Another crazy day over. Listening as everyone departs to their beds, I pull out my kit, pop the cap, and slide the needle into my arm. I feel a slight smile cross my face as the pain fades and the tension drains away. Bliss really is a hell of a drug. Automatically recentering myself, I pull open the notepad app on my phone. There are things I need to get from Sergei and the lady doc. Things I didn’t know I needed until I needed them, and that is exactly the worst time to realize that.
Apparently my familiarity with injection is not limited to Bliss. I apparently have knowledge of quite a number of deadly poisons. Absently my hand touches an empty spot on my waist where I feel a pouch should be. I first realized this when we found the troll. I would never tell the others about it, but I very nearly killed him after they had worked so hard to save him. I didn’t, though, because it would have cost the doctor her life. And for what? Appeasement of my inexplicable loathing for metas? But still, it’s a hard feeling to shake, letting a militant meta go free to kill again… At least Seamus left me a kill switch for the virus. That made me feel much better. I’d still have liked to be able to track him. Should have planted an RFID chip with the carcerands I didn’t have. But why? Why do I hate him so? He gave us weapons and trade goods. But whenever I looked at his gear in the corner, I felt a surge of hatred and fear. Even seeing him with his chest splayed open and cyberware and bioware messing up his insides… That tugged at a different horror. Hmm. I’ll have to come back to meditate on that later. For now, I’ll add “Carcerands, Naga Venom, Atropine, Cyanide, and RFID tags” to my list. Oh, and a chisel/crowbar. How could I have not had a crowbar?
And in the crane tower, too, I had reached for my belt pouch for something that wasn’t there. And I felt paralyzed with fear because I had forgotten it. I should have had a tranquillizer to make sure the drunk man didn’t do exactly what he did. I didn’t even have restraints, so that when he did wake up, he couldn’t have just gotten up and walked out. Add “Narcoject and Plastic Restraints” to the list. And Laes, too, if I can get my hands on it.
I wonder if I could get one of those portable white noise generators. Those things have tons of uses.
I throw down my phone next to me and close my eyes. I may not be able to sleep much, but at least blissful meditation helps to make up for it. As the bliss begins to kick into full effect, I feel my focus dissolve, and the boundaries between the astral world and the real one begin to blur. The dark room around me goes slightly out of focus and take on a faint hue that makes up the myriad of kaleidoscopic colors. Beyond the shadowy walls, phantasms flicker on the edge of perception. There are things out there I may never understand. Lance can do things with magic I that baffle my astral perception even more than my enhanced physical perception. Those phantoms come to him and bend to his will. But spirits are dangerous things. Cavort with the wrong ones, and you might lose yourself in the chaos of that swiftly tilting sky. Just look at that stranger that ambushed us on our way to the show… There are some forces that ought not be meddled in.
Suddenly, the tranquil shifting is jarred by a jarring light that seems to be coming from right next to me. Bolting upright, I look around, and sure enough, it’s coming from the next room. Not only that, but the phantasms on the periphery seem to have taken on a particularly sinister hue. I don’t know what he’s doing, but he needs to stop now.
I rush into Lance’s room to find him drenched with sweat and suffused with a glow of heat picked up by my thermographic sensors. It almost looked like he had a fever. But that was nothing compared to the astral aura of anticipation and… something else. Sigh. What a buzzkill. I lean over and begin slapping Lance awake.