GM_TERRA

CHAPTER 15: ttt_tension_in_terrorist_town

A soft, binding click softly emanates from the polished steel door knob. It's locked; who wouldn't have guessed?

A second look past the wall reveals her hurried pacing as before. I'm guessing she didn't hear it over all the commotion of her packing. Well, it doesn't matter how secure the keypad is. It won't stop me from gettin' through your walls. So I brace myself for the unsettling feeling and sensory deprivation of noclipping and passing through.

The sight that first greeted me was no longer the half-tidy and homey room laced with trendy items or furniture from the multitude of countries she visited. But a suite of discordance with pale maroon walls and a hastily stuffed backpack as its nucleus. It was as if everything was hastily judged and tossed aside, not by fashion but by practicality. Ironically, the normal her would always prioritise style over substance, even if it meant sacrificing durability. Judging from this alone, even a child could tell she was terrified.

'Cloak Disengaged.'

~<GM_TERRA>-

"We need to talk," chimes an eerie, mechanical voice.

At that moment, the Forte ceases motion. Her tail straightened, just like the hair on the back of her neck. A chill courses through her veins like liquid oxygen, and a tingling sense of dread hovers over her back.

"..."

A moment of silence passes, leading her to realise that the cold steel is waiting for her next move.

"H-Hey there, Construct, fancy hearing your voice again?" It's quite different from the last time I heard you. Y'know at the ball and all. Sa-... Say, what brings you here, buddy!"

"..."

Nothing is said in response for what seems like an eternity, just a simple point to her frozen tail and drenched neck.

Croissant turns fucking pale, terrified of losing her ability to keep her mask on. This charisma check may have sealed her fate.

A faint mechanical sigh is spoken, followed by, "Do you know why I did that,"

"Did what?" The orange tries to double down. Even a shitty attempt is better than nothing, so please, fall for it! Please!

"Didn't we already establish that you failed that charisma check?"

'Shit.'

Another sigh.

"Anyway, you and I both know that Mr. Motherfucking GAH- wouldn't stop sending hit squads after Penguin Logistics and, by extension, me until we were both buried in lead, right?"

A look of partial question crossed her face; mind you, she was still heavily saturated in fear.

"You know, the smell-fetish guy with a hard-on for used leather."

"..."

"The client from a few days ago."

"...oh."

Yet somehow, despite the position she is in, her once-tense posture subconsciously starts to relax.

"Man, it's so hard to be upbeat with such a dead crowd; I know you're basically fucked as I have literally zero incentive to keep you alive. Especially when the potential consequences of doing so are perilous for me, but c'mon! talk about a role reversal..."

In total bafflement at the blunt statement, The young Forte's demeanour morphs into a disgusted fury.

"How are you able to make jokes like that considering what you've done?"