Chapter V - Brimstone

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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

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"It'll be like getting back on the horse, so to speak. We have a lot of catching up to do, and I need to regale you with my life's stories," Meris stated with a smile to Nereus. "There's a lot of them, so we'll have plenty of time to talk."

She gave the Void Weaver another quick kiss and headed for the enormous freezer. "The best thing to do is envision the door opening to our respective area of the DarkHallow and then allow our minds to awaken from there," she explained to them. Crystal and Neasa followed her in and waited for the others to join them.

*~*~*

Aspasia sat up in the examination chair and sighed as she rubbed her neck thoughtfully. "Yeah, with Arkham, I'm not half-assing this, Coach. What I felt his cigar-chomping counterpart pull on me back at that tower, I don't want to put anything to chance with my mind and its plasticity. My body was thankfully durable enough to shake it off, especially compared to Aislinn's injuries."

She eyed the lich squarely and shook her head. "Any potential pain is worth it if I get to come back to you and Mira as myself, and not some puppet that could feasibly hurt others," she explained with a grimace. "I've been there and done that; I don't want to be someone else's pawn ever again."

She smiled sardonically at her partner. "Besides, a syringe is nothing compared to childbirth, a gun shot, or a stab wound," she commented nonchalantly with a shrug.
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

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Three sighed uneasily. "That's what worries me," he told Meris. "I'm not sure I'm up for probing that corner of my subconscious alone, even if it's to wake up."

Delmar placed a hand on his shoulder. "Relax," he said, "Sam and I are both here. If you don't want to explore any further, we can send you off to wake up normally. You'll just be the first one to do so."

That left the soldier nodding gratefully. "Yeah, I'll stick my own baggage in there once I won't be worried about Mister Lovecraftian Power Walk giving my brain the consistency of a bad slushie. We already ran into him once, I don't need a repeat performance. I almost snapped and throat-punched the fucker."

Nereus winced as he held the door. "Yes, that would've been inadvisable," he said, briefly looking away as he reminisced, and then refocused on Drake. "You have to understand," he said, "that a division like ours hasn't happened before in my people's history. It used to be the Augur was the voice of the Others, and his will was law. Now, my will isn't my people's and they follow someone who has faith, but no training."

Three frowned. "I don't understand; how can all that training mean nothing at all, all because Meris altered your course? If you're better-equipped at dealing with Amaxi, why did Chambers break you so easily over the centuries? I don't want to criticize what you've been through, I just-"

Nereus held up a placating hand. "It's alright, I understand. My best guess always was that considering my lineage, I've turned out to be more sensual, more emotionally sensitive than most Augurs to precede me. What was intended was for me to use that sense of empathy to manipulate others, it only ended up allowing me to resonate with Meris. Add stress and exhaustion to the mix, and you also understand why I couldn't be the double agent I always wanted to be, once we reached the surface.
- But how can you resist Amaxi, and not Chambers?"

Nereus partially closed the door as he sighed thoughtfully. "Christopher Chambers is a dangerously capable man," he finally said. "An opponent armed with wits, guile and patience, able to kill as much with his words as with his hands and fists. He's an expert in leading others to ruin, without so much as using the Black Speech. If I were a Loyalist, I'd have been overjoyed and would've passed Augurship on to him long ago. Now, Amaxi?"

He shook his head and smirked sardonically. "Try and meditate on the following, while you wake up: she's a child throwing a temper tantrum that's been lasting for the better part of this Universe's existence. A grown woman with no dignity to speak of, with more feral cunning than intelligence. She's someone who hates without any reasoning. I can rationalize this - and dismiss it. Chambers, comparatively, is frighteningly plausible to me. History's always had its fair share of zealots."

Nereus then added a wink. "I'll see you all soon. Watch the tabloids and entertainment feeds, you're about to see me try and sabotage Renewal from the inside out," he said, chuckling, then looked back at Meris. 

"I might need to kiss a few starlets on the mouth, between here and New Year's - act all drunk and disorderly to poison Christopher's efforts. I'll be in our home every night, if you ever have concerns to voice."

* * *

Coach seemed unconvinced. "Yeah, but in the eyeball?! Come on, Asp!"

Martin walked across his office's space and opened a glass cabinet, pulling out a box from it. The printed sides displayed the applicator contained within, along with a fairly worrying sterile plastic dome meant to act as both support and stabilizer. If Aspasia's eye so much as twitched during the procedure, the Karthian's hyperbolic endorsement of her visual acuity wouldn't mean much of anything, while the Transgenic would be open for seriously profitable insurance claims... The alien stopped to sweep the box over his keyboard and type a few things in, clicking his mouse a few times.

"I thought this was already paid for," mused the wizard, which left Loren to smile brightly, if contemptibly. "Yes, I always take pleasure in overcharging clients who happen to be ready to launch themselves into a reckless endeavor, mister Robertson! Your prattling notwithstanding, I'm actually working to pair this new batch with Aspasia's own network infrastructure. Then I have to upload the code base mister Rothchild inexplicably knows about; and only then can I think about jamming a needle in your wife's right pupil."

Coach chose to ignore the insult. "I thought she was clear of Rendell's junk, to be perfectly honest.
- No Transgenic ever is," sighed Loren. "Crucial payloads are dumped in the stool and urine, but there's always a few nanobots lying inert in the bloodstream or brain matter. Physics isn't kind to foreign objects inserted in organic bodies, we're all creatures of friction, pressure units and imparted momentum. Things break off and are sometimes too small to fully recover. You're left with single solitary nanites swarmed by white blood cells, unable to so much as excite a single axon or dendrite. Luckily for us, inert nanites still transmit their serial numbers for physicians like me to pick up..."

He looked up to Silas. "Did you know your wife technically has an IMEI number all to herself? In that sense, she's no different from the latest smartphone. The only difference is her bandwidth isn't legally discoverable by satellite feed providers or 6G carriers. Only practitioners like myself can pick it up. You can imagine the hubbub in the late nineties: ISPs were chomping at the bit to flood every Chimera's field of view with advertisements. Caliban Smith, obviously, wasn't too fond of that idea."
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

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"Yeah, I remember him coming by to vent over the telecommunications lobbyists bemoaning the fact that we wouldn't get to see ads for the latest Blackberry or MPMan," Aspasia recalled with a snort. "We were already commercialized goods, so why not give more of that to us on top of the crap we were just getting over?"

"As for reckless endeavors, I'm entirely aware of that, Dr. Loren. Shield has their hands full, and Mr. Rothchild gave the investigation to me and Coach, especially since I have more of an option to blend in with my similarities to my counterparts. One Chimera can look like the other, a dye job is all I need to shift any recognition others might have. It's worth it to find out what Arkham is up to, given that he's obviously been swindling the Bucks for a few centuries now. The questions are why and what for. What's his end game?"

*~*~*

The Archmage blew him a kiss. "You have my permission to cause as much chaos within Renewal as possible. If I could, I'd be there with popcorn and watching with my schadenfreude hat on," she said, chuckling. "See you soon, dear."
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

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Loren looked away from his screen, then went back to it. He seemed indecisive about something, and then finally stood up and walked away from his desk, in order to grab something in his overcoat. All the while, the keyboard's keys clacked and sprang up and down as invisible fingers struck them, the mouse gliding this way and that, producing the occasional click. Needless to say, Silas looked impressed.

"What - Excuse me, doctor, what are you doing?
- Padding for my smartphone," replied Loren. "It might come as a shock to you, but denied heirs to Telor's Archontate can still forget things from time to time. I need to tell the station nurse and my secretary that I'll be coming with you.
- What?! No, you're a civilian! You can't just-"

Martin seemed to find something in his overcoat's right pocket, his right hand flashing in a Gambit-like lazy card throw. The small laminated plastic blade that froze in front of Coach's face and within sight of Aspasia was an HPD Consultant laminate, bearing a series of ominous-looking serial numbers. The lich's eyelights winked a few times, as he blinked.

"I thought you'd retired! I-
- Only in appearance, mister Robertson. The Bullseye Program is the very thing that keeps people like myself or Captain Mac Loch unregistered with the Vienna Council - so the usefulness of aliases and alter egos isn't entirely lost to this openly-broadcast modern world. I've allowed the both of you to see my true features because I fully intended to come along. By virtue of being alien, I'm nearly fully protected from Harrison Arkham's mental yoke. Point in fact, I'd like to put him in one of my own. Ideally, one that places him in permanent deep sleep."

Coach blinked again. "Wait, back up - so nobody knows you're a Karthian?!"

Loren again flashed Coach a mildly exasperated look. "If that were the case, I wouldn't be able to hold this practice under this name, mister Robertson. Everyone knows what I am; I simply haven't allowed anyone to see me with my true facial features. You're the first people to see my chin's tendrils in close to a century."

Having recovered his phone, he went back to his desk, his fingers fluidly taking over for his fine telekinetic motor skills. "The Bullseye Program and the Vienna Accords are like Earthling food and orange juice; they simply don't match up. How can one lone alien abide by the United Nations' desire for full disclosure, while still remaining a secret to this country's enemies? I never lied about my species, mister Robertson - I lied about my face and fingerprints. If I were to bring my constant screen down in front of Arkham, he'd only see an unknown Grayskin. Martin Loren was exposed as Mentalor multiple times, but the man you see before you was never exposed as Mentalor. All I need is a different set of tendrils, a weaker brow or more defined jawline, and I have myself a throwaway identity I am more than willing to let Harrison Arkham think he vanquished. However, that would be rather on-the-nose."

He looked at Aspasia, in a way that wouldn't be familiar to the faun, as if he were looking through or past her. Something... echoed in her head for a few seconds, and then the Karthian was gone. In his place was a slightly wizened-looking male blue Chimera, wearing blue jeans, a light sweater and a few fine scars to the face and neck. He looked much like Aspasia's numerous brothers, if the roughness of their common early life hadn't quite as faded away so quickly. Martin's Karthian features and dour voice had disappeared, but the same rational steel could be seen in his gold-green eyes.

"You'll call me Ajax," he told her. "I'm bypassing your nanites' current firewalls and uploading his backstory. You're my would-be contact and facilitator, I'm your first-time buyer. You'll be able to claim to want to buy a boat or insure one for yourselves once you'll be able to visit Arkham a second time - ideally to stop him."

The perk with having nanites respond to alien telepathic signals was that no trippy meeting of the minds occurred. One moment, Ajax didn't so much as exist. The next, Aspasia would have enough information to claim to be able to "remember" him from all the way back in 1975, as a member of one of the recon groups to have preceded hers. He'd had a rough life, had been one of Rendell's black sheeps, and had had an even worse recovery. Petty theft, shoplifting, a growing rap sheet and a lack of employability had landed him in the old Buck fishery, taking to the Atlantic from May to November and then cashing unemployment checks through the Holidays. He'd bought his own boat, however, and had brought in more than a few good hauls, enough to want to purchase a less business-oriented craft for himself. Something small and simple - a low-risk investment.

Having been operating a business for decades now, Aspasia and Coach would've fit the bill as financing-related mentors.

* * *

The door closed, the fridge's lights were switched off, and darkness swallowed them. Three didn't have the time to so much as wonder what came next that his throat and palate felt chalky. His neck began to feel sore. He opened his true eyes, the Hunstman's Room no longer cast in deliberately cozy gloom, the fireplace's warmth having largely faded. Bagley was dusting one of the weapon cases and humming what Drake took to be a Chopin air - and even that was hard. His mind felt like thick, sticky cobwebs covered it.

"Hey, Bags... Did we snore?
- Rest assured, master Aidan, you all looked utterly dignified," he said, smirking behind his mustache. "But yes, you did snore. I've never seen the little one be quite so still before."

Three groaned as he tried to stand up. "Anjali? Yeah, she's been through a lot, down there. I wouldn't be surprised if she stayed under for a while and recovered. How's the fort?
- Still standing," shrugged the butler. "Master Leonard's arrived, by the by - today was his last summation as himself. As agreed upon, the Goat has tomorrow's closing statements.
- Who is he, today?"

Bagley sighed. "Quite himself, truth be told - that is, the sullen and vindictive version we've brought back from the Spire," he explained, pausing to offer the soldier a glass of water. "Here - drink this. You all look terribly parched."

Three tried to shake the Darkhallow off of his synapses after a few gulps. "Um, how'd the judge take it?
- Judge Freeman presides the class-action; he seems ambivalent at present. The prosecution rightfully argues that IsoTech knew its products displayed low reliability grades and chose to ignore the data. The defense argues that every known flaw is listed in the implants' respective descriptions - which is entirely true. Ephesian's route is to claim that IsoTech never claimed to effectively augment its customers, but only sought to offer an avenue, a means to an end."

Aidan seemed indecisive. "It seems shaky, but if a disclaimer was always issued - or worse, a waiver - then the company's covered its ass. What's the Goat's approach, for comparison?"

Bagley shook his head. "You've seen the Goat in court before. It seems fond of appeals to the jury, especially to the slighted cyborgs in the selection process. Not very many augmented with high success rates seem to have been contacted in the jury's assembly. The Goat is attempting to sway them into admitting that they have failed in their duty to be impartial."

Three grimaced. "Can't expect an all-Naturals jury to fairly preside over Clanks and Tin Cans - representation matters."

The butler nodded. "Oh, and our friend the demon knows this intimately."
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

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At first, Aspasia eyed "Ajax" with a certain amount of long-buried, Paradise-sown suspicion, but she quickly batted it away and simply nodded. "Alright, "Ajax". That'll definitely work as a suitable cover while meeting with Arkham," she responded approvingly.

She commented casually, "When we were first approached, I momentarily considered using an alias, but the fact of us being a couple is already too well known that it would be a moot point. However, having another "Chimera" around will probably ease Arkahm with our sameness and make any business transactions easier to handle. I imagine that any trustworthiness expressed during the meeting will at least be something of a ruse, as I've heard from one of our sources that his people don't trust easily."

*~*~*

Meris had woken up easily, given that it was essentially like riding a bike. She sat up and stretched. "I'm glad we had such a fortunate journey," she mumbled to no one in particular. She then overheard Bagley and Three's conversation topic and frowned. "Chances are that the head of IsoTech is going to be found not guilty, whether we like it or not. However, with Mr. Ephesian's new duty as attorney for the Damned, I think we may have some leeway at some point. His becoming that was a bit like opening Pandora's Box; we don't know the end of what he can really do."

"And not to forget, we have an insider who's already sworn allegiance to the Lord and Lady already. We should probably expect the worst scenario and adapt accordingly," Neasa added.

Having been the least accustomed to traveling in such a manner, Crystal woke up with a groan. "Jeez, was your brain this sluggish when you first started going to the DarkHallow, Meris? I feel like my mind's full of cotton."

The Archmage shrugged. "Initially, yes. If you return to your area of the DarkHallow more frequently that effect will eventually dissipate."
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

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Three glanced at his watch. "Twelve hours to go... That's more than enough time for latecomers to show up. Nickar can't be the only one."

He then walked out of the room and headed back into the East wing, to access the kitchen. As expected, Ephesian had claimed a good chunk of the old kitchen staff's own table as a makeshift desk. Scotch and cigarette smoke hung in the air. As for the anthro, his status almost made the human gasp.

At least, Leonard didn't look anything like the smarmy or self-obsessed being that sometimes took over. His fur was changing in tone, however, going from his old silvery whites to something that reminded Aidan of fresh ashes or soot - dark gray with a hint of blue. His normally gold-green eyes seemed to veer closer to outright copper. As he opened his mouth while speaking notes into a dictaphone, surface nodes of via could be seen forming under the skin; effectively the sort of benign tumors that some shielded or improperly trained practitioners could develop if they skirted the edge of recklessness. They weren't glowing blue, however; and somehow matched his eyes with a sort of soft golden glow. He wasn't wearing his usual whites, either, having gone for something close to Tom's dark purple tones, paired with charcoal accents in his shirt and tie.

"Um - I didn't know you already wanted to spend your retainer, Leonard. Maybe we could've arranged something, and-"

The goat clicked his dictaphone off and gave Drake a dour look. "Spare me the Good Samaritan act, Drake - you and I both know I'm not keeping this body after this. I can keep the looks, but I've been set on a different path. If you heard what I keep hearing whenever I get to assume control again, you'd understand. This is all by design - and I know you'll think I've lost it."

Three looked a bit concerned, Archie walking past him to offer Ephesian the same look of growing unease. Had the Spire's changes driven their charge insane?

Leonard went on. "You'll push the hordes back with Heaven's help, set terms we all need for cohabitation to be possible and for all this to not look like a Doom 2 ripoff - but the well and truly Damned, those who won't want or care to give us a chance; like Asmodeus or the Goat or those unspeakable hordes, down there - we've established that Judge Mantus and I will have a part to play in their fate. My winning this trial no longer matters; what I'm being given the chance to do supersedes all attempts at redemption on my part. This is my redemption arc, as there's a baker's dozen of more qualified lawyers that could've been picked to support a Judicator's powers. Out of all of them, God or the Fates or whoever else chose me."

Three's apprehension was turning into reluctant agreement. "I don't know; I understand you'd like all of this to make sense and to find some way to part with your body not come across as some sort of tragedy, but I'd much rather take you back to how you were before the Goat picked you."

Ephesian scoffed incredulously. "I can't believe you're still putting this on the table, Aidan. I have the power to see my tormentor driven to justice, to silence legions of restless dead in the Shadowlands, and you'd like me to step away from all this?! I spent my life doing the wrong things for the right reason and now, for the very first time, everything feels incontrovertibly right."

Three pursed his lips together. "So losing Earth to Hell feels right to you?
- At the risk of scaring you," bitterly replied the attorney, "yes. Yes, it does. We give the fools their prize, then poison it with what they fear the most. Retribution. Judgment. When the dust settles, we will be the arbiters of Hell's expatriates. They'll change our world how we see fit and respect our right to live in peace. If they can't, we'll acquaint them with the exact meaning of the phrase Hell on Earth. In the end, the Vienna Accords will spread from Austria to Heaven and back to the Tartarus' dried riverbed."

Archie approached the table. "So if going for a last-minute save tomorrow is out of the question, what are you working on now?
- Old Angelic edicts the Goat managed to have stolen from Heaven, sometime during the Spanish Inquisition; means to further punish someone who would've already Fallen. Beyond the Thrones' own Instruments, I'm looking for a means to constrain the Princes - force them to live mortal lives in mortal bodies. It wouldn't prevent the Goat from dabbling in the entirety of what the Penal and Criminal Codes cover, but then the State's own courts would be able to address him. In the worst of cases, he might even be easily contained in Chimera Row."

Three seemed dubious. "Sure, but if you kill the Goat's mortal envelope, he just goes back to being demonic. Then we're back to Square One."

Ephesian then held up something Three had seen a few times in several clinics and hospitals, as well as around the black market: a little canister of nanites, mostly intended as a sort of inert sample; something for the average customer to look at while attempting to grasp the applications of nanotech. In the glass tube, what looked like mercury or molten gallium waited. A simple nanite suspension.

"Not if we pull a Rendell," explained the attorney. "We'll have every right to have nanomachines administered to him, keeping him in mortal homeostasis. If mortality is to be his prison, then his mortal life should be endless.
- What about you?"

Leonard eyed Meris. "I can channel the rage and torment of all of this world's restless dead. There's more energy there than any ghost has ever needed. I'll be just as corporeal as I was - only I'll have the choice to fade away during combat."

* * *

"I wouldn't expect otherwise from Arkham," replied Martin, who faded back into view. Meris wouldn't need much to understand that he was allowing Coach and herself to see him, while intending to blind Arkham with the crafted illusion of the Chimera boater persona he'd created. He then grabbed his overcoat, removed his doctor's blouse and shucked the coat on. That done, he returned to his desk, pulled the applicator out of its packet and fixed the eye cup in place.

"Alright," he said, "let's at least make sure your wife doesn't end up writing out cognitohazard-type visual stimuli in your chili dogs using sriracha sauce..."

Coach snorted. "You could've called it Black Speech, like everyone else has been.
- And besmirch Tolkien?" asked Martin. "Never in a thousand years, mister Robertson."
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

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Meris had considered Ephesian's changed state with a composed and rational demeanor. She understood how her own edict would change him as he became more in tune with his responsibilities and via. He was already essentially crossing over into ghosthood, despite still having a physical body. His readiness would ease his transition somewhat and give him more of a chance to focus on his goals.

"That's good. I had faith in you when I declared you to be the Speaker for the Damned, and I know you are capable of seeing what needs to be done through. Once the chaos unfolds, we'll do our best to keep as many people safe as possible, but it's certainly going to be rough for a while. The main thing you'll need to remember is why you're doing this. With as much raw power as you'll be wielding, it's pertinent to keep your purpose in mind. You'll technically be using an immortal's power, and keeping the balance prevents you from veering off into the areas that dragged down your tormentor eons ago. It's your life preserver, so hold it close to your heart, Mr. Ephesian."

*~*~*

Their Tolkien discourse left the fauness chuckling momentarily, and she relaxed back in the examination chair. A steadying breath was all that she needed to relax and let the doctor do his work.
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

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Ephesian briefly glared at Meris, but caught himself before something regrettable escaped him.

"I - You're right, of course, miss McConmara," he said, nodding. "Part of me wants to scoff at the very notion that I'd tread down the same path the Goat followed. I remember how it felt like, when Drake and your younger descendants used their compassion to bring out the core of his being. His isn't the kind of pride that can be rebuffed with a simple reality check; this Akoman character made sure his corruption would stick. It's clear to me that I could reach the point many spirits do, lose track of who am I and what my duties are. I always managed to come across as humble or at least personable, but Pride itself wouldn't have latched onto me if I didn't already have a penchant for pridefulness."

Archie rolled his eyes. "Balderdash, Leonard - we all have our failings. All of us here have something to be proud of - and all of us are guilty of occasional self-aggrandizement. The human nature is to desire to see one's accomplishments noted and celebrated, or at the very least validated in their usefulness or relevancy. Look at me - I'm British. I'm of a breed that manages the unlikely act of combining a self-effaced nature with the pursuit of social graces. We simultaneously manage to avoid peeving off others while quite carefully lording over the same we attempt to show consideration towards!"

Leonard chuckled bitterly, although his words seemed more teasing than mocking in tone. "Don't I know it, it used to be the family said the old Southern gents were savages in linen suits who hoped to God they'd been born in the English countryside. A lot of them mistook refined cruelty for refined manners.
- So, you understand," extrapolated the Clank. "Pride itself isn't the issue, nor are your new powers. I, for one, will start worrying once you will book some of Tom's referrals for illegal immigration."

The front doorbell rang again, the odd combination of what sounded like hurricane-force winds and the humming of a planar rift briefly resonating throughout the mansion. Gubbin was dimly heard asking the newcomer to repeat his greeting at something to a scream's level, and then the door was closed. The outside din dissapeared, the newcomer heard exchanging pleasantries as the Malk took his overcoat. Immediately, Leonard rose his head, his nostrils quivering.

"Pride's sent an envoy. I'm guessing the idiot is too busy with his own preparations to possess me and gloat..."

A pair of footsteps was heard approaching, the first one being Gubbin's and the second one, the newcomer's. The Malk arrived first.

"Herbert J. Wormsworth, Esquire. Bannerman for the Tartarus Province of Pride and head of the Black Goat's personal legal team, milords, ladies. He bade me mention that he is seeking a change of careers..."

Tension left Leonard's features. Mild annoyance touched Archie's. "Send him in, Gubbin."

The Clank glanced at Meris. "If this were a trap, it would be a poorly-placed one. Moreover - opening a rift on my doorstep? How very brazen of him!"

* * *

Loren took a few steps closer and leaned in, his bulbous head shadowing the Faun. He again gave her a fairly vacant look - a sort of professorial boredom hanging onto his features. His mouth opened, perhaps in expectation of apprehensive comments or of signs that she'd been in need of reassurance. Seeing none, he couldn't quite repress a scoff.

"I forgot," he murmured, "we have a soldier on our hands! Well, this makes for a nice change of pace. No need for the usual platitudes, I see."

He used his right thumb and forefinger to peel back Aspasia's eyelids and pressed the eyecup into place. The Transgenic might get the sense that the cup was designed to anesthetize the eyeball over a period of a few minutes, but Loren's bedside manner was already questionable. His only other words were a command, that she follow the tracking dot's red glare and stay fixed on it. Otherwise, it wasn't that different from laser surgery, except Aspasia would quickly feel that her perfected immune system had kicked into high gear to handle the slight reddening of the cornea that resulted from the injection. Pressure briefly increased in her eye, fogging out her right-handed field of view for a moment or two, before the nanites found the ingress points to her bloodstream and joined her heart's provided ebb and flow. There was a brief stab of vague sensory displeasure once the needle was removed - thank Heavens for localized narcotics, then followed by a common occurrence when nanite updates came with new functionalities. A voice, quite simply, rang in her own head. It had the graceful, softly masculine lilt of Paradise-patented automated speech generation.

"Hello, miss Robertson. I am the Loren Syntagmatic Safeguard's tutorial and disclaimer system. The payload you have been injected with is now establishing connections with your cerebral cortex. In a few minutes, you will be able to set up the Safeguard's Trigger and Response options as you see fit. For now, I am required to mention that the use of afterimages or ghostly sounds when in the presence of cognitohazards is intentional, as there are no current means to dynamically identify and isolate infringing sounds and events. Soundfiles or censoring images may be uploaded at your discretion, but your having installed this payload signifies your agreement to 2023's amendments to the Digital Millennium Copyright Act. The use of copyrighted material to counter cognitohazard exposures does not constitute Fair Use. A variety of duty-free images and sounds can be found online.

Simply put, the LSS functions by covering infringing symbols or visual manifestations, like so."

A big, featureless black box then winked into view on top of a few of Loren's many diplomas, the system apparently trying to figure out if it needed to cover several frames with a single box, or use multiple boxes with one per frame. In theory, this meant the software would "see" any Black Script before her conscious mind would, preventing her from taking in its damaging effects.

"Auditory stimuli are handled similarly."

Aspasia would be able to see Coach's jaw moving as he asked her if she felt alright, but all that reached her ears from him was a low binaural tone. The tone then crackled as the software hesitated between allowing or blocking Silas' voice, before finally letting it through.

"The use of humorous excerpts or Internet memes is ill-advised. Research suggests those entities capable of releasing cognitohazard payloads do not react kindly to their salvos resulting in amusement or hilarity. Please exercise caution.

This concludes the tutorial. To set up your preferences, look to your left without moving your head. To restart this tutorial, look to your right without moving your head. To exit this applet, blink once. To delete this applet, blink twice. If you wish to further customize your masking preferences following the applet's deletion, enter your manufacturer-specified Admin sequence and select the 'Rebuild LSS Index' option."

A Windows-worthy polite chime followed. "Caution: user identified as Transgenic, nanite build version 1.0.3.75. Please connect to a Paradise-approved broadcast point to request an update. Your current Admin sequence is no longer supported."
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

Post by TennyoCeres84 »

"Could be a similar case to Paimon. I doubt he's the only Pride demon fed up with his employer and potentially side with us. Brazenness could simply be a trait common to many of them. In the worst case, this bravado could merely be an extension of the Goat's ego," Meris speculated, then tilting her head and quirking a brow at Archibald. "If he starts monologuing about how feeble and pathetic we are, then we can see about showing him the door if he has ill intentions."

Hearing the discourse between the Clank and the selkie, Crystal and Neasa finally entered the area where the rest of them had congregated and waited for the rather forward guest to appear.

*~*~*

Once the applet would've let her hear Coach's voice, Aspasia lightly dismissed his concern with a wave of her hand. "I'm fine, Coach. Looks like it's just leading up to the preference interface," she murmured gently, not wanting to jostle her eye muscles much in case the program was touchy.

Once prompted, the fauness kept her head still while her amber eyes drifted to the left to start the next stage of the applet.
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone

Post by IamLEAM1983 »

The rest of the previous trip's participants chose not to huddle in the kitchen, considering their numbers. For Delmar and Sam, overcrowding the space was a theoretical impossibility, in any case. With Eirean choosing to head back to Frosthall to check on her previous guest's departure and any remaining personal effects, Vernon was left as the local representative for the Fae. He'd settled with sedately taking a seat at the kitchen's table, while Anjali had gone back to hovering close to Archie and Crystal, her nose buried in a book all the while.

The being that walked in stood at about six feet two, a slightly V-shaped torso suggesting some casual athleticism designed to counter what had to be a naturally lanky frame. His bare reptilian feet displayed opposable big toes and rear dewclaws, the lot of them kept meticulously clean. A gray two-piece and white shirt covered him, ornamented with a red tie. His hands painted a similar picture, claws that would have been effective at landing lethal blows showing signs of careful grooming, if not a complete lack of offensive use. He also sported a spaded tail, the appendage waving lazily behind him like a bored feline's. Artfully folded wings waited at his back, suggesting he had some ability in regards to unassisted flight, like the Thrones. Their bones and tendons phased through the back of the suit and shirt's fabric, as though the garments had been precisely cut out at the root of these appendages.

Facially, you could've considered him a complete reversal of Paimon's posture. Wormsworth had a long face, with big eyes, a strangely small nose - barely a nub between his two large eye sockets - and an unusually long naso-labial distance. A strangely self-assured underbite could be seen, his rounded jaw protruding forwards slightly, his right lower fang and a few neighbouring incisors fully uncovered. He had no outer ears to speak of, but the curve of the side of his head suggested the inner ear canal was still present; the lack of a sound cone perhaps corrected at the supernatural level. The whole of it was covered in soft, visibly well-hydrated crocodilian leather, with perhaps a smidgen of Brimstone dust still stubbornly clinging to everything. His left hand held an attaché case, the right what honestly looked like a relic of the late 2010s; a genuine Vertu Constellation smartphone, with its ruby-inlaid Virtual Concierge button, gold insets and equally leather-clad backing. He'd apparently been in the process of putting it back in his jacket's inner pocket, as he finished the gesture before stepping forward.

"Good afternoon, all," he said, his voice having a slightly avuncular quality. His diction was clearer than you would've expected his underbite to allow, with a flatter take on the Trans-Atlantic accent, and didn't so much carry contempt as it did a general dislike of the situation he found himself in. Archie didn't let that keep him from his duties as host, and he shook Wormsworth's hand. Pleasantries were exchanged, the demon agreed on a cup of coffee - black, with two sugars - and he finally took a seat, giving the group a lazy, calculating and level gaze before beginning.

"Two factors are motivating my coming here, ladies and gentlemen," he said. "I should like to clear the air first, and lay out the unpleasant aspects of my visit. If all goes well, you should find my other reason for coming here more to your liking."

Ephesian blinked. "Save your breath; I know he wants to mount a legal defense for when I'll see him prosecuted. He knows what's going to happen once Hell takes root on Earth definitively.
- Then you surely know he intends to counter your own charges with those of libel and slander. The official party line in the Pit is that the invasion is being prepared in order to save the mortal plane from greater threats. I'll spare you my personal reading of this bit of tacky propaganda," Wormsworth said, "but my soon-to-be previous employer has not backed down from his claim of having this plane's best interests at heart. I've heard better lies out of offal-spewing mollusks in the depths below the Spire, but it is what it is," the lawyer said, sighing. "The man spends thousands of years corrupting mortals and training my kind to forge the most exquisite lies, and still can't lie his way out of the simplest of truths. I may be of Pride, but like Paimon and many others, I know when Pride is taken too far."

Three was intrigued. "What is it you do for the Goat, exactly?
- Did," replied Wormsworth, "past tense. I and many others spoke for him, when entreaties with other Vices or more recently Fallen angels motivated his commitment to specific courses of action. We also maintained diplomatic outreach programs with Heaven's more malleable elements. The Goat still foolishly hopes we may one day broker his return to grace, but we largely worked in order to keep tensions in Limbo at a minimum, his own interests lying at the bottom of our docket. The war still rages on, thousands of years after the Fall, but this world of yours greatly benefits from our efforts at negotiating terms for a détente."

Vernon. "So, you are a diplomatic liaison for the Pit, then.
- Was, at this rate," Herbert allowed. "Hence my name - lower-case N. I was never meant to be summoned, but rather to develop a rare tolerance to Heaven's Light, for a Pitspawn. Just about the only thing I still can't stomach is the Cherubs' unceasing glee and naïveté towards your world. As you might have gathered, I'm much more of a realist than an optimist. With that in mind, I do not like our odds."

Archie frowned. "That's an odd thing to say, coming from a Pitspawn.
- Which is what everyone tells me," replied the demon with an eye-roll. "However, I do not deal in wanton chaos. My neck of Pride's woods thrives on executive power - a concept unheard of to the screeching hordes that make up most of your Tom Magnus' former predators. We consider a situation, as unpleasant as it may be, and we work to resolve it. Ours might be the pride of the self-satisfied government worker denying you vital permits or concessions, but it gets work done. The Goat's awaiting seeds of chaos are as revolting to me as they are to you."

Wormsworth rose his fleshly eyebrows, sighed and raised his attaché-case, setting it down on the table. "So, to dispense with the drudgeries, Counsellor Ephesian…"

Opening it, he pulled out a rolled length of parchment sealed with black wax, and handed it to the anthro.

"You've been served," he said, pausing to pull a fountain pen from his case to jot something down behind its cover, lightly muttering as he did so. Three put two and two together.

"You're signing termination papers," he said. Wormsworth briefly looked up, as if Drake had stated the painfully obvious. "How very perceptive of you, mister Drake," he said, a fair bit of sarcasm oozing forth, without really culminating in outright contempt. "You would, however, be correct. I am signifying the end of my willful employment with the firm of Cacus & Bune while maintaining the right to preserve my license as a transplanar arbiter."

A few stapled sheets of modern paper followed, the front page having a glossy finish. On it, Wormsworth could be seen giving an askance smirk to the camera. Meris would get the sense thar Delmar wasn't too far, and that he couldn't figure out if that snapshot suggested mellifluous deviousness or was actually Herbert's best attempt at an affable grin.

"What's this?" asked Leonard. Herbert's smile was a carbon copy of the photo's. "Why, my resumé, of course. All of five thousand years, neatly condensed in three pages. I would have included a social media platform or a website, but my skills were of no common use in the Pit. There is precious little need for a professional contact that includes an ability at tormenting mortals or possessing their coils."

Cuthbert followed along. "Pardon me for butting in, but I'm sure I can grasp the ramifications of what you're saying, mister Wormsworth. You're a Pitspawn that doesn't know how to possess people?
- I'm a lawyer, mister Cuthbert - moreover, a lawyer who has never needed to set a single foot upon this plane, until today. My business never was torment or spiritual oppression, but rather mediation. A seldom-used avenue that left me free to open channels across the Planes, true enough, but the Goat leaving me to my devices for so long should be construed as a godsend, pun intended. I've better to do with my time than to watch clients murder one another. If my current employer is unwilling or unable to alter my workload, then I believe it is mortal custom to place one's skillset in other hands."

The billy blinked. "Why not Tanner and Associates? Why my firm, seeing as I'm about to dissolve and re-incorporate it, leaving the scraps for the Goat? I've had time enough to go back, you know - I've seen what he's done to my juniors and clerks, to people like Tomlinson or Sykes. Our workload is falling behind, I'm facing mediation from Wyvern Holdings and Tanner and Associates- it'd be fair to say he's ruined my pension and destroyed my practice!"

Wormsworth nodded. "All the better, Counselor. You've seen what repulses me and you've lived through it. If you are to be the voice of the restless dead in this county - and in several neighbouring ones - then you'll need associates. Supernatural associates. Judge Mantus can't be expected to double as a law clerk, much less a fellow attorney - and we'll need a decent stable. The Pitspawn have little care for your Civil, Penal or Criminal codes, and they'll need a familiar face to remind them that there is more to living here than simply avoiding the local warlocks and superhumans' ire."

The demon then inspected his fingernails. "I would expect Heaven's less sanctimonious numbers to appoint someone as well in short order. They'll naturally be distrustful of me or the two clerks I'd like to bring into the fold, and you've already buddied up with and involved both the Elemental Thrones and the Archangel Gabriel. This means someone else is ripe for a chance to show us what it exactly means for the Blessed to try and pass the bar's exams..."

* * *

Blue-white interface elements shimmered and winked into view in the center of Aspasia's field of view, looking much like the gussied-up equivalent of your standard Windows dialog box, all in polished glass and Sans Serif fonts. One area was simply titled Censor Image and would apparently allow Aspasia to use her seldom-used nanite array's ability to connect to computers wirelessly in order to browse to and select a suitable image. In small text below the text box, it was suggested that she stick to opaque colors or tiling patterns, to make the obfuscation of larger visual elements easier and more reliable. Below that, the Censor Sound box allowed the Faun to upload a lossless FLAC or WAV file of her choosing, or to choose a specific pitch for the censor tone using basic audio manipulation controls. The default seemed to be a G-sharp - or at least its equivalent in hertz and visually-drawn sine waves, but Aspasia would soon realize she could just as well hum a note or tone and have that be saved for later use.

"How are we doing, Aspasia?" asked Loren, in that detached and somehow almost formal means of his - the way doctors sometimes addressed patients by their first name without having honestly taken the time to know them.
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