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Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

"We'll take a nice relaxed stroll around the compound, take stock what and who is where and look for escape routes. And most importantly: are quiet and dont make a fuss"
Quietly protest:

"A stroll? The hell do I look like to you, one o' them puffed up inner-worl'er assholes with a walkin' stick, that stupid hat n' one o' them glass eyepatch things? Least he could do is make us less bored. We're guests!"

Look around a bit, to make sure no one is listening to us carefully, then whisper

"But yeah, we should try n' find a way to get the hell out o' here if Mr. Bogs comes early. It ain't even it that's scarin' me that much, I just dun' like that mutant thing with it."

Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

Turn 15
((Previously on REKT: Beyond the Edge:
"Welcome back, Teaw," Vrish says softly. "Do you want to help Marina answer some questions? It is her turn with the Nazas, now. She did say she wanted to know how your teammates died. Perhaps, if she cooperates, I can oblige. What do you think?"
<ten more minutes rehashing the past five episodes>

And now, the conclusion:
  "As long as it doesn't involve any demonstrations," Teaw says. She cradles her arm awkwardly, trying to keep from bumping it.
  "Vrish, do you know what REKT is?" Sukava asks, in a serious tone. "It's us. We are REKT troops. We are the people who serve because the alternative is death. And I want to say that I won't talk because of loyalty and honor, but I don't have loyalty towards either the Nemesis or the people running it. And there is no dishonor in surrendering your captor's secrets for the sake of survival. In fact, I've only been up and about for a few days. I am as fresh as they get, and I would lose no sleep selling out the people you think I work for."
  Vrish listens in mild amusement.
  "No, Vrish, I won't talk because giving up information to you would be dishonorable to me. I have been interrogating squirrels since I was five. I've extracted screams from the mute! I've castrated more men than you've likely ever met! And to give up information to someone as bad, shitty and incompetent at this as you would bring more dishonor on me than anything else I can think of. You took every point of this interrogation and you fucked it up. We are supposed to be professionals. With standards. But you... You bring shame to the art of torture."
  The squid's eyes flash, as if out of anger, but no - a smile twitches at the corner of his lips.
  "So do your best, you fukcing octopussy," Sukava finishes defiantly.
  Teaw swallows. "Okay, maybe you can do a little demonstration," she offers.
  But Vrish only laughs. "I would have done this quite differently, had I known one of you were an experienced interrogator. I would have put you in separate rooms from the beginning. I would've done a fair bit more dismemberment. But what you don't realize is... I already have all the information I came for."
  Neither inmate buys it.
  "I'll explain," Vrish says pleasantly. "You're looking for work as mercenaries. You're desperate enough that you'd board a very hostile station to scavenge anything you could find. You even asked me if I had any jobs for you. You would never have done any of this if you had funds and supplies to return the Nemesis to top condition. Not only that, but thanks to what you've said, I'm quite confident that your ship even lacks the ability to contact the rest of Tartarus Inc."
  Marina opens her mouth to laugh this off.
  Vrish interrupts before she has a chance. "Please don't try to object. Your friend, Teaw, is among the worst liars I have ever seen. And that isn't even her real name."
  Marina closes her mouth, giving "Teaw" a little glare.
  "Moving on... You wouldn't be looking for work such as this if you weren't fully confident that you would be able to leave the station. Therefore, your engineers are working on repairing the warp coils, and they'll be done quite soon - likely within the day. With this in mind, I think it's a sound idea for us to arm Fuhodo Station's Docks-mounted cannons, and I'll say as much in my report. However, I also notice you've not once mentioned the Hy'sak Viscari. Can I take that to mean you haven't been included in any discussion of their plans?" Here Vrish Lisathl pauses and stares at Vynkor for a moment before concluding, "I thought as much. No, neither of you are going anywhere."
  Vrish opens his mouth to continue, but seems to reconsider - as though he has figured out something even more important, but doesn't feel particularly inclined to share. As they watch, he inserts the torturegun back into its slot on the Nazas and straightens his clothing. "I have pressing matters to attend to, unfortunately, so you'll have to be escorted back to your cell. I'll have them separate you later today. In the meantime - is there anything else you'd like to say before you leave?"
  Sukava shakes her head. "No questions, detective, just disappointment."
  Not-Teaw looks hopeful. "Can we - specifically I - have our shit back? I have splints in my medkit."
  "Mmm... No." Vrish spends little time pondering the question. He presses a button on a device beneath his sleeve, and four guards enter the room. Vrish warns them, "That one's arm is broken. Don't screw it up too much. Sedate her after you get her to her cell. We'll separate them and give her a splint." Then, to two of the guards, he says something in another language; they nod and leave the room in a hurry.
  The two remaining guards prepare the prisoners for transport through the facility; one of them smears a foul-smelling orange goo into Vynkor's wound, which numbs it immediately; the pain gradually subsides. Then he accidentally bumps it trying to get Vynkor to her feet, nearly making her pass out for a moment. Vynkor grimaces, and finally sighs. "Five-star resort prices, no-star shithole service."


  Samuel takes a step back from Hosef'Wa's glare (and rifle), intimidated. "We're his catspaws!" he blurts out quickly. "He has a job for us at the palace, and told us to go to you for a better bargaining chip. He told us to tell you his name and you'd help us!" In a quiet, terrified squeak, he adds, "Please don't shoot us!"
  Hosef'Wa's expression darkens slightly; he shows a clear lack of empathy or amusement. Actually, he's starting to look angrier, but at that moment Cole pushes his way past Samuel and speaks up. "We're some mercs Daneelo employed," the soldier says coolly. "There's some lady held prisoner in there that he wants us to get released. He suggested heading here to get some kind of weapon so we'd have an easier time of negotiating with them."
  "Hopefully this is a secure area," Polaris hisses warningly. "If anyone else hears that, we’re in for a much harder time.
  When the soldiers begin speaking, Hosef'Wa's demeanor changes slightly. He has little use and less respect for pathetic cowards and fools, but a warrior? That merits slightly less hatred. "Hmph," he mutters. "Yeah. I know of the girl. And Daneelo say I can help with 'negotiation'?"
  Cole nods.
  Hosef'Wa curses, holsters his weapon, and heads over to some crates in a dark corner.
  While Hosef'Wa digs through crates, Polaris and the others get a good look around. The room is somewhat akin to a "basement" and looks like it isn't part of the structure above - in fact, some of the walls are hewn straight out of rock, and the paneled floor looks relatively new. There are rows and rows of shelves in the center of the room, all piled high with various articles of weaponry - guns, melee, what have you. The walls and thereabout are piled with haphazardly-stacked metallic crates. It's unclear what the contents are, but each of them are stamped in some kind of alien script. None of the inmates can read any of it. In fact, there's very little Galactic Standard text anywhere in sight.
  After several moments, Hosef'Wa walks back with a crate in his two lower arms. With his upper two, he pries off the lid and tosses it to the floor with a cacophonous noise. "Is called Grarshkat," he growls unpleasantly. "Spiderbot, TD-23, Opitek-made. Would've made good profit off it, dozvosnat. You tell Big Daneelo we're even."
  The inmates peer inside and see an eight-legged robot - sleek, black and silver. He raises it out of the crate and drops it to the floor. As soon as it leaves his grasp, it springs to life; it lands softly, clatters and skitters about two paces away from Hosef'Wa and turns back to him, tilting its "head" "curiously" before growing deathly still.
  "Good enough for a gift? I show you how it work, or I find something else?"
  Cole and Estelle examine the bot with curious interest. Estelle, looking closely, notices that the two main "eyes" are reminiscent of some kind of weaponry barrels, and potentially turreted. She notices that the top of the spider's abdomen looks like it could "pop open", too, and sees a ring of what could be cameras dotted around the exterior.
  "So, what does it do, exactly?" Cole asks with an appreciative nod towards the bot.
  "Grarshkat know voice command in seven language, and obey hand signal when it can see. Is armed with two burst plasma pistol and concussive flash device on long recharge." As he speaks, Hosef'Wa demonstrates the hand signals, waving a hand about; the spider follows obediently and intelligently, skittering across the room, taking cover behind crates, crawling up the wall onto the ceiling and dropping to the floor near Polaris (twisting upright as it falls) at Hosef'Wa's bidding.
  "Armor on command: Grarshkat, annufka!"
  At this, the spider collapses into a dome on the floor, covered in black plates.
  "Grarshkat, kreshkat!"
  The spider's armor disappears; it stands and skitters back to Hosef'Wa's feet, clinking and clattering.
  "Grarshkat will only obey voices it is set to listen to," Hosef'Wa adds. "Setup can only be started by previous users. You will need to set up again when you give as gift."
  During all this, Samuel is paying very little attention. He's wandering around, looking at all the different guns, ammo cases, and melee weaponry on display. There's quite a lot of it. After a while, it starts to look rather samey. There are sniper rifles, too - specialized snipers. The REKT program doesn't provide any of those, so it catches his attention. Flechette cannons seem to be a thing, too. There are also a number of security... cameras? or perhaps turrets? at the edges of the room. Clearly, this guy doesn't like to take chances with security. There's lots else to look at, but sadly little time; Hosef'Wa has already finished his demonstration.
  "So, you take Grarshkat, yes?"
  "It's very impressive," Cole says appreciatively. "We'll take it. How do we set it up for new users?"
  Hosef'Wa grunts and glares, snarling as though Cole/Caleb ought to have been able to figure it out himself. "Is simple. You just press button - " here he stoops, pressing a little well-hidden button on its head. "Then you say 'grarshkat' - er, 'spiderbot' - and say 'change users' - and then each new user speaks. Can say anything. Does not matter what." He clears his throat and coughs loudly. "Spiderbot, change users!"
  The spiderbot's legs go stiff and straight, doubling its height. Little white-blue lights flash around its head and torso in a repeating pattern.
  Hosef'Wa says nothing, remaining pointedly silent. Instead he merely glances around between the inmates and motions meaningfully with his hands: a clear message of "This is the part where you do the thing."
  Making sure the spiderbot can hear him, Cole says, "We should all identify ourselves as users, guys. That way we'll be fine no matter who ends up giving it to them."
  "R-right," Estelle stutters, raising her voice. It sounds a bit squeaky. "Em, hello, l-little r-robot."
  "This is Polaris, spiderbot," Polaris says. Then, to his squadmates: "This may end up being worth our time after all. Spiderbot here seems like a very powerful bargaining tool."
  "For any kind of bargain we might need to make," Samuel agrees loudly.
  With everyone having spoken, Hosef'Wa presses the button on the back of the spider's head a second time, picks the whole thing up, deposits in in the crate and slams the lid back on it, all in one smooth four-armed motion. "Now you take grarshkat and go, dozvosnat. Out the back way." Glaring, he gestures towards a thick metal door at the far end of the room. "Out of my shop, humans. Big Daneelo and I are even." And with that, he walks towards the doorway through which he originally entered, not waiting to see the inmates off.
  After Hosef'Wa is out of earshot, Samuel worriedly comments, "If I had any doubts as to whether Daneelo is a big player on this station, they're dead now."
  Cole grins. "Definitely, given how the mere mention of his name was enough to get us that thing," he says, gesturing towards the crate.
  "We'd better get moving before he finds a reason to return." Samuel sighs and lifts the crate. It's heavier than he'd expected, and a bit of a strain to carry. "I'll take this," he grunts. "I'm not much use in a fight anyway."
  Giving a sharp nod of approval, Cole says, "All right, let's move out then. We have what we came for, and now we should see about getting our prisoner."
  There are no further protests, so the little group exits the building through the door Hosef'Wa had indicated.


  Alpha stands in front of the alien gang leader. The fysarian's name is so complicated that the members of Alpha individually decide to drop half of it. He's hardly paying any attention anyway, so he might not even notice - he's too busy experimenting with stuff in a pile of gear on the table, and only vaguely seems aware that Alpha is there at all.
  Buck clears his throat does his utmost to appear relatively professional. "Uh... Howdy, Feb... Keshor? We had some dealin's with Mokila - we've talked most of it over now, really, an' we're just waitin' to catch a ride off this shithole."
  "I'm Connley," Brom adds, offering a hand for a handshake. "Connley McKale! We're mercenaries, and -"
  "I don't care about your names," Feb Keshor interrupts. He's barely paying any attention to the inmates at all; he puts down what he's looking at and retrieves a laser pistol from the table.
  Brom, not much liking being interrupted, clears his throat and continues. "We made a few enemies by mistake before we happened across him, and they were closing in when he sent us here. I, of course, offered to stay and fight, but Mokila wouldn't have it."
  Feb Keshor, experimenting with the laser pistol, fires a short burst with it at the floor, producing a brief puff of smoke as a layer of grime vaporizes. "And you came here specifically... why?"
  This time, Buck starts in before Brom has a chance to open his mouth. "I'd much rather just sit back an' swig some at the Ponderance, but some shithead alien over there dun' wants us dead now 'cause we looked a him queer or somethin'."
  Feb Keshor sighs. "Oh, yeah? Which 'alien'?"
  "This fukcer was really ugly an' weird," Buck chuckles. "Imagine this - big lizard alien thing, walkin' on two legs like he was a man. Four arms, though, an' spikes on his head. Lots o' armor, too. Think he dun' had one o' them big ol' outworld shotguns. Was shootin' peacekeepers left an' right."
  At this description, Feb Keshor's expression darkens; for the first time, the fireteam has his full attention. "Mebasha??" he hisses. "You're on the run from Mebasha? Then why the hell did Mokila send you here?"
  Buck shrugs. "I dunno."
  "Mebasha's been staying with us while he's on the station." Feb Keshor turns his attention back to the table of gear, picking up an assault rifle. "He'll be back in a couple hours. You need to be gone by then. Understood?"
  At this moment, the three inmates realize that the gear on the table - guns, PDAs and all - looks exactly like that of Tartarus Inc. They exchange glances - they've all come to the conclusion at exactly the same time. Their situation might be a lot more delicate than they'd previously imagined. But Brom takes it upon himself to try to keep the conversation rolling. It wouldn't be good to be conspicuously silent. "I hear you loud and clear, Mr. Keshor!" he says. "We will vanish from this place with such speed as to leave you wondering if we were ever here at all!"
  Buck rubs the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. "Dunno why everyone's so scared of that Mebasha feller... He dun' looked so dangerous to me. Kinda reminds me o' Mr. Bogs, from that kid's cartoon." Then he looks up and adds, more seriously, "But hey, looks like everyone else dun' think so, so maybe I judged 'im wrong. Just give us a breather t' figger out where to go next, find a ride to hitch offworld, an' we'll leave you to... whatever y'all're doin'."
  "Is there anywhere we can plan our departure and route privately?" Brom asks. "I would prefer a site -"
  "Mister Keshor" interrupts Brom again, causing the latter even more annoyance. "Yeah, over there in the corner," the fysar mutters, pointing at an unused computer console. "No password on the comp." He's hardly paying attention, and probably missed at least half of what they said anyway.
  Brom and Buck saunter over to the unused console that Mr. Keshor indicated, and pretend to be searching for rides offworld. Buck whispers: "The hell do we do now?"
  "We should of course leave this facility!" Brom whispers back. "Did you see the gear on the table? One of the squads may have been captured, or worse! We need to get out before Feb recognizes us, and form a plan to determine their status. Follow me!"
  And so the pair begins to stroll - in the most lighthearted, inconspicuous manner possible - towards the exit. "Thank you for your hospitality!" Brom calls gaily, turning every head in the room.
  Feb Keshor looks up up from his work. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"
  "It is much appreciated!" Brom gives the grandest of waves, and Buck follows suit. They're almost at the doorway.
  At this, Febivo Keshor signals a few of his cronies, who step into Brom and Buck's path. The inmates try to step around, but the three aliens block the way. "Nobody leaves until it's safe," Feb barks. "I'll let you go when I get the signal from Mokila, but you're not getting out of here any sooner. Got it?" He examines the pair with what is perhaps the closest look he's given them since they've arrived. He's beginning to look the slightest bit suspicious. This probably does not bode well for Brom and Buck, who have a knack for attracting all forms of trouble.
  Meanwhile, Yuuji, wearing a deadpan expression as he watches his two "teammates" flounder about, finally turns to Feb Keshor with a slight bow. "I apologize for my colleagues," he says, and crosses the room to the two troublemakers. "We're all a bit eager to get away from yet another altercation, even after just being welcomed into your generous hospitality. I'll take care of this." Grabbing the dastardly duo by the collars, he drags them to the computer that Keshor had offered.
  After Brom and Buck, protesting profusely, are securely in the corner, Yuuji begins scolding them in a hiss. "What is wrong with you two!? Every single... person... in this room is looking for a reason to shoot us and you two have nothing better to do than run around like a pair of Grishcat kittens who got stung by an Octupal! Anything stupid you do could get us killed, and will probably reflect badly on the one meatbag we've met so far that hasn't tried to murder us! Stay low and act your age, not like two little boys moaning about boredom!"
  Brom and Buck say nothing. They seem to be completely bewildered by Yuuji suddenly taking charge, and have no clue how to handle themselves.
  Yuuji continues "So. We can't get out of here can't but we can try to find a corner where we won't get spotted by Mebasha when he comes by. Keshor will probably try to keep the fighting off his turf so will probably not stab us the second Mebasha arrives, so we have a chance to get out. We'll take a nice relaxed stroll around the compound, take stock what and who is where and look for escape routes. And most importantly: be quiet and don't make a fuss!"
  Buck initially protests. "A stroll? The hell do I look like to you, one o' them puffed up inner-worl'er assholes with a walkin' stick, that stupid hat an' one o' them glass eyepatch things? Least he could do is make us less bored. We're guests!" After thinking over it a moment, however, he adds, "Yeah, we should try an' find a way to get the hell out o' here if Mr. Bogs comes early. It ain't even it that's scarin' me that much, I just dun' like that mutant thing with it."
  At that moment, there's a bit of a disturbance behind them, - it seems Mr. Feb Keshor is being told something by one of his people that he really doesn't want to hear - something about somebody named "Kinorvan". Chattering furiously in fysarian, he tosses the REKT gear back on the table and storms out after his goon.
  Brom and Buck catch each other's glances. Is this yet another opportunity for mischief?


  After some time, Beta re-emerges in a corner of the Marketplace, through a back stairwell. The way behind them is blocked: many of the doors were one-way-only, not that they would have any desire to return.
  Of note is the fact that Samuel is no longer carrying the crate - instead, Cole now carries it, following an incident where Samuel (heavily out of breath) actually dropped the spiderbot on Cole's foot. The spiderbot seemed to be fine, but Cole's foot most certainly was not; all parties present expect it to bruise.
  This particular portion of the Markets seems largely vacant, especially compared to what they've been through previously. There is no busy scurrying about of shoppers - rather, a group of shifty-looking individuals sit in the shadows across the street, examining the inmates with ill intent.
  "Stay alert," Nilo whispers, on guard. "There is a chance we will be attacked for our cargo on the way."
  In the meantime, Saoirse taps at her PDA until she has a rough idea of where the Palaces ought to be. "That way," she says, pointing off into the distance. She's right, of course. Now it's just a matter of getting there.


  The trip between interrogation room and cell are fairly uneventful. There are only two guards this trip, and both of them seem to be in the mood for casual chitchat. The back-and-forth between the two is fairly banal and uninteresting - gossip, it sounds like, about something one of their mates claimed to do. The inmates take the opportunity to steal glances at their captors: a hiltorel and a fysar. Both seem moderately-armed, both with something that looks like a metal pipe and a basic plasma weapon. They carry some kind of pouches around their waist, too - possibly medical equipment or some such. It's also no surprise that they're carrying a set of keys on a loop. Could it get any more cliché than this? This particular group of aliens seem like they've watched one too many movies.
  The group finally comes to a halt in front of a door - a different one from last time, but in the same general area. The hiltorel reaches out with one of his lower pairs of hands and punches a code into the pad by the door; the lock clicks, and the door cracks open. Looks like there's more security this time around.
  As they file into the new cell, Sukava gets put in a corner while the guards lay Vynkor out on the floor. It's about this point that the guards realize that they've forgotten something.
  "Sedatives, Irado?" The fysar holds out a spindly hand.
  The hiltorel looks confused; his brows furrow above his wide, black eyes.
  "Hurry up - where's the medkit? Sedatives, splints?"
  "Irado" looks defensive. "I don't know, I thought you had it!"
  "Kalaki, he said you should bring it."
  "Well then where did Lisathl send those other two mal'kiin off to? Maybe they're getting it."
  "I wasn't paying attention."
  "Kap'shik kikof, Shikit. Big surprise."
  "Shikit" doesn't appear to be too bothered. "Hey, you weren't listening either, varboh."
  "Hard to listen when I have to deal with your mikibi eshana all the time."
  Shikit gets to his feet. "Fine then, you go get it yourself. I did my job, I'm out." He makes for the doorway, intending to leave.
  Irado is fairly upset. "Don't you dare, Shikit! I'll tell Kinorvan, you kifoval manen okkala mikari milagi!"
  This insult seems to be fairly severe; Shikit takes a step back as though he's been hit in the face. But he only laughs, revealing a wide mouth of sharp pointy teeth. "Nonaga! Big words for a danshi, eh? You must think you're clever. But Kinorvan won't listen to you anyway, varboh. Which of us has been around longer?" With a smirk, he makes his escape and closes the door behind him.
  "Mosan minoli ohkaka likiir vinala af akakaro kobba kan'ko," Irado grumbles, fuming. After a moment, he glances back at Vynkor. She's lying calmly on the floor, awaiting her splint. "I'll be right back," the squid assures her, as though she hadn't understood a word of the conversation. "Just need to pick up some kap'shik medical supplies."
  And with that, the squid fumbles with his keyring at the door and leaves the cell.
  Vynkor moves her arm a bit. It's not really functional, but it doesn't hurt anymore either... for now, anyway.
Have a question? Send me a PM! || I have a Patreon page up for REKT now! || People talking in IRC over the past two hours: Image

Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

Talvieno wrote:
Sat Aug 31, 2019 4:51 pm
"Stay alert," Nilo whispers, on guard. "There is a chance we will be attacked for our cargo on the way."
Samuel nods while regarding the shifty guys with an annoyed "mind your own darned business!"-glare. He's really getting tired of this station slowly, so he doesn't even have to put much effort into it.

With a lowered voice he then addresses his companions.
"The faster we move the less time anyone has to react."

Follow Estelle to the palace
Also keep an eye open for additional shifty characters
Last edited by F4wk35 on Sun Sep 01, 2019 1:42 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Apparently, sometimes stuff might happen.

Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

F4wk35 wrote:
Sun Sep 01, 2019 9:27 am
"The faster we move the less time anyone has to react."
I nod, just grunting in response as I begin to move towards the palace, still limping slightly from Samuel's expert box-carrying skills. How the hell does a janitor do his job without being able to lift boxes?!

I keep an eye on the rather unfriendly-looking guys across the way as I walk, and thank the FSM that my foot isn't broken, as I slowly get used to the pain to the point of just blocking it out.

I also look out for other shifty types, trying to spot any potential attackers.

Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

I put my PDA away and walk with the others towards the entrance of the Palace.
Lowering my voice to a whisper, I tell them
"And remember fellas, we're with the Lavloxeri division of FMU, we're looking for the Minas Maniri to get miss Kaquyu Adopan and the password is Dexin Ezagetxa. Got that?"
Warning: do not ask about physics unless you really want to know about physics.
The LT IRC / Alternate link || The REKT Wiki || PUDDING

Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

The ex-janitor (who argues that it is a heavy box with a heavy piece of murder and death inside...made of METAL and GUNS [both rather heavy things tu put into something]) frowns, remembering and memorizing the instructions again. Just as Estelle, he starts to whisper...

"Thanks for the reminder...we are keeping to the main streets as far as possible, right?"
Apparently, sometimes stuff might happen.

Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

"A minor setback for us is all this really is.
We'll be out of here in no-time, don't you guy worry.
Now, as Yuuji has suggested, we should look around, and take stock of our surroundings!
That was my very next plan! You're a quick thinker, like myself.
Now the first thing we ought to do is find a place that will keep us hidden in case Mebasha shows back up.
After that, possible emergency exits will take priority!
Let's try to stay low, and out of sight while we search; I don't want an unexpected arrival turning this place into a battlefield!"

Get up and glance about the room, noting doorways and windows not currently being guarded.
As I look, allow myself to briefly glimpse the rekt equipment lying on the table.
Continue to look about for possible hiding spots, including closets and cabinets.
Breaker of fortune cookies

Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

((Not canon but I couldn't resist

“Cole, are you able to move faster or do you need assistance?" Nilo asks.

"Nope, it's getting better as we go!" Caleb says cheerfully. "I'll be all better in a few minutes at most, I think."

At that precise moment, Caleb's entire leg falls off, hitting the floor with a thud.

"Holy crap, Frank! What did you do to my leg?!" Caleb cries, in equal parts horror and bewilderment. "I mean, how is this even possible?"

Frank has no idea, but he certainly doesn't like Caleb yelling at him. He cowers in fear. "Uhhhh I think you did that to yourself, the box wasn't THAT heavy!" He begins praying to the Great Dust Bunny in the Sky to help Caleb shift his focus elsewhere.

But Caleb is paying no attention at all; he's too busy screaming a single long letter "A" that I'm not going to bother writing here because it would only sound like "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" ad infinitum.

"C-Caleb!" Saoirse whispers. "I - I mean C-Cole! Y-you n-need to k-k-keep your v-v-v-v-voice down!" But Caleb hears her not; his scream completely drowns out her meek and timid voice.

Meanwhile, Nilo watches the whole ordeal with a deadpan, impatient stare. He folds his arms, waits, then checks his watch. Caleb's ability to hold a note for so long is almost impressive, but it's an utterly useless skill by Nilo's count. Already bored of it, he pulls up a local newspaper on his PDA and begins to read to pass the time.

Caleb is still pointing at his leg with both hands and screaming, when Frank interrupts him. "Caleb, what about those medical kits we got from that shop in the Market! We can fix it!"

"Fix it?!?" Caleb asks, with a wide-eyed stare. He turns back to his leg, which is still lying peacefully where it fell, and asks in all caps, "HOW DO YOU FIX A DETACHED LEG? OH I KNOW, WE'LL THROW SOME GAUZE AT IT, THAT SHOULD DO THE TRICK! WHAT A BRILLIANT IDEA, FRANK!"

"Y-you d-d-don't have to be m-m-m-m-m-m-mean," Saoirse stammers, sounding more like a motorboat with every passing second.

"Why does this always happen to me?" Caleb wails, imitating the exact thoughts of his player, as he leans upon the fourth wall. "Every single damn mission, I lose at least one of my legs! How long is this going to go on?!?!?"

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