[There's some banging, and the communicator comes on by accident. Asch seems to be muttering under his breath to himself, sounding annoyed]

Tch.

Don't those idiots ever settle down. Or have better things to do than sit around forecasting doom? Can't you what's coming, except that something's coming-- as if that does anyone any damn good at all.

And that damn Colonel's skulking around. Now there's someone who could be useful, if only he damn well bothered--

What, why is this-- Damn!

[There's a slam before the communicator switches off]

[And boy, someone sounds pissed]

Who the hell was responsible for the murders at the casino?! Own up!

[And in the background, from a very terrified familiar, there is a very quiet, whimpered 'Myuuuu']

Replica! Your damn Cheegle is following me all over the damn place! Take it back before I roast it!

...

...

...

Replica?

[Long pause]

Che.

[The communicator flips through nearly every possible setting, from voice to video to text and back to video again, as Asch executes a spectacular button mash while - evidently - attempting to fend off some unknown attacker. The words wrenched from him are garbled, strangled, incoherent things.]

Get-- damn--

[For a moment he's as he's been, albiet clutching at his chest as though in pain.

The next moment, he's quite suddenly transculent, the houses in the background visible as a murky blur through his silheouette.]

What the--

[And then he falls to his knees, as evident in the sudden shift in the camera angle. The communicator is clutched to his chest now, and it's obvious that something is not quite right here - the street beyond can be seen as though through a curtain.]

Get out of my damn head...

Damnit... replica.. where the hell are you...

[There's a crackle of static as the communicator cuts off again]

Hmph. Way too easy to be real.

[There's a click as he fiddles with the communicator. Strains of music float through the air]

...

...

I take it that "poker night" doesn't refer to the usual pokers we use to stoke fireplaces.

( Filtered to Caim )

Miasma--?! No, not quite the same, but...

Heh. And monsters too. This is starting to look like home.

( Locked to Azmaria, unhackable )

( Locked to Luke, unhackable )

...So. A bunch of people plucked from different worlds. A tiny bunch of mysterious "natives". Tell me - do the names "Yulia" or "Van" - short for "Vandesdelca Grants" ring a bell to any of you?


The one they call Caim. I'd like to speak to you.

[There is the sound of rapid key tapping. Someone is evidently familiar with buttons in general, but is taking a while to figure this device out. When he speaks, his voice is a bit flat, carrying a faint hint of annoyance.]

How do these devices run, without fontech? Without fonons?

Hrmph.

This is not what I expected from death.

[The words are mumbled and somewhat uncertain. Then there is the sound of throat clearing, before Asch’s voice grows more authoritative.]

Someone. Tell me about this place. What is it? Is it a world outside the reach of the Score?

[There’s the sound of more key tapping.]

What.

...

No.

No, it can’t be.

It can’t-- damnit he’s still as pathetic as ever! Of all the useless, stupid... useless--

What the hell are you doing here, Replica?! Did you go and get yourself killed, you worthless piece of dreck?!