Chapter VI - Asunder

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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

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Ereshkigal hefted what looked to be a length of wiring and the case for a console and a mic. "Expecting the Goat to listen to sense is hopeless; all he needs is to hear his idol and main source of inspiration disapprove of his efforts. It'll shake things up in Washington, maybe force him to make an entrance to try and justify himself."

To that, she added a scoff. "I'd tell him good luck with that; Lucifer's a proud and stubborn son of a bitch - but he's a thorough one. He won't just pop in our present time once he gets here, I wouldn't put it past him to use Angel Time to review the way his designs for Hell unfolded. That way, if there's blame to fling, he'll have ammunition."

From there to one of a security rooms, another short elevator ride was required. Before long, what was typically used as the guards' lounge or lunch area started to assume the airs of a recording studio. Apparently, when you were called either Samigina or Nergal, sourcing the most compact and studio-grade hardware wasn't too difficult, with Pandemonium's weaponsmith soon taking to setting up mic stands, microphones and pop filters. He stopped after two micropĥones and one console, raising a bony eyebrow at the roane.

"Erm, pardon me for asking, but what are your rough length and width, when in seal form? I'm just trying to ensure you've got enough space to work comfortably..."

* * *

Wormsworth parted with a bitter smile. "Oh, believe me, I know we aren't. I still remember my first few nights here, trying to set up the basest dregs of a working legal cabinet in an environment of stragglers and shell-shocked bystanders. It won't come as a shock if I say I enjoy my nights when they're long, plush and restorative; and I had precious little of those for the longest time. I've been given a mattress that doesn't even fit the base of my bed by the procurement team, and I've taken to these distressed linens like they're the finest silk and cotton..."

He shook his head. "Come peacetime, I intend to find a mattress so fitting and welcoming that my housekeeper will believe I've swapped places with Belphegor.
- Already fantasizing about hired help, I see," noted Heathcliff, which made Herbert shrug.

"What can I say?" he rhetorically asked. "You can take a demonic snob's finery, but can't separate refinement from him. They'd be hired, I'll insist - and well-paid, as well. Less time for menial work means more time for Ephesian & Wormsworth, which means more prosecutions for the Goat's popinjays and an expedient arrival to whatever new normal us planar immigrants can expect in a rebuilt America. If being a decent employer is a mark of class, then you'll find me the classiest gent in this tower."

The elevator arrived, Douglas smirking as he experimentally hefted his tablet, as if potentially called to take notes. "Well, Classiest Gent, you're about to meet one of your rivals."

The cabin dinged, the doors opening onto Archie's loft. The Automaton looked like he'd been entertaining Rendell with some measure of conversation, but was still more than glad to see reinforcements arrive. "Ah," he said, "Miss McConmara, Mister Wormsworth - how were things downtown, if I may?
- Eventful," summarized the demon. "Care to join us? We've an Akari mystic to officially greet, and could regretfully use mister Rendell's expertise.
- Grand," noted Holden, his brisk steps towards the elevator betraying his need to get out of Rendell's personal space at any cost, as quickly as possible. "You've the house, Anjali dear!" he shot back to his daughter.

"Sure, whatever!" was the girl's nearly Standard American reply.

Seeing as he was ahead of Rendell, Archie offered Neasa, Herbert and Douglas an almost bug-eyed look and mouthed He was driving me insane, thank you so much to the three of them.

A few seconds passed, Herbert then lightly craning towards Doug, eyes briefly darting towards the T-Rex and Clank. It was obvious he was asking who was that purported rival of his in terms of class.

Heathcliff didn't reply, instead sending Neasa an amused look. It obviously wasn't Rendell.

Just in case that silence had been too obvious for Paradise's worst extract, the accountant then coughed lightly and looked to the Clank. "You're looking better, milord.
- Yes, well... I needed a shot in the arm, is all," shrugged the Clank. "The weeping Romantic in me tends to overshadow the fun-loving and adventurous Colonial, of late. We haven't exactly had many occasions to celebrate.
- Well, I'm just glad you found your proverbial pith helmet again," he said.

The Clank inclined his head in allowance, a polite smile on his features, then giving way to light thoughtfulness. "Hm. I suspect my actual pith helmet was lost in the mansion's destruction. I'll just have to order one, I suppose, once things go back to something approaching normalcy."

* * *

As expected, a window was soon created: the older gentleman had an odd look dawn on his face, ostensibly that of a controlling supernatural instance learning that living in a mortal shell came with certain obligations... He stood up and walked away, knees a little too close together for subtlety, concern giving way to blooming urgency. Careful steps turned into a panicked, if reasonably discreet shuffle; and the way was essentially cleared for Miranda and her ethereal passenger. She'd quickly sense Leonard leave for the Shadowlands, leaving her behind for an as-of-yet unspecified amount of time. For now, everything rested on what Aspasia would've taught her of her own training in Elysium.

Obviously, Aspasia had reached Earth in the last decades of short-wave radio's analog supremacy, but some things only seemingly changed in as far as their interface did. Where she would've seen Elysium's loyalists tinker with knobs and microphones, her daughter would now be presented with a fairly workable piece of hardware: a standard-looking desktop PC of which the only odd features had to be its high-gain Digital-Analog converter, its included set of pricey cans, along with a currently-displayed piece of software that handily allowed its user to select radio frequencies by number or by geographical range. After perusing a few drop-down menus and radio buttons, the younger Robertson would soon realize all she had to do was narrow down her band to the area Magnus' procurement teams covered, and deselect all standard military frequencies. The flurry of skittering callsigns that had initially been buzzing above the Eastern seaboard turned into a sparse collection of black dots over the coastline. Parsing them and finding Nami would still be some work, but at least she wouldn't blow their cover by unintentionally CQing a possessed Marines pilot.

Leonard's presence returned a few minutes in. "I haven't been able to find her craft's callsign, but I do know she followed Tom and Matriel's advice - she picked the least engaging target for an enemy pilot, instead of her usual flying fare. It limits her options in case of a dogfight, but it also means she gets into less confrontations, as long as she keeps to the standard spaceport freighter routines. That means her apoapsis is late whenever she does need to leave orbit, and that she enters the atmosphere conservatively, from several hundred miles off the shore, to give herself all the time she needs to decelerate."

Ephesian's vengeful spirit politely co-opted the girl's eyes. "Here - try panning to the right and scanning again. Allocer would've made it a point to have her tracked without interfering, as both a show of force and a gesture of cooperation. The Goat's re-enabled low-orbit piracy after destabilizing international waters, so Allocer would've made it a point to show his people could reliably support and supplant the Coast Guard and Spaceport Authorities. That's without mentioning how water still is Nami's element - I'm sure she's less worried about crashing or abandoning ship over open waters than she would be over Hope's shores."

* * *

Nereus smiled tenderly. "I love you, Meris," he said, then leaning in for a kiss, which was interrupted by the Curator coughing politely.

"Far be it from me to interrupt a certifiably Kodak moment, but I'd like to remind the parties involved we're still in Creeps McAsshole's Fortress of Solitude and Scandinavian Design at the End of the World. Leaving good vibes behind in a place like this would absolutely tip off Chrissy-poo and lead to Nereus' absconding from California being practically impossible. For both your sakes, you should stop glowing, get serious and follow me back outside."

The Augur looked a tad peeved, but still articulated it behind a smile. "Do you ever take things seriously, Curator?
- I take the world ending seriously enough, yes. No world means no minds within it, no minds means no Darkhallow, which means no me. I sort of have a vested interest in making sure Team Amaxi fails, in case that wasn't painfully obvious already. Everything else? If you were a hodgepodge of self-articulating memory engrams left free to edit the parameters of an entire species' consensual hallucination, I think you'd have a hard time not being jokey, too."

Nereus looked back to the group, focused on his son and briefly glowered. "One of these days, Buck... One of these days, I'll rip you out of my son's body, I'll make your soul corporeal and then use it to beat Chambers' hacking and wheezing body to a pulp."

He looked back outside. "Just as soon as the Gentlemen give me new tools..."

Another pause, after which he looked back to the Curator. "Alright - let's go. I can't keep napping like this for long, the others in the bunker are going to notice. Meris' friends are also waiting for her."

* * *

"Good," noted the pig. "That's good, 'cause a lot of these sick folks don't know me. I'm not a local, and I've still taken charge. Some people don't quite like that; they'll appreciate seein' healthy, familiar faces with some First Aid and basic trauma techniques."

* * *

Three pursed his lips together. "If only Doctor Wynn emerged again, we might have access to someone with some experience with vampires packing psychological trauma. As things are, he's been rampaging south of Centennial Park as Billy Hyde. It's been a blessing in some areas, but we really could use more brains than brawn, in a situation like this. The only other option I've got in mind is Archie's uncle, Forsythe, but he's been locked off in Austria following the incursions in and around Vienna."

Nybbas shrugged. "Going about isn't exactly a problem for us, or for Meris - or Abdiel, either. We could always mount a little rescue party, quick-like, get him on loaner from the Council's own refugees, then ship him back once we know Art isn't going to go Scorched Earth on Sophia or his own refugees. Seeing family might help the bloke."
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

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Aislinn considered her fellow warlock's question and hummed thoughtfully. "Well, my length is about 63" inches with the addition of my pelt, and I weigh around 135 lbs., so I guess my width is about this wide," she explained, widening her arms to a diameter of a couple feet across. I'm more on the petite side compared to my siblings."

***
Neasa briskly and sympathetically nodded to Archibald. "I'm sure we can find a Victorian milliner as soon as things settle down," Neasa responded. "In addition to greeting the Akari mystic, we need to update you on the developments downtown because they were certainly eventful."

She ducked her head into the living room and peered in at the T-rex. "Rendell, you've got a visitor we need your Paradise-based expertise to consult, since Aspasia isn't here. An Akari Oracle," she said before venturing back toward the elevator.

***

Miranda drifted her eyes over the screen and gazed at the various black dots. She mused that the Nephilim would have some affiliated call sign. Her gaze drifted to one labeled HOA. "That one could stand for Hope Orion Airport," she mused to the goat anthro.

***

Meris cast a final look at her possessed son's body and made to leave the area with a sigh.

***

"I can help with the familiarizing you with the locals and helping treat the patients. I'm no doctor or medic, but I have enough experience being around EMTs and nurses to know my way around," she admitted.

"When we manage to get out, Biggs might be able to help with getting people to trust you, since you're part of the crime underworld," she mused with a shrug. "Though, I doubt there mob boss conventions all that often."

***

""That's certainly worth an effort," Abdiel agreed. "He needs to be reminded of his connections so he doesn't feel abandoned," the angel noted. "Either before or after retrieving Titania's drum."
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

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Nergal and Otto exchanged a look, leading to the odd sight of a robe-sporting Warlock doing something other than wrangling a curse, hex or summons together. It wasn't often you heard bony charms jingle while patch cables were being stretched out between consoles and amps, and it also wasn't all that often that you got to see a horned skeleton mic-check an ad-hoc studio one device at a time.

"Walpurgis is already hard at work on the encryption chant in the White Speech," Nergal told Aislinn, as he worked. "All we need is enough lossless audio for something we can coherently loop together, enough bandwidth to upload the resulting file, and a few days for Whitney's hired sound engineers to combine both payloads. The Gentlemen and the Rothchilds have been trying to beat the Loyalists at their own game, so we have our own contacts at the VLA in New Mexico, across the border at Arecibo, and across the southern Atlantic, in Australia. If we had a few other posts, we might have been able to reliably create a sound cannon of sorts, like NASA's combining of data to create the first low-resolution images of a black hole's event horizon, seven years ago."

Otto grunted. "As it stands, with the Goat making it difficult to embed anyone in departments he's looking to cut down, all we can manage is a whirling sound noodle, rather than a cannon effect or a shockwave."

Alphonse, who'd wandered in, leaned on one of the security room's walls. "I'm no scientist, but I've backseat-watched enough of both of Cosmos' runs to understand signals decay quickly outside of the Earth's atmosphere. What's keeping Lucifer from confusing you with the roar of some star or cosmic radiation or, well, whatever else?"

Ereshkigal smirked. "Good question, Al. To answer you, we've got a third layer planned in the message, one we won't strengthen as much so it doesn't overwhelm either the Void Weaver carrier signal or Aislinn's calls."

She paused as she set a mic stand in place. "English prime numbers, listed in ascending order, encoded as a binaural beat. Every ten numbers, we'll cycle in Hope's coordinates in latitude and longitude. We couldn't possibly be any more deliberate or obvious."

* * *

Rendell's usual smug smile faltered somewhat. As Aspasia had already told others before, he'd learned not to mess with the Vanguard or the Akari. The bugs seemed to know his type by sight alone and opposed him out of what felt like a mix of sheer instinct and informed decision-making, while the Void-touched women and men clearly saw right through him. A true-blue egotist, Gregory didn't appreciate the company of those who didn't at least partially fall prey to his usual tactics - and he'd learned that the Vanguard were all capable of reading a room with utter precision and accuracy. Lying to Zoraya Nasir was a difficult proposition, while the Vanguard Queen was the type to let a lie go seemingly undetected for weeks, only to pull the rug out from under his feet with equal parts guile and sheer force.

The last time he'd tried lying to Helena Nasir, he'd almost lost Aspasia. He'd lost her anyway, obviously, but the Queen had stood ready to expedite the process and push the Blue Chimera's awakening along, if need be. Protis looked old and frail, but his exoskeleton still packed enough force to bend steel bars or turn staff strikes into chest-compressing injuries with a single hand. He had four of them to use.

Still, none of his reticence showed. "Well, then," he noted, "I hope the old bean's taken his supplements before coming here; his softer endo-skeleton has never known natural gravity.
- Speaking of supplements," noted Wormsworth, "Valefor murdered Allocer's attaché with Homeland Security, and allowed one of his goons to fly into a panic at my sight," he noted, eyebrow raised.

Archie opted to take it in jest, a good sign that he was recovering. "It must be the necktie. Or might it be the previously-glistening claws?"

The demonic lawyer chuckled, looking chuffed. "Keep at it," he said, "ten minutes of praise buys you a day and a half's worth of prolonged arcane barriers around the tower. Japes aside, one of the goons referred to me as the new Prince of Pride."

The Clank rolled his eyes and looked back at Neasa. "One truly does wonder why, hm? At the very least, one gets the sense that your Ego wouldn't salt the Earth and set the rest on fire."

Herbert pouted. "Well - my Ego might salt caviar on the sly, but razing my source of income wouldn't strike me as the wisest course imaginable."

Rendell looked away, looking bored. "How astute of you, Counsellor. I suppose you'll eventually tell me that your affable vanity mirrors my less-personable tastes?"

Wormsworth glanced at his fingernails. "I'm already growing self-aware as a mere figment of a larger Vice, mister Rendell. I'm a snob you could clink beers with, while you are, well..."

He shrugged lightly. "You are who you've set out to be, shall we say. There's scarcely little pride to be found in you, and I'm referring to equal parts self-respect and equanimity."

The demon then looked back to Neasa, slightly smirking as he did so. "I'm proud of Neasa, for instance. To use Aidan's repertoire, she kicked all kinds of ass today."

Archie couldn't repress a smile, at this. "My, could we possibly be growing on you, mister Wormsworth? Could the mortal plane's subtle wiles be ensnaring you ever closer?"

The demon smiled back. "Only if your mood's improved, Milord."

* * *

"Alright," murmured the spirit in the girl's mind, "try and isolate the other HOAs. Nami flies an Orion Shuttles Sojourner NX, so we might be able to shrink our sample size even further. Past that, if you use the computer to call the shuttles' flight logs, we should find evidence enough that one of them is Nami. It's unfortunate for us that Celestial power doesn't show up on radio waves - and we'll have to find some way to have her speak to you without your new colleagues overhearing you..."

There was a pause, the sense that Ephesian was parsing their available options. "Ranger and scout work can sometimes involve a little hacking, or so the shades of a few departed Blues told me... Once we've narrowed things down to two or three craft, you could always ping their service console and add something Nami might respond to."

A few more seconds passed. "You'll have to click on each dot on the map that's part of Nami's group, then access its terminal. In it, type @echo, followed by something she'd recognize but that wouldn't be a tip-off to anyone else. Try and make it look like gibberish, so the other pilots think they're seeing a mild display bug. Once Nami responds, you'll be able to text-chat with her. I wouldn't risk using the headset's microphone here, I'm already doing what I can to make you come across as being of least importance to the people in the room. I'm not exactly keen on the idea of having you marched outside by armed guards..."

* * *

The three of them left, the trip back being shorter than the one they'd initially taken. After a short trek, teleporting himself, Nereus and Meris back to the couple's shared space was as simple for the Curator as it might've been for a seasoned gamer to key in a set of in-engine coordinates. The dark-skinned Squid made a popping sound from behind his tentacles as the living room materialized around them, rocking back and forth on his heels with his hands behind his back.

"Welp," he said, "that was certainly something... The Loyalists are in on us and we're in on them, Amaxi's perennial victim is actually going to bust himself out, and someone in Heaven apparently isn't beneath whoring out brainwashed souls because the thought of a few horned and fire-breathing types getting an Accords-approved pension plan irks them. Makes you wonder why God didn't just use His powers and slap the culprit silly, like any decently disgusted parent would."

Nereus sighed. In the immediate, digesting the info he'd obtained seemed more pressing than expediently waking up. He made his way to where he and Meris used to keep drinks in the cupboard, and pulled out a glass and a small Scotch bottle. He sniffed the cork as he removed it. "At least neither of us ever drank Chambers' bourgeois swill," he said, grimacing at Meris. "Old Country or bust, I always say."

Pouring himself a tiny measure, more to steel himself than to numb himself, he glanced at his wife and then fished out another glass. "One for the road," he told her, smiling a tad as he did. The gesture looked a bit sad and not entirely convinced, but it was obvious that the revelations hadn't been enough to dull Nereus' newfound spirits.

With another small glass poured for Meris, he looked back to the Curator. "I'm not surprised that God hasn't acted. If it were as simple as the Creator waggling fingers at Their unruly children, it would've happened a dozen times before already. On some level, I think He or She simply can't control angels - not even Thrones. You can't half-ass free will, after all, and extra-planar beings have an extremely hard time manifesting independently in the waking world."

Conceding the Augur's point, the Curator nodded. "Hence certain mainlining figures, like Jesus Christ, Muhammad or Siddartha Gautama. Both avatars of the greater being and entirely independent individuals. You'd think our cowled friend would sense the Big Boss' disapproval, though.
- They probably do," agreed Nereus as he took a sip. "I've been around centuries' worth of teenagers, now - enough to understand that there's no greater force than a progeny's stubborn refusal to acknowledge a parent's authority. It doesn't help that God tries and come across as being more reasonable than the Others. He wouldn't shout them down or threaten to end their existence; that's Evangelical nonsense rooted in the Middle Ages. If you have thousands of years of existence to tap into, power enough to terrify mortals if you showed your true form and enough self-confidence to push on, why would you stop for that all-encompassing sense of parental love beckoning you forth for an old-fashioned heart-to-heart? It's toothless, but it's hard to escalate on responsibly."

The Curator scoffed as he took a stool at the kitchen counter, across from Nereus and Meris. "So much for the Old Testament's God," he said.

The Augur drained his glass. "That's mortal prejudice wrapped in supernatural airs, the clear product of self-serving minds taking the Artisan as a concept and twisting Her out of shape to suit their own needs."

* * *

"Well, there was one," shrugged Beliard, "but, uh, sayin' it's gone pear-shaped would be in extremely poor taste. Now, on the subject o' crime, erm..."

Having finished working on a few pieces of meat, he set them in a skillet. He'd cut them thin, likely to try and adapt steak for use in the taco or tortilla shells they'd recovered. Judging by his gestures, John knew his way around a paring knife. His big hands were surprisingly nimble, and he had the look of someone who'd at least spent some time in a butcher's shop, judging by the way he'd pared off lengths of tasteless fat and set them aside for later use. With resources being scarce, fat from the meat Crystal and the others recovered usually ended up serving as lubricant for the pots or as a component to be used in stocks or broths.

"If things go back to normal to at least some degree and I manage to open a channel with the Sicilians, I'll be around more," he told the Deputy Chief. "Now, I agree with the Commission in that things need to be kept civilized and restrained, but I haven't exactly been a choir boy, either," he told her. "I'm not one to ask for special favors. I'll do whatever time needs doing if that ever happens. All I ask is that you or your boys don't belittle myself or even Biggs' men. We've all done what we had to to survive, and we've all done what we could to save people. I'm human, like you. I've just had and took different choices for meself."

* * *

"After," chimed in Isaacs, "let's stay focused! The situation's bad enough in Centennial Park that Holden has about a baker's dozen worth of coping mechanisms to deal with; I doubt he's exactly crushed by anything resembling self-guilt."

Aidan's looks turned just short of glacial. "'Something tells me you haven't been outside long enough, Rupert. Your lack of sunlight is showing, along with your lack of empathy."
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

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Aislinn smiled wryly. "Well, Lucifer's in for quite the track. The Void Weaver carrier signal, a seal call that resembles the beginning of a Pink Floyd song, and our location," she lightly joked.

She then frowned thoughtfully and raised an eyebrow. "Once he does arrive here, is there going to be some welcoming party for him? Or are we going straight into conflict mode?" she asked.

***

Neasa assessed Archibald and could tell he was at least in better spirits than when they had left. "Glad to see your mood's improved, Archie. The hat might've not had anything to do with it, but our company seems to have brought more life to you than before," she noted.

"As for the declaration given by Valefor's minions, it's obvious they looked ahead with Angel Time and found the tides favored Herbert. They're feeling threatened even if they won't admit it; hence the failed ambush. We briefly allied with Allocer to take them out and secured the Freaks still have their means of secreting refugees and supplies. At least, Allocer is more agreeable to working with us than we anticipated originally. We'll just have to keep chinking away at that stubborn armor of his and have him see reality."

***

MIranda parsed through the HOAs and began searching through the shuttles' flights log via the computer. She pressed each of the dots to reach their terminal. Next followed the young Fauness's typing of @echo and an additionally, hopefully random seeming dai. She was familiar with the Nephilim's family through her mother and hoped that she knew that her grandfather was being referenced indirectly.

After a few minutes, a response came over the text-chat. Hai? Pairotto no Urakawa Nami ga kotaete imasu.

The teenager had to quickly recall the Japanese lessons from Aspasia and asked for her to speak in English. Okay, who's pinging me? I feel as though I know you.

Miranda typed back, Kinda-sorta. We need your help as an empath to possibly detect what's going on beyond that mass of vines in the Naughton area. Maybe even find some missing people.

Okay, where do you want me to pick you up at?

***

Meris thanked her husband and sipped the Scotch. "God values free will in mortals, angels, and demons, even when it leads to self-destruction. In any case, I'll explain what we found out with the others. Given the angel's anonymity, it'll be difficult to identify them, but we need to at least try."

***

Cyrstal let out a knowing sigh. "As the saying goes, "People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones." That applies here. Nobody's perfect and we've all made our mistakes in order to get by. I doubt anybody will squawk at your misdeeds without realizing theirs," she said.

***

Aspasia rolled her eyes. "Good luck with that. He has enough empathy as needed to complete his projects or dote over his favorites. After that, you're better off looking elsewhere for empathy," she retorted.

She sent a glare at the mad scientist and looked at Three. "We'll take each task as it comes. That's all we can do. Handling Azazel takes longer to prepare for, so retrieving the drum comes first; Arthur needs routine check-ups on his overall well-being, which we can start once we return the way we came," she explained.
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

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The married demonic couple exchanged a knowing look, a smirk touching both Nergal and Ereshkigal's faces. "It's Lucifer that we're referring to," replied Nelson Galbraith. "It'd be more à propos to expect him to scrap the welcoming part of a welcoming party. An atypical entrance is also on the menu. He'll obviously use Angel Time to groom himself for the occasion, being the more palatable origin behind the Goat's own debased pride, and probably openly wonder why we haven't uncorked champagne bottles at the first signs of his arrival."

Erin shrugged lightly. "He'll clown around for as long as he doesn't see anything in situ, but once he does, he'll get serious. Even then, his take on seriousness is fairly casual. He's more than capable, yes, but he's always refused to give dire moments their deserved gravitas. The planes being knocked loose and the Hereafter combining with the mortal plane might strike him as being nifty on the onset; he'll need to see the suffering the Goat's caused to be really goaded into action. Chances are he'll see some of it on his way down, though, so we'll see."

One of Sam's dock hands slipped a few words to Otto, who then in turn looked back to Erin and Aislinn. "We're ready for basic sound checks. You've time enough to fetch your pelt, liebeling."

* * *

"It shouldn't be too difficult," intuited Rendell, "my own sources reported on Allocer's inconstancy weeks ago. The man's burden of Pride comes from a different place than the Goat's. Not only this, but it is now firmly rooted in achievements carried out here, in the mortal plane. He tries to delude himself into believing that his little Infernal province will always stand and that the locals will eventually see him as a legitimate user of the City Hall's offices. Part of him wants to be kind towards us survivors, to act as he senses a mayor should act in times of crisis; but he has been staunchly indoctrinated against mortal weaknesses. The more we push back, the less benevolent he feels he ought to be."

He clicked his tongue. "Events are sure to lure our friend out of Washington and back onto familiar territory. When they do, Allocer will only require a push in the right direction. Even I know the value of certain virtues, after all. With Paimon having already defected  and with Allocer teetering on the edge, the Pride Knights' allegiance to the Goat is growing tenuous at best."

Wormsworth frowned. "And from where does Hope's favored megalomaniac hold such information?"

That left Rendell to laugh as he fished inside his jacket to recover a USB stick, which he handed to Neasa. "Feel free to parse through this, when time permits," he said. "I have eyes on sixteen regional commanders in the invading forces. Suffice it to say, Paimon is accruing more respect as a mere bouncer than Allocer is as a provincial lordling."

Herbert seemed puzzled by this, only for that vague sense of confusion to be replaced with a dawning sense of understanding. "Of course - Paimon chose his post. He asserted himself at his own behalf - the epitome of what Pride views as constructive behavior. Not only this, but he has integrated the resistance's efforts quite well. Seeing us accommodate him must have flattered a fair few of our higher-ranking enemies."

The elevator arrived at the last floor before the helipad's access stairwell, a short trek and one push-door separating them from the sight of Yelena's opened shuttle bay, a gangly six-foot-five creature waiting for them, huddled in what looked like an old moth-eaten cloak. Of its arms and legs, only two hands could be seen, firmly clutching what looked like a passively electrified bo staff and leaning heavily on it. Both hands were on the same side, three-fingered appendages covered in slightly iridescent chitin that almost looked sandy in texture. A third hand became visible, something like a subsonic grunt crossed with the trill of an insect escaping him, perhaps as a greeting. That third limb etched out what looked like a curtsy, then raising up to push back the cloak from its head. Protis looked fittingly insectile, two rows of eyes narrowing at their approach, then adjusting to the outside air. He had a strangely-shaped skull, almost like the back of a beetle's carapace, with more spines along with a few longer tendril-like segments reminiscent of the Yautja, of the Predator mythos. His mouth wasn't visible, however, with some sort of rebreather instead covering it, tubing disappearing behind his back and hidden behind his cloak. His clothes looked almost monastic in appearance, relegated to a red tunic of sorts, a loincloth, and bands that encircled all three of his visible wrists. They looked frayed, with what looked like faded alien script still visible on them to a degree.

A louder trill left him, along with a few clicking noises. They were soon covered by the sound of his rebreather hissing, and with a strangely nasal form of synthetic speech leaving his mouthpiece.

"The Void sees your plight, Terrans, and greets you well. The One with Pride has not sullied you yet. We should rejoice, yes?"

Rendell tried for surprise. "I was given to understand you still resented our last meeting, Elder."

Protis' eyes narrowed slightly. "The stars consume what elements they have, Ren-Dell. Help these people draw breath, and I will stay my hand."

He paused. "Not that I would not have preferred Spa-sia as a greeter."

Archie couldn't quite repress a smirk. "I assume you mean miss Robertson, or Aspasia, to be more precise."

Protis nodded, bowing slightly as he did. "Yes - many pardons. Your Eng-lish is taxing my translator. Some sounds are... difficult to make."

Archie seemed a tad surprised. "You aren't speaking English? Unless I was hallucinating, your Queen's idiom was passable, less than a few seconds ago."

Somehow, the way Protis' four eyes narrowed managed to suggest he'd just grinned, behind his rebreather. "Earth-speak is impossible for my kind," he replied. "As impossible as Akari-speak would be for you. This machine speaks for me."

Heathcliff nodded. "No larynx or syrinx, but the Akari have strong esophageal muscles, enabling them to produce hisses and clicks, moans or purring noises. Akari grammar, like their bodily expression, is extremely subtle and nuanced. Many Terrans and Paradise natives tend to have difficulty parsing greetings from threats, or an economy of gestures from the pacing of a stalking predator. That fact has colored the rest of Paradise's culture for the better part of the last ten thousand years."

Protis produced a croaking noise, his head tilting in an almost bird-like manner. "The lower spirit has learned of our ways, I see. I am honored."

He stepped forward, something in his posture suggesting he was better suited to skittering dashes on all sixes, a bit like William Spector's Wisps. He didn't exactly look uncomfortable, but instead looked like he knew how odd his gait must have seemed, forcing himself to keep his torso clear and arms down, in a posture that would've seemed open and confident in any standard humanoid. It didn't quite work all that well for him.

* * *

Leonard's tightly-coiled excitement lightly bloomed in Miranda's own chest. "Where to now? Where could we send her to?"

A pause. "Tell her to request landing at the Sons of the White Dragon's tower - it's just outside of the East end of Allocer's enclave. The occupation never managed to take Taiyang Shen Temple - Shen Long's Wanderer holds Joyful Death. They refer to it as Wenshu, and you could compare it to a Chinese Excalibur. If the Sword of Wisdom can't cover Nami's approach, nothing will. There's only one checkpoint for us to cross, and the Sons watch over it closely. We can be there in five minutes by bus. It'll afford her the safest takeoff possible and a short travel time to Winters' old neighborhood. That way, if we need to hastily retreat, neither Nami or both of us will be in any severe danger for too long."

There was another moment of silence. "Past that, if we're cornered, we should tell Nami to fly off to Wyvern's tower. Magnus Haraldson holds to Allocer's rules of non-engagement, but he won't have any compunctions about shooting down entreprising Pitspawn. They cost him his friend and mentor, for one, and if I know my Draugr well enough by now, they're still in mourning following Aldergard's death. They won't suffer further aggression, which works well for us."

* * *

"We'll sift through suspects once we've spoken to a few angels ourselves," nodded Nereus. "My kind's animosity for Gabriel and the Thrones rule them out without question, so we at least know that nobody obvious is on our docket. We can't prove that Uriel Lightbringer is or isn't involved, at this stage, and Hope now happens to be host to close to six hundred minor angels, all with varying levels of understanding or attachment towards Gabriel's mission statement. Point in fact, there isn't a single city in the world that hasn't gone cross-planar, by now. Unfortunately for us, the Artisan accidentally created master spies in molding together beings who could fit in at any point in time and in any place. Angels unused to the mortal plane would have difficulty hiding or modifying their body language, which would make them lousy liars - but that's nothing Angel Time can't fix."

The Curator made a face. "I hate cheaters. I say that, and I'm a cheater by definition!"

* * *

"That's good to hear," replied John, sounding fairly relieved. "Now, let's finish working on this chow, and then we'll get to the antenna and the people in quarantine."

With Andrea's help, the rest of the food preparation process went on swimmingly. Meals were prepared for the coming evening and then set aside safely to be cooked later. All the while, people came and went from the Harp & Blackthorn looking relieved to see both the Deputy Chief and mobster bring about some semblance of normalcy. That done, the pig washed his hands one last time and gave his two colleagues in misfortune a lopsided smile.

"See you topside," he said, "I'll go get the antenna aligned. God willing, you'll see your Johnny again," he told Crystal. "Or, well, you'll at least hear him."

* * *

Isaacs settled with a grumpy cross of his arms across his chest, Three rolling his eyes at that. "Let's make our way back to Meris' room, she's bound to wake up by the time we get there. I'm just glad we'll get to check in on Vernon and Eir by the same measure.
- You mean indirectly, right?" asked Melmoth, which had the soldier nod. "If the King and Queen can't grant us an audience, then they'll pass us on to the Fae's branch of the MI6 - or maybe back to their FBI attaché. Bill Spector's been stationed in London since the later incursions."

The Broker nodded. "Kill two birds with one stone: the King and Queen have extra protection, while the former White King gets to stick close to Oberon's Hearth; which should grant him some resistance to demonic possession or suggestion. Being one of Mab's earlier projects, he's probably glad for the help. He's bound to have intel regarding the state of Faerie."
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

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Aislinn nodded. "I'll be right back," she said. Normally, the roane would have kept her precious sealskin in a chest in the quarters she shared with Tom. However, given the potential need to flee at a moment's notice, she kept it in a bag that was housed in bar's office in a safe. She disappeared in the the elevator and ventured off to said area.

In due time, there was a ding from the elevator as Aislinn returned. It might have otherwise been an odd sight for a harbor seal to come through the sliding double doors. Her coat was a silvery gray with numerous black splotches and flecks from the tip of her snout to the end of her flippers. The underside was a lighter shade of gray, and her dark eyes shimmered with amusement at the notion of contacting Lucifer in this form.

She let out a trilling call as though to say, "Let's get this show on the road!"

***

Neasa took the flash drive from Rendell, while casting a look at Protis. "Is there anything we can get for you?" she asked him. "As for Aspasia, she's away on an assignment. When she returns, I'm sure she'll be happy to fill in for Rendell," she addressed.

She then smiled awkwardly at not having introduced herself. "Oh, I'm Neasa McConmara, by the way. I'm pleased to meet you." Given that the selkie's first name was composed of two syllables, she hoped it would be easier for the Akari elder to pronounce.

***

Miranda typed in, Request landing at the Sons of the White Dragon's Tower. If we run into trouble, we'll fly to Wyvern Tower. We'll meet you there.

Nami responded, Roger. Be careful and be sure to delete the chat. You'll want to cover your trail.

***

Meris shrugged. "The longer someone lives, the more tempting cheating becomes," she admitted, finishing her Scotch. She then approached the shapeshifting squid. "Thank you very much for your help, Curator. I hope to see you again soon," she told him, hugging him the shoulders.

***

"Hopefully so," Crystal responded with a forlorn sigh. "See you topside," she replied. Andrea tidied her end of things and washed her hands before joining her mother. Both werevwolves clambered to the roof where the antenna was.

***

Aspasia grunted. "That would be good to find out. As hard as Coach and the others are working to open the Faerie Gate, they're not making much headway," she admitted. "I can see why the they closed it, but there's also the issue of having no idea of what's happening on their side," she bemoaned, then heading for Meris's quarters. Abdiel followed after her.
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

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Being respectively a Warlock and demon, Otto and Nergal had done more than their fair share of travels. They'd seen their lot of fantastical things, but very little could've prepared anyone to the sight of a harbor seal galumphing along the floor's walkway, heading towards the impromptu recording booth. A few of George Gammell's protégés and a pair of Void Weavers gave the selkie looks that were both amused and a tad confused. Not everyone had been around Aislinn often enough to put two and two together. Once they did, however, a few among them opted to try and step forward to help the seal along. Alphonse recognizing when helpfulness risked turning detrimental, he opted to gently interpose himself, reassuring Animate, demon, angel and Weaver alike and making sure the roane wouldn't be forced to spare time for onlookers when she'd only just received crucial information to structure in a focused call.

At the very least, Galbraith opted to hold the studio's door open for her, while Otto tried to set up a small step ladder and a few small pillows; something she'd be able to clamber onto to more easily reach the microphone.

"If I'd had more time to plan ahead," added Walpurgis' protecting spirit, "I would've peeked forwards in time to pick Lucifer's favorite genres ahead of time; added keyboards or guitars to the mix."

The way he'd phrased things, it seemed obvious that he wasn't exactly expecting Aislinn to speak in return. Nergal might've looked a bit Spartan and imposing, but like Coach or other liches, he somehow managed to give himself a bit of a wry look.

* * *

"Stars greet you, Neah-saa," came Protis' synthesized reply. "I will manage - long has it been since my people stood on a World. My waking hours will not be long for the first few days, I fear."

Heathcliff nodded in understanding. "You've had generations to adapt to artificial gravity, and now are the first Akari to stand on natural soil. Your core muscle groups will undoubtedly be exerted, at first."

The alien nodded. "I sighted much open space from the top of your tower. I had grown used to my homeland's curving walls on the horizon. A broodling would wonder why you do not fall towards the sky."

Rendell kept his gaze away. "You'll manage, old boy," he said. "Caliban and I obviously have."

Archie's phone pinged, the Clank muttering apologies as he bent down to look. A few seconds in, his eyebrows creaked as he furrowed them. "Look here," he said, handing his phone to Neasa, "does this look like a text Tom would have sent willingly?"

Meeting with Bres proceeding well. Fomorians eager to help - very reasonable demands. Please come.

He didn't wait for the roane's assessment, instead immediately slipping a hand past two of his vest's buttons. Seeing this, Herbert frowned lightly. "Mechanical heartburn?" he  asked.

Holden scoffed lightly. "Something to that effect, I suppose," he groused, as he wound up his turn-key and tilted his head left and right a few times, as if to elicit neck pops.

"Well, if my associate were here," noted Wormsworth, "we would have a noteworthy bargaining chip, should our friend the incubus be under a Fae Oath. It wouldn't surprise me if we were to learn of the Fomorians' countless victims - all denied justice. Without Leonard, my options are somewhat limited."

Heathcliff crossed his arms against his chest at that. "For goodness' sake, Wormsworth, you're a demon. Don't let your own moral progress take away from the fact that you can break down Bres into a walking class-action suit without Ephesian and his Judicator powers. You're a recovering snob, he's a rabid dog in a designer supermodel's body. Use that to your advantage.
- Oh, really?" challenged the attorney, "and what is your plan, mister Heathcliff, without Melmoth's resources to rely on on such short notice?"

The dark-suited demon lightly parted his right arm, what looked like a pair of leather briefcases appearing, sandwiched between his side and his arm. He shifted his arm and his hold on them, handing Herbert his own monogrammed case. "If it'll save Tom and if Tom needs saving," he said, "I'll break down the Fomorians' campaign budget. The older the immortal, the more crippling the oversights. After spending so much time in the shadows, there's no way they can so much as afford to pull the rug from underneath our feet and somehow assume control of the Resistance. On your end of things, you'll find about, oh, forty-two druidic conclaves' worth of the early mortals' and the Tuatha's grievances with them. If Tom is locked under Oath, it falls as bad posturing on Bres' part."

Wormsworth looked like he still needed convincing. "And if this fails?
- If this fails," noted Rendell, "you have an Automaton trained in lethal combat, a regenerating Green Chimera, a selkie possessed of superhuman strength and a wizard from space. I say this knowing Bres will wish to keep matters as courteous as possible, being what he is. He will take notice of the threat we pose, believe you me."

* * *

Leaving City Hall took some effort, Ephesian taking note of a few blind spots before finding one large enough for him to manifest corporeally again. The short walk that followed made it clear Pitspawn were now integrating every facet of the city's infrastructure. Being still in Allocer's enclave, no examples of abuse could be found, but the few cops and office workers they crossed that had enough power to skip obtaining a body clearly enjoyed lording it over the rest of the populace. Getting past the final checkpoint before the temple required a bit of stealth, but the drudgery of it all visibly made the stationed demons less alert than they should've been. All things considered, reaching the temple hadn't been too difficult.

Entering it would be more of a challenge. 

Taiyang Sheng Temple was a simple enough affair, with an interior courtyard clearly designed to cut the temple proper out of the surrounding cityscape, and to provide the faithful with a small oasis of tranquility. With four gates - one on each side - a central fountain and the temple proper being a small building that obscured the Eastern gate, it barely had enough space for Nami to eventually land. Even then, her doing so would obviously ruin the floral arrangements and small water garden that occupied one of the corners. Three of the four gates looked to have been seized by Allocer's forces, what looked like a zombie with glowing eyes and riot gear noting their presence with a grunt and the narrowing of its eyes.

"Feel free to enter, scum," he said. "Pray all you like," he told them. "We'll take your tower soon enough."

Once past him, the reception warmed up considerably, with youths clad in festooned varsity jackets showing dragonscale patterns and a few older folks from the local pan-Asian community taking notice of their arrival. Seeing them, a young man who'd been working on what looked like ad-hoc first aid supplies smiled and looked back to the temple proper, dark eyes twinkling. The Sons of the White Dragon might have suffered as much as anyone else in the invasion, it didn't change the fact that they were fighters at heart, and hand-picked for their psychological resilience.

"Yo, boss!" he called out in Mandarin, then switching back to English. "We've got folks from the tower coming in!"

That said, he approached them while giving the zombified grunt a hard look. "Don't mind Crusty," he told the goat and Chimera, "he's just sad our magnanimous mayor hasn't given him leave to tear-gas innocents left and right," he said, adding a sarcastic smirk for effect. "I'm Kevin Yip, one of the Red Poles for the gang."

Leonard shook the outstretched hand. "Pleased to meet you, Kevin. I'm Leonard Ephesian, and this is Miranda Robertson. I might be rusty, but I didn't know Red Poles could advertise themselves openly."

Kevin smiled. "You're a Sons greenhorn, sir," he said. "Shen Long's taken a Hong Kong triad and turned it into Hope's less-conspicuous vigilante army. Goons with subsidized higher-education programs, no protection rackets, good fists and feet - and even better hearts.
- Glad to hear it, then," noted the anthro. "How are things with the occupying force?"

Kevin pursed his lips together as he led the pair in. "Tense is how I'd put it. Allocer wants us to join in under pretext of better protecting the refugees and innocents, but Sifu says Allocer's heart and mind are troubled. He can't figure out how to reconcile his charge as a peacekeeper, his ego as a former Pride Knight and what he wants to be as a mayor. He'll have to make a choice, someday. For now, he doesn't attack us and we don't attack him, and he routinely lets some of our raiding parties out through the Eastern gate. We're beating back Valefor no matter if we're with or against him, so he knows he has more to gain out of letting us handle things here.
- That can't last much longer," noted Ephesian. "Sandhill practically belongs to Valefor, he'll have been busy amassing forces.
- We know," noted Kevin. "It's exactly why we've pulled our own WMD out of the mothballs; Joyful Death being wielded by a Wanderer. I'm taking you to John right now."

* * *

"I'd say In your dreams, McConmara, but that'd be too easy of a joke," replied the Curator. "If you end up here the next time you nod off, you might catch me somewhere around here," he said, looking back towards the front baywindow. "You've got one of the roomier headspaces I've seen in a while; I could pull a Delmar that you'd probably never find my flat on your own."

He initially started towards the closet he'd first appeared in, then slightly winced. Adding a smirk and a wink, he opened the front door and briefly looked back towards the pair. "Good luck in California, Nereus," he said. "Knock 'em dead - and keep us posted."

Nereus waited until the Curator had closed the door and walked off, hands on Meris' shoulders as he hovered behind her. Once he was gone, he sighed deeply, the resulting exhalation kept quiet, and shifted his hands to hug her waist from behind. He then rested his chin on her shoulder.

"I'll let you wake up," he told his wife, his tone now quiet. His determination wasn't gone, but it had stepped aside; leaving space for tenderness and empathy.

"Kiss me one last time," he quietly requested. "I'll be on the run for a while; I'll need something to hold onto - and I'd like for you to wake up with all the hope you've given me."

His tentacles slowly, tenderly traced her jawbone. "The next time I'll hold you like this, I won't have to let go ever again. We'll have each other, finally."

* * *

Impromptu guardrails and suicide barriers had been set alongside the pub's rooftop, panels of amalgamated wood, steel sheeting and planks delineating what looked like chunks of the front porch's summer terrace that had been hefted upstairs. From two stories up, the neighborhood's barrier of black brambles and tortured half-possessed bodies could be clearly seen, so dense as to look as though someone had smeared a snapshot of the next six blocks in black marker ink. The remainder of the city looked painfully close, planes and helicopters avoiding John, Crystal and Andrea's patch of sky, smoke still rising from the now long-silent rooftop of Magnus Tower. The disturbed seasonal weather had given rise to brooding skies, patches of dark cyan poking through soot-gray clouds. Cold winds still blew in from Canada, competing for dominance with the occasional cloying waft of Brimstone. High above, winter still reigned. Down here, an unnatural summer heat had given the air a quiet, almost suffocating texture. 

What Belliard had set up weeks ago didn't exactly look graceful, but it had at least proven it could send and receive laser pulses from Paradise. A Drifter Blueskin's attic in Renton had been stuffed with alien electronics, which the pig had patiently marshaled in service as an antenna. An old Alienware laptop sat on a stool, connected to what looked like an ad-hoc telescope covered in designer chrome, itself festooned with solar panels. The array whined and protested as John pointed it to Magnus Tower's own array. Apparently not being much of a touch typist, the mobster made it look like pairing to the tower's network was a Herculean task, as stumped as he frequently seemed to be with the safety protocols Magnus had had his team set in place. On a separate window, an extremely laggy chat played out as Paradise contacts relayed what their remote view allowed them to see.

It took a while, but the pig finally turned back to the werewolves.

"Yep - I think I've got your man," he told Crystal. "See that line there? That's, um, a network address number, and it's a low one. If Magnus is carrying his own cell phone signals outside of what the law allows under Goatsie, then he probably had everyone's phone hooked to an emulated carrier - or so the boys from up there tell me. As to which one's Holden, all we need to do is see if we can't wake up a few remotely."

He looked back to Crystal. "Betcha ten bucks Holden's found a paisley wallpaper and a Victorian skin for Android phones."
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

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Aislinn had also brought along a small bag containing her clothes and eyed the bag. While she couldn't respond vocally, her telekinesis took its place, "My cellphone's in the bag's side pocket. You could parse through the music files and find something that you think would effectively accompany my call and the White Speech. You may not know his personal tastes, but my collection's pretty varied. There's probably something you can use."

In the meantime, she carefully scuttled up the step ladder and settled onto the pillows. She lightly grunted to indicate she was ready whenever he was.

***

"All of us and my sister, once she finishes with her own task," Neasa added. "If Tom's really in trouble, she'll probably fly in here like Captain Marvel and give Bres one option: cooperate or literally tear him a new one. While she hasn't become arrogant, Aislinn's gotten a bit more bravado to her since becoming a warlock."

***

At the mention of the term Wanderer, Miranda recalled her mother's explanation of how Rendell had killed another Wanderer by the name of Watatsumi, but that particular wanderer preferred curses rather than bestowing luck on others. "My mother told me a little about Wanderers. The one she knew of died by Rendell's hands, but he didn't sound much better than Rendell himself. I assume Joyful Death's a sword wielded by someone with a much kinder demeanor," she noted.

Meanwhile, it didn't take long for Nami to zero in on for the Taiyeng Sheng Temple, given that her aircraft could make it to Paris within a few hours. Given the tight space of the courtyard, she regretfully and carefully lowered the Orion shuttle down into the space and unfortunately disturbed the water feature and the flowers. She kept the craft away from them as much as possibly, but the landing wheels crushed the surrounding rocks of the area. As she climbed out of the cockpit, she bowed politely and offered a deep apology to it before disembarking completely.

***
The Archmage smiled. "I look forward to that, my love. You'll be sure to see me soon enough, and I'll have enough fury in me to put a banshee to shame, when it comes time to pick you up," she noted with some amorous defiance.

Meris nuzzled Nereus's face as she leaned in to kiss him. As she had done so earlier, she imbued the liplock with even more sensory details than would normally be felt in the Darkhallow. The Void Weaver would feel the exact diameter of her lips, the softness of them. He'd even pick up the faint taste of the alcohol she had drank. Strands of her hair tickled his tentacles as she closed in, completing the sensory smorgasbord. With the kiss, he'd feel all of her devotion, love, and sheer will to ensure their eventual meeting in a few weeks.

***

Crystal lightly smirked. "Probably, knowing him," she replied. She found another adjustable stool to seat herself on and began looking for anything familiar that would indicated her automaton beau's smartphone and finally pinpointed the number she thought was his.
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

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Nergal looked like he was about to consider her suggestion, but seemingly thought better of it. They didn't have a complex set of mixing tools or software to go along with them, anyway. The back of the phone had barely been slipped out of the bag that he pushed it back in with a finger and a smirk.

"I think I'll pass," he said. "I'm an old warlord in fancy clothes, and something tells me you've got some of Meris' wordliness. I've still got gaps to fill between Mesopotamia and the Alamo, if you catch my drift."

Al Biggs fiddled with a few knobs on a console, Erin gently pushing his hands away as a quiet squawk of unwanted feedback was heard. Still, the gesture hasn't been particularly brash or admonishing, leaving the gargoyle to shrug and turn back towards the proceedings.

"Speaking of the Alamo," he asked, "how does Walpurgis reconcile the tensions between the American colonists and Mexico?"

The bat-faced Warlock scoffed gently. "The fact is, we do not, Herr Biggs. The rest of Texas is free to dabble in revisionist history, we of Walpurgis harbored displaced Mexicans as well as those few courageous enough to recognize oppressors in their own numbers. When the State admonished us for not aiding their colonization efforts, we only had to look to our Nexus as reason enough to avoid further strife. We've defended our borders with the living and dead alike, the empowered and the mundane. We remember the Alamo for what it truly is - a black scar on the record of a country founded in freedom and equality.
- Somethin' tells me you don't get along with Dallas' practitioners, Otto," joked Al, to which the Warlock snickered.

"I'll settle with saying I haven't met many an Evangelical or Republican mage," he said. "The arcane's requirement of an open mind isn't something dogmatic thinkers are suited for - but all this is beside the point, as it is. We'll discuss academic politics once Fraulein McConmara has a working human jaw again," he said, winking at the selkie.

A few sound checks passed, Aislinn being asked to voice various calls as well as a few vocalizations that probably weren't part of your standard seal repertoire. A regular harbor seal wouldn't have been able to pick up on the surrounding mics' range and gain, but something to the effect of a few scaling calls had the virtue of letting this very sapient seal figure out where to position the sounds she'd eventually produce. Soon enough, Nergal with sleeves rolled and Geier with bone armor removed both stepped aside and nodded encouragingly.

"I think we're ready," said the demon.

* * *

The elevator stopped in Club Ishtar's lobby, a short hike across the dance floor taking the group to Aislinn and Tom's private elevator. A few steps away from the cabin, Bres' influence in the space above them became manifest as a vague sense of unease that made Protis emit a Predator-worthy clicking moan. His mouthpiece seemingly interpreted this as something worthy of translation, the robotic voice awkwardly spouting Non-verbal sounds of concern, in these exact words, three times. That earned him an amused look from a few of those involved.

"Apologies," then stated his proxy voice. "I left in a hurry, could not back up complete Eng-lish transliterations."

Archie rolled his shoulders in response to the vague sense of displeasure that had briefly washed over him. "No harm done old boy, your English is passable and my verbal Karthian components are still those of an infant's. My Mandarin, on the other hand, just might not get me killed, if I were to use it in one of Hong Kong's seedier corners..."

Protis' crackling chuckles sounded, soon followed by the second cabin depositing them in Tom and Aislinn's lobby. The heavy pall of a fully-asserted Fae presence hit them all like a slap in the face as the doors opened. Tom and Bres were seemingly chatting pleasantly despite this, the Warlock's dark chuckles sounded at what had to have been a pleasant retort from the head of the Fomorians. Outside on the pool deck, figures that looked like vaguely frumpy and suit-clad humans and anthros paced across the concrete next to the still-unfilled pool, their forms oddly rippling when Protis met their gaze. Terran Veils apparently didn't do too well against Akari magic...

"...no, no - rest assured, Your Majesty, your terms are perfectly reasonable. So many in Mertown have already relocated, your claiming a few houses shouldn't cause an issue. Failing that, I have ways of making people willingly collaborate..."

Tom and Bres were seated in the living room, one on each side of the long couch that sat across from the fireplace. Tom was nursing a thin cigar and a small globe of Scotch, while Bres sat across from him, his fingertips daintily supporting what looked like an old and yet still fizzing and frosted glass of sparkling water. The warthog was the same as ever, except perhaps for the way his head swayed as he looked back to the group. It looked like he was on the sociable and verbally capable side of inebriation, with just a little less motor impairments to be expected. Of course, it could be he was using his status as a possessing incubus to override a greater case of intoxication. Bres, on the other hand, could have been a poster child for the Carmilla or Ordo Dracul vampires, as possessed as he was of what looked like every ounce of sybaritic Celtic beauty. Blue eyes under blonde locks, eyebrows to make Lestat de Lioncourt die out of sheer jealousy, and a fine, almost rakish smile. The almost white tips of elongated True Fae ear pinna could barely be seen, something to his too-perfect murky blues reminding Rendell of a few Void Weaver patsies he kept on payroll.

"Please," he asked, his voice tinted by the barest, clearest hint of an Irish accent over a Trans-Atlantic groove; "do come in, make yourselves at home. You already are, after a fashion," he said, "and mister Magnus has been an absolutely faultless guest. Your Tuatha friends might not agree, but we of Faerie's depths understand your plight more than you think. Tom and I believe you're all owed a look at our provisos, before we proceed."

Herbert fiddled with a ring on his off-hand. "Yes, I believe you'll have to excuse me if I state it is Tom's duty to welcome us, as both the host and an observer of the old customs."

He offered the Warlock a saccharine smile. "Won't you see us to our seats, dear friend?
- Why bother," asked Tom. "You've come here before, you all know my home - I mean, apart from our Akari friend, here, whose name I haven't caught yet - so you can pick whichever seat you'd like."

Archie offered Neasa a bit of a look, then lifting his grip on his cane so it wouldn't touch the ground. "Fair enough," he added, sounding like it wasn't much of anything to worry about, as he picked an armchair. If Neasa knew the spy by now, she'd know the more effortlessly he affected a lack of concern, the more it possibly hid a now-calculating and observant mind.

* * *

Leonard looked vaguely self-conscious. "It isn't really the place to spout lore, but legends say Joyful Death was the gift Shen Long offered to a swordsman descended from Xia and close to the dragons' martial training, in the hopes that a martial superhuman would repel Emperor Qin all by himself. It didn't quite pan out, but China would split and re-unify twice after Qin's end. It doesn't help that the first of Shen Long's Wanderers is sometimes called Shao Kang, or Du Kang - the mythical inventor of wine and alcohol proper."

Out of the temple's shadowed porch walked a tall and sturdy fellow, an anthro panda in jeans and a tee-shirt, a loose blessing jacket having been thrown on top. He sedately nursed a Budweiser as he walked down the few steps ahead of him, then giving Nami a waved greeting that served as half a beckoning gesture and half a non-verbal call for her to stop worrying about her craft's caused damage.

"I haven't lost my taste for it since the first cask I ever brewed," he stated, his tone breezily local and casually low. "Not a lot of drunken boxers tend to actually get more dangerous or precise the more sloshed get, and I've got enough chi in my liver to cheat my way past cirrhosis or addiction for the next century!" he joked, outstretching a hand for both the goat and Nephilim.

"John Shou, corner store cashier by day, on-call vigilante on weekends," he said. "I haven't crossed paths with Shield much, seeing as my beat's Chinatown."

Leonard shook the offered hand. "So you remember each of your previous lives - each of your deaths...
- Welp, not quite like an immortal might," countered the panda with a moue. "Details get hazy and lifetimes I spent waiting in the rinks on Sifu's request tend to fade out unless I ended up with a great family or a circle of friends - but yeah. The violent stuff does stick out some. Dying and being reborn, for starters, reawakening after spending five or six years as a half-conscious little snot and realizing I can't reach my own top shelves anymore - the usual. Those pop moments usually aren't too great, but it's a sacrifice I was ready for, the first time around."

Kevin smirked. "An adult in a kid's body. I'll never get tired of the stories, honestly. Tactical tantrums, was it?"

The panda shrugged. "When you're expected to behave like a child because you're in a child's body, you start to figure out how to make the whole kid stuff work for you. You whinge and moan for Dad to buy you hockey gear, but you're really trying to find a sport that's demanding enough for you to bulk up over time, maybe work up enough muscle mass and added inches for martial arts to make sense again."

* * *

While Archie's screen didn't immediately turn on back in the penthouse, Crystal was soon met with an emulated big-screen version of the Clank's usual user interface. Belliard kept his reaction muted, but he did briefly grit his teeth and raise a fist, a hissed Yes! slipping past.

"We're in business!" he then said, his tone a bit more normal now. "You can try emailing him as himself, or maybe send a text to his own phone number."

* * *

Love and determination were sent back to Meris, Nereus' warmth turned into the warmth of her covers and of her room in the mesa's fortress, and her mind soon returned to the waking world, the Augur's essentially multiple lips feeling like phantom caresses on her cheeks and neck.

A few moments passed, with Naberius soon managing a polite knock on her doorframe. "Milady?" he asked, choosing to address her by her title whilst in her own palace, "your friends have finished. They're ready to depart - to Faerie, it seems."
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

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Aislinn offered a faint smile and nodded in agreement. Her snout opened, revealing her sharp teeth. Given that they had required a warning to rouse Lucifer back to Earth, she emitted a series of fast, high-pitched chirps, pulses, and trills. After those sounds, she followed with an extended baying bark. The roane then looked over at Nergal and Otto to see if those would work or if they needed more sounds to complete the transmission.

***

Neasa obliged the warthog's nonchalant request and also found an armchair to be seated in. She then cast her gaze on the warlock, offering him a slightly glacial smile. "Tom, why didn't you call my sister in here to help in setting up those provisos? She's one of the main people to keep this place running, so I think that would have been wise since she's effectively the Lady of the complex."

***

Since the text message seemed quicker, Crystal typed into the chat, Archie, it's Crystal. I'm texting you through the Tower's network. Andrea and I are safe in Naughton with John Belliard, but the vines are blocking our access to the rest of Hope.

***

"That's certainly smart tactically," Nami agreed with a characteristically cheerful smile. "Mind you, not all martial arts demand bulk. It helps, but have a lithe frame makes squirming out a tight space easier. I'm Nami Urakawa, by the way, Mr. Shou."

"You say that like you've had some recent experiences with that," Miranda observed.

"I have," the Nephilim answered with the same smile, now tinged by her annoyance with her foes. "Allocer's Creep Force isn't too keen on having a half-breed like me around at Orion, so they've been making my job...interesting lately. Two of my coworkers have been completely taken over by demons, others have been forced to resign. The one plus to being an empath lately is picking out everything from passive-aggressiveness to outright threats."

Similar to her mother, the young Fauness grunted in distaste. The pilot then smiled fondly at the kid. "Hence why I was glad to get your message. Each of the Vices have their distinct aura and vibration, so I should be able pick up who's behind the complete inaccessibility."

***

Comforted by the lingering kiss, Meris slowly woke up and rose when she heard Naberius's knocking at her doorway. "Faerie? Wasn't expecting that, but it's just as well," she admitted as she got out of the bed and remade the covers. "I've learned of another plot that's ahead of us, this time involving the Chamberlain, Aidan's military past, and a rogue angel who wants to interfere with our plans," she explained somberly as she approached the canine anthro.
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