act47side

Once the exhibition opens, and thousands of exhibits fly into the sky, all the 'secrets' and 'illicit transactions' won't matter anymore.

Every one will know that it was Gordon Tannen who lit the fire under Propeller Paradise. Not Rhine, not D.C.

Warning! Terran approaching!

What's that sound?

Don't blow it up... might be somebody... below...

Don't try to... talk... way out of...!

...Oh...!

Gordon Tannen looks up in the smoke and dust as he forces his teary eyes open, trying to see just what is going on.

A familiar figure descends amidst the rubble and dust, her legs flailing wildly. He just ordered her arrest several hours ago.

They are only about ninety centimeters apart, both their brains working feverishly to process the situation.

Time itself feels frozen, as Gordon and Ferne stand off against one another, scrambling to take in each other's expressions.

(They really blew it up! Where the hell am I, anyway? This place isn't on my map! There was a hidden door in the ring corridor?)

(And why am I staring at Tannen right now? Was this a trap? But why is there such a look of surprise and shock on his face?)

(Are these exhibits on the walls?)

(Wait a second... I've definitely seen these Arts units at the street stalls when I got dragged into the black market by the Sarkaz. And that hat over there—isn't that standard issue for the Zhayedan in Sargonian tombs...?)

(Shoot, is it too late to pretend I never saw any of this?)

(Oh no, please don't hit the high-explosive Originite grenade, or this entire pod goes up in smoke!)

(Dammit, it's been one thing after another since this fake guide came to Propeller Paradise!)

(Is she Rhine's enemy, or Nasti's spy? She ruined my plans once at the Vivarium, and now she's doing it again!)

(What's she looking at? The active Originium storm guide beacon, or the Zhayedan's witchcraft helmet? Shit, she recognizes these!)

(What's she gonna do with the dirt on me? Is she gonna sell it to someone? If Nasti or Gustave find out...)

The delayed gravity pulls Ferne sharply downward. Gordon has no time to save his collection; all he can do is watch as the Feline approaches rapidly.

The distance between them disappears, as do the complicated thoughts flashing through their minds. As they await the impending impact, there is only time for them to say a single word—

Shit...