Godclads

Chapter 19-3 Weapons of Ontology (II)

Regulars are an easy problem to solve so long as you have a nuke or a couple of nasty miracles on hand. But if you gotta handle them through conventional means, well…

I got two suggestions for you there: don’t; get more people.

Honest fact of the thing is that the Regs ain’t like you or me. They don’t think like us. They don’t feel like us. They don't hurt or even break like us. They’re beyond discipline. Beyond morale. Concepts and feelings become “yes-no” binaries to them when they get their orders, and the amount of time they spend deliberating or responding is closer to zero than any other number.

Sure. I’ve killed plenty. Gotten the drop on some. Got into knock-down-drag-out-brawls with others. Experience and creativity kept me alive. And I still ended up crawling away more dead than alive most times. Hells, sometimes not even that.

Get a phylactery if you can, consangs. You’ll need it.

When you get the chance, you should run a Reg vicarity first then change over to your standard gutter squire. Feel the difference. See the way they act. The former doesn’t really make material errors. They’re efficient. No hesitation. No missteps or incompetence. They don’t suffer from sheathe dysmorphia or non-inflicted psychosis, so if you want to drop them, hardware damage is the way to go–and you will need to kill every last one to consider the run done because they don’t break, and they sure as shit don’t run.

If a Reg you’re shooting at is missing and you can’t find them? They’re hunting you, and you need to move. And trying to grind them down using a Necro is a dicey affair considering their wards and how liberal they are at disrupting zones they can’t control.

Remember, these half-strands cut their teeth on Glaives and Incubi. This is esteemed company you’re running in, so you better perform.

Okay. If you’re still with me so far, you might be saying “Tavers, you old bitch, you just spent the last minute tonguing Highflame’s asshole! When am I going to get some practical advice on snuffing them.”

You fight based on your objectives. Job’s done? Retreat. Get out. The attrition isn’t worth it. Not done? Well, it’s time for some on-site condition shaping. You want to push this away from urban combat or close quarters if you can, and grind them down on a tactical level. Control the environment. Employ explosives. Lots of them. Constant. Flood the zone with drones if you have them so someone else can get shot. And never fire first. Fire only when you’re certain of a kill, because when you kill a Reg, the others will know, and they’ll be lining shots back to you through their Phys-Sims without a single shit given to their dead comrade.

Again. They’re not like you and me. They’re more like weapons than people. Instruments, if you’ll let me be a smartass. Not really that different from the ghouls if you want to look at things that way.

-Quail Tavers, School of the Warrens.

19-3

Weapons of Ontology (II)

Draus didn’t burn like all the others. Where most other egos were concrete entities wrapped by wards and layered with surface thoughts, the Regular was aberrant in its fluid ability to self-direct while accepting external pressures.

All minds are molded by feedback. Indeed, it isin the clash between nature against the state of one’s nurture where the sculpture of personality is carved into shape. During years of growth and formation arises a fusion between experience and genetic design.

Not quite so for Draus. If the other templates were perfect spheres, then she was a fracture. A crevice. Something that interfaced with the broader existence by letting it pass through her instead of internalizing the world outside within the depths of her mindscape.

Where even formidable minds like Abrel had limits to what torments they could endure before cracking, Draus was practically an elemental embodiment of will and action Her template moved among the others templates almost as if in a vacuum. Her memories were slippery even to Avo’s fire, and softer emotions like empathy or sorrow could only brush her person; oil passing upon water.

{I don’t think I’ve ever seen a psychometric reconstruction of a mind like hers…} Calvino said, sounding almost disturbed.

Avo, for his part, was consumed by fascination as he examined and slotted Draus just beside his base mind. So close, he wondered how her consciousness hadn’t collapsed on itself with all the parts it was missing. Little wonder even the Incubi strained to null a Regular. What was there to strike? With so many gulfs across her personhood, certain traumas might slip through her openings without striking anything foundational. The heartbreak of leaving a lover, the death of a parent, the genuine joy of having a comrade… Things known but not truly felt.

Even now, the chief sensations Draus felt when interacting with the cadre were excitement, determination, and savage delight–the kind closer to a ghoul ripping into flesh than a person chasing their dreams.

Ultimately, when judging Draus’ template in her totality and comparing its comprising sequences with the others, an epiphany sparked within Avo as he understood what a Regular truly was. More than being hyper-functional psychopaths, they thrived on their lack of humanity without being crippled by it. In some incomprehensible fashion, they operated without even thinking, body and instinct already knowing what to do without any deeper cognitive processing.

In the simplest sense, she was evolving away from needing a consciousness without losing her governing intellect, growing to become a set pattern of self-adapting responses nested in whatever sheathe they were assigned for the operation.

{Data cataloged,} Calvino said as Avo and Draus stared each other down, their egos bridged by a stream of rushing fire. {Her mind seems to be adapting to be able to take in selective feedback from her environment without true internalization. Learning with near-perfect data filtering. And unlearning or unadapting from undesired behaviors in an instant. It’s like her perfection of self barely exists–and is impersonal at that. Like an object to be regarded. And what she goes cataonic instead of losing her mind. There are no real borders to damage. Only unvalued mind space to lose.}

Template-Draus spoke for the first time within Avo, and her words were tinged with wry amusement, greeting the others around her as if they were a passing notice, annoyed above all else that she couldn’t exercise violence upon them. [You didn’t tell me how loud this godsdamned place was gonna be. Or how brittle you all are.] Her eyes bore deeper into his. [‘Cept for you, I guess. You’re like water now. Unbreakable. Easy to drown in.]

She was speaking of his hunger. How it used to guide him. Compelled him. Something beneath thought.

That, more than anything else, gave them symmetry. The fact they could understand and conceptualize the world regardless only pulled them closer.

“My kind is all urge,” Avo said. “You are living action. More intellect than awareness. Seems we share an envy.”

[Seems so,] Draus said, casually accepting the changing state of things.

Overlapping her template with his cognitive core, his awareness narrowed into a tunnel. Peripheral considerations or ruminations ceased to be. The world became of three tracks. Past–for review. Present–for acting. Future–for anticipating. He knew what he had to do right now, and muted annoyance prickled inward. Wasting time was a bad habit. He stopped doing it.

Infusing Draus with all the memories and thought processes he had from Abrel, the Paladins, and the Fallwalkers, he checked her Rend, anchored her enhanced template back within her sheathe, and then liquefied her brain. He caught her corpse via her implants before it could collapse using his newly imbued magnetism, his segmented Echoheads parting into a constellation of hovering discs to direct his bioelectric field.

Placing her back into her chair, he turned away from her just as reality began to scab around her, drawing a curious response from Dice.

[Well, that’s was somethin’ new,] template-Draus said. [Never got to feel myself die from inside another body before. Whatever ‘myself’ means anymore.] The Regular's contemplation lasted the barest second before she moved on. [Can’t say I knew what to expect, becoming a simulation. Expected more burning.]

[Oh, trust me, it gets plenty painful in here sometimes,] template-Chambers said, cutting into the dialogue. [Like when we got Rashed.]

[He means when his true self ended up Rashing us a bit over two days ago,] Abrel elaborated.

Draus noted the other two templates with faint indifference. [Half-strand. Greatling.]

[Captain Draus,] Abrel said, voice tense and thoughts taut. There were things she wanted to say, tensions she wished to express. But at the forefront of her mind, there was but one inquiry. [I understand that you served under my mother.]

Draus sneered. [Yeah. “Served” ain’t exactly the right word by the end. But that ain’t want you wanted to ask, is it? Wanna know what she was like? Or if I regretted deserting her!]

A beat passed. Abrel swallowed, despite lacking organs for such an action. [Did she actually…]

[Yeah. A bit worse than the actual reports, even. We got orders to pull back and regroup. She was just mad that a couple of uppity Silvers could push her out of our districts. So she decided to throw a little tantrum and get herself and what was left of my war host snuffed.]

[And you just… left her,] Abrel said.

[There were two sets of orders for me to follow. I picked which one I wanted to listen to.]

[You’re not supposed to do that! You’re a Reg. You’re supposed to be–]

[Obedient? Like a nu-dog? Or a machine? Nah. That ain’t what we’re for. We ain’t just code and responses. Set patterns. Besides, your kind’s supposed to be worthy seein’ as you’re the ones with the Souls and all. But then she went on to lose us that war. And here you are, chained to a ghoul’s mind. And inside me is your brother’s Frame. Don’t seem so blessed or worthy to me no more.]

With each word Draus spoke, Abrel flinched as if whipped. [I–you–fucker…]

Disappointment became the Regular. [Hm. Well. You ain’t like her. You’re just a juv still. I can feel you about to cry. Like a child.] She sighed, knowing that she wasn’t going to get any kind of thrill from this confrontation. [This is pathetic. Avo. Did you change her template?]

+Not fundamentally,+ he said.

[Well that’s just sad.] Addressing Abrel again, Draus took the Godclad in and shrugged. [Ain’t got too much to say to you. Your kind lost the war. Your ma was a cunt. I’m glad the Silvers got her. I’m glad they hurt her good and slow. But you ain’t her. Too much feeling. Too much anger. She was all indignation and arrogance, had none of your doubt.] She snorted a taunting laugh. [But hell, I can practically feel how big that boulder on your shoulder is, so here, let me set you free: she was a better ‘Clad than you. She lost a war. You just lost a couple of consangs. Ain’t no competiton at all.]

[You fucking bitch–we’re not done!] Abrel seethed. [I’m not finished talking to you!]

[Don’t matter. I don’t care none about you right now–got pressing shit to handle. I see now why the ghoul’s always distracted. He’s got a godsdamned drama stream on in his mind every second he’s alive. Avo. Get back to the grafting. And have Kae build me something that can shoot this time. You got my memories now. You know what I want better than I do.]

Flashes of a certain Paladin’s Bladegunner Heaven entered Avo’s awareness and he grinned. Just what the Bullet-Breeders were for.

But before he resumed his conversation with Kae, he looked to Essus, to one of the few others besides Kae he hadn’t burned. Standing next to Tavers–who was taking in the scene with an unreadable, contemplative expression–his eyes widened as he realized what the ghoul was suggesting. His body froze in the way a prey species might when faced by a predator.

For a few choked seconds, the brown of his eyes swiveled as he looked across the other faces and people present in the chamber. For a moment–just a heartbeat–Avo thought Essus would surrender. Would give himself to the fire. But then the man shook his head, and Avo’s opinion of him rose sevenfold.

“No,” Essus breathed. “No.”

“I can take the damage away,” Avo said, more out of obligation and compulsion by Draus’ aspects than anything else. “Give you peace. Give you joy.”

“I…” The man stopped before he could say he didn’t want those things. He did. All baseliners did. They were things of pleasure and chemistry and feedback. But they were also more. From the cracks lining their animal instincts sprouted ideals. Beliefs. Principles.

Faiths.

“I want to keep my pain,” Essus said, finally. “Or the self that I can continue to shape. With my decisions. And consequences. Do not spare me the lash. Do not.”

Avo nodded with open admiration. Again, he found himself contrasted with another–two of a dichotomy. One constantly becoming. One determined to remain the same. A portrait of existence beyond self, if there ever was one.

Draus snorted next to him. [Fuck me, this is how you think? Godsdamned ghoul that burned me just had to be a bullshit philosopher. Ain’t got no idea how the rest of you take it.] She considered the other templates again. [Well. Maybe you’re all part of the problem]

Avo directed a phantasmal glare at the Regular. +Regret burning you already.+

[Too late, pussy. I’m gonna be calling you a sow from inside your head every time I catch one of these tangents. He said no. Move on or burn him.]

Grumbling, Avo turned back to Kae to find the Agnos biting her lip, arms folded tight to her chest.

It didn’t take much to understand what inspired such an anxious response in her.

“I not going to ask you,” Avo said.

“I know,” Kae replied, her voice small, a loneliness emanating from her person. Thought and emotion were ill companions at times, for though she could see the truth behind his actions, a baser fear would always linger, worried the flame would be returning to encompass her, surround her, consume her.

Intellectually, she knew only boons and empowerment came from Avo’s flame, but her scars cast a long shadow, and she would rattle with cascading traumas before Avo had to rebuild her, lest she shatter outright.

“Should return to the task at hand,” Avo said, gently pushing her. Something Draus approved of. She liked Kae. Cared for her as much as she could anyone. There was something there even she couldn’t put into words, a kind of reflexive protectiveness that required no prompting.

“Yes,” Kae agreed, her pitch lifting as she sought comfort in her craft anew. “Where were we? Ah! Yes. The Heavens.” She looked to Avo, paused, and beamed. “You know another absolutely fantastic thing about your Stillborn? The Frame born of my labors?”

“What?”

“All it takes to dismantle a poor build is just a death. We have time to ourselves now. I think it is time to put our suggestions and desires into practice. Experience and adjust how our canons might work in practical circumstances.”

[Hells] Draus laughed, [this is a lot better than just sitting around and thinkin’ ‘bout shit.]

“Need testing grounds. Places where we’ll be hard to notice. Where Heavens can hide.”

Tavers cleared her throat. “Well. I think I might be able to help with that.”

“Got recommendations?” Avo asked, turning to glance at her.

“Got a favor I could call in,” Tavers clarified. “Might take a day or two depending on how busy he is.”

“Can we trust this favor?”

The squire threw back her head and laughed. “Ha! No. That’s why I have blackmail. And a bomb planted inside their nu-dog.”

Hearing these words caused Dice to hug her kitten tight and hide it away from Tavers.

“Insurance. Good.” Avo grunted. “Suppose we should sync our suicides after Draus gets back. Start with initial prototypes?”

“Yes,” Kae chirped, shuffling with excitement.

“Ah, shit,” Chambers giggled, “time to kill myself and get me some new Heavens.”

“You guys have no idea how weird hearing this conversation is,” Tavers deadpanned.

***

Multiple Heavens Enhanced

Grafting Completed

Generating Summation of [“PROTOTYPE”] Builds…

User - {Avo}

[Woundshaper] updated to [Woundmother, Architectress of Sanguinity] - 6,122 THAUM/c Total (Heaven/Hell)

[Zephyr of the Nine-Paths] updated to [Fardrifter, Seeker of Horizons] - 3,100 THAUM/c (Heaven/Hell)

[Datacaster] updated to [Techplaguer, Mechanical Contagion] - 150 THAUM/c (Heaven/Hell)

User - {Jelene Draus}

[Twice-Walker] updated to [Simulacra Resplendent, Legion of Self] - 6,211 THAUM/c Total (Heaven/Hell)

[Rimelost dismantled]-> Domain of Ice x1; Domain of Navigation x1; Domain of Endurance x1

[Bullet-Breeder] Grafted

[Bullet-Breeder] updated to [The Arsenalist of Unceasing Ordinance] - 2,899 THAUM/c Total (Heaven/Hell)

User - {Aedon Chambers}

[Lushburner] updated to [Bio-Igniter, Flesh-for-Fuel, Fire-for-Flesh. Fetish-for-All] - 1,100 THAUM/c Total (Heaven/Hell)

[Starvation’s Envy] Ungrafted (Stored in Stillborn)

[Snake-King] Grafted

[Snake-King] updated to [Fucktopia, A.K.A Rash Central] - 522 THAUM/c Total (Heaven/Hell)

User - {Kae Kusanade}

[Aegis of Tides] updated to [Maelstromer, Warden of Wind and Wave] - 1,080 THAUM/c Total (Heaven/Hell)

User - {Dice}

[Runebreaker] updated to [Runemade, Shadow-Devouring-Bright] - 1,933 THAUM/c Total (Heaven/Hell)