You hear they managed to find a psion powerful enough to serve as the mouthpiece for the Fountainhead.
You hear they found him half-dead in a Crystal Candy manufactuery, half his crystals plunked out at the root, bleeding and half dead.
And you hear he wouldn't do it.
So it's someone else's job now. Their name is Siren.
[[Demodulate]] You go to the Amberdraught estate. Everyone does. The entire town, or what remains of its citizens who are brave or stupid enough to venture into the velvet dusk of early Summer knowing the Monster still lurks in the spaces between the shadows.
When you arrive you see what the Scientist has been up to.
He has indeed built a radio.
[[Look on.]] There, on the lawn in front of the Fountainhead's exposed Atrium, is a pedistal barely wide enough to stand on. There is an arch constructed of steel and plastic and about four dozen wires in various harsh shades of yellow, blue, red and green. Those wires terminate in painful, deliberate spikes. There are fat, oily looking cords that streach from the base of the dais into the mouth of the Fountainhead. You can make out a control panel behind all of these things - with the sweater-vested Scientist attending it.
From the crowd gathered here, you see the red-cloaked figure of Siren. marching slowly, under their own power, towards the dais. They are accompanied by another psion, blonde, somber. And three others with drawn expressions. They know what's coming.
[[Wait.]]The psion sheds their cloak. Their face is drawn and cool. You have the impression they don't mind too terribly much; the whole business of dying.
They step up and onto the dais. You imagine what happens next before it does.
[[Lance]] One by one, the Scientist drives those terrible and deliberate spikes into Siren's flesh. Skin and muscle part, bone cracks. You see silent tears of pain creep down their cheeks. But resolve renders them unyielding.
Blood drips down their arms, their back, their legs. It pools on the dais like the preclude to a rite. Wounded, they nearly buckle.
But they catch the side of the archway and manage to maintain their balance, grasping it like a preacher at a pulpit.
[[The Machine Powers On]]The fat, oily wires at the base of the dais begin to hum. You see them flex, as if filling with some kind of liquid, and you see the first arc of electriciy pass from one terrible spike, lanced deeply into Siren's spine, to another.
Their knuckles go white. And you think they might, just for an instant, have screamed.
[[And then it wasn't them anymore.]] Siren raises their head and their eyes do not belong to them.
[[Now it's somebody new.]] The electricity passing over their skin in wide arcsreaches a crescendo in a shower of sparks and the smell of ozone is thick in the air.
(css: "font-size: 300%;")[Hello. You.]
It speaks. You cannot help but shudder.
[[Hello.]]The psion's back arches painfully. For a moment the godhead is silent. The body thrashes. A nearby spectator in scarves reaches out to steady them.
In a moment of instantaneous heat, the rover is immolated in a flash of phospherous light.
(css: "font-size: 300%;") [Don't. ]
[[You won't.]] For a while the Godhead is silent. Then it isn't.
(css: "font-size: 300%;") [You have.
To chase it.]
[[Through what?]]
(css: "font-size: 300%;") [The Morgues.]
[[...]](css: "font-size: 300%;") [Chase it. To Me.]
[[How?]](css: "font-size: 300%;") [Corner. It.]
(css: "font-size: 300%;") [I will. Eat it.]
Siren doubles over. They cannot clutch their own arms for the spikes driven into their bones. Their skin is pale and they look wan.
[[Looks like they'll die soon.]]Siren falls to their knees. They scream and it belongs to them. Their eyes light up like lanturns for a beautiful instant. And burn out in their sockets like twin firecrackers.
The body collpases. Siren is dead. They said the words they needed to.
[[Chase the Monster down.]] You report to one of the four morgues.
Or you settle down on the lawn of the Fountainhead.
And wait.
[[Fin]]OOC:
The chase is on!
See you soon!
<3