In the months following the encounter at the Foundry District bazaar my mind was swirling with possibilities. My perception of the vendors fear and pride gave me so much to think about. What other emotions were strong enough to manipulate? Did I have to be physically present to perceive the energy shifts? What were the limits to the technology in my Inferno augment?
After completing the upgrades to the Ethereal augment I was not given another task immediately by the Overseers and so had some time to test my theories with regard to my own augmentation.
I decided the best place to experiment on the limits of my newfound manipulation capabilities would be the Red Light district in the northern quarter of New Paris.
Walking the alleys towards the dens of debauchery that had proliferated in the district I was greeted with the now familiar sight of gathering energy in the commoners fear centres. However on occasion I saw the energy in certain people shift from fear to something else. It wasn’t the pride of the merchant but something different entirely.
Just before reaching the first storefronts I had heard about that may have people in them enjoying the excesses I was intent on studying I was approached out of an alley by a group of ragged looking men.
Each of the men looked like they had not slept in days and brandished makeshift weapons in their hands shouting insults at me. The energy coursing through them was a mixture of now familiar fear and a new emotion I had not seen before.
Their leader was a very large man, easily twice the size of the next biggest man in the group, and in his eyes I saw a pure hatred. Shouting that I did not belong so far from the Citadel he charged and swung the bottle he clutched in his hand.
Quickly I retreated down the street, the men trailing close on my heels. Seeing one of the men attempting to light what looked to be an alcohol bottle on fire, preparing to throw it at me, I knew my opportunity.
Stopping and turning to face the men, the crimson glow of my Inferno augment illuminating the cowl of my robes, I was a demon manifest.
In the split second it took my augment to direct the heat from the flaming wick down the neck of the bottle and into the alcohol the men stopped dead in their tracks. The hatred that had been coursing through the mind of the leader was replaced with terror as the bottle exploded in the hand of his compatriot, engulfing him in flames.The screams penetrating the air and echoing down the street.
I had taken control of the situation once more and I had some questions to ask of these men.
Alexander Motus, Guardian # 51