[] Sit down by the water and wait. Patience and perception are the hallmarks of fishing mastery.

>>32280568
2nd Ed

>>32280568
>>32280730
Aight, writing.

>>32280537
woo, just got home from work
seconding >>32280568

>>32280568
>>32280730
>>32280824
You decide to forego the small pier and instead seat yourself beside the duckweed-coated water. As you set your box-o'-goods down and begin unpacking, you take in the scenery. Willow trees hang over the water, their leaves falling down now and then, creating soft ripples. The greenish-blue surface of the pond is disturbed, now and again, by fish darting around just below. A small splash rings out here and then.

You peer over the edge, sitting on blanket-covered ground, at a spot where the earth protrudes slightly over the water, some meter tall. In this place, your favorite spot, it feels like you're on a cliff overlooking the whole of Tethys. It is a peaceful, pacifying feeling. Less like a king watching his domain and more like a traveler scoping out lands he has yet to traverse, you put a hand at eyebrow level, as if shielding your eyes from the sun. It gives you an adventurous feeling, though the willows provide plenty of cover from the merry, if lazy, sun.

You open up a can of worms, which is sealed much like canned sardines. Like a can of soda, it produces a "whish" as you open the lid. Like no can man has ever developed before, this invention allows worms to remain alive for quite some time before they expire (and so does the item). You deftly place one on the end of your rod's hook, having adjusted the weight beforehand. With a practiced swing, you send the bait flying through the air to land with a "plop!" into the cerulean.

Time passes.

Roll "dice+4d6+-4" while I type up the philosophizing. Shit gets more exciting after we finish our morning session of the ancient, sacred art of fishing.

Rolled 6, 1, 6, 3 - 4 = 12

>>32280982
rolling before I read the update cause why not

Rolled 2, 2, 1, 6 - 4 = 7

>>32280982

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>>32280982
>>32281061

You sit with fishing instrument in hand and look at the water, watching it undulate. Every ripple forces a duckweed leaf to rise and fall, if ever so slightly. You think about how nice it would be to stay here forever, the soft, warm breeze rustling the willow leaves and your hair. A smell that oddly reminds you of home fills your nostrils. It's the algea in the water and the blooming of early summer plants. Your mind is refreshed by the scent, but you remain unmoving. Your eyes are wide open, your brain is firing on all cylinders in perfect stillness. Mentally, you're running in place at a furious pace, but physically, your body is at rest.

You notice every little change in your surroundings, finely attuned to your environment. Over the course of the three hours that you spend here, you catch about twelve fish. A couple are small, hardly bigger than your hand, but most of them are rather large. As big as your forearm. One in particular resists with undue motivation, struggling against your arms, but you pluck it out of the water by raising a single hand. As it paints a perfect arc through the air, you ask yourself: is this what it feels like to be a hunter? Just waiting for prey to come by?

But it doesn't matter. Your will is strong. You wait for hours more. Your senses are sharp. You miss nary a detail. People come through now and again, you can see them in the distance. This cliff of yours is a ways off from the paved path, however. They'll never approach it.

You look at the sky. The sun is coming down. Your watch confirms the time as 3 PM. You gather your things, tearing yourself away from the spot where you half-hunt, half-meditate. Once home, you throw the fish in the fridge and take a shower.

[+1 EXP: Honed the art of fishing.]

It's time for you to head to the festival. Vasya and Marina are already there, you bet, scoping it out. They're real good siblings, those two. Not much family resemblance, though.
[1/2]

>>32281375
Will you scope the place out, yourself, or will you let the brother and sister show you the places of most interest? You look forward to meeting them.

>[] A true Operator trusts only what he knows. I will have a look for myself.
>[] Come on, it's not like they'll up and pull a prank on me. I'll be in their care.

>>32281383
>[] Come on, it's not like they'll up and pull a prank on me. I'll be in their care.
lets put the paranoia away for a second

>>32281383
>[X] A true Operator trusts only what he knows. I will have a look for myself.
Embrace the paranoia, become the awareness

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>>32281431
>>32281475
I like how you guys picked up on that. I wonder if you'll try to see how deep the rabbit hole goes.

>>32281383
trusts only what he knows

>>32281383
>[] A true Operator trusts only what he knows. I will have a look for myself.

FULL OPERATOR

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>>32281431
>>32281475
>>32281554
>>32281571
[True Operator route it is. You could have prevented this. But this is the future you chose.]

http://www16.zippyshare.com/v/71191832/file.html

You take the metro to get where you need to be. It's but 30 minutes to your destination. You exit the underground public transport and eye every passerby with care. They all seem innocent enough. You are satisified with the results of your continuous appraisal. You head towards the locus in question: a large, open area by a river that is dotted with tents, houses, stalls, attractions.

You go through each one. The stare you give those who look unkindly on the way you walk and carry yourself quickly silences them. Once, a brawny guy asks if you've got a bone to pick with him. You give him a nudge in the solar plexus. He doesn't address you when you walk away.

Some stalls sell souvenirs. You take particular fance to a little statue in the shape of a vicious snake. More like a sea serpent, really. When you press the topic, shopkeep just tells you it's Leviathan. You would try to recall what that is, but you don't really care. Some stalls sell food. You decide to grab a bite and buy a calzone. You pass the attractions by. You can do without merry-go-rounds and ferris wheels.

Eventually, you spot Vasya and Marina walking with another girl, a little ways off.

It's Marina that catches your attention, though.

Roll "dice+4d6+-4" and don't panic.

Rolled 1, 5, 2, 5 - 4 = 9

>>32281793
TRUE OPERATOR!

Rolled 3, 2, 6, 2 - 4 = 9

>>32281793
FAILBOAT!!!!!!

Rolled 1, 4, 4, 6 - 4 = 11

>>32281793

Rolled 6, 5, 3, 3 - 4 = 13

>>32281793
>9
>9
Tzeentch bless us!

>>32281890
>>32281902
I need to take a short break of 30 minutes. Please await feverishly.

Rolled 2, 1, 4, 2 - 4 = 5

>>32281793
PANIC!

>>32281925
No.

Op is deadered

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>>32282365
I'm not dead! I'm just... I'm just drawing inspiration.

The hands are hard to draw.

Writing.

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>>32281890
>>32281902
>>32281912
>>32281920

Marina eyes you suspiciously, as if you might know something she doesn't want you to. She waves, having obviously noticed you. You decide that it's no use to hide, even though she hasn't said a word to either of her companions yet. Vasya and the girl you haven't seen before are chatting away. You figure she's a friend of Marina's, which would make sense. The unknown girl appears cheery in demeanor, so she could easily be boyish Marina's acquaintance.

You approach the group, adopting a slight swagger and an easygoing grin, waving as you greet them.

"Hey! What a coincidence!" You make brief eye contact with Vasya, in whose eyes you see recognition dawn, but pay a little more attention to the new girl. She waves back energetically.

"Who's this?" You ask, not looking away from the one you met only today. "I don't think I've seen you around before."

"I'm Safira! You must Darius, right? Marina told me... a lot about you." You smile in response and give a defeated chuckle. You can imagine what "a lot" entails. Marina, meanwhile, lets out a "Hmph!" and pretends to not know you.

"Come on, don't be like that, sis," Vasya nags at her. He turns back to you. "Let me guess, you already took a look at this place by yourself, didn't you?"

>[] Tell the truth.
>[] Lie.

>>32282711
>in whose eyes, you see, recognition dawns

>>32282711
>Bend the truth
I saw a few things while I looked for you.

>>32282711
seconding >>32282767

>>32282767
>>32282855

You decide to bend the truth a bit. You're not the type of scumbag who would lie to his friends, after all.

"Well, I did see a few things while I looked for you," you give your best bluff. You then turn to Safira. "You're Marina's friend, I take it? You must go way back."

"Mm!" She nods. "We've known each other for years. We're on the same light athletics team."

"Huh. I never imagined Marina to be the type for light athletics," you lie. You've actually known about it for a long while now, but neither Vasya nor Marina told you about it themselves.

"She's got a lot of talent!" Safira looks admiringly at Marina. "But I'm not too bad myself."

"I can see that," you say. You really can: Safira's body is surprisingly well-toned. Even through her clothes, you can tell how tight her abdomen is. Her thighs and glutes are both quite shapely. 'Rather impressive,' you think to yourself.

"Hey. Don't stare." Marina chides you.

You almost manage an "ah, sorry," but Safira cuts you off first.

"There's this one place I bet you haven't seen! There's this fortune telling lady, she can be pretty accurate. My friend told me so, at least," Safira says, chuckling uncertainly. You feel your heart skip a beat, but shove it back down your throat. Behind those assertive eyes, that swagger in her step, that limber body, there's something unmistakeably feminine about her.

You're an Operator, damn it. You're going to be Generalissimo one day. You're going to buy your way into aristocracy. You're going to have a harem. You can't fall for a single woman right now. It's all just the Coolidge Effect. Must be.

The three of them lead you to a strangely-decorated house. It looks like it crawled straight out of a gypsy tabor.
[1/2]

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>>32283128
Judging by the exterior, you suppose the interior decor is much the same. Once you enter, the place doesn't disappoint. Dimly lit, fake smoke out the ass, the works. And-

Fuck!

Mirrors. Mirrors everywhere. Why is it always mirrors? Why can't it be smoke and non-reflective surfaces?

"Hey, Darius. You alright?" Safira asks you and Vasya seems to share the sentiment.

You'd turn to look them in the eye, but you've got mirrors on every side. Oh god, here comes a turn-

You turn your head hard to starboard and ask Safira, who's walking next to you: "Hey, how long does this maze go on for?"

"Maze?" She asks. "They're just mirrors, Darius. Don't tell me you're..."

"Me? No. Perish the thought!" Of course it's mirrors. It's always fucking mirrors. Why can't it be a buttload of smoke instead? Seriously.

Safira jabs you in the rib lightly. "Come on, harden up. You can't tell me you're a man who won't look himself in the eye!"

You finally make the turn. Your own face mouths "RUN, COWARD" as you do. At the end, thankfully, you can see the hellish corridor ends in something decidedly different. You regain some of your composure.

"You know, you can just call me Dari."

"Then you can call me Safi!" She sneaks her arm under yours, bending hers and locking them at the elbows. She also gives you a wink. "Don't worry, I'll be here for you."

You're not sure, at this point, what you think of this girl escorting you, a man, but in your current state, you're at least a little grateful. You try to play it cool, though. The four of you walk in silence, you and Safira in the front, Vasya and his sister behind you. The latter is probably none too happy how cordial you've gotten with her friend. Eventually, you make it to the end. An old, wrinkled woman with a large constitution sits at one side of a square, one-legged table.

Safira slinks her arm out of yours, gives you a smile and your three companions leave without a word.

The woman gestures you to have a seat.
[2/3]

>>32283628
"So, child," she begins talking. "Why don't you set aside a couple gold for this old woman?"

You're not much for gypsies. You know how this whole shtick with the tarot deck goes.

"Tell you what, lady," you say, taking out 3 coins. Yellow metal, meaning they're 1 ICU each. "I'll give you a couple gold and then some, but I don't want the same old past, present, future layout. Gimme something more exciting. I want to know which of your cards defines me best."

She frowns. "That's not how I tell fortunes."

You reciprocate. "Then I'm not paying."

"Suit yourself."

You demonstratively put your hands on the table's edge and lift yourself off of your chair. Just as you slide the coins off the table, baba gypsy stops you.

"Alright, kid, sit yourself down. You want something different, we can arrange that."

You sit back down. "That's great!" You also place the three coins back on the wooden surface.

This time around, the gypsy in front of you doesn't do any flourishes or fancy shuffling. She chants for a while at the deck, then does the same some more while shuffling it. Eventually, she does something eye-catching with the deck and pulls out a single card. She holds it with three fingers at the top, the face side pointed at herself.

Dramatically, she flashes it at you. It's...

>[] Strength
>[] The Sun
>[] Wheel of Fortune

>>32283842
Wheel of fortune

>>32283842
Gotta be Strength. Inner Strength.

>>32283842
>Wheel of Fortune

>>32283842
>[] Wheel of Fortune
fuck me I watched way too much of that as a kid

please give us a luck buff cause fuck /tg/ dice

>>32283842
>>[x] Strength

Rolled 80

>>32283842
>[x] Wheel of Fortune

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>>32283934
>>32283973
>>32283992
>>32284035
>>32284036
>>32284296

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FYwpt092O7U

It's the Wheel of Fortune.

The old woman smiles as you furrow your brows.

"Surprised, child? So was I. I know the Major Arcana of everyone that comes in here, but none of them ask to see it. Instead, they simply ask me to say something about themselves. But even a mentalist could do that, couldn't they? I drew this same card just before you came here. I drew it five times over. And I've drawn it again."

"What does it mean?" You ask, but you already know the answer. This isn't your first fortune-telling. They've always been like this - odd and creepy - and something was always amiss. That you would get this card comes as no surprise to you, but nevertheless, you cannot remove the look of dismay from your face.

"It symbolizes change. Not simply change in your life, either. Everything will change. You will change people, yourself, you will change the face of this world. The question is only this: will it break you to change everything? Or will you break everything to change it?"

In the back of your head, you begin to grow wary. True, you want to change the standing order. It's been a lifelong dream of yours to unmake the system that brutally murdered your old friend for no more reason than his life circumstances. However... to actually change it all? Could you?

It's not unthinkable. The Generalissimo holds great power. He is entrusted with the entirety of the Empire's Armed Forces, every last bit of them.

"You are a devilish adversary, child," the woman continues. "And you will go far."

"Wait," you interrupt her. "I've never seen a deck like that before. What is that image?"

"These?" She asks. "These are Fate, Fortune and Luck. They are the three winds that will follow you to the ends of the Earth. What their names mean, do not ask me. By their very nature, they appear differently for all."
[1/2]

>>32283934
>>32283973
>>32283992
>>32284035
>>32284036
>>32284296
"But there is something I would ask of you, child," she says, taking the coins from the table in a swooping motion. "Humor this old lady, and let me peer into your soul."

"I find my soul something not to be compromised," you say, wary once more.

"You will not have to. There is simply an old story I would tell you and it is your answer I would hear. Do you accept?"

You think on it briefly. Though paid endeavors should earn no thanks, the woman has told you more than you had asked for with your money. You can, at the very least, listen to her question and answer it.

"I accept your request," you speak, resolute.

"Then listen close. Imagine, for a second, that you are a simple man, of age, but a child. In your young years, you are picked up by a noble family. They save you from poverty, from starvation and a lifetime of petty thievery, for which you might have one day lost your head. They raise you as your own. In time, you grow out of your ignorance."

You try to rummage through your head for stories much like this one, but it's all so vague. You can't put your finger on it. Too many fits. The fortune teller continues.

"This family is no ordinary nobility - they rule a vast land and answer only to ruling families like their own, far away. Along with their only son, you are educated. Educated no less than he, at his own behest. He treats you as a blood brother, and you share the sentiment. You both share many memories. You learn the tongue of these nobles, the art of war and of politics, their way of life. Yet in time, a terrible secret dawns on you."

You begin to grow uneasy. In many parts, this story mirrors your life too close for comfort.

"It is revealed that in their realm, there is slavery. But no ordinary slavery - it is the slavery of your own people. You are of different blood than the family that took you in, no matter how they treat you. You understand the dire necessity of it, but..."

>>32283934
>>32283973
>>32283992
>>32284035
>>32284036
>>32284296

You nod.

"But still, you are outraged. You were raised to be righteous. In time, you realized that if anything were to happen to their true son, the head of the family would place the responsibility of rule upon your shoulders. You take this knowledge, knowledge of how to lead, how to lead armies, how to lead citizens, and you use it. You use it to incite revolt within your people. Another people may be used in their stead, so why must it be your people that toil thanklessly?"

Your heart fills with anger at these words. Somehow, you relate to this. You are immersed.

"Yet your people will not rise up. They are too bound by their chains. Bound in soul as in body. And so, in anguish, you call out to God. Not the pantheon worshipped by the family that raised you and their people, but the will of the world itself. And it heeds your call to right this wrong. This injustice."

The gypsy spits the last word.

"God tasks you simply to kill your brother. As you kill your brother, so will you kill the slavery that plagues your people. It is to be a token of your desire to free your people. A sign that you practice what you preach. A way to invest yourself in this struggle, though not a slave yourself.

Yet, you refuse.

You refuse, and anger God. You will not tolerate the dire plight of your people, but neither will you raise arms against the hand that fed you. You show God your true ambition, the ambition to have it all. And he is furious. He commands you to stand down. He orders you to follow his will. This will, which you yourself asked for assistance, now chooses for you to submit to it. God will forcibly crush the state you live in, the family you called your own and still do," The elderly woman looks at you, beckoning. "And you..?"

>[] "He will not."
>[] "He will stand against the will of my people."
>[] "He will have my undying faith."

>>32285215
It only means what you will stand for or against. "He will not." is kind of a special option.

Vote with your heart. What would you tell her?

>>32285232
>vote with your heart
nigger it would help if the choices weren't vague

>>32285394
>God is going to drop some RAD ARTILLERY on everything in the country, your people will probably live (mostly) because God isn't much for hypocrisy

>>Nuh-uh he won't!
>>Well then I'm going to war with him and I'm bringing my people with me!
>>Time to get the fuck outta dodge and duck my head between the knees.

>>32285071
I've got no fucking idea what any of these mean and I'm about to pass out from sleep deprivation so fuck it

>[] "He will not."

goodnight OP and other anons, I'm out for the night

>>32285439
I love you
>Nuh-uh he won't!
purely because we don't need to drag people into this

>>32285215
>>32285469
>>32285470
What a bunch of filthy heretics.

Looks like we're noping right the fuck out of THAT conundrum. This is more serious than I make it sound. You'll see as I'm

Writing.

>>32285439
>Well then I'm going to war with him and I'm bringing my people with me!

Should've done that from the start. At least this I understand.

>>32285511
No you are the heretic

>>32285542
Sorry. I'd say I'll do a tl;dr next time there's confusing shit like this - but there won't be.

>>32285676
And the OP was the heretics.

>>32285439
>[X] "He will not."

God doesn't have the balls.

>>32285071
FUCK YOUR HERESY!

>[X] "He will have my undying faith."

GODLY OPERATING BEST OPERATING

>>32286040
its too late, its already over

>>32285469
>>32285470
>>32285542
>>32285775
>>32286040
Alright, looks like the vote is updated.

>>32286060
Well I still have my right to vote. That's what democracy is all about, exercising your will against the masses and being ignored.

Rolled 16

>>32286092
>[x] "He will not"
Let me get in on this vote too!

>>32285469
>>32285470
>>32285542
>>32285775
>>32286040
>>32286571

Sorry for just fucking off like that. We're not done yet, not by a long shot.

"He will not."

The gypsy woman chokes on thin air.

"You what?"

"I said he won't," you tell her.

"Get out. Just- Get out." You don't really understand what she's getting so mad about. You get up.

"What's the matter?"

"You would actually defy the will of God?"

"I'm not seeing the problem, here. If God wants me to choose between my people and the people I'm loyal to, he's no God of mine."

"You're a heretic, child."

"Bite me."

"Let me tell you a bit about humans. In the beginning, the beings called Marduk and Tiamat did battle. They were mortal enemies. Marduk led his armies and Tiamat - hers. In the end, Marduk reigned victorious. When time came for man to be created, the souls would come from the winner and would inhabit bodies created from the loser. In this way, the body of man is mortal, fated to repeat the fate of Tiamat forevermore, but man's soul is immortal. Eternal, because Marduk reigned victorious.

Your soul, however... Might just be born of the same Tiamat. Leviathan, they called her in some cultures. You are not only born of the devil in body, but also in soul."

You shrug these accusations off. "So what? One man is like another."

"...Now I get it. This is why you're the Wheel of Fortune. Leave, child."

You head for the same exit your friends used.

"But know this: your will is not subject to God's judgement. In this, at least, you are free. Make use of this knowledge as you will."
[1/2]

>>32286862
gypsy a worst

>>32286862
we anti-christ now

Rolled 38

>>32286862
I like where this is going

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44 KB PNG

>>32285469
>>32285470
>>32285542
>>32285775
>>32286040
>>32286571

You meet up with everyone else outside. Vasya is the first to notice and address you.

"Hey, Dari! How'd it go?"

"Oh, you know. Pretty special."

"Haha, special how?"

"Well, she, uh, she told me to get out."

"Whoa, really?" Safira pipes up. "What'd you do, curse her children?"

"Nah, she just preached at me for a while with some gypsy hypnosis and I told her I wasn't having none of that. Then she called me the devil and said God wouldn't even judge me. Something like that."

"Sounds like she threw a right fit," Marina says, amused. "I guess you can drive even the elderly up the wall."

"Hey, I'll drive you up the wall anytime," you say. You also click your tongue at her and point two finger-guns at her. She sighs. Safi giggles a little.

"Marina was right," Safira says. "You really are unbelievable." Her words aren't unpleasant.

"So," you say. "Let's keep going. The sun is setting, and we still haven't been to the Ferris wheel. You guys didn't go on it without me, right?"

The rest of the evening passes peacefully. You had hoped to keep making small talk with Safira, but she quickly retreats to Marina's side when she notices that her friend is still grouchy. Vasya takes her place beside you and the rest of the evening passes in cheer and peace. You go on a boat ride, watch some fireworks, catch a few wayward glances from Safira, even one from Marina. Vasya elbows you in the rib with a knowing smile, but you tell him to keep it in his pants and watch some porn.

You dream a dreamless sleep that night. However, once you come to, Safira is the first thing you remember about yesterday. The assblasted gypsy is only second.

You think for a second. The second match of the Asad Babil Cup is today, closer to the evening. Before that, though, you've got some time to kill.

>[] Visit Huxley in the lab. He probably made progress.
>[] Go fish some more. Piscine tributes on the altar of Leviathan.

>>32287458
Acquire leather jacket, grease up hair, go to fuck your gender swapped clone

>>32287458
>[] Go fish some more. Piscine tributes on the altar of Leviathan.

>>32287458
>[] Visit Huxley in the lab. He probably made progress.
Lets hope clone-chan isn't ded yet

Rolled 49

>>32287458
>[] Go fish some more. Piscine tributes on the altar of Leviathan.

>>32287458
>[] Visit Huxley in the lab. He probably made progress.

>>32287458
>[x] Go fish some more. Piscine tributes on the altar of Leviathan.

I doubt Huxley already has something for us after one day.

>>32287768
O ye of little faith.

>>32287458
Huxely

>>32287497
>>32287526
>>32287569
>>32287573
>>32287623
>>32287768
>>32287872
That's 4 for Huxley and 3 for Leviathan. 5 minutes and locking in.

>>32287901
And we're locked in. Choo-choo, all aboard the SCIENCE train!

Clarke is going to be kicking all sorts of ass today, what with his laws.

>>32287497
>>32287526
>>32287569
>>32287573
>>32287623
>>32287768
>>32287872

Before you head outside and towards the lab, you check for a leather jacket to wear. You don't find one, unfortunately, but that comes as no surprise. In all this hot weather, most of your clothes are either baggy or thin-cloth. You do have some hair gel, however, as a present from uncle Sam. "Maybe this'll make you attractive enough to get a girlfriend," he said.

The walk towards the lab is uneventful, but you would rather call it peaceful. Sparrows sing from atop tress you can hardly call indigenous to the area. Sun shines through the leaves, but you're comfortably within the shade, hidden by lush greenery meters above the ground. A small, homely kind of paradise is the only way to describe the early morning through NBC's more lush streets. Cars drive by as leisurely as you walk, stopping on the way to get a bottle of sparkling water. Strictly glass bottle, of course.

It all feels very reminiscent of those old, old movies. The ones from at least 30, 40 years ago. You find yourself snapped out of your reverie by the disappointing realization that you've finally made it.

"Yo," you greet the guards in black suits.

"Hey," they muster their best greeting. In spite of everything, you're a regular and you don't start shit. That alone is enough to get you marked down as a good guy.

Inside, you brush off the assistant who offers to take you to Huxley.

"I'll find him myself," you tell her without even looking. She doesn't voice any objections. You quite literally own this place. You sign her paychecks. You even bought the clipboard and pen she's using right now. Even if only by proxy.

And you've still got more than enough money to fund this whole gig for over a decade.

It's just too bad there isn't enough cash in your accounts to buy a title. But you'll get there soon enough. You've been making a lot more cash this year than before.
[1/2]

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>>32288461
You soon find the good Professor. You exchange greetings with him, though he seems markedly excited. Great progress, he says.

You're a little suspicious of what a man of science such as him means by good progress, since his interests lie in charting the unknown rather than acquiring tools and sharpening them. In this regard, you and Orlov both lack understanding of the Professor.

That's not what you're concerned about, though.

>[] "I want to see the Filipino girl. Does she have a name, by the way?"
>[] "I want to talk to Darida. Where is she?"

>>32288545
>[] "I want to talk to Darida. Where is she?"
MUH WAIFU

>>32288545
>other

No, we don't. Let's not make him suspicious.

>>32288737
Essentially I'm voting to
>listen to him.

Rolled 63

>>32288545
>Other
Lets see what the good professor has for us

>>32288613
>>32288737
>>32288786
Writing in already, I like that.

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65 KB JPG

>>32288613
>>32288752
>>32288786
You've got plans for Darida and you don't intend to blow your cover this early. You decide that it's best for Huxley to continue on his own. He begins rambling about his progress on Atlas II - the Filipino girl - and although his speech isn't riveting, the premise of his work is.

"So you see, I've had my Huxley Bodies enter-"

"Is that what you're calling those modular tumors?"

"Modular benign tumors, Darius. Yes, I decided to call them Huxley Bodies," he says. These "Huxley Bodies" are inordinately difficult to prepare, but just as effective once ready. You can basically shove them anywhere inside a person's body and they'll gradually change the entirety of one's genetic makeup in days, if not hours. The time necessary scales with the difference between the target DNA and the imposed DNA.

"And what did you wind up using them for? Hell, why don't you start at the top?"

Huxley sighs in disappointment.

"Alright," he says. "Remember that Filipino test subject? Let's call her, say-"

>[] "Alisa."
>[] "Sherie."
>[] Custom. Please be reasonable.

Rolled 72

>>32289296
>[] "Alisa."

>>32289296
>[X] Custom.
Rahma

>>32289296
>[x] Custom
Dva

>>32289439
You. I like you.

>>32289461
Thank you. It felt fitting.

>>32289409
>>32289435
>>32289439
It's been 10 minutes. I hope nobody gets mad that I pick Dva/Duva, since the death of >>32289362 removes the Alisa majority.

>>32289764
Should I get the defibrilator?

>>32290360
Please do. I'm gonna get some coffee and get to writing. It's 3 AM but I'm no quitter.

>>32290360
Aight gents, it's time for me to get back in the game.

Writing!

Tell Huxley to hand over the clone. We pay the bills we own her we can do what we want with her.

>>32291995
We gotta be sneakier than that Anon, come on now.

>>32292754
>Inside, you brush off the assistant who offers to take you to Huxley.

"I'll find him myself," you tell her without even looking. She doesn't voice any objections. You quite literally own this place. You sign her paychecks. You even bought the clipboard and pen she's using right now. Even if only by proxy.

Why? We own everything, he even told us he did it because people like to have a gender swapped version of themselves. Its like owning a bakery then tricking the people you hired into giving you a cake. Just sayin.

>>32292859
There was a very specific reason and I'm going through the old thread atm trying to find it

Looks like a caffeine enema was in order for the QM.

Bump

>>32295741
bu-bump

>>32296301
>Bumping it 20 minutes later.

It's not gonna fall off the board for another three hours at least.

OP is kill
Let's archive and wait for tomorrow then

>>32290891
GIT BACK ERE FAGET

bump

>>32293029
I believe because she would be illegal to own.

OP is deaderered.

Also, can the mc do biotech shit?

OP is deadererered.

Seriously, if he isn't back by tomorrow, I'm gonna sacrifice Satan to a goat.

>>32303620
>I'm gonna sacrifice Satan to a goat.
I like your style.

> OOQ @HouseDuravi

>I'm sorry, guys! My HD crashed as I was writing the update. My notes are 95% on paper, though. #TheCurse

...

> OOQ @HouseDuravi

>Also, owning clones is pretty fucking illegal. You know how many Deviancy & Degeneracy laws we'd be breaking? Literally worse than CP.

Yep, we're totally gonna own clones.

>>32300017
>>32303287
>>32304413
>>32304289
Thanks for keeping the thread alive, guys! I'm gonna try to give this thread a finishing update so we can let it rest in the archive. And no, Darius is all organic, all the time. There's just this one thing about moving six metal bodies without assistance that makes you slightly abnormal, physically.

>>32304550
Fuck i meant biochem. What the mc is studying as you mentioned in thread 1.

>>32302680
>own.
but we ain't gonna own her, we're gonna free her

>>32304856
and we are going to adopt her

>>32304856
She's in the harem, she's own'd.

>>32304941
>>32304947
>>32304856
we're gonna do all three

>>32305024
Yep, we are getting Darida out and fuck Huxley if he thinks he can mess with our cute clone/twin/masturbation aid

I'm heading to bed now, anons please keep the thread alive so OP can conclude it.

>>32304755
He knows as much as a second-year biochem student. Molecular biology and genetic engineering basics come included, since Darius took some interest in the matter at an earlier time. That's only relevant insofar as understanding Huxley's explanations. At this point.
>>32305372
>>32305024
>>32304947
>>32304941
>>32304856

Quite literally God's work, anons.

I'm gonna drop some hard medical sci-fi on you now.

Writing.

"Dva," you interject. "Let's call her Dva."

"You've a terrible sense of humor, Darius," Huxley sighs.

"Fine, I can settle for Duva," you say. "And what did you do?"

"Her regeneration was obviously limited by her stomach size. 'Duva's' body could regenerate major, lethal wounds using her body's proteins. Her organism could even take the necessary building blocks from other tissue and organs."

Huxley takes a deep breath.

"But her digestive tract could only acquire amino acids at a normal pace. I decided to fix that. Having to put together a diet specifically to maintain her... 'special' qualities is counter-intuitive. You might know this from school, but there's a food that contains all the necessary amino acids. Buckwheat."

You eye him cautiously, as if weighing his words.

"But... There's cellulose in the way. Did you elongate her intestines?"

"No, nothing so drastic. Nothing so futile."

"Then what?" You ask.

"I developed a ferment to digest it."

>>32305725
"Huh?"

"It incorporates Selenium and Iodine. Iodine can be acquired along with normal food, but Selenium requires a special does additive."

Huxley holds out a small, silvery packet. It's sealed shut so that the only way to open it is through tearing.

"Where did you graft the gland to produce it?" You ask.

"I was going to add it to the thyroid, but in the end, I had to settle for the liver. It's not separate, 'Duva' now simply produces it with her bile. It mixes with ingested food in the duodenum and breaks down cellphone in the intestine."

You try your best to let this sink in.

"There's a different problem now, though. See, this Aldous Ferment-"

"You really like naming things after yourself, don't you?"

"Guilty as charged!" He smiles. "This ferment has to bond with a specific kind of blood cell."

"So... You made a valve in the base of her stomach?"

"Good idea, I though of that, too. But no. I didn't."

>>32305883
>does=food
>cellphone=cellulose
Fucking autocorrect.


"So she's a bloodsucker. Am I getting this right, Mr. Tepes?"

"Calm yourself down. She's perfectly capable of controlling herself. She just needs a little blood to regenerate properly, now. All that broken down cellulose provides a lot of energy, I'll have you know."

"Still..." You say.

"Don't worry," Orlov says, having snuck up on you. "Huxley's right."

You think for a moment.

"Then show her to me. I want to make sure for myself you didn't just birth a demon."

"Want to give her your Selenium?" Orlov says with a smug grin.

"Right through here," Huxley says. He leads you to a chamber.

Duva waves at you, seeing you approach through a window. It's the same large, white-walled chamber.

You swallow hard and enter.

>>32305998
Thread end! I managed to type all that up before my phone died, so fuck you, curse!

For questions regarding Orlov's comment, refer to holygrail.jpg. You know which one.

Next time: selfcest clone/masturbation aid shenanigans! We meet a homeless veteran! A pop singer that's all bark and no bite! The one who steamrolled us with those Goodfellas?!

Tune in next time, on Sunday! Be there or be square!

>>32305998
>She's perfectly capable of controlling herself
Last time we saw her she ate a rabbit whole and then threw the corpse at the window
I think Huxley is full of shit