Project attempt 1

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[You’re back. It isn’t certain what exactly caused your reawakening- what subtle cosmic shift decided to drag your consciousness from a dull coma back into the world of the living- but you’re here, you’re awake, and you’re driving a car. Mind a jumbled mess, your memories are hazy- outlines of a childhood once lived and yet devoid of any distinguishable faces or places. Your stomach churns as your eyes take in the city before you- only a few people wander about, but a chaos of wires, vehicles, and neon lights suffocate the streets as far as you can see. “Dispatch, come in!” A gruff voice pierces your left ear, alerting you to the presence of a small metal device attached to your head. “Here, Sir” the words leave your mouth before you can process them- flat and professional. “What is your status?” The voice demands. “Specimen acquired and heading back now, Sir.” “Good.” The device beeps, signalling an end to the communication. You swallow, jaw clenching and knuckles turning white against the steering wheel. You hadn’t meant to say that- not consciously, at least. you don’t even know what it means. You’ve acquired a specimen? What specimen? In the rearview mirror, your eyes catch sight of a small cage, propped up against one of the seats. //Oh.// [[Continue -> Page 1]]]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[ Your journey is short, and ends faster than anticipated. The border guards don't take kindly to the smuggling of $specimen, and before you know it, cold cuffs are clicked on to your wrists. [[Prison]] awaits you.]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[ Letting your muscle memory take over, you drive to the laboratory. Its towering concrete walls send a shiver of nervous anticipation down your spine, and the building guards are quick to tap on your window, faces stony and obscured by heavy-duty helmets. "ID?" One of them shouts, and you swallow back the fear simmering in your chest. "05693442." "Is specimen 42 in your posession?" "Yes." The guards exchange glances, and you can feel your gut twisting. it's irrational- you're an employee, doing your job. //... But what if they've already caught on?// The closest guard speaks again, and your blood freezes. "Hand the specimen over, we will take it from here." [[Comply ->Hand animal in]] or [[defy them ->defy]]?]

{ (track: 'Clock', 'stop') (track: 'Dystopian', 'stop') (track: 'Prison', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'Prison', 'loop', true) } (b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[It's dreary, cold and dark. Your chest feels hollow. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know that $specimen has been killed. Memories push at the back of your mind, but aren't able to break free. You fear that they may never. There is nothing more that you can do. The [[End]].]

{ (track: 'Dystopian', 'stop') (track: 'Clock', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'Clock', 'loop', true) } (b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[With $specimen gone, you can do nothing but head to your office. Bright light shines down, piercing your mind, and reminding you of just how futile your efforts were to begin with. Escape the System? Rescue $specimen? You are nothing more than a worker for a shitty, corrupt government lab under the control of the System. $specimen is probably terrified, minutes away from being killed and sorted into various jars and vials and- Your gut lurches in self-digust. Looking around, memories push at the back of your mind, but aren't able to break free. You fear that they may never. // // The [[End]]]

{ (track: 'Dystopian', 'stop') (track: 'Clock', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'Clock', 'loop', true) } (b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[$specimen is similar in size and weight to a bunny, and has rougher fur than you had anticipated. It tickles your hands as you place it in your jacket’s inner pocket, curling up like a millipede would. The parking bay is startlingly empty, and your footsteps echo crisply as you make your way to the entrance. When you twist the doorhandle, a small camera blinks to life before you, scanning your eyes for a few blinding seconds. A sharp click sounds, and the door swings inwards, revealing a desolate corridor with striking white walls. Clinical lights illuminate the space, and the scent of rubbing alcohol lingers in the air. You shiver, walking forwards, and the door closes on its own behind you. In your pocket, $specimen shifts slightly. You have two options. You can either [[explore ->Explore]] or [[head straight to the office ->Straight to office]].]

{ (track: 'Lab', 'stop') (track: 'Fridge', 'stop') (track: 'Clock', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'Clock', 'loop', true) } (b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[There are two doors nearby, that lead to the [[Genetics Lab]] and the [[Freezer]]. Which do you choose? Or, you can continue on to your [[office->Straight to office]].]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[The building hallways wind like a maze, but your feet know where to go. The large, imposing space almost seems empty, but you know that such a thing would be impossible. From the corner of your gaze, security cameras stare at you with suspicious eyes, and your pace quickens. // // Without warning, footsteps sound up ahead of you. Before you can make any attempt to hide, a woman rounds the corner, blocking your path. She’s wearing a long white lab coat, and her black hair is swept into a tight ponytail. On her chest is a pin that reads: Professor Kujo. She pauses when she sees you. "$name," she says, nodding her head, and you swallow. "Professor," you respond, hoping that she doesn't notice anything off. "The specimen?" She asks. "Handed in," you confirm, before stepping forwards slightly, "I would love to stay and chat, but I have business to..." Your voice trails off weakly, and your muscles tense. Around the corner walks four guards. They come to stand before you and Professor Kujo, faces obscured by helmets and hands positioned nauseatigly closely to their guns. // // [[Continue->Run into coworker]]]

{ (track: 'Clock', 'stop') (track: 'Fridge', 'stop') (track: 'Lab', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'Lab', 'loop', true) } (b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[Luckily empty, the Genetics Lab is vast in size but has no overhead lights. Instead, an eerie blue glow emanates from cylinders that are fastened to both the ceiling and floor, casting a cold light on the metal benches scattered around the room. Peering into one, you can faintly make out what looks to be a beating heart, and stumble back quickly, swallowing. Lining the walls are massive screens, their surfaces awash with glowing text. One screen stands out, titled: "SPECIMEN 42." Compelled by curiosity and a growing sense of dread, you make your way across the room for a closer look. Unfamiliar with most of the scientific terminology, you skim through it without much comprehension, until your eyes catch onto a small, isolated section. // // [[Continue ->GL2]]]

{ (track: 'Clock', 'stop') (track: 'Lab', 'stop') (track: 'Fridge', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'Fridge', 'loop', true) } (b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[The freezer is wide but has a low roof, and goosebumps quickly cover your body. Frost coats every surface in sight- shelves brimming with jars, bags, and containers encased in ice. The white overhead light flickers ominously, casting sporadic shadows that make you shiver even more. Hugging your arms for warmth, you take in a breath that feels like needles piercing your lungs. Your eyes scan the contents around you, catching on the striking red labels that stand out starkly against the monochrome landscape, like blood on freshly fallen snow. //Cell sample 1 Cell sample 2 Tissue (Human) Implant: Prototype 1 (FAILURE) Implant: Prototype 2 System Nerve Implant (DO NOT TOUCH)// A small part of you wishes to browse even longer, but spending too much time in here with $specimen is unwise. Casting one final look around, you exit. // // [[Genetics Lab]] [[Entry->Explore]] ]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[Instantly, you become hyper-aware of $specimen hidden in your pocket, praying it isn’t visible. One of the guards speaks up, his voice gruff and firm. “You were dispatched to retrieve Specimen 42. Has this task been completed?” “Yes,” you reply, but your voice wavers. The guards tense, and your heart jackhammers in your chest. “You don’t sound sure,” one of them says, stepping forward and placing a hand on your shoulder. To an outsider, it might seem like a gesture of familiarity, but the grip is painfully tight. [[Make up an excuse->fumble it]] Or [[Stand your ground->swindle your way out]]]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))["My apologies," you say, your voice firmer, "I've been dealing with ill health." The guards exchange skeptical glances before crowding closer. "Ill health? Yeah right. You wouldn't be allowed into the building with ill health." Sweat begins to drip down your forehead, and the atmosphere grows tense. You feel like a rabbit staring into the jaws of a wolf, every instinct screaming at you to flee. In a last-ditch effort, you break into a run, sprinting past Professor Kujo and rounding the corner. Behind you, the guards shout and spring into action. Panic fuels your frantic pace, but their footsteps grow louder. The guards seize you with unrelenting force. Despite your desperate struggle, they restrain you easily. Your efforts to save $specimen prove fruitless as it is quickly confiscated from your grasp. Now, your fate rests in the hands of [[your boss->To boss]].]

{ (track: 'Alarm', 'stop') (track: 'Outside', 'stop') (track: 'Clock', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'Clock', 'loop', true) } (b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[Your boss is a man with broad shoulders, sunken eyes, and a stance that towers menacingly over anyone who dares to contradict him. He gazes down at you with a cold, unyielding stare as you are dragged to your knees before him. There's no pity in his eyes, no hesitation—just a calculating ruthlessness. You have two choices. [[Hand the specimen in->Hand animal in]], or [[resist and go to prison->Prison]]. Fate has abandoned you to the cruelty of reality.]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[You compose your face into a firmer expression. "The specimen has been handed in using the appropriate measures," you state, standing taller. "I can vouch for that," Professor Kujo interjects, and you turn to her in surprise. She stares at the guards with a frown, and after a tense moment, the hand on your shoulder is removed. The guards exchange glances but say nothing more. They shuffle past you both, continuing down the hallway. Professor Kujo turns to you, shaking her head. "They never listen, always walking around as though they own the place," she sighs, giving you a light pat on the shoulder where the guard had gripped you. "See you later, alright?" she says with a smile. You grin back, muscles finally relaxing, and continue on your way. // // [[Continue->office]]]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[Your office is, to put it simply, bland. The small, windowless room carries the lingering scent of rubbing alcohol. A white desk is pushed against one wall, accompanied by a tall cabinet on its left side. Beneath the desk is a set of drawers. You recall the letter's instructions clearly: // // //To escape, you need to retrieve your reality manipulator. It’s in the third drawer down under your desk, back at the lab.// // // Working quickly, you fish out the keys from your jacket pocket. The drawers unlock easily, and there it is—your reality manipulator. It resembles a remote control, thin and covered in buttons. Just as you slip it into your pocket, a voice rings out behind you. "Freeze!" You swivel sharply. It’s one of the guards from before—you recognize the badge on his uniform. He stands in the doorway, hand resting on his gun. Your gut lurches. Just when you thought things were going well. // // [[Talk to him->convince]] or [[Try to run->fumble it2]]]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))["I knew you were acting suspicious back there, and I was right!" His voice is young, likely early twenties. If you handle this correctly, you might be able to convince him to let you go. You raise both hands, feigning innocence. "I was just going through my drawers?" He snorts, nodding towards your pocket. "Reality manipulators must not be kept on your person. That’s the rule." "So?" you ask, fighting the urge to pat your jacket to ensure it's still there. "So..." the guard hesitates for a moment, then asserts, "Hand it over. And the Specimen, wherever it is." "But I already handed it in," you try, but he isn't convinced. "We both know that's a lie," he says. You take a deep breath, exhaling slowly. The guard clearly isn't going to believe you, so you need a different tactic. Maybe, just maybe... You can get him on your side. Slowly, you move towards the storage room. It's a small, cramped space that smells like dust and old paper, but it's your best bet. The guard watches warily as you push open the door, gesturing for him to go in ahead of you. // // [[Continue->convincee]]]

{ (track: 'Clock', 'stop') (track: 'Alarm', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'Alarm', 'loop', true) } (b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[Unsprisingly, piercing alarms blare shortly after you squeeze into the ventilation system. It's cramped, cold, and dark, but you both push through the ache in your limbs, moving as swiftly as possible. The sound of your heartbeat pounds in your ears, and sweat gathers on your forehead. Two potential escape routes lie ahead. // // [[Waste shoot]] or [[Drains]]]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[Nearing the edge of the building, you are faced with a crossroad. One direction definitely leads to the waste shoot, but the other is a complete mystery. Go [[left]], or [[right]]?]

{ (track: 'Alarm', 'stop') (track: 'Outside', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'Outside', 'loop', true) } (b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[Pushing past one last metal grate, you tumble forwards into the drains with a painful thud. Cyrus follows shortly afterwards, and the overwhelming stench of moss, dirt, and sewerage fills your lungs. Coughing, you shove down the urge to gag, before glancing up your surroundings. Unfortunately, in your haste to leave, you hadn’t considered how the other guards would think to pursue you. Thus, when you raise your head, an icy chill runs down your spine at the sight of multiple guns pointed your way, ready to shoot. You’re surrounded. // // [[Give Cyrus a chance to get away->give animal to guard]] Or [[Surrender->surrender2]]]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[You know what you must do. Rushing forward, you feign an attack on the nearest guard. Cyrus shouts in alarm, surging to pull you back, but you're one step ahead of him. Quickly, you slip $specimen and your reality manipulator out of your pocket. Turning swiftly, you shove them into his chest, swallowing the paralyzing fear settling in your gut. Understanding dawns in his expression, and you pivot back, gripping the nearest guard despite their attempts to subdue you, using them as a shield. The other guards hesitate to shoot, a fatal mistake. Within moments, you've cleared a path and Cyrus surges ahead, not looking back. [[Continue->you die]]]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[Letting out a long breath, you close your eyes. You can feel Cyrus’s eyes on you, and a lurching guilt swirls in your gut. As much as you want to escape, you don’t want to die. You raise your hands, and the guards rush forwards. Now, your fate rests in the hands of [[your boss->To boss]].]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[The deafening crack of a gunshot echoes through the air, and you buckle forward as searing pain explodes in your chest. The agony is immediate and overwhelming, radiating through your body like wildfire. Your vision starts to blur, colors and shapes merging into a disorienting swirl. A cold, sinking realization settles in your heart. This is the [[end->End]].]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[Pushing past one last metal grate, you tumble forward, landing on the floor with a painful thud. Disoriented and in a rush, it takes a moment to realize you've gone the wrong way. You've ended up in a clean, empty, white room. Well, almost empty. Standing before you is Professor Kujo, her eyes wide and jaw slack. Cyrus tumbles out behind you, coughing. “$name, I think we’ve—” He abruptly falls silent as the room fills with palpable tension. “Professor, this isn’t what you think—” you begin to reason, but the betrayal in her eyes quickly hardens into a stern glare. She raises a hand to her ear. “They're in room 4B,” she says. Before you have a chance to flee, guards barrel into the space, weapons drawn. // // [[Give Cyrus a chance to get away->give animal to guard]] Or [[Surrender->surrender]]]

{ (track: 'Alarm', 'stop') (track: 'Outside', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'Outside', 'loop', true) } (b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[Tumbling forward into a heap of waste bins, you land painfully amidst plastic, glass, and cardboard. Cyrus follows closely behind, and the overwhelming stench of chemicals, blood, and vinegar fills your lungs. Coughing, you suppress the urge to gag and glance around. Just as you’d hoped, you’re outside the laboratory. There are no guards in sight, and the fencing is only a few meters away. There’s no time to lose. Ignoring the growing number of scratches on your limbs, you push yourself out of the bin and onto the ground. The reality manipulator won’t work within the confines of the laboratory, so there’s only one thing left to do. Glancing over at Cyrus, you notice a wide grin on his face. Fueled by adrenaline and the rush of success, you hurry to jump the fence, landing on the other side with steady feet. Cyrus lands beside you, and you fish the reality manipulator out of your pocket. $specimen shifts once more, and you can’t help but let out an airy laugh. Grabbing Cyrus’s hand, you power up the device. You've done it. You've escaped. // // [[Go again?->BEFORE]]]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[ As you pull over onto the curb, your muscles fight against you. It’s as though you haven’t fully regained control of your own body, limbs working independently to your mind. Frowning, you manage to put on the breaks, tearing off your seatbelt before your hands can involuntarily start the car back up. The creature in the cage is… small. Fluffy. Quite cute, to be honest. It resembles a fox, but with twice as many legs and large, piercing, intelligent eyes. Your gaze catches on to a small slip of paper, sitting on the other front seat. It's folded haphazardly, crumpled around the edges due to rough handling. Inside, the writing is skewed and messy, smudged ink causing some of the words to appear faded. Somewhere in your gut, a sense of foreboding settles. --- //Your name is $name. The animal, known as Specimen 42, is far more powerful than it appears. You work for a government research group with plans to dissect it. But you've made a deal with it—help it escape the System's watch, and it will sever your connection to the System itself. You can trust it, I swear. To escape, you need to retrieve your reality manipulator. It’s in the third drawer down under your desk, back at the lab. Use it to escape the dimension. Stay sharp and don’t waste any time. You are always being watched.// --- [[Continue ->Page 2]]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"=XXXXXXXX=")[ (set: $specimen to (prompt: "You take a moment to let the words settle in your mind, before looking back at the 'specimen'. Vivid images flash through your imagination, of blood and guts and //dissection...// Bile rises in your throat, and your heart squeezes painfully at the thought of it, limp and lifeless and pulled to pieces. 'Specimen 42'? No... it deserves a name. ", "What do you name it?")) (b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[Though hesitant to trust the note without question, you have nothing else to work from. $specimen sits, alive and breathing, a mere metre away from you, and your resolve firms. You have two options. You can either: [[Drive away with it now, and try to cross into a bordering country ->Drive off with animal]] or [[drive to the lab, and work from there.->Drive to lab]]]]

{ (track: 'Outside', 'stop') (track: 'Dystopian', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'Dystopian', 'loop', true) } (align:"=><=")+(box:"=XXXXXXXX=")[ (set: $name to (prompt: "WHAT IS YOUR NAME?.", "...")) [[START]]]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[You steel your voice. "You are not qualified. This task has been assigned to me." The guards fall silent, and a few tense seconds pass. . . . Finally, the guard closest to you swivels around. "Open the gate!" he yells, and relief floods your veins. You drive forwards, sweaty palms threatening to jerk away from the steering wheel. You still aren't fully in control, but you can't falter now. Stepping out of the car, a dilemma settles in you mind. You could carry the cage into the building, or you could hide $specimen in your jacket. [[Carry cage ->Entry2]] [[Hide->Entry]]]

{ (track: 'Dystopian', 'stop') (track: 'Clock', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'Clock', 'loop', true) } (b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[The parking bay is startlingly empty, and your footsteps echo crisply as you make your way to the entrance. When you twist the doorhandle, a small camera blinks to life before you, scanning your eyes for a few blinding seconds. A sharp //click// sounds, and the door swings inwards, revealing a desolate corridor with striking white walls. Clinical lights illuminate the space, and the scent of rubbing alcohol lingers in the air. You shiver, walking forwards, and the door closes on its own behind you. In its cage, $specimen shifts, growling, and eyes you warily. You can either [[explore->Explore2]], or [[go straight to your office]].]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[Without warning, you break into a run, sprinting past Professor Kujo and rounding the corner. Unfortunately, you hadn’t anticipated encountering more people in the hallway. You collide with a group of four guards, the impact sending you sprawling. The cage clatters to the ground, and as you scramble to pick it up, the guards spring into action. Despite your frantic struggle, they restrain you easily. Your efforts to save $specimen prove fruitless as it is quickly confiscated from your grasp. [[Prison]] awaits you.]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[Her eyes light up when she notices the cage. Coming closer, she crouches down, and $specimen backs into a corner of the cage at the intensity of her gaze. "Such a gorgeous creature," she whispers, before straightening back up. "Well," she fixes you with a pointed stare, "I can take it with you to the holding centre." [[Agree and give up->Hand animal in]] or [[try to run->fight back]].]

{ (track: 'Alarm', 'stop') (track: 'Outside', 'stop') (track: 'Clock', 'stop') (track: 'Dystopian', 'stop') (track: 'Prison', 'stop') } (b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[Start again? [[YES->BEFORE]]]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[“A transplant of Specimen 42’s blood into a human is likely to compromise connections between the mind and limbs, removing the individual’s ability to control bodily movement. If then attached to the System, this may allow the strengthening of soldiers in interdimensional conflict- bypassing the natural human instinct of self-preservation and leading to heightened military success.” // // [[Continue -> GL3]]]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[Your heart pounds in your chest as the implications sink in. The thought of such a horrific transformation, of people being forced to fight until their bodies give in, fills you with a deep, visceral terror. Gritting your teeth, you continue reading, but your mind remains ensnared by this single point. The System… From what you can deduce, the System currently controls mass amounts of people, but has not yet achieved full domination of interdimensional spaces- why else would there be calls to strengthen military power? Through losing your memories, your own connection to the System seems to have been compromised- though you don't know how long for. Abruptly aware of just how powerful $specimen is, your hands clench into fists. If it can supposedly //remove// you from the System, and its blood can impact //autonomy//… you may be involving yourself in a conflict much, much larger than you originally anticipated. // // [[Freezer]] [[Entry->Explore]]]

{ (track: 'Lab', 'stop') (track: 'Fridge', 'stop') (track: 'Clock', 'playwhenpossible') (track: 'Clock', 'loop', true) } (b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[There are two doors nearby, that lead to the [[Genetics Lab-> Genetics Lab 2]] and the [[Freezer-> Freezer 2]]. Which do you choose? Or, you can continue on to your [[office->go straight to your office]].]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[Rushing forward, you attempt to push past the guard and into the hallway. Firm hands grip your arm, halting your movement and causing you to trip over your own feet. You crash to the ground, the cold floor jarring your senses. Panic surges through you, and fear lurches in your gut as you realize how idiotic your choice had been. The guard’s hold tightens, and you know without a doubt—it’s over. // // You’ve been caught. // // [[Prison]] awaits you.]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[“What do you know about Specimen 42?” you ask in a low voice. From the corner of your eye, you catch a name written inside his helmet—Cyrus. “Only that it’s powerful and must be handed in as soon as possible. Which is what you should be doing,” he replies quickly, anxiety evident in the tension of his shoulders. “It has the ability to remove you from the System,” you reveal. Cyrus’s eyes widen as he draws in a sharp breath. “So you... that’s what you’re doing?” he asks, voice a mix of disbelief and curiosity. You nod, watching as his mind races, weighing his options. He could report you right now, but you can see the curiosity in his eyes—you’ve ensnared him in your trap. // // [[Show him the specimen->emot 1]] Or [[Show him the reality manipulator->emot 2]]]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[“What do you know about the Genetics Lab? About what’s being tested?” you ask in a low voice. From the corner of your eye, you catch a name written inside his helmet—Cyrus. “I’m not a researcher, so that’s not my job,” he replies quickly, anxiety evident in the tension of his shoulders. He glances around, on high alert for any nearby people. “They’re trying to strengthen military power using the blood of Specimen 42,” you reveal. Cyrus’s eyes widen as he draws in a sharp breath. “How?” he whispers. “By overriding the soldiers’ self-preservation instincts, forcing them to fight until their bodies can no longer function.” You watch as the color drains from Cyrus’s face and he swallows hard. It’s a terrifying concept, and you both know it. You can see him weighing his options. He could report you right now, but the fear and curiosity in his eyes tell you he’s hesitant. You’ve ensnared him in your trap. // // [[Ask him about his life as a guard->emo1]] Or [[Show him the specimen->emot 1]]]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[“How long have you been working as a guard?” you ask. Cyrus snaps out of his daze. “Not long. Around a year now.” You nod slowly. “Was being a guard always the goal, or is there something else you’d like to do?” “Well…” he begins, casting his gaze downward, “I always kind of wanted to go into the military, but...” He trails off, the silent words hanging in the air. Then, he quickly adds, “I actually know some people in the military now. Some of my friends.” You hum in understanding, and somewhere in your chest there is a sympathetic ache. // // [[Continue->insecurity reveal]]]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[Slowly, you open your jacket, revealing the small bump of $specimen, still curled into a ball. With gentle movements, you reach into your pocket, and $specimen squirms but complies. Cyrus’s jaw drops as he takes in the sight, any previous hesitancy vanishing from his expression. “That’s the specimen?” he asks, eyes wide. “Yes,” you confirm softly. “I call it $specimen.” Cyrus takes a tentative step forward, but pauses when $specimen fixes him with a wary stare. Its many legs struggle to wrap around your arm, so you gently return it to your pocket, sparing it the discomfort. When you glance back up, you notice a small smile forming on Cyrus’s lips. // // [[Ask him if he is fond of animals->sister reveal]] [[Ask him if being a guard is worth it->insecurity reveal]]]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[Digging out the reality manipulator from your pocket, you wave it vaguely. “This right here is the key,” you inform him, “nothing can be done right now, but in another dimension…” Cyrus nods, taking a step forwards. Any previous sense of hesitancy is gone from his expression, as he eyes the device. "And the specimen?" he asks, and you open your jacket to reveal the small bump in your pocket. Cyrus smiles slightly, before schooling his expression. [[Ask him if he is fond of animals->sister reveal]] [[Ask him if being a guard is worth it->insecurity reveal]]]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))["Are you fond of animals?" you ask. Cyrus seems somewhat taken aback by the question. "Actually... my younger sister loved animals," he admits. "Loved?" you probe gently, noticing a flash of sadness in his eyes. Cyrus averts his gaze, taking a deep breath before straightening up. "She was passionate, though sometimes about the wrong things. You know how the System is. She, well..." "I understand," you say, feeling your heart ache,"why don't you come with me?" Of all the things you could have asked, Cyrus clearly did not expect that. His eyes widen with almost comical shock, his hand tightening on his in-ear. He doesn't outright deny the offer, and you seize the chance to continue. "From what I understand, you don't need to be here. You don't want to be here." "But—but that's such a large commitment! What if it goes wrong?" Cyrus stutters. You take a moment to consider your response. "I can't guarantee it will be safe, but I won't be able to live with myself if I don't at least try ." For a moment, you worry you've asked too much, but then Cyrus gives you a hesitant smile, shaking his head. "I can't believe I'm about to do this," he says. // // [[Continue->start escape]]]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))["Do you think it's worth it? Being a guard?" You ask, and Cyrus recoils slightly. "I mean... It's my job," He says, awkwardly. "Do you enjoy it?" You pry, and he laughs uncomfortably. "It's not the most interesting way to spend my time." "Then why don't you come with me? Escape the System?" Of all the things you could have asked, Cyrus clearly did not expect that. His eyes widen with almost comical shock, his hand tightening on his in-ear. He doesn't outright deny the offer, and you seize the chance to continue. "You just said that you don't want to be here." "But—but that's such an insane idea! What if it goes wrong?" Cyrus stutters. You take a moment to consider your response. "I can't guarantee it will be safe, but I won't be able to live with myself if I don't at least try." For a moment, you worry you've asked too much, but then Cyrus gives you a hesitant smile, shaking his head. "I can't believe I'm about to do this," he says. // // [[Continue->start escape]]]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[“Our best bet is the vents,” Cyrus comments, glancing up at the metal grid on the ceiling of the storage room. You nod in agreement. “When do you think is the best time to go?” Tilting his head to check his watch, Cyrus lets out a startled laugh. “Right now.” “Why?” you ask, moving closer to the vent regardless. “The guards swap shifts around this time. They’ll be less organised.” “Perfect,” you say, stepping up onto a shelf and pushing against the cool metal surface. It lifts up without much force, and you flash Cyrus a swift grin. “Let’s go!” // // [[Continue->vents]]]

(b4r:"solid","none")+(b4r-colour:(hsl:0,0,1,0.5))[Swallowing down your nervousness, you try to convey your intentions through your expression: //Come on, let's have a chat.// At first, it seems like you overestimated his gullibility, but the hand on his gun slowly relaxes. It takes a drawn-out moment, but his curiosity gets the best of him, and he steps forward, boots echoing against the floor. You flick on the overhead light and glance towards the ceiling, relief flooding your veins—no security cameras. The door clicks shut behind you both, and without wasting any time, you reach up to your ear. The in-ear communication device initially resists, but you manage to pull it out and turn it off. You stare at the guard, urging him to follow. He hesitates again but finally reaches up, removing his helmet with a swift movement. Your guess was correct. His features are young but sharp, his dark brown eyes piercing into yours. Short, inky hair spikes away from his head, and a guarded frown sits on his lips. You notice a slight tremble in his hands as he removes his own in-ear device, settling to hold it by his side with a white-knuckled grip. Now... If lying isn't going to work, what about the truth? // // [[Tell him about Specimen 42->way1]] Or [[Tell him about the Genetics Lab->way2]]]

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