Chapter VII - Healing Pains

This is what you came here for. Adventure, intrigue, murder, mystery and action - plus a healthy dose of boring everyday stuff. One continuous story-line, broken up into smaller themes for easier consumption.
Post Reply
User avatar
TennyoCeres84
Site Admin
 

Posts: 2929
Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:59 am

Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains

Post by TennyoCeres84 »

Aislinn scoffed. "That might be, but we'll likely still keep some bouncers on the payroll," she acknowledged. "Even as talented as you are, immortal or not, it's not good to leave responsibilities on the shoulders of one person."

She smiled lightly at Tom and mentioned, "He also seems like he's got a good eye for detail. I didn't even see that the table was out of alignment."

"Neither did I," Ciaran added.

The tattooist then ventured to the office and retrieved a printout, placing it on the countertop as she came back. "That's a list of the state liquor laws that allows us to remain in business. We get the occasional minor who thinks they're grown up enough to handle alcohol and pass themselves off as being at least 21 years old with a fake ID," she explained.

"Some including one of your younger sisters," she added. "She's going by the name of Alice and in the body of a hormone-driven teenager. She might technically be old enough to pass the age law due to being spiritually thousands of years old, but she's got the same attitude as some of the teens who find their way in here."

"We can't give her a drink, so how would you handle her, in case she feels like showing her face around here?" she asked.

Ciaran said nothing as he watched his sister present the stapled pieces of paper to the incubus, but his mind briefly flashed to memories of a livid Aislinn after Alice's attempt at seducing Tom during a nap.

***

The mention of a few clients scaring Abigail, one of True Fae, made Aspasia take notice. However, it didn't show on her face. They needed to get Azazel some suits, but finding out who or what those three clients were was also of importance.

"Well, if you get in touch with Meris and she introduces you to Nickar, I'm sure you'll have a lot of success of getting other, less threatening clients in here. My combat suit wasn't near as fancy as Abdiel's, but Nickar also knows how to pick out the right weapon to fit the wielder's personality," she noted.

"He selected an Infernal-birch hybrid for a bow that shoots like a dream, along with high-quality arrows," she described fondly. "It's more in the style for what the Fauns of old would've used."

The satyress fished out her cellphone and smiled at the ethereal retail worker. "How about this? I'll see if Meris can join us, and you can talk to her while we get Azazel some warded suits that are appropriate for the event he'll be attending in a few days."

"Meris is pretty nice. I don't think she'd make you jump through a bunch of hoops to meet Nickar at some point," Miranda supplied to Abigail. "She'd probably also be able to help with a certain trio of clients, given how much she's seen in her life."

Aspasia looked over at her daughter with an amused expression and chuckled. "Trying to sweeten the deal, Mira?" she joked.

The teenager unrepentantly grinned at her mother and the True Fae.

"Your family may not approve of us common folk, but I'd say that's a lucrative bargain to widen your clientele base outside of the previous ones," her mother suggested.
User avatar
Karl the Mad
 

Posts: 1260
Joined: Wed Jan 16, 2013 4:27 am
Location: Oregon

Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains

Post by Karl the Mad »

The congenial look of men in discourse was replaced by grim expressions as Thanos gave his orders. Abraham gripped the shifter, downshifting a gear to get more rev from the engine; the truck whined and he pressed the accelerator, eyes scanning ahead for traffic. He suspected Thanos was going to pull some kind of physics breaking whatever, and was ready for the signal, rolling the window down and already starting to hunch over slightly.

For his part, Charles drew one of his pistols and held it at the ready, wondering how exactly they were going to power slide a whole-ass 18 wheeler around on a crowded freeway. It could be done, true, but he liked less load in the back and more room up front, and way less civilians around! But Nereus was calling the shots for now, and he looked forward to the promised perfect head shot.

----------------------------

Marius was pleasantly surprised when Sarah seemed to understand him, though Three's offered memory gave him pause. He ran down the list of Squids he knew, wondering which of them fit the bill or if this Mariner was someone new. "I'd like to meet this Mr Abasi of yours, if possible, as well as this Mr Mariner," he replied in a joking tone. "For now, however, I believe Aidan and I have a date?" Reluctantly he put Bug back down, and it gave him a reproachful look before scampering off into the house.
User avatar
IamLEAM1983
Site Admin
 

Posts: 3707
Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:54 am
Location: Quebec, Canada

Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains

Post by IamLEAM1983 »

Gremory looked at the printout with a bit of an odd expression, as if you could combine keen interest and total disregard in a single look. He didn't answer immediately and instead rested a cheek against his closed fist, elbow on the counter, as he scanned the honestly rather permissive conditions being laid out.

"How'd it start, exactly?" he then asked Tom. "The good little succubus valiantly tried to be human for a few months to a year and then more or less snapped?
- Well, like I said; she'd been quiet at the onset. Things were going well, the only odd thing I'd noticed was how little she wanted to interact with those outside of our little circle."

The older incubus nodded. "Yeah, and I'd imagine being cooped up in here during wartime can't have helped. Lotta stress, lotta anxiety - and she isn't technically human and you've forbidden her from seeking release in ways that make sense for our kind."

Tom scoffed. "Who was she going to sleep with, in this circumstances? Paimon's of Pride, he doesn't have an ounce of libido in his body. Our Celestial helpers don't deliver this kind of release and everyone else was busy looking and seeming human. You can't possibly suggest I should've let her try her hand at molestation.
- And I'm not, either," replied Gremory. However, it's my understanding that you made a mistake in plucking so young a succubus from her home. Not old enough yet to manage her urges, not human enough to understand your rules... That opens her up, brother dearest; and dangerously so."

Tom didn't respond, instead settling with a puzzled frown. That made Gremory sigh. "Your average teenager who comes here with a fake ID isn't looking to actually drink; they're looking for validation. I'd pour some non-alcoholic seltzer from the tap, lie about it being something that's got kick, make up a convincing mocktail - and then I'd get them talking. No doubt this isn't the answer you're looking for, but I'd wager this place is safer for most people than they'd realize. Then, depending on what's needed, I can either send them home with a cab and a call to their parents, or I can take them in that same lounge, out the back, to where they'll be safely out of sight. You've got a Bistro kitchen, so I could have the cook stir up something warm; keep them fed while we try and send them home."

The warthog caught the inference at the root of Gremory's answer. "You're saying Alice wouldn't warrant these steps.
- I'm saying the girl needs some probing-into. She's in the same position as a mortal soul, now, and the old guard's chomping at the bit for a chance to ruin us. Who's to say what's whispering in her ear when nobody's around? What's worse, it could just be plain old spite, too. Woo an oppressed little girl with tales of freedom, she's obviously going to have a very immature view of the concept upon coming here. Next thing she knows, you're implementing rules and restrictions; which makes you out to be just another system of control after Asmodeus' will."

Corpselike shoulders bobbed. "Get someone of the faith to look into her or leave her to one of the Squids. Either way, you'll have your answer."
User avatar
IamLEAM1983
Site Admin
 

Posts: 3707
Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:54 am
Location: Quebec, Canada

Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains

Post by IamLEAM1983 »

Abigail was, understandably, both shocked and relieved. Her Mantle was primed and dropped several times in quick succession, perhaps as a sort of nervous tic common to those of Faerie - as if she were unsure as to how formal she had to be in response to such a generous offer of assistance. She tried for a composed smile, felt its edges crack, and then let out something that was half a chuckle and half a sob, placing a hand on her mouth out of embarrassment. 

"God, I'm such a wreck!" she exclaimed, sniffling and briefly stepping away to grab a tissue to dab at her eyes before her makeup would be ruined. A few seconds passed, a few sniffles followed, and she eventually managed to pull herself back together, smiling.

"If I open up about why this outlet is personal for me, I'll start bawling like a banshee and you won't see the end of it!"

Coach smiled and placed one of his bony hands on hers. "Then don't, sweetheart - not just yet, at least. Let's start with something easy; and you don't have to agree to it if client-confidentiality geases extend that far. Can we at least look at these three orders? My wife's a soldier and I'm, well, technically a wizard. We might be able to make sense of things without you needing to divulge anything that's sealed away. After that, we'll put you in touch with Meris."

Abigail hesitated. It was obvious she was tempted to ask them to wait until someone from Shield came back with a proper warrant, but Coach and Aspasia's reputation had long-since made its way outside of the city's walls. Eventually, she made her way to what looked like a standard garment-maker's dummy, her fingers tracing wards on the mannequin's chest. Its posture and proportions changed even as motes of dust gathered around it, taking the shape and hue of semi-translucent clothes. The first set was fitted for a man who likely was on the cusp of morbid obesity, and was comprised of a simple white suit on a white linen shirt, with a black tie and assorted pin. The jacket and pants were made out of some sort of weave of silk and cotton, judging by the finish, and the mockups of runes to be placed shimmered into view along the pants, flaps, waistline, back and chest.

Spector's covered eye sockets narrowed as he leaned in. "Harnessing opposite forces," he grunted softly. "A kinetic, thermal and auditive tri-weave pattern - how strange... I've only seen anything close to this on high-ranking Gruffs' chestplates, and never with any sound or speech-based component. This one's big, too big to be a fighter, I'd imagine - but they're expecting action all the same. That kind of mass? The shoulders are too shallow to fit someone proficient in Sumo or Kempo, and that kind of gut doesn't just hold itself. Suspenders are a necessity...."

Silas nodded. "Look at the sides along the flanks - there's just enough excess there for someone with a concealed carry. One, maybe two side holsters - like those the Deputy Chief sometimes wears. That kind of bulk makes it easy to hide small firearms if the sides aren't designed to press in too closely."

Abigail nodded. "That was a requirement, actually. I can only assume the... person who first reached me isn't the same one who's going to be wearing this.
- Who was it?" asked the lich. Abigail hesitated for a few seconds before blurting out a name. 

"Dieter Van de Faals," she said, which made Coach blink.

Van de Faals was an anthro dingo native to Johannesburg, South Africa, who'd climed up the ranks of the local Afrikaner modelling scene before being spotted by a talent agency in the early two-thousands. A wiry, deceptively athletic and expressive actor, he'd done everything from superhero blockbusters to steamy rom-coms and brainless action pieces. He'd been received by Hollywood as the new Boy Wonder of the new millennium and had almost spiraled out of control in the industry's love for excess, until he'd found Xenophon Thanos, Christopher Chambers - and Renewal.

For the last five years, Dieter had been to Renewal what Tom Cruise had been to Scientology. An outspoken supporter of the Greek guru's movement, he'd used the scheme's provided resources to straighten himself out and become the movement's top spokesman on matters of at-home mindfulness and self-care. Then, as tension had begun to rise in Hope, his behavior began to turn erratic - well beyond the usually blissfully vapid smiles he'd taken to affecting during his YouTube seminars. With movie production having resumed worldwide, some actors were proving they'd coped with their attempting to survive better than others. Dieter wasn't one of them. He'd emerged from Renewal's bunker a skittish, standoffish and occasionally incoherent mess who could barely string a scene together. His first big part post-Pride War had been scrapped and his entire role had been scheduled for green screen-assisted reshoots, with his lastest TikTok and Instagram posts showing a rapid decline of his social skills. If he'd made his way to Hope, it couldn't have been in the same state. Something else had to have happened.

Spector stepped in closer. "What did he tell you?
- He wasn't exactly coherent; he stank like he hadn't bathed in weeks and looked like an expensively-dressed hobo more than anything else. He muttered numbers I understood to be size references for a man, listed fabrics like he knew what I'd need to use, but he blanked out when I asked him about it. He said it had to be fit for a king, then laughed like it was some sort of sick joke. Almost cried. I told him it'd be expensive, and he just told me that he'd pay, without telling me who he was talking about. He took off muttering something like They'll all pay, and I heard one of the mannequins stop him from breaking his own neck in the escalator going down. I didn't think on it until my payment portal messaged me about a massive and anonymous wire transfer that had come through. Someone paid me ten thousand dollars, signed it Ozymandias, and managed to confuse all the Infosec contacts my family keeps."

Azazel leaned on the counter. "That's weird; isn't Van de Faals the guy who woke up in a clinic in Fresno just a week ago with some weird case of retrograde amnesia? The news kept saying he didn't even remember how his face got on all those billboards, didn't so much as recall his Renewal years. He even lost his American dialect coaching!"

Coach nodded and sniffed. "Yep; almost like someone primed him to reset himself to a time prior to falling in with Meris' old beau... Five years, gone like the wind - but at least the guy's sane.
- Tell that to his therapists," noted Abigail, which made Coach cant his head in allowance. Merciful amnesia was still amnesia, after all.
User avatar
IamLEAM1983
Site Admin
 

Posts: 3707
Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:54 am
Location: Quebec, Canada

Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains

Post by IamLEAM1983 »

For a few seconds, Thanos glanced at nothing, fixated on a point in the road, and then gripped the sides of both men's seats. 

"Now."

When Abraham would guide the truck into the beginnings of an abrupt turn that should have resulted in the tow and car both being flung to their sides and left to skid along the road, the normally loose connection that was only designed for turns suddenly stiffened, the truck's entire set of wheels now operating as if connected to a four-wheel-drive system. They'd feel something shift even as the Void Weaver whispered behind his Flesh Mask, their own selves suddenly seeming quite lighter than usual. It'd take a few seconds to realize Xenophon had shifted the truck's centre of gravity to the exact midpoint of the assembly, thereby giving it more stability - and enough leverage to attempt what should've been an impossible slide.

More words from the Augur slipped in the two men's minds - not to pick at their edges or torture them, but to augment them. Colors became sharper, details clearer - and Charles would swear that he'd have time to leisurely count the hairs on the back of his hand while bringing his rifle up to bear. At the same time, Abraham would feel any doubts regarding his friend's ability to take the shot dwindle away. His heartrate slowed down, adrenaline maintained its steady course, and any residual fear was quieted by what felt like a friend's utter conviction. His ears popped and were muffled, possibly inducing a nanosecond's worth of panic - but then it'd make sense. Charles was about to fire a rifle right next to his head; this had to be the Squid doing what he could to preserve his sense of hearing. Around them, cars skidded and honked, and more impossible forces seemed to cancel out the surrounding cars' acquired momentum, preserving their drivers from what should've been an absolutely horrendous freeway accident. Something was deftly steering cars out of the truck's way as its rear end swung to the right and away from oncoming traffic.

The only one that wasn't affected was a black Lexus, that came right into Jenkins' crosshairs, as predicted - and just past Abraham's shoulders by a few hairs. In normal circumstances, everything would've told him to hold off on taking the shot. This time, however, things were different. The sedan's windows were tinted, but he'd see just enough to get by; just enough to catch the driver's expression of combined rage and absolute bewilderment. In the back, an unmasked Squid was scrambling to grab something equally suited for long ranges and high-powered delivery. It felt so slow, so clumsy - almost as if Charles would've had the time to remove his own rifle's butt from his shoulder and just stare ahead, study his victim-to-be as leisurely as with a painting in a gallery.

An odd thought slipped in, accelerated to one-tenth of the speed of normal human reactions. Normally, he would've been afraid to injure his friend. Now? As things were, he and Zahavi might as well have splurged on a pair of Paradise-build neural oscillation synchs, as precisely-timed as they both felt. He'd have to be drunk, stoned, half-asleep and half-dead to even miss that shot.

Well - except for the driver's side window. There wasn't much you could do about that, and force would push most debris away from Abraham, at least.
User avatar
IamLEAM1983
Site Admin
 

Posts: 3707
Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:54 am
Location: Quebec, Canada

Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains

Post by IamLEAM1983 »

Gavin and Dawn both sat up. "Of course, Marius," said the Drake patriarch, outstretching his hand again. "It's been a pleasure meeting you," he said. "I won't bore you with obvious well-meaning references to the past few years, but for what it's worth, my son seems to think you have formative value. I can see it," he said, smiling tightly. "Maybe someday you'll have some sort of team of your own to lead."

Dawn didn't lean in for a peck on his cheek, but she instead lightly squeezed one of his biceps. "We're not Shield," she said, "but if you ever need anything, just give us a call. A coffee, a listening ear - don't hesitate."

As for Sarah, she offered him a smile. "May Hermes the Fleet-Footed guide your steps," she said, in a later form of Greek, then smirking. "I'd add more, but I'm more of a listener than a speaker.
- Showoff," gently chided Aidan, which earned him a poke in the ribs. Sarah gave him a bit of a glare. "Yeah," she said, "says the guy who picked up Dari and Farsi while I was still falling asleep in my Bachelor's prep classes...
- Allah's will is ever inscrutable," replied Drake in Farsi. "Thanks, guys. We'll be safe, promise."

They headed out while exchanging another volley of goodbyes, Aidan eyeing the truck that was part of their cover and that had once been part of Alexandria's fleet. "Welp," he said, "that was Casa Drake. I hope that wasn't too much mortal exuberance for one of your average mornings," he asked as he climbed onboard.
User avatar
TennyoCeres84
Site Admin
 

Posts: 2929
Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:59 am

Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains

Post by TennyoCeres84 »

Gremory's suggestion made Aislinn mull over potential candidates to deal with the troublesome teenager. It'd be good to have a Void Weaver with a religious background who wouldn't fall easily for Alice's wiles. Once she reached her choice, she nodded to herself. "I think Penfield would be a good option to figure out what's going in Alice's head."

"Why him?" Ciaran questioned.

"He's dispassionate when he's not singing, so that might make for a suitable chance to face her with a clear head. His singing could quell her ire if she gets to be too much trouble. Lucian feels too grandfatherly, and I don't think she'd take well to his compassion," she noted.

"I think that could work, but maybe not right now. Don't poke the hornets' nest, so to speak. We would need to do when she's not expecting it," he advised.

***

Aspasia considered the suit on the dummy and hummed thoughtfully. "Whoever ordered the suit was attempting to make lemonade out of lemons, trying to offer some positive light in an otherwise awful situation, I think," she observed. "Van de Faals may not agree with the sentiment, but that's likely what the buyer was aiming for."

The fauness came to stand next to Spector and peered at the kinetic, thermal, and auditive runes embroidered into the fabric. "The kinetic marks will protect against stabbings and gunshots, while the thermal ones are good for fire or explosives," she explained.

"Why the auditive runes, though, Mom? How can speech be that much of a threat?" Miranda inquired.

"Cantors like Meris know how to use song in battle or for healing. I've only seen one other example of words being used offensively, and that would be Black Speech. Chambers attempted to use it on us when he showed up at Gawain's demesne," she recalled.

"The buyer wanted a wearable shield to protect them from something that potent," she deduced.

She gestured to the excess fabric within the suit jacket that was enough to hide a pair of pistols. "We're dealing with someone who isn't a fighter, but they've been forced to against a considerable foe. The suit is supposed to take the brunt of aggressive tactics, but Abigail's mysterious client is planning for a potential gunfight, in case they're cornered, more than likely. Or they're hoping to catch the enemy off guard, if they get too close," she continued.

"So we've got a sense for what this person's like, but why was Van de Faals acting weird when he was giving Abigail the information for the suit?" her daughter inquired.

"Maybe you weren't seeing Van de Faals' actual decaying personality," Aspasia stated, turning toward the True Fae. "It sounds like he was being guided by someone in the midst of an angst and anger-driven sleepwalking session, in a way. Like a form of possession carried out by someone who wasn't in the best mental state at the time, but they still had a clear purpose and goal."

"That being?" the girl asked.

"If the customer was just some random person, they could've had the suit made at a large outlet of Rhapso & Ariadne. They specifically picked an outlet in Hope for after the incursions would be over. That takes some next-level planning, months or even years in advance," she observed. "Generally, only angels and demons have that kind of capacity,. From what Meris told me, Void Weavers can use the Dark Hallow to see years down the road and plan accordingly."

The former commander sent the retail worker a warm smile. "You're obviously very passionate about your craft, so perhaps that's why he sensed you would be the right person for the job," she said.

"Given Van de Faals' previous connections and the evidence displayed by the suit, I think the suit's wearer is, or will be, Xenophon Thanos. Meris did describe her love as being rather large, and the photos of him fit that same type of physique."

"This suit will probably be the first set of garments the former Augur, the Ozymandias of a fallen and decrepit empire, will own at the start of his new life, whenever he does reach his lady love," she commented.
User avatar
Karl the Mad
 

Posts: 1260
Joined: Wed Jan 16, 2013 4:27 am
Location: Oregon

Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains

Post by Karl the Mad »

Marius shook hands and smiled and mouthed the platitudes necessary when leave-taking, but once the door was shut he couldn't hide a sigh of relief. "A bit much, but perhaps good for my tolerance," he replied with a shrug, joining Three in the cab of the vehicle. He started it up, let it idle and warm up for a minute. "I won't lie, I prefer my mornings much quieter. Some coffee, some blood, the local news and stocks. The latest reports from my acquisition teams afield."

The truck was ready, and he put it in gear and rolled away. "For all that Hope was an epicenter, I was never fool enough to concentrate all my assets in major cities. Alexandria Antiquities persevered through the previous bad times, although there's been the usual post-war reconstruction and rebranding of course. It's been a satisfying way to occupy myself, and having to do it all legitimately and in the open has been just another challenge."

He gave Aidan a crooked smile. "Granted, I can't address competitors like I would have a hundred years ago, but in that field there really aren't many. My other distractions, however..."

------------------------------

They moved as one, Charles and Abraham and the truck and the Auger. Abraham threw it into a slide, traffic parting before them like water, and ducked away just as Charles was pulling the trigger. Glass shattered and flew outward as the corner vent window was perforated, and the bullet slammed through the air en route to the driver's side of the black Lexus.

Just for the hell of it, he waited another split second and fired again, at the back seat Squid in that car who was scrambling for a rifle or whatever. No need to adjust his aim to either side, the movement of the truck was doing that for him. As if time was slowing down, just for him.

...he had to learn this trick for himself!

In the next second, as time reasserted its natural flow, Abraham brought the truck back around to a straight course down the freeway, an exhilarated look on his face. "What next?" was all he asked, laconic as ever despite the elation he felt.
User avatar
IamLEAM1983
Site Admin
 

Posts: 3707
Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:54 am
Location: Quebec, Canada

Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains

Post by IamLEAM1983 »

Three returned the smile. "I know the feeling. You've got the Noise, I've got the Drake sense of duty. There's days where you don't really want to get out of bed, but something's gnawing at you. I kept wanting to put this off further away, for instance. Reschedule with Nereus in the Darkhallow, wait for the perfect moment that wouldn't ever come, as if we could just get the Loyalists to join a Slack workgroup and synch their timetables with us all nice and handy-like..."

He paused, sighed and fished for one of the toys he'd asked of Marius. With the vampire's connections and Frank Brenner's cheerful disregard for import laws, smuggling and paying for an Ashura Labs smart rifle ahead of time had been disarmingly easy. He'd ordered three flechette cases extra and an eye-tracking soft-mod, the associated non-permanent implant currently resting in its plastic case on the dashboard.

"I followed his advice and tried to practice curving bullets in my own instance," he said, referring to his dream-space and to Nereus. "It just isn't practical. I don't see how anyone, no matter how skilled, could exert their will on a speeding bullet that's moving away from them. Blocking incoming projectiles is one thing, but influencing slug-throwers with the Black Speech mid-shootout feels reckless to me. I'd rather tech handled non-obvious angles for me," he explained.

The rifle's electronics passing muster, he set it down and out of sight and then turned his attention to the implant. The plastic box opened with a flick of his thumb, exposing a flesh-tinted square no bigger than a postage stamp. Carefully peeling off its backing, he frowned as the microscopic nanobots caught the surrounding sunlight like an oil slick, and grimaced as he placed it against his right temple. Gooseflesh shot down his neck, his blue eyes briefly gleaming as a measure of the tiny machines surged through his dermal layers, reached his bloodstream and pooled against the back of his cornea. A soft groan escaped him, he beat back the urge to rub his eyes and instead furiously blinked. Then, the soldier reached out for his rifle and pressed a recessed button that had intentionally been set in a hard-to-reach spot behind the stock viewfinder. His irises pulsated with a golden-yellow sheen for a few seconds, then flashed green once before returning to blue.

"Let's see how freaks who operate on God Mode like it when someone aimbots at them," he said, displaying a mean smile. "I just tagged you Green on the onboard IFF, so the hornets should just whizz right past you. I've set motion detection for allies to Max, so I don't think you'll have any problems with this unless you start blinking from place to place while in my line of sight."

* * *

The Lexus skidded, briefly picked up speed, and the inert body of the dead driver soon forced it into a full-speed curve into the guardrail and the small ditch beyond. In the meantime, the truck finished its rotation under Nereus' impetus and came to a stop as it faced in the same direction as the remainder of the surrounding traffic. Lightly gasping, Nereus reached for his Thermos of saltwater and took a few gulps before answering Abraham.

"We use this to reach the meeting point with Drake and Vlastos. We've made waves; our little stunt is going to be anywhere that has a microblog component within minutes. The next wave won't be so easy, especially if Chambers did his homework and figured out who our complement is. The Alexandrian's long been a source of speculation in the Prelacy, and you're both familiar with Aidan. The Loyalists paid a hefty price in learning not to under-estimate the locals' defensive capabilities."

A few minutes later, they reached the last rest area before Point Judith Road's last few miles. They'd passed a few secluded estates, one or two farms, and now found themselves pressed between a stretch of woodland and the open sea. Walking to the edge of the overlook, some of Hope's towers and floating platforms could be seen in the haze, now much closer than before. Its outline had changed since the Pride War, with Green Island now resembling something of a more ecologically-conscious Hong Kong, with its tiered levels sporting numerous small parks. A few skyscrapers had the now-familiar golden haze of Celestial influence, and a few others were black, almost obsidian-like Modernist towers hewn out of glass, Brimstone and steel.

Part of Nereus wanted to enter the diner, set his cap on a table somewhere and ask for something cheap and comforting. All the same, he knew the enemy might've planted operatives ahead of time. Either Flesh Masked Prelates or enthralled humans and anthros instructed to act normally until they'd see their target. At best, he allowed himself to leave the truck and stretch his legs in the blind spot afforded by the rear of the truck. The few arrivals could be easily checked for obvious signs of Eldritch influence and as things were, the murmur of the highway made things feel rather placid.

It was pure torture. Part of him wanted to settle in for a few hours and the rest of his attention couldn't stop checking for sightlines, exit routes, non-obvious enemies and the like - and for now, all he looked like was a fat, old trucker munching on a boxed sandwich purchased hours earlier. The stale eggs and mayonnaise did nothing to ease the piteous gap in his stomach.

He'd closed his eyes for a few moments, focusing on the wind and waves and the rustling of the trees behind him, when he heard them. Six cars, all parked within a few short intervals of each other, all without their drivers leaving their vehicles for long minutes. They'd just opened their doors in quasi-unison, all studiously ignoring one another as they headed for the diner. Most of them weren't noteworthy - which made them all the more dangerous. A human family of five, chattering away about their planned vacation in one of the bay's seaside cabins, just outside Pickman's Sound. An anthro couple, with an bearded dragon and a doe, discussing the particulars of their moving from Newark to Hope. A couple of human retirees, wordlessly heading for the diner with their keys still jangling in their hands. A single human male in Sports Casual. An anthro Labrador chattering away at his smartphone in the context of what looked to be an on-the-road vlog on usually-ignored diners...

The last one made him look. Another black sedan, out of which climbed a tall, lanky human of indeterminate middle age, clad in a showy black-and-purple pinstriped suit, with eyeglasses that looked prohibitively expensive and a basic attaché-case that looked featureless enough to possibly cost a few hundred thousand dollars on its own. Faintly liver-spotted hands adjusted the glasses and gripped the case, the face a long and humorless visage that was eloquent as it was hermetic. The man clearly had other things on his mind and thought that whatever had brought him here was an annoyance, a nuisance to be dealt with swiftly. He wasn't dressed for burgers or bad coleslaw, that much was obvious. This was a setup for a movie-worthy meeting between a protagonist and a prim and self-conscious advisor, arbitrator or messenger - either something expository or game-changing, or the trigger for another bloodbath. None of these options pleased the runaway Augur.

Leaving his post, Nereus ambled towards Jenkins and settled with a slight jerking of his chin, indicating the soldier should look behind him. Charles would see the same fellow entering the diner, the windows' refracted sunlight not doing much to hide the sight of the man walking to a booth with militaristic precision and sitting down while unbuttoning his jacket. Nereus narrowed his eyes as the waitress came, but nothing untoward left the man's lips. Lip-reading wasn't his forte outside of the Black Speech, but he was reasonably confident he'd just asked for coffee.

He then looked to Abraham. "Do you think you could run interference while Charles and I get ready?" he asked of the Israeli. "I can't step in there myself, I'd give them exactly what they want. If they've seen you and they're looking for me, they won't want to try and enthrall you; they'll expect to use you as a bargaining chip."

Nereus placed a hand on Abraham's shoulder. "Make the envoy think I've already claimed you. He'll be too busy detailing the particulars of my hypocrisy to pay heed to the trap we'll spring - I made sure to give them plenty of fuel with Van de Faals."

The Void Weaver licked his temporary human lips out of nervousness. "Don't push it too far, whatever you do," he said. "Dieter fell apart because I wasn't doing much better myself, when I first breached his mind. They're expecting expert thralldom, and that doesn't involve a barrage of tics or enough social awkwardness to make an ashram feel like a funeral parlor. You're still you, Abraham, in-context - just a less free version of yourself."
User avatar
IamLEAM1983
Site Admin
 

Posts: 3707
Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:54 am
Location: Quebec, Canada

Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains

Post by IamLEAM1983 »

Gremory seemed to agree. "She's still a teen, in some ways - she'll clam up if you confront her privately. It might be a ways away, but there's already hubbub downstairs about the new landmass or plane or... dimensional extrusion or what have you that your allied Weavers want to bring up and out of the local Atlantic. I'm given to understand that one of the Squids' big cheeses is on his way over and that in a lot of ways, the war won't really be over until the laws of this universe get their watchmen back."

Tom cleaned his glass in the embedded sink. "Which I'm sure the Void Weavers and a fair few other nasties will see as a sign that Earth is ready to kick things up a notch... I'm not sure I'm looking up to it, but it should at least dissuade any and all schemers thinking in terms of Celestial or Infernal right and wrong."

Gremory sniffed. "Eh, it might force them to stop for a bit and take stock for, oh, a century or two, but I've seen enough to know even those that didn't Fall have some blood on their feathers. Theirs is just - a little more convenient, sartorially speaking. Shows less."

* * *

Abigail seemed both humbled and thoughtful. "If you'd have told me I was stitching a suit together for a monarch, I would've gone for finer materials," she admitted. "It's the other two I'm worried about."

She tapped at the mannequin again, the frame shifting again and going for something on the taller and lankier side. One was in dark charcoal tones, with a strangely pronounced lordosis along the upper half of the back, and the other was reedy and straight, in dark green with charcoal pinstripes. Neither of them looked to have been warded.

"No ward commishes on these two?" asked the lich, to which the designer nodded. "The emails were explicit: they'd take care of any imbuing-related operations themselves. They each came with a pregenerated tracking number I had to append to them.
- USPS?" tried Spector.

Abigail nodded in the negative. "Tobolensky - off-world. I was surprised, neither of those come with sizes you'd associate with Paradise's common species."

The Wisp grunted thoughtfully, reaching out to touch the mannequin's priming wards in the same order as Abigail. He reinspected the holographic suits carefully. "I'd need a warrant or a royal writ to contact the Head Marshall for the Gliese colony's spaceport, but I suspect both packages were flagged as LOA - Lost on Arrival.
- They wouldn't just lose something this pricey," opposed Azazel, to which Spector nodded. "Correct, Azazel. You wouldn't just lose a pair of Faerie-crafted suits that would make Italian haberdashers slit their wrists. I'd assume the parcels were tagged for Paradise, but were designated as to be lost as soon as they would pass Customs."

The former Scapegoat was confused. "Why?"

Silas gave his wife a knowing smirk. "Contraband doesn't just pop up out of thin air. If you're looking to smuggle a suit in somewhere, you have to disappear it, first - and there ain't no better Veil than a false bill of lading. If the provenance of our friends' battle armor is too obvious or if they want to get it shipped somewhere else, they're better off having these things appear as anything else, on paper."

Spector nodded. "I'd very much like to find where these suits might've disappeared off to..."
Post Reply