The three of them settled in late that evening, sprawled on mismatched chairs, planks, and stools in the front of the tattoo parlour. The newly stacked floorboards gave the space a sort of scaffolding warmth, like a room that was mid-story, halfway between ruin and home. A bottle of something vaguely peach-flavoured sat on the table, already two-thirds empty. Boris had found it in the back of Tanya's cupboards, pronounced it "positively undrinkable," and then had three glasses.
Tanya had one boot off, her sock rolled down to her ankle, exposing the white skin above her blistered heel. She flexed her foot and winced. "Christ. My legs are gonna stage a walkout."
"You need foot rub," Olena said, slouching backwards like a queen on her plank pile throne. She held her glass up and pointed with it. "But not from me. I have claws like small raptor."
"I'll pass, thanks." Tanya rubbed her own calf instead and let her head fall back with a sigh. The muscles in her back felt like they'd been twisted like rope."Next time I say let's haul an entire floor the day after dyin', someone slap me."
"You said it in such confident voice," Olena said, raising her glass in salute. "Like little dictator with hammer."
"She did rather," Boris agreed, swirling his glass. "Although in fairness, the work was satisfying."
"Satisfyin' is different to sanity," Tanya muttered, slumping further back against the wall. Her fingers drummed against the notepad in her lap, the pages slightly crinkled from the humidity and stray tea splashes.
She glanced between them. Olena's cheeks were flushed from the drink and triumph, her socks mismatched. Boris looked serene as ever, like he could have been sitting in a greenhouse somewhere cataloguing moss.
"Still," Tanya added, quieter now, "we've earned a bit of sittin' and schemin'."
Olena raised her glass. "To scheming."
Boris mirrored the motion. "Preferably the constructive kind."
Tanya smirked, then tapped the notebook with two fingers. "Constructive it is. Let's talk tattoos. Big ones first. Go wild."
"Ah!" Olena shot upright like a goblin on a spring. "I have presentation."
"Oh no," Boris murmured with a smile.
Olena shuffled to sit cross-legged, hands forming a rough square in front of her face. "So. Imagine this. Me—mid-fight. Surrounded. No way out. Then—boom!" She mimed an explosion with both hands. "Cannon appears on my back. Glorious! Chrome! Big! It fire once and I spin like ballerina of doom."
Tanya blinked. "Olena, you want a mobile artillery platform."
"Yes!"
"No!"
Boris coughed politely. "I do quite like the image."
"You would," Tanya said, grinning now despite herself.
Olena waved it off. "Okay, okay. Maybe instead… tattoos that summon pieces of the cannon. Modular—like ones I get from System. Shoulder-mounted. Or perhaps a leg-cannon! Very centaur from hell."
"I can't tell if you're kiddin'," Tanya laughed.
Olena shrugged. "You said go wild."
"I did, and I regret it." Tanya jotted down 'Cannon summoner — modular??' and underlined it twice. "Alright, Boris. Please. Something sensible."
Boris folded his hands in his lap, expression thoughtful. "I've had two ideas. First: something defensive. A shield of sorts. Not physical, but… perceptual. Cloaking, perhaps. Makes people forget I'm in the room."
Tanya nodded slowly. "Stealth. That's doable eventually. Mind-based magic would take nuance, but yeah."
"Second," Boris continued, "is more personal. I'd appreciate a mark that can… calm people. Bring peace. Momentary, even. Enough to interrupt violence or panic. Doesn't have to change minds permanently."
"Oh," Olena said softly. "That's a good one."
Tanya raised her eyebrows. "That's actually powerful and weirdly wholesome. You want a de-escalation field."
Boris sipped. "One hopes one never has to use it, but yes."
Tanya scribbled again, then looked down at the notebook. Her notes were nonsense loops by now. "Okay. So we've got: magic cannon of doom, stealth field, and portable pacifism.
"Oooh! Oooh!" Olena yelled, lurching upright with a finger in the air. "If not certain about cannon, then maybe doppelganger!"
"Like another you?" Tanya asked.
Boris raised his eyebrows and sipped his drink. "One is more than enough, thank you very much."
"Shut up Boris." Olena shooed her hand in his general direction. "I mean like—like—clone! It have cannon arm like me but doesn't even need to use it. Enemies see that, and I run in behind and BOOM. It not even see it coming."
Tanya tapped her pen against her teeth, thoughtful. "Alright. Let's actually dig in. Say we did make you a doppelganger. What d'you want it to be good at?"
Olena lay back across the rug with her arms splayed like a dramatic crime scene. "Distraction's the big one. If it takes hits, even better. Or if it can copy moves I make. Like—if I punch, it punches."
"Mirroring?" Boris asked. "That might make it predictable."
"Shouldn't matter too much if Olena's doing the same thing from another direction," Tanya said.
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"How realistic could it become?" Boris asked. "Have you previously created humanoid Summons?"
Olena leaned forward in her chair. "Oooh good question."
"Not since—" Tanya started. She remembered her Tattoos Menu. "But what if…"
She pulled it open and began scrolling.
"I got this menu. It shows me all the tattoos that awakened that I'd done before the apocalypse started—"
"Your previous designs came to life?" Boris asked, eyes bulging.
"Oh man, I really need to catch you guys up sometime," Tanya said.
Her eyes flickered from row to row, hunting for a tattoo of a person. A large portion of her tattoos involved a human of some kind; anything from a random beautiful woman's silhouette to a beloved deceased family member. She realised quickly that the proportions didn't line up.
Why ain't there more people in here?
She didn't have time to think of it more deeply as she spotted a tattoo. The woman was watercolour, with a soft smile and dark waves. Her eyes had been so happy in the reference photo, but Tanya had noticed that by the time she'd finished the tattoo, they were more focused, like they could see out of his skin. She'd apologised at the time but he'd said it was perfect and his eyes had filled with tears.
"I found one," Tanya said.
"What it say? What it say?" Olena insisted.
Reggie Granger.
She knew his name before she even looked at the information. It had been in memory of his wife Vivian. This was the kind of tattoo she'd never forget.
• • •
Name: Vivian Granger Wielder: Reggie Granger
Type: Sentient
Level: 1
Attributes
Strength: 1
Dexterity: 8
Vitality: 10
Concentration: 15
Will: 30
Abilities
Stolen Reverie Vivian's presence disrupts focus and frays the mental defences of enemies nearby. Those who meet her eyes may be locked in a trance, overwhelmed by visions of their own forgotten memories.
• • •
"So…" she began talking whilst still skimming it. "Technically, she's a person, but it seems like she's more part of one. Like she has this ability to make someone lose themselves in memories, and her Attributes are super skewed with crazy high Will and really low others."
"Fascinating," Boris said
Olena wiggled her fingers. "That would fit mine too right? Right? Doppelgangers could have good dexterity and look similar and could dump the rest."
A sharp knock came behind them, and the door creaked open, screeching the legs of the bookcase across the floor.
They all turned.
Mrs Eceer sighed. "These barricades barely do anything with our increased strength nowadays."
She stepped in like she belonged there. A pile of plates and mugs were nestled in her arms, and her perfectly arranged hair remained untouched by the wind through the silk scarf wrapped around it. She took in the scene with one arched brow before waltzing to the kitchen to put the crockery down.
"Mrs Eceer!" Olena waved both arms dramatically. "Come. Sit. Help Tanya with tattoo plan."
There was a pause.
To everyone's surprise, Mrs. Eceer stepped delicately over a pile of floorboards and lowered herself onto the sunken sofa. She smoothed her skirt, looked straight at Tanya, and said, "I would like to hear the proposals."
Olena gawked. "What? I did not expect you to—THIS IS FANTASTIC DEVELOPMENT."
"The more the merrier," Boris chimed in.
"I'm assuming you're not merely doodling for amusement," Mrs Eceer continued, reaching for the bottle and pouring herself a glass. "Let's hear the working list."
Tanya blinked. "Uh. Right. Sure." She flipped her notebook open and ran a thumb down the scribbles. "So far we've got: modular cannon parts like Olena's Class, a stealth effect that makes people forget you're there, a calmin' field that suppresses violence—"
"Only briefly," Boris added. "I'm not trying to control people."
"—a doppelganger with a cannon arm," Tanya went on, "and—" the other options involved the Kraken and a drone from their jokes earlier so she stopped there.
Mrs. Eceer gave a slow nod. "Incoherent. But promising."
"I sorry," Olena said, affronted. "Which part incoherent?"
"The structure," Mrs Eceer said. "There's no shared logic. The effects are powerful, yes, but have you considered what kind of combinations the tattoos will offer? Can they stack? Combine? Do you want a personal arsenal or a tactical kit?"
Olena squinted. "I want both."
Mrs Eceer sighed. "Of course you do."
Tanya was already scribbling a new heading. "Right, yeah. That's a good question. Do I build each tattoo to be a standalone effect or build them as a system that can interact?"
"A swarm that highlights targets for the cannon, for example," Mrs Eceer said. "Or a calming field that activates only after a doppelganger is destroyed. Chain logic." Her wise exterior cracked with a small smile at Tanya. "I got the idea from our shared Achievement."
Boris nodded thoughtfully. "That would allow for the tattoos to be stronger when paired—can you even do that?"
"I don't even know," Tanya said.
"Wait, wait," Olena said, pointing between the two of them. "You have Ability that interact with each other Ability?"
"Yeah, here," Tanya reached over and disconnected Olena's cannon, before strapping it to her own arm. She understood how The System worked better now, and with just a thought she transferred her Ability over to it like Olena.
"Oooh, you get good at that," Olena quipped.
• • •
The Enemy of My Enemy
They were your enemy- kind of- but in the heat of the moment, you risked your life to save them anyway. Now, like it or not, your powers just seem to work better together.
Whilst allies, your powers have a 25% Synergy Bonus whilst directly helping the other.
• • •
Boris walked over to read it too.
Boris adjusted his glasses to peer down at it at the right angle. "I didn't know interactions happened outside of me and Fifi."
"Woahh, I not know either," Olena said.
"Hm," Mrs Eceer began, leaning back against the sofa and staring up at the crack above the kitchen door. "You are limited by scope with your Vitality, yes? Perhaps these links don't need to be between allies at all. You could make tattoos in parts generally—like a set."
Tanya froze. "What?"
"Say you made a…" she waved her hand through the air.
"Back artillery tattoo!" Olena interjected.
"Back artillery tattoo," Mrs Eceer mirrored with furrowed brows. She gave a disapproving, "Hm."
"You'd make it in parts?" Boris offered.
"Yes, precisely. Make the stand, then the barrel, then the bullets."
"Bombs!" Olena declared.
Mrs Eceer sighed. "Sure, bombs." She turned back to Tanya. "I'm sure you get the picture. There are likely better ways of it working. Something mechanical like that is one of the easiest to imagine."
Tanya blinked down at her notebook. "Right. Yeah. That's—I hadn't thought of doing it that way, but that could help me condense the drain too..."
She trailed off, her head whirring at a mile a minute.
Olena sighed and leaned back on her elbows. "Okay, fine. You are good at this. What tattoo you get?"
"No," Mrs Eceer said.
"Oh come on," Tanya said, laughing now. "You just helped restructure my entire concept."
Mrs. Eceer's gaze slid over them like someone scanning a menu they didn't particularly want to order from. "There are less invasive methods of enhancements."
"But if you had to," Boris pressed.
She closed her eyes for a beat and exhaled through her nose. "Something that records."
Tanya scratched her head. "Records?"
"Yes. Not in the visible sense. Not a diary on the skin. A mark that tracks information. Inputs. Outcomes. Patterns. Something that builds over time."
"You want a data tattoo," Tanya said slowly.
Mrs. Eceer tilted her head. "I want access. If others allow me to view their System data, I want a mark that learns from it. Index it. Learns behaviours, changes over time."
Olena sat up. "That's terrifying. I love it."
Tanya stared. "You want to map people."
"I want to understand the way we've changed. In a world rewriting itself every week, knowledge is the only thing that persists."
The silence that followed was reverent.
Then Tanya said, voice a bit hoarse, "I've only been thinking about effects. Damage, stealth, buffs. But that information—that's a whole other thing."
"You've been designing weapons," Mrs. Eceer said. "Try designing tools."
And with that, she sipped her drink and resumed absolute silence.
Tanya's pen didn't stop for five minutes.
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