Chapter II: Gravity

[IamLEAM1983]

In centuries past, Nereus had explained the science of the sensitive Void Weaver tastebuds and olfactory receptors to Meris. Her smell was a lot more than the base-line aromas of a female selkie; all that she was, felt and experienced influenced her natural musk. The Augur would keep her scent close, keenly memorized in a corner of his mind. The same applied to her, as Nereus smelled much better than his initial appearance would've suggested. Under her care, he'd gone from smelling of exhaustion and disease to having a distinctly unique aroma: something that translated his curious nature and easy, unpretentious refinement into the slightly maritime and yet, somehow sweet aromas of her lover. Infusing her sense of smell with arcane energy, she'd grow able to transcend the basic musk the Veiled water dragon carried, and detect more than even her keen roane's nose would've discerned.

The man was, in all probability, truly Seamus Mac Loch and not some illusion-clad usurper. Instead, he'd laden his usual human guise with extra layers, something Meris would pierce as he got up to ask for a refill. The torn fabric of his jacket was carefully concealed, but it was still there, still rimmed with the pungent and acrid tang of Hellfire. As she'd dig past the water dragon's pall of false scents, she'd detect scrapes and burns, quickly and impatiently nursed cuts. He'd gotten in a fight with something that wafted of the Pit itself, and understandably felt like stopping for a steadying drink before heading home to change. All the same, the local Deputy Chief couldn't have been seen in a position of weakness, so the Veil was explained.

Delmar voiced nothing verbally, even if the back of Meris' head resonated with the sound of her old friend producing a thoughtful grunt.

"Hellfire," he then said. "We've only ever smelled its aftershocks - never the actual residue left behind... It's not exactly related to your interests, but I think this could qualify as decent leisure. That is, if you're up for a little pro bono work."

* * *

In all this, Crystal would narrowly miss the sensation of her smartphone vibrating against her thigh. Giving the screen a quick look, she'd find a matter-of-fact advisory of Mertown's recent Infernalist-related problems...

[TennyoCeres84]

Pulling the device from her pocket, Crystal frowned at the sight of the message. "Everyone, I just received a message from Seamus. Seems he ran afoul of a certain Infernalist. He's got a few scrapes and burns, but he's recuperating over at The Old Sea Dog," she announced, sighing with more exasperation than actual concern.

***

Relieved that the man seemed to be who he was supposed to be, she knew he had been in a scuffle with an Infernalist. The bridge of her nose wrinkled slightly at the scent of Hellfire. "I'm up for that. It'd be a nice change from running after another upstart Void Weaver or their lackeys," she admitted to Delmar.

Being an archmage, she knew all the ins and outs of being an Infernalist without the cost. Meris knew of the various major demons, their hierarchy, and the associated rituals and countermeasures. The roane had never been one to enlist the help of Pit demons as that brought on a whole other league of issues she did not care to be involved in. Squids, Abominations, and their mortal allies were enough. She had heard too many stories of idiots craving fame and power and sacrificing the fundamental parts that made them who they were. Belial was a common taker of mortal souls in exchange for demon flesh, and he had a reputation to go along with it. The infamous legend about who had given rise to the goblins and Orcs had long cemented her opinion on dealing with their ilk.

[IamLEAM1983]

Unfortunately, having Delmar around didn't grace Meris with an inner GPS. As much as they knew what had happened, neither of them knew where to look for the culprit. Granted, Meris would've known a thing or two about where incompetent mages would've chosen to ground their roots, but she had no way of knowing the exact nature of the perpetrator - at least none at present.

If anything, she'd know that Hope was rife with well-known mage haunts. The local university campus qualified as much as the Trismegistus Institute, and Hope's old Mystic Theatre had been turned into the home of one of the most well-known war-time mages; Francis Quigley. Being one of the few "rock star" mages alive, Quigley could count on fame and fortune alike to bring him visitors from all walks of arcane proficiency. Still, only the reputable sources ever made it onto the travel brochures and Wikipedia entries. Obviously, anyone associated with tourism or academically-motivated travel would've kept their cards close to their chest, in regards to the least personable arcane elements in town.

For now, she had two options: she could risk destroying her protective anonymity by talking to the Deputy Chief, or she could pull out her smartphone, ask for the Sea Dog's WiFi password and start trawling the seedier corners of the arcane community. It wasn't as though there was an "Infernalist-Chan" or even a chunk of the Dark Web that serviced those who called to demons for help - but word got around online, and it got around faster and more clearly than in real life...

* * *

"Great," replied Drake on a deadpan tone. "The city's unwanted mascot is at it again..."

What he hadn't expected was for nearly everyone else to have a similar reaction. Nevermind how recent Quint's posed problems were in comparison to Archie, the Clank furrowed his brow, chest heaving in a silent sigh of disapproval. Bagley settled with a circumspect grunt, while Anastasius said something unkind in Russian, shaking his head all the while.

"Do we cut these celebrations short or do we wait for details?" asked Sarah. "I mean, I know he's a bad guy, but he's not the baddest guy around, right? Chances are any squad car with a Taser could take him on. That's lightweight fare for you guys."

Archie gave it a thought and then looked to Crystal. "Darling, would you terribly mind asking for Central's dispatch to give you more information? At this point, I believe it would be more appropriate of us to know if your former maverick laboratory technician is about to hurt himself, rather than others."

[TennyoCeres84]

The werewolf nodded."Of course. Just in case, be ready to head out," she replied, finding the Central precinct's number. Dialing it, Crystal listened for someone to pick up.

***

Meris figured it would be quicker and more private to ask for the Wi-Fi password than involve the police. She went over to the bar and inquired of the bar keep, "I would like to use the Wi-Fi. What is the password?"

[IamLEAM1983]

"Yes, ma'am?" was Crystal's offered response, barely two ringtones in. Day or night, rain or shine, you typically didn't ignore one of the local Deputy Chiefs' calls for long - nor the Viscount's rare telephone-based summons.

* * *

The barkeep shrugged. "Ain't one for guests. We've got a seperate network for patrons; no password on this one."

In so saying, he pointed to a printed sheet of paper that had been stuck to the wall with adhesive putty. The words Wi-Fi: OldSeaDogGuest occupied much of the space.

[TennyoCeres84]

Meris nodded and returned to her seat. She quickly tapped on the internet icon on her phone and entered the password for the Wi-Fi. Now all she had to do was some digital digging...

***

"Yes, I need the info on Mac Loch's encounter with Quint. We need to know where he is and what he's up to," Crystal delivered into her phone.

[IamLEAM1983]

"Understood," replied the operator. "you'll find the related reports and the squad car radio recordings in Holden Hall's datacenter within a few minutes. Requesting an upload now."

For now, saying that the manor had a "datacenter" was a bit of a gross exxageration. It sounded nice and professional, but the fact was that the manor's main dumping ground for informations was the library's desktop computer. A few terabytes of free space would be more than enough for hundreds of current and future cases, going by how quickly the HPD produced documents - but they'd eventually have to look into something a little more secure. Something for which, regrettably, mister Hauser's involvement could have been appreciated.

Even though she'd hung up, Crystal would receive a text from the same operator, a few moments later. Files sent, it said. Quint, Thomas.

As ever in these circumstances, Archie had kept an eye on Crystal's small screen. "Well," he sighed, emptying his champagne flute, "back to work, I suppose... Mister Drake, I require a tactical assessment of mister Quint's posed threat levels within the next half-hour. Miss Aislinn, if you would be so kind as to peruse our books in search for arcane chinks in his armor, we would all be appreciative. Ciaran, Neasa - I need you to review all past cases of Infernalism in the tri-State area as of the last few years. I would like to exclude the involvement of like-minded individuals..."

Bagley simply hovered nearby, his question unspoken but obvious. What about him? Archie seemed to catch onto this and gave a vaguely noncommittal shrug. "Mister Bagley - accompany Ciaran and Neasa, if you will. I'd like to have your nigh-on professional sense of empathy on this case, hm? Let us know if his motivations are likely to have changed..."

Holden shrugged. "It isn't bloody likely, of course, but we'd better be sure."

* * *

Of course, the more law-abiding stretches of the arcane community had its fair share of networks to be trawled. Message boards by the hundreds, hub pages created to share diagrams or mnemonic patterns to make certain spells easier; entire YouTube channels devoted to step-by-step tutorials, nonprofessional and still exhaustive online courses... There was a lot of information to dig through, and nearly all of it pertaining to Infernalism could be translated as Dip your big toe into Pandemonium's bay if you feel like it, but venture further at your own risk.

Eventually, she'd come across a name that came back fairly often, and always to the tone of someone being mocked. Thomas Quint seemed to be someone who wasn't worthy of much respect or consideration, but he was of those sad and pathetic sorts you'd see desperately trying to come across as imposing or threatening; a wannabe supervillain the likes of which most Nexuses tended to produce every now and again.

Nobody ever brought up Quint's address, of course, but the old grain silos in Sandhill were often mentioned as being his usual haunt. As to why; it wasn't all that surprising, honestly. Meris had gone through her own "semi-pro" phase shortly after escaping Dalarath, with a good handle on the theory behind her abilities but no actual practice. Isolating herself would've turned out to be a temporary boon, as nothing had tempered her better than allowing herself to make mistakes, to accustom herself with the capricious flow of ley lines across the globe. Most mages eventually came out of their shells, realizing that seclusion didn't do much except foster a sort of debilitating hyper-sensitivity to via. A lot of younger types called it the "Harry Dresden Syndrome", as no amount of exclusion fields protected the electronics and electric equipments of a hedge mage from its haphazard pull on the local arcane resources.

[TennyoCeres84]

"Sure," Aislinn replied, heading off toward Holden Hall's library. Ciaran and Neasa looked to Bagley and ventured over to their respective computers to search through the HPD's databases and for all files involving Thomas Quint.

***

"Thomas Quint. The best bet is that he's likely at the abandoned silos in Sandhill. Makes sense, especially if he's messing with something volatile. Perfect place to work in peace, for the most part," Meris told Delmar. "Sarvin mentioned him once, and the way he spoke of him was like he was the best joke he had ever heard of. He was a former forensics technician with ego issues. He felt like he wasn't getting enough admiration for his work and wanted to impress the higher-ups. He summons Belial, and everything went down from there. Truth be told, I pity the idiot, and I haven't even met him."

[IamLEAM1983]

It'd be a good, long while before the roanes and the android came up with something that could be decently summarized.

Aislinn had been receiving regular primers on the major schools of magic, courtesy of Amazo - and the snake regularly pop-quizzed her out of seemingly nowhere, just to ensure that the knowledge remained fresh and easily accessible. Nevermind how she'd have no intention of plying Hellfire for her own purposes, she had to understand the dynamics behind Infernalism; the ways in which Magic proved that there was more to a person's physical nature than just genes and the effects of an average life. People could be profoundly changed if otherwordly energies touched them sufficiently, and liches stood as a concrete example of this. It stood to reason that Hellfire could do the exact same thing.

Ciaran wouldn't find any potential associates, beyond unwary curio shop owners that had simply followed a customer's demands and mailed parcels to a P.O. box belonging to the warthog. Quint had never been the type to attract that many people, even if his hypothetical allies would've displayed similar goals; and you couldn't convict shop-owners for doing their job after receiving snail-mail orders. As for Neasa, seeing how magic wasn't her forte, she'd at least find out that the porcine fellow had been working on some sort of mass enchantment. The theft of audio equipment was a new one for him, as was his sending imps to ransack Molly Inverness' house in Mertown. Inverness was a vocal teacher by trade and a humble Cantor by ability, and her family had left her an enchanted bodhràn drum.

The denomination wasn't correct and the Inverness family knew it, but they still insisted on calling it the Pied Piper's Drum. The story fit with the instrument's abilities and it made for an interesting story; but they were known for considering the flute as more of an heirloom and a cautionary tale than anything that should really be put to use. Molly had recently testified to never having used it to bolster her clientèle. It was hers to keep, she'd said to the cops - not hers to use.

Quint, obviously, had no such reservations. The Piper's Drum could enthrall whoever heard its beating heart, making the player pass for someone of exceptional character. When it was used for good, the Drum allowed well-intentioned individuals to steer their audience away from danger. When self-interest motivated the player, however, the generated adoration wasn't temporary - it overpowered all listeners and was liable to tear crowds apart and break armies altogether.

As for Bagley, this proved to be an introduction to the realm of bottom-feeding criminals with a chip on their shoulder and an ego to ceaselessly bolster. Newspaper clippings sharing space with arcane theory textbooks on the table and psychology articles loaded inside his field of view's interface, he was consigning a quick set of notes into a fresh notebook. Every now and then, the roanes would hear him sigh. He didn't like what he was seeing and reading, while his muttered comments were fairly clear.

Quint's was a wasted life and squandered potential; all because nobody had been there to revise a star-struck young man's ambitions. Better parents and relatives would have done the trick, people with more backbone and less overdone fondness; and friends with less sycophantic tendencies would have maintained the lab tech's self-image to healthy levels.

* * *

"I can imagine," agreed Delmar. "He reminds me of an overeager member of the Prelacy: all too willing to sacrifice everything he owns for the sake of his five minutes of oratory fame. When these poor wretches' plans fail, they notice only when it's too late."

There was a pause. "I wish Lucian were in better shape. He's long since battled against self-defeating enemies and found ways to make them see the harm they did to themselves. From what you read, I doubt we'll have this much luck with this fellow."

[TennyoCeres84]

"Well, shit," murmured Neasa, a bit dumbfounded by her discovery. She then turned to her siblings and Bagley and explained, "Seems Quint's looking to enthrall Hope with a magic drum. That must've been why Mr. Mac Loch was after him. There was also a theft of audio equipment, so it seems he's hoping to broadcast this thing's effects."

"That would explain some local curio shops' interest in a customer's demands and packages sent to a mailbox belonging to him," stated Ciaran.

"And add that to a power-hungry asshole that can wield Hellfire, and we've got ourselves a genuine problem," Aislinn muttered.

***

"Agreed. I'm going to head over there now and see what he's up to," Meris told her mentor, grabbing her satchel before leaving The Old Sea Dog. She continued to search the internet on her cellphone for clues on Quint's intentions. If the collective of young superheroes were piecing together a scenario based off of police reports of thefts, the archmage read message board posts of the warthog's recent activity and the associated worry that went with it. She bit her bottom lip at the mention of the arcane artifact and hoped she would be able to help in some fashion.