Exploration, basement floor 2 b
Large dye vats are blocking the way. Meursault tries pushing them aside, but they won't budge.
Spools of pure white thread are wound here.
It seems to be a spinning machine of sorts. The contraption is spewing strands of threads at a constant, even pace.
Strands of thread spill forth, winding themselves around the spool. Still no clue as to where it's coming from.
This is the wall Kromer "walked into." It's not an illusion or anything - she really just phased into a solid wall.
Worthless B.S. on the floor. Did that woman drop it?
<Well, judging on how she's been interacting with us.. she probably left it here on purpose.>
<Meursault, take it for now. It might come in handy.>
As you wish.
The machine looks complicated to operate.
<Meursault, do you know how to operate this?>
I am not familiar with the work procedures of Sisyphe's lower floors.
Meanwhile, Outis began manipulating the machine's complex display.
Hm... I do not yet understand the operating principle, but I have a general grasp of the structure.
<Ooh...>
The interface presents three functions: extraction, spinning, and dyeing. Your orders, Executive Manager?
Three buttons appear on the display Outis indicates.
There are three buttons on the screen.
It's the machine that drew thread out of Meursault. There doesn't seem to be any reason to try it again.
With a disconcerting whir, the machine sucked a patch of Meursault's skin onto its surface.
Huh. These threads are O. of a K.
With a disconcerting whir, the machine sucked a patch of Meursault's skin onto its surface.
With a disconcerting whir, the machine sucked a patch of Meursault's skin onto its surface.
... Are... you going to press it again, Executive Manager?
With a disconcerting whir, the machine sucked a patch of Meursault's skin onto its surface.
You want it S.I.T.?
She is asking whether your objective is to have the skin "split into threads," Manager.
<N-no, that's not what I'm doing... But has Sinclair ever interpreted that one before?>
He has interpreted "S.E.N.I.T." before on the bus. It stands for "split every nerve into threads."
<I really don't remember what the context was when she said it.>
A spool of thread plopped out of the contraption.
It appears to be thread made from... Meursault's skin.
There shouldn't be any reason to press this button again.
The threads twang lightly as the machine pulls them tight.
They're starting to multiply...
... Uh, we weren't told anything about increased production volume.
Slowly-slow! Gently-gentle! You'll break it!
... The customers working nearby are glaring daggers at us.
... The accusatory glares around me are too sharp to risk pressing it again.
A warning states that no dye is available.
Nothing happened.
With all due respect, Executive Manager... may I ask what exactly it is that you intend to accomplish?
<... I mean... Sometimes you just want to mash some buttons, right?>
As I try to hammer the button once more, something taps my elbow.
I turned to find Ryōshū's scabbard, Araya.
For a moment, I could swear I heard it say, "You really should stop acting like a kid..."
Yeah, I should stop. This is getting ridiculous.
Dyed fabrics are piled high.
Dyed fabrics hang here.
Hurried footsteps come racing from somewhere as I inspect the fabric.
Dyed fabrics hang here.
Hurried footsteps come racing from somewhere as I inspect the fabric.
Dyed fabrics hang here.
<I heard something like the rumble of a train last time coming from here...>
A sound resembling the rumble of a train comes from beyond the door. I move closer to investigate, but unlike before, I can't see any light.
<I can hear the sound, but...>
…?
Curious, Pwie approached me as I inspected the door...
<Huh? Wait!>
... and disappeared into the crevice.
... They will return soon, Manager.
Meursault was right. Pwie returned in less than a minute.
Threads are running inside. And then they stopped, and then ran again. Why are they doing that?
<... I wanna know, too.>
... It seems this child can enter places we cannot, just like the other customers in the department store.
<We'll need to pay special attention to our back and make sure they're following us.>
The intermittent sounds of train horns and people murmuring are coming through the gap.
It's a sky-blue dye with a particularly pure hue.
A note beside it reads, "Dye under testing. If you intend to use it, take only a little..."
... Not bad. It has some aesthetic value.
No eyeball payment appears to be required. It should be okay to requisition a small sample.
<Let's fill just one container, Meursault.>
Obtained a sample of sky-blue dye.
Nothing but pitch-black darkness. Meursault reaches toward a tiny twinkle of light so faint that it is almost impossible to notice.
Meursault obtained Sawdust.
Green dye.
Like last time, looking at it brings a sense of serenity.
A dye with a yellow hue. At a glance, it almost appears golden.
Strangers. That's not the Golden Dye, so stop hovering around it.
Blue dye. Ryōshū turns her head away, looking displeased. Perhaps the azure hue reminded her of the blue glow of the Pinky Nursefather's Corridor.
Araya, on the other hand, is rattling happily as we approach the blue dye. Maybe blue is her favorite color.
A container filled with red dye. "TO BE DELIVERED TO B3" is written along its side.
I like this color.
Oho?
T.A.R.T.?
<... Tart? What's dessert got to do with this?>
"Torrid and rhapsodic taste," Manager.
I dunno. Seeing this color just makes me feel calm.
It's filled with a sky-blue dye with a particularly pure hue.
Blue dye. Ryōshū turns her head away, looking displeased. Perhaps the azure hue reminded her of the blue glow of the Pinky Nursefather's Corridor. Araya, on the other hand, is rattling happily as we approach the blue dye. Maybe blue is her favorite color.
A bucket full of purple dye. The label on the side says "PURITY - ADEQUATE".
A bucket full of blue-ish purple dye. The label on the side says "PURITY - NOT YET CHECKED".
A bucket, slowly filling with reddish purple dye. The label on the side says "PREMIUM GRADE".
Says "TO BE DISCARDED". On second look, it does look a bit cloudy.
Ohh, maybe this is the Golden Dy - ah. There's a label that says "NOT THIS ONE" taped on the side of the bucket. Guess this isn't it...
Must get these mixed up all the time.
The label reads: "DISPOSAL".
A green dye bucket.
This bucket is sealed tight.
<Hey, here's a bucket of transparent liquid. Maybe it's L'Incolore?>
... We cannot say for certain, Manager. It may be a different fluid that is just as transparent.
Transparent dye...?
No, no. This isn't transparent.
Oho, it's not? Then what does it look like to you?
It's... quiet... sad... and splish-splashy.
Not the most appropriate collection of adjectives for describing color, are they?
Dilettante. Art isn't just a simple observation and recreation of visible colors.
<Regardless, Pwie isn't exactly doing art right now, are they?>
Pwie stared into the bucket for a while, then turned away.
A container filled with red dye. "TO BE DELIVERED TO B3" is written along its side.
My legs hurt. I wanna sit down.
Pwie points to a sofa splashed with all sorts of colors.
If you want to sit, then you need only sit.
Ryōshū picked Pwie up and set them down on the sofa.
…….
Putty quietly glared back and forth between the sofa and Ryōshū, then turned her attention to the dyes without a word.
<So it was okay to sit here...? Then Iet me take a break too...>
As I move to sit down, Putty raises one of her awl-sharp legs.
<... Yeah, never mind. I'll just stand.>
This sofa's nice and squishy, but it's not exactly sturdy. The kid's fine, but it'll probably cave right in if one of you sits on it.
Hm. Perhaps we should purchase a sofa for your exclusive use from the Furniture Hall on 4F, Executive Manager.
A sofa that follows you around, allowing you to sit whenever and wherever necessary so your legs do not tire...
<... It's okay. I think I'm fine on my feet.>
A sofa painted in a riot of colors.
What looks like a department-store directory is glued on a drink vending machine. Damage has obscured most of the lettering.
What looks like a department-store directory is glued on a drink vending machine. Damage has obscured most of the lettering.
We killed B2F's Floor Manager and took the Colorful Skein from their hands.
... Not Sinclair? We must be on the B2, then. What are we doing here, Executive Manager...?
<We need more ingredients.>
Ugh... this line isn't getting shorter. Hasn't budged an inch.
Needlekin need thread.
Can't go any farther... the black clothes are standing there and won't let anybody through.
Have to be quiety-quiet. They said, "Shut up and just wait, stupid Needlekin!"
I smell ciggy smoke... No smokey-smoke here, okay?!
This area is under temporary control. Keep quiet and wait patiently.
Everyone on this floor is being watched. Don't try anything stupid.
We should deal with the Noirs blocking our path first, Manager.
We cannot go through yet, Manager.
I recommend that we attend to another matter first, Manager. There appears to be something of greater priority remaining.
Hi. What's your favorite color?
.......
You have brought desire with you, strangers. As the Voice says, be true to your desires.
The Floor Manager is... in the Skein Nest.
Need something, strangers?
...! So you're the blasphemous strangers who've been skulking around here?
More business to take care of here.
Don't you have something to give us?
... Yo.
These assignment rules seem irrational, Executive Manager. I am beginning to suspect that the woman in the restroom has made an error regarding the chain of command.
She keeps this one permanently attached to your service, while keeping an exceptionally competent soldier such as myself either eternally benched or paired with Sinners whose contributions are... questionable...
And this entity... remains in tow yet, I see.
... A kid.
Ryoshu studied Pwie in silence, then took the cigarette from her mouth and ground it against the wall.
She casually flicked the crushed stub at a Needlekin working nearby.
Agh! No smokey! No smokey!
Hearing the protest spoken aloud made the entire sight feel even stranger.
Heard about you, Pwie.
You're trying to get your clothes made.
Mhm.
The idea that having this entity dressed will secure passage to the fifth floor is... I must admit, quite suspect!
... However, Gregor reports no viable alternative... I suppose there is no helping it.
<Meursault, the farthest we made it last time... was B2 right? This same floor.>
<And Pwie's clothes have to be made at the very bottom of the underground levels...>
<... Which means there must be at least one more floor below us.>
... Yes. It is likely so.
<Then I think we can first look around this floor...>
<Uh...>
All right... All of you, form a single line. We're searching each and every one of you from hem to collar!
... S.H.I.T.
Commotion up ahead. Something must've happened, Executive Manager.
<... Pretty sure it wasn't like this last time.>
I need that Golden Dye... Damn it all. Didn't expect to be stalled here...
Shh! Quiety-quiet! Make noise, get scolded.
Shut up, you basement-crawling lowlife.
<Isn't that the one who was looking for rare dyes...?>
"Naked"... of Le Noir, Manager.
<The whole situation could blow up if we let Naked see Pwie.>
.......
Pwie. Do you like games?
Games...? I've never played one. What is it?
It's where a group of people set rules and play together.
Do you... need rules for that?
Rules are like bones you flesh out with freedom. More fun that way.
I... want to try.
Good. It's "Silent Deathmatch," then.
<You sure it's okay for Pwie to play that game?>
It's for an A.A.A., obviously.
"It's for an Audience of All Ages, obviously," Manager.
There is only one rule: you talk, you lose.
Loser sleeps without lullaby.
... Only you and me playing?
... The strangers and Wriggley are gonna feel left out.
Hmm... Then Wriggley can join. That makes three.
The other fools would rather die than stop talking. They'll survive the fear of missing out in their own way.
*scree*
Three players... Mhm. That works.
Good. Then... game starts now, Pwie.
Mmph...!
Oh? You strangers came down from the upper floors, didn't you?
... You could say that.
Another minute trapped beside these pin-holding idiots and I might end up an idiot, too.
I was never supposed to be held here. I have to get the Golden Dye and head upstairs...
Mm...
*sigh* What I'm saying is... Let me explain the situation. We Noirs are on full alert right now. Surely you've noticed, if you're from above ground. Things are... getting tense, like something's about to blow.
<He's all buddy-buddy with us now, huh?>
He appears to have inferred our status from the items we have purchased and collected so far.
<So, basically, we look like we've got money to splurge, is it?>
Need to be quiety-quiet! Needles can't stop sewing. King wakey-wake, we'll get scolded...
Shut up, I said! Fat lot of good it'll do worrying about needlework when there's no telling what the Rouges are up to out there!
See? For idiots who know nothing about what's going on beyond this floor, they sure like to run their mouth. It's enough to drive a man crazy.
I'll secure the Golden Dye, present it to our big boss, and prove my loyalty to Le Noir beyond dispute. Once that's done, I'll probably be given the right to open my very own Noir store, too. I already have the designs for my own label in my mind!
But first... I must locate the False Voice.
... Is that why the entire corridor is under lockdown?
Yeah. Word came down from the very top. Some people snuck in here to hide and protect the abomination that speaks the False Voice.
I asked to be left off the search list, but it looks like I'm to be checked along with everyone else, just in case. That's Le Noir for you - stalwartly thorough, no exceptions. We exist for the department store, and it is the department store that permits us to exist, after all.
Hm... So they intend to search every last person here? That will take a considerable amount of time.
Yeah. Until we catch those bastards, none of us are getting so much as a single step out of here. Look at what those lunatics are putting decent people like us through. As if failing to devote every ounce of themselves to preserving the Grand Magasin weren't bad enough... Shame on them, right?
... Right. Shame on them indeed.
Still, at least I've had the good fortune of meeting some cultured above-ground customers I can actually hold a conversation with. Well, you people and I are both stuck here, so... why don't we take the chance to talk about some refined subjects? Let us begin with the history of Le Noir -
Before we get to that... are there any more floors beneath this one?
... Even if there were, they'd be no place for people like us. Why do you ask?
If those lunatics truly infiltrated this place... they may attempt to evade the search by heading farther underground. In which case, the first priority should be sealing off the route down.
<.......>
<Times like this, I'm just so relieved that Outis isn't our enemy.>
Is that so.
... You people really are...
... frighteningly clever. I actually got chills just now!
But don't you worry. You won't find any way farther underground. I heard the route was sealed off a long time ago.
... Is that so.
By the way... that thing you've been carrying around. Don't tell me that's a Golden Cocoon?
... It's...
Ooh... now that's a nice feel.
*screeee*
... Cut it out. You're hurting Wriggley.
Enough. Touch it again, and I'll S.Y.N. -
... C.-ed. Not bad at all. Well done, Pwie.
... Gah!
That voice... that form... You're the False One...!
The noisy-noisy got bested!
W-wait! Where do you think you're taking me, you inferior - s-stop!
Quiety-quiet! You want prickly-prickle?!
<Let's make ourselves scarce. The Noirs will be swarming this corridor any second.>
.......
Did I... lose?
No. It's a draw.
Wriggley and I broke silence at nearly the same instant.
We have confirmed that more basement levels exist...
But we have no way to reach them, and we do not know how long the Noirs will keep pursuing us...
<... I know someone who might be willing to help us.>
Can they be trusted...?
<Hmm... I don't know about trusted, but she probably isn't on the Noirs' side.>
Palette, whom we had met in the Dyehouse... belonged to no faction and had shown no hostility toward us.
<She seemed like the sort who simply... went with the flow.>
......
No, Big sis. These people are not here to steal my tears.
.......
M.Q.?
My sister isn't a Mannequin. She's just always been overprotective of me.
Wait, are you guys sweating? Try not to get any on my palette. The salt makes the colors murky.
... We just escaped a rather urgent situation. Fortunately, it seems that the Noirs are yet to set foot in here.
What exactly is going on outside? The customers have suddenly stopped visiting as well...
You need to burst those tears in time. Holding them in for too long can make things go bad.
We are looking for a way to B3. Can you give us any information on how to get there?
There used to be a way, but I blocked it.
Why do you want to go deeper anyway? Wherever you came down from must be a much better place to live than down here...
We want to clothe Pwie.
Pwie? You mean this kid?
.......
Let me get this straight... You mean the clothes are for the kid, not you?
Mhm. I need clothes. Clothes made of Golden Hide.
... I've seen plenty of people desperate to dress themselves, but there's hardly anyone who wants to dress someone else...
Guess you really are strangers.
All right, then... Let's make a deal.
The truth is, I need clothes for my sister, too.
Good clothes need good thread... but I don't want a Golden Skein. Gold isn't my taste.
What I want is... something more colorful. A skein that can soak up tears well.
And under this floor's rules, only the Floor Manager can have a skein that pure. A few strands are handed out to the Noirs now and then. Only the Noirs.
... Annoying rule.
What's so annoying about it? Down here... that's just common sense.
And yet, it is hardly common sense to us "strangers." Which means that if we take - excuse me - bring back the skein from that Floor Manager...
Then you will open the way down in exchange, is that correct?
... You'd really do that for me, strangers?
Well, I suppose... If you can bring me the skein... then yes. I promise.
The Floor Manager is... in the Skein Nest.
<The Noirs will be blocking the route. We'll have to punch through them first.>
[미사용] <… 르누아르들이 길을 막고 있어>
[미사용] <돌파하는 것 밖엔 답이 없겠네>
Want has tugged your thread here.
The Voice of Fate always whispers. "Be honest with yourself. Indulge in your desires."
And so, we will lay our desire bare first. Then you shall let us hear of yours.
... At least you cut to the chase. Good. What are your demands?
More golden thread... rounder skeins... ripe gold, fat with promise.
Everything that would ooze and spill from that cocoon... once our fingers closed and wrung it dry...
We know. Oh, we know what beauty would bleed from it... How splendidly it would feed the birth of a magnificent fabric.
The Voice of Fate cut our old duty loose. No longer shall we spin for other backs. Now the thread will warm our own.
<They were greedy last time too... but something has turned the dial all the way up. Is it because we didn't get the Noirs' Authenticity Certificate?>
... The increased intensity of the sunlight may be causing their altered behavior, Manager.
Now... lay your own desires bare.
Our objectives collide, regrettably. We want... the skein in your possession.
Ahh. Our wants have crossed threads. There is only one way to make two wants lie as one.
One desire must be swallowed so the other may have room.
You brought the skein.
You really did it... You refused to accept "common sense" just because everyone calls it common sense...
Honestly, I half-doubted you. Most people here on the basement floor... can't unlearn what they were taught to call obvious.
If I make clothing from this thread... maybe my sister will find her voice and speak to me again.
.......
Now, time to uphold your end of the bargain...
Take it easy. I said I'd do it, and I will.
The way down isn't far. It was right under your noses all along.
Now, go on... Down you go.
I hope you get to make the clothes the kid wants.
... Juuust... a bite...
Juuust a bite, chew between the teeth... and again, I can...
The Needlekin are chattering seriously.
Needlekin to the front wants pass word! Keep waiting.
Needlekin to the front's front wants pass word! Keep waiting.
What are you waiting for?
Stranger to the front asks! What are we waiting for?
Stranger to the front's front asks! What are we waiting for?
<…>
...!
There they are! The shameless wretches escorting the False Voice spawn...!
... That conniving little rat...!
So these are the offenders. Your service is noted.
I knew it the moment I saw them. I'd have grabbed them by the collar and dragged them over at once, but that False Voice, true to its Rouge savagery, tried to tear me apart without mercy!
And after a grueling and heroic struggle, I courageously kept them pinned there until...
Good work. We'll take it from here.
You strangers are profoundly ignorant. Nevertheless, mercy is among our virtues, so we shall offer you one last chance.
Hand over the Rouge's False Voice, and we will call your conduct a wrong turn and permit you to walk away unscathed.
... Unless the False Voice of the Rouges has taken you hostage? An impurity wrought by Le Rouge... would be more than capable of doing so.
A.Y.B.D.?
Why beady...?
It means "are you blind, dumbass?"
<Um, Ryōshū... I don't think you need to teach Pwie the, uh, art.>
The scabbard gave a faint, approving sway. For a moment, it felt as though Araya and I were exchanging a look.
Can't even tell guardians from hostages? Lemme pluck out those useless eyes - I think you'll be fine without them.
That being will bring ruin not only to us, but to the entire department store.
I cannot fathom why those who are not even of the Rouge would march behind the voice of a false god.
Had you joined hands with us, we might have watched the Grand Magasin prosper together... A road not taken. Truly, a pity.
Back off. This floor is currently restricted.
Back off. This floor is currently restricted.
Needlekin need thread! Needlekin need thread!
Need waity-wait if want thread! Have to quiety-quiet!
Back off. This floor is currently restricted.
<Uh, who are these people...?>
Identity checkpoint. We have information that there are strangers who are sheltering an unholy abomination. State your name and affiliation.
I'm Pwie! And my affili... What's affiliation?
...! Get them!
... Stick close, Pwie.
Ok.
Busy-busy! Need to keep winding the thread.
Needlekin can't rest! Can't rest while queueing...
Collected the Golden Hide from Palette's body.
B2F Floor Manager's corpse.
Let us take the Golden Hide from this one.
Collected the Golden Hide from B2F's Floor Manager.
Back again in one piece. Did you come to say goodbye before leaving?
…….
Oh, Big Sis. I told you - they're not thieves. They didn't come to drain my dye material.
So... What brings you back? Need another color?
We need... the Golden Resin in your possession.
No can do.
We need it... regardless.
<…….>
... You're going to take it by force, aren't you.
But... I trusted you. I even opened the downstairs path for you.
... I regret the breach of trust. But your Golden Resin is essential to our mission.
Strangers who can't be trusted. I should never have opened you the path.
Battle is inevitable at this rate, Executive Manager. But if that is what you choose, I will not hesitate...
<... Do we actually have anything we can trade for it?>
What transaction do you propose, Manager?
Big Sis...
I'm sorry... I wanted so badly to make you those favorite clothes...
.....
.....
I hear... weeping...
Take it from them... I have to... eat it...
It will be... so, so tasty...
Quiety-quiet! Our king is wakey-wake!
Our king'll start stabby-stabbing!
Stabby-stabby is tasty-tasty! And we lap it up quiety-quiet!
Goody-good! Then let's give the king what he wants!
Putty stumbles, then straightens her knees.
…….
Big Sis...!
Stop that. Why are you hurting her?
…….
If there's something you want, you speak to me.
Why are you hurting us?
…!
Putty approaches us threateningly.
I thought strangers from the Fount... would be different.
.......
You're right, Big Sis. If these cruel people want to hurt us, then we can only...
I thought you... would be different.
…….
You're right, Big Sis. If these cruel people want to hurt us, then we can only...
Don't need it.
I thought you... would be different.
…….
You're right, Big Sis. If these cruel people want to hurt us, then we can only...
<If Palette wanted clothing made from Golden Fabric, she would have asked for Meursault's gauntlet or Wriggley earlier.>
<But all she had asked from us was the skein...>
<The scissors. Let's offer what she actually needs to make the clothes.>
If you give us the Golden Resin, we will give you scissors you can use to make the clothing you want.
…….
Wait, Big Sis! Scissors? What kind of scissors?
The scissors of Annette the Alterationist... the tailor who made many attire for Le Noir.
Annette the Alterationist... I've heard the Noir customers mention her. They say her scissors can turn any thread into the prettiest fabric...
Ugh... I'm still gonna have to refuse... I can't make the Golden Dye without the Golden Resin.
You're not making any clothing for your sister without the scissors.
…….
Ever since sunbathing occupied her mind, she's never left the Golden Resin's side, but... Big Sis's favorite color, it was... sky blue.
... You're right. I've no need of the Golden Resin anymore. But those scissors... They are the missing stroke.
We placed the dulled scissors into Palette's hands and received the Golden Resin in exchange.
…….
... (She fixes us with a threatening glare.)
Why are you hurting her?
With a long creak, the arms begin to sag.
Every one of those hands is reaching toward where Palette had been.
Mangled flesh peeks from beneath the tiny scrap of cloth.
Pulverized flesh peeks from beneath the tiny scrap of cloth.
It's exploded into a mess of blue dye and flesh. It's difficult to imagine what it could've looked like before.
What difference is there between tears shed in pain and tears shed in sorrow?
What separates sorrow from pain?
What difference is there between tears shed in pain and tears shed in sorrow?
What separates sorrow from pain?
Lifting the cloth slightly reveals flesh mashed to a pulp, clinging wetly to its underside.
Skeins of thread lie scattered about.
Red-tinged dye trickles through hair stained in a multitude of colors.
It gushes out in heavy streams, just like the tears we burst before.
Only silence remains in the once-crowded Nest.
Loose threads fray free from the worn skein, fluttering through the air.
Their body, creaking in agony, crumbled apart and collapsed.
There's nothing else to collect from this one.
There's nothing else to collect from this one.
Already scooped a bit of this dye.
Already scraped a bit of this sawdust.
A vat filled with transparent liquid. I think it's L'Incolore, but... looks like it's been a while since this batch was made.
An old barrel. There's something written on the other side...
[The higher the sun, the shorter the shadow.]
[When the shadow has shrunk beyond sight, the sunlight is blue.]
[It's a bit overexposed, but this is the color I'll use to paint this place. It's my big sister's favorite color, after all... Noonday Blue.]
The lid is still shut. Has Palette forgotten about this batch, or...?
There's an abandoned numbered ticket.
What's this?
A numbered ticket. Something idiots take to secure a place in a queue.
... So why do they wait in line? Can't they just go in?
They can't, because everyone in line desires to be the first to enter. Therefore, they collectively agree to create a rule called "first-come, first-served," and imbue resultant queue with legitimacy.
Mm... I dunno. Do they have to? Just 'cuz everyone says so?
Yes. Because everyone in the queue shares the same faith that all worthy goals requires its pursuers to wait, and because they have faith that waiting is fair to all, they abide by it.
Fair...
... Fairness is an illusion. Though it might seem like they're all waiting in the same queue under the same rules, that's just not the way the world spins.
…….
Putty stepped forward, blocking our way.
Things seeping from flesh...
Lick them all... leave none behiiind...
It will hurt, but it cannot be helped. What you desire and what we desire can never meet...
Let us do all we can to sink each other's desires to an end.
<The threads wrapped around Meursault in an instant... and he was dead.>
Outpacing it would be difficult... especially with that sticky dye hindering our movement...
Hm... It may be more effective to impede its movement instead.
Hmm.
<Let's think about it once we're out of here.>
<Just hitting whatever we saw wasn't getting us anywhere.>
<We need to destroy the threads first.>
There are far too many threads flying at us... It appears evasion is our only recourse, Executive Manager.
*puff* P.T. -
<Sinclair.>
She said... "How about punching them out of the way?"
<I don't think she even got to the "out of the way" part yet... but thanks.>
If that is indeed possible... it may serve as one viable method.
I will bear it in mind.