Play of Shadows

3.08: Fire flowers

Fireworks burst into dazzling flowers one after another. One, two, three, Ann counted. Four, five. Red and gold and green, burning out in a cascade of glitter.

The death of a soul was unexpectedly a festive affair.

As the sky dimmed above them, Ann turned her attention to the woman wearing her face. The resemblance was perfectly uncanny. In appearance and in mannerism, there was nothing to distinguish the avatar from Ann herself.

"Who're you?" Ann asked. The words traveled with some delay, as if she was dialing the sound in long-distance.

Five pairs of eyes fixed on her with unfriendly precision. "That's our line," Vernon said.

The man was not speaking to Ann, but to his companions and the false Ann among them. They likely though her an NPC. Ann did not blame them. The mask and armor alone were enough to put a player on edge, not to mention her dramatic entrance into the scene.

There had been no need for a boat or train to take Ann where she needed to be this time around. Ann set a foot outside the station, and promptly fell through her own shadow down a moonless sky. The transition was so swift fear barely wracked its nails down Ann's spine before she was back onto solid ground.

Ann found her surroundings vaguely familiar. The men and women watching her suspiciously among a crowd of mindless, faceless NPCs were certainly not strangers. She meant to call out to them, but the sight of two small children huddled behind a mountain of plush stayed her tongue.

Then, she was faced with herself, and any thought of revealing her identity was promptly given the boot.

Ann's silence was not taken well. The players grew restless, silently forming a defensive formation. Ann raised her gloved hands in a warding gesture.

"I'm a mod," she said, grimacing at the gritty sound of her own voice. The Darth Vader look really wasn't helping her case.

"A mod?" Frances echoed. His wary expression shifted into one of contemplation, "Did VELES send you in?"

"The seventh pod –" Vernon began. His enthusiasm was swiftly cut short by a quelling look from Lieutenant Arendse.

Ann made a note of the tidbit the man had let slip even as she shook her head. "Support system 006, at your service," she lied smoothly, adding a theatrical little bow.

The players huddled together for a quiet conversation. Ann waited patiently, unconcerned by the final verdict. She was of two minds about rejoining the group. Kellan was her ultimate goal, but she could not leave her teammates behind so easily. Especially after discovering a pod-person in their midst.

Then, there were the soul disks.

In every player lived a flame. A small, burning sun that spun and spun, nestled beneath clothes and skin and bone. The players appeared unaware but Ann saw the soul disks clearly, and knew them for what they were. She thought that she could touch them, if she tried. Pluck them out and extinguish them, like smothering a burning candle.

One person stood out. The woman wearing Ann's face carried a disk of her own, but unlike the other players, hers was a dim, pallid thing. Ann's hands twitched and she had to consciously keep herself still. Something within her urged her forward. Something wanted the woman's soul torn out of her avatar, and it left Ann feeling cold and unmoored herself.

"We are looking for someone," Lieutenant Arendse said.

Ann exhaled, pulling her attention to the present. The urge to accost the stranger who'd donned her face receded, but did not fade entirely.