Private Parts That Make The Whole

[Amea Virou]

The heat was gone, the room practically blasting cold as Amea sat on her bench, having changed out of the armor that had so kindly been provided for her. Water dripped from her hair with an increasingly slow rhythm. The clothes on her back soaked up what little had remained of the shower, leaving the contemplative Warden in equal measures warmth and discomfort. There were a few scrapes and bruises, but none that would be permanent. At least not if Amea’s experience had taught her anything.

Her eyes rose from the floor to look up at Loske. Eyes slowly blinking before they set on the ground again to think about what had happened. The fact that she had in essence acted as a soldier for an interstellar government did not get past her. It was easier to deal with if she told herself that it had been for Loske’s sake, which it was. It had been about ensuring the well-being of her friend, and that was it. The wanton slaughter of demons and apparitions were just additional benefits of the job.

Or, so it had seemed. As they stepped through the portal and returned to base Amea couldn’t help but fall deep into her own thoughts. They had started to fade out, but up to this very point Amea hadn’t spoken much of anything. Until,

“Old me wasn’t a murderer.” Amea said and shuffled in her seat, elbows finding a spot on her knees to prop herself up while she looked towards Loske again. “The muscle memory isn’t there for any of it. The pull and recoil of a gun… The way my heart stops for a second after every single shot I take at someone.”

“Did I… Really just make droids for a living?”

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"Uhmmm..." Loske was leaning over a basin and wringing out her damp hair in a tight coil when Amea Virou became an existentialist. Locker room talk wasn't usually so forlorn and her movements slowed in response to find the right reaction. Right. This was normal. They'd just been in the equivalent of any normal definition of hell. The pilot had become mostly numb to the routines of The Alliance's beck-and-call, finding purpose in the fight. but the silence after pulling themselves from the doorway to hell suggested that numbness should probably be explored.

Part of her wanted to explore the route of Who told you that? But decided to leave it. Whatever pieces of her former life Amea was collecting and putting together to get a better understanding of where she was now, relative to the past, was wholly up to her. Loske'd decided not to push anything after that failed attempt of Flow Walking.

"Mostly." Was all she offered blindly before turning around to search the expression of the SpacerTrash™ folded on the bench. What part of this was she wrestling with? The enjoyment of it? The loss of control? The paycheque? "I mean," she shrugged and took a seat beside her friend, stretching out her legs and knocking the toes of her boots together while she thought about how to continue broaching this subject. "There's always more than just someone's day job."

This friendship was as precious as it was precarious to her, but she wasn't sure which one of them she was trying to protect more. At least at this point they'd proven they weren't just trying to fit a circle into a square, and their natural friendly chemistry transcended the supposed circumstances of yore - but still. It was delicate.

"But yeah, no, this..you are..you're the mirror of your former self.

Like the kind of mirror image that shows the left hand, when you hold up your right." Her demonstrative gestures helped prove the point, arms akimbo to one another.

Guess there was no way to ascertain what was setting Amea off without asking.

"Are you okay?"

 

[Amea Virou]

Her lips split into a grin as she stared at the ground again. Loske took a seat and Amea glanced up at her. The grind faded away for a second as she thought about who this person was. Everything that Amea had thought to be wrong with the Core Worlds and the Jedi, for one. A good reminder that said preconceptions were more incorrect than her small minded Spacer Trash™ mind could even have comprehended at the time when they met. The fact that she was friends with someone so clearly opposite of her was… Refreshing all things considered.

A weak smile spread on Amea’s lips as she sat up straight again and gently nudged Loske’s shoulder with her fist.

“Nothing I won’t get over with the help of a good friend or two.” She said and stood up. “Just have to let the world sink in, you know? Feeling a bit overwhelmed with everything going on.”

But what Amea wouldn’t be aware of was the fact that Loske had just been sent a suckerpunch of emotion as the holo-device wrapped around Amea’s wrist brushed against her. It would be a slow ascent into something a lot less grim and somber. The air cleared, the scene changed, and there in a small unremarkable bunk-like bed laid Amea. Her legs were crossed, her back leaned against the wall in an awkward position as she slowly flipped through a book on obscure force traditions. In the background Yon Akah’s voice blared through a low-quality speaker affixed to the roof as a slow sigh burst through her nose.

And yet, in that very moment, the relative silence was pierced by the sound of her holo-device’s message tone and vibration against her skin. At first she thought little of it. Her hand let go of the book as she twisted her wrist to project the holographic screen before her. Another prolonged sigh parted her lips as she turned to look, and in an instant she shot up. Her head bumped against the roof of her little compartment and a short string of expletives hissed out from under her breath as she rubbed her forehead and looked at the message.

Loske. Coruscant. Party. Amea was ecstatic. Her fingers swept at the projected screen:

“YES. BE THERE SOON. EXCITED TO SEE YOU. WILL BE AWESOME. Hugs, Amea.”

She was about to hit send when she re-read the message one more time. No no, this wouldn’t do. It would come across as disingenuous or curt. Her brows furrowed as she tried to come up with a better message.

“Yes, that’s awesome! Thank you for inviting me.”

No, too pathetic. Would make her seem too clingy.

“Cool yeah, give me a name and address. I’ll be there.”

Too cold. Amea shook her head. She lifted her finger to hit delete when her wrist slowly shifted to the side. What had been meant to remove her message would instead end up causing her to hit send instead. A moment of panic ensued as she glanced at the screen in horror. Friendship over, this was it. It was good knowing Loske while it lasted. Rest in pieces the chance at surrounding herself with good, stable-minded people.

Yet, Ragnarok never happened. Loske sent her response back. An excited message no less that allowed Amea to let out a sigh of relief as she leaned back in her bed, only to this time hit the bump the back of her head as well. An even longer string of expletives did part her lips before the vision slowly ended to the sound of present-Amea waving a hand before Loske with an inquisitive glance.

“Are you okay, man?” She asked and couldn’t help but grin yet again. “You mentioned some sort of tickets before. What was that about?”

Loske Treicolt​

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"Oohhh boy, do I get that."

The kiffar was forced to remain sitting dopily while Amea Virou rose to stand. The hesitation and stagnant position wasn't of her own volition, she just hadn't necessarily mastered the art of walking and absorbing all in one fell swoop when memories were sporadically impressed on her. She'd become better at controlling her requests, and when memory narratives were spun to her mind's eye, but accidents still tended to happen. And the former Talith had a tendency to bring out the worst in her lack of control on most fronts.

The offhanded recollection was sweet, and Loske's expression betrayed her interpretation with a gleeful grin. Through the hazy view, Loske couldn't understand the internalizations and anxieties of the spacer, but could only appreciate the backspacing and awkward body language that went into the creation of the communications. That was all the wrist device could give her, and it was enough. Perhaps a little intrusive. Loske was well familiar with awkwardly figuring out just the right message to send. She'd been on the other line of it, and thought the whole experience might be a nice, low-commitment introduction to Loske's affiliations and beau. Turned out yes on all fronts.

Amea's voice broke her from the vision.

"Oh yeah, sorry." She blinked the residual remnants of the spacer's chamber away and refocused on the barrenness of the locker room. "Spaced out for a second. I'm good."

With a gesture that suggested it's nothing she rose to stand and swept up the hair that was threatening to soak through the fabric on her shoulders into a top knot. She gestured toward the door and sealed her temporary locker shut, but not before removing her go-to jacket and shrugging it over her shoulders. They were back on Coruscant now, someone else setting up shop on Caamas now that it had been brought into the fold of The Alliance.

"I originally got them to get under Frank's circuits." she explained as they maneuvered down the halls that eventually lead them out to the streets. She pulled out her datapad, beep-booped a few gestures and tranferred of the tickets over to Amea's ownership. Her little wrist device would give an indicative ping soon enough. "It's for this thing called Nuna-ball. Have you heard of it? I hadn't, and serendipitously, is happening this afternoon. Kind of a weird juxtaposition after darting through hell and punching demons in the face." She smirked at the reality of life. In the end, everything had to boil down to balance.

Otherwise you'd just lose it.

"Anyway - apparently it's an all droid based sport. Which is why it bothered Frank so much - but he's not brawny enough to make the team - figured with your technical affinity it might be fun to watch."

She read the ticket aloud: "Caamar Caltrops vs. Humbarine Hunters.

Man, I love cheesy team names."

 

[Amea Virou]

Loske Treicolt

Her locks sway back and forth as she looks at Loske with a bemused albeit slightly worried smile. It was all too familiar what getting stuck in your own head could mean. Hell, for all intents and purposes it was what had just happened to Amea herself. As Loske stands up, Amea takes a step back to allow her friend the space before she follows closely behind the blonde who proceeds to lead them out of the locker room. The change in atmosphere causes goosebumps to spread along the brunette’s softly tanned skin and she can’t stop herself from instinctively brushing her hands against both of her upper arms for warmth with a slight shiver.

Nuna-ball. Amea gives her friend an incredulous glance as Loske turns to look at her. To ask whether or not Amea was familiar with the sport was like asking if Loske was familiar with the Jedi Code or if Maynard was aware of the existential threat Amea would pose if her hurt her friend. Her shoulders rise with an instinctive exhale as another Spacer Trash™ smirk spread upon her lips once more.

“I saw the Arkania Avalanches play live last month.” Amea says and gives a lighthearted shrug. “Cute mechanic, very nice to talk to, but also… Very much taken.”

Or at least that was generally what a ring on a finger indicated. Amea glances up the road, her eyes catching sight of nearby billboards with the Caamar vs. Humbarine match in full holographic detail. Yellow on brown, Caltrops on Hunters. One of them is more ruthless than the other but no more skilled. Truth of the matter remained that a fight was won with both force and grace, not the exclusion of either. Something neither team seemed to have realized just yet. One team favoring bruteforce, and the other agility.

“Alliteration seems to be big in team names, huh?” Amea laughs as she looks back to Loske. “It’s one of the more tense games of the season. The Hunters were snubbed of a victory against the Caltrops last year on nothing more than a technicality. Neither team won, but… Well, needless to say there are some hard feelings between them.”

“Of course, neither team ended up winning the cup. That went to the Knights of Kuat for the second year in a row now.”

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Amea Virou unloaded an unreserved amount of information and left Loske to sort through the pile of stats and updates. Other than a dumbfounded expression, she didn't have much to offer. This would be her first Nuna-ball game, and honestly, hadn't expected to make it back in time to watch it. Based on her friend's familiarity with the sport, it might be worth investing more time in.

Or maybe it was just a droid junkie thing.

"Wow, okay - so I'll be asking you the questions during this game since apparently your seats were close enough to get near the pits. Afraid that's...not so much the case today.

Hold up - hard feelings between the teams, or the fans? Are these droids built in with personality processors?"

The line to the gate moved at a pace that made the waiting close to unnoticeable as they exchanged commentary back and forth. White noise of raffles, discounts, and requests for orders were added at an amplified volume over the general conversation levels of the crowds. Amidst the general noisiness of the stadium, new aromas entered the atmosphere. Rich odours of buttery delights and other scents Loske couldn't place off the top of her head, but enough to know it smelled delicious. Better than the cafeteria options from The Alliance and certainly more appetizing than anything she'd ever attempted to make.

Tickets please, a droid at the door prompted. Loske produced the holo from her datapad and nudged her friend to do the same.

"Do you think droids get envious of other jobs? Wishing they were athletes?" She asked in an undertone as they were ushered through the gates and into the spill of spectators who were trying to decide where they wanted to spend first.

"Has there ever been cheating? Or a rigged game?" The blonde prompted again, wandering through the slew of people while absently checking in on a few of the screens that were fastened overhead that displayed the countdown to game start.

"What happens then? Disqualification, I guess? Do the droids get in trouble, or the programmers? Or both? What about teams, do the players ever get swapped from team to team, maybe some residual competitiveness sticks around in their databanks?"

She paused near a cart that boasted cinnamon doughnuts, and eagerly pat her pocket. "One bag or two?"

 

[Amea Virou]

Loske Treicolt

“Well, technically droids are programmed to only ‘feel’ what you let them feel.” Amea said with a weak shrug. “It’s about the application of A.I. I suppose? A ticket droid wouldn’t do well with a fully ‘sentient’ AI, but an HRD certainly would. As for cheating, well, it’s a sport. It’s always about which boundaries you can push and still get away with. It’s always an honor when a new rule is introduced because of how well you perform after all Underhanded or not.”

“Usually teams get disqualified, but like I said, it’s hard to get disqualified when there are no rules against it. And especially in a game where the entire point is that the players are dictated by a set of very stringent, re-adjusted set of rules, right? Like, that’s what their intelligence boils down to.” Amea stopped by the cart, “If this, then that. Else… Something else.”

Her eyes lit up at the question of snacks. “Are we talking each, or— hmm, yeah, we are. Two.”

They paid for their snacks and Amea’s rant continued all the way to the seat. “Now, I won’t lie. A big part of why I picked the Arkanians was because of their team colors. Icy blue? Ya girl can’t say no to that.”

Finally taking a breath Amea took a deep breath.

“So, did you get all of that?”

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Loske was content to listen while her friend's eyes lit up on the subject she was passionate about. After they paid their credits for the deep fried goodness though, she spent more time chewing while absorbing the information. As interesting as it was, it was unlikely she'd retain all of it.

"Wow." She breathed, and licked some of the sugar from her fingers. It was safe to do so, since they each owned their own bags so Amea Virou didn't have to worry about cooties or anything.

"I got like, seventy-five percent of that." The blonde admitted, and shifted in her seat. "But man, am I ever glad I asked. If you're ever stalling for a conversation, whip all that out. Great party trick."

Their timing was pretty impeccable with the start of the game. In a spectacular display of pyrotechnics and lasers, the start of the game was announced. Surprised, Loske blinked. She'd never been to one of these games in her comparatively short life -- and even if swoop races had this sort of fanfare at the beginning of a race, she wouldn't know from her concealed starting point.

"LAAADIIESSS, GEENTTLEEMMEENNN ANNDDDDDD DEDICATED FANS!" The announcer began -- their thunderous, charismatic voice booming through the stadium's sound system. Loske clutched her doughnut bag in anticipation. "LET'S GET READY TO NUUNNAAAA!!!"

All around them, the seats started to hoot and holler in support of the game kicking off.

---

Rolling back and forth on their treads as a pre-game ritual, the HSS4 "BUTCH", focused on the maneuverability of his drivetrain. The droid's autoreceptors indicated the growing excitement outside and the familiar drum of the announcer's throaty voice.

It beeped out a sequence of binary strings that bolstered the manufactured sentiment of the team. Their metallic arms rising above their head in HOO-RAH!

Giving a final, tight roll back and forth, "Butch" leaned forward to take the Hunters to the field.

As soon as they flooded the grass, the stands greeted them with a chorus of energy.

Dutifully, the droid whirred up to the centre line where an alien crouched with a panicked nuna in it's clutches. The mammal was more afraid than angry at this point, so it hadn't puffed up yet. Butch's programming had anticipated that. Suspecting that it's weight would make for a more difficult toss.

"Heads or tails?" The referee prompted, balancing the weight of a single credit on its thumb.

Butch ran an analysis on probability.

"Heads."

The analysis failed him. The referee announced "Tails" and buoyed the weight of the creature before tossing it in the direction of the defensive team.

Butch beeeeped angrily.

Spoiler

 

[Amea Virou]

“You are sort of implying I get invited to parties by anyone other than yourself there, Matson.” Amea chuckled with a warm smile at her friend before she looked back at the game. “Now hush, the game’s about to start.”

The roar of the announcer and the stoked excitement of the crowd was always contagious in these things. As the others stood in their seat, so did Amea. And as the others began to chant their team’s name she joined in as well. The droids rolled onto the stage and it only got more intense. A surprisingly heavy silence fell over the crowds as the referee approached the teams to flip the coin. The whistle of the spinning disk could almost be heard from where they sat before the entire section they sat in erupted into a gleeful roar at their good fortune.

“CALTROPS. CALTROPS. NUMBER ONE. WE DON’T LEAVE UNTIL IT’S DONE.”

Never let it be said those who came up with chants were clever, but at the very least it was contagious. Amea looked at Loske with an excited glance before she turned back towards the game. From the ceiling dropped a small ball-shaped item. It looked like a Nuna, but…

“The Nuna is usually replaced in more reputable games like this.” She said and shrugged. “Draws the animal rights crowd otherwise.”

The Caltrops kicked their first Nuna towards the Humbarine Hunters, and…

[ The Caamar Caltrops rolled a d20. Result: 6. ]

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Now hush. "Oh sore-ee," Loske murmured, poking at another doughy delight "Didn't realize I was here with Nana Virou."

---

Butch's circuits kicked into overdrive. Butch rolled backward, their photoreceptors triangulating the incoming faux creature. Clamp-like ends lifted to catch the creature and cradled it, breadbasket.

Spoiler

d20 = (12) = 12

---

"Woo!" From the stands, Loske had decided she'd cheer for the Humbarines, if only to be the opposite of Amea Virou and give them something more to talk about. There were a smattering of fans amongst the stands that echoed the jubliation - though significantly less in number than the Caamas supporters.

---

With the Nuna in arms, the droid angled itself forward - the barrel of it's supposed chest angling toward the ground as it rocketed forward. It's team clustered around it as protection to shield the roller as it crossed several lines.

It had one objective -- reaching the goal line.

Oof! A rogue droid managed to slip through the defences of Butch's teammates, and the nuna flew into the air once more. Scrambling, the Hunters rallied to level up over one another to catch it again....

Spoiler

d20 = (17) = 17

 

[Amea Virou]

It was a slow, gradual turn of heads. One lonesome ‘woo!’ called out from the Caamar crowd to a backdrop of immediate silence as nearly every person in a thirty-feet radius turned to stare at Loske with utter contempt. Amea stared at her friend in horror, her hand waving at the others as if to say she was new to the game. The crowd slowly turned back to the game again and Amea continued to look at her friend.

“Wrong section, Loske.” She whispered to her friend. “But hey, fifty credits on whoever wins?”

---

On the field the Caamar team was seeing greater opposition than they had anticipated. The pain from last year must have been too much. The tacticians must have failed to account for a change in the Hunters’ strategy and it showed. The Caltrops seemed to lag behind, and it didn’t look good. So soon into the game and they were already down. The hunters started a new offensive, the Caltrops responded, and…

Their offensive was met with a harsh crash. The caltrop crowd went wild as sparks jumped off of the metal plating of Butch and his opponent. The Caltrops grabbed the nuna, slipped through the defense and dropped the ball in the basket with ease before resetting back for kick-off. The scoring droid did a little dance to the adoring screams and leering booing of the crowd before it went back to its own team.

Amea gave Loske a smug grin before she glanced back at the game.

The second kick-off started, and…

[ Caltrops rolled a d20. Results: 2. ]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"Oh." The jedi admitted sheepishly, twisting the top of her doughnut bag while a crowd of antagonistic eyes glowered in her direction. So this was just like the rest of life, you couldn't speak out for the other side without consequence.

This game was a first, and she'd never gambled before. She'd been the object of gambling, with Blue Sato as a name several people had placed bets for or against the racer -- but participating? Never. The idea was tantalizing and she rubbed the sugary powder from her fingertips and extended her hand in a shake to her SpacerTrash™ friend. "Yes, you got it."

---

....and a Hunter bolted forward, making an easy catch of the manufactured Nuna. Cradled beneath it's metallic would-be-armpit, the droid whirred forward on its treads. The only focus was the stretch of grass ahead, beyond the solid line where a point could be collected.

It weaved, dodged left-right-right-left of the offensive rush. The hunter's teammates flanked either side of the droid, at the ready for a pass to show their collective teamwork (an effort stressed over the past few months of reprogramming).

The droid with the nuna realized it's path was about to be cut short and twisted to the right, tossing the nuna against all odds toward it's teammate..

Spoiler

[Humbarine Hunters: d20 = (14) = 14]
Amea Virou

 

[Amea Virou]

Loske Treicolt
To have gone from hell to watching droids dish out a more grounded amount of such a place to each other was a welcome break. As Amea stuffed her face with one cinnamon drenched pastry after the other she gave the game her full attention with a certain kind of joy radiating off of her. It felt good to relax, to let go of the worries and watch artificial constructs tear each other at the seams.

---

It was a valiant effort, but one that was inevitably cut short by the Caltrops’ defense as they lunged into the air to catch it between the two passers. The defender passed it to an attacker, the attacker to its partner that passed it back.

The ball was caught. The droid raised it above his head and tossed…”

[ Caltrops rolled a d20. Result: 10.]

---

Back in the stands Amea was trying to unwind, her chest rising and sinking at a pace that continued to give away her excitement.

“You just happened to have these tickets?” Amea exhaled and looked over at Loske. They might have rooted for separate teams, but who cared? Amea’s heart was still with the avalanches. “Thank you for bringing me, really. This has been great so far, and the first first third hasn’t even ended yet.”

Only a few precious seconds remained though. The Caltrops would have to work for a finisher in these few remaining moments.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Humbarine Hunters roll d20 = (10) = 10

One of the Hunters lunged to intercept, and managed to snag the ball between the Caltrops. A triumphant roar swept through the stadium on the opposing side of the stadium from the thread's main characters.

The gears of the droid sparked, and it groaned to collapse between the two Caamas' droids. The nuna still in it's clutches. Now, it was largely inflated. Large enough for another team member to reach in and grab it before the Caltrops could. Humbarine Hunters roll d20 = (18) = 18

With bated breath, the crowds watched while the droid plowed through the opposition, whirling in the direction of the chants and to the goal area. Unopposed in it's charge, it managed to gain the lead! Putting it's gears to the grind, and lunged up, up, up to the net! d20 = (12) = 12

Half of the crowd (finally) went wild! NOT A SECOND TOO LATE!!

---

"Man, it takes a while to get one point." The blonde murmured, dropping her elbows against her thighs and leaning forward with a huff. It took longer to get a point for the Hunters than for Loske to realize she might be on the losing end of the bet she'd just agreed to.

"Yeah, talk about fortunate timing. I'm glad you're here with me too." She offered a smile to her friend, and nudged her shoulder against the bare upper arm of Amea Virou .

"I know we're betting on different teams, but I'm also kinda curious what you can do -- can you manipulate any of the players from here?"

Someone wandered through the spectator stands, a tray resting against their belly as they bellowed out calls to action. Step by step they wandered up and down the cleared route, only peeling over to the sides to make a transaction official.

"Oh!" Loske elbowed her friend to get her attention, and pointed in the direction of the Crolute distributing confections and beverages. Without waiting for permission, she sprung up her index and middle finger to the fellow who produced two beverages. Those in the row with the girls passed them along an assembly line until they reached the brunette and the blonde, who in turn, send over a pair of credits. Those doughtnuts had been pretty drying.

 

[Amea Virou]

Loske Treicolt

The Caltrops tilted, and they tilted pretty damn bad. Metal ground against metal as sparks flew from competitors on both sides, but in the end the Caltrops found themselves one man down and the entire crowd around Loske and Amea found themselves staring in silence as the first programming break of the game signaled into the air. Clean up crews composed of droids and “post-adolescent employees” entered the stage to swipe away most of the debris left in the wake of the match. With that Amea sipped on the newly acquired drink and let out a small cough, unprepared for the drink to be as heavily carbonated as it was.

Or maybe it was the question. Would Amea cheat in favor of her team? She looked at Loske, first with an almost offended glance, and then with something a bit more… Malicious, as she truly began to consider it. However, soon enough her head would begin to slowly shake from side to side.

“No,” She said and took another sip from her drink. “At best I can read them, but I need to actually touch them to truly do something. I mean, sure, I could maybe make them react a bit faster or throw a better punch, but it would take a lot from this distance.”

“Basically, think of it like a radio signal, right? The further away you get from the source, the weaker it gets.”

“Why? Do you… Want me to help one of the teams win, or… ?”

 

[Loske Treicolt]

A flurry of denials came out in rapid succession as she watched Amea Virou calculate her considation."No-no-no-no-no- that would be unethical...unless." Her head cocked to the side, and she wrapped her lips around the end of the straw, taking a sip that almost looked pensive with her eyebrows raised. She was about to dive into how cool the ability to manipulate machinery was, she'd seen Allyson do it plenty of times, and even Amea, when she stopped. It was weird to have all these memories and not be able to tout them out when it was helpful.

The bubbles surged up the straw and she felt them settle in her stomach as she scratched her chin in thought. The expression was genuine.

"You kinda looked like you wanted to, for like, five seconds. Let's see if we can get closer? These seats are...so so. But hey, as bad as it sounds, I've noticed some people find it pretttttyy difficult to deny uhm, a little bit of eyelash batting here and there."

She scooched forward in her seat and rose, several knees alongside their row drawing in near their seats and twisting to the side to let the girl exit. As if she had to go to the bathroom, or something. Not now! Not after the first third –– the lineups were always atrocious.

"Or wait, let's.." she paused, and sat down again. much to the chagrin to those who had politely prepared to make way for her exodus. They groaned slightly, burying their hands in their popcorn or losing interest in the spectacles of the first third intermission to their holodevices, instead swiping through several status updates of random politicians and celebrities. "Let's see how far away you can operate? Yeah? Yeah?"

 

[Amea Virou]

Loske Treicolt

Oh there was definitely a questioning glance and amused grin on Amea’s lips at the idea that the idea of cheating would be ‘unethical.’ Loske had just seen her tear through demons and shades in order to secure the fragment from one of the universe’ most dangerous weapons. Amea had lied and cheated in far graver settings. This was just a bit of good fun.

A tsk and a chuckle parted Amea’s lips with a small laughter.

“Alright,” She said and glanced down at the playing field. “What do you want me to do here?”

Her focus set on the nearby snack hawker and then Loske. Feigning a scratch on her nose, Amea looked away in time for the lights on his heat device to flash in and out of life before they went back on again.

“Hmm, that’s weird.” She feigned what seemed to be genuine surprise, just like the others. “Must have a fault coupling.”

 

[Loske Treicolt]

The would-be kiffar did her best to follow Amea Virou 's mischievous glances. At the end of her line of sight, a vendor looked befuddled by the flickering of their orange glowing lights. Their horror suspended by the relief of the lights finally deciding to stay hot and keep the strips of meat warm and up to safety compliance.

"That's pretty far away." Loske murmured under her breath, ripe with admiration.

Her interest piqued, she perked up in her seat and glanced around for another victim. Without interfering with the circuits of the players directly, their options were limited.

Meanwhile, the first third intermission came to a conclusion and the droids took to the field again. It felt like this part of the game was moving along far quicker than the first third. For a few minutes, Loske forgot about the challenge to her companion and became enraptured by the plays ahead of them, shouting praise when it was appropriate.

Throughout the stands, spectators were glancing down at their personal handhelds. The scores of their fantasy league updating intermittently as the plays went on. A few clenched their fists in triumph, others paled their knuckles in frustration.

The blonde leaned back, feigning a stretch.

"Alright. It's super far from here -- but how about the score board? I'm kinda keen to see the gamblers get their knickers in a knot."

 

[Amea Virou]

The scoreboard. While Amea wasn’t one to avoid a challenge, the thought did cause her to frown for a moment as she considered the approach. It would require a great deal of focus without giving her away. She would need to isolate the signals, delve into one of them and follow it into the heart of the machine. From there, find the correct pulse to trigger, and with it cause a distraction for the crowd. Hell, for all Amea knew she was about to throw the entire bookie circle into a frenzy, much less the crowd.

Her right hand moved up to grab at the side of her head. Amea furrowed her forehead and grasped at one of the canisters on her belt to deposit three small white sugar pills into the palm of her hand.

“Headache.” She hissed and leaned in towards Loske’s shoulder as her hand snaked under the blonde’s arm to truly sell the illusion, her lips parting one more time with a weak whisper. “Play along.”

Amea’s eyes closed and the game was on. To separate such a small sliver of activity from a stadium of people wouldn’t be easy. A plethora of little white dots spread across the periphery of her unseeing vision, tiny globes that each held a purpose and life of its own as they raced across a cosmos of possibility. Pulses of action and inaction, on and off, one and zero; a binary language that wasn’t truly meant for her eyes to see. And yet she had been blessed with this void, this new dimension that Amea had come to embrace as part of herself. It was the only thing she knew that reminded her of who she once was, a legacy of what was hers and yet not hers at all.

It took time to sort out the purpose of the nodes as more of them seemed to appear before her. Some were easier to separate as long as she kept focus on what it was that she needed to find. A bigger machine more often than not contained more impulses to keep it operating than a smaller one did. While it was hard to discern exactly what it was that she was looking at most of the time, the pulses did group together to form coherent units.

In reality Amea was holding onto Loske’s arm with a firm grip, the pads of her fingers pushing against her skin with a grip that could truly sell that a spontaneous case of migraine had kicked in. Her friend, Amea, squirmed gently in her seat before finally the grip eased ever so slightly. The squirming stopped, the deed about to be committed. Brown eyes met the light of the arena again with a dazed, almost glossed over glance.

Her eyes set on the scoreboard with a genuinely pained look as the machine seemed to spark for a second. The attention of the crowd diverted from the game to glance up at the board as the Caltrops’ score flickered out of existence and then back again with a newly added ‘9’ at the start of what had been the original score.

The crowd went quiet. Amea felt her world blur, the weight of the world wearing on her as she collapsed against Loske’s shoulder. This time it wasn’t an act. She was out cold.

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

A spectator to now two sports, Loske nodded with Amea Virou ‘s instructions. Around them, the collection of fans were uninterested in any of the gestures or whispers passed between the two friends. They were all leaned forward in their seats, attentively keeping eyes on the robotic athletics in front of them. Randomly, someone would hoot, and someone else would groan back. It was all background noise, passive audio that Loske paid little heed of while the pressure against her arm intensified.

The brunette looked uncomfortable. Lost in a mind beyond the present. Whether or not affliction had found it’s way into her skull, Loske couldn’t really tell. She was relieved when the grip loosened. A knowing, roguish grin infected her face and she went to nudge her friend to victory as murmurs of disbelief swept through the crowds. Those murmurs grew louder and louder, the volume rising as many did to their feet. Like the reactions before, they fell into the background while the Palawan realized her friend hadn’t reacted to her jovial rib nudge.

“Amea..” Loske murmured hotly, giving her shoulder a shake. To her horror, there was no stiffening in protest to the rude shudder. Instead, the body leaning against her was limp. A shrillness found it’s way to her hoarse whisper of encouragement: “Amea!”

Feeling ashamed and responsible, the blonde’s gaze darted around. The scoreboard showed no signs of going back to the previous numbers, and many around them were becoming agitated. She tried again, hissing: Amea! to no avail.

She poked her head above the brunette’s, pressing her hands against the girl’s shoulders to make sure she didn’t slip and smash her face on the duracrete, she decided to get them out of the row of seats. With a modicum of effort, she imbued her strength to give Amea some level of animation while she draped the woman’s toned arm over her shoulders and rose to stand, supporting the passed out ex-Talith. Shimmying in front of people’s knees, she gave an expression of apology by way of explanation while those in the row preoccupied themselves with confused conversations, confirming that their eyes were not deceiving them and the score had indeed multiplied horrendously against their favour.

Heels dragging, Loske perched Amea against a bench within the woman’s lavatory and eased her back against the wall. Lifelessly, the corpse slumped. This wasn’t very good.

Unsure how to best rouse her companion, the blonde crossed to the tap and wet both her hands until her skin was completely drenched. Enough to walk back to the unconscious party and flick flick the water from her fingers to the girl’s cheeks.