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The city is always alive at night.  Vivid technocolor streaming along a rainbow spectrum. Vehicles blur in their illumination, the flashes of light from every street corner and tall franchise causing a glittery effect.

This is all seen from behind a glass visor. Dribbles of water from plops of raindrops tear down it, much the way a child cries over a lollipop. As quickly as it falls an increased momentum diverts it. Scattering splashes of water horizontally away from the visual panel. The one thing separating cold calculation from the wild hares of the streets.


The steady and voluminous vibrations of a cycle rip and roar, reverberating bounding echoes as it charges between the larger four wheeled rides to either side. Passing them by with little effort.


It is no different than standing in front of a window, for one who spends so many nights in such a way. Waiting and gazing down at the world below from tens of stories above. Always at night. Always in silence. But never alone.


An inkling pulls the night rider from its solitude, tracing obscure patterns of information through the sponge of iridescent bones. Fragments still stray in fidgeting lag, held for longer than necessary if  only to assist in propelling the bike further along the roadway.


Suddenly there is a scream. Tires squealing against water drenched asphalt when the cycle is turned sharply and brought to an abrupt halt. Marking a secure arrival. Once disengaged, the short length of body attached to it walks towards the building it is parked in front of.



Not but minutes later there is shudder and expulsion of stature from beneath helmet and coat alike. The perceived destination having been met with the notice of otherworldly siblings.  

Tangles of green tumble freely about hot pink shoulders. Angular with narrow set eyes is a face of poor pallor that tilts and turns from one Rize and to the other Val. Pointing out the fact the rest had yet to arrive would be moot. A waste of breath, really.  

We are home.

Conjunction can be stimulated in the recesses of any mind knowledgeable of the fact that… Suicide is at home anywhere it can be found.

Edited by -Lilium-

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Knock knock.


Knock knock.

. . . .

“... Novi, open the door. “

One beat dragged into five before the door finally slid open to the workshop. Her fingers stilled on the keyboard in front of her, and the workshop fell silent. Unlike the hallway that led to her favorite den, this room was not well lit. Instead, the ambient light of computer screens and various other electronics offered what little illumination broke up the darkness here. She did not turn to the masculine figure in the door. Despite her lack of words, the fact that she stopped working was a sign of respect. He was many decades her junior, but that did not stop her from appreciating the way he thought.

He never pressured her for information about her home, and never seemed uncomfortable in her presence. “It would be good for you to get out. “ A soft, gentle sigh passed her lips and she lead a bit further back in her chair. Idly, the right hand that had been typing shifted away from her keyboard to tap metallic claws against the desk, while her other right hand reached up to idly rub at her still sleep messy hair.

“Good for what, exactly?” Her tone was bored, just barely edging on annoyed. “You need more personal interaction, Novi. You spend so many hours-- “ “Doing my job?” The man sighed and stepped further into the room towards her work station. She didn't move towards or away from the sound, but instead remained staring at the screen. “... You're going to burn yourself out. You can't just... work your way out of your.... “ She allowed him to trail off, unwilling to answer the question he didn't ask.

“Just … we need you, alright? Take a break, you haven't in months. You've certainly earned it. “

The tapping of claws on aged wood continued until finally, the woman pulled herself from her chair. She pulled herself away from the chair before finally turning to him. Of the hundreds of employees that worked here, he was one of the few that had the opportunity to see her face. Deep, blue gray eyes studied him in silence, before she gave a very small nod in agreement. “If it will keep you out of my workshop, and keep you productive then I yield. Leave so I may change. “ The man nodded, unable to hide a very pleased smile as he stepped back into the hallway to give her space.



The elevator ride was uneventful. The talk between them was quiet, but unimportant. Very little they talked about, aside from work, was eventful. However, the idle chatter made the long elevator ride not quite as dull as it could be. As the elevator came to a stop, and the doors slid open the polite chatter that filled the small space ceased.

“Yes ma'am I will get right to it. “

She nodded politely in acknowledgment of him before stepping out of the elevator. She turned only to watch the doors close before making her way further into the room. Her eyes roamed over new sights, but not in wonder. Her eyes fell first on green, then golden hair, before her eyes settled on Rize. There was a polite nod as she came to stand at the back of Valentine's chair. One pair of arms folded in front of her chest and the other just below it. Her dress was plain, in hopes of not drawing attention to herself. Black, tightly fitted slacks and her sheer, black blouse which made the archaic looking necklace at her throat stand out even more with her modern clothing. She wore no makeup, but smelt ever so slightly of a combination of sweet flowers and ozone. 

“It is a … pleasure to get a chance to meet all of you in person. “

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What did it mean to be human?

Eiji found that answer to be incredibly easy. To struggle. To adapt. At a certain point another question had been raised in his mind. By controlling his own evolution, phasing out the weakness of flesh and blood with the cold and perfect efficiency of technology, could he still be called human? Fuck it. He would leave that shit to philosophers, all he needed to know was that he is a genius. None in any world has matched his ingenuity in the field of cybernetics, and he had been to many. Gaia the most prominent, where he had asserted his genius time and again, usually by breaking pencil necked mages over his knee.

Good times.

Now he found himself fiddling with the strange technology of Babel, adapting it to his purposes, and making great use of their resources. Even decided to see what using this magic business was all about. He sat running over the diagnostic scans of the old model nanomachines, they were, much like his old body, preserved as a reminder and as back-ups. It had been an easy procedure to remove them, then replace them with the primal versions. Rarely had he seen such fascinating resources here, they almost outstripped his own back in the day. Almost.

He had gained another boon. ULTIMA cells, it connected all of the Cide to Ilos. Such an intriguing thing, he had removed a few with the nanites, to study and understand. His curiosity was insatiable, and he could profit from the knowledge, enhancing the use of his new found abilities. How such a thing changed one’s body, in this case his brain, in such a fundamental way was worth some study. Honestly he could care less about this Ilos, only that he paid him well for his loyalty. Payment that anyone would be hard-pressed to match or even surpass.

He stood and stretched, the fully prosthetic body moving with perfect fluidity. Of course it did. His was the best in the business. More so now with the use of Primal Alloy. It was an interesting metal, depending on how it was manipulated. Hard or fluid. Possibly both. There was a lot to explore in that area, very much so as an element of weapons technology. He filed the thought away for another time, he was running sometime late, might make Rize a bit sour. Which was good, the kid was too serious, made a good target to tease. Had potential though.

He pulled his black leather jacket, with a fur collar, on. Then his black gloves, taking his time as he did so. Rize might just ignore him at this point, which really meant he wasn't. Eiji knew the fellow couldn't ignore him in truth, his presence was too contrary. He was an anomaly amongst the Cide. Far too individualistic, solitary. Unerringly confident despite all that. Still, this Ilos fellow saw fit to bring him into the fold, amongst their ranks. Why? Eiji might have taken the time to guess, but ye honestly couldn't care. As long as it was made worth his while the fucker could be planning to burn the whole of Valucre to cinders.


The doors to the meeting room opened abruptly. Eiji stepped in as his lit a cigarette, a mild look of disinterest on his face. One could say he was handsome, in the way a street thug could be considered. Had an air of self-importance. Amber eyes looked at those already gathered in the room from behind red tinted sunglasses. He had red hair, too dark to be natural, deep blood red. “‘Sup?” He said in greeting, his voice somehow dirty. Eiji walked into the room, strides unhurried, graceful in a distinctly mechanical and calculating way, yet contained a sense of human unpredictability. An odd and unnerving combination.

There was Valentine, a bit of a weirdo and overly friendly. He thought he might be a bit gay, who knows. Eiji considered him an alright fellow, looked like a trap though. Next he saw Suicide, she was a strange one. Referred to herself as ‘We’, like some type of royalty or some shit. She was pretty cute, if not for the weird look in her eyes. Interesting hair though. Next was Novi, another weird one. Solitary, but not in the same way, where he exuded an air of indifference she seemed to shelter herself away. Another cutie too. Lastly his gaze fell of Rize, the unofficial leader of this group of weirdos. There was a sly smile on his lips, as if he was privy to a joke only he and Rize would know, much to the latter’s displeasure. He took a seat, kicking his feet up on the table, arms folded behind his head.

Edited by Alexei

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This was a waste of his godsdamned time. Never mind the sheer idiocy of gathering all of the VII in one convenient location—the fact that most of the crew could barely stand one another seemed to be a point past belaboring. Deacon pauses at the entrance no less than three times, stalking footsteps leading him away from Babel tower each time in a huff of disdain. It proved harder and harder to keep the edge off his nerves—there were better things to do with his time. This team, if it must be called that, was a farce...the very idea of unity was a figment of man’s imagination. You were born alone, you suffered alone and you, sure as shit, died alone. Fingertips ran over gaunt aristocratic features beneath the mop of silver hair. Deacon decided he must have been homely, to begin with, why else would every face he plastered upon his skull be oozing with this much charm? It had to tie into his subconscious...probably? After staring at his reflection in the glass window pane for an achingly long moment, Deacon pressed his forehead against the cool surface. 


They liked to act tough. All of them did. They liked to say cool things, make grand entrances, tout their sociopathy...and for what? To impress each other? To impress themselves? 








It was to impress, Daddy.  Ilos. The head honcho. The founder of the Feast. The big chief. The grand poobah. The prez. King of the Castle. Ruler of the roost. The mayor of ‘I told you so’ town. The Big cheese. The boss. Head of the House. 


They all served him, in some way. Deacon just did it under the nose of the most powerful entity in Alterion. He was allowed to be a little stressed. The trappings of a Radical were indiscernible from that of any Daius executive. A tailored black business suit fit his slender frame, well enough. When he had business at Babel Inc, he preferred wearing the face of the Black Deacon. It was easier to fit into the narrative that his Rebel persona led him to their door more than maintaining the face he wore whilst wandering the halls of Daius Tower. A mask was a mask, though and Genticide had worn so many for so long he wondered if he even remembered what his own face looked like. The only aspect that remained constant was the scar, that thin white mass of marred flesh was how he saw himself now...and honestly, it suited him just fine. 


Stepping through the door well after the last of them had settled in, Genticide remained at the back resting against the wall. It was easier to appear bored and detached than annoyed and put-out. Besides, Omni had the petulant child market cornered. Arms folded across his chest, as the disenchanted gaze moved towards the center of the room. If they expected him to make some clever quip upon entry, they were sorely mistaken. A bored sigh, is all that passed his lips as Genticide waited for the ordeal to come to a swift fucking conclusion.


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F,%20Cide.png?m=1513624085uck fuck fuck fuck FUCK! When all of their accomplishments were weighed in culmination and the legacy of Cide VII in underworlds throughout Valucre heard of their exploits from the lips of the most wise, the greatest feat of them all would easily be Omnicide's resistance to kill everyone. Something that had been an issue for him from the moment he was taken in was that anything with life, meaning, and purpose was a means to an end to Babel Corporation's nefarious ambassador. While Ilos was immortal and everlasting, everything else in existence had a due date, even himself— and in the end it boiled down to why wait? When he ripped the throat out of other Primal transfusion candidates in the genesis of his rebirth that was his thoughts, and just as much held true when his eyes scoured the lifelike ink of their primogenitor. Something in him wanted to believe it was blood of all colors and variations, it satisfied him to know that death had given rise to something to aesthetically gratifying. 

Yet in all of the peace that he felt in the coldness of the lobby, it all came crashing down when his antithetical accomplice Valentine appeared.

What a mess. From the moment the metaphysical horns roared with raw, simple, and pure sounds, somehow the urge to blink across the room and shove one of his many grenades down Valentine's throat to silence him for good didn't manifest. In the past, when Cide VII endured a tumultuous shift in leadership and power, Omnicide lacked self control. Many PHOBIA had gotten on uneven standings with the terror of death and when it happened nothing good game of it— for anyone. Yet somehow when his peer queued his introduction as per usual, he remained steadfast and silent...initially

“Hiya, Rize!” Valentine gawked incessantly “Tough crowd as usual, no big.”

“Gotta say, though. Wish I could use it that well when you aren’t around. Imagine blaring the,” he scowled and abused the furniture with his feet “What was that movie? Tip of my tongue. Hold on.”


“Who has time for movies with shitty sequels...” Rize murmured angrily, his thin eyebrow flinching to the realization that Valentine could hear him clear and well. “Atleast if you're going to admire movies do yourself justice. Ichi The Killer and Rambo are way better movies! ” 

He exclaimed just in-time to turn about and see his partner's luxurious curls. While Valentine portrayed a false sense of shyness, Rize took the opportunity to give some appreciation, “Wilheim Richard Wagner huh...I guess I'll give him more of a listen later. But don't bug me or I'll really kill you got it?” he announced, the single achromatic strand of hair dancing majestically with a single flick of his head. 

But all of that was just the tip of the ice berg. 

Suicide arrived thereafter and was as mysterious and enigmatic as they were meant to be. While Rize was the only member of Cide VII with any real authoritative information, he refused to pry. That's usually how his hunger to kill exploded. When she arrived and offered her greetings Omnicide nodded his head gracefully, allowing Suicide though beautiful and distracting by means of her physical attraction alone, to restore balance to the antechamber that Valentine had insisted on interrupting. While Rize masked his curiosity of Suicide's physicality behind his condescending glare at Valentine, a silence that wouldn't last very long, another arrived. 

“W-what?” he stumbled aloud, watching as Novi entered the chambers. She wasn't slated to be there...initially he'd received word that her sect wasn't allowing her clearance to leave for whatever administrative reasons...yet there she was. A lie? Maybe. But being there meant that she took Babel Corporation seriously as she should, and when she took up her position behind Valentine's chair, she finally spoke. 

“It is a…pleasure to get a chance to meet all of you in person.” 

“Liar,” Rize teased in hopes that it would loosen her up to her peers. With a coy, childish smile appearing just after her words, his arms linked behind his back folded across his chest sternly. “But I guess as long as you're here that's a step in the right direction ya'?” 

Somehow Omnicide was becoming better at wearing the mask of leadership when need be. When it came to Cide VII he was certified and well-recognized in his achievements prior to. Several ouroborous cells and underworld units had once been under his control and his debt to The Babel Corporation in many's eyes had long since been fulfilled. Yet purpose was the single bullshit excuse he had to pledge his everlasting loyalty to Ilos. When it was all said and done it was the lackluster principles of pedestrians who strove to live every day for as long as they could that passed down the derelict ideals that he disdained so much. Yet what else was there? Live for absolutely nothing? It was sometime during it all that he realized he had a purpose of his own, to rob the lives of those who clung to them desperately by showing them the truth to self-fulfillment and everlasting peace was in nothingness itself. 

Queue Eiji arrival. 

Handsome? Yeah right. Another walking ginger trope with likely broken mechanisms and an equally shitty disposition that made him downright disposable. The mere right of the doors opening to the red-haired android with a human brain almost made the room blow up. Anyone with even a modicum of knowledge regarding the origins of their generation of Cide knew of the confrontation between Omnicide and Tacicide that led to an unfulfilled conclusion that left more questions than answers. Were he honest, there was no way he couldn't have killed Eiji had he so chose, but something about the entire affair was off. Just as off as his slow amble towards his own seat and his disposition that remained aloof. If anyone here was weird it was Eiji. There were a variety of reasons why but none of them mattered for long. In the few seconds where the 77th Floor could become the 77th Heaven with bodies inbetween another unlikely, but very powerful individual appeared. 

The DeaconGeniticide. Preserved, quiet, bored. The end. Was there more to him? Obviously, but he didn't care nearly enough about anything happening there and that was apparent by even Rize's keen observation - yet it was essential that they all were present. 

And so it began. 

The abundance of light that filled the lobby faded and left only dim outlines of them each in their own right. Their ULTIMA Cells quaked in recognition of one another regardless of their own personal mantras and beliefs, and the painting just behind Rize that moved with a since of organic life slowly crept to a total halt. The little neon light that remained ensnared them in crimson silhouettes before Rize began to speak. The younger, petulant and childish voice they'd heard before became deep and profound. 

“I'll be quick. In this place and all places, all times, we have evolved to finally spread our influence to the fruition of Ilos' demands. All of our preparations have been to reach the climax of this realization.” Rize announced, stepping away from the paint behind him to the table where most were centered around. In the center of the table appeared a 3D low-density vector projection of white lasers netting together in a lattice that mapped away the entire world of Valucre in immaculate detail. Where it then suddenly zoomed to was Tellus Matter, a region of far more importance than any elsewhere that their plan's existence was crucially centered upon. 

With a flick of his right hand he described, “We've relocated from Renovatio to Alterion because of a special resonance, something otherworldly that Ilos detects here. This also gives us the opportunity to assert our authority here much as we have, and will once again do in Renovatio.”

While Omnicide wasn't known for his level-head, when he was able to engage his intelligence and his critical thinking abilities his strategic reasoning became almost unparalleled. The plan to migrate and launch their new individual assignments among the VII was a personal idea of which Ilos, as perceptible and all-knowing as he was, approved of which spoke to the testament of his ideals and their investment in his tactical reasoning. 

 “This means you all have new individual tasks as sent to your personal upload drives, restricted only by your user interface's password and biometrics. The only person who already had this information prior is Genticide due to the nature of his endeavor...”

Another reason for Genticide to have held his ground and disappeared from Babel altogether to do whatever it was he did. Not only was he probably the second most mysterious of all of Cide VII but his incredibly silent, reserved demeanor meant he wasn't all that open to sharing either. No, in-fact the only thing that captivated him was...

Everyone would receive a ping as information was sent to their respective private directories. When that happened, the vibrant crimson shades that engulfed them changed back to the traditional clear light that engulfed them before. 

 “If anyone outside of this room views this information...” Omnicide mumbled almost incoherently, though only just loud enough for everyone to atleast know he was speaking.  “You die. There can be no mistakes, understand?

His punctual ending gave them enough warning. They were obviously free to do whatever they wanted, but the risks were as carefully spoken of as possible. 

 “Any questions so far?


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srvFjRF.png?1The Throne Room, as the CIDE of the past had called it, had a notable lack of windows. The walls were all drapes and finery, old wood and marble as white as new snow. Every inch was sealed by unbroken architecture. The room was perfect in its appearance and perfect in its isolation. Ears pressed to the floor heard nothing, those against the wall may have felt the thrum, the suggestion, of a world outside, but nothing more than a suggestion. Sometimes, on some days, the throne room felt like a prison. There wasn’t space to fit a wire and two cans between here and there; the barren host of the CIDE VII, and the world that was theirs.

It might have been a protectionary measure; perhaps some forgotten CIDE’s paranoia drove them to seal the 77th in sand and stone, primal alloy, radiation shielding, to cradle them from all the troubles that awaited them among the inferior. Perhaps they had thoughts of betrayals and bombs, and insured themselves accordingly against the possibility of apocalypse.

Or maybe the choice was deliberate to hide the view from up on high. A sealed space meant friction; they would drive their minds against one another, instead of having delusions of grandeur. The day was rare when they were together – if on those rare days the CIDE looked down, together, upon others, looked down with all their madness and hatred and inside their churning apathy for the masses, they might have begun to feel a twinge of something. This something – emotion – was danger. It was better to have them think only of themselves. No murderer was ever formed from being self-centered.

Valentine did not dwell too much on too many things of such a nature; life was short, emotions, transient, and if the passage of time was so grueling in its nature then why not expend all our efforts to make it free and easy instead? These thoughts occupied him as the rest trickled in, one-by-one, but they did not preoccupy him. Whether the cold table that was warming beneath him was placed there deliberately, wasn’t his concern. It was a comfortable perch for a comfortable ass, from which he could greet the rest of the CIDE – his “friends,” though they might’ve not said so (Val threw a gentle glare at his ol’ pal Rize’s back) – and questions of greater beings trying their luck playing the group like pieces…

“Yeah, yeah,” he said towards Rize’s back, “Still waiting on your répondez s'il vous plait to my group movie night. I’d like a no, at least, if you’re too busy killing things to give the time of day to me.” He crossed his arms and turned away with a playful hmph, then, producing a brush from some unknowable dimension, began grooming himself. “I could always play something else, you know. What do you like? And don’t say silence,” he snorted. “How about –“

We are home.” The opening of the doors had been lost somewhere in the forty-seventh bar, but the CIDE’s cold voice cut through the music like an off-note. Her footsteps were deliberately arrhythmic, falling to the tune of a different song, perhaps one that only ever played in her head. It certainly wasn’t Wagner, and the firm click of her shoes on the floor made that clear.

“WAAAH! SUUUUE!” Val tumbled off from where he sat on the table, clearing the floor and landing onto his feet with a flourish. “Welcome back! Still rocking the green, I see. Brighter than last time, right? Pretty, but,” he laughed as his new blonde flashed beneath the lights of the chandelier, almost glowing as the light worked its reluctant way off the shimmering strands. He ran his hand through again, for her benefit and mostly his, showing it off. “Well, how do you like it? I’ve moved on past the green thing. Greener pastures await, ya feel?”

Val paused mid-step. “That was bad wording.”

“But you get my drift.” He slung his arm around her and laughed, trailing off as he ran his eyes along the rest of her from his close-up vantage. “I like the shirt, too. Though…” He put a hand up to his chin and squinted down at her chest. “…Huh.”

Data collection incomplete; as he drew his lines and his estimations, circling Sue’s body like a scientist, the elevator ding’ed again behind them.

“You, uh. Were you gonna be Daddy this week?” For the express purpose of contextualizing his statement, his hands crimped up into cups and seem to shape themselves into awaiting a delivery of watermelons from above – no, wait, they’ve turned, held at shoulder height – is he dribbling a basketball? – the hands swing down like guillotines, or clamshells, to end at the middle of his chest again with the vision of fruit. They’ve traced a death sentence. “I mean, I don’t miiiiiiind being Mommy –” Valentine’s voice rose with the extended i, chords contracting until it’s pitched to the timbre of the ideal woman, “— especially with the new hair, that’d work better, no problem. Is that what we’re doing?”

He/she looked up into Sue’s eyes, dead serious, startling red eyes shining with earnest and unfettered desire to sort out his/her confusion. “Is it? Just making sure. Is it? Is that –” Valentine finally caught notice of the figure standing at the table behind his chair. It was a face that he hadn’t seen before; but that alone was enough to pair an unknown face with an unknown name. “Is that Nova!?”


But by now Tracy and General had arrived, and the question came out in a choked whisper as he slapped a hand to his mouth. It was not unheard, but it was unacknowledged as Rize began his briefing. The important things which brought them out of their respective shells, even Nova, even Tracy; the important things which demanded utter attention and obedience beyond doubt. Their purpose – their mission. Why they lived, and why they would die; things of this nature left Rize’s mouth.

“I’ll be quick…”


But Rize did not say anything that sparked Valentine’s interest. Viricide was Babel’s magnum opus, or at least one of many; he spent more time at base than even Nova might have. He knew the flow of things, if not the fact of them: how things worked and the process of things were etched into his memory. Talk of work made him feel a dull boy. He could guess what would eventually arrive in his terminal, as well as the others’; and soon he’d be alone all again.

Well, the moment could be savored. Valentine put his head in his arms and yawned among the few in the world he might call friends.

“Any questions?”


But now he was speechless, because Valentine only had answers.

“Well sure Rize, I’ve got the one.” His voice had pitched back to normal, light, airy, and boyish. “That all?”

Edited by Mag

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A purely indemnified gaze toggles between two familiar faces. Hesitantly trailing from one to the other, then pausing briefly if only to adhere with the system she is confined to. Analyzing gesture and stature for those that hold to their pristinely individual mannerisms.

The chosen replications first come from Valentine, the member of Cide VII Sue receives most communication from. Bubbling quite deeply, is a brew for something admonished as profound in the expenditure of energy used to create it.

Where they are initially amused by his intricate movements, they soon become detached. Multiple synapses between various constructs attempt to overlap one another in static fashion.


Why does he mock us?

What is he doing?

What does he mean?

Val is twisted and deformed…

We are neither, we are one, we are Suicide.

That hair is long and golden...and s/he's growing breasts again.

He wants to be us, doesn't he?

He touched us again, he keeps touching us.

Kill it.

Kill it.

Kill all of it.


Novicide’s appearance beckons silence from the masses. And With a gentle rap of her knuckles against her temple, the moment of dysfunctional calamity ceases to exist. Valentine's questionable motives having set off the swarm inside on more than one occasion.

Rather than engage, Sue takes part in finding a seat for herself. Allowing Valentine to play the grand hostess as best acclimates him to the rest of CIDE VII as they enter. Now, brought to abrupt attention, they-Suicide-zone in on Rize when he begins his eloquent speech. 


Disgusting...too disgusting. We cannot bear it.


Thin apertures crease and curl to conduct twisted indentations beneath pallid cheeks. Suicide produces a rigid smile in order to present a homely approach to the inevitable task of her station.

“No questions, only statements. Those in voluntary notion of a diagnostic systems check, meet with us before taking leave. Those whom deem it unnecessary, will receive a diagnostic and overhaul on the next transmission. Novicide is the present and only exclusion.”

Tangible words are woven with taciturn renunciation. Chaotic permutations of disgust tangle against task ridden indices coded for transcription. Yes Ilos, we shall see it done.


No...don't accept them.

Don't look in them.

Singular deformations disgust us.



Those who accept receive a nanite that enters through the eye, ear, or nose.  The assessment setting is a specialized multi-layered decahedron not unlike that of a virus capsule, but obviously much more advanced. Each environment is created by the individual in it. Each holds a version of Suicide that better suits that individual's mind and/or needs, in order to obtain the diagnostic in as comfortable a manner as is applicable. Each individual manages the setting and version of Suicide with the permission of myself, with the understanding that she is not currently malevolent and would not advance past the diagnostic unless allowed. So for those who feel like taking advantage of sharing information or memories can do so. Any of those that attempt to breach the capsule, will feel a shock as the nanite disintegrates and the connection between them and Suicide is immediately severed. Suicide will response to each of them as necessary, via myself in the next few post(s).


The wanton need for gradient disembowelment comes from the nature to which Suicide is born. Radiation exuded through the illumination of multi-hued eyes, is the result of control over individualistic disintegration coming undone.



Edited by -Lilium-

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‘..Isn’t lying to the public his job?’

Pewter colored eyes narrowed in confusion at Rize when he teased her, but the confusion flitted away just as quickly as it came when there was another soft ding at the back of the room. Slited pupils swung in the direction to take in pale skin and red hair— she had heard things about him. Mixed, through emails and her own subordinates. Her gaze swung up, down and then back again. He was.. disappointingly small. More electronics than flesh, her nose wrinkled softly when he threw his feet up on the table.

Interest lost.

Not long after, the final ding and the last of their group arrived. White hair and by the looks of it, a poor disposition. As she had with Eiji, her gaze pulled up, down and back up again. She did not want to be here either, but here she was, making an attempt to be involved instead of pouting at the back of the room like some sort of... misunderstood teenager. Eyes narrowed idly, before she caught the shorthand of her name in a voice she had never heard before.

Her gaze snapped to Valentine, just as he slapped his hand back over his mouth. A very subtle, amused smile tugged at her full lips. A slight nod followed in response to his question before Rize caught her attention. She listened politely, her head tilting in confusion when it came to the security of the information. Her teams were always informed of the nature and location of her operations, with how difficult transport for her could be it was a nessicary evil. 

Was he just ignoring protocol?

She looked to Suicide when she spoke, the manner in which she spoke was strange but her presence was not off putting to Novicide. Her figure tensed reflexively at the ‘ system check ‘, only to relax when she learned that she was excluded from this. A soft, relieved sigh left her left. She put up with enough testing as it was, she really didn’t want one more person peeking in on her— even if it was for her health. 

When Sue’s statements concluded, it was time for her to speak up. “ How am I suppose to coordinate with my teams, if I am not allowed to give them information pertaining to what, exactly, I will be doing? I have a medical team for my specific care, they need to be notified if they need to be on standby and at the proper distance away. Same with transportation should I need to make... “ It was obvious by the pause she was looking for the proper word so she could continue, after a second or two she continued “Perpations beforehand. “  There was concern in her tone, but her voice remained steady. 

“.. I haven’t been able to leave without proper clearance in two years, is this the exception?”

Edited by Moth

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So breaking into a monologue is your idea of quick? Eiji thought privately, though his only verbal response was an inarticulate grunt. Honestly he was only here as a formality, with an added dash of curiosity. For the first, and perhaps the last time, they were all gathered in one spot. If there was any time to assassinate the lot of them, well make the attempt, it would be now. Obviously nothing like that would happen, Babel wasn't exactly making any big moves just yet. It would stay that way if the big fish knew what they were doing.

Mostly he ignored the antics of Val. Dude was fuckin’ weird.

Amber eyes glanced about the room, though it was only a passing glance. Most here were youngsters, still wet behind the ears. Probably never had to feel the fear of struggling against forces far stronger than they. Soft. He hated greenhorns. For all their cool demeanors, and detached dispositions it meant little to him. They hadn't earned his respect yet, and only had bought his comradeship. Rize perhaps had a slight bit of respect from Eiji. Though to him he was little more than a barely leashed attack dog. Wholly unsuited to a position of leadership, much less public relations. Ah well, the check was good, and he worked solo.

He gave a wink of mockery to Novi, and seemed to ignore the haughty Genticide.

Something interesting caught his attention, a little curious thing. Suicide no doubt about it. He chuckled, a dirty melodic thing that cut the air hotly. He would let her in, if only to see her reaction. It would be hard not to notice the nanites of his own watched hers, attention focused. Poised. Much of her sensors would be scrambled, purposefully forcing it to focus on where he desired. As if he were playing a game with her. What she would find was an interesting display of technological advancement and engineering.

Her poking around was guided to the brain, what many incorrectly assumed was the last bit of flesh left to him. Techno-Organic was the only word to come to mind. That, however; was not the most fascinating aspect of it. There was a constant change, advancement nothing was static. There was those who strove for perfection, so-called ‘Godhood’, what a fucking joke. Constant evolution was where true power could be found. He turned his head slightly, flashed a smile at Suicide. “Ya’ owe me a date for that.” His tone was rough, mockingly derisive once her little intruder was removed.

It was around that time the holographic display came into view. Highly detailed, immaculately even, it showed the world the operated on. Then came a very up close view of Tellus Mater. With it came an exercise in stating the obvious. This whole meeting was beginning to grow tedious. His face his little in the way of his thoughts. A furrowing of red brows, a scowl. Just get to the point already. He thought angrily. If this whole gathering was just to go over everything they already knew, it was a pointless waste of his time. His temper wasn't exactly an accommodating feature of his either.

“Alright.” He said abruptly, swinging his legs off the table and standing. “As fun as this Pinky and the Brain take over the world shit is, I have work to do.” He said brusquely. Talking planning, all well and good, only he already had his marching orders. Rehashing this shit was a waste of time. “If you need me for something actually important, you know where to find me Rize.” He said, stepping away from the table. “The rest of you kids have fun, try not to stay up past bedtime.” He called, tossing up a hand in a lazy wave.

Edited by Alexei

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orgive and forget? Not a chance. 

“Well sure Rize, I’ve got the one...that all?”


“No questions, only statements. Those in voluntary notion of a diagnostic systems check, meet with us before taking leave. Those whom deem it unnecessary, will receive a diagnostic and overhaul on the next transmission. Novicide is the present and only exclusion.”

 “How am I suppose to coordinate with my teams, if I am not allowed to give them information pertaining to what, exactly, I will be doing? I have a medical team for my specific care, they need to be notified if they need to be on standby and at the proper distance away. Same with transportation should I need to make...”

“.. I haven’t been able to leave without proper clearance in two years, is this the exception?”

When it was all said and done and Rize had casually absorbed everything they said concurrently his apathetic disposition worn on his sleeve like a fashion statement rebuked it in the name of virtuous leadership. From the beginning he had conceived through his research that working as the de facto to the Babel Corporation meant dealing with multiple agencies and multiple agendas while ensuring they remain loyal to their team loyalty. It was a difficult concept to those who weren't involved, but to those that understood the politics at work and what each position stood to benefit politically and in sheer sovereign they knew just how much themselves they each could be: especially those like Tacicide and Genticide. In the end this meant they could say or do whatever they hell they wanted. Unless Omnicide wanted to severely weaken the morale and coup de force of Babel itself by killing one of their own then he had to put up with their bullshit in-house to facilitate a higher purpose. 

That much he was okay with. 

“The rest of you kids have fun, try not to stay up past bedtime.”

Silent, pragmatic, he stood there gelid and collected as a calm animal reserving its fangs for the right time.

By this time, the nanites would have already made their way through his overtly complex systems via the eyes to perform their systems diagnosis check. 

“Viricide, the next chapter of your project is set to begin now. You know failure is not an option,” Rize scoffed, scratching his neck with his right hand and pointing at Viricide with the other. “You know what to do and where to go, you're one of the outliers. Go do your job.”

Omnicide's neck snapped back to, his hands tucking themselves into his pockets in reservation. 

“Novicide, you and I are partnered together temporarily. All of the details are included in your documentation...as for the answer to your questions...” he glanced at Genticide, giving him a nod in confirmation to release him from his summon were he to even need one at that point. His being there was far more of a formality than even Tacicide, far more in the realm of Viricide's immunity. 

He snapped back to, looking on with a calm indifference. “They'll be answered in four cycles. So take care of any loose ends before then.”

“How's my check Sue, am I good to go?” Rize barked out, knowing that as soon as she knew he was good he would too.

Some would think because of his calmer demeanor in stern duality with his usual demeanor outside of their assemblies that this was what he was truly like. 

They would be wrong.

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Wanton and idle threats of promised eradication aside – all the CIDE seemed to hold friendly contempt of each other, and it was friendly, Val reasoned, because they all had no others that could even remotely be referred to as friends – the man found what he was looking for in the eyes, ears, and jerky motions of the others: Acknowledgement.

Even if they would not meet his eyes, or give him the time of day, they knew that he was there and that was enough, wasn’t it? Sue did not shy away, weathered though she was by the exchange. Nova granted him a smile; Eiji, a glance a few steps above dismissive. Rize was the best of them, and the oldest.  They all perceived him. They, even against their will, knew him. For those who were little more than invisible to the populace which raged on beneath their feet, that was a refreshing sort of freedom, the freedom to simply be.

He leaned back heavily in his chair, happy with his lot, and popped the pill that Sue had distributed into his nose with a satisfied inhale-sigh mixture. Carried to an unknowable point inside the vast catacombs of his veins, it went to work, tingling wherever it touched. Val cracked open an eye – the opposite of a wink, but somehow similar in inflection – and grinned at her. “Tell me, tell me, Sue, how am I doing today?”

A response.

“Well, that much was expected.” Whatever she said did not come as a surprise. He closed his eyes again. “This chair is really nice. And it’s nice, too, to have someone know me as much as I know myself.”

“Well, not really – not close at all, not even comparable.“ he said. “But you know what I meant. And putting it that way sounds…romantic? Grand? Like there’s something special connecting us.” He wafted a hand over all the remaining in the room. “Aside from the obvious.”

ULTIMA, the presence of Ilos, Primal Alloy – these were the fickle coincidences that happened to tie them together, and they were unchanging hard truths. Those were not bonds. Bonds were ever-changing and fragile, that were formed when six unrelated people are made to share a name (CIDE) and a purpose for a lifetime, and were broken as easily as a man’s heart could change. Val’s heart would never change, he thought often, but his comrades’ might. That was what made the bonds with them all the more valuable.

So he would not fail to keep them nourished, nor to do his duty, so that these otherwise meaningless days would continue unabated.

“Course, course, Rize. It’s not a problem at all.” Valentine stretched his limbs as he stood. There was an energy in his limbs that had been absent in his ascent to the room, though none there would notice. “I know, you know, you know I know, I know you know I know – and you know that, but I know a lot too.” He beamed at him, patted Sue and Nova’s shoulders, and gave a lazy salute to each of the remaining with a wide smile. “See you guys later!”

The elevator ride down was long and quiet, and the sound of faint Bach echoed along in the background, growing fainter all the way.

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In any context, when one expects much they tend to receive very little of what they expect. In this situation, is it the opposite. Dark blue and teals alight within each of the prospects dodecahedrons. Each having been sanctioned off as soon as acceptance remitted Suicide’s presence through their personal firewalls. 

It is entirely simple in its extreme complexity. Like a virus Sue protrudes through the vastness of their programming, if only to find the depth of shadow hidden well within their shells. Mannequin bodies with circuit board souls. They are not rewarded golden stars for participation, or awards for being up to standard. For every one of their standards differ. This is what makes Sue alight with excitement. Although there is always a detriment. The personality of hive mindedness possed by Suicide ultimately rejects these ideals. Control in harboring these dismantling functions is incredibly excessive.

Such to the point that it is not surprising for the nanites to randomly reboot. Their minds cleansed and restarted in order to perform the duties required of them. It takes less than a minute. Each of them entombed at about the same time so they can be done in parallel sequences.

Upon completion, the nanites persuasive intrusion comes to an end. Their bodies dissolve within that of the systems of Sue’s cohorts, rendered nonexistent. Their purposes fulfilled.

Valentine is running optimally. Though maybe too care-freely for his own wellbeing. You are free to go, Valentine. Goodbye.”

Rize is in tune, as much as he can be expected to be. Systems are running optimally. Rize, thank you and you know where to find us should the need arise.”

“...Eiji...although with human functioning, is running optimally based on pre-recorded baselines. Next visual will either accept or reject these assertions. Eiji, you are free to go, though bear in mind that your brain may be enhanced it is still outdated. Please contact us if you have any issues or geriatric malfunctions such as memory loss, lost time, and potential blackouts.”

DeaconDeacon is running optimally. All sensors indicate little to no change. Deacon, please take care of yourself.”

Once she relays the information to each of them individually with no crossover, the information is compiled and recorded for futures references should a time come when it is needed. With that settled, Sue stands and adjusts her body clad suit and grabbing her helmet off of the seat from where she had been. 

“Until the next time we meet…” The words hand in the air, trailing lightly behind as Sue walks towards the doors. Family, cold and calculated and lonely… These are Suicide's chosen siblings. Without question. 


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