Old World Blues

Anything you might want to try out that doesn't temporally or thematically fit the serial should go here. This is an ideal space for all your what-ifs and might-have-beens, as well as for your average silliness.
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Karl the Mad
 

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Re: Old World Blues

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Faced with a crazed Lovecraft refugee, the two Dixie boys turned and ran out of the store. What else could they do?

Charles couldn't just get up, though. He'd been shot through the heart, and while he could probably use the Black Speech to speed up his own healing process, he was reluctant to intervene so since his usage of Black Speech had been likened to a sledgehammer, at times, compared to the scalpel that was Three's use of it.

He was about to try it anyway when Marius came over. "Don't do it, boy," he muttered, reaching down and pulling the vet to his feet. "You'd bring the whole building down to a pile of dust, and likely us along with it. You, cover your ears," he called over his shoulder at the shopkeeper. He then pushed a hand through Jenkins' shirt and laid two fingers over the wound in his heart. "H3al, moth3rfuck3r," he intoned in a low voice, bending reality to his will. The vampire's usage of Black Speech was coarser and grittier than either Drake's or Jenkins', and not just because of the profanity, but he had a thousand years of practice so it still worked; Charles felt his heart sewing itself up in his torso, just as commanded.

Charles rubbed his chest, wincing at the ache left behind, but chose not to question the sudden generosity of the ancient vamp. "I'm guessin' we gots a gang war goin' on now," he remarked conversationally. "Them Dixie fucks been truckin' guys in fer weeks now, an' I couldn' figger out what fer. Guess I know now, eh?"
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Old World Blues

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Azardad's Lexicon having worked as intended, Three was left with a vague smirk as he recognized Marius' words. He'd have to ask him about the virtues of insulting someone as a vector for increased healing at another time - more armed goons were sure to be on their way.

The salesman grunted. "Gah, my ears are ringing... Why are they ringing?"

Drake didn't have much desire to elaborate. "Just bill that rig to us at the Hall, I'm the one who damaged these parts.
- Ugh, nevermind... Just go, I'll see about assembling another copy once I have all the required parts again. Unless these freaks destroy my workstation for no good reason, it shouldn't take too long."

Three nodded his thanks, and instead started into the assembly and storage space at the back of the store. "Come on," he told the other two, "we can't be seen out in the open, we'd risk endangering civilians. We can use one of mister Gammell's tools to catch them from the rear. We need someone to interrogate, a hook to start off of..."

Something made him stop, and he hurried back past Marius to the front of the store, where he recovered the PCI-E graphics card he'd almost used as a cleaver. There was still some blood on it from one of the two goons. With that in hand, he headed back to the rear while digging into his pants to pull out what looked like a fairly standard and modern take on a smart fob watch. A few twists of the compass ring loosened it free, however. He used one hand to prop it against the wall, and stuck a bit of the collected blood on its rim, using the other. A few uncertain seconds later, the ring seemed to be stuck to the wall. It spun aimlessly for a few moments, the droplet soon becoming suspended in the ring's hollow center as if by a lack of gravitational forces. It then stopped, began pointing westward - all while the hollow space of the ring began to display a freeze-frame of one of the two attackers, his face expressing shock.

"Bingo," seethed Drake. "Now, let's go back a bit..."

He turned the ring counterclockwise, the storage area around them turning into a rewinding blur. "Get ready," he said. "The moment we stop, we'll have to start bolting for them. It might be easy enough for you, Marius, but the other two of us wouldn't survive the whiplash from you just carrying us along at your speeds; and I like my brain to not exist as cranial Jell-O, thank you very much..."

The viewfinder in the ring followed the same goon as he rewinded his way inside a nondescript car, Three pausing to mutter the license plate number to himself, and then pressed on that conjured window as if it were a button. Something imperceptibly shifted around them, and the button's view of the rear of the car began to blink in and out.

"Once the viewfinder flashes green, we have ten seconds to get back into position at the car's rear," he said. "We'll re-enter our universe's timeline at the exact moment I rewound it to. The me that Chtulhu'ed the fuckers and the you that got shot won't exist anymore," he told Jenkins. "Neither will the Vlastos one of these goons harassed. Universal read-write privileges - perks of working with someone who has the Architect's back. Obviously, that trick was designed by Gammell to be a one-time use type of deal. We can't pound Ethics and the physics of Spacetime into submission anytime we want."

The viewfinder then flashed green.

"Alright - go! They'll be just about to stop their car out in front!"
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Karl the Mad
 

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Re: Old World Blues

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Vlastos wasted no time flash-stepping away from the storage area and out to the front of the shop; Charles followed along at his own top speed, still rubbing his chest and feeling like molasses next to the nimble old coot.

Meanwhile, the two goons were running away from the computer shop when suddenly-

-hrrrk-

Huh...? Weren't they-? But the old reality was disappearing as fast as a second ticks by, leaving them to stand momentarily confused at the door of the shop. Had something just happened? they wondered. And where was that vampire guy?

Momentary confusion Marius took full advantage of, by appearing behind them and neatly rapping them in the backs of their heads, one after another. Each one pitch forward into a complete stupor, but they weren't dead; Vlastos had far too much experience taking people alive to make a rookie mistake like that.
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Old World Blues

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In the meantime, Drake swerved around to the front passenger's side of the car the goons had used to get here and quickly glanced at where Charles and Marius were. "Check their wallets," he said. "If they're Dixie Mob, we need to check on their exact point of origin. If you're right about them, Jenks, we might have to drop by Biggs' for a sit-rep on the Southern scene. My background's pissed-off Afghan locals, not Louisiana natives with fucked-up ambitions. I'd ring up the Archduke if we had time to spare, Spector might have a few heads or leads for us to track."

He could've used the Black Speech to force his way into the car, but also happened to have a few of the usual patrolman's tools on hand, including a lockpick designed specifically for cars. Once the door was unlocked, he started rummaging inside the car's glove compartment, to see if it had been stolen or if the goons had carried more guns, maps or other indicators of their goals here.

As he rummaged, he kept an eye on Marius. "Ever read Harry Turtledove, Marius? Big alternate history buff, guy's mostly focused on what would've happened if a specific covert order sent to General Lee hadn't been intercepted and used by the Northern forces. Long story short, France and England side with the victor and Germany mops up what's left of Lincoln's USA, Lincoln's disgraced and  his successor is forced to stick to isolationist politics... Goes to show the War of Secession sent ripples going across the entire world."
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Karl the Mad
 

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Re: Old World Blues

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"I'm more familiar with his efforts at rewriting earlier history," Marius replied as he searched the car. "Apparently in a time when Spain had England under heel, it was upon dear old Shakespeare to rouse the rabble and reignite the revolution. Or something like that." He came up with a newspaper dated a few days ago, the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, which could have put most rural phone books to shame. "Print media is alive and well down South, I see," he murmured, flipping through it for a few moments.

Charles was going through the thugs' wallets, and came up with the usual cash and credit cards. There was ID in each one too, but... "These're fake," the vet declared after a few moments' scrutiny. "Wan' us believin' they from Jersey. Really, bros? Bet this other plastic's fake 'n frauded too."

Three would learn from the glove box that the car, which had Rhode Island plates, was registered to one Doreen McAlvoy of Red River Parish, in Louisiana. A couple photos in the back showed a broad assortment of people who all had a familiar similarity to them, and Three would quickly pick out one of the goons from the group. Presumably Doreen was his mother or grandmother or some other elder matronly relation, since the keys were here and it showed no signs of being stolen or tampered with, apart from the swapped plates; several of the random relatives were theriomorphs and Changelings, to boot. The back seat held the real plates, hidden until moments ago by the newspaper Marius had picked up, and a fair amount of loose ammo was left to roll about as it pleased.

"Pop th' trunk, Drakey, I'm guessin' we'll find us an armory 'n a bag a' money," Charles commented as he strolled around to the back of the car. "Nothin' fancy 'r hi-tech, these Dixie boys got deep pockets but shallow 'maginations, y'know?"
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Old World Blues

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"Deep pockets, huh?" mused Three, as he thumbed through the McAlvoys' photographs and reached across, to lower the driver's seat window. Through it, he passed out the car's original plates.

"Here," he told Charles, "jot these down somewhere, we have phone calls to the DMV to make. We're dealing with Louisiana natives, Fae and affiliated Theriomorphs. They're all human in the pics, so I can't tell what their actual breeds are. Malks or Fae Hounds for sure, though. Look at their posture, their eyes. Farsighted predators in human bodies."

He thought back to their financial ease, and headed out of the car after pulling the trunk's activating lever. A few gestures were all he needed to find a small arsenal's worth of basic kinetic weaponry.

"Jesus Christ," he swore. "They wouldn't have made a dent in Marius, but they would've ended up killing our Drifter buddy..."

The soldier pursed his lips together. "With Jones winning his second mandate, the old Libertarian and Republican elites from down South rallied around a hedge fund Vienna and Wyvern have been trying to pierce for years. There's plenty of Old Money Fae backing the religious right past the Mason-Dixon, but most stick as close to the law as they can while pushing back religious freedom in favor of the usual Bible-bashing crap."

He eyed Marius. "We started digging into your plans by pinging the Grimley Circus for info on Alexandria's renovations. Archie paid for the info by sharing his own notes for his Southern campaigns... We should arrange a meetup with Horatio."

As he finished talking, Drake pulled out his smartphone, logged out of his own Facebook account and used account credentials he, a few other members of the Hall and Grimley had all agreed to use as a calling card. "Dexter Douglas" actually was one of the circus' children, one of the kids of the roustabouts and mortal assistants that made up the logistical arm of the troupe. Young Dexter didn't post to Facebook much, but he mostly spent his time whining about not having access to a computer. Oddly enough, only another boy named "Willie Beamish" ever replied to his status updates - and usually with nothing except a reaction Emoji.

So Three, as Dexter, posted something fairly common for the persona. 

"Damnit," he wrote, "Internet's down at home! I wish I knew someone else in Hope who had high speed access!"

A few minutes passed, and Willie added a Laughter Emoji. According to the agreed-upon code, it meant Grimley was within a reasonable traveling distance and was willing to help.

"He's up for it," he told Charles. A few minutes more and Drake's phone vibrated, Three scrolling past what would've seemed like your usual unsolicited text message to find the listed coordinates at the bottom. Plugging them into his phone's Maps app, he found that the Circus was surprisingly close.

"Holy shit," he scoffed, smiling slightly, "they just settled on the beach near Pickman's Sound! I'm guessing they never got around to canvassing Renton with flyers... Why are they back here so soon? Horatio usually only comes back up here in time for Halloween; why would he avoid all the Southern stretch of his usual tour?"
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Karl the Mad
 

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Re: Old World Blues

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Marius rolled his eyes. "Those damn snoops," he muttered. "I'd guess they skipped the South because they're all riled up against folks like me, not just this particular clan." He held up the paper, pointing to an article detailing the latest in a series of violent acts against vampires and immortals. "Is this all because of me?"

"Nah, man," Charles replied after having written down the plate numbers. "All us squishy mortal types is jealous of folk like y'all. I'm guessin' yer jus' a target a' opportunity, someone easy t' git th' troops riled up against, yeah?"

"The stupid immortal nihilist who tried to kill everyone," the vamp said, half to himself. "Yes, I can see how I could be an easy target." He shook his head. "Sadly for them, I am not so easy to kill, and even more sadly, I still have court-appointed therapy to go through, which is just interesting and useful enough for me to not want to miss out on. Especially not so a bunch of Dixie-born chucklefucks can get their murder-boner off!"

"You tell 'em, man," Jenkins countered with a grin.
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Old World Blues

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"They're outliers, anyway," rationalized Three. "Joe Average never even knew about our defeating you until it made the headlines. The world having almost ended is kind of an odd concept to rationalize for most people. Some can accept that, others can't. They're the ones who stayed stuck on that near-extinction and who cracked. Our friends the McAlvoys are probably of that type."

A lot had happened over the last year, to the point where George Gammell had introduced Aidan to the Architect - at least in a diminished form. Coming out of it, he'd told his friends that mortal minds weren't made to hold onto the notion of totality, of what had waited behind the old man's throne of spinning gears, what had been making that grinding, cathedral-filling and thoroughly immense tick-tock sound. Vlastos' near-success required the same amount of theoretical distance, as the What If? it underlined stood poised to fray minds and end lives.

Climbing out of the car, Drake then called for a towing service and a squad car, and then dropped a few lines back to the Hall via text.

"We can take the Pedway to the DMV office and then change lines to surface back in Pickman's Sound," he offered. "We can also walk back to the Hall and use my bike and your car," he told Charles, "but that seems like a waste. We're maybe ten minutes or so away on foot."
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Karl the Mad
 

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Re: Old World Blues

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Charles thought about it. "Prolly a good idea t' minimize our time in the open," he offered. "Like I said, them Dixie guys been bringin' their buddies in fer days, no tellin' 'ow many there are 'r how good their surveillance is."

"The fact that we are not under attack would seem to indicate a sizable fucking hole in said surveillance," Marius drawled sarcastically. "Clearly they've not got a Connor or a Hauser on their team, not yet anyway, or we'd doubtless find the traffic cameras turned against us."

"On the other hand, might be a good idea drawin' them outta cover, git 'em all followin' us t' some back lot where we c'n make a couple arrests. 'r some shit," Jenkins went on thoughtfully. "Might need some backup fer 'at plan, though."
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Old World Blues

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Three sighed, more out of personal mental gymnastics than out of anything resembling dejection. "We'll have a guaranteed oasis at Grimley's caravan, but getting there leaves us open. So does heading to the DMV. If the Dixie goons are scattered, they'll have a harder time following us if we beeline to one spot. Not only that, but they probably have orders to stay away from Horatio's crew. I doubt any of the McAlvoys' friends are into getting spooked or literally laughed out of town. 

The Circus is locked down for now, so they have a hardline. That means we can make a remote query for the plate number info or contact Preston securely. There's no show until eleven o' clock tonight, so there'd be no civilians to harm if we tried to use the big-top or the overall courtyard as a Redneck Corral. Grimley knows how to keep his roustabouts out of a fight and to keep engagements to his fellow undead, so that would give us optimal conditions. Plus, as insane as they are, we'd have full license to use our complete toolset without risking one of the acrobats or clowns going Norman Bates."

He caught himself. "Well. Not any more than they'd already be."
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