Moonlit Dementia [Neutral Case File]

"҉I͟ ̧am͝ ̶t̢ho̵u͘,̶ th͞ou ͏a͡r̡t́ I̵.̡.͏.͞ R͞e҉c̷l͘ąi͜m̵ y̶o̷u͘r̵s͢el҉f̕.̡.. ҉C̢onsp̕i̶re, s̕l͞ith͟e͜r̡, ͜aņd do̢m͠iǹa͏t͜e..͞.̨ ̨Reǵa̸i͟n͜ y̵o̸ur ̷c̴o̢m͝po̵su͢re͏.̡.́. A͜ļl ͏y̡o̸u̸ n̸e̶ed.͢.͝. st̨ar͢t̨s ̡w͡i͘th me... T́ak͘e ͝m͡y͘ ҉h͘and҉.̨.͝."͞ The Familiar Voice spoke inside of Marta. The Clarity has yet to fully return to Marta. But it was getting closer, perhaps close enough. There was one thing left to do to kick off this balancing act of a tumultuous stalemate. Yet, the madness inside still stirred. Indignant of this development, the Girl remarked as she laid her chin on his shoulder to whisper. "Would you really? You may gain both the scepter and the shackle inside your puny sandbox. But that's all there is, a sandbox limited and stale after playing in the sand again and again in ad nauseam. It's not too late... Renounce her. Come back to me..."

However, as Marta was in the middle of a dilemma, the Hooded figure began to stop laughing for once. Save for the look of delirium, it was one of foreboding. Something began to crack inside of him. He could feel no pain as he watched himself begin to change...

Marta frowned. It was time to put up or shut up. "Oh, oh. Oh. All good points. But you know, it's better to reign in hell than to serve in- actually you know, my bad. That was really an overused, cliche as hell quote. Every villainous parvenu and their imitators quotes Milton out of context to sound edgy. So screw that."

Marta smiled and laughed as he continued, "Oh, oh. So I do apologize for that. I'll suppose I'll have to phrase it in a way with just the slightly higher barrier to entry. Well, all great things turn into sand, right? Like the Great Ozymandias. That's certainly trendy now. Ending strong. And if there's anything I'm good at, it's staying fashionable!"

He shrugged, "So...you know what? Screw it, YOLO. I am thee and thou art me. Proper grammar like Hemingway, except I actually like his prose, so I can't actually be too tongue-in-cheek here. Anyways, you get the point. Let's do this!"

QAS: >Accept the Familiar Voice

As the annoyed girl began to disappear in his mind, Marta began to feel a rush of clarity through his head. The veneer of madness was gone, as if drifting up in smoke as his Psyche-Terrorist appearance began to sear into reality. Near his side, the indescribable figure began to take form into a persona...

Effect:

"̡Hè̵ ̨͝͞h͘͡e͠ ḩ̛e͏̢-̨-͏-̶N̨o̵.̷͡.̡͘.̴͞ ̧̧Nơ̸̢!͠ ̵Áa̡̕a̕à̀ar͜g̵h! ͢I̵t̵͟ ̨͡h͡u͡ŕ̨͢t̨͢s̨̀!̢́ I͞t ͟h̴͘u҉̨r̸͜t͞͏s!̨ ͢҉Ì҉t͘͜͞ ̵́͞h͏u̢rţ̕s̕!͡ ͜͠I͡-̕͝-̷̵͡I͠ dòn͡'̀t͠͞҉ ̕͝w̛͞a̧n̵̴̨n̕a̡̢ ̡d̷͜͞i̛͘-̸-̧H̷͘͡e̕ ̡̨͘h̵͜e.̧̕.. ̶H̀͝͡A̴ ͏̸H̶͢A̢ ҉͏HA̛ H̴A̛!́͞ ̴I͝ ̀f̵͜éè̵̷l l̀҉ì͝k̢͞e̢ ̸̸̶I͏̸͝'m ̡͠a̵̡b̷o͞u̵̡̡t ̀͞t̛̀͜o̕͢͏ ̸̕b̢͘͝l͘̕o͝w͝! ͜I̶͢t͢͠'s͘͜ ͠s̛o̷ ̵͠d͘͘͠a͝͏͘m̵ǹ͞ i̵n̷͟ţơxi҉ca͢͠t̕͜i̡n͝g͝,̵̡͘ ̴͡ś͢o ̛go̶o̷̴͞d̸.̛.͏.̷ ̵̡Á-̸͝à̛r̢̀e̸̶̕ ̸̵y͏-̛̕͘y̸-͡o̷͠u͏ ҉̵w̧̛̕-̧́w͟a̧͜t̵̢ć̕͝h҉͡i͟͏ng̵͞,͢͜ ̧̧͝M-̨M̸҉o̷mmy̴̨?̛"͝ The Demented Tweaker screamed rabidly before following up with the same incessant giggling and laughter that characterized his demeanor. His jaundiced-like eyes were growing brighter as were the lesions and scars on his skin. He spasmed and fell face first to the dirt to Raidou's disturbed face as the body began to twist and crack even more as the seconds ticked by. She has never seen anything like this. What was even going on with this City? It was a gross understatement for the words "far more than she bargained for".

His very joints were beginning to stretch and even turn to disturbing angles before finally snapping. His smiling face was facing upward while his body was face down. Perhaps worst of all, he was smiling at them in joy of his moment of enlightenment. But there were no screams of pain, only the continued laughter into the night sky. It still wouldn't stop when a metallic needle pierced through his back from the inside. It dug out of the skin and the shirt as if trying to probe around before finally bursting the rest of the body out through the tight and small opening, leaving behind the bloody shell of his former self.

Demented Dispenser, Level 10:

This was sick, this was fucked up! Wicked watched in horror as the junkie writhed on the ground and his limbs knotted together like freakin' pretzels. She wanted to fuckin' spew. And what popped out the other side wasn't human anymore.
"HOKAY, when I said splash zone this isn't what I fuckin' meant...!" she gasped, coughing as the Cherry Bitch from earlier tried to come back and say hello. She lost her nerve. All that built-up rage fled into disgust and terror. That could've been her if someone decided to screw her over. The witch spit and wiped her mouth as she gagged. She was TOTALLY gonna get fucked up after this was over, no way normal sleep was ever gonna freakin' happen in this lifetime anymore. But it had to die. This thing had to die.
"*A-ack hack* HOLY SHIT kill it with fuckin' fire...!" Wicked took what was left coursing through her and drew it into her staff, holding it out before discharging it in a piercing beam of pure mana.

Wicked's Stats:

Action:

Wicked's Passives:

Rampage watched the person fall down and start to twist and distort, she thought she should be sick, she thought she should be disgusted, she thought she should be reacting much like Wicked was now, but instead as the creature burst out of his back, Astarte seemed to be excited, The tweaker was tough sure, but he was human. This thing that came out of him, it was a demon, it was stronger, and Rampage could feel her blood calling out for battle as she looked at it and she actually smiled "Wow...didn't think you could get uglier....lets see if you at least got tougher...." she smiled even more as she was getting worked up at the thought a a more interesting fight.

Rampage's Stats:

Action:

Rampage's Passives:

The blast of wind came out less like a gale and more like a shockwave, slamming the pill monster into a tree. Patricia's hands were shaking but she looked down at her staff, then at the demon lying on the ground. The witch twisted her stave in her fingers before slamming it into the ground with another crack and a shatter of her handcuff, the magical circle appearing and supercharging her veins with pure energy. She didn't wanna hate this punk for being desperate enough to take anything that would make the pain stop, she knew what that was like. But the difference between them was she let herself self-destruct, she didn't bring other people into it. Now someone was dead and probably his old self too. So she'd give her ultimatum.

Wicked's Stats:

Action:

Wicked's Passives:

With a strange, but actually sane-sounding cackle, a woman with blacked-out features quickly descended upon Marta. He almost screamed as an incomprehensible blanket of emotions, hate, anger, fear, vengeance, fell upon his  sane, but now overly sensitive mind.

After a bit of more screaming, the figure fell upon the ground, quite simply picked up Marta into a standing position, and slapped him across  the face with some sort of fan. The screaming stopped entirely as Marta's costume modestly transformed, with his veil replaced with a subtle mask.

"Ah, yes. I must apologize for that unfortunate disruption. I will seek to vocalize more useful information from this point on."

Marta quickly jumped behind all of the beefier fighters, before taking a look at the demented tweaker. "Hm, I wonder what you're actually good at..."

Normie Marta, Level 7:

Action:

Wicked was just about ready to completely annihilate the tweaker-turned-demon, she didn't give a shit, he fucking asked for this! But before her rage could explode and turn into power it shot a barrage full of needles at them and hit a different kind of nerve. She threw her arms up to protect herself but felt the pinprick, looking down to see something draining from the syringe into her. With a horrified look she ripped it out of her skin. Too little too late.

...it was a really... familiar feeling.

Patricia felt her brain numb and disconnect from her body, she felt the emptiness in her skull. The drugs took everything away like they always did. Everything was muted. Patty's head hung down as she swayed on her feet in the wind and rain. Her eyes weren't focused because they couldn't be. Her thoughts went in circles and died in her head. No more pain, no more hangups, just the feeling of being dead on the inside and the outside. Her mind struggled to think and put ideas together so she could get a basic understanding.
"...nnnnnnnnmmmmm...." Her hand twitched and she dropped her staff. It weighed a million pounds. It drew up slowly to rub her numb face but she was locked inside. Locked inside a body that didn't wanna cooperate and a brain that didn't wanna think straight. Patty didn't wanna die. She didn't want anything, wanting things was broken. She was okay as long as she was fucked up.

You're gonna die.

"...nnnnnnoo'm noooot... jus'.... ffffff'ckin'.... I'unnoooo......"

You're gonna die if you don't do something.

"....it'sokay, wha'ever, psssssshhhhh...."

Better do something before you die.

Wicked let her hand swing away from her face, her head rolled listlessly to one side as it rolled on her neck. She looked around. She forgot where she was. Everything was so hard, she didn't like it when it got hard, that's why she did the drugs and she didn't have to care. Nobody else cared so why should she? Fuck it, fuck everything, she didn't have to care, she didn't have to do anything. Her inner voice pulled her anyway, it told her to act. Patty didn't wanna do it. Her body didn't wanna move and that was okay. [i]It's not okay. It wasn't okay, she had to do something. You have to win this fight. She couldn't lose here or it was all over. The witch took slow, loping steps like a zombie to the fallen clown, slumping to her knees when she was next to him. Every step was murder, it was hard, she didn't wanna do it. Everyone else should do it for her, they should just let her get fucked up. They didn't care.

"Heyyyyy... you gotta get up... fffff'ckin'.... w'ke up, you gotta get up..." The witch prodded the clown with a limp arm, the bead nestled in her other hand. He could do it for her so she could stay fucked up.

Wicked's Stats:

Raidou Kuzunoha the CCXIV Tension:

Action:

Wicked's Passives:

Rampage watched as the tweaker turned demon started to attack everyone, everyone but her it would seem as one of their number fell and Wicked....Wicked seemed to get a dose of drugs and was apparently high as hell at the moment. "HEY WICKED snap out of it, you want to end up like the damned tweaker? your better then that" she called to the Witch "As for you you damned piece of shit, no one needs what your giving out..." she said at the demon as she rushed forward lashing out with a series of blows.

Rampage's Stats:

Action:

Rampage's Passives:

Doctor Fate groaned as he got to his feet. This was all going downhill fast. It had been going so well too! He wasn't gonna die in the forest over some drugs! Especially not dressed as a wizard. God, was he going to die larping? Somehow he thought that'd make him more ashamed than dying as a Psyche Terrorist. Right. Well, obviously he had to do something about this before it got any worse. He had the strangest feeling it was really going to fucking suck though. Fate raised his staff.

Stats:

Actions: