You ask Facade if Spit ever mentioned a name, or has the voice introduced themself. Facade relays, and Chops seems to panic a bit. They weren’t supposed to tell anyone about it, not unless they were “the new person”, and they have no idea who that even is-

Primus sits himself up as best as he can, making sure his voice could be heard better. He says that you’re a new god and new to the “game” as well, so...maybe it was you. Chops takes this in, nodding to themself...okay. They’ll tell.

They said that the voice’s name was Chelsea, and that they only want to talk to you, if anyone. None of the other gods. Chops had asked why that was, and Chelsea didn’t want to share much. All they said was that it was vitally important that as few people as possible communicated with them directly. Other people knowing they were helping with the game was fine, as long as it wasn’t detailed on.

Chelsea...huh. Pretty normal sounding name for someone with access to Spit’s console.

You ask Facade if she could ask Chops about Spit’s 5th TCP, one they haven’t met yet- so not Chops, Hark, Raw, or Writhe. What job were they given to do?

Facade passes it on, her voice all business.

Chops is quiet for a moment, saying that they don’t really like Bile much. Bile? Primus asks, his voice strained. Is that the fifth TCP? Chops nods, saying that it was his job to handle lots of traps. He wasn’t allowed to fight directly, though- he’s a poison type, and his body’s glass...Mom was always yelling for people not to break him when they sparred. They never wanted to, obviously! But...he’s...pretty mean. Always doing weird things, and picking on Writhe...

Chops definitely seems less hesitant to give up this information, in any case.
 


You turn to your alliance.
 

VOIDSY: Hey, checking in real quick- how’s things at the pit?
EASTWOOD: We’re almost out. It’s been going smoothly so far, aside from fucking Jetter needing to eat more than half the jelly.
WRETCH: he’s poisoned!!
EASTWOOD: Still, that’s almost all our rations gone. 
EASTWOOD: We’re hoping it wears off soon, at least. 
MILLER: What’s going on back on your end?
VOIDSY: We’re talking to the captured TCP of Spit’s...they said that there’s a “nice voice” that talks to them, and even helps them out sometimes.
VOIDSY: Does Spit have a roommate?
MILLER: Well, she lives with a lot of her high ranking cult members...but the one most immediate to her location wise is her demon.
MILLER: Chelsea pretty much only gets to leave Spit’s side when she’s visiting me-
VOIDSY: Wait, Chelsea?
VOIDSY: That’s the name Chops said.
MILLER: Oh!!!

 
Miller sounds delighted.
 

MILLER: Chelsea’s great!
WRETCH: she’s alright
EASTWOOD: Wait, how do you know her?

Wretch doesn’t answer, letting Miller carry on.
 

MILLER: I’ve known her for decades! She doesn’t like working with Spit at all, and is unfortunately kind of her unwilling servant and mercenary…
MILLER: ...she’s been through a lot. 
MILLER: Kind of grumpy, personality wise… But frankly, in her shoes, she has a reason to be.
MILLER: I can’t imagine living with and working with Spit is pleasant in any capacity, especially not with the way that Spit frames their…”partnership”.

 
Miller shudders a bit.
 

MILLER: I’ve always wanted to get her out of there, but it’d be impossible to get her somewhere truly safe from Spit.
MILLER:  ...Rein says it’s a lost cause and would be dangerous to let a high ranking cultist free from that, but I don’t really know how to feel about that. 
MILLER: It probably just needs to get to know her better!
VOIDSY: Huh...okay.

  

  

VOIDSY: Is it possible for someone else to use the god console?
MILLER: It’s really not allowed, but it is possible.
EASTWOOD: People have gotten temporarily banned from the game for sharing consoles before, so it’s kind of an unspoken rule not to tell if you do. Snitches get stitches.
VOIDSY: But wait, couldn’t we just tell on Spit, then?
EASTWOOD: Not that simple. 
EASTWOOD: If I had to guess, I’d say that the only reason why she’s letting someone else at her station is because she has some kind of backup plan if she gets banned.
EASTWOOD: Some kind of failsafe that could kill her TCPs off in the case that she’s kicked, or worse, a lot of ours.
EASTWOOD: Hard to say, but I wouldn’t risk it.

You all go quiet, waiting for Wretch to follow up on that. When she doesn’t continue, you step in.

Wretch giggles at that, and you hear Eastwood groan.

You glad that at the very least, Wretch’s mood seems a bit lighter now- but there’s one more thing to handle before you forget. 

You’re getting a call.

You pick up the call.

The person on the end is definitely not Spit, at least...they look like some kind of cat, though you can’t see any ears on them to confirm that. Metal horns appear to be attached to their head, and you get a grim feeling that they aren’t coming off. They have the same collar style that Spit’s TCPs have, and their fur is incredibly dirty and matted, matching their equally tattered and ripped clothes.

You have never seen someone so tired.

...You are also pretty sure some of those stains are blood. 

 

Chelsea makes a face at the mention of Wretch, more distress than anything.