[NETWORK] Death of the old world, let the rule of strength begin!

[warped_ken_amada]

[Soon after a dead Falcon appears in the Velvet Room...]

I have observed this dimensional crossroads and I have been disappointed. So many of you have been blessed with great individual power, the ability to change the world, and you all squander it.

Wake up! The world you are living in is based on nothing but lies! The "rules" and "morality" are not necessary things to live in society, but cowardly artifices used by weak men to exploit others despite their lack of strength! The root of everything, what allows you to take action, what arbitrates conflicts, is power. Even the modern societies of lies are based upon it! They rely on the collective power of the masses to uphold their rotten structure! But we are beyond that.

A new age is beginning. The old world is dying, and a newer, fairer world dawns! The collective power of the masses which has allowed such perversion is weaker than our own individual, gifted power! Break the shackles of the old societies! Tear them apart! Rebuild them anew, under the rule of strength, as they were always meant to be! You who are gifted with strength, take your righftul places as rulers!

Or oppose me if you wish, but be aware that I am in a league of my own. Your robotic friend thought himself strong, and look what happened to him. In the end, you are my inferiors. Keep that in mind, and we should get along fine.

Comments

[willowandoak]

"I mean." He scrubs his free hand over his face. "It looked like that? We watched him go from, you know, a kinda human-shaped collection of parts to, oh, that's Falcon. But how do you stick a soul in a robot? ...But how do you stick a soul in a body if the body was dead? And Igor's done that twice. So. I think so."

[lakebrat]

"Hey. Sit back down. Let me finish this." He indicates the coffee, squeezing Ren's shoulder. Souls aren't even the strangest thing about the situation they find themselves in. If an assemblage of bone and protoplasm can contain a soul, why not a robot, if it knows enough to wish for one?

[willowandoak]

"I'm okay," he lies. "You look... are you all right?"

[lakebrat]

"Not enough off my game to fall for that one," he smiles—and, indeed, it's just a little shadowed, and gone the next second. He traces a finger down Ren's cheek.

"We have people here who've taken on gods. Actual gods. Crow—I think you know we can't keep him out of the picture on this—was happy enough to tell everyone he's done two. Phoenix did Maruki, I believe, when he was in his god period. But by the sound of things, you think it won't be enough, and...."

He glares down at the carafe, looking pale again. "I'm inclined to agree."

[willowandoak]

"Mm." He shifts unhappily. "It's not like... I know my Palace sucked but it was just a Palace. You got some people together who could fight, and you fought, and it was doable. But this guy. I don't know. We'll have to figure something out, but I don't know what."

[lakebrat]

"I'm willing to bet he's not all he's cracked up to be." Pressing his lips together, he turns back to the coffee. The alternative, after all—that Amada is truly undefeatable, and that they should all linger in some perpetual stalemate with him—isn't worth considering.

"Do you think Igor would tell us? If we had no prospect of beating him?" Goro is betting not. Better to watch them all die in the attempt, probably.

[willowandoak]

"Probably not," Ren is starting to say. But it's at that time that a certain message appears on Goro's phone, which is still on the table.

He stares at it in silence. Storm clouds gather in his expression.

[lakebrat]

Ssshhit. Goro knows that look. Come to that, his own expression is probably matching it. "So it's down to us, then."

[willowandoak]

Still in ominous silence, Ren pulls out his phone and types out a response to Elizabeth. Then he hurls his phone as hard as he can at the far wall of the café. The corner connects, leaving a little dent as the phone clatters to the floor.

[lakebrat]

Shit. Watching Ren's back, he comes closer, telegraphing his steps. So Igor and the rest have just lost control of their own prison. Why is he even surprised? And there are the kids here, and people with no powers at all, some of whom are kids....

He leans on the counter, near Ren, giving him space to calm down. "For fuck's sake," he mutters.

[willowandoak]

He stares down at his phone, breathing hard. His heartbeat pounds in his ears; a red haze clouds his vision.

"I need to kill something," he says.

[lakebrat]

It doesn't sound a bad idea. Goro rather wants to smash something himself. "Not Mementos. Why don't you show me Shido's Palace?"

[willowandoak]

That pulls him out of it a little. He glances sidelong at Goro. "You sure?"

[lakebrat]

But Goro meets his eye. "I wouldn't mind smashing something either. And Boss's ghost will haunt me if I do it here."

[willowandoak]

Ren glances at the dent in the wall. He doesn't have it in him to feel guilt right now, so he just picks up his phone. From a cursory check, it seems to be unharmed.

"All right. Let's head to Nagatacho."

Goro has said, Show me Shido's Palace, but Ren's not convinced he hasn't been in there himself. At the very least, he must have the keywords.

[lakebrat]

Been in there? Sure he has, and nearly died. He checked it not long before Ren joined the team, and nearly died then, too. As his mother's delicate Palace shrinks in size, his father's has been mushrooming.

He doesn't even feign surprise at the mention of Nagata-cho—though when they get there, he grins at the delightful mural of a crudely caricatured Shido that decorates the Diet today. "Your work?"

[willowandoak]

"Nah." He gives it a quick once-over. "Maybe I'll come back and add to it, though. No brainwashed Falcon to steal my paint cans this time." He taps Shido's name on the Nav, and the world warps around them. When it solidifies again, they're on the fucking ship.

Nothing of Ren is visible beneath his outfit. It's comforting.

[lakebrat]

This is not close to the furthest Goro has ever got. If he keeps quiet, he can get quite far—though never further than the door of the ridiculous restaurant. "The Ark of Elite, really," he mutters, with audible disgust and, somehow, chagrin.

He turns to offer Ren's faceless visage a shadowed, slanted smile, through the slits of his blue-white mask. "Unless it got tougher, I'd say you and I can take this place apart. And I don't mean with paint cans."

[willowandoak]

Caradoc stirs, laconic as usual but hungry to tear into the Palace. Ren tilts his head back to take in the whole building.

"I could've done it at home," he says. His voice is less muffled behind the mask than one might expect. "Sometimes when I was pissed off, I came here and thinned the crowd. I bet either of us could do it now."

He glances at Goro. "So how long do you think it'll take us both together?"

[lakebrat]

His little grin becomes sharper in reply, devoid of humour, turning upward beneath his mask. "Less than an hour. Unless we stop to stare along the way."

So they'd better begin. Drawing his sword, he heads for the stairs.

[willowandoak]

"Or unless the rat stuff fucks us up," he says, full of fake cheer, following after Goro with his knife in hand. "But I think I've got a handle on it by now. Fifty minutes."

[lakebrat]

Waitasec. Goro turns quickly back to him, at the top of the stairs. "The rat stuff? You mean Mot?"

The coffin Shadow, like in Futaba's Palace.

[willowandoak]

"No, like when the Shido statues see you and you turn into a rat." His humorless smile is hidden behind his mask, but it's audible in his voice. "You'll see."

[lakebrat]

Yeah. Goro takes a deep breath, shoulders rising, as the impact of that one hits him. Eventually, he looks back at the door. "I don't know why I'm even surprised."

And he goes in.