I'm Sorry, But the King You're Looking For is....

[Tearen Wover]

Drake watched in interest as Miranda connected the tube to her food...processor and dutifully consumed the meal she had set before herself. The smuggler couldn't even fathom what perversion of prosthetics forced her to use such an unpleasant device, but he supposed the more important question was exactly how she had come to be in need of such heavy mechanical augmentation. It was perplexing to Drake to see someone so casual about their prostheses; when Drake had spent a short time sporting a synthetic right arm, it felt almost as though he got more stares that without the blasted piece of farmed protein fibers.

Of course, in the end, he hadn't exactly had a choice of whether to keep it or not. His job as an EMT was pretty abruptly ended when it was discovered that he was using his access to the hospital's clinic to smuggle drugs out onto the streets of Wing City. That job had been his only way of affording the expensive piece of organic hardware, so after he was sacked, it was removed rather forcibly. Turns out that just because someone owns a hospital, they aren't afraid to tear someone's limbs off. Then again, this was Wing City, arguably the most ridiculous place in the entire Multiverse.

Miranda caught Drake's stare with sharp eyes that held a simple, begrudging question. There was not necessarily any aggression behind the gaze, but it was a challenge nonetheless.

What're you looking at?

Drake offered a short sigh and rolled his eyes down to his own food, leaving the woman to her feeding in peace. Honestly, Drake wasn't repulsed by the scene in any fashion...it just increased his interest in Miranda's story. But it would have to wait for another time. When she tried to break the ice by asking if anyone had summoned anything, Drake simply uttered a harsh chuckle.

"Uhah...yeah. I'm not a Prime." he muttered, poking at the remains of his steak with no particular reason. This elicited a few surprised stares, which Drake decided to take as a compliment. Other than that, however, he didn't really have anything to offer to this conversation.

[Demetri Malius]

Demetri's frown was covered by his facecloth by the woman who had to drink and eat from some kind of mechanism. He felt rather fascinated by the device, and wondered what had happened to cause such damage to her. Her question was valid, however, and she was right to be suspicious of him. She seemed to possibly know something, but if he wanted answers, he was going to have to gain their trust. Nothing he wasn't used to.

"I was heading this way in search of the man I mentioned, and I happened to spot you guys from afar, and saw how you defeated that dragon. I did not know whether or not you would attack, but it was possible that you were heading this castle because of the koopa. I decided to hitch a ride. No harm done."

She then mentioned something about accidentally summoning things in the omniverse. He had summoned Iris, but not accidentally.

"I don't recall doing such a thing, though I figure it can be done with a delicate mind."

After he spoke, he realized that she might have done so, and wondered if his remark might offend her. However, it had already been said, nothing could be done about it. He then listened to the others responses, and then gave a second glance as Drake announced that he wasn't a prime. That was surprising, but understandable. Demetri can tell he was as powerful as some primes, but he didn't give of the same type of power primes did.

At this point, Miranda seemed to be the leader of the group. Zack and Drake seemed more casual and laid back, and Colonel more serious, like Miranda. Demetri stole another glance at his makeshift dataverse device. He received a new message from Nealaphh, who's secondaries seemed to have retrieved IRIS. That was good news. He also read that Drake was with the institute. How interesting, he didn't mention anything about it, even though it seemed that he knew. Perhaps he didn't want to announce his affiliation, Demetri took to it to do the same. He then finished answering Miranda's question.

"If you wish, I will accompany you to pursue the bandits you mentioned, I can hold my own."

He kept his arms crossed as he spoke, continuing to observe the group. It seemed the it was mostly Miranda that held suspicion against him, but at least if anything went the wrong way, Drake would have it back, or so he hoped.

[Miranda Frost]

After those few questions, the room fell silent again to the awkward silence that had preceded it. So much for that question. Now that she thought of it, using Omnilinium took time and concentration. It could only mean one thing. Her journal was planted on her, but for it to arrive in this plane of existence, it had to be summoned by a prime who knew it well, only two fit that bill: November and Mother. One was dead but the other... No. In either case it wasn't well for them to be here.

The book could only have been planted by either -ack or the man that dared to take a shot at Miranda. -ack would have been open over such transaction, but the other had no ties to her whatsoever. None of it.. none of it made any sense. Before her thought process looped back to square one, she changed topic.

"When you were brought here, did it seem.. abrupt? The timing could not have been worse for me. It was just yesterday I was making plans to... well.. that's for another time.", She asked, quickly finishing her soup and sucking dry her canteen to wash out her "Mouth".

She had plans alright. Plans of murder and justice. Through the sign of ten thousand fists, she would have shown the cities her true might. The Colliseum monarchy would have become the dust beneath her boots. For this to not happen, that she would never get her chance to change that world, it was nearly maddening. If anything she had surprised herself how well she was handling it.

[i]'It simply hasn't kid yourself kiddo, you just gotta sink in! Come on.. let me show you..[i], her brothers voice rang in her mind, reminding her of the time she tried her hand at swordsmanship. It was.. embarrassing to say the least. She was so clumsy with a blade she could have hurt herself. November was her only encouragement. Though swordsmanship was a family tradition, November urged her to find something that felt right with her. No weapons felt right in her hands but her hands themselves. Only unarmed did she really excel. The weaponry skills would come later, but none held a lantern light to her fists.

She chuckled and reached up at her eye patch and released her face from it, slipping the patch within her pocket. Her eye was at full operational capacity and more. It was similar to a regular eye if one could over look the fact that it was black with a white eight serving in place as her cornea. The eye housed two pupils, each glowing a faint red glow.

Frost brushed her gloved hand hand through her hair, letting it fall over where it had been held down for so long, lightly obscuring her eye. She looked over Drake, observing his multiple injuries and scarring, especially his stump.

"I should let my Doctor have a look at that arm. He really does miraculous work.", she said, her digital tone lightening. It was hard for her to show her emotion in her artificial voice. It was all she could do to let them know she was enjoying their company. Good company was hard to come by and often didn't last long due to the long ailment that humanity will never cure. It was unpredictable and as a result it was best to make best of everything.

"Hmm he never cured my lack of taste.. how was the food?"

[Zack Fair]

Zack leaned back in his seat as they spoke, listening and processing the words. Accidentally summoning things was a pretty scary concept, because he thought of all the things he'd left behind that needed to stay behind. On the other side, though, there was a lot of good that could come to this world from, and a lot of people he wanted to see again. The notion that he could just will them to this land was intriguing, but he wouldn't dare do such a thing before he knew what he was pulling them into.

But it was hard to imagine it being much worse than where he'd come from.

At Miranda's question, the typically cheerful and carefree Ex-SOLDIER notably got a lot quieter. He listened to her reasoning, and noted the logic that she had things to do and plans in her world. It interested him, but he tried not to think of all that happened in his land since he had been gone. That was less amusing, and a lot more depressing.

"Well, I guess it worked out for me. As best it could have," Zack responded as he leaned back a bit in his chair after finishing his beer. "I worked for a company that was..." He paused briefly, wondering the best way to describe his former employers and supposed friends. "...not the best bunch. I had a lot of things I wanted to do, and people that needed to be taken care of. But none of that really mattered, because I'd already taken my last breath in that world regardless of what Omni said."

Zack let that sink in. He wasn't quite comfortable speaking the direct truth yet. He'd been gunned down by a small army. Not just any small army, but his own army. It wouldn't be hard to read between the lines on that one, so he left it at that.

He couldn't help but think of the others now. Cloud had been left alone in the wasteland of Midgar, supposedly with the Buster Sword, despite the weapon now hanging from his back. Aerith was alone in the Mako city, watched and monitored by ShinRa. People like Cissnei had stuck their necks out to help him. What would become of them?

It hurt to think about it, but the important thing was accepting that there was nothing he could do. He was dead, and there was no returning to that world. The fact that he could summon them here was also scary to him, because he didn't know the repercussions of it in his own world and what trouble it could cause.

He shook his head and continued. "Basically, I'm not totally sure this isn't heaven," Zack summarized his comments, but then looked at the same boiling lava cauldron that Drake had eyed. "Or hell."

He pushed his chair back from the table and stood up, stretching a bit. His head hurt and it was all over things he couldn't do a damn thing about. That wasn't healthy, so he needed to let it go. Deciding to just sleep it off, he instinctively touched the Buster Sword and then gave a small wave.

"I'm going to turn in, get a little bit of sleep," Zack simply said. "Good night, everyone."

And with that, the Ex-SOLDIER departed from the dining area.

[Tearen Wover]

Miranda's line of questioning was definitely unique. Of course, most of it still applied to Primes and their ability to summon things, but Drake did have an answer about the whole summoning business. As a secondary, he had actually sort of been able to feel himself being formed, as if his consciousness had been pulled into the Omniverse before his body. Of course, this might have just been Jeltz's way of summoning stuff, but Drake had found the entire experience to be much akin to waking up after a night of heavy drinking. Not that he was going to share any of this stuff. Not because he had any specific reason, either. Drake just didn't feel like it. The smuggler guzzled down the remainder of his water and briefly took his hat off to scratch at his sweaty scalp.

When Miranda took off her eyepatch, Drake glanced at the uh...really fucking intense optical prosthetic she had in her left eye. Good god. What even was up with that thing. It kind of made it hard to look her in the face. This sentiment changed when she casually mentioned being able to 'fix' Drake's right arm. His mouth drew into a thin line. He knew that Miranda only meant well. People only ever did when they offered to 'fix' Drake's lack of a right torso appendage. They couldn't possibly know the kind of world that Drake came from; where people casually murdered in the streets, resurrected the next day, leveled an entire block of housing and then went on a drinking binge. Drake refused to be a part of that zero-consequence society. Whatever. Drake just offered Miranda a wave of gratitude and a dismissive grin.

"Nahh, 'salright. Food was pretty good." he said in a mutter that, perhaps, betrayed more discomfort than he normally liked to display. The situation was just becoming a little too awkward for Drake, so he excused himself wordlessly and followed Zack back into the bedding area. There, he shed his outer layer of clothing, as he went about grooming himself as best one could in the waterless Ashen Plains. He spritzed some aerosol deodorant under his pits and combed his hair out before lifting his shirt over his head and slinking between the sheets of some random bed. If one was staring, they would be rewarded with an unhindered view of the extent of Drake's gruesome burn scars; they covered nearly the entirety of the right side of his upper body, and a significant portion of skin. In the middle of this field of mottled skin hung the stump of Drake's right shoulder, which apparently still had the capacity for some motion as it twitched and nudged itself on occasion as the Smuggler went about his business.

Hopefully he'd be able to speak to Bowser soon and get out of here. Hanging out with a fellow amputee was proving less enjoyable than he'd anticipated...though he wasn't entirely sure why.

[Demetri Malius]

Demetri watched as each each person began to make their way to the barracks, most likely tired and worn from the dragon confrontation he had observed earlier. Demetri finished up his meal, swallowing the last spoonful of the warm broth before dissimulating the utensils he used. He took the time to examine the food on the long table where the others had retrieved their food, but nothing captured his appetite. Everything looked so alien and new, although he could recognize some of the ingredients. In the end, he figured he had his fill and waited for the others to finish. The convenience of omnilium was very satisfying to Demetri. As much of the group left, Demetri thought about sneaking off for the minor mission he received over the dataverse. Then again, Miranda could detect him. It seemed that simply becoming transparent wasn't enough to avoid detection. There was more to it, or so Demetri hoped.

Once the others left the room, Demetri began testing the possibility of suppressing his presence even further. He focused once more, concentrating on his connection with the world. His image faded, just like when he was above the hovercraft outside, but he needed to go further. He felt the floor beneath him, the sounds of his breath, the air hitting against his clothing and skin. He then created a barrier between himself and the world, not allowing anything to interact with his mind or body. His breath was silent, heart smooth and soundless as it pumped his body full of blood and oxygen.

As Demetri's presence completely vanished from all senses, he felt Miranda paused at his sudden disappearance. Her sensing was now no longer enough to detect the rogue informant. Demetri started out, not a sound coming from his body as he slipped past the koopa coming into the room. The turtle-like soldier had a confused face, looking behind him and counting on his fingers as he tried to remember how many people entered the room compared to how many exited it. He repeated his counting numerous times as he didn't understand how they didn't match, but then shrugged it off as just his imagination. He was never good at math anyways.

The smell of moss and stone filled the air as Demetri continued to creep past guards and patrols, making his way to the front gate. He smiled to himself as he felt the satisfaction of his powers, knowing he would be even greater at his trade than before. The Omniverse held so many opportunities and chances for him to rise above his past self, and there was so much more to learn and discover. Demetri also remembered when IRIS told him about the special verses. The Void, Oververse, Underverse, and the dataverse. The Underverse seemed the most mysterious to him. IRIS had told him the history of the verse, but there was hardly any information about it. The one thing everyone knew, however, was that it was dangerous, and that banishment was the only way to get there. It is said that it is possible to come back, but nobody has managed to do so. Perhaps Nealaphh will have more information.

Demetri then passed through the gate into the dark and vast burning world. More koopas were scattered around the outskirt of the building, and it seemed to be a new shift. Demetri quickly traveled to a spot out of sight long enough for him to summon his vehicle. It still took a while to summon, but not as long as last time he did so in the Nexus. Within a few minutes, he was off into the ash covered landscape, the red light of the lava shining on his vehicle and body as he headed to the Nexus. He knew the way now and could easily make it back within due time.

[Albert Wesker]

It was more wearing on his state of mind that he had anticipated, just sitting by and listening in on the conversations of the others. He had nothing to add to anything that was said, and he was just about as far out of the loop as it was possible to be, anyway. He was able to content himself with turning his mind to more personally pressing matters, such as the altogether unexpected and unexplained series of sensations he had been beset with since he had arrived in this..."Omniverse". Netnavis were always prone to experience various levels of stimuli designed to simulate and connect with their operators, but it had been limited to the Net. Even when inhabiting the body of a CopyBot to move about in the real world things were dulled and generally incapable of full function.

The jarring and more than a little unsettling lack of his higher combat functions and abilities would have been easily explained by being stuck in a non-modified CopyBot, which was more than a little difficult to fully conceive of or even imagine. There were very few CopyBots out there with the capacity to maintain continued habitation of and operation by a Netnavi for longer than a few minutes.

Then again...unmodified CopyBots were by their very nature, and by obvious necessity, extremely weak. No stronger than an adult human at most, and without access to Battle Chips or much of their combat abilities. If he really were in a CopyBot, he not only wouldn't have been as bothered as he had been by the oppressive heat of the environment outside the fortress, but his combat functions would be gone entirely. Not to mention...he wouldn't need to breathe at all.

It wasn't quite what one might call "distressing"...but it was most certainly unnerving to wonder about. For one so accustomed to maintaining a very specific methodology and with a strict set of rules of how things worked for him in mind, a change as sudden as the one thrust upon him here and now was extremely unpleasant and jarring, to put it mildly.

What had him more concerned than his distance from familiar surroundings was the overall sense of being left clueless and in the dark. As things stood now, he knew only what that "Omni" character had told him when he woke up here. It had filled in a few gaps that were useful to know, without a doubt, but still left far too many questions. And now here he was, in the middle of a hellish little slice of paradise, on an errand with people he had literally met entirely by coincidence, for reasons he didn't even know, and was in all honesty probably better off trying to track down some kind of information about what in the name of all that was sensible was going on with this place.

When the others began to excuse themselves for the night, Colonel made much the same choice himself. He excused himself from the facade of partaking in the conversation -- not that it had been very involved by anyone in particular -- and of debating whether or not he needed sustenance in the form of food or drink in this place and left to be alone with his thoughts. One subject in particular which had been brought up troubled him greatly: that of accidentally summoning things. If it was possible...the thought of what he might inadvertently summon himself if he didn't keep his thoughts on a tight leash was worrying, to say the least.

He spent no small amount of time running internal diagnostics and looking over his hardware and software, picking apart the flaws and coming up with a list of errors in his databases to attempt and resolve when he had more time on his hands, and took the time to iron out the final kinks in his Screen Divide functionality. As an afterthought, he took a considerable amount of time to put Omnilium to use once again and re-summon his secondary weapon, the Colonel Cannon.

His idle time also brought to mind the thought of whether there was an equivalent to the Net here...and if there was, could he perhaps summon something equivalent to a PET to access it himself? It took several minutes, but as an end result he found out his answer. The simple-looking handheld device, complete with its very own NormalNavi, soon rested in Colonel's hand, 'hatching' from a cocoon of Omnilium as its summoning finished.

It should give him something to do while he waited out the rest of his companions of the moment.

[Zack Fair]

Having decided he wasn't quite as sleepy as he'd originally thought, Zack stepped into what held the closest resemblance to a bathroom. He approached the sink so that he could wash his face, but upon turning the faucet the only thing that poured out was a thick, condensed stream of magma. Zack blankly stared at the lava, watching it exit the tap and then disappear down the drain. He pondered the physics, the reasoning, and the ridiculousness of what he was witnessing all at once, before slowly reaching back over and turning the handle back to the "off" position.

He continued to gaze blankly at the now empty sink. He wasn't so sure what made him say with confidence that he had been transported to another reality instead of being outright killed. He had every reason and then some to believe this was the afterlife, yet something in his mind told him that it just wasn't. Maybe it was his belief there was no way that hell was this stereotypical.

Shaking his head, he turned around and looked to see that there was a toilet and even a bidet in this bathroom. He crossed his arms as a look of disbelief washed across his face. He wasn't sure which of the two was more absurd, because despite the horror that awaited anyone who would use the bidet, the spikes along the seat of the toilet simply looked too ridiculous. What the hell were they trying to prove?

Still, curiosity overwhelmed him, and he gently eased forward. Slowly and carefully he reached his left hand out and pushed the lever to flush the toilet. As soon as he did the lava poured in from all sides of the bowl, swirling like any normal toilet would before exiting out the bottom. Zack simply watched in amazement at the sight, and a genuine smile came across his face. Awesome.

He shook his head and stepped back, then turned and walked back into the hall. As soon as he did, he looked to the left to see a small, brown, armless creature he'd learned was called a Goomba pop around the corner, a look of panic plastered across it's face.

"Don't use that bathroom!" the Goomba shouted at Zack in a hurry.

Zack simply grinned and balled a fist, pointing back at the bathroom with his thumb. "Is that another way you guys mess with visitors?"

"No!" the Goomba replied, beginning to calm down as he saw that Zack was unharmed. "No, we have a Prime-made water supply under the castle we tap in from, but the underground magma pools keep burning into the pipes. It's a constant maintenance issue."

Zack nodded in somewhat understanding. He'd never equated a lava problem to "maintenance," but the creature's logic was sound.

"And the spikes on the seat?" Zack continued to question.

"Okay, that's to mess with the visitors," the Goomba sheepishly admitted.

Zack put his hands on his hips and let out a loud laugh at that one. It was nice to see that at least humor was universal. Still, he figured that while he had a member of the guard here, he'd do what he could to get this group on the right track.

"So, we're trying to find Bowser," Zack changed the subject, and the Goomba tilted it's head. Or really, it's whole body. "We want to help out with the bandit problem in the area, but were hoping to discuss it with him, first. We've been to a few castles, but we don't know this area very well. Where can we go?"

"Lord Bowser? He's here," the Goomba simply replied. "Just a little down the hall. At least he was awhile ago."

"He is?! Great!" Zack balled a fist in his right hand and smashed it into his own left hand in excitement. Finally. "Can, can we go see him?"

"I-I believe so?" the Goomba answered, not really sure of what Bowser's protocol for guests like this would be. "I guess. Let's go see."

The Goomba turned and waddled down the hall, with Zack following after him. They weaved and maneuvered through several hallways and even climbed a flight of stairs. They stopped just outside a somewhat plain looking door. Zack had expected some sort of grand entrance to a lavish throne room, but apparently Bowser didn't both er to put one in all of the little castles.

"Wait here, I'll let you know," the Goomba said, then pushed cracked door to open it and slipped. It decisively shut behind him.

Zack was left standing in the hallway, tapping his left foot against the ground. He stared at the door and wondered how the Goombas made it around this place if doors were actually shut. Surely there was some sort of method they had to keep things efficient, and he hoped he wouldn't be out here long enough to figure it out.

"Come on in!" the Goomba called from the other side of the door, to his relief.

Zack quickly opened the door and strolled in, only to see that the only other occupants of the door were the Goomba and a yellow shelled Koopa.

"Sorry, but our king is in another castle," the Goomba explained, looking a little embarrassed.

Huh. That could get old fast. Zack shook his head and tried to dismiss the disappointment.

"So where can I find him? This isn't the first castle we've been to and missed him," Zack said, throwing his hands up as he spoke.

"Your best chance to to go to the main fortress and try to get an audience with him," the Koopa remarked, walking over to a table as he talked.

"Where would that be?" Zack asked, watching him walk.

The Koopa grabbed a marker and began to scribble on a map that was lying on the table. He circles a few places and drew a few lines, then walked over to Zack with it.

"Here. Take this map," the Koopa said, handing it to him. Zack took the map and held it up, looking at the rough trail the Koopa had drawn. "That should get your group to the main castle. From there you can take care of the rest."

"Great," Zack said as he looked it over. "And thanks."

"We just hope you can help with the bandits. They're a bit of trouble for us on the outside territory," the Goomba responded.

Zack nodded in understanding, stepping back towards the door. "We'll be heading out in the morning, and we'll see what we can do for you."

The two troopers nodded, and Zack left the room.

He began his walk down the hallway, feeling a little more confident about this. They would be helping those that helped them, and that was always a good feeling. Now all he had to do was get some rest, let the others know the plan, and get on the road.

Pausing, he looked at the multiple hallways branching out before him. First, he had to find his way back to the barracks. Maybe he should have asked for a map of this place, too.