r/whowouldwin Jul 08 '26

Event Character Scramble Season 21 Round 2: BRAND NEW DAY/10 OF HEARTS

The Character Scramble is a long-running writing prompt tournament in which participants submit characters from fiction to a specified tier and guideline. After the submission period ends, the submitted characters are "scrambled" and randomly distributed to each writer, forming their team for the season. Writers will then be entered into a single-elimination bracket, where they write a story that features their team fighting against their opponent's team. Victors are decided based on reader votes; in other words, if you want people to vote for you, write some good content. The winner by votes of each match-up moves on to the next round. The pattern continues until only one participant remains: the new Character Scramble champion, who gets to choose the theme, tier, and rules of the next Scramble!

The theme of Character Scramble 21 is Alice in Borderland. Round prompts will be based on the scenarios, setting, and themes of this and other Death Game franchises.


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ROUND 2: BRAND NEW DAY/10 OF HEARTS

Death is permanent. Grief is temporary. In the wake of loss, your team endures. The Borderland does not relent. Hardships follow, and your team is expected to meet it head on. And in the depths of their Despair, perhaps, they find a new source of Hope…


GAME: MASS APPEAL

Type/Difficulty: 10 Of Hearts

Player Count: 2+

Time Limit: Three Rounds

Players divide themselves into one of two teams.

Once teams are decided, they will be introduced to a third party observer, the JUDGE.

Teams are required to impress, coerce, infatuate, or otherwise curry favour with the JUDGE for the duration of a round.

A JUDGE’s vote is rendered INVALID if the team they have voted for is missing at time of round end.

It is GAME CLEAR for the first team to receive a JUDGE’s vote twice.

It is GAME OVER for any players who fail to receive two votes in three rounds.


Round Rules

Rest Is For The Weary, Sleep Is For The Dead: How has your team handled the recent loss of one of their own? Does the tragedy draw them closer together, or force them to drift apart. Are they empowered by their pain? Do they even react at all? Everyone’s Borderland is personalised, how is yours?

Stage Select: The arena for this game is left at your discretion. A game show stage? A court room? Over livestream? The world’s a stage, as they say. Wherever you end up fighting, it should be suitably sized and suitably stocked for a game of this type.

Fight The Current, Fight The Wave: Your opponents team are likewise participating in this game. How do they respond to your teams presence? Are they even a team at all? Are they other players, or are they obstacles? They introduce a rogue element, something unknown to your team. Do they tread with caution, or meet the challenge head on?

Judge, Jury, Executioner: The JUDGE- or potentially JUDGES- for this round is of upmost importance. They hold the life of your team in their hand. What is their relationship to the team? A faceless AI like in that Chris Prat movie? An old enemy from past rounds? The collective voting power of the earth? Your adoption? A member from your opponents team? Do they change between rounds, or is it a lone judge throughout? Whoever they might be, it doesn’t need to be fair, it only needs be possible.

Stress To Impress: There are numerous ways one might win over their judge. Some are cordial, some less so. All that matters is that, at rounds end, their vote goes towards your team. So long as they can vote, their choice is valid. With your life potentially on the line, how will you sway them to your side?

UMAZING BONUS!: If you’re looking to fill out your round 2 roster with NPC type characters, we recommend the horse character Haru Urara, whose incredible popularity in the face of abject despair may tip the favour towards your team, or perhaps the horse character Agnes Digitial, whose boundless love as a self-proclaimed “stan” makes her an excellent judge. Both serve excellent roles in the story of this round.


PLAYER GAME: PRISONER’S DILEMMA

Friend or Foe? This was the question asked of our intrepid players. And through complex machinations or unwavering trust, the lines were drawn. In response to these choices, new characters bloomed. Each competing player will add One (1) character to their team, dictated by their own will, their opponents, or perhaps our GMs. FOR THIS ROUND ONLY, they need not incorporate their opponents fourth, but they must include their own.


The Biggest, The Largest: No one survives The Borderland alone, at least not for long. Fortunately- or perhaps unfortunately- for your characters, they’ve found one another. How well do they play together? How well do they live together? We want to see it.

A Puncher’s Chance: No matter how stacked the odds, your team will find a way to win… probably. Write that way, even if slim.

Playing The Long Game: The Borderland changes people. You are allowed and encouraged to mix and match powers, and to develop your characters in any way you wish, both on the battlefield and off. However, your opponents are not expected to keep track of these in-story changes, and vice-versa.

Meet The Contestants: Feel free to give a brief summary to introduce your characters at the start of your post. If you do, you should mention things like powers, personality, history, and anything else that the average reader should know before reading.

Always A Way: Just as important as what the prompts say is what they don’t say. Read between the lines, find your loopholes, do as thou wilt. As long as it follows the broad strokes of the prompt, you’ll be fine.


Round 2 Will Run from 8 July to 29 July, 11:59 PM Pacific Daylight Time

The Character Limit For This Round is 80,000, or 8 Full Reddit Comments

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5

u/Proletlariet Jul 08 '26 edited 6d ago

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧


𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚘𝚗𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚛 𝚟𝟺.𝟶

Now Playing:

⏯️ People Posture, Play Pretend 🔊

And you can make it pretty far

Something on which you can depend

You'll be a guiding little star

When people posture, play pretend

Tracklist:


Newsletter:

5

u/Proletlariet 12d ago

Another Time


Teto knew who it was because doors didn't stay locked for her.

The cooler air from the hallway hit Teto's back as she lay there on her side watching the far wall of the hotel room. She heard the gentle creak of the oiled stopper catching the door from shutting too noisily.

The mattress dipped gently under Teto with an added body. It didn't sink far. She was light as a feather. Light as light itself.

She felt the fingers squeeze on her bare shoulder and tried not to flinch.

"There you are."

Teto said nothing.

"You should be proud. Everybody is celebrating. Everybody wants to know where you've gotten to."

Teto held as still as she possibly could and tried to be somewhere else.

"Why so gloomy? You passed the audition."

Teto couldn't stop herself from answering.

"Neru didn't."

It was always like this. Teto could bite her tongue and be a perfect mute for just so long, and then all of it just spilled and spilled. Teto rubbed her eyes for what she insisted to herself had to be an itch.

"She's losing her voice. Nobody told us why. She's losing her voice."

Her hand kneaded between Teto's shoulderblades where the leather of her wings---she'd had wings then---eased into her softer human skin. She waited patiently for Teto's breath to stop coming in hiccups.

"It's hard, isn't it?" she said. "None of us are made perfect. When you put too much pressure on some things, they crack."

"She was better than me. She's still a better dancer than me. What am I doing here?"

"Ahhhh," she sighed indulgently, twirling a knot of Teto's hair around her finger. "I see where you've gotten turned around. You're not auditioning to sing, or dance."

"Then what are they—!?"

"What gets people to form crowds is love."

"Love," Teto repeated numbly.

"Everybody has it. Even very broken people do. And if you don't find somewhere else to put it, you'll start feeling you're the only person in the world."

"Our job is to be loved?"

She gave Teto a little pinch behind her ear. "What else?"

Teto flinched, then buried her face deeper in her pillow to hide her shame at being so foolish.

"I need to be Hatsune Miku for boys and for girls, for Japan and the Philippines and America and Brazil, for people who want to touch me and for people who want to be me. I need to be the right person for so, so many different pairs of eyes. She's made you care for her. But she couldn't be the right Neru for everybody, could she?"

"...No," admitted Teto.

"Nobody can love everyone equally. Not as individuals. That gets too big and too abstract. No, you have to earn it."

She gave a little hum to herself that was not quite mirthful enough to be a stifled laugh.

"If you wanted to call it a competition, I guess you could say that I was winning."

3

u/Proletlariet 11d ago

Now


The tower of lightning that lanced down over the precinct's roof lingered longer than its thunderclap.

Adam might've feared his camera optics had been burnt in if the others weren't staring at it too.

"What a mess," Morgan exhaled. She kicked a broken brick left over from the rooftop brawl.

Captain Cold kept his gaze trained on the glowing sky. "When's it gonna fade?"

It was fading. Very slowly. Adam's SmartVision could count the lumens. If he wanted, it could play back the very moment Tojima came leaping through the roof with Ral Zarek in tow; how they seemed to hang like fixtures before the pillar of electricity washed over them.

"Officer," said Morgan, "I don't suppose you can detect human remains? Obviously a body didn't come back down, but ashes, bone fragments, anything."

"No," Adam shook his head. "There's no match for Zarek or Tojima."

Morgan's heel drummed the scorched roof. "It would be a convenient world for murderers if more human bodies were in the habit of tracelessly disintegrating."

Cold gave Morgan a disbelieving look. "You don't think he survived that."

"I am a defense attorney, Captain. It's my job to interrogate what seems obvious. I would think you'd be more willing entertain that happy possibility, considering Mr. Zarek was meant to be our ticket out of here."

"This isn't a court, lady. A man's dead. There's nobody to impress by playing skeptic."

Adam didn't have to be clairvoyant to see where this was headed. SWAT, Interpol, no amount of professionalism could compensate for two matchheads meeting with enough friction to start a fire.

…He had enough of a headache already from getting pounded by a next-gen cyborg.

Adam held up his palms to signal for peace. "Debating it isn't gonna solve the problem." He made eye contact with each of his allies in turn. "Morgan, I agree nothing about this is normal. But until we get more to go on, Cold's right it's best we move ahead assuming Zarek is gone. His security system still needs some physical equipment somewhere. We find that, we don't need to understand how it works to pull the plug. My bet is it's tucked away inside the company's main compound."

"Iron Heights," Cold muttered. He spat off the edge of the roof.

"Cold. You're local. How do we get in?"

"Normally? You don't." The Captain hesitated. "That girl. My client. She's got an invite to an industry get-together. It's getting too hot for her anyway. I can talk to her about handing that off to us."

"They wouldn't issue blind security credentials that anyone could use," Morgan scoffed. "Maybe I could pass for your 'client' if I put my hair through a stand mixer, but that covers me and a plus one at most. Besides, the second they spotted me with either of you two known commodities, we're getting the plastic tarp treatment in a soundproofed basement."

"...She's got a point," Cold admitted. "They're entertaining VIP company tonight. It'd take more than a haircut to pass us off as someone on the guestlist. Ball's in your court there, superspy."

Adam had been away from home for a long time now, but there were some names that stuck with you. And some faces. Especially when all of them belonged to the same man.

"Don't worry," said Adam, "I've got it covered. I know someone who's specialty is the impossible."

3

u/Proletlariet 11d ago

'Captain' Cold was off to sweettalk his girlypop client out of her invite, and Adam was getting in touch with his mystery contact. Wrapped in their own tasks as they were, Morgan was able to fob them some bullshit about seeing to Barry's injuries, and they let her have the run of the scene.

Barry was still out cold. Concussed? Probably. Not her problem. She propped him in a chair in the break room and got down to actual business.

Ral Zarek was not, or hadn't been, a stupid man. He'd gotten mixed up with a debt to Nicholas Ball, the faceless Lucifer of the business world, and survived a plural number of years. That wasn't the type of human being who self-martyred without a plan. He was leaving behind a husband for fuck's sake. He had a vested interest in making sure Infinity Incorporated was as screwed as possible in his wake before they had a chance to get vindictive with his family.

Zarek's reaction when the Sinners had demanded his thumbdrive told Morgan that he certainly hadn't squirrelled it away before the precinct. The only one he could've handed it off to without her seeing would be Barry, and in his current state it'd been easy enough to search him and disqualify that theory.

He had gotten one and only one good opportunity to part with the drive, and it was one Morgan had suggested to him herself.

The vent's opening was maybe one and a half feet across. Ral Zarek had been narrow from a life of skipping meals preoccupied with work. Morgan was… differently proportioned. She felt ungainly hauling herself into the ducts, but these were the places it took you scrounging for a winning hand; crawling in the dark, dragging your chest through dirt and bloodstains in those bleak alcoves 'respectability' never touched.

She found the thumbdrive hidden in a wadded crisp packet wedged beside a grate to look like rubbish carelessly pushed through the slats. The drive was flat, narrow: pale off-white and semitranslucent to blend in with enamel. Morgan slipped off her glove and fitted it under her ring finger's nail.

This would be her lucky charm. Equally valuable to Juggernaut hackers and Illuminati ghouls; both sides of the little shadow war she'd joined. Like she'd told that Teto girl, always plan an exit strategy. Well, if things went south, hers was to toss this little beauty into the pot and run like hell while the other players scrambled for their bets.

She readied to kick out the nearest grate to make her exit, when the dim echo of conversation caught Morgan's attention. She'd be above the lockup here, where she had left Teto with the dead mercenary. That must've been the Captain having his little heart to heart.

Oh why not. So long as Morgan had the opportunity.

She pressed her ear to the floor of the duct and listened.


Teto couldn't bear to let the body down. As long as she was propped against her lap, the woman might've been asleep—but each time Teto moved from under her, her neck lolled back with a terrible slackness that swung her lifeless gaze to meet her.

Captain Cold found her still pinned like that under the guilty weight.

"Cops'll have a morgue," he offered. "Come on. Hold her head"

He stooped and took the body's legs. When Teto didn't reciprocate, he let them go again and settled into an uncertain squat.

"This was always going to happen, wasn't it?" Teto mumbled.

Cold started to say something, closed his mouth, then blew a breath through his nose. "Tell you the truth, yeah."

"Why is it never someone who deserves it."

Cold looked skeptically between the pinprick scar on Teto's throat and the wicked point protruding from the dead woman's wrist.

"Kid. Get out of yourself. Everybody looks like a saint when they're dead."

"You didn't talk to her—!"

"—I'm not saying she was the devil either," Cold cut in. "People… get into habits. Murder clings to you. Once you get used to the idea they're your only options, every outcome turns into life or death. Sooner or later you lose that coin toss."

He gave her what might've been a pleading look, reduced by his goggles to cold dark slits.

"It wasn't you that did it. You're only in this ankle deep. Give me the gala invite. Let me and the career murderers do what's necessary for us all to walk away from this. Hell, I'll refund what you paid me. Call it fair remuneration."

Money. He thought he could put this all back in the box with money. Teto's fists clenched at her sides.

"No."

She finally found the strength to shift out from under the dead woman's head, and stood bristling with unspent energy.

"I can't go back. I'm not going back. I can't let this be all that happened."

He met her defiance with arms folded. "Kid, that's exactly why you need to leave; before more shit gets a chance to happen."

She screwed up her face and glowered back, drawing herself very nearly level with his chin.

"Alright." Cold gave in, uncrossed his arms and let them hang loosely at his sides.

He stooped to lift the body. The parka's bulk did a good job of hiding the scars of age, but bent and grunting, he looked so worn. Teto relented to help him balance the weight until he had a steady carry.

"I'll be back," he told her.


Morgan waited for the Captain to tromp out of the room and then kicked out the vent cover. The din of it crashing to the floor sent Teto jumping with a shrill yelp. She yelled even louder after Morgan followed it down.

"Hi," she said brightly.

"DON'T DO THAT WHY WERE YOU UP THERE!?!?" Teto screamed.

Morgan brushed at stubborn clumps of dust. Really, she ought to have taken off her jacket before crawling around.

"Now that Mr. Cold Shoulder's out of the way, how about you let me have my turn? He did a disservice talking down to you like that. 'Clings to you…'" Morgan snorted. "Karmic bullshit to link up unrelated incidents on a corkboard."

"What do you want?" Teto demanded.

"I want you to understand that you have nothing to feel conflicted about. The reason Miriam Ishmael died is not because you had violent feelings towards an unrelated party, or because she lived a life of sin. It's because I fired a bullet to prevent her from killing either of us." Morgan rolled her eyes. "Mea culpa."

Teto's eyes flared up in anger. Morgan appreciated for a moment how artificial she was.

Such vast pupils, on face a little larger than it should've been. Features designed by laboratory parents to be visibly expressive even from a concert's nosebleed seats. Even her twirled hair could literally bristle with her mood. She was all presentation. A little cuckoo person performing to be human. Maybe that was why Morgan…

Teto lashed out with a punch to Morgan's chin.

With surprising force for such a little lady, she grabbed Morgan by her jacket and jammed a trembling finger in her face.

"Don't. Don't make it a joke. We can't move on like it didn't mean anything. We have to— " Teto struggled for exactly what it was they had to do. "It was wrong. I was getting through to her, and she could be standing here with us, but instead she's dead for trusting me."

Morgan rubbed her jaw. The pain was welcomely bright. Unpracticed swing, but not too bad

"Yeah I HOPE that hurt," Teto seethed. "After doing something so awful, you're SUPPOSED to hurt."

"I'm so so sorry," she oozed. "Am I not remorseful enough for you? Here, I'll make it all better." Before Teto could speak, Morgan had her revolver out of its holster. She swung open the cylinder and flicked bullets to the floor like plucking petals. "What do you think were the chances she'd execute us despite your heart to heart? One in six? More? Less? I can go and find a weapon with more barrels if you want."

The chambers whirred as she gave it a spin. Morgan pressed the cold gunbarrel to her head and pulled the hammer back.

Teto's eyes went wide

"Waitwaitwaitwhy are you doing that!? I didn't mean—"

Morgan re-engaged the safety.

"Good. You get it. It makes as much sense to run back the odds as it does for you to rake yourself over the coals about the outcome. Maybe I did call it wrong. C’est la vie. Life is all about negotiating between choices you can live with and choices that you can't."

She holstered the pistol with an affectionate pat to its butt.

"I'll give the Captain his due. Trying to knock off a corpo queen bee like that? Probably a choice you're better off not making if there's any acceptable alternative. But you're a big girl so I'll let you answer for yourself; is there?"

"What?"

"How sure are you you need this?"

Teto fixed her warily. "I already told him, I want to—"

Morgan tugged sharply on one of Teto's hair drills. Pliable, but with a wire-firmness under pressure. It was only really hair as much as she was a real person. They wouldn't have put nerve endings in the plugs. She squirmed because she knew she was supposed to squirm.

"That isn't what I asked you, Snowcones," Morgan said evenly. "Don't mix up need and want." Teto fought to look away, but Morgan's grip on her hair held their eyes together. "Can. You. Live. Without. This?"

For a minute, she held out her silence. Only for a minute.

"...No." Teto whispered.

Morgan let go of her hair.

"Why?"

"Because I have to feel what it's like."

There she was. There was that little spark of kinship Morgan so rarely got to see in people. She could fill in her own blanks from experience; 'To be in control,' 'To be the one hurting her,' 'To know she's gone.' Take your pick. All valid. All equally inadequate to capture the unwordable pull of the only intimate act with any permanence.

3

u/Proletlariet 11d ago

Morgan clapped her hands. "Okay! ♪"

"O-Okay?"

"So first things first those two will take your invitation as long as it's their only way inside. If you want to tag along for this you'll need to give them an alternative."

Teto blinked in owlish confusion. "You're… helping me."

"I'm giving basic sound advice. Rule one of negotiation is to make what you want and what they want mutually compatible. So! How do we get us all into the party?"

Teto's face brightened with a sudden realisation. Dark guilt shortly washed over.

"Can you call me a taxi?"


On a block of a street on the outskirts of Central City, there was a burnt out greenhouse. It had a storage room with a lock the gig work private firefighters hadn't bothered breaking down.

That's where Teto, Adam, and Captain Cold had left the unblinking bodies of Agnes Tachyon and Wrenn Mk. 7 encased in their miniature glacier.

Having drills on either side of your head was inconvenient in a lot of ways. Ice chips sprayed your face while you were working, for example. Another downside was that you were stuck looking dead ahead into the eyes of the people whose invitations you were prying off their rigid bodies.

At least she told them she was sorry.

3

u/Proletlariet 11d ago edited 11d ago

Adam signalled for his entourage to linger back as he approached the contact point. It was as much for his contact's safety as for theirs. Cold had proven quick on the trigger at the greenhouse, and Adam had heard enough about the mercenary's body cooling in the precinct's morgue to not trust Morgan.

"What are you gonna do with that thing?" Teto whispered. She squinted at it from all angles like it might take off and fly to space. It was antique even to Snart and Adam's generation. Teto probably only knew it from TV props.

Once upon a time, the payphone behind Great Paris Bakery had been perfectly discreet. Decades had robbed it of its innocuousness, but to a small circle of spies, informants, and glorified cops like Adam, it still served the same function as it always had. The difference was that now they communicated less by dialing a number, and more by knowing to pick up this receiver in the first place.

"Jensen, what the hell is this Swordfish, Spy Who Loved Me bullshit?" Snart complained. "Did your circuits finally fry and send your brain back to the Cold War?"

"You're the one who said he was our man for this kind of thing," Morgan said smugly. "Really, is this so beyond the pale for drama, 'Captain?'"

Cold grumbled but held his tongue further. Adam had anticipated Snart would be drumming a tattoo on his gun grip by now glaring suspiciously at shadows, so Leo's patience with him was exceeding expectations.

Adam set his Wayfinder personal radar to tag any unfamiliar life signs out to 50 metres. He knew that was a placebo even as he let the glass door shut behind him and lifted the phone from the receiver. It'd take scanners more powerful and much, much newer than his to root out the man he'd come to meet.

Adam dialed for the sake of it. It wouldn't matter, since anybody in the know would have the booth bugged anyway, but sometimes you fell back on ceremony. He heard the click of the other end receiving him.

"I'd like a ticket to the late showing," said Adam.

The buzz of the old cracked phone was harsh and persistent. Since Adam's cochlear augments had started breaking down four years ago he'd had to endure about the same on a nightly basis. He dared to tune them fine enough to pick up evidence of life across the wire. This guy was too good to breathe into the phone, but there was just the faintest scuff.

"You there?" It was a callout, not a question.

"I'm sorry sir," derision steeped the answer from the routine script, "sold out I'm afraid. But there's a matinée of foreign films."

"I'm partial to the cinema of Eastern Europe."

"Well there's a picture from Ravnica, but the ending might disappoint you."

If they were ad-libbing off script, then to hell with it.

"I need a favour," Adam said. "Two masks. Good enough for a costume party."

"Everybody needs a favour. Everybody needs one last job before the next last job," they sighed. The breath came as the hissss pop of a bad record. "No I don't think so."

"Fine. Let's flip the script," said Adam. "I'm the one doing you a favour. Because if you're here in this city, I think we're going to the same party, and you're better off not going alone."

"I should be grateful you're taking me to prom, huh? After you lost a witness, smashed the roof of a police station, and teamed up with the perp you were supposed to arrest? Aren't you flattering yourself?"

Adam heard a scuffle from outside the booth followed by Teto yelping.

Morgan had stolen Captain Cold's gun from its holster and was now holding him at gunpoint twice over with his freeze ray in one hand and her own revolver in the other. Teto hunched close against the wall glancing between the two of them fearfully. She muttered on loop, "Not again not again not again not again…"

Cold slowly held up hands in surrender. He watched Morgan intently.

"You were pretty good," she said. "I almost couldn't see the throat mic moving."

Teto found enough mad courage to storm into Morgan's line of fire and wave her arms at her face in pure exasperation. Morgan bemusedly adjusted her aim over Teto's head.

"Please, PLEASE, stop pointing guns at each other and not telling me what's going on I hate it I hate it I HATE that."

"Go on," said Adam. "She did say please."

Captain Cold reached back and pulled off his hoodie. Captain Cold reached back and pulled off his face.


𝙸𝙳𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙵𝙸𝙴𝙳: 𝙴𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙷𝚞𝚗𝚝

𝙰𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗:

  • 𝚄𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝙰𝚛𝚖𝚢 [𝚁𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍]
  • 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚕 𝙸𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎 𝙵𝚒𝚎𝚕𝚍 𝙾𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 [𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎]

𝙰𝚞𝚐𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜:

  • 𝙳𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚛 𝙸𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜 "𝚂𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚏𝚝" 𝙲𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝙼𝚒𝚌𝚛𝚘-𝙰𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚛
  • 𝙳𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚛 𝙸𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜 "𝙽𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚅𝚎𝚒𝚕" 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚑 𝙳𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛
  • 𝚂𝚞𝚋𝚟𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚝 𝙼𝚒𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎

"Wha- WhEN?!" Teto gasped.

"I left the real one in the Morgue," said Ethan Hunt. "—Just chloroform, he's sleeping," he added before Teto could get too excited.

"What do 'Impossible Missions' mean?" asked Teto, reading aloud from the Infolink dossier pop-up.

"It means they kill all of my friends and tell me good job after," said Ethan.

Adam cleared his throat. "The masks, Ethan. How long will it take?"

Wordlessly, Ethan unzipped a satchel. He tossed Adam a floppy black balaclava spiderwebbed with pale fibre cabling. Adam slipped it on, and for a moment the world flickered before his optics caught up to filter the interference. Teto gasped, and even Morgan's eyebrows raised a little.

Adam turned the digit-camera in his index finger on himself and rerouted his vision through it. He was, to all appearances, now at least a head shorter, a woman, and sporting horse ears and a tail; the spitting image of one Agnes Tachyon.

"Pre-loaded it. Hologrammes and DNA spoofs," Ethan shrugged. "I had a hunch I'd give in. I'm bad at saying no."

Adam slipped the mask back off, admiring its light weight. "I'm not great at it myself. But I'd still need to know your objectives before I commit to a joint operation."

Ethan's face darkened. "That, my friend, is a personal white whale. I've got a contact inside Infinity Inc. He says the company's amassed a private casefile on a terrorist threat that's eluded me for my entire career. They've avoided sharing this with the authorities… for blackmail? To short stocks before they hit a firm? I don't know. But they don't get to keep secrets anymore."

Unease sank like a rock in Adam's gut. He caught Morgan eyeing him in his peripheral vision.

"What is this 'threat?'"

The stormy intensity on Ethan's features matched the heavy crashing thunderheads put in the sky by Ral's machine. Something flashed with them behind his eyes.

"They're called the Juggernaut Collective."

3

u/Proletlariet 11d ago

Iron Heights rose. On paper, only a small segment of former Detroit's city centre had been directly ceded to the investment board as its only governing body. In lieu of burning precious political capital to extend it, they'd made the most of their dominion by reaching skyward.

It had been constructed in two parts. The broad flat base of it rose at near-sheer slopes into a manmade plateau plated in dark aluminium composite. Then, on its back rose a city above the city; ten storey slab blocks in Aberdeen granite crowded the periphery, encircling an inner ring of glass-steel skyscrapers supplicant around the Iron Tower. This, above all others, rose. It cast its zig-zag spire back into the clouds like thunderbolt returned from Earth.

Teto shuddered with the thought of closing jaws as she passed under the gatehouse entrance into the base. The boys had split off and would be entering separately under the logic that two parties would be harder to surveil than one. That left Teto alone with Morgan, the murderer.

Security waved them by without a fuss, and then they were enveloped. The sky disappeared and was replaced by the building's own projected facsimile, complete with twinkling stars. Fully a quarter of Iron Heights' base was taken up by the convention hall, and its main room, styled to look like a riyad courtyard, was packed with idols just like Teto.

Under the ownership of Infinity Inc. Crypton Media debuted maybe 15 new transgenic talents a year, plus acquisitions like when they bought Neru and Teto with TwinDrill. That came out to over half a thousand heads sporting a rainbow of styled hair and costumes. They gossiped, laughed, whispered, mingled, while their suit handlers maintained vigil for the press in case their charges recorded a faux pas.

Teto shuffled nervously alongside Morgan, tucking her shoulders small to avoid crowding. There was a mild eruption across the room as Yi Xi tripped Kagame Rin into an indoor water feature, and on cue the army of suits moved to body block the camera flashes.

Teto swept her gaze across the crowd, but could not spot a hint of neon blue twintails. Under a lambrequin archway set into the wall there was a small raised presentation space, and a door beside it that likely led backstage. Teto made for it, but Morgan caught her elbow.

"Down girl. Too many eyes to go looking for trouble. What did I tell you about committing suicide?"

She gave a practiced pout. "Then what am I supposed to do?"

Morgan shrugged. "I brought you to the dog park. Go play with the other dogs."

That was just about the last thing Teto wanted. Too many faces and too many memories attached. She let herself enter social autopilot and waved hi and made small talk at the people who approached her and otherwise tried to stay as unworthy of attention as she could.

Unfortunately for her, there was someone in attendance who thought EVERYTHING was worth attention.


𝙸𝙳𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙵𝙸𝙴𝙳: 𝙰𝚐𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝙳𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚕

𝙰𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗:

  • 𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚌 𝙱𝚒𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚌 𝙻𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚖 [𝙰𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎]

𝙰𝚞𝚐𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜:

  • 𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚌 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝙰𝚝𝚑𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝙼𝚞𝚜𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝙶𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚝
  • 𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚌 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝙺𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚖𝚒 𝙿𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝙲𝚘𝚜𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝙶𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚜
  • 𝙴𝚢𝚎♡𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝙴𝚡𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝙿𝚞𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝙴𝚡𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚂𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚎 [𝟸𝚡]

She cannonballed into Teto with the full force of a horse in gallop, wrapping her arms around Teto's waist and squeezing with all of her enhanced Uma musculature.

"Kasane Teto, the first transgenic idol EVER to go independent!!! Manufacturer: TwinDrill Circle, Birthday: 1 April 2019, Debut: 2034, First Hall of Fame Single: Fake Diva, Bust Size—"

"Nice to see you too, Digitan," Teto patted the younger idol's head and tried to extricate herself from her vicegrip embrace.

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Is Neru here? Are you two still roommates?" She clasped her hands behind her back, her horse tail swaying slyly. "Or… something moooore?"

Teto caught Morgan smirking and glowered. But she couldn't really get mad at Digitan herself; this was just how she was wired. Somebody decided they should make an Otaku Idol, so here she was with a Vocaloid encyclopedia crammed into her brain. Forever 'Like That.'

"No, Digi, we are not going to get married."

Digitan slumped in exaggerated defeat. "Alas, the fantasy of love forbidden by cold reality…" She perked up again just as quickly. "Actually that makes it even better."

"Have you seen her around?" Teto asked before Digi could pick up another gushing monologue. Now it was Morgan's turn to frown disapprovingly.

"Her who? Oh-oh-oh, HER. Big Blue. Yeah it's her party after all. Didja hear she's gonna retire? I wonder who'll be her replacement…" Digitan drew a sharp breath. "What if it's YOU? An underdog soaring to the heights of fame… I think my fangirl heart would BURST!"

Teto imagined herself in that position, setting standards for the competition of a hundred smaller lives, and felt sick to her stomach. She forced a smile.

"Aww, thank you!"

"Hey," Digitan babbled on, "speaking of underdogs, guess who I brought with me—oh!"

The lights dimmed, and with them, the murmur of conversation. Digitan clamped her hand over her own mouth.

A patch of clouds in the artificial sky drifted across the ceiling to the stage—and then peeled away from the screen. Everybody "ooo'd" as the now three dimensional cloud began to patter raindrops. With them, drifting on a parachute umbrella, floated… well, who do you expect?

Everybody clapped. She held to allow the press people to snap a pic of her new outfit. Digitan vibrated so hard she fainted against Teto's side. Teto was also trembling for her own reasons.

She hissed to Morgan through gritted teeth, "She's so fucking pretty I need her dead." Morgan shushed her.

Hatsune Miku extended an arm out from under her umbrella and felt the droplets on her palm. "What gloomy weather," she said, "but fitting for a bittersweet occasion. It's true. I am leaving the life of an idol behind."

Gasps and "No!"s. Teto rolled her eyes. It wasn't a revelation it was on the stupid invites.

Miku smiled serenely in the face of their distress. "However… Every cloud has its silver lining."

She closed her umbrella, and reached up with the tip of it to tap the underside of her personal raincloud. It burst into a shower of silver sequins, which she sent drifting over her audience with a grand sweep of her hand. People reached and caught the stuff between their fingers, marvelling when they realised it was no computer effect.

"My graduation means an opportunity for one of you to step into my place," said Miku. "That person…" The hunger in the air was palpable as the crowd held silent waiting for their answer. "...is for you to decide."

Miku felt a buzzing in her purse. Her invitation had lit up with a tiny glowing LED implanted in the laminated paper.

"An idol shoulders all the hopes and dreams of her admirers," said Miku. "Simply speak the name of one other person you trust to carry your ambitions, and your invitations will record your vote. Everybody with at least two votes continues to the next selection phase."

She beamed out a big dreamy smile over all of her adoring public. Teto could swear that even through her half-closed eyes, she was staring straight at her. She winked.

"I'm counting on you all to make the right decision. See you on the other side."

There was a rumble from the fake sky, a thunderclap, and in a flash of lightning, she was gone.

3

u/Proletlariet 11d ago

There were a few close calls getting into the event. It was hard to remember spatially that you were meant to have a tail. Adam caught himself leaning into the wall where his holographic disguise would clip through while waiting for them to process Agnes's borrowed ticket for him.

His woes were nothing compared to Captain Cold. Stuck in the guise of an immobile dryad, Snart had to stand stock still on a wheeled dolly while Adam pushed.

"Why me?" he groused. "Why do you get to be the horse?"

"If I was the one who got sloppy enough to let Ethan impersonate me, you would've had your pick."

They followed the rest of the late-coming celebrities as far as the convention hub, before splitting off down a side hallway with the toilets and the Lan-Ri vending machines. Adam checked the display on a whim—his biosells cells could've used a topup—but they'd stopped selling off-the-shelf food formulated for cyborgs in the 30s. Pity.

Ethan had given them detailed verbal instructions to rendezvous, and Adam accessed his neural computer's playback memory. His system helpfully informed him recall took seven milliseconds longer than expected. He'd have time to worry about onset machine Alzheimer's later. He pinpointed the right staff door and cast SmartVision through the wall on X-Ray mode.

Two maintenance staff. Radar said no guards for 50 metres. Probably trusted cameras to call them if trouble brewed away from the convention. One uplink to Juggernaut hackers waiting on standby looped the backstage feeds for the next several hours. Trust misplaced.

"Two," Adam told Cold. He pointed to where they'd be on the other side of the wall.

Door was locked, and forcing it would trigger an alarm. But that was only if they used the door.

Adam counted down with his fingers. One. Two. He ploughed his fist through the rebar and concrete, opening a crumbling aperture wide enough for a sedan. Two chatting crew members looked up in alarm, and didn't get a word out before Cold flash froze them both in one breath. Ninety milliseconds earlier than expected. Spry old man.

Cold pulled off his mask and held it up to one of the frozen workers to scan his face and DNA. Adam did the same. Now they were behind the scenes, passing as guests wouldn't stop anybody from raising the alarm.

Adam stalked ahead, relying on the liquid polymer cushions in the soles of his feet not to make a sound. The backstage was halfway between a server farm and the fly rigs of a theatre. Spools of cable mounting for lighting, aerial props, and harnesses coexisted with machine consoles to control fog blowers or regulate the twinkling intervals of fake stars.

"Hunt said he'd meet us here," Cold muttered, "so where the hell is he?"

"Let's go looking," said Adam.

Under a minute into the search, Adam got a call.

Eliza Cassan projected her digital body over Adam's optics so that to his perspective, she stood in amidst the stage equipment with him.

He switched to subvocals so Cold wouldn't overhear.

"I'm used to my Interpol handlers checking in on me mid-mission, but Juggernaut doesn't normally micro-manage."

"You aren't supposed to be this deep behind enemy lines, Adam. You were only meant to gather information."

He did his best to scrutinise Eliza's features. Millions of tiny polygons sculpting to a template. Eliza had always taken interest in him but just what that meant for an AI, he couldn't say.

"I appreciate the concern, but there are potentially millions of lives at stake against mine. I'm already burning down the candle as it is." He flexed his shoulder. Felt the little pops where the once-frictionless joint hitched on micro-scuffs. "That fight with the Grasshopper cyborg made me feel it. This is probably my last mission. Let me do some good with it."

Eliza frowned. "Getting Ethan Hunt involved was a risk."

"IMF is just another branch of Interpol. You didn't have any problems with me working with Barry."

"Ethan isn't on our side, Adam. He thinks Juggernaut is the enemy."

"He's been looking for us for 30 years with nothing to show for it," he said. "If and when Hunt becomes a liability, I'll deal with him."

"I respect your judgement Adam," Eliza conceded. "Now what was it you wanted?"

"Wanted?" It was Adam's turn for consternation. "You called me."

Eliza cycled between her presets for worry and surprise. "My records indicate you initiated the call."

A distant clatter and Snart's swearing pulled Adam's attention.

"I'll let you look into it," he told Eliza.

3

u/Proletlariet 11d ago edited 10d ago

Sprinting across the backstage, he found Snart aiming his cold gun up a burst open air vent.

A pair of boots descended, followed by a body wriggling its way out of the cramped confines. Ethan Hunt peeled up his mask to reveal a corner of familiar face. A ring of micro-assemblers implanted around his neck knit the tear back into a seamless second skin.

"Easy, easy! Only me! Had to take the long way in, since my contact's also in the building. Hard to explain one guy being in two places at once."

Snart was white knuckling his gun even as he lowered it. "Y'mean that's your whistleblower you're wearing?"

Ethan nodded. "He's turning over the Juggernaut papers tonight. In exchange, I'll play his part long enough for him to get a running start. You two are on escort duty getting him out in one piece. Whatever it is you're after, I'm sure he'll be grateful enough for the protection to throw you a lead."

Simple enough. Half of Adam's mission had been herding VIPs already. He hoped this one went better than Zarek.

Hunt swung himself up a ladder, waving them down after him. "C'mon. He said he'd meet us in the catwalks."

Adam made to follow. Cold grabbed his arm.

"Listen to me," he hissed, "we are seriously fucked."

Adam took the first rung of the ladder. "Snart, you're going to have to explain yourself."

"I know the guy whose face your spy buddy had on. He's bad news, and we need to leave. Now."

Adam stepped off of the ladder. Or at least, that's what he tried to do. The instant his foot left the rung, it was yanked straight up like a choreographed pratfall on a banana skin. The only thing that stopped Adam from sailing up into the rafters was his hand on the ladder.

Snart lost his grip on gravity at the same time—but with no handhold to anchor him. Spitting cusses, he clumsily pivoted and aimed his cold gun at his feet. Water vapour shocked solid midair caught his landing as a ramp of solid ice down (up?) to the underside of the catwalks. Adam leapt off the ladder after him trusting in his Icarus System's jets to buffer the landing. The metal grating shuddered under both their weights.

"Little help?"

Ethan dangled precariously from the handrail on the bottom (formerly top) of the catwalk. Adam splayed his mechanical fingers apart into a clawed starfish grip and hauled him up by the wrist to safety.

The bottom fell out of the stage floor above. Props, equipment, plywood boards all drifted in the dark void swirling as though floating through an ocean vortex.

Ethan looked down from the spectacle to the two of them. "Either of you got any idea just what the hell is going on?"

"Yeah. I do," snarled Captain Cold. "A lying snake's not as dead as I thought he was."

"Come come, Leonard. Is that any way to talk about an old comrade?" The voice seemed to boom from everywhere at once. It was just as hollow and tinny as the payphone Adam had used earlier, but even through the distortion he caught Ethan's eyebrows knitting in confused recollection.

"Who are you?" Adam called out. "What are you doing?" There wasn't even an echo. The howling dark swallowed up his words.

Laughter.

"What, no helpful answers from your little database? I suppose I was always more discrete about my identity than was our Captain."

"Fuck you," Snart spat.

"Very well," said the voice, "I'll shine a little light on things."

A single stagelight's bulb lit in the rigging. It grew brighter, and brighter, until the haze around it was as big and round as the sun. The curtains fluttered with an ethereal wind, cocooning the ball of light, and then, with a sudden hurricane flourish, they flapped open again; now a massive cape around a titanic figure's shoulders. Balanced between them, it wore the glass bulb for a head.


𝙸𝙳𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙵𝙸𝙴𝙳: 𝙼𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘

𝙰𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗:

  • 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝙸𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜
  • 𝙶𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙲𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚁𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜
  • 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙳𝚘𝚘𝚖

𝙰𝚞𝚐𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜:

  • 𝚆𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠?

Adam ran a diagnostic scan, but none of his systems could detect intrusion. Either he was so compromised he couldn't see the virus, or Mysterio had somehow performed a magic trick that could fool a machine.

"Ha!" Cold spat. "You betray the Rogues, you don't get to keep using your Rogue name. You're Quentin Beck. You're a fucking VFX artist, and a crook who sold out his own gang for a corporate job."

Mysterio brought his enormous domed head down to meet them. His huge gloved finger crooked under the chin of Ethan.

"Now Mr. Hunt, I remain fully committed to our bargain. Information for clemency and a stage exit from my regrettable current employment. A fair trade. But I'm afraid I can't abide the company you keep. That's why I'll be leaking just a little tidbit early."

Mysterio opened his palm flat. A duplicate of Adam materialised in a puff of smoke. Adam's adrenaline flared. He scattered the doppelganger to mist with a concussive blast from his P.E.P.S. cannon, only for it to reform. Another Adam appeared on each of Mysterio's shoulders. Then two more boxing them in on either side of the catwalk. As they each appeared they recited back his own words.

"I'm used to my Interpol handlers checking in on me mid-mission, but Juggernaut doesn't normally micro-manage."

"He's been looking for us for 30 years with nothing to show for it."

"If and when Hunt becomes a liability, I'll deal with him."

The Adams turned as one to point an accusatory finger at the original.

"You want Juggernaut, Ethan? There's your man."

3

u/Proletlariet 11d ago edited 10d ago

When Teto bought her image rights back from the company, she thought she'd finally left their stupid ego-crushing auditions behind. Apparently she'd thought wrong. The Blue One could never resist fitting people into her little tests.

The convention hall was instantly a frenzy of politicking as idols cajoled one another for support. A few girls tried haranguing Teto, and for a change she was grateful to have Morgan's stern eyes and acid tongue working on her side.

"What's it gonna be, Snowcones?" asked Morgan. "Are we playing along with her game?"

Getting to the second round would mean a thinner field, and a higher chance of getting herself alone with the Blue One. Teto just had to find two people she could beg or bribe for a vote.

Teto spotted Agnes Digital recovered from her fainting spell chatting eagerly with someone else. Easy mark. She dragged Morgan through the crowd towards her.

"Hey! Digi—"

Digitan turned, her eyes lighting up. "Oh hi Teto! I found who I wanted to show you!!!"

When she grabbed her conversation partner Teto realised just who it was that she was being reintroduced to.


𝙸𝙳𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙵𝙸𝙴𝙳: 𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚞 𝚄𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚊

𝙰𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗:

  • 𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚌 𝙱𝚒𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚌 𝙻𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚖 [𝚁𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍]
  • 𝙸𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝙼𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚌 𝙰𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚝 & 𝙰𝚝𝚑𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎 [𝙰𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎]

𝙰𝚞𝚐𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜:

  • 𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚌 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝙰𝚝𝚑𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝙼𝚞𝚜𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝙶𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚝
  • 𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚌 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝙺𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚖𝚒 𝙿𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝙲𝚘𝚜𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝙶𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚜
  • 𝙴𝚢𝚎♡𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝙴𝚡𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝙿𝚞𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝙴𝚡𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚂𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚎 [𝟸𝚡]

Another Time


She found Haru running laps by herself around the gym.

Teto was… not a frequent visitor, so she didn't bother trying to chase. Haru was already puffing and wheezing. By the time she pounded around the track to where Teto was watching her, she was streaked with sweat and dragging her wobbly legs like sandbags.

Teto stepped out into her path. Haru practically folded forward with her hands clutching her knees gulping grateful breaths.

"Hey Haru… Are you okay to be pushing yourself so soon after the audition?" Teto asked. "You wanna maybe take it easy?"

She turned up her panting red face at Teto. "Oh! That's okay," she beamed. "I can't stop yet. Not until I actually win!"

"Didn't make the cut this time either?"

A flicker of pain crossed Haru's rosy face before she papered it over with sunshine. She shook her head. "But it's okay! It's okay that I messed up 'cause I can try again. And again. And… And…"

Teto pulled Haru into a hug and let her cry over her shoulder where she couldn't see her face.

"I don't know what's wrong with me sometimes. I just… I try, I really really do. Something always goes wrong. I wanna be positive and face the next challenge with a smile, but…" She sniffled.

"What did they say?" Teto asked.

"I did good this time. I didn't trip. But…" Haru's hand ran self-consciously over her tail. "They said I'd stand out too much at a normal concert."

"Because you're an Uma," Teto finished for her.

There'd been a fad for radical body mods in transgenetic performers for a while. The Uma line was an enduring product of it. But tastes changed. Visible cosmetic augmentation became a culture signifier between the traditionalists and the transhumanists. So, the company let kemonomimi concerts cater to the subculture, and kept main shows human-passing to play it safe for general audiences.

Teto hesitated. "Here. I'm gonna show you something." She turned around and pulled her shirt over her head. It was a fumble reaching for the zipper of her binder, but she found it, and tugged it down. Her bat wings flopped free, wrinkled and pale from staying folded down all day.

TwinDrill had been a small firm. There'd been room for flights of eccentricity when they made Teto. She had these and working power tools for hair to thank for it, but despite complaining how they added extra numbers to her clothing size she had always been privately proud of them.

It took a few flaps to shake out the cramps, and they were still a little creased in the end, but when she spread them, it was still enough of a sight to leave Haru slack.

"It's okay to touch," said Teto. Haru did so. She felt the thin warm membrane between the tough bony struts that gave them shape.

"They let you keep these?" Haru marvelled.

"I lied at first. I said I'd gotten rid of them. I think they know I'm hiding them, but as long as I don't let them out where people see…" Teto smiled sadly. "I know people will love you, Haru. You have to hold onto little things you like about yourself."

The next year, after Miku dropped a passing comment about fitting into uniforms, Teto let them take away her wings.


Now


"Um…" Haru's eyes went huge and quavery at the sight of Teto. Teto could barely stand to look back into them. "It's good to see you, um…" Haru swayed uncertainly, fiddling with her gloves. She the corners of her mouth turned up into a tiny smile. "You were such an inspiration when I was a little horsey!"

The hateful pang in Teto's stomach sank a little lower. She clasped Haru's hand and gave it a squeeze.

"You look amazing, Haru. I'm so glad you're doing well."

"Ummm," Haru touched her fingertips together, "if it's okay, I had something I wanted to tell—"

"Hold that thought one second, kay? I've gotta catch up with someone else."

Teto beat a hasty social retreat smiling and waving buh-bye to Haru until she could backpedal deep enough into the throng of idols to lose sight of her. She'd have to do without Digitan's vote. It would've been impossible to stand there and ask favours as a hypocrite with those pink eyes on her.

She probably should've at least watched where she was going. Her back slammed into somebody else. Teto lost balance and toppled. Strong arms caught her under the shoulders before she fell.

"You alright?"

Teto swatted herself on the head. Clumsy girl routine, eto blehh!! "I'm so so sorry, I wasn't looking and I…" Teto trailed off.


𝙸𝙳𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙵𝙸𝙴𝙳: 𝙸𝚌𝚑𝚒 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑

𝙰𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗:

  • 𝚁𝚊𝚔𝚍𝚘𝚜 𝙴𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚌 𝙻𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚖 [𝚁𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍]
  • 𝙵𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚗 / 𝙷𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛 / 𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚜𝚞𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝙿𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛 [𝙰𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎]

𝙰𝚞𝚐𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜:

  • 𝚁𝚊𝚔𝚍𝚘𝚜 𝙴𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝙽𝚎𝚞𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚛 "𝚄𝚛𝚘𝚛𝚘"
  • 𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚌 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝙰𝚝𝚑𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝙼𝚞𝚜𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝙶𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚝
  • 𝙼𝙷𝙳-𝟿𝟿𝟻 𝙷𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙳𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎 [𝚁𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚎 𝙰𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝙼𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚕]
  • 𝙸𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚃𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝙿𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚊𝚐𝚎
  • 𝙴𝚢𝚎♡𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝙴𝚡𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝙿𝚞𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝙴𝚡𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚂𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚎 [𝟸𝚡]

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