Intense Struggle! (Round 7 - The Database)

317 Days To Go

Proxy had been gone for a few days after that while Ghost fixed up their programming to ensure they could accidentally be put into what they called evaluation mode.

Ghost had explained that Proxy wasn't a person in the same way that, say, Countess was a person. They'd been programmed so that they had a contingency for almost any possible outcome within a very specific set of situations. In Ghost's words Proxy was closer to an enormous checklist than a sentient being.

It had changed how she percieved them. Of course it had. To know that they were a shell of predicted statements and responses. It didn't change how it felt to be hugged by them, or the joy of playing a game of golf together.

(After clearing out the back gardens she'd turned one of the lawns into a golf course. Which is to say a single hole surrounded by various model buildings (found in a basement storeroom) because she'd decided minigolf was more fun than real golf.)

She loved Ghost but these were things that they could not do together and so she tried to allow herself to love Proxy a little bit as well still.

Today was a special day. She was halfway through her training. Ghost had asked her what she wanted to do for the occasion a couple of days before, but she only made her decision today during morning exercise. Fifteen minutes later she was pouring herself a bowl of cereal (This week's cereal was Ourobor-o's; the box featured a cartoon ouroborite grinning widely in a fez and bowtie and the slogan: “The only cereal that could devour you!”) and she announced: “I've decided what I want for my halfway day.”

“Anything for you my special girl.”

“I want to see you in person.” She asked, nervously. “Now I know you have your condition, but surely there has to be something we can do to mitigate it, right? It doesn't have to be for long. If its some sort of allergy we could be out in the gazebo or something.”

There was a long pause, a much longer pause than it usually took before Ghost replied to something. “I can't do that.” Ghost said eventually. “You are the one person I wish I didn't have to hide from.”

Another long pause. She sat with her gaze cast down and her Ourobor-o's uneaten and quickly getting unpleasantly soggy. “Perhaps I could at least hear your voice? For once you could speak to me as yourself and not through some stupid filter?”

“I'm sorry. It is the one thing I cannot do for you.”

“Of course.” She said. “No, it makes perfect sense. I dedicate my entire life so far to doing everything you want, training every day to get strong enough to fight a man I've never met. You never asked me what I want. I just wake up one day and that's my life, chosen for me ahead of time. But the one time I want something it's too much, it's impossible.” She stood up, noisily shoving her chair back under the table and turned to leave the kitchen. “Training is cancelled for today. Bother me even once and I'll start breaking your most precious objects, starting with Proxy.”

She returned to her room, slammed the door and proceeded to spend the rest of the day doing nothing and getting increasingly upset about it. She tried to sleep (not working), she tried to reread Black Thorn of Seven (her favourite in the Of Seven series) (also not working), she tried to sit and form convincing arguments why it would be completely fine for Ghost to be in the same room as her for just like a couple of minutes (complete non-starter).

Eventually, as the clock chimed for Free Time, she, lacking any desire to do anything else and debilitated by the guilt of having missed a whole day of training, forced herself out to the training room to half-heartedly practice her form until she was too tired to continue.

The gates to the Class 3 (Violent and Dangerous) prison yard opened, and through them walked a strange group.

At its head an expressionless green statue of a man who moved with a certain clockwork stiffness. Behind him was Aegis speaking animatedly with another man, slimmer in build than Aegis but of a similar skin tone. And finally trailing behind them a teenage girl in a black dress with white as paper skin and vibrantly purple hair. She was glancing around, her solid black eyes flitting across all of the prisoners chained in place across the yard. Flanking the group were six robotic guards, three on each side like a guard of honour.

“Hey! Is there any way I can apply for a pleasant little walkabout?” It was the same guy who'd been trying to coax the nymph into helping him break out. The group largely paid no attention as they passed him on the way to the nymph's cell, though the purple haired girl's gaze lingered and her frown deepened. Ignored, the prisoner, Mike or something, called profanities after the group and redoubled his efforts to somehow miraculously burst free of his restraints.

“It is pleasant to see you again Aph.” The green statue man said as he drew close to the cell. Then he turned and instructed the nearest of the guard robots to open the door to the nymph's cell.

“I think you have me confused with someone else.” The nymph said. “Though I wouldn't say no to getting out of this cell and finding my other friends. Hi Aegis.” Aegis waved a heavy gauntleted arm.

“Aegis here and Sister Clara who is currently located in a cell shared with the lich Konka Rar on the level below this are all that remain of your friends, Aph.” The statue man spoke with precision. “I do not usually like to explain myself until every participant of this battle is present, but we're well ahead of schedule this loop and so I can spare a moment before we have to be moving.”

“What about B? What happened to B?” The nymph asked, unable to keep the grief from her voice.

“I can only provide you answers about this round.” The nymph stepped out of the cell, carefully so as not to touch those electrified bars and looked past the statue man to Aegis. He shrugged apologetically.

“I can't say for sure, but the last time I saw him alive was the desert.” He said, his exhaustion obvious in his voice. “All this intrigue has been a little too much for me. I'm long due an obvious target and a fair fight.” He forced a small smile and after a moment the nymph returned it. “Ah, but I'm being rude. Let me introduce my old pal Aeon. Known him all my life, and who would've believed it he also gets dragged into one of these things.”

“Nice to meet you.” Aeon gave the nymph a little salute with one hand. “Now we're back together there's very little Aegis and I can't handle. We'll probably be taking down this Monitor asshole together in no time.”

“Hi, I'm Amethyst.” The girl with purple hair introduced herself. “I'm not life long pals with either of these guys but I want to help. I can't stand seeing the way these battles treat people.” With that she takes another long look around the prison yard.

“It's nice to meet you both.” The nymph said. “I'm um,” for a moment she considers calling herself Titania for a split second but the extra weight of D'Neya's death only makes it feel less appropriate a name, “I don't really have a name.”

“You're Aph, I'm Kracht.” The statue man replied quickly. “And if we're done with the niceties of introductions I would suggest we move. This loop has been rather fortuitous so far but we must not become complacent.”

The nymph drew back from the statue man, folding her arms and pursing her lips irately. “Stop calling me that, that's not my name, and if you want me to go anywhere with you you'll have to explain yourself.”

Kracht made a noise that was like frowning. “Oh, we must be in an accelerated Cerise timeline. They don't come around very often. If you come with me I can get you something to help you push down those violent impulses and remain in control.”

The nymph looked back over at Aegis. “Do you have any idea what the hell this guy is talking about?” Aegis shrugged.

“He wouldn't even tell us his name before we got here.” Aegis said.

“Yeah, just asked us,” Aeon glanced at the robot honour guard standing around them, “rather forcefully, to come and help find Aegis' friends and kill Bae.”

“Bae?” The nymph asked.

“Bae is the agent of the Monitor.” Kracht interrupted, a distinct tone of irritation seeping into his voice. “The spy.”

“But D'Neya killed him.” The nymph insisted. “It cost her her life but she did it.”

“Almost but not quite.” Kracht said. “Bae is currently being held in the medical wing on the next level down. It is important to bear in mind that this is a time sensitive round. Right now in the Class 0 cells a dead goddess, amongst others, is fundamentally undermining the structural integrity of this prison. We have two hours maximum before the tipping point is reached and everyone still in this facility dies. To ensure that the Intense Struggle reaches an optimum outcome Cerise, Aegis and Clara must escape and Bae must die.”

Numerous questions and comments jostled for attention within the nymph, but she found herself saying: “My name isn't Cerise, either.”

Kracht grimaced. “Not Aph” the nymph shook her head, “nor Cerise?” and again. “Concerning... Okay fine. This is noteworthy enough, I will accede to listen to your circumstances on the way to the lower level.”

Kracht turned on the ball of his foot and without waiting for confirmation started back towards the cell block gates, the guard robots turning and moving in more or less unison. Aeon, Aegis and the nymph all moved to head in this direction. Aeon and Aegis were idly bickering; Aeon lacking his tool really wanted to borrow one of Aegis' gauntlets, but Aegis was adamant that he wouldn't be able to use them effectively. It was an argument that had clearly been ongoing since they had got out of their cells. The nymph mused as to why her name or lack thereof was so important to Kracht. Nobody was really paying attention to Amethyst as she stopped short in front of Kracht.

“So you have the freedom of this entire prison and your intention is to rescue just these specific three people and leave everyone else to die?” She demanded. “Tell me if I've misread the situation somehow.”

“I'm operating on a much larger scale than you can realize.” Kracht said. “This is necessary to ensure that an unbiased contestant wins this battle, which is necessary to limit unnecessary variables when it comes to All Stars.”

“And that's important enough that you'll let all these people die?” She gestured around her to the prisoners bound in heavy electrosteel restraints to immobile slabs and to those trapped in electrified cells, ending the gesture with an outstretched palm reaching towards Kracht.

“Yes.” He said simply.

The nymph had no understanding of how Amethyst's magic was controlled through an armband that had been confiscated from her. She didn't know the intense calculations that were required to bend the laws of physics for her own ends and how the armband automated this difficult process making it an almost vital component for Amethyst to cast any spell. As such she was not as impressed as she really ought to have been when, without a word she completed the script she'd been manually running through for the last few minutes and in doing so unleashed a hyper blast from her palm. The laser lanced through Kracht's chest, right through where his heart would have been if he'd had one. Chunks of chartreuse ore shot out behind him, scattering among the thin dirt of the faux prison yard.

In the next moment Amethyst was on one knee, her forehead beading with perspiration, her breath ragged. Kracht had stumbled back a couple of paces but managed to keep his footing. Amethyst's spell had blasted a hole right through him, but Kracht wasn't dependant on trivial things like internal organs. Without any further comment he said: “Kill her.”

And then all hell broke loose.

269 Days To Go

It was an incredible to see a place so bright, so clean and shining and new. She was stood at the doorway to an enormous ballroom decorated in gold and white with the occasional splash of crimson. Nothing was broken or rusted or half rotted away. Which was to say nothing of the people. The sheer number of people, dressed in their finest suits and gowns. Standing here at the threshold was almost enough to give her a panic attack.

It was going to be okay. She had Proxy beside her. This wasn't an anticipated scenario so their responses were rather limited, essentially just able to follow her instructions and make some small talk. Still their presence beside her was comforting.

She wished she was better dressed. Ghost had offered her a beautiful midnight black gown with matching elbow length gloves of some thin and delicate material. She'd declined, she'd wanted a suit. When Ghost said they would reschedule the trip so they could acquire an appropriately immaculate suit for her, she'd almost thrown a fit. She'd been promised a trip out for her birthday and after the fiasco that had been her halfway day she was going to have it. So she was wearing one of Proxy's backup suits, equally worn and frayed in certain spots, a nice rich purple. Ghost had described it as byzantium.

To top off the outfits they were both wearing masquerade style masks, after all this was The Ivory Masque. Proxy's matched their outfit, while she was wearing the midnight black one with gold flourishes that would have looked great if she'd been wearing the complete outfit.

The instructions from Ghost:
1. Leave the moment that the actual contestants arrive. You are not ready for a live battle scenario just yet.
2. If you see an opportunity to grab any masks without attracting attention, do so.
3. Have fun, love you.

She took a deep breath and stepped into the ballroom. Her attire garnered a couple of critical glances but only for a moment and then they were back to their private conversations. Part of her had kind of half-expected that her presence would make everyone stop and they'd all stare at her judgementally or laugh her out of the building or something.

Another part of her had half-expected, no quarter-expected or even less, that they would look at her and recognize her and invite her into their conversation. As time had passed she'd visited the gallery less and less, but she did still visit from time to time, and now here they were all of her friends standing before her in the flesh. She knew it was stupid to have hoped that they would know her like she knew them but some small part of her had hoped that.

With Proxy by her side she made her way through the throngs. Here and there she had to restrain herself from shouting out because oh my god there's Anna in a beautiful black dress with golden stars and crescent moons, only slightly spoiled by the stains of spilled silver ichor, and she's talking to Vera who is wearing an equally exquisite glittery red dress with a slit up to the thigh for mobility, and ooh there's her razorwhip sheathed at her hip. She would love to go over there and pick up some pointers, but she held fast. She was here with a clear objective.

It was Proxy who spotted her, politely coughing to draw her attention. Off in one corner of the room was a woman in an understated grey dress and matching mask/nun's habit combination (Sister Clara of course). She was stood in a group with a scrawny teenager in an ill-fitting suit and a woolen cap that looked distinctly out of place (it took her a moment to identify Keagan), though the most immediately eye-catching was the enormous decaying cactus owl thing with a full sized coffin strapped to its back glowing ominously red(she had no idea what this thing was supposed to be). She made a beeline towards the small group.

“Aph?” Clara asked. “There's something different about you.”

She shook her head firmly. “My name isn't Aph, it's Enyo.” She had taken the name from the protagonist of Black Thorn of Seven. Enyo of Seven was the dedicated, after a fashion, bodyguard of the beautiful necromancer Ascension Heptades. After a moment of thought she added, “And this is my friend Proxy.”

“No matter what name you're going by it is so good to see you, dear.” Sister Clara said with a smile. “This is Keagan,” he gave a small wave, “and this is... well I never caught their name.”

She glanced at Keagan who shrugged. ”Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Mm, well the thing is they seem to be suffering from prolonged exposure to a fully manifested death omen, I could probably offer some assistance with disentangling the two of them. A-Enyo, you'd be able to help me, right?”

“Of course.” And so they did. Enyo, Proxy and Keagan all working together managed to hold down the enormous cactus creature while Sister Clara disentangled the death omen's influence. It took five minutes of terrified quacking that drew quite a bit of attention from the crowd, but was just offputting enough that nobody hurried over to assist. After that the huge coffin fell away from the cactus owl with an audible pop. Proxy hauled the coffin outside, while Keagan went to get fresh drinks for the group and Enyo and Sister Clara found themselves alone (save for the cactus owl who hadn't said a single word so far and didn't seem to be about to start now).

“I've been thinking about this moment for so long,” Enyo admitted, “and I never thought about what I'd actually do when it got here.”

“It's okay, dear.” Sister Clara said, not quite understanding but still sympathetic to the changes she saw in the nymph. And it was okay. They drank a glass or two of non-alcoholic ichor together, they explored the palace, took a tour of the ritual room, before returning to the ballroom and dancing a slow dance together. It was wonderful and over much too fast.

Eventually she had to run, the sounds of raised voices and objects smashing indicated that whatever battle this was, its contestants had arrived. It was with a sadness that she said goodbye, for now, to Clara and returned home with Proxy and an angry death spirit in a coffin in tow. It was the best, and only, birthday she had ever had.

The nymph ducked beneath the black and red tape upon which was printed the phrase

SACRILEGIOUS ZONE: IMMINENT SPIRITUAL HAZARD.

Despite the clear and intense terror that this warning promised the reality was that beyond the tape lay... just more boxes.

One open box contained a stack of frayed and crumpled prayer sheets, which had at some point tipped and spilled into the walkway. Another contained a small heap of folded robes, mostly ultramarine in colour or at the very least using it as an accent, and all of them too bulky for human bodies. There were paintings, beautifully rendered, that showed a recurring iconography involving robots, a half mechanical person, a man in a red suit and inevitably an explosion. The nymph leafed through a couple before getting bored.

She held little interest in the religious politics of this world, but it was a distraction from the fact that another one of her friends was dead. Not her fault this time, or at least not as directly her fault. If she hadn't spent so long arguing with that bastard Kracht... She brushes the thought away. It probably wouldn't have made that much of a difference.

The nymph continued deeper into the profane warehouse eventually noticing a small box borderline encased in the Sacrilege Tape. Curiousity getting the better of her she picked it up and shook it a little. She felt as the weight of a single object, maybe the size of a sports ball, though a touch heavier, as it bounced from side to side, and then surprisingly started complaining.

“Stop that wretched h-heathen.” The voice was harsh and electronic, crackling as it stuttered. The nymph cried out, dropped the box (eliciting further cries of discomfort) and took several strides backwards. “It isn't e-enough that you depose me, have my life's w-work declared blasphemy, and reduce me to this... to have the n-n-nerve to come and poke at me like I'm some h-human sideshow attraction. The cruelties of your f-false god have certainly rubbed off his congregation...”

The nymph listened for a minute as the thing in the box complained about its circumstances, never quite reaching anything approaching a conclusion. She knew that the right thing to do here would be to free the whatever it was from the box. It was the kinder thing to do and furthermore if it was opposed to the doctrine of the Monitor as strongly as it said it was definitely an ally. But part of her wanted to slip away and pretend she'd never found it. She was exhausted, physically yes but emotionally too. After the deaths of so many of her friends she just wanted to find a corner she could crawl into and not think any more.

From behind her a clearing of a throat.

The nymph turned around. Standing there, with a crackling electric baton outstretched was Sister Clara. Or alternately something that looked like Sister Clara. She had an expression on her face that looked as harrowed as the nymph felt. “Tell me that's really you.” She said.

The nymph thought for a moment. “When we first met you said it was a shame I hadn't ever been given a name... and you asked what I would like to be called. It's a small thing  and I didn't have an answer for you, but nobody had ever bothered to ask me that before.”

“Oh you poor thing.” Sister Clara laid down her baton on a nearby pile of techno-rosaries and opened her arms to pull the nymph into a tight embrace, but she took a step backwards. It took all of her effort to not just brush past this safety measure, and only the thought of what had happened to D'Neya stopped her.

“You too.” she said.

“In the swamp,” As she recalled the memory Sister Clara reached up and brushed back her veil, “you gripped my hand so tightly. As if you'd never been touched before. I wanted to gather you up in my arms then and there and hold you and tell you it was going to be okay.”

The nymph could feel tears beginning to form, she struggled to form the words to confirm Clara was who she said she was, and so simply nodded, and immediately Clara was by her side, her arms wrapped around her.

“I'm here now.” she said. “We're going to get through this together.”

The nymph shook her head as tears began to fall. “But its just us now. Assuming we can kill Bae at this point then its just you and me versus the Monitor, and for all the good my help will do you it might as well just be you.” Sister Clara held her tighter and shushed her soothingly, but the nymph refused to be soothed, and more and more of her anxieties spilled out. “I'm worthless. I don't even know why I'm here in this fight. I'm less valuable in a fight than either of the literal children that were selected. I-I'm just dead weight.” Her deluge of words dissolved into incomprehensible sobbing.

“Breathe.” Sister Clara said. “Please dear, just take some deep breaths. I don't think you are worthless. It doesn't matter whether or not you're a skilled fighter or a powerful mage or whatever. You're worth something to me no matter what.” They stood locked in each others embrace for several minutes, the nymph slowly regaining her composure, until a distorted electronic cough nearby snapped them back to reality.

“I'm sorry about eavesdropping on your t-tender moment.” The voice in the box said. “But I happened to overhear you're looking to fight the M-Monitor,” The voice, despite, presumably lacking the physical equipment to do so, spat the word as if it had personally offended him, “and I think maybe I could be of some assistance.”

99 Days To Go

The sour mood in the manor had improved after her visit to The Ivory Masque. She redoubled her efforts in training and the place felt a little less empty with the addition of the coffin bound death omen Lanmò. At first they made a couple of attempts to subjugate Proxy's body for their own, but each time Enyo patiently disentangled them in the same way she had seen Sister Clara do, and eventually they seemed to get the message.

Lanmò didn't seem to want to kill or murder like she had assumed at the beginning. They were content to do very little only wishing attention when something died. Enyo attended more funerals for spiders and mice and other insects than generally would have been considered reasonable, but that, along with a little papercraft coffin once every couple of days, seemed to keep Lanmò happy.

Subsequently it was Lanmò's insistence that had brought Enyo out of the house and off into the far unkempt corners of the garden where she found poor Fox's body. That had been a really bad day. She had wept in her room for the rest of the evening and not even felt guilty for missing her training.

The next morning she'd awoken to scratching at her door and opened it up to find Fox revived and playful and harbouring a faint red aura. After some careful scrutiny to ensure that Lanmò wasn't using Fox as a puppet or doing anything otherwise insidious Enyo had been overjoyed that Fox was back, and on top of that they were more bold and affectionate than ever.

Her timetable had changed a little over the months. After the disaster that was Halfway Day Ghost had added an extra optional session in between Dinner and Free Time called Emotional Openness. It was a daily opportunity for her to vent her frustrations and be heard. Ghost hadn't quite promised to accommodate her requests but they did at least seem to try.

Weapons Practice had spilled out of its individual slot and become an ever present threat, after Proxy had attacked her while she was eating lunch one day. She had complained to Ghost that Proxy was malfunctioning again and been informed that this was an intentional test of her reflexes. Since then it had become a semi-regular occurrence, and every time Enyo would complain about it later that day in Emotional Openness. Ghost would apologize but reassert the necessity of it and thus the cycle would begin anew.

Magic Practice was still much the same, but now with the addition of live targets; shambling corpses that Lanmò seemed to have an unlimited supply of. They weren't the most threatening or difficult to dispatch opponents but they were a step up from the cardboard targets she had been working with previously.

For the last couple of weeks Ghost had been mentioning that there was a new and exciting kind of Specialized Training in the works and today they announced it was finally ready. It was currently lunch time. Enyo had decided that two crème eggs were an appropriate replacement for lunch. Fox was up on the dining table happily gobbling up a packet full of ham that was supposed to be for Enyo's sandwiches. Proxy was eyeing them carefully.

“Is there a problem with foxes eating ham?” Enyo asked, confident that even if there would normally be a problem it didn't matter Fox because was a special fox who could eat whatever they wanted.

“I'm obviously not an expert but I think it's okay in moderation and try not to leave out so much food they become dependant on you.”

Enyo gave Fox a gentle scritch on their head and they rubbed against her playfully. “Too late for that.” she said with a grin.

“My beloved daughter, today Magic Practice is cancelled, and we'll be beginning your new Specialized Training when you are finished with your... 'lunch'.”

“Exciting.” said Enyo. “Do I get to know it is in advance or is this another one of your fun surprises?” It turned out it was another one of their fun surprises. As soon as she said “Okay I'm ready.” something hummed to life in Proxy's right arm and suddenly everything was going black.

----

She awoke in a sterile metal room lit only by a projection flickering on the wall before her. She was sat upon an uncomfortable metal folding chair. As she returned to consciousness she watched the events playing out before her. It was black and white footage of someone that looked a lot like her alongside Sister Clara in bare concrete corridors fighting against a horde of walking corpses. Occasionally the perspective changed and someone else was depicted in some similar concrete hallway. She watched for a minute as the recording showed her B, Aegis, D'Neya, Larus, Trickster, Cabaret.

Blindsided by... well... everything. It took Enyo a moment to realize where she was/what was happening. Ghost had talked about The Database before. It was where The Monitor lived and it would be the place where she would kill him. This couldn't be the real thing, but the imitation was impressive.

Okay, so if she was in The Database then there would be someone else in here with her. One of the people from the cameras, except not Cabaret because they were the fake. She really hoped she didn't have to deal with the fake as well. First priority would be finding them and coordinating their efforts. Enyo stood up and noticed as a scrap of paper fell to the floor. Quickly she bent down and grabbed it. It said, in very precise writing: 'Trickster. Tapestry Repository. You can't miss him.'

“Trickster? Really?” She sighed and scrunched up the paper and tossing it off into the corner. “Fine.” She headed for the door, carefully opening to check the corridor before leaving and then set off in search of the Tapestry Repository.

----

Sometime later Enyo was standing in the Monitor's private vault. Face to face with the machine she existed to kill. And she couldn't move. Fucking Immobilization Resistance Training. It was still once a week and she still wasn't making any progress.

”It is impressive that you got this far ███, not in line with my predictions at all. But this is where it ends. It is considered in bad taste to kill your own contestant directly, but something something think of the data. I'll come up with some kind of justification later, if and when I'm challenged on my actions.”

Enyo barely listened to his monologue, desperately trying to find the strength inside herself that Ghost said existed, that would allow her to break these bonds. It was useless. The Monitor, finally done with his speech was picking up a gun.

”Anyway enough procrastinating. Time to crown Trickster the winner of the Intense Struggle. Goodbye ███.”

Without any further hesitation he pointed and shot. Everything faded to black and the words YOU DIED appeared before her, huge and red and condemnatory.

“What the fuck.” she murmured to herself as the world flickered off and then she felt someone removing a helmet she hadn't known she was wearing. As the helmet slid off she found herself in a bedroom she hadn't seen before with a bookshelf full of video games and a top of the line games console emitting a soft orange glow. Proxy helped her out of the VR controlsuit that she had been fitted with.

“How are you feeling my dear daughter?”

“I'm... okay.” she said. “Feeling a little bit frustrated that despite all my efforts in the end I failed because of...”

“Immobilization is a powerful tool in a Grandmaster's toolkit. I believe that with perhaps two sessions a week we can overcome it.”

Enyo groaned at the prospect of more Immobilization Resistance Training, but given the circumstances didn't complain.

Once she was out of the controlsuit, she flopped herself down on the bed and Proxy hurried off to get her a glass of Doctor Lorrden (the soda's full name was Doctor Lorrden's Funtime Beverage Potion and it tasty like sugary rat poison but she'd kind of grown to like it).

“Let's talk more about the simulation. How do you think you did. Walk through it from beginning to end.”

”I was a lot sloppier at the start than I would have liked.” Enyo admitted. “I took longer to work out what was going on, and then I got so lost when I was looking for the Tapestry Repository.” She pushed herself up and sat on the edge of the bed. “Like I know redundancy is this guy's whole thing but the sheer amount of floppy discs. I thought I was never leaving the Floppy Repository. I was getting ready to build a little floppy disc house and settle down there.”

“My data may not map 100% to the real physical space of the Database, but if we make it a Specialization Training from now on there are ways to navigate there that you can learn.” Ghost said. “What about Trickster?”

”Lost cause.” She said. “He was just screaming about his sister – does he even have a sister? She's not in the gallery is she? - and setting tapestries on fire if they looked at him funny.” She shimmied over to the bookcase of video games and started leafing through as she talked. “Seemed like more trouble than it was worth to try to get him on side.”

“You left without trying. Even Trickster could have been a valuable ally, if you had actually tried to get his assistance.” Ghost said. “At no point did you consider the Mana Repositories?”

Enyo had pulled loose a game box featuring a garish orange lizard in an equally garish hawaiian shirt, she examined it with brief curiosity before pushing it back. “Well a) you've always told me that given my abilities the Mana Repositories will be the most heavily guarded location in the entire Database and b) the way I was going I was just lucky I ever managed to leave Floppy Disc Hell.”

“The power you could acquire is so substantial that it is more than worth the risk.” Ghost observed. “You performed well against the guard robots.”

”Yeah, but wouldn't The Monitor just put those mana dampener thingies on them?” Proxy returned with an ice cold glass of Doctor Lorrden and Enyo sipped it gratefully.

“Don't worry about that.” Ghost said unhelpfully. “Was there anything you wished to ask me?”

Enyo was examining another game, a simple white box with a beautiful, if difficult to parse, logo. The box proclaimed loudly that it was a critically acclaimed MMO with quite an extensive free trial. Enyo slid it away, and turned away from the bookcase of games entirely. Those things would eat up all her Free Time if she let them. It took her a second to process what she'd been asked whereupon she responded simply: “The gun?”

“The data I have on the Database is limited, the Monitor even less so. He probably wouldn't use a gun in reality. I'm still refining the simulation.”

“Oh huh yeah.” Enyo said, remembering something that had slipped her mind earlier. “How did you get that footage of me and Sister Clara. That's not something that ever happened.”

“Don't worry about it my dear one.” Ghost replied, and would not be baited into further discussion.

The robot called Proxy refused to discuss further the details of their offer out in the middle of a busy wax cylinder data transposition line, and so begrudgingly the nymph followed them into a small playback room. It was a small circular room with a podium like device at its centre from which emerged a brass trumpet. A single metal folding chair was set up in front of the machine, otherwise the room was completely absent of any concessions to the idea that someone might actually desire to use it for its intended function.

Proxy punched a code into the plinth machine and then made a gesture towards the seat that indicated for the nymph to sit.

“I'm okay thanks.” She said. She watched in silence as Proxy folded the chair back up and laid it against the wall at the edge of the room. “So about Aph?”

“Ideally you wouldn't have to know about her at all.” Proxy said. “Some of this information will be quite upsetting.”

“Well, if you didn't want to talk about her you shouldn't have brought her up.” The nymph said. “Who is she?”

“She is a version of you.” Proxy said. “Given different circumstances she is what you would have become.”

“And you need me to become her now?” The nymph asked.

“Fuck no.” Proxy replied quickly. “Yes Aph is powerful, she's a living thaumaturgical calamity. The more power she absorbs the more she loses herself as a person. And it's like a snowball effect; exponential growth in power but exponential deterioration of everything else. Alas to really grasp what Aph is a demonstration is necessary.” As Proxy spoke a faint rumbling grew louder and closer until a portion of the wall opened up revealing a track upon which an enormous wax cylinder was moving towards them.

“This seems like an awful way of storing information.” The nymph observed.

“Backups and redundancies.” Proxy said. “If there's one thing the Monitor is afraid of it is losing his precious data. Works out for us though. As you say this is one of the worst ways of storing information; huge and unwieldy, requires a bespoke device to read, difficult to search even if you know exactly what you are looking for, and impossible to access remotely. Even the Monitor doesn't have infinite resources, so low priority repositories like this one go unguarded.”

As they spoke automated extendable arms lifted the heavy wax cylinder, slotted it into the plinth at the centre of the room and retracted. Finally the opening in the wall closed back up, the seams only just about visible now the nymph knew where they were.

“This is data gathered from quantum probes anchored in alternate versions of this battle.” Proxy was carefully turning a dial and the brass trumpet was repositioning itself along the height of the cylinder, and slowly the cylinder began to rotate.

“Aph engulfed in Trickster's superheated blue flame shows no sign of injury or acknowledgement of physical pain. Emotional status: openly weeping and screaming. Positioned to pin Trickster into a corner (Violet Dormitory C, southwestern corner), given emotional state likely unintentional. Trickster displays acute emotional indications of fear.”

The nymph listened speechlessly as the events were recounted by a flat emotionless voice, the incongruity between the clinical tone and its subject matter only serving to make it feel even more abstract and alien.

“Transcript  begins: Aph: 'If you really loved me you would never have hidden your true self from me like this. You never loved me! This was all fun for you, right, to toy with an innocent girl's heart?' Trickster: 'I'm sorry babe. I just... I think if we both step back and take a breath we'll see that this wasn't such a big deal and we'll be laughing about it tomorrow.' Aph: 'Not a big deal? I'm at my lowest point and to you that's not a big deal?' Trickster : 'No no I'm sorry. That's not what I meant. I meant'.”

“Here Aph leaps for Trickster and tears him apart. Her touch is white hot and his body rips easily. Wounds are scorched as they are made. She digs out his heart and it incinerates in her hands. Aph continues to tear at Trickster's corpse for a full minute after his death. When her rage subsides, in the seconds before the round ends officially, she shows no signs of remorse, or even recognition of what she has done.”

“That was me?” The nymph's voice quivered with horror. “I could never become that.”

“Maybe there's no clear path where you as you are now could become exactly the version of Aph you just heard,” Proxy agreed, “but that isn't to say that you could never do anything like that.”

The nymph just shook her head in disbelief. “No, I'm not like that.” she repeated. “That's not me.”

“Maybe you're right.” Proxy said. “The Aph as depicted here was formed in a way that predisposed her to violence. It is my estimation that you do not share that trait. Let me play for you a scenario where Aph becomes overwhelmed by foreign mana.”

“You don't have to-” The nymph protested. “I think I get the idea.” But the robot was already tuning the dial, and the cylinder was beginning to turn again.

“Observations on confrontation between combatants Aph, Clara Jungfrau, D'Neya, several replicas (including Konka Rar (fled), Murdoch Miles (deceased; dissolved into mana and absorbed),  The Sunset (deceased; power core shattered, briefly reanimated), Iris (deceased; head vaporized, heart eaten),  Lutherion Maw (deceased; decapitated) and Thane (deceased; extreme skeleton expansion)), and numerous Cervaled Falls A-rated security robots.”

“Aph demonstrates seemingly limitless mana reserves, ability to learn and mimic enemy spells from observation and mana samples. Her ability to diffuse enemy spells and absorb the component mana, previously a function of her mana absorption unit (now broken), has evidently been naturalized. Can manifest various forms of energy as weapons but possesses tendency to attack wildly; big swings with obvious tells. Increasingly unstable, her emotions vary wildly from one moment to the next, violence seems to be a self-justifying action.”

“D'Neya continues to attempt to use others as pawns (see replicas Iris and Murdoch Miles). Attempted to flee the confrontation towards isolation cell B5 (records as to the occupant of the room rendered unreadable, likely Eon's influence), victim of coilgun blast to the abdomen. Left to bleed out. Likely Aph would have devoured her mana if not subsequently incapacitated. No transcript available.”

“Clara mostly reactive in this scenario. Gravitates towards a supportive position, using her abilities to heal and augment her allies. Almost competent physical fighter when pushed to it. Had Aph off-balance through intimidation alone, but failed to press the advantage. Psionically immobilized by replica Thane.”

“Transcript begins: Aph: 'You said that you'd marry me. You said that we could be together.' Clara: 'Lets not be hasty, love. We can talk about this.' Aph: 'Fuck you, you old hag! I don't want to talk. I want to feel the unlife draining from your ancient heart. I want to snap every one of your bones individually and then make you feel it as I knit them all back together.' Clara: 'Aph... I know you're in there Aph, and I'm sorry I didn't know how to let you down gently. I never meant to hurt you.' Aph: 'Blah blah blah blah blah. I've had enough of listening to your snivelling. I've had enough of you trying to worm your way into my good graces. It's pathetic! You're pathetic! Just a weak old woman who doesn't even know how to die properly.'”

“I've heard more than enough can we please stop it here.” The nymph has been pacing restlessly, her arms held close to her as though trying to shield herself from this knowledge.

“Here Aph manifests a blade of ice and stabs Clara wildly, continuing to do so long after the point of death. Replica Thane: 'It's over. She's dead. We really need to go.' Aph induces sudden catastrophic bone growth within replica Thane, then continues to stab and call Clara's corpse pathetic until she is pacified with a mana dampener by a security robot under the control of replica Kracht.”

“You've made your point.” The nymph slumps down against the wall, “Aph is bad. I am bad. I get it.”

“That wasn't the point of my demonstration at all.” Proxy said. “I wanted you to understand that Aph is strong, and that you have the potential to be as strong as her.”

“I don't want to be that.” The nymph snapped. “It should be obvious. How could anyone play that recording and think it would be aspirational?”

“And I don't want you to be that either.” Proxy said. “There's three things you need to stand a chance against the Monitor. Number one is a reason to fight. It sounds simple but Aph never had it. She had plenty of excuses to fight but never a reason. What about you?”

The nymph thought about the road that had led her here. All her best intentions to unite together spoiled time and again. She thought about B, a boy she'd never even really gotten an opportunity to know, lying dead in a swamp. She thought about Aegis  fighting for a lost cause because it was the right thing to do. She thought about Larus and D'Neya each of them taking a blow for her and dying because of it. Even Trickster didn't deserve what had happened to him.

She thought of Bae, a creature created by the Monitor, that knew nothing but his exacting standards and punishment if he failed to meet them. Of the remorse in his voice as he lay dying on the cathedral steps.

And she thought of Clara, somewhere in this cold and inhuman place, and of the small kindnesses she had shown her in this ordeal. For a fleeting moment she allowed herself a thought of what if they won, what if they got to leave together and have a life together outside of here, in whatever form that might take. But it was too much to try to imagine and it made her heart ache. Instead she said: “All I have in this world are reasons to kill that bastard. What else do I need?”

“Item number two is sheer power.” Proxy had no face upon which to smile, but a hint of a smirk was audible in their voice. “Hence my demonstrations.”

“I still don't quite buy that I can become that.” The nymph said uncertainly, “But for the sake of argument what's the final thing?”

“Discipline.” Proxy replied. “A lifetime of rigorous practice in the use of your unique abilities.”

“Well...” The nymph said with a sigh. “It was a nice idea while it lasted. We'd be lucky to get a couple of hours of practice in before the Monitor finds us and forces an end to this thing one way or another.”

Proxy wordlessly retrieved the folding chair, set it up next to the nymph's slumped form and took a seat. “I've been fitted with a device called a mana-writer. It's a device that can edit the data contained in mana. In you.” The nymph eyed them suspiciously. “Don't worry I don't want to erase the memories of your beloved friends. What would be the use of teaching you how to fight if you no longer had a reason to? What I suggest is that we replace that empty lonely year or so before you were brought here.”

“With what exactly?”