Toxin

When the time for the appointment came, Lilith had told Nikki all about what she’d seen. She’d started with it first, because it was the most important thing on her mind - it had been bothering her all week. And even if the empath couldn’t help her with the whole “invisible mummy” thing, she could help her sort out her feelings about it.

She described it as best as she could. The initial confusion at the old woman’s actions. The worry she felt at not understanding what was wrong. The shock she felt at seeing the mummy. The mixed fear and rage that made her scream and stop the attack. The churning in her stomach as she realized that she'd nearly lost control in a public place where nobody else could see what was happening. How she suddenly felt the same way as she'd done when the red had cleared and she was standing over a half-dead man and people around her were screaming in fear.

Except there was no screaming this time. Just silent, cold judgement.

Nikki told her that it was normal to be scared. To be angry. Especially at something as bizzare as that. But she also told her that it wasn't wrong to think the way she'd done to begin with. There were people in this world far worse than her when it came to mental health, and that they couldn't control themselves without special medication or help. People jumped to conclusions about those kinds of people and sometimes didn't try to understand. It was better to ignore those kinds of people.

Lilith listened. She nodded. She took notes, and spoke them aloud in her mind. She was told that she would be speaking with Vent about it, since Dawn was no longer the main Kober advisor.

Then, as she left the office, she decided she needed a drink.

 ------

The Dirty Dragon was nothing like VAL-HA11A. It had been built to try and corner the market for classic European-style taverns, that didn't exist anymore, and the failure had caused the landlord to basically give up on keeping up appearances. It was, as the name sugessted, run-down and grimy, with a faint layer of dirt on half of it and grease on the other. The beer was weak, cheap stuff that wouldn't even make a kitten tipsy. The peanuts and chips were stale, the bartender surly and the clientelle worse. The only decent part of it was the live sports, but that was immediately ruined by the blocky yellow subtitles with black background covering half the screen.

Lilith didn't care. It was the one place she was comfortable going that didn't involve the Kobbers in some degree. It wasn't that she was ungrateful, it was just... she still didn't quite trust them. Even though the not-thoughts no longer screamed about hunting them down and kill them, she still remembered the gut panic she felt upon seeing people like Dawn and Vent, unable to decide wherever to run or tear their heads off. And sometimes she didn't want to deal with that.

So here she was, in a corner of this very bar

She had a beer and a bowl of chips in front of her. Both had been too expensive - and, as Lilith was discovering, not worth the money. The chips were too salty, so she had to drink the beer to wash it down, but the bitter taste of the beer forced her to eat chips to get the taste out, which brought back the salt problem again. It was a vicious cycle, but it was something to focus on other than what she'd seen earlier that week, so she didn't care.

What she did care about was the man.

"-tell ya, that fuckin' bitch, I worked twenty-five years at that goddamn factory, bustin' my ass-"

He was already drunk. She didn't need any fancy technology tricks to discern that. Already obnoxiously plump, the redness of his face only made it look even puffier, as though he had some kind of allergic reaction that never went away. His hair was cropped too close to his skull, and this combined with the layer of stubble over his chin and neck made him look like an inflated pig. The white t-shirt strained against his belly and his jeans clung too tightly to his fat legs. His pudgy fingers clutched the half-full glass like a lifeline.

And he was loud.

"-says I'm 'inconsiderate'. The fuck does that mean?! I'm the one putting money on the table, you ungrateful-"

Lilith didn't always have her walkman on. It was mostly there as a coping tool, when she needed to blot out the world and relax or if she couldn't cope with the sounds she was hearing. But thought the trance music pumping in her ears did a great job of blotting out the awful 70's rock that was all the tavern ever played, the man's nasally voice was louder than even that. Lilith wouldn't have minded him ranting about it, but his voice plus the volume made it even worse.

"-runs off with a doctor! A DOCTOR! And as for the kid? Forget it, he fucked off to college and-"

"Dude, you need to calm down."

That wasn't the bartender who'd said that - he'd long lost interest and took to polishing glasses instead. The recrimination came from the only other person in the bar today. Someone who looked to be in his mid-late 20's, blonde of hair and broad of chest. Which Lilith only noticed because he had his shirt wide open in complete defiance of the tavern's policy. He was leaning on the counter with a bag of peanuts in one hand, and looked very annoyed by what he was hearing.

"I'm not gonna calm down!" snapped the man, only glancing at him. "I bust my ass for years to put food on the table and she still wasn't satisfied! That's women for you, all over! And a doctor?! How is some greasy-haired flim-flam snake oil prick better than a guy who's worked steel with his bare hands?! What the fuck's happened to this country?!"

"You're making a scene, dude," cut in the blond, digging more peanuts out of his bag. "Pretty sure nobody else cares what troubles you're going through or what you hate."

"Well, fuck you too!" was the retort. "This is what I'm saying! When I was a kid, you beat up people who wanted to be doctors, and it was okay because they spineless wimps who deserved it! Now we have those same spineless wimps running the show, and you can't talk back at a woman without getting thrown in-"

Lilith coudn't take it anymore. The intrusive thoughts were conjuring pictures of smashing this man's face into the desk until it stopped being a face. And she didn't want to indulge them.

She inhaled her drink, then picked up the bowl of chips as she stood up and headed for the counter. The angry man didn't notice her at first as she approached, but the bartender did, and he gave the closest his square of a brow could manage for an apologetic look as she set the bowl down with a clatter. That clatter drew the fat man's attention, and he shot her a nasty glare in response.

So nobody saw the blonde man dip a finger into the other's drink.

"Sorry," she muttered, and turned to the door. She wanted out. She wanted out and away from this disgusting creature as fast as possible. Because her mind was raging with images of smashing tables over his head or shoving broken bottles into faces, and as much as she wanted to try the grounding techniques, half of her still really wanted to do it, but the other half knew that if she did, then it'd be no better than the time she-

"Hey."

A hand on her shoulder made her turn.

"You okay?" The blonde guy had moved from his position at the bar and moved as if to intercept her. She was a lot taller than him, by several heads, but that didn't seem to faze him in the least. His gaze was oddly searching and intense, as if trying to recognize her face, and for a moment Lilith felt vaguely uncomfortable about it.

But she decided to ignore that. He seemed friendly enough, at least.

"I guess," she tried.

The blonde nodded and gave a smirk. "Don't let it get to you, alright? Some people just can't let themselves be happy 'bout what they got. They always wanna take their misery out on others, and when you pay them any sorta mind, that's when they win. Don't let 'em, you hear?"

Lilith nodded, smiling slightly despite herself. Then she turned and made for the door, ducking underneath the frame in order to let herself out.

So she missed what happened afterwards.

That was probably for the best.

-------

"Boss, I saw the serial number. It was her."

The blonde seemed to be talking to himself now. He'd moved to a corner of the room and sat where Lilith had been, out of the way of notice. For some reason, he had one finger up to the lobe of his ear.

"Look, boss, I'm not shittin' you." His voice was a low mutter, almost a whisper. "You showed me those files, and I got a hell of a memory for faces. And I saw the serial number - it can't be anyone else. I say we scoop her, and quick. Because if she keeps runnin' round like this, she might tell-"

He seemed to be interrupted by something or other. He took a glance at the fat man, who had quietened down and was drinking his beer again. Neither he nor the bartender had heard anything that had been said by the blonde, which seemed to suit him fine. He held his position for a little bit, as if unsure of what to do, but obviously listening to the voice in his ear.

Then he rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Urgh, fine," he muttered. "But if I'm right, you owe me an actual beer and not this watered-down Yankee shite."

Then he lowered his hand, raised the other and made a motion akin to twisting a dial. The effect was immediate, as the man at the bar suddenly began to violently cough, eyes bulging and already-red face turning redder. The bartender looked up at him sharply on hearing the noise - obviously used to hearing people with bad coughs, the raspy note of this one was obviously different enough to remark on..

"You alright, Jeremy?" he asked.

"I-I'm fine," gasped the other man, clutching at his neck with one hand. "J-just gone- down the-"

The blonde in the corner, unseen, twisted his hand some more. Jeremy coughed again, and bloody foam suddenly poured from his mouth as if alka-seltzer had started fizzing in his throat.

"Jesus!" The bartender dropped the glass he was cleaning and ran. Wherever he meant to reach the phone or the gasping Jeremy first was hard to tell. And in the end, it didn't matter. As Jeremy, both hands now on his neck and gagging on the spume erupting from his mouth, toppled backwards out of his seat and hit the floor like a sack of potatoes. He continued to writhe and choke, as if siezed by some horrific electrical current, and his face rapidly turned purple as he fought against whatever it was attacking him, still spewing foam and blood and vomit at a mind-boggling pace.

All the while, the blonde watched and sipped his beer, showing no emotion on his face.

Then, as the bartender ran up and knelt by the dying Jeremy's side, he lifted his hand to his ear again.

"Rousing success, boss."

-------

Test Date: 28/02/2021 

Subject: KK-005 "Toxin" 

Location: The Dirty Dragon, Olympia City

Target: Mr. Jeremy Schechter, Age 45. Bachelor, known alcoholic. Medical reports obtained from outside contacts notes rapid cirrhosis of the liver despite medical treatment. Interviews and medical documents seem to indicate that Mr. Schechter refused prescribed medication due to personal prejudice against doctors and medical professionals in general.

Objective: To test new developments in subject's abilities.

Outcome: Success.

Subject KK-005 arrived at the premises half an hour prior to the target arriving. Mr. Schechter arrived at precisely 14:45 and ordered his usual, a plain beer. After observation and confirmation, KK-005 waited until the target was distracted, then delivered the appropriate dosage of Batch-2004 into the target's drink. KK-005 returned to his table and waited.

After the target consumed the required amount of alcohol, KK-005 activated the dosage. The target immediately began to convulse and choke, frothing at the mouth, then collapsed almost immediately after initial symptoms began. Within five minutes, Mr. Schechter had expired despite medical assistance from those in the premises. An ambulance was called, but Mr. Schechter was pronounced dead at the scene.

We expect to hear the coroner's report sometime in the future. It is hoped that the poison will not be identified, forcing the coroners to place alcohol poisoning or an allergic reaction as the cause of death. It is curious that the compound acted in a similar manner to cyanide - possibly a reaction with the stomach acids and/or alcohol?

A troubling development, however, has occured. KK-005 reported visual confirmation of the unrecovered subject, KK-010, on the premises at the time of the test. KK-005 was told to continue with the test, but this is the second time in as many months that KK-010 has been sighted at a test site. It would appear that the first sighting at the Granada was not a fluke. She is alive, active and most likely has Kobber associations. It would seem that her primary program has reverted to the "default" state, either naturally or due to the reset code being spoken - the true cause is unknown.

KK-005 reccomended immediate tracking and recovery of KK-010. The suggestion was dismissed due to the possibility of alerting her Kobber connections. If she has managed to relay information about this event to any of the Kobbers, then it may be possible that they will actively start looking for us now, and attempts to recover her will only draw more attention. We cannot let them root us out before we are ready to make out first attack. We must let her come to us, if she will.

Development of KK-010-2 and KK-011 is now being prioritized