You and Camilla make your way back. You don’t know where the others could’ve went, but, well, there are only so many places they could’ve gone. Sure enough, as you step up the stairs to the place known as the Center, you hear a very familiar voice, sharp and filled with anger:

She and the others haven’t noticed you yet. Joe is turned away, and you cannot see his face – though, as you watch, you realize that he is very much the subject of Kate’s tirade. She looks absolutely livid.

She twists her gaze towards Thalia, seething, but the words are enough for her to momentarily back down. She turns her head back to Joe, but her gaze goes a little far, and you know for a fact that she’s spotted you when her eyes widen.

The entire group turns around, reacting with a mixture of surprise and awe. It feels strange, the feeling that just a minute ago, these people were very ready to write you off as dead.

They rush up to you, and you and Camilla recount what had happened. How Seth had tried to get in, but had been foiled by a distraction of sorts. How Seth had recognized the pleasant English voice as someone called “Hammond”. How Seth had gotten angry, for some reason, and had rushed off after…whatever the thing was.

“Was it a minim?” Thalia asks (there’s still one hanging around, by the way, you can see it clacking on the floor a few feet from the group). You say that you don’t know. It might’ve been another robot, but it’s not like you were paying any attention, what with Seth blocking any possible way you could’ve seen the thing.

Everyone seems to be intrigued, but mostly, they seem relieved you and Camilla are alright. The only person who doesn’t seem to be joining in the discussion is Daniel, who is standing on his lonesome, an unreadable expression on his face…

>Daniel: Well, screaming at people ends in punches. At least, nothing cracked. (...right?)



No, you’re fine. Shaken, but fine. You didn’t expect it from him. But the slap isn’t what’s concerning you right now.

You had seen something, a brief dark flicker in Joe’s eyes, when he had reached out to hit you. No, actually, it wasn’t “dark”. Quite the opposite. It was sharp and bitter, but it seemed to glint like the sparks from a spitting flame. A look very unfitting for the loopy rambling poet that Joe seemed to be.

You’ve seen it somewhere before. That’s what’s unnerving you. Somewhere, somehow, you’ve seen that same look directed at you from someone else.

Someone grasps your shoulder, asking if you’re alright. It’s Camilla. All you do is nod, too absorbed with trying to understand the meaning of that terrible, burning look…


> Joe: Take deep breaths. You don't want to drive everyone away, do you?



Maybe a part of you wants to.

….........

Perhaps it’s the effects of the headache pounding on and off behind your eyes, but you’re not feeling like yourself, exactly. It’s like cotton is growing between the gaps and crevices in your brain, pushing out coherent thought as it moves along. It’s getting very hard to think. The words keep tumbling, tumbling everywhere, and you’re trying to catch them, but sometimes they slide downwards into some dark, strangely foreign space you can’t reach. Which…doesn’t make sense, but that’s the best way you can put it.

What’s even more troubling is that it’s never been this bad. You’ve had bouts of this ever since you were a child, sickly and frail in bed, but they’ve come and gone for seconds, maybe minutes at a time. The doctor never did find any evidence of why those types of things happened…

But anyways, you’ve never had it going on for this long. Except, perhaps, there was that one time, when it had come during a certain moment, and…

You can’t finish the thought. Your neck itches, like an old wound. You ignore it. What could be causing this? Is it the influence of the game that’s doing this? Your heart condition, perhaps? You don’t know.

You just don’t know.


>Joe: Calm down, and explain yourself.



A clearing of a throat interrupts the conversation. It’s Joe, who folds his arms, his fingers grasping his upper arms as if he’s giving himself a hug. His gaze is turned towards the floor.

Kate stops, eyes widening. Everyone turns to the young girl, who steps forward, her voice surprisingly loud.

Everyone is stunned. Abigail’s hands curl into fists at her sides as she lets out a shaky sigh.

She walks in his direction, arms reaching out. Joe reaches forward to grasp them, and she swiftly moves in to give him a hug, her arms tight around his waist as if she thinks he will float away at any moment. She buries her face in his bright pink coat.

She murmurs something else, almost too low for you to hear, but it makes Joe shudder a little as he lets his hands down to pull her in close.

“…I’m scared, too.”

You’re KATE GREENWOOD, and that hug is…rather touching, okay, you’re not going to lie. It’s sweet. But you all still have a lot on your plate. You’re really happy that Connor and Camilla are alright, but next time, you’re not going to take any chances. You can’t. Just to think that if it hadn’t been for the robot thing, Camilla and Connor might not be alive right now…

It makes you shudder. You glance at the others, who seem varying levels of uncomfortable. Daniel even seems like he’s in his own world. You would’ve gone and comforted him first thing after you had run to the Center with the others but…god, you were so angry at Joe that you honestly forgot about him. You feel a little guilty…

Anyways, it’s too late now. You all have to focus on the goal, and that goal is to get the heck out of this place before Cancel turns you all into monsters. Or you all die.  Or both.

You’d really like if none of those things happened, thank you very much.

> Enter the library, but keep an ear open for more monsters or Seth again.



You all make your way back, and push open those great stone doors after checking that the coast is clear.

The library is much bigger than you could’ve imagined. It's reminds you of a great cathedral of sorts, with a ceiling that arches upward into a large dome.

You crane your neck, feeling the sunlight beam down upon you from the small windows surrounding its edge. A large and very familiar star is painted directly in the middle of the dome: the star of Achronicity. The symbol may have been painted there as a sign of hope and peace, like a star sailors could to find their way home, but it only gives you a deep feeling of uneasiness. It’s like that star is an eye, watching, waiting, just one of the many many mysteries you and the rest have still yet to uncover…




In the middle of the room stands a broken angel statue, not all that much bigger than a person. The inscription on the tablet underneath it is obscured with black paint. The stone seems old, worn, like it’s been standing here for ages like a sentinel of sorts. You don’t want to think about whether its arms and head broke off naturally or were ripped off by something in some kind of temper tantrum. There’s something white tucked in one of the creases of its robes – a note?

The shelves, though large, are incredibly sparse. Maybe once upon a time, these shelves were filled to the brim with books, but now, only a few can be seen here and there. Some have titles (you see Collection of Poetry and The Biological Sciences from here) but some don’t. It’s not really a great library, if the selection is this poor.

There’s a large illustration on one of the walls behind the statue, and you step forward to take a look.




Looks like the gallery of the mysterious graffiti artist isn’t done yet – this is another of their works. Once again, it’s wildly drawn, all haphazard, depicting a very Cancel-like figure with two smaller figures standing at its sides. One of the figures is so obscured by paint you almost can't tell if it's a person or not. The other has a strange face, lines crossing over it. The inscription is garish, reading:

“YOU CANNOT CLAIM WHAT IS NOT YOURS.”

Uh...okay, then. You don't know what that means, but if you remember correctly, who drew this wasn't a fan of Cancel, so maybe this was another weird personal snub to the mastermind. You can only guess, though.

The others spread out, eager to search for the tokens Cancel mentioned that they would find here. You can investigate some more, try to find a token of your own, or talk a bit with your fellow captives, if you want. What shall you do?