You are Alabaster Soliloquy, siscon and mega tsundere.
Benjamin Gurlick, 47, of Diablo Grande, CA sits in his office reading yesterday's Sunday funnies. They never fail to put a smile on his rotund face. With a high-pitched belly laugh, he says to himself: "Oh, Marmaduke. You crazy dog."
His opposite number, Cynthia Strupple, 30, the team lead who covers the night shift, packs up her lunchbox and backpack. "Got it all covered from here, Ben?" She asks. Same question, every day, and now the same answer:
"Sure thing," he says, sipping coffee. But he almost spits it out again when he sees the hijinks Garfield got up to this week. Garfield, you crazy cat.
"Have a good one, Ben. See you in 12."
Alone again in his office, Ben folds the paper up and looks around. He checks his watch. 6:03 AM. He's three minutes into his 12 hour shift.
He sighs.
And then he spends the next twenty minutes sobbing.
It's a Monday morning ritual.
After he composes himself, he does his morning rounds through the server towers, performing his routine diagnostics, plus some additional checks instituted in the wake of the 3/10 hack. Aside from keeping the place tidy, this is all his life amounts to, and all it ever will. He's been maintaining this facility for 10-odd years, his life like a boat passing through a dark tunnel and picking up speed, like that infamous scene from Willy Wonka. There's no knowing, where it is we're rowing...
The most interesting thing to happen in the past few months was a surprise inspection by the company's CTO, Alex Best, who showed up to quiz him on the security protocols here. He thinks he pleased him. At least he assumes so; he hasn't been terminated yet. Ben, who is gay, was instantly attracted to Alex -- the young man's fit, slender body, his boyish smile, his delicate scent. His youth. He was a vision of Adonis, a Greek statue Ben could have happily fallen to his knees and worshiped. Ben found himself pining for Alex desperately. So it hurt all the worse when Alex said those words to him: "you are such a waste." Those words have been keeping Ben awake nights, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, playing them back. You are such a waste.
As pathetic as Ben knows it is, he still pines for Alex anyway; a beauty so far removed that reaching for it is like reaching for a distant star.
Back to reality. Ben is startled by the toot of the on-duty guard's golf cart's horn. "Got a delivery out at the docks they need you to sign for," the guard tells him.
Anything to break this monotony is welcome, as far as Ben is concerned. He treks to the docks, a walk so long it leaves him winded. A FedEx delivery man presents him with a tall crate on a dolly. It stands a couple inches taller than Ben, about the size of a small refrigerator. A shipping label lists the net weight -- 210.5 lbs -- but not the contents. Another sticker below it reads:
>DO NOT OPEN/HOLD FOR ALEX BEST
As Ben signs, the delivery man asks: "Where do you want it?"
"This way," Ben directs him, and leads him towards his office.
When the delivery man is gone, Ben anxiously sits at his office chair and stares at the crate for a long time, internally debating his course of action.
Why did Mr. Alex Best send such a package here? Why does he want it held? Surely this is why he was checking up on this place's security so recently.
After agonizing minutes of vacillation, minutes that drag into hours, he finally decides. He wants to get ahead of the game. He wants to look like he knows what's going on inside this company. He wants to please Alex Best, to show Alex Best that he isn't a waste. He finds a crowbar in a maintenance closet down the hallway, returns, and pries open the box.
As the nails securing the top of the crate pull loose, Ben sweeps packing peanuts away to find a nondescript server tower inside. Emblazoned on one side is the word DIOGENES.
A secret project, huh? Probably a continuation of Sand Reckoner. Alex clearly trusted this special piece of equipment to the Diablo Grande facility because he knew that it would be in capable hands with Ben.
Ben smiles to himself. But this isn't enough. He wants to know what's stored on this server. Sure, it's not ready to go online yet. But he can at least hook it up to an isolated network, in a secured environment, and take a peek inside. What's the harm? He's going to show Alex Best that he's no waste.
---
Rose is pinned down behind the tall back of a VIP booth, gripping her shotgun tightly, and breathing ragged. It's fortunate you notice her there, to your left, because she grabs your ankles as soon as you step through the beaded curtain, and drags you down. If you hadn't realized it was her, you could have easily shot her.
There are corpses littering the ground, and the small room reeks of gore.
"What the fuck!" Rose hisses. "Why are you still here?"
"Why are YOU still here? Let's go! Do you have a death wish or something? It's not worth chasing after Stasi--"
"You're an idiot! You let Rose bug your phone, didn't you?"
"Will you stop talking about yourself in the third person already? Jesus Christ."
"Not me. You fucking moron. The other Rose. Fake-Rose."
You peek around the corner of the booth, just barely -- and glimpse Stasi Lebedev tucked behind another VIP booth on the opposite side of the room catty-corner from you. She's huddled up, with a gun in her hand, pointing its muzzle at a bubblegum pink tuft of hair. You don't have long to assess that scene before one of her mooks, cowering beside her, fires blindly around the corner, and forces you back.
It's a standoff -- there is no exit on their side, so they're trapped -- but they have a hostage. Rose2.
"Let me go!" Comes her distinctively shrill voice now. "You'll be sorry you messed with me! I have ESP! I -- oof--"
There's a loud thwack, of flesh against flesh; Stasi slapping Rose2 quiet.
"She followed me here?" You breathe.
"As she likes to say: a-durr."
"So there's one more thing you have in common besides a name. You can't fucking stay away from danger, can you?"
"If it weren't for me, you'd be dead right now! You should thank your lucky fucking st--" Rose's incipient tirade is interrupted by a hail of gunfire that she returns, falling to her belly and spraying buckshot at the opposite wall, forcing the would-be assassin to retreat. You can't help yelping in surprise and fear at the sudden miniature firefight.
As Rose pulls herself back to a sitting position again, you glance towards the room's center. Among the bodies is that of Tyrus Kang -- but the shallow rise and fall of his chest shows that although he's wounded, and unconscious, he's very much alive. For now.
"How many are there?" You ask.
"It doesn't matter. I'll take care of Stasi and her men. Go back to Gal's with your sister and wait for me!"
"Fuck that. You expect me to up and abandon you? I'm not leaving. So let's you and me come up with a strategy here--"
"Asshole. Idiot! You're just going to get in my way."
"Don't you start nagging at me now. I won't go."
"God fucking damn it," she growls. "Why can't you just listen to me for once in your worthless life?"
"Because--" you begin. You swallow hard. How can you make her understand?
"Out with it!"
There's no helping it. You have to tell the truth. "It's because -- I'm in love w--"
"God, you're pathetic."
You furrow your brow. "W-what?"
"You're such a weak-willed fucking loser. I hate you."
"Rose, this isn't the time. You don't mean that." You try to pull her close, but she swats you away.
Her voice drips real hatred off every syllable: "Just looking at you makes me sick. What does it take to get that across to you? How many times do I have to say it? Are you that delusional? You think I care about you? You creepy, orbiting weirdo. Alt-right piece of shit. Disgusting trash."
"For god's sake--"
"Awww. Is the baby gonna cry? You make me puke. You're an ugly, unlovable, noodle-armed beta male. You think you're some biiig, scaaaary dom but you can barely lift a jug of milk over your head. You need a girl's help just to hold someone down. It's pathetic."
You shake your head, feel your nostrils flare and your face twitch. Rose keeps going:
"All you've ever been good for is bossing around. Just like the spineless wimp you are. Fucking with your head. But you're too stupid to understand that you never meant anything to me. How obvious do I have to make it? You think all that abuse somehow means I care about you?... god. Now you're all clingy and lovestruck."
She laughs cruelly at you: "It'd be funny if it wasn't so fucked up and sad. Well I'm bored of playing with you now. I think I should go find a real man. One who isn't such a sniveling little girl. Just about any guy on earth would be better than you. Maybe I'd actually cum for once in my life if I got a real man's dick in me. Just leave me alone already, you stupid prick."
A maelstrom of conflicting thoughts whirls around your skull. You know Rose can't possibly mean this -- but the way she says it, the force she puts behind it, is heartbreakingly convincing. There must be the shadow of truth hidden in it. Not even Rose is that good of an actress. But then again -- you know her. You know how she thinks. You've been in this situation before, on the other side of it, even though she doesn't, or refuses to remember.
It hurts all the same. That's the awful thing about Rose, in the end: she knows how to hurt you worse than anyone on the planet.
You absorb her words like a sponge soaking up water. You let them pass through you. You close your misty eyes and take a couple deep breaths. Then, steeling yourself, forcing your voice not to tremble, you say: "I won't go."
Rose is appalled. She grimaces with her lips wrapped around her teeth and her tongue poking out in frustration. "You're a like a mangy dog that won't go away."
"Yeah. Sure. You got it. I'm a dog. A clingy beta orbiter. Blah, blah, Rose. Now that you know I won't go away, you have to deal with me."
Stasi's voice rings out: "You are outnumbered! Surrender yourselves or die!"
"Go to hell!" Rose shouts.
"We will kill the girl!" Stasi threatens. "If you do not turn yourselves over on the count of three -- we will shoot her!"
"Kill her and you'll be dead in two seconds flat!" Rose says. Call her a hardline negotiator.
"How many?" you ask Rose again, whispering.
Rose considers her options, and, realizing she is never going to get rid of you, she answers. "I counted three, including Stasi."
"Does Tyrus have any guys left?"
"I don't think so--"
While you're distracted by your strategizing, one of Stasi's men bounds towards you. He barrels into a diving skid, like a baseball player stealing second, and gets a vicious-looking Uzi pointed directly at Rose's face. Rose's eyes go wide. The report of gunfire rings in your ears. The phosphoric after-image of the blast blinds you.
And it all happens so quickly that he's dead before you even know it.
He falls back, supine, the gun rebounding off the tile floor beside him, unused. All that's left is a tinny echo in your eardrums, half drowning out the electronic music from the abandoned club below still vibrating the floor.
You assume that Rose's crack aim is to thank for saving her life just now. You've seen her win quick-draw with Russian mobsters once before. But looking down at the man's body now, the small, clean hole in the center of his forehead, you realize he wasn't killed by a shotgun blast. And that's what Rose holds: a shotgun.
So, then -- it had to be you. You killed him.
You examine the glock in your hand. It's warm. Your fingers still tingle with the force of the recoil. There's no mistaking it. You fired your gun just now. You took that man's life with such little hesitation that you didn't even realize it had happened until it was over.
"Alabaster..." Rose breathes.
You gawk at your gun, then at the corpse you created, then back at Rose.
Rose presses her advantage. She shouts across the room: "You're next if you don't let her go!"
There is a long, tense silence before Stasi finally replies. "The police are sure to arrive soon. None of us wants that. We can all leave this place alive, and free."
"Yeah? How?"
"We will hand the girl over. We will let you leave unscathed if you do not attack us."
Rose casts you an uncertain look.
[ ] Take the deal.
>[x] Now or never. Kill Stasi.
Locking eyes with Rose, you wordlessly reach a common understanding of what has to happen. You nod; she nods. It's a skill honed over the course of many interminable board meetings at Darkbloom Analytics. Maybe Rose2 was wrong about which Rose has ESP.
"Okay," Rose calls out. "Hand her over -- and we'll go."
"Your weapons first."
"No," Rose says. "Fake-Rose first."
"...Who? Oh. The girl... no. You must show that you are not aggressive."
"Stop fucking around. Unless you want to live in an American prison for the rest of your life?"
There's a brief sound of tussle, then girly grunts, and heavy footsteps. Rose2 is being led out by Stasi herself, who holds a gun to her back.
"Come out," Stasi says.
"Where's your other man?" Rose demands.
"For God's love--" Stasi sighs. She turns, and without a thought, she shoots her own man in the head, right where he sits in waiting. "Are you happy?"
You go first, and Rose follows. You keep your guns at the ready as you meet Stasi in the room's center.
"Ally--! I -- I'm so sorry--!"
"I'll deal with you later," you say.
"Your guns now, please," Stasi says.
Rose stands her ground.
"You are not in a negotiating position. I am quick enough to kill all of you before you can pull the trigger once. But let us be civilized, yes?"
You and Rose are simpatico, again. She knows as well as you do that you're the one with the gun for the job. It's going to come down to how good your aim is. Can you hit Stasi in the tiny portion of her head visible from behind Rose2's body? You're no William Tell.
Rose kneels haltingly and sets her shotgun on the ground. Stasi watches, pleased. You begin now to do the same -- but at the last second, you fall to your knees, raise your gun, and fire.
"OWWWW!" Rose2 squeals. A mist of blood explodes from her shoulder.
The bullet passes through her, and hits Stasi too, somewhere by her collarbone. She jerks back. Rose2 falls to the ground, shrieking.
Rose isn't frozen by shock the way you are. She grabs her shotgun again, steadies it, and blasts Stasi in the chest.
Stasi collapses. She gurgles, her lungs aspirating her own blood. But her eyes are aglow with sheer hatred. It's at this moment that Tyrus, crawling forward on his belly like a WWI soldier in a trench, clambers atop her.
"This is for Marquis," he snarls. He puts his glock underneath Stasi's chin, meets her hateful glare with one of his own, and fires. Stasi's head explodes.
You help Rose2 to her feet and pull her back. "Let's go."
"Ally-- Ally--!!"
"Don't look," you say, shielding her face with your own body.
"It hurts so bad! Owww..."
Rose takes the lead, sweeping her shotgun side to side, scanning for threats, as you exit the bloody scene. The last thing you see of it is Tyrus, lying atop the bloody mess that used to be Stasi Lebedev. He pinches his thumb and forefinger together, and pulls a long, thin wire from what used to be Stasi's right eye socket. Could it be?
Stasi had men in waiting in the club below. One of them swings around the corner at the bottom of the stairs, leveling a gun on you, but Rose dispatches him immediately. She's gotten good at killing without remorse.
Rose2 yells incoherently. More or less carrying her, as she bleeds profusely against you, you can't help defend yourselves, and so it's all up to Rose -- to protect you all as you make your way out of the mostly-dark, empty club. You can already hear sirens on the distance.
"This is crazy! Oh my god -- oh my god!!" Rose2 wails.
"Shut the fuck up," Rose says. "Christ..."
It's enough distraction that she almost doesn't see the man crouching behind the bar on the other side of the dancefloor.
Rose blocks your path with an outstretched arm and forces you backwards with her, behind a column, at the last moment. The man rises to his feet and fires. Rose returns fire, but the distance is too much for the buckshot's spread to hit him. Another man, flanking you, approaches from your right -- Rose wheels in a beautiful 90 degree arc and blasts him away, but you know there's going to be more. You need to get the hell out of here.
"Run for it?" You suggest.
"Fuck... we have to," Rose says. "Count of three--"
"I can't run... I can't... it hurts..." Rose2 whines.
"You useless sack of shit!" Rose shrieks. "Get it together. Fucking cunt! Let's go!"
Rose2 cries pathetically.
"I--" you begin, but stop when you hear a horrible wail from the bar, and low animal growls. When you peek around the column, you see a rottweiler on top of the man who was waiting for you behind the bar. The rottweiler is busy chewing on the man's neck.
"Lady! Back!"
Lady obeys, and circles his master's legs, on the lookout for any further threats. His tawny mouth is dripping red with human blood. In the low multicolored lighting here, he looks like a hound from hell.
"Just like old times, huh?" Kay says, approaching. "Killing Russians together -- it's nostalgic."
"How the fuck--" you sputter.
"I know where all the best stories are! It's my job! Hey, hate to bother you, but we've got cops. We gotta go."
She leads you behind the bar, and over the corpse of the man Lady killed, then through a deserted kitchen, and out swinging double doors to a small, dilapidated back parking lot. A chain link fence leads to a storm tunnel.
"Can Hubba Bubba climb?" Kay asks.
"I can't... I totally can't..."
"Up and at 'em, then," Kay says. She squats behind Rose2. Getting the cue, you join her. Together, you haul her up like a sack of potatoes.
"Catch her on the other side," Kay instructs Rose.
"Ow! Ow, ow, ow!" Rose2 cries.
Rose struggles to get over the fence, herself -- she was never athletic. When she finally does, she topples to the gravel abutment with a soft grunt, badly scraping her knees and wrists as she lands doggy style in the rocks. She quickly rises to her feet and holds out her arms. You and Kay heave Rose2 over the top.
Rose tries to catch the poor girl, but the weight is too much and Rose is too weak. They stumble backwards together, then go rolling down the pebbly slope, and land splayed out on the damp concrete ground leading to the storm tunnels.
"Lady! Climb!" Kay shouts, snapping her fingers. Lady bounds and jumps and almost clears the fence. Kicking his hind legs wildly, he gets himself over the top. He runs down to where the Roses lie crumpled in a heap. He sniffs them curiously, and then licks Rose's face, smearing it with human blood.
"FUCK!" Rose yells.
"Ow ow ow ow ow ow--"
You and Kay get over and hurry down, just as the approaching sirens arrive in the club's front parking lot. You and your ragtag group scurry into the shelter of the tunnels and escape.
You use a pocket knife to rip the left sleeve of your shirt and use it as a makeshift bandage for Rose2. The entry and exit wounds are small, and clean, but continue to bleed profusely. She's going pale from the blood loss.
"Fucking wild, huh?" Kay says as you slowly walk through the dark tunnels, southward, looking for a good place to cut back to the surface streets. "Where to now?"
Her eyes gleam with raw excitement. Seeing this, it's at this moment you realize something about Kay Vera. "You don't care about the story," you say.
"What?"
"You're not in this to get a really good story, are you... you never have been. You're a thrill seeker. You enjoy being in dangerous situations. You keep purposely putting yourself in danger -- because you get off on it --"
She rolls her eyes. "Spare me the armchair psychoanalysis, Alabaster."
"Cerise has to be at Gal's right about now," Rose cuts in. "I'm sure that's where she went. Alex and Sable, too."
You nod. "What about Whitney? We've got the fucking Russians after all of us now--"
"She's probably at work -- she should be safe there. Dr. Carte and Vivian, too."
"I have to stop..." Rose2 groans, her breathing labored.
"We're almost there," you tell her, although you're not sure whether that's really true. "Listen -- why did you follow me, huh?"
"I... saw you were going into a strip club... and I thought to myself -- well, that's so silly -- why would he do something like that?..."
You shake your head. Rose is more blunt, though: "you stupid bitch."
"I'm sorry... I'm really sorry..."
How are you going to explain this to Mom? And, oh god, Amber -- this kind of thing is sure to tickle her curiosity in the worst way.
Kay snaps her fingers, halting you, and points to a branching path in the tunnel that leads to daylight, an exit. "This should be good -- I can make sure Pinky gets home safe, if you want to take The Brain back to Gal's with you."
[ ] Ok. (Head to Gal's with Rose.)
>[x] I should be the one to explain this to Mom. (Let Kay and Rose go to Gal's, take Rose2 home.)
You load the woozy Rose2 into the back of the Uber and climb inside with her. Poking your head out the window, you instruct Rose: "Wait for me."
"Of course," she says.
You roll the window up as the car pulls away.
The driver gazes suspiciously at you in the rearview. Kay's peacoat, over-large on Rose2, conceals her bullet wound. It doesn't conceal that you're missing one of your sleeves, though. The driver understands implicitly that he shouldn't ask.
Rose2 rests her head against you. The pain is passing, it seems, at least enough that she isn't crying. But she gazes forlornly up at you.
"You don't love me, do you," she says.
You clear your throat awkwardly.
"You love your cousin after all."
"It's complicated," you tell her.
"There's nothing complicated about it," Rose2 says. After a long pause, she adds: "It's okay. I understand. I'm not smart... I'm not useful... I don't have anything... and I almost got us killed. Why would you love me?"
Tears are streaming down her face.
"But -- I love you so much, Ally -- I really, really do..."
You put your arm around her good shoulder and hug her close.
"Amber said you'd do this to me," she says.
"I didn't mean to make you--"
"It's okay. I don't mind. If I can be close to you, it's all okay."
The car pulls up outside Mom's house. Time to break the news.
---
"Russians! I can't -- the nerve of those people! I knew it!"
"Sure. You knew it..." You mutter.
Amber is busily disinfecting Rose2's wound and applying gauze. She works with the speed and alacrity of a field medic. You decline to ask how on earth she's so good at cleaning bullet wounds. You're not sure whether it's rotten luck or great luck that she's here right now, home from school due to the inferno that destroyed North High last week.
Rose2 hisses in pain at various points, but takes it like a champ.
"Ronald Reagan was a pansy! He should have nuked that country back to the stone age while we had the chance!"
"Always with the nukes, mom, geez," Amber says. "Nuke this, nuke that. There are other geopolitical solutions, you know."
"Ow! Amber -- not so rough--"
"Buck up, buttercup." Amber glances back at you. "The good news is it should heal on its own. No need to get docs involved. Docs see a gunshot wound, they call the pigs -- then it's game over. So we dodged a bullet here... uh, no pun intended."
"That's good," you say. "But you might catch some blowback. You should all come live at Whitney's for a little while -- at least until this all blows over -- we'll have security."
Amber laughs: "Pfft. When I told you to let me live a normal life, I didn't mean for you to move me in with the rest of the Beverly Hillbillies. I'm fine right here, thanks."
Mom purses her lips. "I don't know. If they're willing to kill so brazenly -- if any of those Russians made it out of that club, and they know Rose was there -- we could all be in danger..."
"You blasted 'em all away, right?" Amber says. "Pow pow. Problem solved."
"I don't know. I think? I mean, maybe? But-- oof--"
You get cut off by Mom hugging you tight. "You poor thing! Having to risk life and limb like that --"
"Jesus H. Christ," Amber says. "You'd think he was your son, the way you treat him sometimes..."
Mom lets you go with an awkward glance away to the side.
"You can all go live lifestyles of the rich and famous, if you want. But I'm not about that. Those Russian bitches can come find me if they want to die like their buddies did."
[ ] Force the matter.
[ ] Let them stay at the Catachresis house. (But give them security detail too, of course.)
"What do you think?" You ask Mom.
Mom frowns. "I know my daughter. If she doesn't want to go somewhere -- there's no forcing it."
You know Amber perfectly well too, and that's the truth. So, then:
>[X] Let them stay at the Catachresis house. (But give them security detail too, of course.)
"I'll get you guys some security," you tell Mom. "So your life isn't disrupted too badly-- you and Amber can stay here for now."
Rose2 sniffles. "If they want anyone, they want me, right? As long as I'm at Whitney's, you guys should be safe."
Amber arches her eyebrow. "You wanna move into the fuckhouse? Wow. You're one horny broad, sis."
"Amber!" Mom shouts.
"Just saying."
"I'd stay out of your way..." Rose2 insists. "Really."
Rose2 has an apartment in Palo Alto that she resides in during the work week. Keeping her there is almost out of the question -- you can't trust her alone. She'd be easier to keep an eye on at Whitney's place. But at Mom's, with security, the situation might be less difficult.
>[x] Let Rose2 move in with you.
[ ] Keep her here as well.
Rose2, still wincing in pain, climbs into the back of Mom's SUV. Mom is going to chaperone her to Whitney's place. As you approach the car to join her, Amber pulls you aside.
"Break my sister's heart, and I break your spine."
"Since when do you care so much about Rose2?"
"You're a real dumb asshole, you know that? Anyway, she's Rose1. Rose2 is that fat SJW whore you call a cousin -- I'm sorry. First cousin once removed."
"She's had a rough time. I'll try to be gentle with her -- but she's got this puppy love, you know?"
"Uh huh. I'm telling you, Alabaster. Broken heart, broken spine. Fucking bet."
You frown. "Got it."
She puts on a chipper expression. "Great! Then have a pleasant day."
At home, you lug the duffel bag with Rose2's personal effects inside, and drop them with a soft plop on the floor in the foyer. Rose2 wanders around, in awe at the opulence of her temporary new home. It's enough to make her forget the wound in her shoulder.
"We can set you up in a guest bedroom," you tell her.
"Holy crud. This place is even bigger than I thought. So sugoi. The last time I was here it didn't seem so big!"
"That's because there were a bunch of people here -- never mind. For the time being, until I can get the security detail here, you'll be safest at work. I'll drive you back."
Rose2 turns around. She saunters up and gives you a coquettish smile. "Ally... everything we said earlier... I know how it is... but you still think I'm cute -- don't you?"
You frown.
"Will you show me my bedroom?" She asks.
[ ] Show her the bedroom.
>[X] Best not to send mixed signals. Take her back to work, and return to Gal's.
"There's plenty of time for the grand tour. But later. Let's get you safe, yeah?"
Rose2 pouts. "Yeah. Safety first, huh."
She glances around, and spies an arcade cabinet in the living room. "Whoa -- Metal Slug? Can we play later?"
You almost wish you had a head as empty as Rose2's.
---
The rest of them are back at Galatea's as expected. Gal herself is cowering in one corner, hugging her legs, staring at her feet. She doesn't like visitors, and she especially doesn't like these visitors. When you enter the loft, Sable is in the midst of a full-on freakout:
"It's over!" She shrieks. "It's all over!"
"What's over?" You demand, stepping up to where she sits on Gal's bed.
"Humanity! We were at the cusp of greatness but we gave it all up! Sand Reckoner... Diogenes... virus and antibody -- the mind phage --" You recoil in confusion and cast a bewildered glance to Cerise, who's equally lost and unsettled, ditto Rose. "--useless useless useless USELESS -- we cast our lot in with the bringers of the plague!! The only POSSIBLE hope is -- IF the lighthouse --"
Alex, totally calm and placid, approaches Sable now. He kneels down in front of her as she rants and clutches her face.
"Ms. Guiteau," he says, "I'm very sorry."
This interrupts her incoherent rambling just long enough for her to make eye contact with Alex, before he reels back and slaps her hard across the face. The sound of it echoes through the loft.
"You!!" She shrieks, even shriller than before, "YOU LITTLE CUNT!! YOU FAGGOT, COCK SUCKING--"
Alex slaps her again. She bows her head, slumping forward, and goes silent for several long moments. Then she starts to cry pitifully. Gasping, heaving, ugly sobs.
Alex slaps her a third time. Again she goes quiet and still. Then: "death death death death death" she mutters over and over, like a zombie.
Cerise and Rose are absolutely horrified. So are you. Alex, abashed, glances back: "I know how this must look. But she's like a fritzy router sometimes. You gotta smack it back into working order..."
He tries again. And this time, it actually works. Sable, face red and streaked with tears, blinks dazedly, but then finally seems to compose herself. Her muscles loosen and she sighs -- so does Alex.
"Thank you," she tells him.
This woman was never the paragon of mental health, but the past year or so of living underground hasn't done her any favors. She must be totally unmedicated.
You sit, feeling your heartbeat return to normal. "Where has she been all this time?" You ask.
Rose explains the conversation that took place in your absence. "She's been hiding. From everyone. And -- in her words -- building an army."
You breathe hard through your nose, half-laughing -- "an army?"
Rose nods at Gal's monitor. You wheel around in the chair and look at it. Displayed in a browser window is a Soundcloud podcast: Sofia Sant-Elizabeth's Illuminati Report. Helpfully, now, Kay leans over your shoulder and clicks play.
"You're all being hoodwinked!" That's Sable, all right, voice tremulous but somehow silken, and perpetually on edge. "Big Data has you in their clutches. Everything you do and say, is logged, and monitored, and dissected for dissent! And the dissenters are murdered! All you Facebook-using, meme-liking, upvoting lackeys -- you can't see the truth. The real, unbelievable truth right in front of you--"
You click the stop button.
"Well she's probably right about all that," you admit. You turn to her: "Can you tell us now, with words, what the problem is?"
"Darkbloom Analytics must be destroyed," Sable says.
"Ms. Guiteau--" Alex begins.
"What?" Cerise snaps. "What on earth is that supposed to-- why?"
"There is so much about this world you don't understand. David Darkbloom didn't understand -- not even I fully understand -- and I'm one of the most intelligent people in human history--"
Yep. Same old Sable, all right.
"If we don't act now, we'll lose everything. You understand? World-changing technology like this cannot be kept under the bell jar. Someone is going to get their hands on it. Better that it's the people than whoever is about to kill us all and take it for themselves."
"Stasi is dead," you say. "We can fend off whoever else comes to fill that vacuum. And we can get rid of Mara, too, eventually -- once our investors get comfortable enough with the idea of Whitney actually running things. It won't be long. She's losing her grip on power."
"No, she isn't. She will never go quietly. Don't you see? Her venality, and lust for power for its own sake, and petty-minded, short-sighted... smallness... she will ruin us all! This whole world! We've got a choice, of what kind of future we have... hers is the future of a cartel, or -- warring cartels -- fighting over the keys to this technology. If not Mara, then someone else. The Russians. The Chinese. The CIA! And all the rest of us, the common people, in their thrall. That's... that's a dystopia! I didn't set out to make a cyberpunk dystopia, Alabaster. I'm here to bring us utopia!" She looks frantically from face to face. "Utopia! A new era for humankind! Age of Aquarius! Come on!"
"Christ," you mutter.
She calms herself. "We're at an inflection point, as a species. And it came as a result of our collective actions." She touches her chest: "I had a hand in it--" she begins to point, now: "you had a hand in it. And Alex. And your sister, and David Darkbloom, and, and-- Rose..." she gives Rose a confused look. "I'm not sure what it is you do, exactly, Rose."
"Good," she says.
"Well anyway, even Rose. We all took part. So we all own it: which way the inflection point turns." She uses her index finger to trace invisible paths through the air: "does it all turn down... or... back up? You took calculus, right, Alabaster?"
"I got a C... minus."
"That's fine. Close enough. C's get degrees, yes? You understand the metaphor."
"He doesn't," Rose says.
"Yes I fucking do, Rose--" you turn to Sable. "I understand the metaphor."
"He doesn't."
"I will spank you, Rose. I will pull down your skirt and spank you right fucking now."
"We're through the looking glass," Sable tells you. "Something about this world changed on the night of June 1st. You know it. You see it, too. It's in your eyes. Plain as day. You see the dark silhouette of truth behind this distorted reality, don't you? It must be your implant... but you don't see it fully -- you can't -- you can't even let yourself--"
"Do you need to slap her again?" Kay asks Alex.
"Let's let her finish," he says.
Kay shrugs.
Sable looks at her. "You were in the service, yes, Ms. Vera?"
"Sure."
"Then have you heard of Albert Stubblebine?"
"Oh hell yeah," Kay says. "The guy who thought he could walk through walls?"
"Tell them."
Kay explains: "He was this army guy who got into psyops shit back in the 70s and 80s. He had all sorts of cockamamie schemes... turning soldiers invisible, ESP, you name it. Back then, you could get easy funding for anything, as long as you said it could stop communism."
You've had about enough of crackpots who think they've got ESP.
"Well, he legitimately believed he could walk through walls. People would go to see him in his office and he'd be butting his nose up against the wall, trying to pass through it. And no one in the chain of command ever thought to say, hey, perhaps this guy is a little bit nuts. You know? A little bit cuckoo. The military is run by undiagnosed schizophrenics... all the way up to the top. It's quite a sad state of affairs."
"He was right," Sable says.
Kay motions at Sable with her palm. "Case in point. This was Major General Stubblebine's kindred spirit."
"The space between atoms is more than 99% empty," Sable says. "More than 99.9% empty, even. It's 99 and twelve 9's percent empty... then a 6. Stubblebine reasoned that if you could line up all those empty spaces, just so -- you could phase through solid matter. But of course, that's a naive understanding of physics. The law of averages means that in bulk matter, you could never line things up that perfectly. And in any case, intramolecular forces are far too powerful to allow the nuclei of atoms to intermesh like that. So actually, of course, the whole theory was impossible."
"but it wasn't..."
Gal, for the first time, speaks up.
"That's right," Sable tells her, looking at her as if noticing her for the first time. "That's exactly right. It's not impossible after all."
"Don't encourage her," you tell Gal.
"no... no, you know it too. when we linked our implants together... and we saw so much... you felt it, didn't you?"
You shake your head. "I don't know what I felt--"
"like you could change something... like you could change something if you just had the strength to do it..."
"Knowledge is power," Sable says. "Saturday morning cartoons were right all along. What if the power of Sand Reckoner is more than knowing? What if by knowing, you can act? What if you can act upon -- reality itself?"
---
You're alone with Alex on the landing outside Gal's loft. This veranda-covered walkway has a beautiful view out to the bay. You and he lean against the railing, admiring the ocean, side by side.
"How long have you been in contact with her?"
"Huh? Ally... I don't know what you're--"
"Don't bullshit me, Alex. I'm not in the mood. You and Sable are a regular Watson and Holmes. You've been keeping in touch. How long."
He dithers. Then finally: "a little over a month," he admits, shamefaced.
"What kind of plan did you come up with, then?"
"She wants to destroy the company. She's not joking. And... and to be honest, I kind of agree with her."
"You've been plotting against me, behind my back."
"It's not like that, Ally--"
"Yes it fucking is." You wheel on him. He looks suddenly frightened as your shadow falls over him. "If this company goes down, if those servers go down -- I die. Gal dies. Vivian. Cerise. I won't let you kill my sister, you piece of shit."
Alex, rather than falling to his knees and begging forgiveness, instead steels himself, cocks his head up at you, and laughs bitterly. "Talk about tables turning, huh? A year ago it was me and Sable calling you the saboteur..."
"I ought to turn you both over to Noelle. You fucking traitor."
"You should be thanking me," Alex says. "Nothing is going to happen except when I say so. I talked Sable out of her first idea. She just wanted to blow it all up. That's such a very Alabaster move -- don't you think?"
You glower at him.
He continues. "I said I would help her, only if we can get this mess with the implants sorted out. That's what Diogenes is. If Sand Reckoner is a mind-virus, Diogenes is the antibody. Together, they relieve your brain of needing any connection to any servers -- you can interface with the minds of other Sand Reckoner users, directly..."
"So..." you drawl.
"So we fix your head, and get rid of this awful company, and maybe we save the world in the process, too. Whitney's got money anyway, it's not like you need to run Darkbloom Analytics to make a living. Wouldn't the world be better off? Isn't that what you want? You've been stuck with this company, but you'd be so much happier without it... we all would."
You think about that. Would you be?
>[x] I'll help you.
[ ] I won't let you destroy this company.
"For the sake of sticking it to David and Mara Darkbloom, if for nothing else," you say.
Alex has no idea how to respond to that.
"What happens after you perfect Diogenes, then?"
"We disseminate instructions on how to produce the new generation of implant -- it'll be a model simple enough to be compatible with a 3D printer. The codebase will be totally open source. No putting the cat back in the bag after that... Sand Reckoner and Diogenes will belong to the public. Anyone who wants the implant will be able to get one. And no one will control it."
Sounds suspiciously like communism, but okay. At least Amber will be happy.
"Where is Sable staying?" You ask.
"Nowhere. I told her to come live in my apartment with me -- but she won't. She just kind of... putters around in her van. Moves from place to place at random to avoid detection. I guess she's always been sort of a nomad at heart."
"Nomad. That's a romantic way of saying hobo. She's a hobo who lives in her van."
"Erm..."
"Why didn't you come to me right away?"
Alex can't meet your eyes. "I don't know, Ally. I knew you wouldn't -- or, that is to say, that you'd think -- oh, never mind. Why do I always need to explain myself? You never explain yourself to me." Now he forces himself to establish eye contact, and he's upset, and his voice quakes: "I made a choice, just like you did, to hide something. We all have secrets, Alabaster... if you can't trust that I've been keeping you in my heart..." he trails off, sighing. "Sable was right about you, after all. You still don't understand anything about what people mean to you."
"Sable..." you mutter.
"Hmm?"
"You keep calling her Sable... not Ms. Guiteau. I'm just surprised."
Alex spins and leans against the railing with both elbows. "I guess I didn't notice. Huh..." He leans his head way back and basks in the glimmer of the low-hanging sun. "Maybe she'll be Mrs. Best someday soon..."
So it's like that. You wonder how much the putative Mrs. Best knows about her co-conspirator's true feelings. She's one to talk about not understanding people -- she never did realize how hopeless Alex really is about her.
At home that evening, Rose2 and Whitney struggle their way through Metal Slug 3. Whitney plays as Tarma and Rose2 as Eri. Even with unlimited credits, it's a long slog for the pair.
"Ugh," Rose2 grunts, furiously firing at the boss, "this baka robot is impossible--"
"Watch out--!" Whitney shouts. But too late; poor Eri takes a ballistic missile to the face.
"Aghh! Piece of kuso!"
You have something like peace of mind knowing that there's a security detail with the firepower of a small nation outside your mansion. They're a firm Tyrus recommended to you in the past -- and if there's one thing you're sure of, it's that Tyrus Kang hates the Russians from the bottom of his heart -- so you can trust this firm is legitimate. You've given similar resources to Mom, as well as Alex, and Gal, and Dr. Carte, and even Vivian -- who was none too pleased to hear that Russian mafia had tried to kidnap you.
"If you don't want them threatening me, take it up with your mother," you told her.
To which Vivian replied with nothing but a blank stare. Such a talker, Vivian.
Still, this night feels like the brief period of calm between the opening salvo of the war, and the first real battle.
Cerise is at Gal's, for some much needed gal-pal time, being babysat by Dr. Carte. Which leaves you with not much to do but wait, and be simultaneously anxious and bored.
"Alabaster."
Great. Just what you need right now. Rose.
"Can we talk somewhere private?" She asks.
"I don't know. Are you going to hit me? I can't take much more of this abuse... I'm such a wimp, you know."
Rose isn't pleased by the clown act.
"Fine," you say. "Lead the way, mistress."
You don't like the way that makes her smile despite the sarcasm you layered onto it.
Inside Rose's bedroom, you sit on her bed and shrug. "All right. What's so important that we needed to have a private pow-wow? I'm a busy man, you kn--"
Rose climbs into your lap, swinging her thick legs over you so that she's straddling you, and clutches your face with both hands. She opens her mouth wide and kisses you forcefully, wetly. It's really more like she's sucking on you, to be honest -- you weren't prepared for this. It's a kiss brimming with uncharacteristic passion and need.
"I didn't mean it," she moans against you. Her voice is soft and tinged with that rarest of her emotions: remorse.
"W-what?" You try to push her back a little, to get some breathing room so you can talk it out, but she just dives in for another assault, kissing you, and running her hands all across your chest. Her weight presses down on you and you feel powerless to resist.
"I didn't mean any of it, okay? Don't gloat -- and don't make make me say it again -- this is all you're getting, Alabaster..."
But you have to gloat at least a little. It wouldn't be fun, otherwise. "I know you didn't mean that shit," you tell her. "You're a shitty actress."
You kiss her back.
"Fuck you," she growls. She wraps her hand around the back of your head and twirls her tongue inside your mouth. She tastes so sweet and warm. Her breaths are tiny and hot against you. She's already pawing at the buttons on your shirt.
"Well fuck you, too, then," you tell her between kisses.
"Fuck me yourself."
You reach for her blouse.
There's a knock on the door.
Rose2 -- of course. "Ally! You guys in there? I was hoping you'd give me that grand tour of the house you promised~"
Rose gives you a severe look. "Just ignore her," she tells you.
[ ] Ignore her.
>[x] Make love, not war.
"I think you and the other Rose need to learn how to get along better," you tell her.
"Oh, fuck you, Alabaster," Rose says. "But -- for real, this time. You deranged ape."
You pull her into another kiss that she's powerless to resist.
"I shot the poor girl in her shoulder. I bet her rotator cuff is never going to be the same. The least I can do is show a little contrition -- right?"
Rose is hurt. "But... I risked my life-- what about me? I want you. I... god, don't make me say it... I NEED you..."
She pounds a fist against your chest, but weakly, more to emphasize the point.
"I know," you tell her. "But... think of it like this..." you lean in and whisper, breathing directly into her ear, making her shiver: "you can show her that you're better..."
Knock-knock. "Ally? I hear your voice in there, silly! You can't hide from me~... haha. That's a joke. Open up!"
"Am I..." Rose begins, gulping. She pulls back a little to regard you. "...You think I'm better?"
"Don't flatter yourself. It's a low bar to clear."
She pounds your chest again. You reach down and get your hand up her skirt, and feel the soft cleft of her naked cunt. Always naked, and always wet for you. Her body is honest even if she is not. "Show that girl what this pussy can do..." you tell her, and tickle her clit. She shudders.
Rose hauls herself up now, raising one leg like a bitch to climb off you -- not ladylike at all. She's all hot and bothered and worse, her competitive streak is flaring up.
You walk over and answer the door. Rose2's pink hair is ruffled by the breeze it creates. Her face is still somewhat more pale than usual from everything that happened earlier.
"Ally! Why the heck were you hiding from me--"
She notices now, peeking around you, that Rose is here, and more: she's sitting on her bed with her legs spread wide and her skirt hiked up and her bare cunt on full display. Rose2's dumb, pretty eyes bug out. "Oh my gosh!"
Her face now cycles through a panoply of emotions: anger, sadness, disgust, and chiefly, confusion. "I... I didn't..."
She tries to turn and go, but you stop her, holding her in place by the wrist.
"You interrupted us on purpose, didn't you? What were you expecting? Why else would I be in her room? Use your head."
Rose2 glances back, and sees Rose idly playing with herself. She has two fingers in her pussy and an evil grin on her face -- she likes seeing you get a bit rough with other girls. Rose2 looks away again, knuckles to her lips, blushing. "I'm sorry... never mind..."
"You can go, if you want," you allow. "But we've got room for a third."
"Th-th-th-third..." Rose2 stammers. "Thr-threesome?!"
"What's with the shy schoolgirl act? That's hardly new to you."
Rose, behind you, is a little miffed. "Wait. You had a threesome with her and some other bitch?"
"Not now, Rose," you tell her without looking back. "Let me work."
"Ugh. I'll deal with you later, then."
You whisper to Rose2 so that only she can hear. "That's the thing you should understand, okay? We can all have fun together... there's nothing wrong with it. Why fight -- why be rivals -- make love, not war, right?"
Rose2's dewy eyes are still swimming with uncertainty, so you seal the deal with physical affection. Notch this as another similarity between the two Roses: their resistance crumbles if you kiss them.
"Your decision, of course," you tell her gently. You swipe some hair from her face. "But you're more than welcome to share our bed tonight... and it'll feel really good."
"O... okay..."
You reel her into the room and close the door.
"Lick my cunt, you bitch," Rose growls. She leans back on one elbow and spreads her sticky pussy lips, awaiting obedience.
Rose2 squeaks in fear.
"Will you cut the domme shit out?" You tell Rose. "You'll scare her to death."
Rose pouts. You pet Rose2 on the top of the head to soothe her. She clutches your shirt sleeve and circles around you and hides her face against your back, as if to shield herself from her rival.
"We'll be nice," you tell her. "...Won't we?"
"Hmmph," Rose says.
"You like being with girls?" You ask Rose2.
Her face still nestled close to your body, she mumbles: "I... I dunno... I want YOU, Ally..." Her eyes are bright as she looks up at you: "You smell so nice."
"Come here," you tell her. You guide her to Rose's bed, and sit down in front of her. You unzip your jeans and nod -- she gets the message. She reaches a tiny hand into your fly, finds your already erect cock.
"You... you're so big, Ally~"
Despite her trepidation, the heat and firmness of your cock in her hand is enough to keep her going.
"Take it out," you instruct. As she does so, Rose climbs down to the carpet and joins her. From opposite sides of your cock, the two Roses share a momentary, reproachful gaze.
Rose2 actually makes the first move: she smiles at you, so broadly it forces her eyes shut, and says, "can I suck your cock, Ally?"
You grunt a yes in response, and immediately, she gets to work. Her pink lips engulf the mushroom head of your dick. Her impossibly small tongue snakes under the foreskin, flickering against the frenulum. How did she get so good at this? It takes your breath away. The way her mouth suckles on your cock like she needs your cum to live... it's almost enough to make you pop off, right now.
You steal a glance at Rose, to see how she's dealing with this. It's a mixed bag. She loathes to see you with another woman, and especially this one -- but she's a dirty little bitch, too, and being up close and personal to a pretty girl sucking a hard cock is obviously doing things to her. Her eyes simmer. Lust and hate battle within her.
Rose2 sinks lower on your meaty dick, and her slimy tongue tickles the underside of it in such a painfully pleasurable way. Rose rubs your knees to catch your attention and asks you, in a voice that sounds like begging: "She's no good, is she? She doesn't know how to do that at all..."
Rose2 tries to rebut, but with her mouth stuffed full of cockmeat, all she can do is gag. Which feels really fucking good, too. She sputters and drools on you.
"If you think she isn't any good -- help her," you say.
"H-help her--"
"Lick my nuts."
This steals Rose's breath. The domineering way you say it, and the substance of the command itself. She hesitates, so you repeat yourself, even more firmly than the first time: "Lick my fucking nuts."
And to make sure there is no last-second resistance to the prospect of helping her love-rival, you lace your fingers through Rose's hair and tug her face towards your crotch. Her button nose rests against your cum-filled balls, and the stink of your manly cock invades her nostrils. Her eyes roll back -- it's making her stupid. It always does. Of course, after that, she'll have to obey. And she does. Her tongue darts out, at first reluctant, but slowly growing more eager, as she swabs it around and pleasures you. Even if she has to work with someone she hates, she can't help how much she loves to lick and suckle your balls. The two Roses are working in tandem now, one nursing on your dick, the other servicing your heavy nuts. You pet them both appreciatively. They can be good girls, after all.
It isn't to last. Rose2 always plays like she's innocent, but she's a terrible instigator. She pulls off your spit-slick dick and says, her voice hoarse: "I'm better than her, right? You like my cocksuck better..."
Rose pulls back from your balls. Strands of spit, hers and her rival's, cling to her. It forms a bridge between her face and your genitals. She's in such an undignified, nasty state; but she's full of pride as she insists to Rose2: "you're horrible. I'm way better at this..." She grabs your dick, curling her soft fingers around it. She nuzzles it like a kitten, and drags her tongue in a long, slow motion all the way up the shaft. You can't suppress the groan it causes. "Right, Alabaster?"
"You--!" Rose2 shouts. She presses one of your thighs, to spread your legs wider and create some space for her. She butts her good shoulder up against Rose and tries to force her back, but Rose won't budge -- she's an immovable object when she's got her lips around your dick. Forced now to compromise, Rose2 cups your slobbery nuts and massages them gently, while she puckers her mouth and starts to kiss your shaft. Two girls share your cock, blowing you, but each has a different strategy. Rose uses her wonderfully skilled, wet tongue to swirl around and hit all the spots she knows you're weak to. Rose2 uses her pouty lips to plant kisses almost at random all over your horny cock and balls. Make no mistake about it, this is a fierce competition, but neither one is prevailing.
As they suck you off, their mouths occasionally meet -- Rose licks Rose2, or Rose2 kisses Rose -- it's a hot fucking sight, especially the way they refuse to stop going, even as their eyes fill with loathing for one another.
You throw your head back and moan. This is too much... you need to feel the snug confines of a cunt around you. So you say so: "I need to fuck someone..."
Rose grins smugly. She strokes your thigh and adopts a seductive tone. "Of course. Her amateur technique just frustrated you. It's okay, Alabaster... I'm here for you... you can cum in my pussy, if you want."
"Nnn-!" Rose2 sighs in frustration around your cock. She looks up at you desperately. "A-Ally-- d-didn't you say that MY pussy was the tightest you ever had?"
"You--" Rose begins.
But Rose2 stammers over her. "And Ally, I'm all -- all wet for you... so please... PLEASE cum inside me, okay?"
These girls are trying to kill you. You just know it.
"Both of you get on the bed."
They obey, climbing up as you step off. They sit there on their knees, fists pressing into the mattress between their legs, peering up at you, awaiting instruction -- like puppies at the pound trying to claim a new owner.
"On your backs."
They obey, again. Their eyes are fixed on your dripping, drooling cock. Rose chews her lip; Rose2 breathes hard and seems halfway scared, even now.
To entice you, Rose hooks a hand under either of her knees, calves in the air, and spreads her legs as wide as they'll go. Her skirt is pulled all the way back, almost as if she's wearing it upside-down. She's on full display to you, totally vulnerable, and willingly so. It's enough to make your heart melt.
Rose2 is not to be outdone. She quickly removes her frilly pink panties. They're stained with her wetness, so much that they actually drip. She says: "I know I make a lot of noise... and I wouldn't want to bother you like that... so..." With that, she balls the panties up, and shoves them in her own mouth, as a gag. Though the wadded-up cotton prevents her from smiling, her glinting eyes tell the story -- she's happy.
"I'm gonna fuck you both," you tell them.
Their reaction is half joy and half despair, as expected.
Eeenie-meenie... you settle on the original Rose, first. You climb atop the bed and replace her hands under her knees with your own. She lets her arms fall back to the mattress, splaying out, savoring a momentary victory. You mount her like the bitch she is, pull her lower half up toward you and slam your cock into her without mercy.
"Unnghh--" Rose gasps when you break her cunt open around you. "Ohhhh... oh, fuuu-uuuck... therrrre you go. See? You wanted my pussy after all..."
You rut, holding her plump ass in the air while you saw your cock in and out of her. Rose is just along for the ride, but she loves it. "That's it... that's it, Alabaster... you can just keep going... just keep going and cum inside me... forget about her..."
Rose2's eyes intently watch the place where you're mating with her most hated opponent. It seems like she wants to stop watching, but she can't force herself to. And it seems like she can't decide whether this is a dream or a nightmare. The thwacking of your crotch against Rose's as you bottom out repeatedly, is the only sound in the room. That, and Rose's theatrical cries of ecstasy.
Unfortunately for Rose, you're a man of your word, and now it's time for the other Rose's turn. You pull out of Rose and drop her like a sack of rocks. She barely registers it before you're already between Rose2's legs.
"Alabaster--" Rose says. "Wait--"
Too late. Rose2's face beams with adoration as you lie atop her and plunge yourself into her tight pink pussy. She loops an arm around your neck to pull you in. At such a close distance, you can smell her sodden panties in her mouth, that weirdly sweet and feminine scent unique to her. Her hips wag, and help your wet cock find purchase in her vicelike insides. It's enough to make you want to cum.
"You-- you don't want her," Rose insists, mostly to convince herself, it seems. "You want me! Not this dirty, used-up, dumb fucking cunt--"
Rose2 is a little bit of an M, you've learned, and this abuse, despite the source, makes her shiver. You pound her extra hard now, to reinforce the association of pleasure with verbal degradation in her brain. She's easy enough to train. Her pretty little cunthole juices around you.
"She's just some dumb slut... you want ME--"
"Will you shut up already?" You snarl. "Don't make me gag you, too."
That association of pleasure and humiliation is already strong in Rose's mind; she takes a ragged breath and tries to calm herself, but no avail. She's way too hot for you to do anything that might make you refuse her. A bit more obsequious, she holds her legs apart for you, and sweetly pleads: "don't make me wait..."
If she wants it that bad, then fine. You switch girls again, and mount Rose, and fuck her raw. Her pussy might not be as tight, but it's probably softer -- nice and wet, hot and squelchy, like a living onahole. It's hard to say which feels better. The lewd sounds of fucking Rose's fleshy cunt are definitely a point in favor, though. You can't get enough of those nasty, wet noises.
When Rose2 begins to whine, even through her gag, you switch again -- back and forth you go, fucking them both in equal measure. It's a delirious, debauched experience.
"But -- but you'll cum inside me, right?" Rose begs.
Rose2 sucks her panties like a pacifier and wordlessly pleads with you to choose her instead.
With your cock planted as deep as it can go inside Rose2's bubblegum pussy, you grab Rose's wrist, and pull it to the side, and force her to link hands with the girl she hates so much. "Will you fucking sluts just get along already?" You say. "Jesus... I'll cum inside both of you too, if that's what it takes..."
You surrender yourself to the pleasure, staring down at these two girls who are physically so similar, but who could not be more different otherwise. With their palms clasped together, you direct their faces now, turning them to the side, and forcing them to peer into one another's eyes. Make love, not war, indeed: "Kiss," you command them.
They shake their heads emphatically no, and Rose says: "you have got to be kidding--"
"If you want my cum inside you -- kiss."
Rose reaches up, begrudgingly, and removes Rose2's makeshift gag. Mutely, they consider their situation -- the impulse to spite each other, and the much stronger impulse warring with the first, their primal need to get spermed.
You press their faces together to decide the contest for them. They need no more prodding. They kiss, their tongues battling for dominance as they link both of hands together.
That sight, of these two beautiful, healthy girls making out despite their mutual hatred, sets you off. You feel the jizz surging through your nuts, up your shaft, and you can't hold back any longer.
The first two spurts go deep inside Rose2, right into her womb. The bed squeaks beneath as you rut and breed her out. Rose2's eyelids flutter and she inhales deeply around Rose's tongue as she feels those warm, gooey blasts inside her.
It's such an awesomely pleasurable sensation that your reptile brain almost forces you to stay seated inside, and waste your entire load in her twat. But you have to be kind. Against millions of years of evolutionary instinct, you pull out. Your spurting cock can't be stopped; one, two blasts of hot cum spray the kissing girls, landing on their skirts and blouses, staining them. You see stars and feel about ready to pass out, but you quickly find Rose's steamy pussy, and get yourself shoved up it. You groan in agonized delight. You've fucked so much at this point, that NOT blowing your cum where it belongs -- inside some lucky girl's orifices -- is horribly frustrating. The final two sticky, searing squirts of your seed land in Rose's fertile pussy. You hose her down and secretly hope she gets pregnant. You want to knock Rose up.
That thought alone coaxes out another couple, smaller blasts that you didn't know were in there. Rose's over-full cunt leaks your pearly jism from around the seal it forms with your cock.
As you pull back with a satisfied heave, totally empty, you note with approval that the girls are still kissing, of their own volition. Their legs are spread wide and their leaking pussies stain the mattress. They revel in the sensation of being full of your hot cum, and this has defeated their animosity, for now, as they share in that joy, and make out lovingly.
You and the two Roses sleep together that night. They take up position on either side of you, curled around you, hugging you. It's simultaneously oppressive and enjoyable.
You hope against hope that you'll have more peaceful nights like this one.
---
At work the following morning, you and the Roses, and Whitney, blearily step past the FBI security cordon. But this time, something different. The blue-jacketed mook checking you in asks you to step into the mobile field office's interior.
"Why?" You demand, heart quickening. "I want my lawyer present."
"They won't be able to stop this," the man, whose name badge identifies him as Hugh, tells you. "You've heard about the incident at the Sapphire Club, I assume?"
You say nothing.
"Well, your CPO is in trouble. And we have probable cause to think you might know something. We're going to administer a test for gunshot residue."
"Gunshot--" you stammer.
"This way, please."
You turn. "Let's go," you tell the girls, "We don't need to deal with this. We have rights."
But Hugh grabs you roughly. "If you try to leave, you'll catch a charge for resisting arrest. This way -- please."
---
An agent swabs your hand with a waxy strip of paper adhered to a futuristic looking black plastic backing. On either side of you in uncomfortable plastic chairs sit the Roses; and two seats down is Whitney. All three girls have the same sunken, demoralized expression you wear, too. Down the line the agent goes, swabbing your hands. Noelle watches, arms folded.
"You can still help yourselves," she says. "We can begin with this. Where is Tyrus Kang?"
You try not to betray surprise at the question. You say nothing.
"I don't--" Rose2 begins, but Rose hisses at her: "shut up. Say nothing. Say absolutely nothing, do you understand? You have constitutional rights -- and your attorney will answer for you..."
"Tyrus's club got shot up by the Russians last night," Noelle says. "We already know you were there, so cut the shit."
Rose2 stares at her feet and fiddles with the hem of her skirt, but she keeps quiet -- good.
"Have it your way," Noelle says.
A tech sticks the samples in a machine that is designed to analyze them, one by one. You wait grimly for the result you already know is going to come.
"These two," the tech says, pointing at you and Rose.
"Figures the kissing cousins were hot and heavy in all that action," Noelle murmurs.
Against her own advice, Rose says: "There's nothing illegal about firing a gun. This is still America, last I checked."
"You're going to have to come with me," Noelle says.
"Am I being detained?"
"Fucking hell. Yes. You're both being detained."
Whitney rolls her eyes. "Oh boy, here we go." She looks at you. "I'll let Saul and Charlotte know. They'll be thrilled..."
---
"I tried to help you."
Noelle stands across from where you sit at the interrogation table. You've really grown to hate FBI interrogation rooms. You've also grown to hate how familiar you are with them.
She clacks her fingernails against the chrome tabletop. "This is your last chance, now. Stasi Lebedev is dead. Heads are going to roll, Alabaster. Do you actually understand -- it's now or never. The last lifeboat is leaving the Titanic... you have to decide whether you're getting aboard or not."
"You suck at metaphors," you tell her.
"You stupid, obstinate monkey of a person... goddamn you, Alabaster. How much farther can I stick my neck out for you? Help me help you!"
You sip your water and say nothing.
"We have enough to charge you. We can prove you were there."
"If you could prove it," comes Charlotte's voice as an agent opens the door for her, "you would have charged him already."
Finally. It took her more than three hours to get here.
Noelle doesn't break eye contact. "Alabaster, for fuck's sake. Don't turn this chance away! Your life -- the lives of everyone you care about -- are at stake! This isn't a fucking GAME!"
"You have nothing," Charlotte sneers. "You awful woman. Trying to bully my client into waiving his rights -- again. You should honestly lose your badge."
"Alabaster..." Noelle says. "Please. Please."
Another agent is trying to lead her away, hand on her shoulder. She desperately holds eye contact with you. But the way the agent booms: "Keki. Let's go." -- leaves no mistake. She's being shooed by a superior.
Noelle steps out of the interrogation room, reluctantly. This other agent uncuffs you now, and gruffly says: "You're free to go, sir."
Sir. Wow. The VIP treatment. You wonder what the occasion is.
When you and Charlotte leave down the long white hallway, joined now by Rose, you catch a glimpse of Noelle getting a dressing-down from her boss. She watches you miserably as you depart.
"You should be all right for now," Charlotte tells you as she drives you both back to work. "The FBI might let up on us, after all. The entire investigation, I mean -- everything."
"How come?" You ask.
She hates to admit this, clearly, but she does: "Saul went all out, hail Mary... when he heard you two were arrested, he filed an emergency brief in appellate court alleging that the military's interest in using Sand Reckoner would violate third amendment protections... lo and behold... you're both free to go."
You laugh.
"Don't get too confident," Charlotte warns you. "The FBI and the military don't always see eye to eye. A woman like that horrible, skanky Noelle Keki... isn't going to let up... so, then... tell me truthfully, both of you, exactly what happened last night. Because if there's any evidence, any evidence at all -- she will probably find it..."
You and Rose take turns coming clean. Charlotte listens, growing paler and paler, utterly aghast. She had some idea, of course, that you two had been involved in dirty business before. But hearing directly that you helped slaughter Russian mobsters does a number on her. She looks ready to faint by the time you're through.
"Well then," she says, clearing her throat and trying to process her new reality. "Well... well. I guess we're going to have to take drastic measures."
It's one thing after another today. At work, in the lobby of Darkbloom Analytics, Dr. Carte meets you and Rose.
She's blunt and to the point: "Cerise is missing."
Your gut does somersaults.
"She went to the bathroom this morning... " Dr. Carte says. "She was taking a long time... so I went to check on her. The window was open... she was gone. She ran away."
You quake with anger. "She didn't run away. Goddamn it-- this cannot be happening... not now, not now..."
"I'm so sorry, Alabaster," Dr. Carte says. She lays a hand on yours; you swat it back. But you're a hypocrite, after all. You've let Cerise have bathroom breaks unaccompanied, too. She deserves that dignity, at least.
Still... still...
"We'll find her," Dr. Carte says.
"Go away. Fuck you. Useless..."
You push past her. Rose casts her an apologetic glance over her shoulder, but follows you to the elevators.
---
Rose paces around the office, back and forth, and then in circles.
"Would you cut that out?" You say. "It's making me anxious by proxy."
She ignores you. "I just called up to her office. Vivian didn't show to work this morning."
"I can only process one missing person case at a time," you tell her.
"This... this whole thing..." Rose says. "It's Vivian. Vivian did this."
"How the hell could Vivian have engineered this? She wasn't even there."
Rose shakes her head. "When was the last time we saw Darkbloom? When was the last time he came out?"
"I don't know. A few days ago, I guess. I saw him in the morning when Cerise woke up. Which is an awful way to wake up. You think you're spooning a cute girl, and it's actually a man--"
"Oh, and spooning a man, that's unusual for you--"
"Go screw y--" You stop, massage the bridge of your nose. "Anyway, he was gone again not long after that."
"Did he ever leave your sight during that time frame?"
"I... I mean, I let him use the bathroom."
Rose gives you a stern look. She doesn't need to tell you what she's thinking, after the way you berated Dr. Carte.
"He was locked in there -- and that bathroom has no windows to the outside. So it's not like he could have done anything tricky."
"I thought you were following him literally everywhere."
"Excuse the hell out of me if I got tired of watching my sister take her morning shit. What does this have to do with anything, anyway? And how is Vivian of all people responsible?"
Rose quits pacing and puts a forefinger to her lips. She ponders for a long while. Then: "We stopped seeing him as often right after the night he spoke with Vivian. He basically disappeared after that."
"So what? Vivian kicked his shit in, verbally. It ruined the poor guy. Even I felt bad for him. Which is saying something. Maybe the psychological trauma is keeping him sequestered away. What else is the explanation here?"
"Vermont Coma Genetics."
"What?"
"He passed a list of shell companies to Whitney, and she passed them to Vivian. I got a copy of that list... and decided to check on those companies..."
"I don't know whether to call you genius or deranged."
"I've told you a million times, Alabaster. I make it my business to know things. Well, every company on that list was an actual tax haven -- fraudulent LLCs based out of the Canary Islands, Vanuatu, Palau, Nauru, Luxembourg, San Marino, Delaware..."
"...Delaware?"
"I found all of them except Vermont Coma Genetics. I assumed it was simply well hidden, but -- it always bugged me -- like an ingrown hair, but I wasn't sure why..."
You groan. "Thanks for the mental image."
Rose pulls a wheeled whiteboard towards her and uncaps a pen. She writes on the board: VERMONT COMA GENETICS. It always annoyed you how neat her handwriting is, even when writing quickly.
Her eyes scan it for thirty seconds, a minute, two -- you're growing impatient, but you know better than to interrupt.
"VT..." she breathes. "Not Vermont. VT."
She erases the word "VERMONT" and replaces it with "VT." Then she starts drawing lines underneath the letters -- rearranging them:
VT COMA GENETICS
GIVE ME CONTACTS
Bile rises in your throat. You stand and approach the whiteboard. You're shivering.
"Vivian..." you say. The lines are connecting inside your memory, now, too. "After that night with Darkbloom. She all of a sudden got real handsy with everyone for a few days. Kept hugging people."
"Yeah, she was a regular Joe Biden. I remember that."
"Cerise, too -- she hugged Cerise at that quiz bowl in the bar... did she... reverse pickpocket colored contact lenses into Cerise's jeans pocket?" Even as you say it, you want to disbelieve.
"That's it," Rose says. "That's exactly it. It must be."
"No... no, no. Goddamn it. Why? Vivian hates Darkbloom."
"No she doesn't. Darkbloom is her father. After everything -- he's her father. And if your father commands you to do something... no matter how distateful you find it... it's hard to say no..."
How long has Darkbloom been posing as Cerise? Hours, days -- weeks?
"What are we going to do?" You say, growing panicky.
Rose gazes at the ceiling. She's much more composed than you are, contemplative. "Tell our boss, I guess."
---
"Ayep," Whitney says. You and Rose sit across from her in her office. "That's no surprise. You know what my superfans in /wdbg/ always say?"
You feign ignorance.
"Can't zoom the Darkbloom," Whitney tells you. "Guess that goes double for bio dad."
"Do you know what they could be up to?" Rose asks.
"Fuck, no. Maybe they just went out for a father-daughter ice cream cone. We can be optimistic and assume that's it. Best case scenario, right there."
"What did Darkbloom tell you that he didn't want anyone else to know?" You say.
Whitney still seems uncertain about telling you, but finally she comes out with it. "Bio dad had an implant of his own -- called it 'Diagonally' or something."
"We suspected that," you say. "That's no revelation. Is it the one Tyrus got his hands on, then?"
She frowns. "No... it's inside Vivian's head now."
"How does he know that?" Rose asks.
"He got suspicious about how she kept getting migraines around him." Whitney whips the fingers of her flattened hands up and down like the flippers of a pinball machine. "It's some sort of... interference. With his old implant. Kinda sad when you think about it... even if they could get along, she'd be in pain the whole time." She sighs and rests her cheek on the heel of her palm. "But I guess being in pain is just part for the course of being his daughter..."
"Par for the course," you correct.
"Go fuck yourself."
"What were you going to do about that?" You demand. "Just... nothing? Not tell anyone? Does Dr. Carte even know?"
"Nope. I'll tell you what I did about it, Ally. I talked to Vivian. Like a normal human being. You know how humans do that? That thing with the moving of your lips to make sounds that communicate thoughts? That thing?"
You lean back and give her a look that wordlessly communicates just as well as your lips could, "get on with it."
"She flat out refused to admit that it's true. Still... I could tell. She's got that motherfucker's implant in her eyeball. But I knew that until I could get her to come clean... helping her would be impossible."
"So -- you did nothing."
"It's called patience, assface. I swear to god. When I'm more patient that you, you're doing something wrong." She slaps her desk. "This is why I didn't want to tell you! Bio dad was actually right for once in his life. The second you get a new piece of information, you want to go running off like -- what's his name, the windmill guy."
"Don Quixote."
"Yeah, Donkey Hotay."
"I appreciate the strategy," Rose says, "but the fact remains that we've got a serious problem now. Vivian and David Darkbloom are together somewhere, doing god only knows what. This is the worst possible time--"
"We have to find them," you add.
Whitney shakes her head. "Nah."
"What?" You and Rose exclaim at once.
Whitney's voice is calm and level. "I trust my sister. Whatever she's doing is important. She'll come back soon -- and until then, I'm sure it's useless trying to find her."
Rose2 pokes her head in. "Uh... is this a bad time?"
"Yes. Yes it is," Rose says. "Fuck off."
"I have some important papers here from Mr. Mallory, is the thing... they are-- what did he say-- note-ar-ized..."
You sigh and beckon her to deliver them to you. The foul look Rose shoots her, scares her out of the office just as soon as the envelope is in your hand.
"I wish you two would get along better," you say when Rose2 is gone.
"Don't press your luck, asshole."
You open the envelope, unfold the papers and scan them quickly.
"Well?" Rose says.
"...Your dad is disowning me."
"What!" Rose snatches the papers from you. She scans them now herself, to confirm, clutching the sides so hard they crinkle and deform. As she reads, she grows visibly angry.
"Pursuant to California family law... hereby notifying Alabaster Soliloquy, the dependent... severing guardianship and all parental responsibilities, next of kin rights, powers of attorney, tax credits, inheritance -- to be effective immediately -- what the fuck!"
"I didn't even know that was possible," Whitney says. "What a shitty day..."
"Unbelievable," Rose mutters. "The nerve -- after everything you've -- this is absolutely absurd..."
"It's really not a big deal," you say. "I know your dad doesn't like me. And it's not like I'm Oliver Twist, getting kicked to an orphanage somewhere."
"That's not the point!" Rose hollers. She springs to her feet. "The fucking gall of that man... and he didn't even tell you to your face? I'm gonna go give him a piece of my mind."
"Since when do you care so much about whether I've got a place in your family?"
"Fuck you!" She storms out.
You pick up the legal papers that Rose discarded, fold them back up, and -- more to give your hands something to do than anything -- move to place them back inside the envelope. But doing so, you notice a yellow sticky note inside that you hadn't at first. You pull it out and hold it up for Whitney to see, the adhesive side sticking to your forefinger.
"Saul's handwriting," you explain. "It must have fallen off the notice inside the envelope."
"What's it say?" Whitney asks.
You turn it over in your hand and read aloud.
Your heart sinks.
"A... a husband and wife cannot be compelled to testify against one another. While it is illegal for adopted siblings to marry... under California state law... first cousins can."
You look up. Whitney is wearing a broad, silly grin. She might have a jealous streak, but she appreciates the irony of the situation all the same, and she must especially appreciate the miserable look on your face right now.
You begin to say something, but you're not sure what, and quickly stop yourself.
"Can I be the best man?" Whitney says.
END OF EPISODE 11.