Mask of Humanity

The next morning found Nicolai awake and ready, drinking from the green water bottle to help dispel his sleepiness. The moment the torch flickered to life, casting a pale golden radiance across the room, he was out the door and then moving fluidly down the stairs.

The quicker he could get to Johan, the better.

He wore the Sheltering Glove, and tucked inside of it was his Seed, which extended Soul Sense tendrils to feel around him. The glove was the only Imbued item he intended to actively use as he’d been able to tuck the Seed into it just under his wrist, secured by the gloves fastening, protected from falling and strikes. The Darting Talon rapier hung from his belt.

He also wore all of the jewellery. The Blood Bite and Pegasi rings on his left hand, underneath the glove where the Seed could gain access to them given time, the Searchlight ring on his right, and the Swollen Eye amulet around his neck.

Other than that he wore his typical armour and carried a pair of knives. The Soul Trap hung from his belt, as he intended to try and trade it to Johan in return for something more useful, if he could. Also now attached to his belt was the shimmer poncho’s bag, to hold it if he removed the poncho.

On top of it all he wore the shimmer poncho, hood up, flaps down, but not yet activated.

He’d worked out how the rings and amulet worked before he slept. The Blood Bite had required activation, and once activated it had “bit” into his finger with sharp little spurs, drawing blood which had swiftly dried. He had been unable to work out a way to make it let go, and it seemed to be permanently with him, now. He was a little worried about infection and intended to keep a close eye on it. Now that it was biting him, he just needed his Seed to touch on it and it could be activated just as his Pegasi ring and the Searchlight ring. The Searchlight ring, just as its Examine text said, emanated a pale glow. It hadn’t revealed any secrets in his hideout and he saw little use for it at the current time, but brought it just in case.

The amulet worked a bit differently to the rings. He’d found that it could be charged like some of his other Imbued items, but unlike the others it held the Oma within it for quite some time, draining very slowly.

He’d noticed that if he charged Imbued items at a slow, steady pace, it put little strain on his Seed, and so had taken the time to charge the item. The amulet now held roughly five Oma crystals worth, its capacity. Since charging it he’d felt a faint pressure from it, a prickling where it touched his skin, but he’d yet to feel anything that could be described as a warning.

Arriving at the great door, he unlocked it, tugged the gauzy face-cover from the left side of his hood and clipped it on the right. He activated the poncho and slid through the door, closing and re-locking it behind him. The Gauntlet would be the first test of the poncho.

Nicolai forwent his typical strategy and simply stepped out into the open, his eyes on the balconies to see if the undead up there reacted. They always tended to be a little quicker noticing him than the big skeleton.

The undead continued to shuffle about. Their eyes slid over him. Perhaps they wouldn’t have cared anyway, as he still wore the band, but he suspected it would only prevent the undead attacking him in the mines and prison. Regardless, they showed no reaction which told him the poncho was effective, at least against these undead.

Test concluded. Nicolai stepped to the side, under the balcony and behind the columns. He might be invisible, but that was no reason to take risks. The big skeleton gave no reaction as he passed by and he made it into the exit tunnel without issue.

Emerging into the living quarters he checked around himself, and then turned the poncho off and checked its power. After testing it last night and using it now, it was already down by three percent, and charging it wouldn’t be easy. As he moved, he spread his Soul Sense’s tendrils, checking for signs of life and more specifically, signs of the Chosen, as he jogged through the hallways.

He took a slightly roundabout route, a quick check for Chosen lurking in wait in the area, but found none. After some time, he headed down a longer tunnel, into an area he’d not been in before, following the directions Johan had given the night before. As he drew closer, he re-activated his shimmer poncho and settled it about him.

Nicolai slowed as he stepped out from the tunnel and found himself on a rise looking down into a large open room, ringed with balconies. Rows of seats filled the centre of the room, sloping down towards a large, wide stage at the far side.

This was some kind of theatre. It was cluttered by statues of the People on plinths that emerged from the walls, and well lit by a chandelier above and torches either side of each statue. There was a banging noise coming from somewhere.

From Johan, he knew that there were back entrances onto all of the balcony seating areas above, and also two exits either side of the stage.

In the middle of the wall at the back of the stage, was a metal door. He saw it shake slightly and realised the banging was coming from it. Johan’s hide.

Nicolai ghosted down the aisle between the chairs, his Soul Sense spreading to touch on the balconies, checking for people in hiding, but he found none.

He climbed onto the stage and approached the door, crossing the expanse of the stage. It was wide and open and his skin prickled. His poncho’s invisibility was far from absolute; anyone with the correct means could see him, and the open space made him feel exposed. The door had a handle, but it was unable to turn as someone had cleverly wedged a perfectly sized axe in the space between floor and handle. A simple approach, but it seemed to be working. The door must have a very solid handle. There came an especially loud bang and the whole door rattled. He could see faint bulges in it, from where someone had hit it with something hard on the other side.

Nicolai sent his Seed’s Soul Sense tendrils through the tiny gap beneath the door, and found a man stood on the other side, holding a large hammer, body moving in a way that suggested they were breathing heavily. Nicolai realised he could indeed faintly make out the sound of breathing through the door.

‘Johan,’ he spoke to the door. The noises ceased.

‘Who’s there?’ came Johan’s voice from the other side.

‘It’s me, Nicolai. I’m opening the door. Stand back.’ Nicolai’s leg emerged briefly from the flaps hanging from his poncho. He wound his foot around the axe haft, pulled, and it came free to clatter onto the ground.

The door shook again but didn’t open. Nicolai drew a knife, keeping it hidden in the poncho’s sleeve as he prepared to open the door; a standard precaution. He stepped forward, grasping and twisting the handle with his free hand.

As the door swung open he saw why Johan had been unable to do the same. The handle on the other side had been smashed off, presumably during the man’s attempts to get the door open.

Johan stood there, leaning on the two-handed hammer by his side.

He looked in quite the state. His clothing was ragged and bloodstained, areas visible where cloth had clearly been ripped away, now serving as the bloody bandages that wrapped his body in places.

Johan peered out, frowning, unable to see Nicolai, then he dropped the hammer and stooped to collect a sack from the ground, bulging with whatever he owned, as well as the same longsword he’d held the last time they encountered one another.

‘Let’s go,’ said Nicolai, having already started moving, jogging to the the left where he spied an exit in the wings of the stage they stood upon.

‘Where are you?’ Johan stepped warily out.

‘Here. You can’t see me. Follow my voice,’ Nicolai kept moving. He wanted to be gone immediately, before the Chosen could arrive.

With his tendrils, he felt Johan pause uncertainly before the man hustled after him.

As they headed toward the exit, Nicolai heard the scuff of footsteps and labored breathing, then two men burst out, both holding pistols which they immediately raised, aiming at Johan.

‘Don’t move!’ one of them yelled.

Nicolai slowed down to a fast walk, continuing to move toward them as quick as possible while ensuring he was silent and the poncho worked effectively, turning his head to look around the room. He saw more Chosen arriving through the main entrance, from the other stage exit, and even a few in the balconies. All of them were breathing hard. It looked like they’d been sprinting all the way here, and had only just arrived. Unfortunate timing. Nicolai restrained a sigh as he continued slowly towards the nearest exit, angling towards the wall to pass by the two men in his way.

He hadn’t been fast enough. It was time to cut his losses and leave. His main thoughts now were considering whether he might gain something from this. Glancing back he saw Johan had frozen, weakly raising a hand in an attempt to placate the men aiming guns at him. Nicolai determined that Johan was most likely lost to him, but perhaps Nicolai would be able to utilise his poncho to ambush someone split from the others and steal a gun. Such a minor victory could quickly snowball into much more significant wins, as having a gun in his hands would raise his capabilities by a serious margin, especially coupled with the poncho. However, he had to be always wary of any individuals with advanced sensory augments, or the possibility of a drone sophisticated enough to spot him.

Through his connection to his Seed he began feeding Oma into the Sheltering Glove, charging it and making it ready to activate the shield. Different to the polearm, Oma he sent into the glove felt less desire to immediately transform into the art, instead it collected and was held there by his will, ready for use, though slowly dissipating. The shield was only a thought away.

He heard a faint humming from within the room and a quick glance revealed a bulky drone had arrived, one he immediately identified as modern and relatively high-end. A drone specifically designed to search and scan, to pry out what was hidden.

It was a perfect counter to his poncho and would be able to make him through audio, visual, and temperature analysis, picking up on small signs that he was incapable of hiding with his current capabilities. Its onboard AI would take these details and use them to guess at his exact position, a guess which would be highly accurate.

Not good. He moved faster.

‘Hey! You!’ yelled a voice. ‘The cloaked one! I see you! Don’t move!’

The two men before him were backing up, frowning and aiming warily in his direction, as though they knew roughly where he was. As if, for instance, they were being fed the view from the drone which with its sophisticated cameras and microphones would have spotted the thermal signatures and other signs which the poncho was only able to somewhat hide. He was still quite some distance from them.

Not ideal. A glance at the others revealed that one of the Chosen in the centre was aiming right at him. The drone spun through the air towards Nicolai and stopped just a short distance above him.

‘Deactivate your cloak,’ said the man aiming at him.

What to do? He could try to run, but there was still some distance between him and the men with pistols, a stretch of open ground where he would be in the lines of fire of the vast majority of the Chosen, who were all aiming roughly at him, now. The majority weren’t entirely sure where he was, but if they all started shooting, some of those bullets would hit him.

In general Nicolai held to the view that it was better to fight, and risk dying, than to be captured. As soon as one was tied up, weapons taken, their odds of survival would plummet. But in this case, attempting to run would see a very large number of bullets coming at him, from multiple angles. His odds of survival would be low, too low.

Nicolai found the button on his poncho, pressed it, and his cloak deactivated with a faint hum. There came a muttered oath and gasp from the two men with pistols standing a few metres away from him. Then one of them gestured with his pistol.

‘Open that poncho up, show us what you’re wearing, and keep your hands where we can see ‘em.’

Nicolai gave them both a friendly smile as he moved his hands, slow and calm, reaching for the zip at his front. He unzipped the poncho, freeing himself to move more easily. He then spread it, watched carefully by the two men, and showed what he was wearing. After that he simply let his hands hang by his side, loose and relaxed.

The men’s expressions relaxed slightly as they saw he had no guns, and one of them glanced at the leader, a brief expression of focus appearing on his face, throat flexing.

‘Nice, very nice. First time I’ve seen shimmer tech in this shithole.’ Nicolai turned to face the voice, and saw it had come from the one he’d identified as their leader. An average sized man with blonde hair, light-brown skin, and a big smile who held a pump-action shotgun aimed right at Nicolai as he approached down the aisle between the seating areas, accompanied by the group he’d entered through the main entrance with. The man was quite heavily augmented, arms and legs bulging with artificial muscle. Low-grade but still dangerous.

Nicolai slid a glance at Johan. The man looked resigned, defeated, standing there leaning on his longsword, the pack dumped on the ground. He didn’t seem like he had any intentions to fight, lacking even the energy to lift his hands despite their requests he do so.

The Chosen didn’t seem to mind, as the main group of them found the stairs up to the stage and filtered up. They sensed he was no longer a threat. The eyes they put on Nicolai held more wariness.

Nicolai let out a big sigh and adopted a glum, concerned expression on top of hunching his body slightly, a similar pose as Johan’s. The blonde leader approached him, a sunny grin shining out ahead of the man.

Recognising that they weren’t going to start shooting, that they wanted to talk, he stopped the continual effort of charging and keeping his glove’s shield ready for use. His paranoia would have preferred to keep it ready, but Nicolai knew that if he kept the shield charged overlong it would strain his Seed.

While the man approached, Nicolai marshalled his thoughts, deciding what to do. He had been in situations like this before, many times, and though he would have preferred to avoid it, he wasn’t going to give up. Nicolai would do what he always did.

He would watch, and wait, and give no signs of just how dangerous he was. He would find his moment. He would seize it. He would get out of this.

Because he was Nicolai, and that was what he did.