[ There are no real silver linings or bright sides to the War; but if there were, Cash being kept busy at a frantic pace and not having time to think about how much he misses everyone aboard the ship might be one. As it is, he's shot, cut, flung off the sides of buildings, and kept at constant attention for the months leading up to the end of it all. The Mahr stand down, talks move forward, and Cash's Allied task force is disbanded. Fortescue and Wolf disappear into the aether, as he knew they would; Chance and Mattli are dead, the former killed after betraying the group and the latter killed in combat with outrageous mundanity. Alone, Cash slinks back to his apartment in New York and sleeps for what feels like weeks, only leaving for food. The sounds of gunfire and yelling haunt him whenever he closes his eyes, as much as he tries to drown them out with the wailings of electro jazz. The OSS tells him nothing, which means that they have another assignment in mind for him and haven't lined up the pieces yet; it's only a matter of time.
Finally, a former friend reaches out — we should get lunch, catch up, weren't you in Europe? — and Cash reluctantly agrees to meet them. He should go see someone, shouldn't he? Except, as soon as his boots hit the elevator, something in his arm twinges. A white-hot flash of pain rockets up the bone, something he hasn't felt in years. The Celestial Interface that was once there was surgically removed but, for some odd reason, it feels present. ]
What the...?
[ No sooner has he brought his arm up to stare at it, in blank confusion, than something in his vision wavers and the cement stairwell around him is just... gone. The familiar sensation of being hurtled at a thousand miles per hour roars through him, his ears full of the sound of absolutely nothing, and then he —
— manages to land on his feet. Clutching his head, Cash frowns. His attire of a simple brown leather jacket, blue button shirt, and slacks haven't gone anywhere, but the green trees and scrubby grass? The rough wind? That's new. For a second, he wonders if his dream magic has gotten away from him, but no amount of trying to control things works. Instead, rubbing his forehead, Cash heads for the road he can see in the distance. With any luck, it will lead to a town and he'll get there before he collapses from the exhaustion of... traversing the Void? Is that what just happened? It seems unlikely, at the very least, but here he is. Walking alone in a strange place, grateful that he was wearing shoes when it happened. ]
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Finally, a former friend reaches out — we should get lunch, catch up, weren't you in Europe? — and Cash reluctantly agrees to meet them. He should go see someone, shouldn't he? Except, as soon as his boots hit the elevator, something in his arm twinges. A white-hot flash of pain rockets up the bone, something he hasn't felt in years. The Celestial Interface that was once there was surgically removed but, for some odd reason, it feels present. ]
What the...?
[ No sooner has he brought his arm up to stare at it, in blank confusion, than something in his vision wavers and the cement stairwell around him is just... gone. The familiar sensation of being hurtled at a thousand miles per hour roars through him, his ears full of the sound of absolutely nothing, and then he —
— manages to land on his feet. Clutching his head, Cash frowns. His attire of a simple brown leather jacket, blue button shirt, and slacks haven't gone anywhere, but the green trees and scrubby grass? The rough wind? That's new. For a second, he wonders if his dream magic has gotten away from him, but no amount of trying to control things works. Instead, rubbing his forehead, Cash heads for the road he can see in the distance. With any luck, it will lead to a town and he'll get there before he collapses from the exhaustion of... traversing the Void? Is that what just happened? It seems unlikely, at the very least, but here he is. Walking alone in a strange place, grateful that he was wearing shoes when it happened. ]
Shit, [ he sighs. ]