[audio]

[animusnpcs]

[There's a crackling throughout the Tower's staircase and--painfully--the power comes back on. A moment later, all of the glamour goes back up: everything and everyone looks the way it should, although the food remains nutrition bars and water.

And then Ruana's voice comes on over the network. It's low, sleepy--furious.]

You broke it. You broke it! How could you! How could you! After everything--and now--and now--

[She laughs, though it's not a pleasant sound.]

You're all going to die in one year, you know. For real. Everything will turn off, and you'll all die when I can't maintain you anymore. Maybe I'll send you back before that, and let you all walk around your ruined wastelands for the rest of eternity. Or maybe I won't. Maybe I'll let you die here.

But for now... [Another, high-pitched giggle.]

My darlings, let's play a game.

[While this recording is open for comments, Ruana will not be responding.]

Comments

[video]

[fionnuisce]

[He debated whether or not to speak up; Waver was still deeply unsettled, though confidence was easier to muster when he looked like himself. Regardless of what he was made of now and forgetting any identity crisis, there were worse battles to fight for Waver Velvet. Things far more dangerous than even Ruana. He had a worse and far more evil opponent to break and destroy back home, with even more lives at stake.]

[If he started to fear Ruana now, how was he ever going to stand against the Holy Grail?]

[He faced the terminal with confidence, back in his black and green suit. Volumen Hydragyrum shifted and twisted in thin whiplike tendrils behind him, each looking sharp as the edge of a sword. Sunglasses on his head, ponytail with scarcely a strand out of place, and a confident smirk on his face--he was again absolutely the proud and formidable Lord El-Melloi II in appearance. His actual response was layered with no small amount of confidence and a shred of condescension.]

My dear girl, as I'm far more used to speaking in formal company please excuse me if I misuse the common and less decorative vernacular:

Bring it on.

[The liquid mercury behind him formed itself into the usual silhouette of a girl in a maid uniform in a matter of moments, performing as a farewell salute what looked like a very unkind hand gesture involving one's second finger.]