An Unnamed Deal Part 2:

He was so out of it and didn’t know what was going on. His mind so clogged and clouded by the drug that he had no idea who he was… Or was it the drug?

“I… Have no idea.. I don’t know” He replied, his voice sounding distorted and not his own. This state was numbing and was unsure if he had even spoken at all and to who he had aimed the answer to the question at.

His, or rather Waimangu's lips didn't move, and he could actually see himself across the table replying what he had said like he was a ventriloquist.

"Fuck, man, this shit's fucked me up good." Waimangu himself said, which Trast felt come out of his body.

"They're the number of valence electrons of oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, calcium, phosphorus, potassium, sulfur and sodium." Widemann replied, lost somewhere among the three bodies. She started caressing her lower jaw and neck, going down to unbutton the top button of her shirt. "Those are the most plentiful elements of the human body. Everything we are, everything we try to do are just permutations of those numbers and a couple dozen others. The Union, Capitol, Lost Star, cultural trends, psychological profiles, artistic movements, architecture, you, me, we're just different permutations of those numbers. Other civilizations and species just add or substract a couple numbers"

She was apparently getting aroused from modestly fondling herself, which the other two felt in the flesh. He had no idea who was doing what anymore, the words seemed almost physical, each utterance affected the proportions of the world around him

He was confused as the feelings from the three seemed to combine, everything felt strange, but pleasurable. This new substance was something he had never quite experienced before, Waimangu always managed to get his hands on the good shit but this… This was a new level entirely. No doubt it would sweep the streets of Lost Star and beyond soon enough.

“I am aware… Of such physical shit” Trast replied “So whats this… Deal”

He now felt in Weidemann's body, looking at himself and Waimangu splayed out on the couches, holding the smoking sticks while the creatures thrashed around inside the beaker trying their dearest to escape. She continued to caress herself, but to Trast it was nothing compared to feeling her speak. It was as if he inhabited her brain and knew what she was going to say before she said it. The intervals between her thinking and speaking seemed eternal.

"The human brain is not quite ready to encompass.... beings to whom those numbers are completely inconsequential." She said while Trast couldn't help but be carried through her mind like a drifting entity, rummaging through the overwhelming, sometimes terrifying labyrinth of her memory. "Beings who are not the permutation of those measly integers but of fractions, imaginary and hypercomplex numbers, mathematical functions, frequencies, vector matrices, musical notes and a myriad more things."

She paused for a moment with a vacant, drug-addled expression. The contours of everything had gained too much sharpness that they began to shrink into the objects, which became amorphous masses of color and lighting. Trast was now both Weidemann and Waimangu at the same time.

"I was just preparing you to meet my contact." She said, though her words came out of all three mouths. "Do you feel ready?"

Trasts lips uttered a single word, he didn’t even realise he had said it until after he had.

“Yes” He didn’t know what she was talking about, some kind of beings beyond comprehension… Or some kind of dealer who delt in the quantum level of physics, either one was good to him. As long as he got the money and secured this deal all would be well. His body, or should he say all three of them gave unimaginable ecstasy which while he wouldn’t normally be on drugs while conducting business he didn’t care right now. Or didn’t have the capacity to at least.

"Please meet Mr. Enso."

The bright lights on the yacht had gradually shrunk until it seemed that they were entirely contained within the bulbs that emitted them, submerging the inside of the yacht in penumbra. He could see that something approached his body, though it was still outside of Weidemann's field of view, drawing closer with a series of patternless steps. Trast's sense of reality began failing him the closer the entity got, appearing and being felt as a shadow coming from one of the ends of the room.

He wasn't sure what he was even seeing it. A large black cowl hid most of its body, while its hands and face -if it even had them- were overlaid with pure white scratches, as if someone had taken his field of vision and censored it like an old celluloid reel. It wasn't bright, certainly wasn't a light source, it was simply masses of squirming white nothingness scratched on top of the figure, hiding all except vague hints - glimpses of tentacles. It was as if his brain was simply rejecting the sensorial input, blanking what it considered to be contradictory information.

Not only the figure itself was obscured from his view but also its reflections on the floor, roof, the beakers and Waimangu's ample collection of bottles.

Trasts mind seemed to snap back into a more conscious state despite what was happening around him. Whatever he was looking at certainly wasn’t human, or anything remotely human, He was sure this was something screwing with his head, something in the drug. But something told him this was real, all too very real.

This WAS the lead. He stiffened himself up and bowed slightly taking his business mind-set to the fore.

“Greetings I am Arlan Trast of Triarch Industries. Pleased to meet your acquaintance” He said in a textbook fashion.

The hooded creature paced around the room, still avoiding Trast's perception thanks to the spectral censorship that hid its face and limbs from his gaze. In a way it was much worse than being shown whatever tentacled monstrosity was under the hood - what kind of horror could compel reality itself to seemingly hide this creature? A thousand horrifying secrets seemed to be whispered through every single one of its movements.

It rose its arm slowly, slowly flailing at Weidemann and causing her physical form to be smeared in an arc all over the table not in a gory fashion, but as if she was just a fresh painting that the creature had smudged. The whole scenario had her worked up noticeably, and Trast could swear he saw her register surprise in what was left of her eye socket. The creature streched her further across the roof until her physical form seemed to begin tearing apart into information and memories, which the creature reached out for and plucked out in a completely physical way. Widemann loved it.

"I am Ensō" He said, constructing the vocalizations out of different moments of Weidemann's life and speech. "I shall represent the Others until they decide otherwise."

Trast gulped, he was afraid. If this creature whatever it was. Was capable of manipulating humans and others in such ways, of concealing itself using such advanced purposes or even alone wishing to conceal itself in this way. Placed it far beyond the imagination of Trast. This deal was without a doubt much more than he had bargained for, and yet he hadn't even got to talking buissness yet.

Despite it being far above his pay grade, the more he thought about this... thing. If it was capable of these then its species was certainly capable of technology beyond Triarch, and the fact it wanted to make a deal meant that Trast had a chance to secure something that would make his career. Hell his existence almost.

"I see" Not fully comprehending what he was seeing "I was told you wished to talk buissness"

Weideman, or an entity that might have been her in the Triarch businessman's shattered psyche sat in front of him, besides the reality hole and getting slightly blurred out by its proximity, making it seem as his very eyesight was being jammed. A black, twitching, rectangular censor bar covered her eyes while pixelation blurred her mouth whenever the words came out. Everything around him spun in and out of reality, as if Trast's eyes had only seen a thin faccade of reality before. In the space left by objects as they superdimensionally slid out of his view he could see gates, and through the gates he could see the shadowy glimpses of enormous objects cratered by concave hemispheres. There was an aura, a vibration to these monoliths that rendered them wretched to behold, as if something about them cursed upon and threatened reality. Trast then noticed that the censor bar over Kriemhild Weidemann's eyes had turned into one of these gates, staring at him with the window towards these structures tall like continents submerged in a void that walked the line between pitch black and inexistent.

Waimangu fell from his seat and remained on the floor motionless, flooding Trast with the sensation he was dying through him.

"6, 4, 1, 5, 5, 6, 1."


"It is the number of valence electrons of the most common elements in the human body. Everything that you are and can be. Every one of your thoughts and the whole of your civilization is mere neurochemical combinations of two or more of those numbers. It is the range of action attainable by organic free will.

I, however, am now free of such limitation."

Time seemed to flash forward for Trast. He now saw himself and Weidemann also on the floor, blood coming out of their mouth and nostrils while Weidemann continued talking with the censor bar still over her in a voice that clearly wasn't hers, that seemed to obscure its direction.

Trasts mind was a flurry of feelings that he honestly had no idea he could even feel, the chemical balances in his mind being messed with either by whatever he had drank or by the strange thing in front of him. He didnt even know if he was concious, if he really was on the floor or if this was some sort of drug induced vision. As for the being in front of him his own fear stopped him from wanting to know what it was, something primal told him it was for the best to not know what he was dealing with.

"Free of such limitation...?" He managed not sure if he was even talking "What buissness do wish to conduct with beings... which are limited?" He asked barely

"The universe around you is merely the interaction of those and a few other numbers. Your industries can still shape and mold the matter that is to Them nothing but a distant embryonic memory." The being said, causing time to flash forward again when one of Waimangu's bodyguards broke into the room with his gun held up, immediately alarmed at seeing the three of them bleeding on the floor but completely oblivious to Weidemann's speaking or the unseen being. "And Triarch Industries proclaims itself the most masterful of such fabricators."

"We are indeed... Our reach and capabilities are the most wide spread in the galaxy. What would you require of our expertise?" Trast asked, his composure coming back slightly, disintrestedly watching the bodyguard as if watching another person in a dream state, he could talk to whatever this thing was and watch at the same time, like his mind could simply multitask.

"Your expertise is not required, only your industry." It replied, making Weidemann raise her hand slightly for a heavily-censored holograms for what appeared to be large equipment, though the image itself was so glitched and layered it was impossible to tell what it was. "We will provide the expertise. And any resources that might be needed."

In an instant all the holographic screens onboard Waimangu's extravagant yacht lit up, from the TV to the coffee machine, displaying a fractal vision of thousands upon thousands of overlays from the stock exchange, amassing a colossal fortune through microtrading right in front of Trast's eyes.

"Our industry..." Trast looked around, his mouth open at the sheer sums of the micro transactions, those alone were enough to boost Tasts standing in the company a hundred fold. Whatever these things were they just made him the deal of a lifetime. He then closed his mouth and nodded, at least... Think he nodded.

"Very well, we will carry out the industry you require. My superiors will overlook this deal... But by the sounds of it we should have no trouble in passing it through"

"Contact Erwin Kjelle on Jangr for your blueprints once the deal is approved." It replied, time flashing forwards once again and making him see the form of a paramedic crouching over him, intubating his throat with a respirator. "The normalisation of the Great Expanse shall soon commence."

"Normalisation of the Golden expanse...?" He asked confused, comitting the name of the contact and the planet to memory. Concerned by the images he was seeing about his own well being.

"Would that be all for our deal?" He asked now on edge and somewhat eager to return to whatever normality he had come from, this dream world which screwed with his perception was finally starting to break him.

"Eight hundred billion." Disturbingly this time it seemed the paramedic instead of Weidemann had his face censored and spoke to him with the alien voice. "The terms are fair enough. Consider them final."

"I accept your terms, the deal is made. It will be reported back and I will immediately set about obtaining your blue prints and completing the task you have entrusted to us" Trast replied in as proffesional a posture and tone he could under the current mind bending circumstances.

"Give him this." The posessed paramedic said, putting an object in his hand.

The visions soon blended into one another, putting Trast back within his own body, waking up in a hospital room to the beeps of monitoring equipment. In his hand, a small and incredibly heavy cone of black metal.