Chapter 4: Preparations

The drive to my place is uneventful, as Elliot seems to be one of those drivers who prefer focusing on the road rather than making small talk. He strikes me as a quiet, pensive person, and I can't help but wonder what goes on in that beautiful head of his. I am more than happy to ride in silence; just sitting next to him is enough to make me feel fulfilled. I know my goal is to find the secret route to maybe escape this world, but if I died now, I think I would be ok with that.

Looking at Elliot, it occurs to me that if there ever was a person who deserved to be called an angel, it's him, not Marina. He even smells like an angel. I never thought to imagine how he might smell, but somehow, he smells even better. He smells of soap, of lilies…

“You’re unusually quiet. Care to share your thoughts?” Elliot interrupts. I guess I was wrong about him being a silent driver.

“Uh-” My mind is torn between making something up or being awkwardly honest. Would Marina say that she’s happy to ride in a car with him? Probably not. She’s done this so many times that it wouldn’t be special for her, but for me…

”I’m just happy to be here, I guess.” I go with honesty, choosing to treasure the time spent with Elliot. Whatever happens tonight, I want him to know how I feel.

“Is that so?” He says, the car halting at a stoplight. “You should get some sleep before the mission; you’re being weird.” He laughs softly, clearly joking. I think he appreciated the honesty.

“Ouch, is that all I get for being vulnerable? Shouldn’t have said anything.” I fake offense for a couple of seconds, but then I laugh as well, the air between us a bit lighter than before.

The car moves again, and I try to ignore how my hand twitched for a split second between laughs; it wanted to reach for him. If I were talking to one of my friends, I would definitely smack their shoulder lightly as a sign of affection, but this is Elliot we’re talking about. I don’t think my heart can handle touching him right now.

After a few comfortable moments spent in silence, the car pulls up in front of Marina’s apartment. The ride could have used a couple more turns, in my opinion, but I mustn’t get greedy. I’ll meet him again soon enough. I exit the car, and as I turn to close the door, Elliot leans over the passenger’s seat. His eyes lock with mine from behind his glasses, and his melodic voice addresses me.

"I'll pick you an hour before the mission. Be ready.”  I hold his gaze, but my heart skips a beat. I try my best not to flinch and silently show him a thumbs up, praying to the gods I’m not madly blushing right now. His lips curve slightly in amusement, and he takes the wheel once more. Did he notice?

He drives off, and I'm locked in place. God damn that man, I really like him. I force myself to walk, and while I make my way up to Marina’s place, I can’t help but muse about his backstory. In one of the routes, Marina mentions that he has albinism and that, because of everything it entails, he’s often sick or unable to carry out the more physically challenging missions. He’s usually left to handle paperwork while Marina beats the bad guys up. I guess that’s why she’s the one called an “angel” instead of him; he barely steps out of the precinct as it is.

The game presents him as an ambitious officer, hoping to become a detective before his body gives out on him. Apparently, he's incompatible with augmentations, so he tries his hardest to go by without them. He knows full well how tonight’s performance will affect his future, so he tries to stop Marina from doing something stupid, and yet he ends up paying the price for it. I imagine there’s not much he could have done to stop her, though.

All this to say, he may be physically weak, but he's not that helpless. Marina doesn’t spend too long thinking about Elliot in the game, but when she does, it’s clear that he is strong in places that Marina could never be. He is level-headed, earnest, and he is definitely the brains of their little duo. Marina would not have gotten far in her career without him.

However, I never understood why, despite all her claims of wanting to find him, Marina completely forgets about him when she’s around any of the love interests. Suddenly, she’s all puppy-eyed and not nearly as strong as we are led to believe. Damn writers.

Opening the door to Marina’s place reveals the same pastel-colored apartment I woke up in earlier, unchanged. Plopping onto the bed, thoughts of Elliot still plague my mind: why wasn’t he a love interest? He has a large following, he appears in the cover art, he seems to be central to the plot of the game, and yet he never reappears in any route after going missing, only being mentioned in flashbacks.

The more I think about it, the more certain I grow that he is the main character of the secret route I’m supposed to find. And if he is not, then I don’t care; I’m still going to pursue him AND find the damn secret route. Anyway…

A few minutes pass, and I realize: I’m not really sleepy. That whole “I’m tired” charade was just something to get them off my back for acting unlike Marina’s usual self. I can think of other, more productive ways to use this available time before the stakeout, starting with... Well, of course, my favorite thing to do at other people’s homes: snooping through their things.

I approach Marina’s desk, where a cute pink laptop sits. Turning it on, its screen prompts me for a password. Of course. We never touch Marina’s stuff in-game, but somehow, this small interaction comes with the realization that, in this world, Marina is not just a character: she’s a real person. She has real likes and dislikes, people that she loves. So do Commissioner Grayson, Elliot, and the rest of the characters. I start to think that, if I die here, I might die for real. No restart game, no extra lives…

I shake the thought from my mind. I may have some time, but I don’t have that long before Elliot comes back. I must focus. The password to her laptop must be something important to her. What are the chances it’s written somewhere around here?

Rummaging through the desk shelves, I find the glowing notebook and a smaller, black notepad. I didn’t notice at first, but the notebook seems to have other entries besides Marina’s letters. Quickly riffling through them, I find Marina had written some of her thoughts on the love interests, but no password. I’ll revisit those later, when I actually have to deal with them.

The small black notepad, however, is a winner. It has passwords to almost all of Marina’s services. Is she a bit of a paranoid? The type of person who doesn’t save the passwords on the browser in fear of a hacker attack? Or maybe this was her backup in case she forgot something. In any case, I’m grateful for Marina’s antics as I search for a password to her laptop. Written a few pages in, I find it.

Laptop: cutiepancake

Such complexity of character. Ok, maybe I’m being a bit of a hater, a laptop password doesn’t need to be that complicated. Mine is: “heart”. Just “heart”. Sometimes simplicity is best.

Searching through her laptop’s contents reveals just your average girl shenanigans: her browser history shows she’s visited astrology websites, makeup and fashion videos, celebrity drama articles, and the odd “firing ranges around me” or “kevlar vest flamazon”. Maybe not your average girl after all.

The search isn’t entirely fruitless, though. I’m reminded that Marina has weapons at her disposal, and knowing how to use them would help if anything goes wrong tonight. I search her closet and promptly find a safe. The handy notebook doesn’t have a password for it; it just reads:

Safe: birthday

I suppose if there’s one thing you don’t directly write in your password book, it's the code for the safe where you store your guns. But Marina's birthday isn’t hard to find; I go on her social media. I don’t have to scroll for long when I find them: a slew of messages congratulating her on her birthday. April 4th.

I enter 0404 and a few moments later, the safe unlocks. Bingo. Two white and black handguns sit in their holsters, and I see a few boxes of ammunition in a compartment below them. I pick the weapons and the ammo up carefully and decide that perhaps I should find a tutorial on how to handle them.

Time passes quickly, as I spend the rest of the afternoon learning how to safely handle the weapons from someone called “gunlover69” on MeTube. Once again, the internet proves itself to be the single best invention of mankind, no matter the world. Before long, I get a text message from Elliot.

I’m on my way. Are you ready to go?

Honestly, I don't know that I am, but this is all I get. I hope that, if I stick to the plan and never leave the car, all will be well. I really hope so.