Omen begins skimming the alleyway himself. The shade provided by the cloaks, the passageways obscured by the discarded piles, the empty homes and abandoned buildings that one can run through to easily go on and off the rooftops are all there, but the pieces do not fit together in his memory. No combination of these details sparks any familiarity with him. He cannot remember.
But maybe... maybe he doesn't have to remember these past days alone. Because he never crossed these routes by himself.
After all, he was once the leader of a rebellion.
Omen focuses. He makes a broadcast to spread a message. But this time, it is not directed at the more rebellious residents of Titania, who share forbidden frequencies with one another as they seek to listen to something other than the 24/7 spew of corporate drab. Speeches of liberation, hope and salvation, updates on the latest incursion, readings of prohibited literature and actually good music.
This broadcast is none of these things. It is a request, and it is directed for a place beyond.
Somewhere in Sulad, the ethereal memories of spies and information gatherers have amassed at a location, at a set of coordinates that no physical being would ever be able to access. They have united once again, just as they were in life, with the impossible vastness of Sulad replacing the material walls of the base underneath the jewelry store.
At that location, a broadcast was being made.
"This is Lamina-00. I repeat, this is Lamina-00."
"I request information on the routes that we have used in our mortal lives.
"The ways in, the ways out, all centered at the jewelry store we once all called home."
"I will take the burden of a terrible secret as my price for such a demand. Do you copy?"
> LET THE DEAD SPEAK. You need the complete information- not only to get in, but to get out once you have established the base. You shall shoulder the burden of a terrible secret to preserve the secret of the jewelry store.
But maybe... maybe he doesn't have to remember these past days alone. Because he never crossed these routes by himself.
After all, he was once the leader of a rebellion.
Omen focuses. He makes a broadcast to spread a message. But this time, it is not directed at the more rebellious residents of Titania, who share forbidden frequencies with one another as they seek to listen to something other than the 24/7 spew of corporate drab. Speeches of liberation, hope and salvation, updates on the latest incursion, readings of prohibited literature and actually good music.
This broadcast is none of these things. It is a request, and it is directed for a place beyond.
Somewhere in Sulad, the ethereal memories of spies and information gatherers have amassed at a location, at a set of coordinates that no physical being would ever be able to access. They have united once again, just as they were in life, with the impossible vastness of Sulad replacing the material walls of the base underneath the jewelry store.
At that location, a broadcast was being made.
"This is Lamina-00. I repeat, this is Lamina-00."
"I request information on the routes that we have used in our mortal lives.
"The ways in, the ways out, all centered at the jewelry store we once all called home."
"I will take the burden of a terrible secret as my price for such a demand. Do you copy?"
> LET THE DEAD SPEAK. You need the complete information- not only to get in, but to get out once you have established the base. You shall shoulder the burden of a terrible secret to preserve the secret of the jewelry store.
it is me. awe921, the greatest face in all of koridai