O' partigiano, portami via

39:34/45:00 local time, 8:40, October 16th universal time, somewhere north of Valence, Alecto-b
2 days since escape

I still can't believe I'm here, that I'm not still stuck in that slice of hell, working myself to death. It feels like it was mere moments ago that I was contemplating when I would expire from overworking, when my beloved would bury me, when my everything would be lost to gods and history.

All of that doesn't matter now though. Open air fills my lungs once again. I see now that all is not lost, I feel something new finally-the tiniest bit of freedom now that I've escaped. My beloved, my dear beloved, he did not lie to me. Even with our neural-augments still attached, grace and wind have returned to my step. Even with death looming over us, marching our way with rifles and hard suits, I can at least die with meaning. I can at least die not for Turing's loathsome preservation, but for myself.

I suppose I shouldn't celebrate now though. They can still track us while we have our augments attached, and they almost certainly have noticed our absence by now. A squad of IPS bloodhounds, gods forbid a mech squadron, will certainly travel faster than we can on foot.

We've settled in an abandoned mining settlement, where we'll sleep (god, the feeling of just writing that down is indescribable) after we excise our neural implants. The process won't be easy-neither of us have any extensive medical knowledge-but the payoff will be worth it if we can survive. If I can finally rest, finally find some sort of peace, it will all be worth it.

-Theodosia Adamis, of Alecto-b

15:33/45:00 local time, 15:32, October 17th universal time, somewhere north-west? of Valence, Alecto-b
3 days since escape

Words cannot describe the feeling of eight full hours of sleep. Gods, I thought I would never rest again while I was in that factory. Damn IPS and their ends and means, none deserve to have their peace, their mind robbed of them like those still toiling in these systems.

All is not completely well though, we're still weary from the aftereffects of the makeshift surgery we had to perform last night. It's a little difficult to walk straight, and my head hurts like hell. He's suffering much the same, but it's gotten better over the course of the day.

I can't write long though. IPS bloodhounds are after us, I can feel it. We just have to keep running, they won't waste valuable time on two fugitives. At least, that's what I hope.

-Theodosia Adamis, of Alecto-b

37:21/45:00 local time, 9:30. October 22nd universal time, somewhere on Alecto-b
8 days since escape

They've caught up to us, but... we're still alive. They caught us in a bombed out ruin somewhere while we were camping out, but we saw them before they found us. We hid away, and somehow they didn't catch us. My moron beloved almost gave us away for the damn sword he insists on carrying around. We... we have rifles for gods' sake I don't understand why he insists on keeping that thing, family heirloom or not.

Regardless, we've escaped them. They headed north-west, the direction we were headed previously, but now we've changed direction due east. That should throw them off for at least a few days, maybe, just maybe they'll abandon pursuit. That's all we can hope for, after all.

I've basically completely recovered from the aftereffects of my augmentation removal, but, my beloved he... hasn't. He's trying to conceal it, but I can tell it's still effecting him: when he loses his footing on nothing, when I see him wincing and clutching his forehead. It's troubling, but... I can't do anything about it. He says he's fine whenever I ask, but I know that's not true. Getting any proper medical attention would mean entering a city, which would be suicide. So, I guess it doesn't matter regardless, but... it's still concerning. He'll get better, I know it. I hope.

-Theodosia Adamis, of Alecto-b

26:45/45:00 local time, 14:54 October 26th universal time, somewhere on Alecto-b
12 days since escape

There must be some Numen looking out in our favor, gods...

They found us. Again. We couldn't hide, we couldn't escape this time, though. We were headed into a dead end, but, we shot first. And, somehow, we caught them-gunned them down like the dogs they are.

Or, I suppose it was mainly just me doing the gunning down, husband, he could barely shoot straight. He finally admitted to me yesterday that he's still feeling the aftereffects... and they haven't gotten any better. They're getting worse, actually. His augmentation must have been installed differently, or maybe we were too rough when we took it out? Gods, I don't know what to do. The man can hardly walk for an hour without getting winded-at this rate we'll only have a few days should they send another squad after us.

He'll get better. He'll get better, for all of our sakes. I don't know... I don't know if I can go on without him.

-Theodosia Adamis, of Alecto-b

(Writing becomes jagged and frantic)

41:07/45:00 local time, 21:17 October 31st universal time, ruins of Neo Genoa, Alecto-b
17 days since escape

I don't... I don't know much longer we can survive out here.

Was this all just a waste? Would we have just been better off staying in that city, in that factory? The war... the war can't last much longer, right? Surely, surely they'll stop this madness once they end the bloodshed, once the armaments no longer sing their songs of bloodlust.

No, no, I can't be having doubts now, not when my beloved needs me so. Anything is better than living and dying there, raped and forgotten for IPS tyranny. I need to keep going, I, I need to keep believing.

We've stumbled upon the ruin of Neo Genoa. Something happened in the city a couple decades ago, a revolt, I'd imagine, and those cowards in IPS leveled it in its entirety with a kinetic bombardment. Purged from all maps and records, the city is now a place only for the dead. Not even IPS soldiers are found patrolling within, it feels almost wrong for us to intrude, but... we need to. In here, hopefully... we can rest for at least a few days.

He... he's kept getting worse. He can't even walk on his own anymore: we had to walk shoulder-in-shoulder the past few days, and yesterday I had to carry him through the last stretch into the city.

There's, there's nothing I can do, nothing but hope he'll get better. IPS scanning will track any OMNInet access out here, so it's not like I can contact anyone for help. Perhaps this is Turing's wrath, his curse upon me for defying his children. That I must lie here as a wretched voyeur while my beloved fades away. I can't... I can't think about this anymore. I have to believe. I have to believe.

-Theodosia Adamis, of Alecto-b

(The writing is incredibly jagged and barely legible. A blank page marked by wet spots follows the date)

27:47/45:00 local time, 16:45 November 1st universal time, ruins of Neo Genoa, Alecto-b
18 days since escape

He's dead.

He... reached a breaking point, he couldn't move and... gods, so much blood... what did we do wrong? There wasn't anything apparent when we removed his--

He kept himself together long enough to talk to me one last time. I don't, I don't understand how he could be so calm, he was comforting me even more that I was him. And, gods, I knew why he wanted to hide out by the dockyards, that moron and his sentimentality... but I still wasn't prepared.

He always... he always talked about wanting to become a lancer if he was given the opportunity. When we were still in that factory and heard tale of people, pseudo-slaves like ourselves that threw themselves into the sea in protest, in hope that, somehow, they could be blessed by the arbiters below, or even ascend into divinity. He always imagined us in that position should our escape fail... I admit I thought it to be romantic at the time but...

And so we walked to that dockyard edge, together on the road to death, or so I thought. He was alone on that road, it turned out. I had planned to throw myself into the water alongside him but... he thought different. He told me to keep believing, to keep fighting, even if it's in vain.

And now he's gone, dissolved into the ocean, the only remaining vestige of his existence in my memory and this damn sword he handed me.

But, I have this new feeling. After hearing him speak... I, I want to fight on, even if it means death. Even if it means being forgotten. Those cowards, they'll pay in blood for what they did to my beloved. I can feel him watching over me now... I have this, odd, almost supernatural sense now. I can feel him steadying my rifle, and I know he yearns for the blood and ichor of our oppressors as much as I do.

I'll grant him that wish. I'm not afraid anymore, death only means joining my beloved in the land beyond, right? I don't need to hide, in fact, I'll make them come to me. Here in this city, where they can bleed upon this vestige of their sins. I believe. I believe there's such a thing as justice in this world. A shame, really, that in this world of gods, us mortal men are the ones that must execute that justice, that karmic annihilation.

-Theodosia Adamis, of Alecto-b