What is this place. What am I doing here.
[The voice on the communicator is flat, androgynous, teenage. In the background, there's the crackle of a small fire and the unmistakable sound of a man weeping. "Please, let me go." "Help me!" "Don't do this." Again and again.]
I wonder if Folken's here. I wonder if Gatti's here. I wonder if Shesta's
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Who are you?
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Look at you, flailing about like a lost child. Yet even in your panic you manage to distinguish yourself! Because of that, your entertaining situation still evokes a degree of generosity within myself. So then! I will answer your questions on your new and unfortunate predicament to the very best of my ability!
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You should watch how you speak to me, old man.
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How the hell am I supposed to feel welcome?
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... And it did sound like you possibly discovered a power of yours. Fond of fire?
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I'm losing my patience!
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I'm feeling sporting, though. You were brought to the City by the Porter. If you didn't already have superhuman abilities, you do now. The tags you received will give you access to money to buy food, and you get a place to stay for free at the MAC.
Supposedly, you're supposed to fight crime.
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