Recursion of Fate[TEXT] (Let's make a deal)

[mysticCharlatan]

>Chester: Resist urge to start the game without everyone.

Sure. Everyone came over to play this thing, you can wait the thirty seconds it takes to get everyone toge-

>Chester: Fail spectacularly.

I'm afraid we are running out of time Chester.

It will only take them about thirty seconds to get down here. Surely you can catch them up on anything they missed. Plus, you seem to recall that this game has something of a drop-in/drop-out feature, though you can't really recall where you picked up that particular piece of information.

You become vaguely aware of a faint buzzing in the back of your skull as you hit the new game option.

You are prompted to enter a username, and in a fit of unoriginality you choose your chumhandle, supremeSingularity.

For a moment, nothing happens. The buzzing increases in volume.

Then, the screen begins to glow a faint green light. The opening cinematic must be starting. The buzzing becomes louder.

The green light increases in intensity. The buzzing is joined by a mild pain, right behind your eyes.

The green light becomes brighter, far brighter than you mediocre television has any right to be.

The pain and buzzing become a general fuzziness, enveloping your mind.

Then the screen flashes, blindingly bright. There is a popping sound, and then

nothing.

Quite literally nothing.

No light. No sound. No television.

No loveseat, no table, no game room.

Your last thought, before you lose consciousness, is What?

Not very eloquent, but appropriate.

[Fayth]

> Everyone else: Come downstairs, find out what happened to Chester

[trulyElse]

Wait. Was the last thought "What?" or was it up to us to suggest?

Oh well.

> Everyone: Come in.

[Malrone]

>Kids: Enter

[mysticCharlatan]

>Kids: Enter.

The Game Room now stands empty of living inhabitants. I am quite sure, that if we could somehow be the Game Room, we would feel a deep sense of peace. We would savour that peace, as it seems that more people are coming, and I'm sure we would anticipate quite a commotion once they discover their friend is missing.

But we can't be a room, can we?

Well then, I suppose we can get back to the story?

[mysticCharlatan]

==>

PSYCHE!!!

Alright, sorry about that. But in all seriousness, there are a few things that need to be looked into before we move on.

You also may be pleased to know that I have found a way to locate AI.

Turns out I was going about it all wrong. I was looking about in space, when I should have been scanning TIME.

Thankfully, as the NARRATOR I have abilities to take the story back a few moments, so if you will excuse me...

[trulyElse]

> Be AI

[simon.clarkstone]

> Someone: take Chester upstairs.

[mysticCharlatan]

>Be AI.

Alright, just a moment to adjust the temporal coordinates...

You are an eighteen year old girl with the chumhandle aimlessInfinity, a few hours in the past from when Chester begins playing Smyth, and you have just finished a very cathartic crying season.

You have been crying due to the disturbing VISIONS and DREAMS that have been becoming more and more common in recent days. You have been plagued by these for as long as you can remember, but never with this frequency, or with such disturbing implications.

Before we get into that odd stuff, why don't you let us know your name?

[Malrone]

Victoria Adams

[trulyElse]

> Nella Walker

[mysticCharlatan]

You are now VICTORIA WALKER, a girl of eighteen, currently with green eyes and hair of matching color. You change your hair color every couple of months because... well, you really don't know, but you're sure your remember having a reason once. Your eyes are currently covered by a thick BLINDFOLD, partially because the light, even when blocked by your eyelids, heavily irritates them, and partially because you find it hightens your special abilities.

You are not what you would call a NORMAL TEENAGER. You are continually plagued by PROPHETIC DREAMS AND VISIONS. These psychic experiences have the annoying habit of being RANDOM, CONFUSING, and OFTEN IRRELEVANT TO THE SITUATION. Even when they are relevant, by the time you figure them out, your window of opportunity to do anthing about what you have seen has passed, and-

Linsday is out of b!^eath. That fact alone says some%&$thing, as she is one of the most athletic people you know.

1 can7 bel1ev@$#% 17
1 can7 bel1eve #^#__&^@#@$-

Goddammit you hate it when they interupt you like that.

Anyway.

Beyond these phenomina, your interests aren't that many. You have managed to piece together a few details about A GREAT DISASTER that is about to befall you and several of your friends. You know that they will begin disappearing, one by one, and only after this has happened a few times will the group be able to piece together why (it is really infuriating having vision which tell you that you will know the answer, and not actually informing you what the answer is). You know that you will all be in great danger, and that there are individuals that are going to be (or perhaps are even now) making attempts on your lives.

And you know, or rather, found out this morning, that all of this will start today.

You also know that this would sound crazy to the average person: why would anyone make assination attempts on a bunch of random teenagers? For this reason, you have kept your visions to yourself. Because of this, most people consider you somewhat ALOOF AND MYSTERIOUS. You consider yourself COMPLETELY IN OVER YOUR HEAD.

Because of the upcoming threat, you have devoted much of your free time to COMBAT TRAINING. You are greatly skilled in HAND TO HAND COMBAT, of both ARMED and UNARMED varieties. The only people you know who can outfight you are Lindsay and her father, and in Lindsay's case you are actually pretty evenly matched.

You are currently wearing a set of VERY FUNCTIONAL CLOTHING. Easy to move around in, not too flashy and not too drab, just plain enough that you could slip into a crowd unnoticed. You are standing in the main room of your SPARSELY DECORATED APPARTMENT, which consists of a BED, a TABLE, a few CHAIRS, the necessary KITCHEN APPLIANCES, and a LARGE CHEST containing your DULLED TRAINING WEAPONS and two very real SWORDS. Beyond this, there is a door leading into the CRAMPED BATHROOM, and another leading out into the appartment complex's MAIN HALLWAY.

Inventory:

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Apparel: Very Functional Clothing, Thick Blindfold

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And the naming streak (kinda) resumes...

[trulyElse]

> Victoria: Equip a VERY REAL SWORD.

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While she is still (kinda) named by me, she no longer fits the arbitrary pattern I had been going for with my suggestions, so I wouldn't count it.
Also, what is up with Lindsay's dialog in that update?

[Malrone]

>Victoria: admire USELESS PIECE Of -I mean, VERY REAL SWORD. Prepare to face to the disaster about to befall you.

[simon.clarkstone]

> Wander around apartment with blindfold still on.
> Zen conduct: never take the blindfold off.

[mysticCharlatan]

>Victoria: Wander around apartment with blindfold still on.

Not a problem. You know this apartment like the back of your hand, and could indeed navigate it blindfolded, forgive the use of a very obvious expression.

You wander around a bit, expertly avoiding the few pieces of furnature and squeeky floorboards (no particular reason for that, just wanting to see how well you remember where they are placed).

You find yourself in the KITCHEN/DINING AREA, which is really the just the back left hand corner of the appartment.

>Victoria: Prepare to face the disaster about to befall you.

Well, first order of business: calm down. You aren't going to be of any use to anyone if you're a bundle of nerves.

You look around for some tea leaves, which doesn't take long as you know where they are and exactly how many you have left (you are sure by now anyone watching could tell that you were the blindfold around the house semi-regularly). You smile as you grab the kettle and begin filling it with water. You remember how you first got a hold of your extensive tea collection. It was back when you were trying to suppliment your precognative abilities with more "mundane" forms of FORTUNE TELLING, such as tarot cards or tasseography. None of them did much of anything, but you still have a few relics from that period of your life. Your love of tea is indeed one of these. Nothing calms your nerves like a good cup of tea.

As you set the kettle on the stove, you turn. It will be a few minutes until it is ready.

>Victoria: Equip a VERY REAL SWORD.

You might as well do something that is bit more directly productive. Perhaps you can get some training time in this morning.

You walk over to your LARGE CHEST and retrieve one of you VERY REAL SWORDS.

>Victoria: Admire USEL@#$$@__@#$ VERY REAL SW&RD

Comm@nd !nput eRR3r. You are current#$@ly blindfolded, and thu$ can't see.

Please ch()0se anothe!^ sense with which to admire your sword.

[Naristar]

fingers admire how sharp it is!

[Malrone]

Grasp the SWORD, and go through the motions while waiting for your water.

Hearing: The gentle hum of the metal.
Feeling: The balance of its movement.

Be one with the blade.

[mysticCharlatan]

>Fingers: Admire how sharp it is!

Ah yes. The cool steel of the blade is perfection itself under you fingertips. Your hand glides along the entire length, feeling the smoothness of the flat of the blade, broken only by the engraving "VAGUS". And of course, the sharpness blade itself. Honed to perfection, you can't imagine a better weapon.

>Victoria: Go through the motions to while waiting for the water.

You leave the kitchen and make your way to the centre of the room, where there is little to get in your way. You grasp the sword in your hand, revelling the familiar feel of it, the perfectly balanced weight.

You wait for a moment. Sometimes you happen to have a vision of combat when you pratice like this, so you always wait a moment before beginning to give it a chance to happen.

Nothing. Aways when you never expect it, never when it would be convenient.

No matter. You don't need a vision, or a sparring partner. You just need a blade in your hand, and the shadows that hide in the corners of your mind. Here, there is no dark past or fearful future, no life or death, nothing at all except for you and your weapon. The hum of the blade as it slices through your imagined foes, your fears and dread, you feel a lightness you have not known in a long time. You will cut through this, just like the blade. You are one with the blade.

You are the blade.

It is you.

You feel as though there may be a chance. A chance that whatever is going to happen will end well. A chance that you and your friends will make it through this. Perhaps even a chance that this future could be avoided. You feel-

Oh hey, the kettle's whistling.

[trulyElse]

> Victoria: Water Get.

[Malrone]

>Tea: Be made into the delicious ambrosia you are.

[Xindaris]

>Victoria: Realize the thoughts you're having and resolve to never, ever go sword-crazy and start killing everybody around you to "make it okay".

[simon.clarkstone]

((Well, since you so subtly hinted with that engraving...))
> Victoria: how long have you lived here? Where were you before?

[mysticCharlatan]

> Victoria: how long have you lived here? Where were you before?

Let's see... It's been about two years since you moved into this place. Before that, you were simply bouncing around foster homes, never really staying put for long, never growing any connections.

You are currently between foster homes at the moment.

You are exceptionally glad the guy you're renting this appartment from takes money without questions.

>Victoria: Get water.

You take the kettle off the stove. That whistling is beginning to grate on your nerves.

You browse through your selection of teas from memory, eventually deciding on a nice rooibos. You tear open the bag and pour the contents into a cup (another habit from your fortune reading days) and then pour to water.

You take a sip. Oh heavenly ambrosia, how you have longed for this taste!

You hear the vibration of your CELLULAR PHONE on the table. Apparently someone is calling you.

[trulyElse]

>Victoria: Answer