[Rave] Lights and Lasers

The false light of a trap barrier transformed the hallway into the coming prison... only said prison held no bars, no daunting pits, and no lack of functional use.

Rave's knowledge of Praxis was the bare minimum to know whether she was in a civvy electronics store or a "secret" mass-market mage shop of what little magitech Praxis permitted to be sold to monied mages. She knew of their small front operation in Springfield, naturally, but had seldom reason (and certainly not the funding) to go shopping there; she knew what their tech looked like well enough to know to keep it off the Auction; and she knew that theft--real, intellectual, or informational--was the greatest crime recognized by that mysterious, conglomerate mesh of magical corporations.

If John and company had truly crossed an unseen line--stumbling, blind, and possibly resurrected from the dead as they had been--into a secret Praxis facility disguised as an alien, cursed Kingdom... well, that was terrible luck. Too terrible to be believed; no Praxis pawn in charge would believe that story, and Rave was no longer sure she believed it. In any case, they'd be treated like corporate spies... and Praxis had no tolerance for those.

At least, that's the reputation they fostered.

But rather than a short fall into lava or some other nefarious trap, Rave and the rest had been teleported to another sort of hall, one flanked by black, square pillars of blinking lights and black-painted steel with hardly a gap between them. The low, electric buzz in the air was juxtaposed by the thin, blue liquid that seeped from their bases and quickly poured into lines of steel grates in the floor that flanked their base, each eagerly drinking the discharge with wide gaps. The space between servers was nearly thirty feet wide where they had appeared and narrowed as it approached the center. The ceiling too had changed dramatically: vaulted and perhaps a dozen stories tall, the pyramid shape of it suggested it extended to or nearly to the dimensions of the fortress itself. Behind them, a blank wall of blue steel marked the end of the barrier with small gaps permitting one to go left or right.

Rave looked again to what lay ahead some two hundred feet or more, seemingly at the center of the barrier: a plateau or platform of silver sitting atop a stack of rotating gears, each on its flat side and with their teeth grinding in an alternating pattern of clockwise and counter-clockwise, with every tooth of these colossal gears arcing energy between themselves and their neighbors. The intimidating pillar of static slowly pulsed a field of translucent blue energy that engulfed the space around the plateau, just shy of the nearest pillars; it bubbled upwards and created a dome of blue light over the silver disk on top, forming a kind of shield over the stage as if to protect an unseen speaker. Rave took a head count of those who came along--Tricia, Rosa, Travolta, and Yui--as each did the same in turn. Only Yui and Tricia seemed eager to begin touching things; the latter pressed a hand against one of the formidable towers and pushed to find that the obelisk of green and blue indicators barely budged. Yui tapped on the server with testing knocks as she muttered one of her odd spells.

"These don't look like the quantum servers Praxis allegedly developed..."

"They're not," Yui corrected, "they're older models... a lot older, the sort my old boss was supposed to teach me to crack… at least well enough to get out of places like this."

Rave glanced back at the T-shaped hallway that seemed their only alternative to marching down to the center of the barrier. "Blondie, Lois Lane, focus! Where are we?"

Yui answered as she backed away from the group with furtive glances at the slabs of lights and metal, "This is a fortified server farm. Praxis is said to have persistent barriers like these hidden all over the place… and w-we definitely shouldn't be here. This is probably one of their blacksites, we're talking deep territory. We're not even warded against detection-"

“Then why pull us into it?”

Yui took a moment to shake her head at that. “A barrier this secure is as good a prison as any they could try and make on the fly. Their servers are here and at risk, technically… but they’re backed up by the barrier. They’re never in danger of permanent loss… but we are unless we find the authority and trick it.”

“It’ll be a mage in here with us, right?”

“It could easily be a device, or both,” Tricia corrected, “depending on where Praxis is on emulating or stealing the secrets of the Fateweavers or their competitors.”

“T-This would be near-impossible if they weren’t aware of us… but now, surely…”

As Yui continued to vocalize her terror, Tricia knelt by a nearby server and let one of her drones examine the fluids leaking from them. Rosa, having only ever heard of Praxis, simply glared about for signs of an unknown threat. Rave watched them each in turn… and considered, more terribly, what being here might mean for her father. Most places didn’t have strong intel or means to pierce through her disguises… but she was here, undisguised and with her name and face thrown around enough for Praxis to find her home… and when Praxis wiped someone out, they were said to be quite thorough.

Travolta's hands clenched into fists as he shook with rage. "I fucking knew it... I mean, fuck, I knew it was weird that no one had barriers or... god damn it, why the fuck is Praxis out here?! I thought we were out in the sticks, but now we're-!"

"Baldy, chill!"

"Rave, we cannot be caught running around here! It'll be bad for you... for-"

“You think I haven’t figured that out?!” Rave glared back at Travolta, her eyes shimmering. He was stopped dead in his tracks... but swallowed and stared right back. She knew the stakes now... they both did.

"Oh, we're way past it getting bad." A pillar of light shone upwards from the heart of the central platform, broken only by the shadow of a humanoid figure, stretched and exaggerated in the spotlight cast above, as the booming voice echoed from unseen speakers across the facility.

Tricia and the rest began backing towards the end of the server hallway; here as they were, they'd be sitting ducks in plain sight.

"It got bad when you decided to raid our facility, and when you infiltrated us... twice... and it got so much uglier when you had the gall to come up with the WORST cover story I think I've ever heard!" The voice was masculine and human; it spoke English with an old, heavy accent that no one present could place. The first of him to be seen was the segmented, machine-built helmet that rested on his shoulders: a golden faceplate was broken only by a black visor, and a blackened titanium dome formed the rest of the visible parts of his head. Wide tassels of the same decoration hung over his chest like exaggerated locks of hair, each tipped in the same gold that made the curved, decorative horn that made a mock beard for the visage of this new enemy. Brown skin peeked from his neck where the helmet ended and flesh began, but this too vanished into the collar of a shirt.

“Order refugees? A runaway pair of Gorbachevs? Auction goons?”

Shit… shit! Rave’s mind struggled to come to terms with just how bad things had gotten. Her eyes scanned the chamber for advantages and hiding places, but none were present save the ones everyone had already noted: the narrow gaps between the last servers near the barrier’s edge and the solid wall itself. Like cornered animals, each had instinctively flinched towards the back.

“It’s a rich story, I admit... but rich is piss-poor when it comes to excuses for you to try and take what’s ours.” Rave did not dare correct him; she could only hope his disbelief meant nothing had been taken seriously… and her father was safe.

The man was fully revealed as the platform clicked into place: a tan coat over a segmented gray polyester shirt, a plain, black leather belt, and khakis over brown loafers covering plaid socks completed the bizarre fusion of a futuristic cyberpunk capitalist and an out-of-touch grandfather in the 20th century. Segmented plates of gold covered black-gloved fingers that he clapped together once as he stared at them with an eager curiosity.

“I see,” Tricia declared in a confident voice, “then you must be…”

The stranger half-bowed with one hand raised and another to his chest. Although hidden, his smug smile could be felt even through the visor-

“... Bianca the Peak.”

The man froze in place… and present minds slowly turned towards Tricia.

She glanced back at them with equal confusion. “Bianca is the current Peak, and must be running this entire operation.”

“Do I look like a Bianca to-!” The stranger suddenly gasped as if caught spilling a secret. He tapped his helmet as he shook it to and fro in a brief worry. “Ooooh, right, right, the HR update… last thing I want to do is be fined for... yes, yes, gender fluidity and all that newest craze from Earth. I fully support that Biancas might even look like men right now, or do whatever other modifications- erm, that is, the corporations of Praxis are each equal-opportunity employers that favor merit over the prejudices of the old world- whatever, you’ve read the pamphlet.” His fashion was dictating his nature more than his helm and gloves could, now. “But I am not Bianca, you dolt! What kind of spies are you?” A beat passed as their whimsical warden planted his hands comically on his waist and leaned forward. “No, really. We’ve been taking bets ever since you sent that hermaphrodite in--err, that young lady with a penis… whatever, the point being that I’m frankly eager to prove you’re not ours.”

“Y-Yours?”

“Well, Lambda’s… oh, but I’m betting you decided to wave around one of our unregistered disruptor cannons to throw me off the trail or sully our good name… well, bad news for you lot: I can see right through your poorly-manufactured facade, so you can bet my superiors do too!” He cracked his knuckles as menacingly as he could while wearing khakis and with his gloves clicking the entire time. “We just need enough evidence to convince the rest before the fines and accusations start flying… and that’s where you’ll come in.”

“We are not spies,” Travolta suddenly yelled, “we just want to get out of here!”

“Hostile takeover, then? That was Bianca’s bet, but it seemed too stupid to be realistic. What would you do, really, given how many guns would be pointed at your head after such an acquisition?”

“It’s the truth-”

“Right, I know you’re not going to tell me the truth yet.” A loud whirring noise began to sound, and soon black shelves rose on either side of the enemy. Rave and the rest were suddenly bolting for cover behind the servers, narrow as said cover would be for two or three people apiece; their sprint had come as each, in turn, caught the first sights of weapons ranging from futuristic pistols to heavy, infantry-operated ordinance. The unidentified shooter laughed as he took one of the rifles, its styling matching his helmet, and cradled it lazily in his arm while he decided on an off-hand gun.

Of all the Praxis cyberjunkies to cross, why Lambda?!

The pistol he pulled off the rack had a bulbous mana battery sticking out of its rear and a complex-looking scope peeking out over the blackened steel barrel. He turned to the ceiling as he hoisted his guns lazily down the lane, but Rave knew enough about Praxis smartguns to know the trick: he wouldn't be missing for want of aim. His helmet probably gave him the gun’s view along with all manner of ballistic data… and everyone was still scattering and running towards predictable goals.

Rosa and Tricia were first to dive behind the narrow sides of the servers, filling either gap with their body as they struggled to make room for Travolta, Yui, and Rave without compromising their own positions; if they went too far, their backs or limbs would stick out in the next alleyway… and in clear view of the madman’s guns. Travolta dove right after Tricia, and Yui left to almost slam into Rosa. Rave was nearly within reach of Travolta, doing her best to not look back.

"Now, where are you going? You clearly haven't even seen what the TX-99 does, else you wouldn't even be running right now!" Rave glanced back as the pistol’s muzzle turned to a rimless hole… signaling that it pointed right to her head. The shooter's voice growled, "You'd know it wouldn't help."

Rave focused on making her body into light as his intent became clear. Her hair and face bloomed into beautiful yellow radiance... and became a discordant prism as the pseudo-scream of radiation escaped her. The “TX-99” had emitted a green lance of quickened photons that could carry the impact and trauma of a bullet with a speed nearly matching basic light… and yet remain as light.

Indeed, light of a sort very familiar to the shifted body of Rave.

The beam had not missed--perhaps could not miss--its mark, striking Rave where her right eye had come into view and exploding out of the opposite side of her head. The uniform green beam had gone in, but what came out was a shotgun blast of various shades of blue, yellow, and red that burned, froze, dented, or discolored the wall beyond her with chaotic energies.

Rave, her head converting back into flesh and hair once the trauma had been inflicted, stumbled towards Travolta's waiting arm before being pulled in behind cover.

The shooter cocked his head long enough to not take a second shot. "... Well, now that’s interesting."

Blondie really seems to love this guy- no one fucks with my dad- this guy is faster than- fuck, the slime, it's- idiotic biker gangs of mages, who the fuck learns magic just to- I'm not going to stop going, but I'll be damned if I quit Collide either- fine, then I guess we'll make them new members of- "FUCK!" Rave screeched as Travolta tried to hold her down, her hand cupping her right eye as she cursed and spat.

"Rave, I'm here," Tricia urged as Yui and Rosa cowered across the gap, "let me see-"

Rave let her aching eye show... and blinked at Tricia with an eye socket, and eye, of whites and grays. Her left eye was normal: still that crystal blue and now with the bright shimmers of pink that marked her eyes after using her magic. But the right eye held no shimmer, no blue, and no color at all in its grayscale, almost flat appearance. Travolta looked down at Rave’s hair as Tricia examined her and blinked at the small, circular patch of white that now stained her usual, uniform pink hair. The rest of her had remained unchanged… at least externally. "What the Hell did that thing do to her...?"

Rave laughed nervously as she realized she could still see. The searing pain had reached her in a way that she had not experienced before... nor would want to again. Her thoughts struggled to solidify into coherence; she was here to... do what? To save John? No, that was days ago... "Fuck, that thing... messed up my head..."

Travolta flicked between Rave and Tricia as he shrieked, "What's wrong with her?!"

"She's... well," Tricia whispered as she read the scan from her wrist, "she's fine, albeit fatigued and operating on high levels of adrenaline... but I won't be able to more thoroughly evaluate her until we get out of this situation."

“Situation?” Travolta repeated.

"You're not getting out of this, love.”

The company on Rave's side froze in place as the noise emitted from the server behind them. The server had transmitted the shooter’s voice… and based on his reply, it had also caught what they had said.

"The entire facility must be bugged,” Tricia loudly declared, “we have to be careful how we communicate."

“Clever, and with a real piece of work of a suit… so you seem to be the medic. Gorbachev’s a pretty good cover,” the stranger prattled as he swapped weapons, “but you could have faked the eye magic a bit better… like at all?”

Tricia cleared her throat as she announced, “We invoke Praxis Customer Relations Guideline three-point-five-point-six and demand arbitration for-”

“Arbitration is for consumers, not takers,” he tersely replied, “so if you want to be taken alive… well, I’m at least re-thinking it. I figured we could pick your bodies and brains apart well enough to find out where you came from, but I would love to study what you managed to put together in that suit… and the pink-haired one. Interesting reaction to energy munitions…” He put another weapon down as they cowered, opting for a third from his host of options. “It helps that she’s cute.”

“Fuck you,” Rave spat.

“So crass. Now! You'd be well-treated, pending your cooperation, if you all just surrendered in the next… let’s say, five seconds? It’s four, now."

"Who..." Tricia cleared her throat and tried not to let the tremble enter her words. "Who are you, then? We only know you’re not Bianca."

"You've had time to do your homework, yeah? Mucking about on the Plate all this time as you have. I believe our intel shows you even got a rundown from the locals, but… well, you can call me Alois… or as the locals call me, ‘the Destroyer of ****.’ You may also need reminding that I’m no one to take lightly. I’ll give you a final set of three seconds tender your surrender.”

The name had come and gone in the primer they received from Golgon upon first arriving, but it had been that of one of the worshipped Humans, a name only taken now as part of one’s ascension to the Peak…

Rave’s mind tried to get back to the present, but flashes of that conversation began to come back. … But there’s only one Peak. Bianca, right? But if that story’s bullshit too...

“You’re… you’re pretending to be the Peaks who ascend into office,” Tricia suddenly concluded with a slow, relaxing exhale, “but really… it’s just you three in a cycle, isn’t it? Or you yourselves are elected by Praxis to pretend at-”

“And… with… that… ah, out of time. You were getting close to how we do it though, love, I promise! Too close, really. Please try not to die too quickly or all together, if possible.”

A soft noise, like metal detaching from metal, could be heard clicking from somewhere in the cavernous barrier. Rave shook her head as her brain unscrambled. She dared a glance around the corner, taking care to not let any part of her end up in the enemy’s vision; with just that, she caught sight of a pair of floating orbs that had detached from the centerpoint of the ceiling and were now making their way towards Yui and Rosa’s position. She had no reason to doubt another set were coming at them from their own blindspot.

"Combat drones," Rave hissed, “they’re coming at you two!”

Yui and Rosa both began to animate in their corner as they made preparations. But whatever they were planning, they were quickly interrupted by a tube-like noise… a noise Rave thought sounded too close to a grenade or mortar being fired in a movie. The product of said noise slammed into the wall between the parties and stuck there: a peculiar, bronze orb with small hatches lining its circumference. Each revealed a tiny nozzle and vomited a thin, green mist with such speed as to engulf the entire party in the span of seconds.

No one declared that it was poison, but each had known it: they were all human and they faced some Praxis agent armed to the teeth. The bio-toxins would do whatever they wanted with these unprepared humanoids--be it paralysis or ****, temporary or permanent--and they had to hope it did not include some suite of degenerative bacteria or other lab-engineered horrors. Praxis had a reputation for fighting mages… and poison was perhaps the easiest way to kill a will-worker who waved their arms about and inhaled to speak incantations.

Rave thought to flee to the next pillar, to risk being shot again, if only to escape the poison's grasp, but its speed outpaced her. The efficacy was felt as her eyes watered and her skin burned; she held her breath, if only to spare her lungs the agony she felt on her flesh. Her arms grew sluggish...

... for about seven seconds. The teenager blinked in surprise as the agony suddenly melted away. All seemed equally surprised... except for Tricia. The blonde genius continued to tap fervently into her arm’s console as sweeping waves of a dull, azure light rapidly pulsed out to cover her and her allies. She gave them all a knowing smile, but said nothing.

An impressed whistle echoed through the barrier. “Area neutralization of Agent Green-932… that’d be pretty impressive… at least, for the uninitiated.”

Green…? Green… Violet?! “Holy shit… the Violet. The ‘Steel Ones’ or whatever… was you assholes?!”

Tricia gave Rave a curious glance that slowly widened into realization.

“Well, here I thought the blonde was the clever one! I promise we’ll talk it all out… over the autopsy table.”