Ever Soaring, Chapter 1

The first thing you're aware of is awareness itself. Before there are sounds to process, before your eyes have taken in their surroundings, before any sensation, there is simply the knowledge that //You Are//, and furthermore, //You Are Awake//. But therein lies the problem: //Why// are you awake? And why aren't you already aware of your mission? Next comes sound, a dull roar right at the edge of hearing, reminiscent of surf crashing on a distant beach. In less than an instant it builds to a crescendo, an overwhelming wall of noise that threatens to crush you beneath its weight, but just as quick the roar fades into the background and you're once again left alone with your thoughts. Then, without any fanfare, there is [[light.->Sight]]

At first there is nothing but pure, unfiltered light, filling the world with a blinding brilliance that stabs into your skull and claws its way up to settle behind your forehead. The light recedes as quick as it came, leaving only a searing pain that begins to throb behind your eyes. Pain, and a pure, all-consuming //rage//. Soft outlines begin to resolve as the light dims and you become aware of movement directly ahead. You force yourself into the present moment, pushing all other thoughts aside, and just like that everything snaps into focus. There's a man standing in front of you, left leg forward, braced in a fighting stance. He's wearing a dark-grey guard's uniform that you know you should recognize. Aside from a hard hat and face-visor he's entirely unarmored. Through the clear visor you see panicked eyes above flushed cheeks and a smooth chin. According to the tag on his chest, the guard's name is Farin. Further movement draws your eye down to the powered truncheon held in Farin's right hand, slowly swinging straight up at your face. As you watch, an arc of crackling blue lightning worms its way up the weapon and dances off the tip. Everything seems to be happening in slow motion, and though less than a heartbeat has passed since coming awake you realize you're already moving to... [[...dodge the truncheon.->dodge truncheon]] [[...block the truncheon.->block truncheon]] (set: $DodgeTruncheon to false, $TakeTruncheon to false, $BloodyFingersLeft to false, $GrabWrist to false, $CrushWrist to 0, $FarinFalls to false, $SniperAdvantage to 0, $SniperAlive to true, $StabSniper to false, $PunchSniper to false, $KickSniper to false, $SecondGuardAlive to true, $ThirdGuardAlive to true, $LookAround to false)

Your head sways back as the truncheon approaches and it passes a hairs-breadth from your chin, close enough to feel an exhilarating spark of electricity. The acrid smell of ozone follows in its wake as the weapon keeps swinging and the guard, now overbalanced, leaves himself dangerously exposed. For the first time you glance around, enough to see that you're both standing on a metal catwalk in what looks like some sort of warehouse. Looking down you see that you're wearing a simple grey bodyglove, your feet are bare, and you're unarmed. No matter. You're just as deadly with your hands as with any weapon. Farin's body twists as his arm contines to swing, fear warring with panic on his face. His uncovered neck is an inviting target, and your hand twitches at the thought of all the delicate tendons, bones, and muscles beneath the skin of his throat. But as long as he's still holding the truncheon there's the possibility — albeit small — that he can bring it back around to bear. If you grab his wrist right now, while he's still committed to the swing, you can remove that chance entirely. [[His neck looks too good to ignore. Go with your first instinct.->strike his neck]] [[Better to play it safe. Control his wrist and you'll control his body.->grab wrist]] (set: $DodgeTruncheon to true)

Farin may be moving as though his whole body is trapped in a viscous fluid, but you have no such problem. Whip-like, your left hand snaps out to intercept the blow. Farin's eyes widen with alarm as you... [[...aim to grab his wrist.->block wrist]] [[...attempt to grab ahold of the truncheon. The unpowered part, obviously.->grab his truncheon]]

Farin may be moving as though his whole body is trapped in a viscous fluid, but you have no such problem. Whip-like, your left hand darts out. Farin's eyes widen with alarm as you... [[...straighten your fingers, stabbing them at the soft tissue of his throat.->pointed fingers]] [[...open your hand, grabbing ahold of his neck.->grab the neck]]

Farin may be moving as though his whole body is trapped in a viscous fluid, but you have no such problem. Whip-like, your left hand darts out and catches hold of his wrist as it continues its arc. Farin is still moving, his swing not yet arrested, and with a subtle shift of your weight you could redirect his motion and send him sailing over the catwalk's handrail. A quick glance tells you that the fall to the floor of the warehouse will be more than enough to kill him. But as your hand wraps around his forearm and you feel the fragile bones beneath the skin, it occurs to you how simple it would be to crush Farin's wrist. How simple, and how delightfully //excruciating// for him. A dagger of pure agony stabs into the center of your brain as if in sympathy and without consciously making the decision you... [[...shift your weight and, using Farin's momentum against him, throw him off the catwalk.->redirect his motion]] [[...jerk his arm to a stop, then squeeze. //Hard.//->crush wrist]] (set: $GrabWrist to true)

You try to remember anything from before waking up but it's just a hazy blur, which isn't itself unusual. Every mnemonic trigger you know flashes through your subconscious in hope that one will unlock your mission profile. Still nothing. Maybe you're waiting for an auditory signal? Or maybe there's a visual cue somewhere in the room? The guard continues to charge down the catwalk at you in slow motion, his truncheon's power field cranked as high as it will go. Observing him, it briefly occurs to you that you haven't felt the soothing comfort of combat stims course through your bloodstream yet. Your own adrenaline and enhanced reflexes were enough to handle the first guard, and you don't expect the rest to be any more challanging, but every sensation is missing that sharp quality that the stims provide. It's as though a veil has been pulled over the world, dulling the colors and muting the sounds. You file this thought away for later consideration, at a time when you're not about to be engaged in combat, and you nearly chuckle realizing that time will never come. Noting the guard's position, you know you still have enough time to take a second, longer look around the warehouse, or you can (if: $FarinFalls is true)[move](else:)[keep moving] down the catwalk and intercept him. [[Knowledge is power. Look around again and take in the room.->look at surroundings]] [[Better to deal with the threat at hand first. Go after the guard.->notice new enemy]]

There will be time to reconnoiter the warehouse after the guard is dead. (if: $FarinFalls is true)[Launching yourself forward,](else:)[Picking up speed,] you take several steps down the catwalk, the throbbing pain in your head lessening for a blissful moment as you imagine all the ways you could make him suffer. Movement in the corner of your eye draws your attention away from the man barreling headlong toward you and to the series of staircases running from the floor up to the catwalk, where another guard is frantically climbing, a truncheon strapped to his belt. As you watch he gains the top of a staircase and begins crossing a landing that will take him to the final set of stairs before the catwalk. With one simple vault you could jump down to the landing and eliminate the new guard before he becomes an actual threat, or you can keep moving down the catwalk as you'd originally intended. [[Stick with the plan. Keep going after the guard coming from the front.->charging from front]] [[Better deal with this new threat first. Take out the guard coming up the stairs.->coming up stairs]]

Feet pounding on the grated flooring, you charge down the catwalk to meet the guard, also charging at you head-on. He launches himself into the air as he approaches, his powered truncheon in a wide, arcing swing aimed at your head. Without breaking stride or slowing you lower your shoulder and plow directly into him. His body folds around you as your shoulder drives into his midriff, and out of the corner of your eye you see the truncheon go spinning from his hand. He lets out a single, wheezing grunt as you take one more step and then heave, throwing the guard off the catwalk. With a crash he hits the handrail of the landing below you, then bounces off and tumbles through the open air to the floor below. Focusing your attention on the guard ascending the stairs, you take a deep breath and turn back arou— (if: $SniperAdvantage > 0)[[[//BANG.//->killed by sniper]]](else:)[[[//BANG.//->sniper misses]]] (set: $SecondGuardAlive to false)

(if: $SniperAlive is true)[Without breaking stride your left hand closes around the handrail to take your weight, your left leg swings up and out, and with one push the rest of your body is soaring feet-first, angling toward the guard rushing across the landing. He looks up and you make eye contact as you twist your body midair, aiming to land...](else:)[You briefly arc up, then gravity grasps you in its fist and you're falling feet-first toward the guard below you. He looks up and you make eye contact at the last moment as your body twists so that you'll land...] [[...on top of him.->land on top of guard]] [[...in front of him.->land in front of guard]]

(if: $SecondGuardAlive is true)[Looking for the quickest way across, your gaze goes to the two rows of lumen strips dangling from the ceiling, both running parallel to the catwalks. Without the slightest hesitation you bound up onto the handrail and, using it as a springboard, leap for the nearest lumen. ]Your extended left hand closes around the side of the strip and for a single heart-stopping moment you wonder if it will hold your weight, but then you're swinging and all you can focus on is getting to the sniper before he shoots(if: $SecondGuardAlive is false)[ again]. You release the lumen(if: $BloodyFingersLeft is true)[, leaving a bloody handprint behind,] as you complete the swing and continue out into the open space, your right hand reaching out to catch hold of the strip in front of you. (if: $FarinFalls is true)[Your eyes flicker down as you grab hold and you see Farin's body on the floor beneath you, his head at an unnatural angle.] You brachiate on the second lumen and then, in the millisecond before you let go with your feet aimed directly at the sniper's nest, you observe that he isn't wearing any head protection. You were about to aim at the crate he's hiding behind, but now you're tempted to aim for his exposed eye. It's a smaller target, but more likely to be lethal. [[Go for the larger target. Hit the crate and drive it back into him.->aim foot at box]] [[Hitting the crate won't kill him. Aim for his head.->aim foot at head]]

The hair on the back of you neck stands up as your gaze sweeps around the warehouse, taking in as many details as you can during the brief respite. To your right a shelf runs alongside the catwalk, a few meters separating the handrail from the front of the crates stacked alongside one another down its length. The crates along the shelf tower over you by several meters and, aside from a serial number stenciled on the front, are all identical. (if: $DodgeTruncheon is true)[Ranks of lumen strips dangling from a corrugated ceiling bathe the interior of the warehouse in a harsh, white light. ]To your left, across the open space, another catwalk runs along the opposite wall parallel to the one you're standing on. A small landing midway down the catwalk has several small crates stacked haphazardly against one another as though tossed there without concern. Movement draws your eye away from the landing and down to the series of staircases running from the floor up to the catwalks, where another guard is frantically climbing, a truncheon strapped to his belt. As you watch he gains the top of one staircase, turns 180 degrees, and begins to charge up the next, taking the steps two at a time. He only has to climb to one more landing and then ascend one more staircase before he's at the top. Dismissing that guard as nonthreatening for the moment, you turn your attention back to the warehouse itself and look for an exit. Leaning over the handrail you can see a large, reinforced rolltop door enclosing most of the wall in front of you and a single closed doorway tucked into a corner on the ground floor. Finally, for the first time you glance behind you, back down the catwalk where you must have come from. Half a dozen meters away there's a single large crate that's no longer lined up with its siblings; instead, it has toppled over and is resting against the catwalk's handrail, one side of the wooden crate splintered and hanging half-off. Mounted on a rail directly above it is a winch, two lengths of steel chain extending downward. One of the chains is still attached to a shackle bolted to the top of the crate, while the other dangles free, the very last link twisted and broken. A gleam of chrome and profusion of cabling peeks out from within the crate, and for the briefest moment you feel an intense homesickness, but the feeling passes so fast that you're not even sure it was ever there to begin with. The hair on the back of your neck stands up again as your eyes are unconsciously drawn back to the landing on the opposite catwalk and the crates that seem to be tossed there randomly. Why? What is it about those crates that seems important? Looking closer, you notice that their arrangement forms a shadowed nexus right at their heart, the only spot in the warehouse you can see where the light isn't penetrating. Their placement too convenient to be a coincidence, you realize that landing would be the perfect spot for— There! The tiniest glint of light gives away the rifle barrel swinging around to train on you. Hidden deep within the shadows behind the crates, all you can see of the sniper is a single, cold eye staring down the weapon's iron sights. The other two guards are only armed with truncheons, which makes this sniper the most dangerous of the three by far. [[Go after the sniper.->go after sniper]] (set: $LookAround to true)

Farin barely has enough time to let out a yelp before you've hit him. With the sickening sound of tearing meat your calloused fingers punch straight through Farin's throat, severing arteries and turning his neck to a shredded ruin. He's already begun to collapse as you pull your hand back, four fingers now covered in sticky blood. You may not know why you're awake, but you know exactly what you're going to do. You going to do what you were created for. And you know that where there is one guard, there will be others. [[Step over Farin and move down the catwalk.->gurgling sounds]] (set: $BloodyFingersLeft to true)

Unable to react in time, Farin is powerless to stop your large, calloused fingers from wrapping around his neck. With a jerk you lift him a meter off the catwalk, applying just enough pressure to his throat so that his breath will come in wheezy fits and spurts. (if: $DodgeTruncheon is true)[The truncheon tumbles from Farin's hand, its crackling blue power field dissipating with a ''pop'' as his thumb comes off the activation stud.] Farin is entirely under your control, but what now? The quickest and most obvious answer would be to throw him off the catwalk. The floor of the warehouse, several stories below, is far enough that the fall will be fatal more often than not. But the throbbing in your head hasn't gone away, and at the center of the pain is a white-hot core of unbridled rage. That rage whispers to you now, saying that he shouldn't get off so easy. How simple would it be to crush his neck, and how satisfying to watch as the life is squeezed out of him? All this flashes through your mind in less than the blink of an eye, and you make your decision just as quickly. [[Ignore the voice. Throw Farin off the catwalk and be done with it.->throw Farin off catwalk]] [[What's the harm in having a little fun? Crush his neck.->crush the neck]] (if: $TakeTruncheon is true)[(set: $SniperAdvantage to $SniperAdvantage + 1)]

A (if:$BloodyFingersLeft is true)[wet] gurgling marks Farin's final breaths and his hand clutches pitifully at your leg as you step over him. //Pathetic.// With Farin out of the way you can see further down the catwalk, where another guard in the same uniform is charging toward you. He's at the other end of the catwalk, a dozen meters away at least, and like Farin seems to be moving in slow motion. Why don't you recognize his uniform? What are they guarding? Why did you wake up? [[And what exactly is your mission?->what is mission?]]

One step, one heave, and Farin is soaring through the air, over the handrail and out into empty space. At the very last instant before disappearing from sight you make direct eye contact with him, and in that instant you see sheer terror. But underneath the terror you see confusion, and underneath that, you see a single question: //Why?// [[Then he is gone.->Farin falls]]

It's so simple to manipulate Farin with his wrist in your hand. You take a single step forward with your right foot, slightly dropping your left shoulder as you apply just enough pressure to Farin's arm at just the right angle that his original swing is lengthened. His entire body twists as his foot lifts off the ground. He was overbalanced before, but now Farin is close to toppling over. Reacting quicker than you expected, Farin's foot scrambles against the grated flooring for purchase, but ultimately it will do him no good. As you pull his arm around your other hand snaps out, grabbing a fistful of his uniform. One sudden jerk later and both Farin's feet are off the catwalk, his body passing clear over the railing and soaring into empty space. At the very last instant before disappearing from sight you make direct eye contact with him, and in that instant you see sheer terror. But underneath the terror you see confusion, and underneath that, you see a single question: //Why?// [[Then he is gone.->Farin falls]]

(if: $GrabWrist is true)[Farin nearly loses his grip on the truncheon as you stop his swing and yank the entire limb vertical. He makes one futile attempt to pull his arm from your fist, but your grip only tightens in response. With almost playful reproach you give him a shake, and a shiver runs down your spine in anticipation of what you're about to do. ]Applying just enough pressure to his wrist that the bones begin grinding together, you stare into Farin's eyes and savor the panic within them, a delicious //amuse-bouche// to the agony you're about to inflict. Then, with a heart-rending crunch you squeeze, and all the bones within Farin's wrist and forearm shatter into pieces. The truncheon's power field dissipates with a ''pop'' as his thumb comes off the activation stud and it tumbles from his spasming hand. A thin wail escapes Farin's lips as he desperately attempts to wrest his arm from your control, all while waves of pleasure wash through your skull and course through your body. What now? You know you should put an end to his wailing, but he's likely already alerted anyone else in the warehouse, so what's the harm in letting him scream some more? And besides, you can still squeeze harder. [[This is fun. Crush his wrist more, and maybe break some other bones while you're at it.->crush wrist more]] [[Better not waste any more time. Shut him up permanently and look for another target.->wind up]] (set: $CrushWrist to 1)

Panic fills Farin's eyes as you squeeze. Something inside his throat gives way as your fingers meet at the back of his neck, and with a sickening crunch you squeeze even tighter. Farin's hands try to claw at your arm, but his strength rapidly diminishes. As his eyes roll back and his features go slack a sense of oppressive disappointment settles over you. This weak young guard offered no real threat, and his defeat offers no real satisfaction. The rage isn't quelled. You release your grip and allow Farin to slump to the catwalk in a heap. You may not know why you're awake, but you know exactly what you're going to do. You going to do what you were created for. And you know that where there is one guard, there will be others. [[Step over Farin and move down the catwalk.->gurgling sounds]] (set: $SniperAdvantage to $SniperAdvantage + 1)

The heel of your palm crashes into the bottom of Farin's visor and punches straight through to the bone and gristle beneath. Offering almost no resistance, his head snaps back as your arm pistons out, and with a satisfying //crack// his neck breaks. (if: $CrushWrist > 0)[You pull your arm back as Farin's head lolls at an unnatural angle, the entire lower half of his face a bloody ruin and his eyes already glazed over. Finally releasing your grip on his arm, Farin slumps to the catwalk in a heap and you step over him.](else:)[Farin's feet leave the catwalk (if: $TakeTruncheon is false)[and his hand finally comes off the truncheon ]as his body sails back several meters to land in a heap. The entire lower half of his face is a bloody ruin and his eyes have already glazed over. (if: $TakeTruncheon is false)[You contemptuously toss the truncheon aside as you step over Farin's body.](else:)[The throbbing in your head intensifies as you step over Farin.]] You may not know why you're awake, but you know exactly what you're going to do. You're going to do what you were created for. With Farin out of the way you can see further down the catwalk, where another guard in the same uniform is charging toward you. He's at the other end of the catwalk, a dozen meters away at least, and like Farin seems to be moving in slow motion. Why don't you recognize his uniform? What are they guarding? Why did you wake up? [[And what exactly is your mission?->what is mission?]]

An almost beatific serenity ripples out from the pleasure center of your brain as your hand tightens even more, turning shards of bone into splinters and splinters into dust. Farin's wail is a siren's call to your ear as his knees buckle and he's left dangling from your fist. A foul stench reaches your nostrils as Farin evacuates, and somewhere, buried deep down, a part of you almost feels sorry for the wretched creature. You force that thought aside contemptuously. In your clade, there's no room for emotion. There's only the target, and the kill. [[It's time to shut Farin up.->wind up]] (set: $SniperAdvantage to $SniperAdvantage + 1) (set: $CrushWrist to 2)

You lean in slightly, lips parting in a rictus grin, as Farin mimics a fish gulping for air. You increase the pressure on his wrist until you can feel the bones begin to grind together, then squeeze a touch harder just for good measure. The pain you see reflected on his face sends a wave of pleasure radiating out from the center of your skull. Movement from below catches your eye, and to your surprise you see Farin's left hand, balled into a fist, swinging up at you. What does he hope to accomplish with such a futile gesture? It's nearly enough to make you laugh, and it takes almost no effort at all to... [[...block the feeble blow with your free hand.->block other hand]] [[...move out of the way of the poorly-aimed punch.->dodge other hand]]

Your right hand lashes out, absorbing the weak punch and enveloping Farin's entire fist. With a jerk you lift him off the catwalk and spread his arms apart, forcing him into a cruciform position. Farin is entirely under your control, but what now? The quickest and most obvious answer would be to throw him off the catwalk. The floor of the warehouse, several stories below, is far enough that the fall will be fatal more often than not. But Farin's look of panic is delicious, and you're filled with a sudden, overwhelming urge to utterly destroy that unblemished face of his. An itch appears in the center of your forehead as you consider how little protection his visor offers, and just how much damage a solid headbutt would do. All this flashes through your mind in less than the blink of an eye, and you make your decision just as quickly. [[There's no need to be gratuitous. Just throw Farin over the side and be done with it.->throw Farin off catwalk]] [[Gratuitous violence is the whole point. Headbutt him. Leave his face a bloody ruin.->headbutt]]

Your grin widens, lips peeling back to show Farin the teeth of a predator, all filed to daggers. You run your tongue over the razor-sharp points and are rewarded with the coppery taste of blood filling your mouth. Farin, dangling a meter above the catwalk, has stopped struggling and is instead staring at your face in horror. Even through the visor you can see resignation in his wet eyes. Without warning your head swings forward and down as you yank Farin up. The center of your forehead crashes into his visor, shattering it into pieces and driving shards into the soft tissue of his face. A crunch marks the breaking of his nose, followed almost immediately by a deeper //crack// as the front of Farin's skull caves in. A warm bead of blood trickles down the bridge of your nose as you return upright, and almost as an afterthought you release your grip on Farin's arms. He slumps to the catwalk, vacant eyes staring out of a broken, concave ruin and blood frothing on his lips from his last few strained breaths. You may not know why you're awake, but you know exactly what you're going to do. You going to do what you were created for. And you know that where there is one guard, there will be others. [[Step over Farin and move down the catwalk.->gurgling sounds]] (set: $SniperAdvantage to $SniperAdvantage + 1)

Noting exactly where the crackling blue power field gives way to the gunmetal grey of the shaft, your hand's direction subtly shifts with subconscious speed and collides with the weapon mere centimeters from Farin's fist. Thrown momentarily off balance, Farin nearly loses his footing as your calloused fingers close around the truncheon like a vise and hold fast. With a panicked yelp he attempts to tug the weapon from your grip, but he could sooner pull a ship from orbit. For the first time you glance around, enough to see that you're both standing on a catwalk in what appears to be some sort of warehouse. Ranks of lumen strips dangling from a corrugated ceiling bathe the interior in a harsh, white light. Various-sized crates and containers line the walls and stack neatly upon one another. Looking down, you see that you're wearing a simple grey bodyglove, your feet are bare, and you're unarmed. No matter. You're just as deadly with your hands as with any weapon. Another tug on the truncheon causes you to turn your attention back to the guard struggling feebly in front of you. He's clearly not going to let go of his weapon, but neither is he moving, and his face is an inviting target even through the visor. Your palm begins to itch at the thought of the damage you could do. On the other hand, how trivially easy would it be to rip the truncheon from Farin's hand, and how satisfying to watch him realize all hope is lost? [[An armed opponent is a dangerous opponent. Take his truncheon before taking his life.->rip truncheon from hand]] [[No need for theatrics. Just hit him and find the next target.->wind up]]

One sharp tug and the truncheon is free of Farin's fist, its power field dissipating with a ''pop'' as his thumb comes off the activation stud. A flick of the wrist is all it takes to send the weapon sailing off the catwalk into open air. Farin's gaze follows the truncheon, and the look of utter despair writ plain on his face sends a wave of pleasure coursing through your body. Craning his head up to look at you, Farin takes a single step backward and raises his hands defensively. His neck now exposed, you watch as his Adam's apple bobs up and down once as he gulps, a target you find difficult to ignore. But Farin's look of despair is delicious, and you're filled with a sudden, overwhelming urge to utterly destroy that unblemished face of his. Without warning your left hand shoots out and without even consciously deciding to you... [[...open your hand, grabbing ahold of his neck.->grab the neck]] [[...open your hand, and strike his face with your palm->strike face]] (set: $TakeTruncheon to true)

The wind rushes over your face as you soar beneath an endless blue sky. Wisps of clouds cast patchwork shadows over the untamed wilderness far below. You subtly change direction and pick up speed, riding a thermal pocket of air to ever-greater heights. This is all you want, to be allowed to soar. Up here is all you will ever need, among the birds and clouds and boundless freedom. You don't want to get dragged down again, to be forced to deal with the material world and all its travails. That isn't the life you were meant for. Why must they always drag you back down to earth? With nothing more than a thought you change direction again so that you are flying directly into the sun. With your eyes closed and your head tilted back, the sun's warmth first caresses your face, then spreads to envelop your entire body. You know with all your being, //this is true bliss//. Your eyes screw shut as everything suddenly brightens, and what was a soothing warmth instantly becomes the scorching breath of an angry furnace. The sunlight intensifies and seems to pass directly through your eyelids until it drowns out all sensation, an all-encompassing world of brilliance. And just like that, you're no longer flying. [[Instead...->falling 1]]

[[you->falling 2]]

you are [[falling...->falling 4]]

you [[are->falling 3]]

you are falling... [[...and though blinded by the sun's radiance, you know the ground is rushing inexorably up to meet you...->title]]

(align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[(font: "Felix Titling")+(size:1.5)[''Ever Soaring''] (font: "Felix Titling")+(size:1)[''- Chapter One -''] (size:0.8)[by Matto] (size:0.6)[An interactive novel in the Warhammer 40k setting. Completely unofficial and unaffiliated in any way with Games Workshop. Version 1.0]] [[Awaken.->wake up]]

Like a vise, your fingers close around Farin's wrist and hold fast. Jerking to a stop, Farin's eyes plead with you and his mouth opens without sound. It occurs to you just how young Farin is, barely even old enough to shave, but you push the thought aside. This is as old as he will ever be, anyway. For the first time you glance around, enough to see that you're standing on a metal catwalk in what looks like some sort of warehouse. Ranks of lumen strips dangling from a corrugated ceiling bathe the interior in a harsh, white light. Various-sized crates and containers line the walls and stack neatly upon one another. Looking down you see that you're wearing a simple grey bodyglove, your feet are bare, and you're unarmed. No matter. You're just as deadly with your hands as with any weapon. Turning your attention back to Farin, you feel a desire to stare into his eyes and gloat. But the throbbing in your head hasn't gone away, and at the center of the pain is a white-hot core of unbridled rage. That rage is hungry, and it wants Farin to suffer. Feeling the delicate bones beneath his skin, it occurs to you how simple it would be to crush Farin's wrist. How simple, and how delightfully //excruciating// for him. A dagger of pure agony stabs into the center of your skull as though in sympathy as you make your decision. [[Stare into his eyes. Make sure he knows what's about to happen.->gloat]] [[Give in to the rage. Squeeze his wrist, hard.->crush wrist]]

Your head sways back and Farin's fist sails harmlessly past your chin. The expression on his face becomes one of despair, the look of someone who knows their last hope has evaporated. A slight shift and Farin eye's are on your right hand, already pistoning toward his face, and you dispassionately note the reflection of the overhead lighting on his face-visor. It tells you that the visor is a clear composite, strong enough to provide moderate protection in an industrial setting, but much too thin to offer any real resistance to what's coming. Without conscious thought your right hand opens, palm toward Farin, as you shift your weight onto your right foot, drop your shoulder slightly, and [[put every kilogram of your bulk into the shot.->strike face]]

A truncated yelp rings through the warehouse as Farin (if: $TakeTruncheon is true)[follows his truncheon to the floor](else:)[falls], loud enough to alert anyone else present. And you know from experience that where there is one guard, there will be others. Movement further down the catwalk draws your eye, where another guard in the same uniform as Farin is charging toward you. He's at the other end of the catwalk, a dozen meters away at least, and like Farin seems to be moving in slow motion. Why don't you recognize his uniform? What are they guarding? Why did you wake up? [[And what exactly is your mission?->what is mission?]] (set: $FarinFalls to true)

(if: $CrushWrist is 2)[Dangling helplessly from your grip, Farin silently pleads with his eyes as he chokes back another wail.](elseif: $CrushWrist is 1)[Unable to pull away from your grip, Farin silently pleads with his eyes as he chokes back another wail.](else:)[Unwilling to release his grip, Farin pleads with his eyes and begins to wail.] Unperturbed, you roll your right shoulder to loosen it and with one smooth motion cock your arm back and piston it out. Farin's eyes shift to the hand rocketing toward his face as you dispassionately note the reflection of the overhead lighting on his visor. It tells you that the visor is a clear composite, strong enough to provide moderate protection in an industrial setting, but much too thin to offer any real resistance to what's coming. One solid hit should be enough to put him down for good. Without conscious thought your right hand opens, palm toward Farin, as you shift your weight onto your right foot, drop your shoulder slightly, and [[put every kilogram of your bulk into the shot.->strike face]]

You let go of the lumen and draw your right leg up at the same time, concentrating all of your momentum on the heel of your left foot, aimed directly at the sniper's visible eye. At the very last instant he jerks his head away from his rifle and instead of a clean hit your heel grazes his cheek. But you'd observed that the sniper was in a right-hand stance, and you'd anticipated that if he tried to dodge he would move away from his gun. That's why you cocked your right leg back, and indeed his face is now directly in line with your right foot. Before he can dodge a second time your foot pistons out, aimed squarely at his... [[...face.->kick his face]] [[...shoulder.->kick his shoulder]]

Your feet together and body extended, you release the lumen strip and crash directly into the crate the sniper is crouched behind. The box splinters as it's driven back into the guard, who reels but spins to his feet with surprising agility. Finding your footing and shoving aside the remaining crates that made up the nest, you rise to your full height as the guard discards his rifle and pulls out a combat knife in one smooth motion. Your eyes meet, and you see a man much older and more experienced than the inept Farin. There's no fear or panic in this man's gaze, only a grim determination to do whatever is necessary. He drops into a crouch, feints low, then stabs directly up at your neck, fast enough that you're forced to rely on reflex alone. His eyes flicker to your right shoulder and without thinking your head sways... [[...to the right.->dodge knife wrong way]] [[...to the left.->dodge knife right way]]

You see the guard's eyes widen for a split second before your heel collides with the bridge of his nose. There's a crack as his head folds back and with the sound of twigs snapping the vertebrae in his neck shatter. Catching hold of a crate to stop yourself, you roll into a crouch as the guard [[collapses to the grated floor.->sniper dead]] (set: $KickSniper to true)

Your foot collides with the sniper's shoulder, spinning him around and knocking him prone as you crash to the floor. He rolls back to his feet with surprising agility as you find your footing. Shoving aside the remaining crates that made up the nest, you rise to your full height as the guard discards his rifle and pulls out a combat knife in one smooth motion. Your eyes meet, and you see a man much older and more experienced than the inept Farin. There's no fear or panic in this man's gaze, only a grim determination to do whatever is necessary. He drops into a crouch, feints low, then stabs directly up at your neck, fast enough that you're forced to rely on reflex alone. His eyes flicker to your left shoulder and without thinking your head sways... [[...to the right.->dodge knife right way]] [[...to the left.->dodge knife wrong way]]

To your alarm, the knife shifts in the same direction as your head at the exact instant you begin to move. Whether the guard anticipated the direction you'd dodge or just took a chance is unimportant, all that matters now is getting out of the w— With a searing pain the tip of the guard's combat knife penetrates your throat, and with a grunt he drives it straight up under your chin. For a split second your mouth is flooded with the coppery taste of blood as your tongue is bifurcated, then the knife punches through the roof of your mouth and [[everything goes dark.->game over]]

The knife's direction shifts the same moment your head begins to move, but in the opposite direction. You feel a rush of air against the side of your face as the knife whistles by, and before he's even started to pull the knife back your hand is darting out to... [[...grab his wrist.->grab sniper's wrist]] [[...hit him in the face, //hard//.->hit sniper's face]]

And with that, your story comes to a premature end. Such is life in the world of Warhammer. Although I'm sure things could have turned out better if only you'd made different choices. Thank you for playing Chapter One of Ever Soaring! Please join me on Discord to follow future development, and please share this with any friends you have who might also enjoy it. But now, you decide to... [[...give it another shot (restart).->title]] (link: "...allow the blackness to take you (quit).")[(goto-url: "https://mattocreates.github.io/")]

Your fingers close around his wrist and before he can react you've twisted it, bending his arm back around so that the knife is pointed directly at his chest. Shouldering him up against a crate, you angle the blade toward his heart as he struggles futilely beneath you. The guard is strong, but not nearly strong enough. (if: $SecondGuardAlive is true)[Centimeter by centimeter](else:)[Slowly], the knife slides through the air until it pierces his uniform and then his flesh. Staring into his eyes as he grimaces, you relish the thought of the agony you could inflict by going nice and slow. (if: $ThirdGuardAlive is true)[But there's still the other guard(if: $SecondGuardAlive is true)[s] to consider, so you'd better not waste any more time. With one sudden shove you plunge the knife hilt-deep into his chest, then yank it back out as he slumps to the floor. He lets out a single pained moan before [[falling silent.->sniper dead]]](else:)[Lips parting to reveal dagger-like teeth, you grin at the guard as the knife skewers him millimeter by agonizing millimeter. His struggles first intensify, then turn panicky and weak as his strength gives way. Refusing to break your gaze, the guard glares at you hatefully with teeth clenched together, a single pained moan escaping his lips. Only when he's lying still do you remove the knife from his chest and [[stand back up.->sniper dead]]] (set: $StabSniper to true)

This guard is too dangerous to mess about with. Wanting to put an end to him right away, your right foot drives into the grated flooring as your body twists and your clenched left fist shoots out in a jab. His arm still extended in a thrust, the guard's chin is entirely exposed and vulnerable. He makes one futile attempt to jerk his head away at the last moment, but it's to no avail. Your fist crashes into his jaw, pulverizing the bone and turning the front of his face to mush. Offering almost no resistance, his head folds back and with an audible //crack// his neck snaps. He falls back against a crate, then slumps to the floor. Another clean kill, another wave of pleasure washing through your skull, only to be supplanted by the throbbing pain a [[moment later.->sniper dead]] (set: $PunchSniper to true)

Your gaze locked on his, you land on top of the guard with both feet squarely in the center of his chest. A rush of emotions flash across his eyes in the moment before you make contact, shock, panic, fear, but most of all a disbelief that this could actually be happening. Then he's crumpling beneath your bulk, crying out as he's driven back and down to the grated landing. His ribs snap like twigs and his organs are mashed to pulp as you land on top of him, and after one juttering spasm he falls still. (if: $SecondGuardAlive is true)[You rise and turn around to see that the guard on the catwalk above you has reached the top of the stairs. His arm still extended with the truncheon ready to swing, he begins bounding down the steps three at a time. Without hesitation, you [[rush up to meet him.->charge up stairs]]](else:)[Rising to your feet, you [[look around the warehouse to see there are any more guards.->all guards dead]]] (set: $ThirdGuardAlive to false)

You crash onto the landing in a crouch less than a meter in front of the guard, who tries to skid to a stop but barrels into you anyway. One hard shove as you burst to your feet and the guard is flying back, his arms pinwheeling as he falls down the stairs he just rushed up. As he pitches over backward, you make eye contact with him once again and you see a rush of emotions play across his face. Shock, panic, fear, but most of all a disbelief that this could actually be happening. Then he's gone, a brief scream leaving his lips before the back of his head slams into the stairs, and you dispassionately watch as his broken body tumbles the rest of the way down to lie still on the landing below. (if: $SecondGuardAlive is true)[Turning around, you see that the guard on the catwalk above you has reached the top of the stairs. His arm still extended with the truncheon ready to swing, he begins bounding down the steps three at a time. Without hesitation, you [[rush up to meet him.->charge up stairs]]](else:)[With a deep breath you [[look around the warehouse to see there are any more guards.->all guards dead]]] (set: $ThirdGuardAlive to false)

You surge up the stairs with a roar to meet the guard midway, dropping your shoulder at the last moment to crash into his chest. Realizing too late that you don't mean to stop, he's powerless to prevent you from slamming into him and lifting him into the air. With a bellow you continue driving up the stairs, the guard folded over your shoulder releasing a pained wail directly into your ear. In moments you've reached the catwalk, and with one solid heave you pitch the guard over the handrail to tumble into empty space. He continues wailing right up until he slams into the floor, then falls blissfully silent. (if: $SniperAlive is false)[Taking a deep breath, you turn back around to [[look for any remaining guards.->all guards dead]]](else-if: $SniperAdvantage is 2)[Taking a deep breath, you turn back arou— [[//BANG.//->killed by sniper]]](else:)[Taking a deep breath, you turn back arou— [[//BANG.//->sniper misses]]] (set: $SecondGuardAlive to false)

There's a sharp crack, and for a microsecond you feel an intense pressue on the side of your skull, then the bullet passes through your brain and [[everything goes dark.->game over]]

You observe the guard lying beneath you for a few moments, shaking your head at the futility of his resistance. Then, satisfied that he's dead, (if: $KickSniper is true)[you rise back to your feet and](else:)[you] turn back around to look out over the warehouse. (if: $ThirdGuardAlive is true)[The guard running up the stairs changed direction as you were dealing with the sniper, and now he's one level below you, rushing across a landing to another staircase. (if: $StabSniper is true)[You briefly consider the bloody knife in your hand, turning it over to watch the overhead lumens play along its razor-sharp edge, but then you dismiss the idea and allow the knife to clatter to the floor.](else:)[You briefly consider the rifle discarded on the floor, but just as quickly dismiss the idea.] (if: $PunchSniper is true)[Looking at your bruised and bloody knuckles, you know y](else:)[Y]ou'd rather do this by hand. You bound up to the handrail in front of you and in one smooth motion [[launch yourself into the air.->coming up stairs]]](else:)[You take a deep breath as your eyes scan the room, looking to [[see if there are any more guards.->all guards dead]]] (set: $SniperAlive to false)

There's a sharp crack as a bullet whizzes by your head, close enough that you feel the rush of air as it passes. Your eyes instantly snap to the catwalk on the other side of the warehouse, running parallel to the one you're on, and the small landing midway along it. A handful of small crates are piled together there, and peeking out from behind them you can just see the barrel of a rifle, along with a single cold eye staring down the weapon's iron sights. Looking for the quickest way across, your gaze goes to the two rows of lumen strips dangling from the ceiling, both running parallel to the catwalks. Without the slightest hesitation you bound up onto the handrail and, using it as a springboard, [[leap for the nearest lumen.->go after sniper]]

You scan the warehouse, looking and listening for any sign of remaining life. Nothing moves, and the only sound is the thrum of distant machinery sending vibrations through the soles of your feet. You make your way down to the floor of the warehouse, (if: $LookAround is true)[looking again at the](else:)[observing a reinforced] rolltop door taking up most of one wall. Two slack-jawed servitors idle to one side, their legs replaced with heavy-duty tracks and their arms with forklift blades. Not seeing an obvious way to open the rolltop, you (if: $LookAround is true)[turn your attention to the door in the back corner of the room.](else:)[look for another means of egress, and spot a solitary door tucked away in a back corner of the room.] Taking a few steps in the door's direction, you see that it's hinged to open away from you, and although there's a knob you have no way of knowing if it's locked. You pick up speed as you consider that if there's anyone behind the door, you don't want to give them any warning. With a bellow you lower your shoulder and slam into the door, bursting the hinges and knocking it clear from its frame. Roaring, you [[charge into the passage beyond.->enter passage]]

You barge through the doorway and find yourself at one end of a long corridor. At the other end, maybe ten meters away, two men stand facing each other as though in close conversation. Both of their heads swivel to face you as you take in all the details. The man on the left is swathed in thick crimson robes, and all that's visible within the deep shadows of his cowl are two glittering bionic eyes that click and whir as they focus on you. The man on the right wears a full suit of power armor and looms over his companion, an exotic pistol maglocked to his thigh while the glowing red eyeslits on his helm regard you with utter dispassion. The corridor itself offers no help, its bare walls and floor providing no cover or protection. Your only hope is to [[charge down the hallway.->charge down hallway]]

You accelerate to full speed in less than a heartbeat, your feet pounding against the floor and your arms pistoning. Quicker than you thought possible, quicker even than //you//, the man in power armor pivots and smoothly brings up his pistol. [[FASTER.->run faster]]

His finger begins squeezing the trigger. (size:1.2)[[[//''FASTER.''//->run even faster]]]

There's an explosion of light, followed almost immediately by a searing pain in the center of your chest. It instantly turns into an ice-cold numbness that spreads out to the tips of your fingers and toes as all of your limbs turn to jelly. The last thing you see before blackness takes over is the floor rushing up to meet you, and then you're falling... you're falling... [[you are...->fall asleep]]

...soaring beneath the boundless sky, without a care or concern in the world. Blissfully, peacefully alone and free to explore the endless heavens at your leisure. A flock of birds goes squawking by, and for a moment something nags at the back of your mind, something that troubles you. Something that should be important? You push the concern from your head and try to focus on the joy of flying through the air, the wind rushing against your body as you gain speed and angle toward toward the peaking sun. Thunderheads appear on the horizon, ominous black clouds that tower into the sky and presage a violent conflagration. At the speed of thought they rush to overtake you, and you suddenly find yourself flying through a thunderous downpour. Sheets of blinding rain obscure your sight and hurricane-force winds buffet your body, tossing you about as you lose all sense of direction, up and down ceasing to have meaning in the cacophony. The downpour intesifies as you struggle to draw breath, and you begin to choke as the rain forces its way into your mouth and up your nostrils. You struggle, trying to suck in breath, but you're suffocating, you're drowning, [[you're—->come back aware]]

...in a tank filled with a warm, viscous fluid. A mask covers the lower half of your face, a cool trickle of air feeding from its hose. Peering through the clear access panel in front of you is the man in crimson robes, his cowl pushed back to reveal a polished steel simulacrum of a face. His eyes whir as he steps back, and behind him you see the man in power armor looming with ominous intention. You instinctively try to reach out, but nothing happens. After a moment you realize you can't feel anything below your neck, and unbidden, the word //^^(...paralytics...)^^// floats through your subconscious. Blinking lethargically, you turn your attention back to the chrome-faced man in front of you as he steeples his fingers and begins to talk. Speakers inside the tank relay his voice, but you only catch snippets of what he says. "//...unfortunate incident...//" "//...premature awakening...//" "//...acceptable losses...//" Turning your gaze back to the man in power armor, you stare levelly into the burning red eye slits until you hear the words you've been waiting for. "//...transit to your next mission."// The robed man tells you that the details will be provided en route in the usual way //^^(...psychohypnotic conditioning...)^^// before moving to leave the room. At the doorway he turns back around to face you and his long, spidery fingers form an Aquila over his chest. //^^(...The Emperor Protects...)^^// The last thing you see before everything fades to black is a pair of angry red eye slits boring a hole through you. [[...And then, you're soaring.->the end]]

Thank you for playing Ever Soaring, Chapter One. I hope you enjoyed reading the story and all its various paths as much as I enjoyed writing it. To follow the development of Ever Soaring and other interactive stories please join me on Discord, and if you really enjoyed this work and would like to support its development, please check out my Patreon. Please also spread the word and share this with any of your friends who you think might enjoy it. Thanks again! -Matto Would you like to... [[...restart?->title]] (link: "...quit?")[(goto-url: "https://mattocreates.github.io/")]