[attr="class","tristanimg"]

[attr="class","tristanbt1"]CATCH UP.

[attr="class","tristanf2"]He is not much different than Morgana - he is tired. Tristan’s muscles should be aching, burning, but the sheer adrenaline and the thrill from his speed keeps him temporarily oblivious to his body’s condition. He had slowed down a bit to catch Morgana after she had blasted through the wall with her magic. Desperate, the imprisoned Level 1s use their newfound burst of energy to dash straight out into freedom; some of them are still in chains, but that would not compare to the warmth of the sunlight outside. With the way she is clinging to his arm, there is no doubt she really did push herself quite far.

”Take a break - I’ll be back soon,” he says to Morgana as she lets her body slack on the wall. Zooming straight through the doorway, almost disappearing immediately, he charges through the corridor knocking any guard he sees to the ground. The prisoners accompanying them immediately take the opportunity to run away. He doesn’t have much energy left - it feels like holding your breath on the last spurt of a race. If he relents, he is sure to fall down. Tristan makes it back to the outside - the guards have gathered at the door. He knows they aren’t strong - the only threat in this place was the man on the couch inside. The rest of them collating in a group just made his job easier.

They shoot bullets and magic or whatever they have on hand at him, but he is simply too fast. The projectiles approach him in slow-motion as he weaves through them and leaps into the air when the coast is clear. His momentum drastically shifts in the air, like a javelin headed straight for the group of guards. The attacking foot seems to catch fire, but before anyone notices it, it is already planted in the chest of one of the guards at the front. The air combusts, and everyone within a 7-meter radius is knocked out of commission by the ensuing explosion - one that could probably be heard throughout the whole compound. Without stopping, Tristan dashes around to catch any remaining stragglers.

One by one, the Level 1s reveal themselves, fear replaced by impatience - they want to get out of here. Tristan points to the inside of the building, leading them towards Morgana who is resting by the exit hole. Slowly, legs exhausted and limping, he follows them, eventually reaching the room again. ”You good?” the faltering runner asks, “Let’s get out of here.” He reaches a hand out to Morgana, offering his support. Who knows if she realizes he needs it too?

---

Notes:
-1 flow from slowing down
+1 flow from dodging
+1 flow from attacking using SPD
-12 flow from using [expressway to hell]
Morgana

[attr="class","tristancf2"][break]

level

21

stats

POWER 5 f
DEFENSE 11 e
SPEED 78+8 b>a
MAGIC 20+2 d
VITALITY 11 e
WILLPOWER 10 f
LUCK 2 F
[break]

stacks

- flow 24(-11)
- sandevistan 1r
- +2 ranks incoming dmg 1r
[break]

abilities

concrete jungle
turns active 0/2
cooldown 0/2

runner's high
turns active 0/3
cooldown 0/4

expressway to hell
cooldown used

items

- edgedancer's regalia
- blessed sneakers
- slingers

[attr="class","tristanimg"]

[attr="class","tristanbt1"]CATCH UP.

[attr="class","tristanf2"]“Got it!” Tristan shouts back to Morgana, changing his trajectory to end at the tank instead. It would take a bit more time for him to get there considering it is located on the other end of the room. As the magic blasts land on the glass, small bits of it shatter, eliciting an anguished cry from the ringleader. ”NOOO!” Although the cracks are small, they still are somewhat effective. Slowly, some of the blue liquid leaks out of the container and onto the ground, where they instantly vaporize. Time is ticking for Chairman now. That pained scream of his only verified their theory that the tank was indeed his source of power. Now they knew that, it was over.

Just as Morgana was about to say earlier, it is never that easy. An ominous feeling makes Tristan turn towards the man. With both of his arms outstretched, he does the same act he did earlier with the prisoner Morgana freed, except this time it is on a much, much larger scale. All the Level 1s in his vicinity are drained of whatever that blue substance is. Some fall to the ground, coughing, and the more unfortunate ones are clearly dead, their last breaths taken from them forcefully. The unaffected players cower near the walls of the room, praying for their lives. The tank, despite the cracks, fills up rapidly to the brim. It bubbles inside as the level of liquid reaches the cap. Then it stops. Instead, the man himself starts to glow blue, his eyes glowing iridescently. His previously unflattering form is now like an athlete’s. It seems that the power he had absorbed was too much for the container to hold, and he was now acting as the vessel itself. His veins are bulging as if they are about to burst - there’s no way he could hold this for very long - at least Tristan thinks.

It feels like everything goes silent as the man lifts his index finger. It awaits, pointing towards Tristan. With no warning, a beam larger than the previous ones erupts from the fingertip. It is fast. But Tristan is faster than he’s ever been - he sees it coming at him almost in slow-motion. Weaving to the side at just the right angle, he avoids the blast entirely. The wall it hits now demonstrates a giant, ugly hole at the point of contact. With a quick turn and lunge, Tristan sprints head on at the man, who is now readying another beam, this time seemingly at Morgana. Tristan’s calculated instinct instructs him to throw a slinger at the hand. It hits, cutting his hand and more importantly knocking his finger away from its original route. The beam launches, and forms a hole in the ceiling. ”Be careful!” Tristan exclaims as he runs head-on at the man, hoping Morgana is resourceful enough to figure something out. If all the Level 1s died, their mission would be a failure - but if the two of them died, what was the point of completing the task?

---

Notes:
+1 flow from moving
+1 flow from dodging
+1 flow from attacking using SPD
B-rank damage to the man's hand
Morgana

[attr="class","tristancf2"][break]

level

21

stats

POWER 5 f
DEFENSE 11 e
SPEED 78+8 b>a
MAGIC 20+2 d
VITALITY 11 e
WILLPOWER 10 f
LUCK 2 F
[break]

stacks

flow 8(+3)
[break]

abilities

concrete jungle
turns active 0/2
cooldown 0/2

runner's high
turns active 0/3
cooldown 0/4

expressway to hell
cooldown 0/3

items

- edgedancer's regalia
- blessed sneakers
- slingers

[attr="class","tristanimg"]

[attr="class","tristanbt1"]CATCH UP.

[attr="class","tristanf2"]After a slight pause during which his brows are furrowed, the man shouts, ”You don’t work for me!” He is still seated in his throne of sorts. The kneeling players on the sides stay quiet in contrast to that, their spirits already broken. Strangely, though, despite all the level 1s to keep in check, there are no guards to be seen. Was it arrogance or confidence? It seems Morgana’s act did not convince him - maybe part of that was Tristan’s fault. After all, his jacket does glow too vibrantly compared to the dull guards on the outside. There are two choices here, or at least two choices he could think of - continue the sloppy theater performance, or charge in right now. With how it was currently going, he had a good idea of which would be the better option.

”You’re right,” Tristan responds, prompting the man on the chair to lift his hand towards the two of them. A coalescence of blue energy forms at his palm, reminiscent of the color of the liquid in the tank, which now had its volume drained slightly, but enough to be noticeable, from before. By instinct, Tristan grabs Morgana by the waist and throws her upwards, her weightlessness immediately apparent as her feet leave the ground. A beam erupts from the collected energy in the man’s hand, straight towards Tristan. Although it is fast, he is faster. Rolling to the side and recovering immediately, he starts running. As soon as he dodges, a faint colorless glow surrounds him for a split second - his new skill [dance dance revolution] - then disappears. There are no holds barred now.

Should he take the man down? Or should he save the players first? Either choice could lead to a consequential outcome. ”Your call! Chairman or these guys?” he shouts to Morgana, pointing to the Level 1s. The former plan does not sound too difficult - after all, he was just a man in a chair, right? Deciding to hold off from committing to any specific direction until his partner makes a decision, he keeps his distance from Chairman while running across the giant room.

---

Notes:
+1 flow from moving
+1 flow from dodging
[dance dance revolution] activated, increasing the damage of Tristan's next attack by 1 rank
Morgana

[attr="class","tristancf2"][break]

level

21

stats

POWER 5 f
DEFENSE 11 e
SPEED 78+8 b>a
MAGIC 20+2 d
VITALITY 11 e
WILLPOWER 10 f
LUCK 2 F
[break]

stacks

- flow 5(+2)
- dance dance revolution
[break]

abilities

concrete jungle
turns active 0/2
cooldown 0/2

runner's high
turns active 0/3
cooldown 0/4

expressway to hell
cooldown 0/3

items

- edgedancer's regalia
- blessed sneakers
- slingers

[attr="class","tristanimg"]

[attr="class","tristanbt1"]CATCH UP.

[attr="class","tristanf2"]“It is fucked up,” he responds, eyes still trained on the ever-flowing stream of poorly-treated players. Surveying the situation again, the options Morgana had offered seemed solid. If they went for an all-out frontal assault, he is quite certain he can avoid most of the damage directed towards him - he couldn’t say the same for his new friend, though, considering she had come close to having her gut pierced. The other plan is a much safer option. “We’ll go with B,” Tristan says, referring to the undercover strategy.

Making sure there are no guards looking in their direction, Tristan drops and rolls on the ground, waiting for his floating partner to descend as well. ”Those bracers of yours can pass as handcuffs - these idiots won’t know the difference.” Grabbing her arms behind her back firmly but without intent to cause any pain, Tristan escorts Morgana forward. The closer they get to the door, the more stares they receive - a dude in a glowing jacket and a witch must not have been a common sight around here. Still, no one bothers to check up on them. They must have been doing something right.

They get to the building’s door, guarded by two stronger-looking players. “A new one - need to check her in,” he says, after waiting for another parade of enchained Level 1s to pass. Tristan had lied a lot to save his own skin back before the world changed. By no means did that mean that he was a good liar, though. But in an organization as haphazard as this, the chain of control and security probably isn’t anywhere near solid enough to warrant suspicion in the guards of Tristan and Morgana. The rough men share a look with each other, then nod towards the open doorway. Tristan shoves her in with as little force as possible to make it seem realistic enough, following close behind.

---

Notes:
-1 flow from slowing down
Morgana

[attr="class","tristancf2"][break]

level

21

stats

POWER 5 f
DEFENSE 11 e
SPEED 78+8 b>a
MAGIC 20+2 d
VITALITY 11 e
WILLPOWER 10 f
LUCK 2 F
[break]

stacks

flow 5(-1)
[break]

abilities

concrete jungle
turns active 0/2
cooldown 0/2

runner's high
turns active 0/3
cooldown 0/4

expressway to hell
cooldown 0/3

items

- edgedancer's regalia
- blessed sneakers
- slingers

[attr="class","tristanimg"]

[attr="class","tristanbt1"]CATCH UP.

[attr="class","tristanf2"]This mission especially resonated with Tristan. To be more exact, it gave him hope. At this point, he already knows what the system was capable of, and reading his mind and wishes would not be out of the question. Parker - his brother. It had been a long time since he had seen his face. He has no photos to remember him by, but his memory of him, if nothing else, was absolute. Parker’s pure smile at their makeshift dinner table. If he had survived the tutorial, there was a possibility he’d be here at the location of the mission. That was a big if though, considering how many people had died in Tristan’s own tutorial. Plus, it was unlikely a child of Parker’s age would be taken in to a place such as this one. But he had to hope.

He glares at the building. Surrounded by a provisional barricade made of gathered wood and rocks, the gray of its walls remind him of the lifeless cities from before. Most of the windows are dark - probably boarded up. They aren’t covert, though. Guards patrol the perimeter of the lot, as if protecting a treasure trove. It might as well have been one, though, if the prompt in the system was true. After some more observing, he notices something he should not have missed at all: a floating person. It seems she had noticed him at the same time. He approaches her at a pace just slightly faster than a walk.

“Yeah. You’re my party member?” he asks, straight to the point. As she responds and gives a recap of the mission objective, he is slightly amused by her carefree behavior - there are lives at stake here. Surely she could afford to be a bit more cautious. After all, this mission was personally important to him. If they were going to be working together, he needed to know if she was going to be a vulnerability or not. He doesn’t smile back, instead returning a nod with a sober expression.

“Let’s see what we’re dealing with first,” he says in response to her question. Tristan extends his steps into longer strides, making his way closer to the building. The material of his jacket starts to glow a neon gray, matching the background of the Big Apple. He points to one section of the barricade that is less heavily guarded than the others. “There,” he says, leaving the rest to interpretation. It wouldn’t be so difficult for her to follow, he assumes, when she is floating with such ease. He remembers - he has this habit of not giving out his name. Maybe that would not work so well going into a workhouse this densely populated. “Call me T, for now.”

Accelerating even more, he sprints towards the spot in the barricade he had pointed at. Running up the rugged wall as if by second nature, he makes it over to the other side, landing on the ground. His eyes dart around instinctively, scanning for threats. Clear. Good. The actual building itself isn’t too far ahead - but in front of him is an open field, too risky to burst through without getting noticed. There’s only one guard a distance in front. If they could be taken out, they’d have access to the inside.

---

Notes:
+1 flow from movement
+1 flow from running start
+10% to SPD and MAGI from blessed sneakers
Morgana

[attr="class","tristancf2"][break]

level

21

stats

POWER 5 f
DEFENSE 11 e
SPEED 78+8 b>a
MAGIC 20+2 d
VITALITY 11 e
WILLPOWER 10 f
LUCK 2 F
[break]

stacks

flow 0(+2)
[break]

abilities

concrete jungle
turns active 0/2
cooldown 0/2

runner's high
turns active 0/3
cooldown 0/4

expressway to hell

items

- edgedancer's regalia
- blessed sneakers
- slingers

[attr="class","tristanimg"]

[attr="class","tristanbt1"]CATCH UP.

[attr="class","tristanf2"]Perhaps it is time for him to relax as well. The location doesn’t matter much anymore. Maybe a little - he was still too close to the evaporating yet ever-present smell of trash. Walking back closer to where he previously was before the mission had started, but not all the way, he finds a spot to settle down. Tristan can finally do what he had been waiting to do all this time. Letting his body go slack, he plops down straight onto the soft sand. This was the true vacation - he could finally rest, for once. Looking back, it had been fight after fight after fight. He doesn’t know if the situation of the world would get better or worse. In fact, he doesn’t know anything at all - he didn’t know many people before the world changed, and much less now. Any chance like this, to take a break, was a chance to seize.

Looking around, the fighting has died down. There are no more spacecraft in the sky, and the clouds are finally visible again. It is surreal - players have gone back to partying as if nothing ever happened, and those who were abducted now find themselves sitting on the sand disoriented. The displaced speakers are put back in position, either by players with strength-based abilities or telekinetics. Maybe this was a normal occurrence on this beach. Who knows if he’d run into another mission here? However, that thought is put on the back burner, as the only thing on his mind now is relaxation. Laying fully into the sand, printing his silhouette into it, Tristan falls asleep. If only Parker was here too.

---

Notes:
-ALL flow from stopping

[attr="class","tristancf2"][break]

level

12

stats

POWER 5 f
DEFENSE 11 e
SPEED 47+5 c>b
MAGIC 20+2 d
VITALITY 11 e
WILLPOWER 10 f
LUCK 1 F
[break]

stacks

flow 16(-16)
[break]

abilities

concrete jungle
turns active 0/2
cooldown 0/2

runner's high
turns active 0/3
cooldown 2/4

items

- slingers
- blessed sneakers
- clown's balloon