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Prologue to an Arbiter's Rage
♦ Koa ♦
♦ Koa ♦
City towers materialized around me like flies to freshly dropped overripe shrimp. They burrowed down from the sky; their interiors briefly visible from the briefly entwined dimensions. As the fully registered from my frame of perspective, the skyline behind them filled with blues was ripped away by, twisting the clouds billowing upward to replace cerulean blues completely craggy overcast. As the disparate vista and ground connected, people appeared like raindrops splashing down. All of them were minding their own business, not overly concerned about my presence even as auras of color and confused light washed over them.
For a brief moment, everything red-shifted, streaks of crimson shooting into the sky before turning maroon and then settling down in something that wasn't a candy land fetish of LSD
I could only smile at the spectacle. It was evidence of my technical might. Even if I had been cribbing from numerous designs found on the Medium, it took superior thought to distill thousands of cultural developments and media along with the sciences to make something capable of FTL travel between the known worlds. Said device bobbed at my feet, a shiny orb pinking as its metallic surface cooled inside my tank of Ink that was my Express-O-Respawn Anchor.
The Warp-V-Tex took advantage of the Anchor's ability to teleport and made it non-directional through coordinates systems.
As the kaleidoscope filtered away from the edges of every surface around me I took a breath, testing the air. It smelled odd. Like fruit that was about to expire, and yet might just be still edible. Bad but almost good enough where you might risk it.
Cevanti, one of the few places in the known universe that had a working spaceport, and a huge population. Also a tourist trap for technophiles, despite it being a dying world.
And here I was, risking it in a place that was supposedly suffering from the legendary 'unmade'. If nothing else, there would be no other place where I could find valid targets for testing the latest in Kuddlefish technology.
Stepping off the platform of my anchor, I started tapping my wrist, I brought up the screen glowing orange screen of my Omnitool. A few swipes then called a targeting reticule which immediately highlighted my Anchor the Warp-V-Tex that was bobbing in the ink funnel.
"Separate, and digitized all matter, please Siren."
"Processing," a simulated voice replied and within a moment, hexagon covered it in an orange glow before the entire structure. After it started turning white, the whole thing started flaking away. Simultaneously, a storage bar appeared in front of me, increasing the percentage as more and more of the Anchor was absorbed. It shivered to stop at 63%, then a loud ZAP, and at once the light dispersed in a way my experience told me it shouldn't.
My throat hitched, fear spiked. "Carp. Carp! Nononononononononon...!"
My fingers sliced across my Omnitool pulling up data. Only for red ERRORs to flash across against the orange. "Siren, what the hook?"
"Error" Siren echoed in a dull monotone. "Data lost. Exotic particle accumulation resulted in fragmentation. Suspected cause due to wave harmonics in the FTL high energy deflection system."
I blinked and pulled up the visual of the data storage. "Please tell me it was a continuous piece that was stored?"
"Affirmative, 62% of the data is uncorrupted and whole." She replied. I nearly slumped with relief. Okay... I can fix that. With a deep breath, I reached out with my hand and touched the screen, and put in stasis. It would take me a week or longer to resolve probably unless I found a downed starship or something. How lucky would that be? That only happens in stories and bad fanfiction.
I thumped my chest once, a wave of pressure passing into my lungs with a hollow thunk, took a breath, and let it out in a sigh. Worry leaving me. "I can do this. I'll be the best supporter Cevanti has ever seen." I can rebuild it from scratch. This time, I will make sure to build it better!
With a nod, I took a step forward, turning to face the city.
Time to find someone to support and have adventures.
♦ Kao ♦
A few hours later, I was sitting on the ledge of an abandoned building looking out across the city, enjoying the view twenty stories up. The sun was starting to set, the sky a brilliant shade of purple and pink. I was leaning on the concrete, one leg crossed over the other, my toes resting on the edge of the roof. The wind was cool, the air crisp and fresh, brushing through my fins and tentacles. Mama would probably be freaking out seeing me up here, even though she knew I could technically survive the fall.
Ink is pretty useful at times.
Though the people below would appreciate it. Too many even this time of day were milling about, unassuming to my presence as their would-be-savior. No one seemed to need my brand of help beyond a guy with a leaky faucet. An easy fix, all things concerned. Still, I would have thought that with the Seige of Markov having been so recent, there would be more to do. Heck, I had only seen a few job postings for hunting the unmade.
This place was just too ideal, save for a few shady folks wanting to make some coin.
Who didn't want to make coin? I certainly did. Who wouldn't? But you have to be honest about it.
I had gone through the street vendors careful to pick the ones who had honest salvage to sell but nothing seemed to meet my requirements that I could use to fix my anchor. A few of the more dubious ones were will promise me the moon but I knew their kind. I had learned long ago that if you want anything, don't look at the price tag. Look at how much they were willing to haggle and the sound of desperation in the voice. Bunch of hagfish.
And not because of their haggling skills. Though some of them were definitely up there in skills. Well beyond me anyways.
So I had made my way to the top floor of the tallest building in the area to decompress and figure out what to do next. It was fun getting up here. A few shots of ink had me climbing the building like it was a race track. Totally and hilariously fun. Now I felt like the queen of the world, or at like my little skyscraper of it. Sure there were taller buildings but how many of them had an Inkling as woomy as me?
None. So hah!
The breeze was making me feel a bit sleepy. I yawned and stretched, then looked down at the closest street. Bit run down but not so bad that I would be worried. It was a nice day, soon-to-be night. And with the nightlife often came black market traders who had more to score and more varied wares. I had coin enough that I could probably afford the prices. But if not I might be able to help them in other ways that they might offer me discounts.
And discounts were the bread and butter of getting what you need when one was a thrifty engineer.
With a flick and a swipe along my right arm, and a burst of orange hexagons, my Spot-U-Splat Charged Rifle shimmered into place in my hands along with its tank on my back. The weight of my ink sloshy in it a comfort. I twisted a dial next to the trigger and turned up the pressure. A slight beep let me know that it had reached the proper charge.
I flung myself off the roof.
The wind howled along the length of my ear-like fins as I took aim. In the air, my view of the street was clear, when I pulled the trigger on my rifle it whipped and kicked like a whale, punching me straight in the shoulder. If I hadn't already been falling I would have been knocked on my butt. Instead, I started to tumble. It didn't matter much at the moment as I allowed myself to transform. My body becoming more aero and fluid dynamic in the span of only a blink.
When I hit the ink-soaked asphalt, instead of splatting, I flowed into it.
I never understood how it was possible given how water-based fluids worked. I really should have splatted but whatever psionic ability that allowed me to transform into living ink also gave me the ability to survive falling to my doom provided it was ink on ink impact. And then turn a thin film of ink into a varitable seal of liquid that was deep beyond compare and yet still just as thin.
Woosh! Bubble rippled around me. Sounds outside of it muting. Pinking with air being pressed out of my domain. Everywhere it was white but some out shifting to pink, then to purpose and back again. My pearlescent ink was beautiful.
My world was ink. Reality was bent by my ink. The reality was ink, and it was deep as an ocean and yet only a thin film. Understanding this was simply instinct. One that came to my people, supposedly, from a time when the first Turf Wars were less competition and more violent slaughter. For me though it felt like the freshest freedom an Inkling could hopeful. Unfortunately, my little puddle hardly accounted for an arena.
When I made the transition back to the 'kid' form as everyone called it, the world righted and began to make sense again to my humanoid sensibilities. Or as my daddy called it, 'My less than insane standards.'
I looked around at the alleyway I had fallen into, looking for anything useful. There wasn't much to see besides a few broken crates and a few trash bags that were too full to fit through the doorways of the buildings. I scanned the area, looking for anything that might be helpful.
"Wha ye doo'ing har?" A hateful voice slurred. "Yeh trying to ge in too?"
"Huh?" I asked in a rather dim tone, before turning towards the source of my confusion.
"Ah, yer a sphy? Mun shaid thar sphies evawhere"
It was coming from the direction of the main road. A broad, heavy-set man with a large squarish face was walking towards the alley, his eyes wide and his mouth open. Around his mouth, a silvery liquid leaked. Possibly something that he was drunk off of. It would explain his speech impairment and the odd mutation from standard human appearance. Specifically, there were vaguely black and blue lines running through his skin and an odd glow in his eyes. "Ya gonna die!" he shouted, his voice slurring even more.
As he walked, I noticed exactly what he was wearing. Vaguely black, mottled with gray and brown detritus, a hood and a tie... Robes? But they were fuzzy and thread bear, with a white down-facing C...? Black robes and a badly drawn... is that supposed to be an omega? Is he trying to be a walking cliche conspiracy theorist? I mean I've seen some odd things on the Medium. Rule 34 is just one, but this looked like the worst of the worst when it came to cosplay. Low effort yet his dull brain believed he had 'dun good'.
"That's not very fresh," I quip. I'm half tempted to blast him. A little ink never hurt anyone. At least then he'd be cleaner.
"What're ya dooin' in da alley?!" He bellowed.
"Looking for someone who sells specialty, items" I say trying to keep my voice level. This guy sounds like he tried to chug a portal potion. It's not a very pretty thing to see if someone survives.
"Nuh uh. Ya ain't lookin' fer no thing. I canna tell. I've seen a lot of yer kind in here. Yer all the same. What its ye squiddies say? Splat. Ye, gonna splat ya! All fer Darkshy." That last word was completely contorted to the point where I couldn't understand what exactly he was saying. Is someone dark and shy? Is he trying to impress someone for a date?!
The guy raised a hand and pointed right at me. Then he slunk off to the side of the alley's mouth and grabbed something off of one of the crates. It was long, rusted red, and L-shaped. Then almost without warning he charged, raising... the Tire iron(?) above his head and bringing it down.
Definitely not fresh.
I took to my squid form again splashing into the ocean of ink sliding backward so he couldn't even hit me through the paper-thin film, before popping up again, firing my charged rifle. In a flash of pearlescent white-pink ink, we're both thrown away from each other as my chest throbs with the pain of Sir Newton's third law.
Screaming as he went, the man flew backward, rolling butt over head, his body covered in ink. Ha. Nice!
He groaned as he rolled over onto his stomach. I could barely hear him muttering to himself. Something along the lines of, "Shot ma in tha face ye bith!"
I couldn't help but laugh as I stood. "Not only are you not fresh, but you're completely on the hook aren't you?"
He growled and tried to get up only to trip on his own shoelaces and splatted face first in the ink once more. It didn't take him long to find his feet again though. I resecured the Spot-U-Splat, bracing it against my shoulder along with steadying my stance, and took aim. One breath out, I squeezed the trigger.
POP!
Like a liquid cannon, a wave of pearlescent blasted him into a stupor against a wall. Even with properly a stance, I nearly buckled over backward as my feet slid from the force. My shoulder wanting to unhinge before finally, I claimed victory of remaining upright.
Newton, what did I do to you deserve this? I sighed. Note to self, add inertial dampners.
My fingers ghosted over my arm once more, pulling my equipment status. No damage. Good. "Siren, call Emergency Services and let them know I've been accosted by a man with blue and black glowing veins."
"Right aw-"
The world cracked sideways, and the heavy gravity of this world came calling my name.
Pain made itself aware to me in the most intimate of ways as my head snapped down and sideways before I kissed dry asphalt. Said asphalt also decided that it was a good idea to dig in against my arms, legs, and back. My vision clouded but that didn't stop the darkening alley from suddenly being cast in stark relief of electricity coursing through a familiar tire iron. One that I had dismissed earlier.
The man holding it looked manic with pearlescent fluid dripping off of him and the flickering light zapping around him, causing gouts of steam to flow from his robes, crusting it with dried ink. His grin is vicious and hungry to dish out more pain as he stepped toward me.
"I told ya, ye'd die. Ye didjint believe meh. Na one belehs ol 'dum' Jon. I'll show dem like I'm g'nna show ye. Lesh see how ye like splatten!"
My fingers slide from under me and my toes do the same. I push but nothing moves. Trying again brings on a new wave of agony ripping from the spot where my spine met my shoulders. It was at this moment that I realized I that I've forgotten how to get off the ground. My body feels like it's made of a soggy jelly donut. I can only watch him step closer, and another... and...?
His next step came more distant than the last. Was he moonwalking?
This scallop who got the drop of me is showing off by dancing?
Several seconds passed by as slowly but surely he was now further away. Point of fact everything around me was looking smaller and more distant yet somehow larger? Had someone dropped a badly molded fishbowl around me? I try and reach out but-ow! Nevermind.
With that little of a prelude, he seemed to pause to look around. The manic grin becomes a tad bit more thoughtful and then morphs into a dim frown.
That's when I noticed he was sinking and had been for a while.
What the hook? What in the reef is happening?
"Fook is goin ong?" He hissed. Then he looked down and went pale. All at once, the slow motion of change took off faster than before and he was gone.
I was so busy being trying to figure out what was going on, it was only afterward that I realized the why far too late.
She was green... or rather her outfit was. A dress specifically that was adorable looking really, with little frills on the bottom. Somehow it made the breastplate hooked around her chest look good.
Throughout it all, the greens seemed to shift, churn and whirl into ribbons that shimmered to other tones before flowing back through one another in a mesmerizing vista of color. Whoever designed it was a genius of fashion. It was accentuated though with how everything around her seemed to hum... or actually no, there was some sort of vibrating blur around her. It made her seem larger than life.
Regardless of that, she was small, maybe a bit taller than me. Her skin though was a pale peach. I think mama called it caucasian once? She wore a cracked visor and had blond hair that was struggling to reach beyond the back of her neck. On her right breastplate, there was an Emblem of a white V with a swooping background.
She was all the way at the other end of the alleyway. Just far enough where I couldn't make out who she was, but in a blur, she managed to cross the distance in a fraction of a second. Only it wasn't turbotastic fast, no it was... like she stretched? Her whole body spanning the entire distance before her back end realized it was being left behind.
When she finally came together she was standing above where the man had been. She muttered something and spat. Her entire form suddenly frizzed like some sort of graphical artifact from a bad connection. As she were a living digital signal.
I tried to stand but my shoulder wasn't having it, nor did my lungs as an involuntary yelp gave me away.
Not more than a breath later, she quirked her head, the corner of her eye capturing me in a glance... her eyes traced me, taking in first my rifle, then my omnitool, then me. "Shit" She muttered rudely. Suddenly, like a green cloud given the ability to move on its own, she looming over me. Then she slowly kneeled and strong arms scooped under me to help me up.
The world became a blur, and then the maw darkness itself engulfed me.
♦ Koa ♦
I woke to the smell of someone letting all the magic smoke out of the box. The kind that once you let out, meant it stops working. Which also meant more work for me to get it working again. Surprisingly I felt like I'd be up to that. I don't know why considering I'm pretty sure I had just been clobbered over the head by a magically electrified tire iron... but it was a good I was willing to take
Said plasticky smoke was accompanied by a diligent ticking of a clock.
Had I left something charging?
I opened my eyes and blearily looked around. What greeted me was a room with a bed, a dresser, and a closet. It was all made of sterile-looking steel. Only a single large beam of light came through a window that was set into one wall. It seemed barely enough for the room let alone the small succulent plant that stood within it. I could hear grumbling noises just beyond an ajar door. Next to it on the far wall, hung what looked like a school uniform, similar to the one I wore only more... archaic? Along with a backpack with the word written 'Missy Byron, if lost return to 413 Brighton Way, Brockton Bay'. Never heard of a Brockton Bay. Maybe another one of the worlds out there? Or one of those rare travelers?
"Of course they're both burnt out. Why wouldn't they be? How the hell am I going to replace them?" A voice growled to themselves. They were the words that both consumers and technicians would know and hate. Especially those experienced in the art of dealing with 'disposable' technology. That voice was coming from the same ajar door as before.
One thing stood to the fact though, it was a small room and the ceiling was low. Hardly big enough for one person, let alone with me hogging space.
I sat up and rubbed at my face and neck.
There was an ache of a distant injury like one that was days or a week gone. It didn't feel like time had passed significantly, some sort of healing device? Those were expensive especially if you didn't make them yourself.
Maybe what the voice was complaining about was that they used their healing devices on me? And... crab if they burnt out because of me. Still best be sure about my situation. Confirm first that I'm safe and I have my tools.
A quick check of my arm found the Omnitool was still intact. I ran through several apps that I had configured for it and it looked good. I lucked out. It would have been really bad if it had been damaged. But my gun hadn't be returned to its storage.
Slowly I stood and cleared my throat loudly. "I take I have this Missy Byron to thank for not being shell bait?"
There was a crash of metals and the rolling sound of some sort of saucer against the floor along with some extremely muffled cursing. The door was pushed open and the same blonde girl with a green color-shifting mask appeared behind it. She was wearing a black shirt, a white apron, and a pair of pants. Her hair was tied back in two pigtails and there was a frustrated-looking grease smudge on her cheek. She looked like she should be in secondary school, but instead, she was looking down at me like she was a teacher. "You are..." She trailed off as she took in my appearance. "Well, you look alright." She waltzed over, took an even closer look, lifting up my tentacle sending tingling sensations through it.
I giggled. "I feel all right, thank you. I'm Koa by the way." I say, not sure exactly what's going on.
She quirks her head again towards the backpack. "Missy you've already saw." She admits. "And well, at least I didn't waste a regenerator-" So she had used one on me? Yep, definitely owe her for sure. "-for nothing. So-" Her entire body seemingly pixelates, spreads apart, and slams back together. Her voice becoming oddly hollow.
"Not again," she mutters. Before her whole body reforms in a swirl of glowing pixels like something out of the weirder parts of Nos'talgia. What the hook? That shouldn't really be possible without some odd applications of how essence works on a personal level.
"What the hook was that?"
That looked like Medium matter. Only it was being expressed in the physical world? The only way I know of to do that is to come back from the medium as a ghost. Only a few people ever come back from the dead. It's common enough where it's uncommon but it's not expected either. Maybe a handful every year but... ghosts, those happen all the time. People are able to pull themselves from the force of the medium but not take their life with it. They usually degrade unless they can bind themselves to a digital signal or a physical one, and after that they become integrated.
Haunted houses were a thing for a reason.
Which was the limit of my knowledge of paranormal studies. I knew enough to be able to store matter there for my Respawn Anchor, Sentry Turret, and Charged Rifle. But not so much to bring back the dead... yet. I felt her pick me up. And she made the world do funny things.
Clearly, she wasn't dead unless she was a really powerful ghost.
"You mean what the fuck?" She corrects, sounding confused.
I wince. "It's rude to cuss like that. And no I said hook because you're supposed to stay off the hook you'll get cooked."
She stared at me. "Like fishing?"
I nod. "Yeah, cause I'm an Inkling. Our euphemisms are related to the ocean. You must be an Outsider if you don't know that."
Her face scrunched. "We'll come back to you being an Inkling later. So I'm a... what was it... an Outsider?" I nod. "I guess that sort of fits. One moment I'm helping move some heavy tinker tech for PRT, Squealer busts through our storage depo, the next woosh. In falling through something that seems like code and data and then ended up in a ditch about two blocks from here with some piece of tinkertech embedded in my stomach.."
I nodded. "Not sure what tinker...tech or a Squealer is," I say the word testing it, "but if it's advanced, unreliable, or makes the laws of physics cry like a big hatchling, then ya, that can get you to the Crossroads. And it sounds like you were briefly in the Medium." Whoever Missy was, she wouldn't be the first nor the last. It felt like I ran into at least one month in Nos'tagia.
"Medium?"
How to best explain it... ah. "It's a pseudo afterlife, digital communications grid, and place you can visit if you have the right connections."
She looked at me like she was trying to figure out who I was and how I could be talking like this. "Okay..." She trailed off and looked around. "So, you're an inkling, what's that mean? Can all inklings create a tech or just you? You seem to know more than Burger Joe down the street."
"That's a loaded question, can we sit?" I ask, nodding towards the couch. She walked over and sat down, crossing her legs and leaning back against the arm. I followed suit and sat. "I'm guessing you are from a place called earth?"
"Earth Bet." She said with a wry tone.
Bet... "As it beta?"
"It's Hebrew but it has a similar conna..." She trailed as if looking for the correct word.
"Connotations?" I bubbled.
"Yeah, that."
"Okay. If your world is second, then you're familiar with the first or third?"
She nodded. "Yeah. Multiple Earths similar history."
"Right. There are tons of people from the Earths. Same with Inklings and Octolings. Myth and history have it, we survived the great human war that wiped themselves out. Inklings evolved from squids and Octolings from-"
"Octopuses?" She finished.
"Fresh catch you are," I note, appraisingly.
"Why do you look human?"
I smiled at her. "Do we?"
My body melts, in some cases sucking into me, other times elongating, all together forming into a squid. The transition was fast and sudden and the world seemed to change with it. I'm careful though to make sure to keep my ink on the inside. I rocked my head, tentacles waving at her, and gurgled, "We look human because it's chumming and yer stuff was available. Or if you believe the tribe's myth, because your blood-soaked the oceans and we made it ours."
I allowed the change to snap back, and it was only then that I noticed that not only were we further apart the couch was a lot bigger.
"Shuck me sideways and call me clammy," I said poking the couch. "That's like uberfresh!"
"Fresh?" She squeaked. "Can all you do that...?"
I nod. "Yup, dead useful for Turf Wars." Then I add grumpily, "Not that I've ever been in one."
"Two entire species of Changers? PRT is gonna flip."
I shake my head, tentacle wiggles shimming with it in confusion. "PRT?
"Parahuman Response Team." She said slowly. "I'm a part of the Wards program."
Not sure I'm getting the context but I can swim this current. "Then I'm guessing this," I wave to the space between us, "Is normal for humans from your world?"
She shook her head, replying, "Nope only parahumans can do this. And each of us is different."
I think I get it. "So this tinkertech is made by Parahumans?"
Her eyes go wide as saucers and she nods. "Yeah, I need to find a Tinker so they can send me home, and maybe get this thing out of me?"
"Thing?" She seems to blush a bit, pulls her apron aside lifts her shirt up almost to enough to be impolite but then I see what the problem is. Just partially into where her rib cage starts is a circle of metal made of a dozen or so jagged squares and rectangles, all encircling a deep blue lens. Inside it I could see fractal-like circuitry that was running through it and then out to the rest of her body, around her ribs up... it looked fused to the body.
I whistled short calamari in surprise. I caught myself wanting to reach out and touch it.
"Confirmed. Searching," came the cool voice of my AI assistant. Lines of code suddenly blinking across my arm's interface along withou
Please tell me it's not a hyperbolic reality shunt... because if it is, I'm both the luckiest and unluckiest inkling alive.
"It's a hyperbolic reality shunt." Siren replies promptly. "A device used to project a piece of the Medium into the real world, in order to allow broadcast on a stellar distance. It's also not compatible with biological life normally. It's typically used for larger ships and fleets to stay connected while faster than light speeds."
I groan. Knew it.
"So what's that mean? I'm going to die?" For someone discussing her potential demise, she doesn't sound that concerned.
I shake my head. "It should be impossible to even attach you in the first place. Medium exposure outside the medium is like trying to mix oil and water. Without an emulsifier, it should be..." I glanced down at the couch again. "What does your Parahuman ability do."
She tilts her head slightly. "Bends space-time to my every whim." She quips.
"And how does that affect your body?"
She shrugs. "It doesn't. My manton limit prevents me from being affected by my power just like any living thing?"
"Manton limit?" I ask.
"Dr. Manton discovered it. Most parahumans have things that protect themselves and others from their power." She said knowingly.
"I'll have to remember that," I say thoughtfully. "But you're saying you can only use your power non-living things?"
"Yep." She says.
I nod. "Like a couch."
"Exactly." She says with a wry grin.
I run the numbers. Orange hard light flashing as a keyboard against my fingers. Space-time manipulation isn't unique, but on this level, it wasn't common. I'd say frightfully rare even. But something like that would explain why she could somehow keep a reality shunt attached to her body like that. Normally they had to be specially installed so that they could even interact with the physical world.
"I think your powers are acting as an interface between the Medium and the Shunt, keeping it in this reality. You must have flown right through a factory while it was being tested, not quite in the medium and just before you landed in Cevanti."
She shrugs. "I guess. It was a bit of a blur."
I look back up at her. "I'm guessing your powers aren't as fresh as they used to be?"
She shakes her head. "No, my range is all shot to hell and-" Her body explodes, again, digital light flashing across the room and the sound of groaning echoing everywhere multiple times before, she slams back together again. "Ugh. That happens."
Huh.
It makes sense. The shunt is trying to transmit Medium access across Cenvanti, her powers are probably what is feeding it the power to do that... so, lower range but not enough to completely disable her powers. If it had, it would have plopped off by now.
"So what's the verdict Doc?" She asks breaking me from a hundred and one thoughts.
I bite my lip, then nod to myself. "If I were anyone else, you'd chum shucked up the ink sac. But I'm not just anyone else. Know where we can some decent salvage?"
Her face lit up and that was all I needed to know about my chances of finding resources. Not just for her, but for myself.
"Yeah, I know a place."
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