15-14 Watchers On High (I) (Patreon)

Syndicates.

Deniable Guilder assets. Cancers of the city. Eaters of the FATELESS… Hells, call ‘em whatever you want, just know that unless the war ends, they’re here to stay.

Now, if you’ve been living here for any amount of time, you might have heard something about the “Accords.” Now, I won’t get into the boring poli-shit aspects of the whole thing, but what you mainly need to understand is that once upon a time, when Jaus was still kicking and dream had wick left to burn, he got all the great powers together for a little chat so Voidwatch wouldn’t take the nipple away.

You see, things weren’t going well in paradise. Broken though the gods might have been, all the fighting that took place before wasn’t just going to go away. I mean, it makes sense: just because you stop worshipping whatever bullshit gods you used to doesn’t change the fact that you murdered someone’s mom or boy or girl or nu-dog.

Anyway, at Ao they established certain guidelines for all parties to uphold or our cousins in the highest dark might just cut our aid. Once again, most of the ethicality you’re seeing from the Tiers is enforced by a dealer-joyfiend relationship between them and the voiders. If the terrestrial Guilds had their way, ninety percent of us would be snuffed and replaced by a continual supply of mass-cloned labor.

Anyway, one of the most important details that was agreed upon is the enforcement of limited human rights. Basically means the Guilds can't just go around butchering FATELESS themselves or engaging in unjustified conflict. The consequences for doing so are embargo, followed by fines, followed by the loss of taxable percentages from their Sovereignties.

The whole thing is supposed to be enforced by us, monitored by Voidwatch, and verified by the Agnosi, and in theory, it was supposed to shackle the constant bloodshed between the Guilds–ah, I guess it kind of did.

Problem is that the Guilds weren’t stupid either, and it didn’t take long for them to start establishing some “unaffiliated” organizations to cause havoc within adversarial districts or cause a spike in death on their behalf.

Frankly, the Syndicates are more a feature than a flaw in our current system. They’re technically unassociated with the Tiers, they can kill as many FATED as they want with the only risk being their own extermination–something no one really minds–and, more often than not, they can be directed to destabilize rival taxable districts without directly involving the Guilds themselves.

So, this is how an ecosystem develops. Want, obstacle, convoluted reach-around solution, and all the horrible vines that sprout out from the sheer shittiness that follows.

You can be bitter about it. Or you can understand your place in this nasty little jungle of ours and maybe even turn a profit out of burning these cancers.

After all, with the Syndicates come their own problems, and if there’s any lesson to be taken from what I just you, it’s that opportunity comes when you can solve a problem few others can…

-Quail Tavers, School of the Warrens

15-14

Watchers On High (I)

+My name is Magger “The Skintaker” Illona, and you’re tuned into the Ghoulpounder Thoughtcast.+

Somehow, Avo felt the rapidity of Chambers’ blinks without even needing to turn. The inconvenient period of his resurrection opened a seeping wound of confusion in his thoughtstuff. “Ghoul…pounder? Cas, are getting into some of that–”

The sound of Draus’ arm unfolding into a projectile launcher again followed, and the gift of speech was suddenly lost to Chambers.

A phantasmal logo played a sequence detailing a boot shattering a ghoul’s skull upon the descent. An etheric window opened from the perspective of the Skintaker as he charged toward a horde of screeching ghouls with a chainsaw in hand.

The scene paused. The phantoms loaded the visage of the Skintaker himself. Standing a bit under seven feet, the eponymous protagonist of the vicarity held himself more like a performer than a battle-hardened soldier. Despite the stretches of flayed ghoul skin adorning his flesh, tears revealed gold inlays decorating the man’s exposed chrome, and a quick scry told Avo the Skintaker’s scale-lined trenchcoat was a luxury commodity from the Tiers. Twin bloodshot eyes peered out from behind a mangled sheet of flesh once attached to the face of a ghoul.

This half-strand had a theme, and Avo wasn’t sure if he liked it.

[Oh, I guess it’s not okay when people mutilate ghouls, huh?] Abrel sneered. [Feeling sympathetic toward your poor brothers?]

Avo clicked his fangs together. +No. Dying is what they’re for. More bothered by his…theatricality.+

“Say hello to Magger Illona,” Cas said, gesturing at the stocky hologram of the skin-draped figure. “Former Syndicate enforcer and current vicarity star. Real folk hero to the FATELESS and trash media for the Tiersfolk as well. He’s going to be our chief communications asset.”

Draus narrowed her eyes at the figure and frowned. “How the hells hasn’t he been shot by someone yet? Don’t think you’d last long runnin’ around the city lookin’ like that.”

“Security,” Cas explained. “The guy hires squires and Necros to secure the perimeter of his ‘shows’ before he arrives. Currently, he hosts a thoughtcast and an active vicarity distribution stream in which he stages attacks and rescues by killing ghouls he deliberately releases into FATELESS communes and shanties before they can kill too many people.”

Chambers stared on, trying to assemble what he missed while he was dead from contextual clues. “What? Why’s that guy wearing ghoul skin? What did I miss.” A string of ghosts threaded out from Kae and into his mind, dissolving his confusion and changing his expression to that of a snort. “Oh. He’s one of those guys.”

“Oh, yeah. Real half-strand of a swindler.” Immediately thereafter, Cas willed his phantoms to simulate the viewership metrics for Magger’s thoughtcast and vicaries. One billion downloads for his latest vicarity. Three hundred million average spectators for his thoughtcasts. “He’s also a reasonably popular indie folk hero with reliable viewership numbers.”

“Going to use him to convert his followers?” Avo asked.

Cas shook his head.“Not exactly. Currently, the best thing about his show is that it’s low heat. No Guilder or Syndicate attention. Pure ‘variety trash’ content. From here we can make a prototype of his shows. If we can compromise him and make slight alterations to his material, we can use him as a clandestine broadcasting service as well as a recruitment officer. And the best part he doesn’t even need to know.”

Avo directed a spray of perception over Chambers and wondered if his newfound assistant would perform better in non-nulling circumstances. The limitations inflicted by the Conflagration still needed to be surpassed, but the half-strand would serve for the present.

Cas continued on. “Now, you’re used to diving so I don’t need to explain decentralization to you and all the other training wheel stuff. However, you want cults to be as organic as possible and self-developing is preferable. Obvious changes in behavior will be noticed by a trawling Guilder Necro eventually, so things stay natural and quiet. You also want them to propagate their own offshoots so you can take advantage of future developments. It’s… not so different from a memetic contagion when the day is done.”

“Interesting,” Avo said. He considered the Skintaker again, but a twinge of doubt remained. Circumspect though the man was to the major players in the city, Avo couldn’t see how some media snuff merchant could pivot toward what they needed.

Not until Cas tuned his phantoms and materialized the next visual.

Hovering overhead, a small logo appeared designed with the aesthetics of a homunculus eating its way out from inside a ghoul with frequency blades clenched akimbo in tiny, balled fists. Beneath its body shone the following words in deep red: “For the Unborn.”

“Those are some nice mem-graphics, consang,” Chambers said. “You take commissions?”

“I used to,” Cas said absently as he continued to adjust the details. “Learned how to make ‘em good and fast for myself while I was on tour.”

“On tour?” Chambers asked. “You were in a band?”

The Columner snorted. “Yeah. Real gutter rocker I was. It was more of a family tradition than anything though.” Then, his accretion quivered as if its folds were recoiling from outcroppings of turbulence and the faint peeled from his features.

[I know that look,] Corner whispered. [Yeah. I see that in the mirror sometimes. Someone bled you bad, consang. Someone took something from you that will never come back. We’re never gonna be whole again. Never gonna be whole again…]

The emotional resonance that seeped out from the template infused Avo with a mute despair. He remembered a sister that never was, of them, climbing rusted pipes as a child, of them, surviving together as squires, and finally of her returning to him as a failed run as pieces in a blood-soaked box.

There are no new stories in New Vultun. The actors are different and the costumes change, but big stories ride the same rails going around and around forever.

Surfacing from the vicarious malaise, Avo mastered himself and focused on the topic at hand once more. Considerations accelerated through Avo’s mind as his legion of templates manifested in a flash of sputtering flame. He needed broad insight into what Cas was presenting. There was an aspect of theatricality that was beyond his nature–a thing that could only correspond to a human touch.

[It’s not a bad incubator for gauging interest, but it’s going to be damned inflexible,] Benhata said, applying his experience toward breaking Cas’ conspiracy. [Ori-Thaum never had too much trouble culling cults at the stem. What protects–and betrays–cells is behavior. If the broader mem-data stays the same, there’s likely nothing going on, but the more changes that take place, the harder things are to find. Sometime down the line, this thing’s going to bloat and a Sleeper will find there way in. Things usually come apart after that.]

Corner didn’t think that was all so bad. [Things always come apart in the ned. Yeah. The Ori might crack your little party. Start more. Start many. Make them all varied and different. And be specific about their hates. No Syndicates. One in particular. Use them like you’re empowering your FATELESS. Give the ones with cause means to rip shit up and let them take their own path. Cut one down, culture another one up. You know how this game is played. Decentralize. Be everywhere. Be the plague.]

[Fallwalker’s right,] Abrel said. [Your Columner consang has the expertise, but we have deeper capabilities. You should use this Skintaker half-strand as a draft for what works and what doesn’t and then start planting your own seeds there as well. We can do better than seeding more vengeful Fallwalkers everywhere. We can build our own structures. Fuse them to the Guilds without noticing.]

Gradually, the voices of his templates lessened, and the subminds took hold. [Half measures. There is an obvious opportunity that isn’t being seized. Skintaker is just a start. There is going to be a vacancy of power soon. We will unmake the Three-Fingers. Other Syndicates will rise in absence. Will be our gutter war to engineer. Subvert the winner. Do it again. Again. Again.]

[Yes. Again. Until we infest the Warrens. Until the support structure is gone. The Guilders want their exploitation. Want their instruments. Why can’t we provide? Why can’t we be conductors to phantom wars?]

The path of his desire grew ever clearer.

Cas was being enthusiastic, but he was playing to familiar patterns. His experience was invaluable, but Avo possessed subversive capabilities a scope beyond. There needed to be wed in practice, concept, and execution.

“Can we use Skintaker to start our own Syndicate as a cover,” Avo said. “Expand the concept. Cement him as a usable pillar and access point to a Guild?”

A staggered silence followed. A chitter sang out from his Echoheads and he felt Draus staring at him with her head tilted.

“Whoa, hold on there, consang, I just got out of a Syndicate, are you putting me back in.” The swallow from Chambers was audible. “I–uh, I’m not saying you’re like him or anything, but this feels pretty Mirrorhead to me.”

“Not going to be controlling Syndicate. Just shaping them. Manipulating them. Making sure that they’re–”

“All ours,” Cas finished with a grimace. “Look, I know what you’re trying to do–Ori-Thaum has tried it before, but these things come apart. There’s too much chaos for everything to go as planned and manipulations on this scale have too many consistent patterns. Trust me, it’s been tried, and it’s gone nowhere.”

[He’s right about that,] Behata said. [They don’t have your mind though. Or the George Washington. It might be worth it to see if you can get voiders to offer you the stuff needed to create your own stable clones. If you can have that and also figure out how to burn fixed templates into their empty shells without the Conflagration carrying over…]

Abrel whistled. [Now there’s a nasty fucking idea. You can mod them up a million other ways too. Make your own little rotlick army alongside your subversives. Except not shit.]

Excitement tingled inside Avo alongside annoyance. With each thought the possibilities expanded, but so did the requirements and options presented to him. He was slowly coming to understand that an overload of choice delivered a discomfort all its own.

“We’ll start with proof of concept,” Avo said. “See what effect we can get out of Skintaker. Decide how far his use will go afterward. Many things to consider. Chambers.”

The half-strand shot to attention afterward. “Yeah.”

“Going to burn some sessions and mem-data into your mind. Backdoors into Three-Fingers. Steal anything worth knowing. Mem-lock their golems. Mem-lock their leaders. Funnel away their imps. We are going to create a collapse. And we will need the funding afterward.”

“That’ll make a pretty big mess,” Cas muttered.

“Good. Desirable.” Avo cycled through his memories and pinpointed another note of concern. “Showed three women earlier. Who are they?”

Cas didn’t need a reminder. “Survivors from my last ‘experiment.’ Remnants of my old cult. They’ve slotted into their new lives well, but last time I checked in, they’re still game to raise some hell. All of them are on the verge of achieving deeper integrations in their respect sectors. The dealer’s going about to enter the Jadegazer Syndicate, the bouncer just got a sponsor for her circuit, and the manager is due for a promotion up Ashthrone’s Guild ladder soon. It’s a start, but it’ll give us a wide picture of how tensions are across the city.”

“Hm. Useful as well. Good. Very good.” Some of his templates churned inside him, urging him to offer a gesture of camaraderie toward Cas.

[Don’t pat his head with one of your weird tentacle things,] Abrel spat, intercepting Avo’s faux pas just in time.

He adjusted to awkwardly clapping the man on the shoulder. “Very helpful. Good. Good. Teamwork.”

The Columner stared up at the nine-foot-tall monster for a gaping beat before his eyes drifted down to regard the long, clawed digits bouncing from his shoulder.

Abrel groaned. [Not like a nu-dog, motherfucker!]

Inside and out, both template and actual Chambers’ seethed with jealousy. “Fucking, that’s just social media guesswork and shit. I could’ve done that.”

Avo directed three of his Echoheads to pat the members of his cadre as a response. Chambers sputtered in shock that quickly dissolved to disturbingly lustful joy while Kae squealed and back peddled away.

He felt something stick to the appendage he sent toward Draus and grinned as Regular glared at him. “Keep that shit away from me, rotlick.”

Light footsteps sounded from the open hallway outside. Avo reached out with Sanguinity and felt Denton’s person brush through his haemokinetic mists. She strode and sharply exhaled as an Echohead stretched around the corner to give her some “team-building” as well.

Inside Avo’s mind, Corner was hoarse with laughter while Abrel stewed in quiet annoyance. [Avo. Are you doing this just to piss me off.]

+Possibly.+

[You’re going to die painfully at some point, and by Jaus I’m going to enjoy it.]

Her impotence only made his glee grow greater. Shaking off her surprise, Denton painted her typical expressionless facade into place and entered the room with a three-foot-long translucent needle in hand. Flickering lights pulsed at the end of the tip while mercury-hued fog swirled inside the length. A holographic projection forming the words “CAT-A” lined the side of the injectable.

“Nanosuite,” Avo asked, head cocked.

“Yes,” Denton said, sweeping her gaze over Cas. “Is there… something happening here.”

“Teamwork,” Avo said. “Fires to me to do it.”

[I’m gonna laugh!] Abrel snarled.

“Okay,” Denton said, nodding slowly. “If you’re all done talking about the cult for now, I wish to begin preparations for our meeting with Aegis.” She held up with the nanosuite. “Growing the hardware is straightforward, but I will not lie about my other concerns.”

“Like what?”

“Your personality, if I might be honest. We need you to come across as more… stable and reasonable for this interview if we want to achieve optimal results.”

Avo frowned. “Are you saying I’m not–” He stopped talking as he remembered tearing into Glitch and Dice and how he suddenly assaulted Zein.

“No,” Draus said, rubbing salt into his shame, “you really ain’t.”

“Didn’t finish that sentence,” Avo growled.

“We all know what you was gonna say.”

“I mean, this is a relative thing, right?” Chambers chimed, trying to spin the topic. “Avo is pretty stable compared to… uh, most joyfiends. And Mirrorhead.”

“Holy shit,” Draus deadpanned. “Someone give him a FATE Skein right now.”

The patting ceased.

Through the fires of his cognition, a snicker followed. [What’s wrong, Avo? Not feeling the friendship anymore?]

“Give me the injection,” Avo grunted. “Wish to move on to more enjoyable things.”