Chapter II: Gravity

[IamLEAM1983]

If Meris seemed a bit intrigued by the mechanics at play, this was nothing new for Tom. Boredom pulled at his features as he watched the now actively possessed goat shake his head as if he'd delivered a zinger. The warthog locked eyes with the onscreen image as if the Black Goat were really there with them, and cleared his throat.

"Schoolyard antics, my dear Prince? I suspect you know enough to understand you haven't pulled on the right strings... Look at Preston: he looks about the same as he would if you'd failed your trial round at the local comedy club."

The possessed anthro narrowed his eyes, but still parted with a shrug. "It was worth a shot; the whelp didn't know I didn't know about his mother. Everyone has their breaking point, however, that one face or name that strips away all forms of defense...
- I'm sure you'll find mister Hauser's," sarcastically agreed Tom, on a tone that rather suggested he doubted it. "Since you're here, recording this from the past and picking up our fed lines months before we'll even speak them, how about humoring my friends with a quick explainer?"

Leonard snorted. "Angel Time - isn't it always Angel Time? I know what you'll say and when you'll say it, and can give you the illusion of a real-time conversation taking place, even if you're looking at months-old footage from a tape the poor idiot buried in his backyard. You can imagine how terrified he'll be, once he'll come to and view this footage, can't you? Himself, talking to people that aren't there, that won't be there to respond to him, for months on end?
- And why blow your cover, hm?" asked Archie. "You could've carved yourself a cozy niche in the back of mister Ephesian's mind, waited for however long it is you require, and then claimed him with practically no opposition. You know we'll expect you, after all."

The demon chuckled. "What a bright little tin soldier you are, Archibald Holden... What are you going to do, realistically? Cuff him for a month straight, entrap him in mile after mile of woven warding spells, give the old Archon a chance to keep digging the proverbial knife in by instigating mind control on him? Or what if you were to put him out, hm? Stick him in a Stasis field or an artificial coma, lock him down so his flesh is of no use to me?

At some point, you'd all let your guard down. It's in your nature to become complacent when things go your way - and trust me when I say Lambert's class-action will be the smoothest, least obtrusive round of corporate mud-slinging you'll all have ever seen."

The shackled anthro shrugged on screen. "All I need is a few seconds of quality time with the good lawyer, something you'll find in abundance in any courtroom, even if you were to stick a grunt onto him at every waking moment... You'll fail, bladders and sphincters being what they are... Or would you rather tell the old man he's setting himself up for a urinary bypass or a colostomy? To shit and piss in a bag so some big, bad spirit doesn't claim him?"

He raised an ineffective finger, his wrists being tied. "Suppose you use your remote Clank-control device you keep in the observatory and send him off to the courtroom by proxy, using some of your spare parts, mister Holden... Then I'll just follow along the etheric link you'll have provided me with, and claim his body from the comfort of your own abode. Suppose you shuttle the lawsuit itself and call the entire thing off - then I'll still claim him. Now, I can't change court dates and that still leaves you with a month - but it's a month you're all guaranteed to spend powerless."

The demon's grin was infuriating - too wide, too self-assured, too gleeful and mean to even belong on the goat's face. "Any questions?"

Three had been thinking furiously as the demon gloated, only for something to strike his mind as he looked at Meris, Aislinn and Tom. "Okay," he then said, his tone dismissive, "so we're hosed. We give Ephesian a cushy month off, you possess him - and then what?"

The Prince seemed pleasantly surprised by this question. "His soul falls into the Pit, and you'll be stuck with me, trying to explain to Thomas and his wife why the old man is suddenly so... full of vim and vigor. What else?"

Three pouted. "We'll plan ahead, then."

The goat blinked, as he now was the one who seemed taken aback. "W-What do you mean, plan ahead?! There's nothing left to plan, mister Drake! You've lost!
- You've planned for this conversation up until this point, haven't you?" deduced the soldier. "Your Angel Time only stretches this far; you were certain we'd shut the tape off and scramble for a plan."

Again, the goat went limp onscreen, only to return moments later. This time, amusement had vacated his features entirely. "This isn't supposed to happen, whelp!" he spat.

Three smirked. "Look again, Captain Ego - I've changed plans again," he said, tapping his right temple.

Once more, the goat went limp. He was livid once he returned, pupils constricted and gums bared as he snarled. "FEED THIS BODY TO THE SQUIDS AND I'LL FLAY CARRIE SILVA'S SOUL PERSONALLY!"

Three sent a shit-eating grin to the group, before locking eyes to the broadcasted goat again. "Angels and demons have to witness each potential in order to be able to account for it, but we mortals can just... change our minds. You've planned for one sequence of events? Then we just have to follow another. Trust me, Goat Guy - you're going to Shit. The. Bed. once you'll realize what we've got in store for you."

The goat's pupils were constricted, his teeth gnashed and his nostrils flaring, what finally left him being an impotent, if still acutely furious bleat. He seemingly grasped at the camera using impromptu telekinetics, his chair briefly levitating before the camera was flung across the room and smashed against the wall. Static then filled the screen.

Archie looked to Preston. "I suppose mister Ephesian has found a means to restore the camera to working order, or else we would not have another chunk of footage left to observe. The timestamps indicated the total recording time was still missing a half-hour. We still have thirty minutes of film to scrub through."

Tom, however, gave Three a skeptical look. "Good job angering a Prince of the Pit, Aidan - I hope your plan works well enough. Please tell me you weren't serious about feeding our client to the local cultists..."

Aidan chuckled at that. "Never in a million years. I did seriously consider it, though - just so the Prince's timetable would become invalid. He's expecting a wildly different approach, and we don't have time to restructure what we've put together. We keep going as-is, but add in precautions in case we do fail. That's the arcane department's jurisdiction," he said, looking to the magic users in the room."

He then looked to Jenkins and pursed his lips. "We also need to consider termination procedures. If the Prince has to kill him to claim his body, and considering how nonlethal options leave dangerous openings behind, we might have to kill Ephesian ourselves... If we have some sort of reception protocol in place for his soul, we might be able to turn the tables around - turn our failure into an advantage. That goes without mentioning how the Prince seems to ignore what's happened to Rhadamantus. We have that on our side as well."

[TennyoCeres84]

Aislinn looked over at Tom, wondering if Quigley had anything in mind to add to their plans. Then again, the snake anthro didn't know of their Infernal escapades and rescue of Rhadamantus. They had another portion of the video to watch, which she was not entirely sure what else could be on the film. They also were waiting to see Naberius' decision regarding their great-grandmother's candidacy as an Heiress of Solomon. That'd give them even more resources to use, but that was mainly to keep other high-ranking demons at bay. How could the Court influence the events around Ephesian? There were still a lot variables to account for, which caused the selkie to subconsciously reach for Tom's hand and gently squeeze it as though she were looking for some reassurance.

Meris herself felt like she was in limbo, as she couldn't predict the Steward's final decision. While he had already indicated some of her positive traits, she knew she couldn't be tempted by jumping the gun and assuming anything. She'd have to wait. In the meantime, she set her eyes back on the television for whenever the canine demon was ready to resume it again.

[IamLEAM1983]

The next segment was far more brief, while still being fairly disturbing. They saw Leonard watch what had just transpired, plus a few extra minutes of the Black Goat entertaining himself in whatever way his shackled limbs allowed him to. There wasn't much for him to do, except cool off and calm himself. Mildly frustrated idle whistling was heard offscreen as the now-lucid anthro repeatedly touched his face - a gesture of obvious dismay. There was a brief subjective POV shot of the camera's broken lens being replaced, the surroundings now replaced with the goat's tool shed - and finally another long perspective shot of the living room, this time at night. Naberius sped through what was six real-time hours of what seemed like fitful rest, only for heavy footfalls to sound off near the 3 AM mark, only a few weeks after Machae's failed coup.

The goat came down the stairs to the second floor, his gestures sluggish and imprecise. With eyes that were barely open and deep breaths bordering on outright snores, he seemed to struggle against himself as he took the camera down, unplugged it and carried it to the back yard. At first, they'd justifiably assume that the demon was controlling the body, but it would quickly become clear that the goat's waking mind had broken through his sleep patterns to try and accomplish something incognito - outside of the Prince's perceptions.

Laboriously, as though walking to the tool shed and picking up a gardening spade were colossal efforts, Ephesian managed to effectively sleepwalk his way through the process of burying the tape in the hole Preston and Archie had found, the feed breaking once the tape they'd recovered ended.

Naberius paused the recording. "The physical contents of this tape end here, but I've included the following as well - purely in the interest of some well-deserved schnadenfreude," he said, contempt for the Prince briefly texturing his words.

They saw an up-close view of the entrance hall's floor, Leonard's off-camera voice wishing a good week to what had to be Thomas and his granddaughters. The earnestness of earlier had disappeared, something making it seem as though he now were faking his pleasure at receiving his own family. Indeed, as soon as the door was shut, halting breaths and various other sounds of internal struggle were heard.

"Where'd you put that tape, wretch?" asked the demon, his teeth clenched, the same breath switching to the body's rightful owner claiming he didn't know what he was talking about.

"I'll find it," groused the Prince, "I'll find it and make you swallow it!"

Followed several jump cuts that explained the spade marks that had been visible across the back yard - the product of the demon's frantic and aimless search for something he had no clues for. When the yard didn't yield anything, the now-unconsciously bleating Fiend returned inside and trashed the office in search of it, still carrying the DV camera and its new tape.

"Why'd they get a new tape?" asked Three, choosing to refer as Leonard and the demon as two distinct entities - hence the plural.

Naberius shrugged. "It is a common tactic among modern possessed individuals and the demons that plague them. Speaking with a distinct personality that has elected domain in your own mind being a difficult prospect to handle in public, either the victim or the parasite feel compelled to find a technological prosthesis to solve the issue. If you run into other cases of active possession, keeping an eye on their purchase history can yield clues as to how severe the invasion is. Almost every victim tries to bargain with its tormentor; some even develop a supernatural cousin to Stockholm Syndrome."

The soldier crossed his arms. "Why didn't Ephesian mention any of this earlier? Curran thinks he's still in the passive stages of demonic oppression.
- It could be he was coerced into lying to you," suggested the Steward, "or that the shame of his predicament is great enough to make the issue appear more delicate than it really is. Realizing your life is no longer your own can destroy the self-esteem or motivation of many a previously-driven individual. I would not accuse the poor man of anything as things are - his reaction is entirely within the norms of such a situation."

[TennyoCeres84]

Aislinn frowned in concern. "So, what do we do now with the actual Leonard? He's upstairs, and he was resting but probably isn't now. We'll have to keep what preparations we have under wraps, unless we want to risk the Bastard Goat eavesdropping over his shoulder and lose what element of surprise that we have," she wondered.

"Even with his rest, he's going to need some emotional support to keep his mind focused, beyond just the upcoming trial," she noted.

[Karl the Mad]

Charles caught Three's eye, nodded soberly. "Ahead a' ya there, Drakey," he murmured. No use discussing it out loud any further; killing Leonard was assuredly a last resort, and there would need be preparations first to ensure they didn't simply end up fulfilling the Prince's goals.

Mary looked a little troubled, meanwhile. "Leonard is obviously farther along that we'd anticipated," she stated. "Can we accelerate our own plans to match his?" She glanced at Tom. "That meeting you asked for earlier is in the morning, by the way. You weren't invited, unfortunately, but we'll think of you!"

And while all that was going on, Preston had found a pen and paper, and was scribbling a note.

Ask your brother to investigate an organization called Alexandria Antiquities, would you? He must be cautious; I tried my own poking about and almost got imprisoned again, this is not something to fuck about with! I don't know who or even what it is, all I know is that name, and an HPD vice detective, Tiara Delgado.

Delgado's corrupt as hell, a control-freak who flips out if she hasn't got all the strings in hand. She's been dogging me for years, I've no doubt she's involved, but I can't mess with her; every bent cop in the entire city is in her pocket, or her panties. A lot of cops, I know, she spends more time digging on her own colleagues than she does doing any actual work. When she's not having me picked up again, anyway.

Whatever he decides to do, whatever YOU decide to do, KEEP MY NAME OUT OF IT. I've been telling all of you for months that Preston Hauser is a black mark, a fat red target, and if either of you slip up, you'll find out exactly what I mean. If I don't find out first.

Keep this secret from the others as well, for now. We don't have time to actively pursue this, it's MY vendetta and we'll deal with it when the time's right.

That done, he folded the paper several times and surreptitiously stuck it in Archie's pocket.

[IamLEAM1983]

"Thank you," replied the warthog, "a bit of relief and a lot of gratitude hanging behind his words. "I know a few people Downstairs who'd kiss you if they could; I was starting to doubt of my ability to carry refugees from Asmodeus' seraglio away to safety. I hope for your sake you'll never have to hang onto promises for too long, Mary," he said, looking as though he had experience in the matter."

Three was intrigued. "What does that involve?
- Mary knows," supplied the warthog, "and so does Aislinn, but I'd rather not talk about it here or now. I chose the least contentious option I had available, and even then I'm aware that you wouldn't approve."

It didn't take much for the soldier to put two and two together. "You're working on those plans you teased us with - and you're proceeding the way a warlock would.
- Considering the problem I'm trying to solve," replied the warthog, "I have no other options. None that are feasible on the short term, at least. The second-best option involved Elysium and Rendell's old cloning tanks. That much, I can disclose."

Archie shared a look of disapproval with the soldier, but didn't weigh in on the issue. "We shall leave this matter in your hands, Tom. I hope for your sake - as well as everyone else's - that you are able to circumscribe your personal implications in such a way as to spare the rest of us."

Magnus nodded. "I knew you'd never caution a good portion of what I need to do from the moment I set out to work with you all. I'd never ask you to get involved, boss. It's the nature of the beast - my people have needs law-abiding mortals don't need to consider. It doesn't make these requirements any less pressing for their own safety. For every hour I spend with you, rebelling incubi and succubi are being rounded up by other Bailiffs and other Judges and are all but summarily executed for the crime of abstinence. I have a chance to save a handful, and I intend to take it. They deserve a shot at peace and productivity - a bit of what you've allowed me to experience here."

That seemed to make Naberius sink into a thoughtful mood, stroking his moustache as he glanced between Meris, Tom and Aislinn. "Hm... Vassago did find something to the effect of Iram being reborn in the recent years - or at the very least, in the near future... Ishtar's New Gates being raised in the form of two towers, and all three planes finding solace and collaboration within their walls... This would only further motivate the presence of an Heir or Heiress of Solomon; a herald of diplomacy for when tempers will flare and our alliance will be tested."

That confused Archie. "Is... Is this ordained?
- Ordained?" repeated the Steward with an amused chuckle, "No, not at all. Mortal free will has a way of tugging at the strands of Fate every which way; and this is but one potential. It is, however, a strong one, fed by your current and potentially future plights. Duke Vassago has recorded many sacrifices ahead, and even times in which you could be dubbed villains by the oblivious masses - but the New Gates heralded a golden age according to his research, a time of healing before greater challenges arise."

Recapping this seemed to satisfy the Steward, as it did seem like the group's problems and strokes of good luck were merging into something favourable. Lightly fidgeting in his chair, he downed the last of his wine and smirked at Meris. "I must say, dear Archmage, rarely have I met a potential that came with such a promising retinue. Most beckon me on their lonesome and misunderstand my requirements entirely, but your few breaches of protocol have been pleasantly revealing. Solomon stood as an elder statesman surrounded by his advisors - but I find myself in the company of something of an even greater quality. Friends."

Coughing slightly, Naberius dug into his morning coat and pulled out what looked like an ordinary ring box, as if he were about to propose to Meris. In essence, it wasn't that much of a stretch, either: Meris was courting a function rather than a person - a set of distinctions rather than someone's outright love.

Power, after all, functioned a lot like love. You could gain it, share it, squander it or use it wisely. You could also use it, abuse it or carelessly forget it. You could run away from it or spend ages trying to restore it. You fell out of it, could be corrupted by it...

The Steward stood up and laced his words with power, even if something in his tone remained natural. "As Steward of the Court of Shadows and Seat of Knowledge brought forth by King Solomon, Lord of Israel, under the Almighty's accord; I, Naberius, demon of sound mind and freed of all bondage, do declare one Meris of the Orcades to be worthy of bearing the Sacred Seal."

He eyed the rest of the group and added what felt like an impromptu deviation from his own protocol. "May those who stand within the halls of one Archibald Aloysius Holden bear witness, and become Heralds of the Heiress. May you spread peace, equity, probity and goodwill to all those you touch, in your own names as well as that of the Sacred Seal, in all the places and planes you may walk."

The canine demon then slowly set one knee down as he opened the ring box, revealing the one artifact of the old king Amazo had never managed to find in all his years. The Seal didn't look like much; a simple copper band with inscriptions in primitive Hebrew lining it. On the arcane level, however, it felt as though the demon had just offered Meris a chunk of live Strontium-19. The roane would have handled or felt the presence of other magical artifacts in her long life, but she would've never experienced such a concentration of raw power in such a tiny object. If Gawain Machae had gotten his hands on the Seal, the tiniest of copper slivers from it could've powered an arcane bomb powerful enough to wipe the city off the map! That tiny ring exuded so much power, in fact, that even the mundanes in the room would get a rare glimpse in the kind of bone-deep shivers and instinctive awareness of via that practitioners lived with.

Strangely enough, while it would've exuded enough arcane radiation to jeopardize Mary's life - she'd encountered objects that had been needing to be contained in the past, lest her exosuit ports misbehave - it felt like the ring knew it posed a danger to her, and instead wove its power around her implants, intentionally shielding them. Was the ring sapient on some level?

"This Court finds you Wise, Meris," intoned Naberius. "Will you accept our blessing?"

[TennyoCeres84]

Meris visibly shuddered at the vibrations coming from the power-filled ring, feeling as though the hairs on her body had stood up. She had indeed come across various artifacts that emanated strong levels of via, but this tiny object was beyond anything she had ever seen or experienced. She knew it was something to be respected and handled carefully, almost like a wild animal that trusted her but also carried its own wisdom. She didn't own it but had only been deemed suitable to bear its power and influence.

The archmage let out a slightly shaky sigh and nodded gratefully, albeit with a tinge of nervousness. She presented her right hand, delicate webs stretching out between her fingers. "Yes, I accept the Court's blessing, and I will strive to fulfill its requirements and uphold King Solomon's legacy in all my thoughts and actions," she said quietly.

Between the sheer power embodied in that ring and the honor of being declared Heralds, Aislinn, Ciaran, and Neasa had shivered, sitting in quiet awe at the scene.

[Karl the Mad]

Preston was sensitive, although he wasn't consciously aware of it, and as the Seal was brought forth he found himself leaning forward, eyes fixated on the ancient artifact. "No way," he murmured, his dark eyes seeming to shine a little. Was he a Herald now? How many titles could a man have, anyway? Heir, fixer, courier, spy, hacker... now Herald. Sounded like a newspaper.

Mary wasn't quite sensitive herself, but she knew power when it was staring her in the face! And that? That was power, right there. She'd gone so far as to rise halfway out of her seat, trembling slightly from the sudden need to run out of the room lest her implants go haywire. But the thing was exposed before she could properly act, and-! Nothing. "Huh?" she muttered, looking slightly gobsmacked as her body failed to fail.

"Herald, eh," Charles remarked neutrally, acknowledging the blessing with a sarcastic two-finger salute. He wasn't sure about all that peace and equity stuff, but he was sure about the trust placed on his shoulders, and he had no intention of betraying it. "'kay..."

[IamLEAM1983]

Tom let out a sympathetic chuckle at Mary's puzzlement. "The Seal is an artifact made to be used for good, the knowledge it contains allows it to understand how to spare you. To put it simply, you're not experiencing structural implant failures because it doesn't want you to. The same applies to Archie, Bucky, Bagley, and every bit of post-Accords tech we have available here. The Seal could neutralize your sword's sustaining power, for instance - but only if Meris wills it to do so."

As for the interested party, the object would only feel curiously warm around her finger, the heat seeping into her like the glow of a fireplace after a long day spent out in chilly weather. Slowly, the heat would spread across her body, enveloping her and permeating every last undying cell. As it reached her head, that gentle radiance coalesced into words, faces and concepts. Things gently bubbled up to the surface of Meris' conscious mind, almost as if she'd always known them, had forgotten them and had experienced some sort of epiphany.

On some level, she'd understand, the Seal contained a shade of Solomon's own experiences, impressions left behind that gently colored the world around her. Once an honored guest, she'd suddenly have the feeling that Naberius was more of a dependable friend than just someone she'd needed to impress - almost as if she'd known him for as long as she'd known George. Other faces and names crept up, along with the knowledge that her ties with them were largely steeped in mutual respect.

Agares would know where all her friends and loved ones were and would always point her in their direction. Vassago would peer into the past, present or distant future at her behest, and dispense relevant advice as informed by his research. Samigina ruled over those who had fallen in Leviathan's domain without reaching the Pit and commanded ghostly ships that endlessly sailed the seven seas, just half a step out of the mortal plane. Marbas had been the handler for Solomon's mortal spies, and would prove invaluable if Preston or Arthur needed to coordinate efforts with fellow snoops overseas or across the Planes. Valefor, King of Thieves, would secretly watch over Preston, or hasten other mission-critical heists where applicable. Amon, the Lesser Sun, had stood against Baphomet and had instead protected Egypt and its people by fathering the formulas behind the Osirite undead - old kings and servants bound to the sun's course and sworn to Nature's cause...

Name after Name after Name, each remembered effortlessly, some with a bit of distance, as if Solomon hadn't transacted with them too often, and others coming with memories that weren't her own, or that bled into what was hers to remember... There was the old Captain Sam in the back of her mind, the aquatic demon's green skin glistening in the Caribbean sun, both of their mouths stretched in a battle cry as they launched into her fateful assault against the Chamberlain's Corsair forces! He'd always been there, hadn't he? Fighting by her side, his cutlass her own to draw forth, his ships hers to point out to the distant corners of the Earth? He'd sipped rum with her, split his own spoils with her, and had only stepped away when men of the cloth somehow ended aboard her ship!

Of course, she'd know none of that had actually happened - or had it? Considering Angel Time's nature and her own strokes of seafaring luck and the few tavern brawls her long life had conveniently dulled away to faded embers, maybe he had actually been there...

More Names - over a hundred of them, effortlessly rising forth like remembered ingredients to an old recipie or notes to one of her memorized songs. Names, yes - and also a place. A palace without any entrance and no windows, existing as both an apparently featureless mesa in Jordan and a similar geographical feature in the Pit - hers to enter with the Key.

The Key, which was now deeply nestled into her mind. Her palace had no door because every door could lead to it, if she only wished it. 

[TennyoCeres84]

As she felt the warmth spread through and around her, Meris unconsciously brought a few fingers to the side of her temple, seemingly astounded by the many names, appearances, and odd blend of memories. With some of the demons feeling like they had been friends or at least comrades, it caused her to tear up, feeling a sudden swelling of emotion wash over her. It felt like a strange reunion, yet it was completely new and welcoming... Even with the demons that didn't seem to have as close a working relationship with Solomon as the others, she felt respected by them as much as she respected them.

Then there was the notion of a palace that only she had access to and its door unlocked only with a thought. That was intriguing, and it somewhat reminded her of the mental refuge she had shared with Nereus, only it being for a completely different purpose. She would explore it in due time.

Dabbing her tears away with a finger, she smiled at Naberius and softly told him, "Thank you."