Meris put the regret-coins she had collected from the floor into the box and nodded to him. "Thanks," she said, departing from the bus and going up the steps of the Greco-Roman building, looking for said signs.
She sent to the two men, "How do you want to play this? We can't exactly keep pretending that we've recently died. A Teacher or Seducer could probably cross-reference our lives against what we say, determine whether we're telling the truth or not. I thought about using the mental key the Court gave to me to access the palace, but I don't know how reachable Pandemonium's Council is from the palace."
***
Aislinn caught Tom's signal and displayed her own contemptuous expression, placing her hands on her hips. Katya returned to her "native" accent and told them, "Play nice with Mr. Volkov, boys, and things will go smoothly for everybody."
***
Feeling the pressure Jericho applied to her arm, Neasa feigned weakness, at first, bending to him. Just as it seemed her arm was about to be down for the count, the seal woman felt a surge of power travel through her arm and suddenly pushed the Berserker's arm back the other way, having it make contact with the bar.
Chapter III: The Fall
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Karl the Mad
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Re: Chapter III: The Fall
An inch from losing, Jericho brought Neasa's advance to a halt yet again. There was no more smile on his face; indeed, he seemed about an inch away from snarling at her. Again he shoved back, clearly not joking around anymore.
---------------------------
"Surely we've got friends around here," Charles replied, his mental voice lacking the verbal confusion of his speaking voice. "Let's just find one of these Teachers and start asking questions, yeah? I bet they get wanderers down here all the time."
---------------------------
"What she doing here?" one of the goons muttered, glaring at Mary. "She not into flesh."
"No, but I am into facilitation," Mary shot back, having heard the man. "Mr. Volkov is my new friend; annoy him, and you'll won't just have to deal with him, you'll have to deal with me and all my other friends too." Referring to the Triad she partially controlled, obviously. That put the goon in his place, and his muttering subsided.
---------------------------
"Surely we've got friends around here," Charles replied, his mental voice lacking the verbal confusion of his speaking voice. "Let's just find one of these Teachers and start asking questions, yeah? I bet they get wanderers down here all the time."
---------------------------
"What she doing here?" one of the goons muttered, glaring at Mary. "She not into flesh."
"No, but I am into facilitation," Mary shot back, having heard the man. "Mr. Volkov is my new friend; annoy him, and you'll won't just have to deal with him, you'll have to deal with me and all my other friends too." Referring to the Triad she partially controlled, obviously. That put the goon in his place, and his muttering subsided.
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter III: The Fall
Archie drummed on the counter with the fingers of one hand, the other holding his chin up. "I would say something to the effect of one of you being able to break the other's forearm, but I have no idea as to who that would be..."
* * *
The group's protests having been quelled for now, Tom slipped a hand into his overcoat, thumbing his cell phone as he did so. A pre-typed text was sent to Preston, seeing as Hauser would've already tapped into Kozlovsky's account.
Phase One.
- T.
That meant Hauser had to tweak Dima's account in order to have it seem as though six million dollars had been deposited into it from that Kazakhstan outlet he'd have already breached. Tom was really just having Preston shuffle Sergei's own money around, but the head goon wouldn't know as much in the immediate.
Completing the gesture, Magnus called Hauser through a redirected Russian area code. The hacker didn't especially need to respond, Tom had only wanted to add versimilitude to the deception. Not that Preston spoke Russian, though. As far as Dima would know, the warthog arranged for a bank transfer with a few words.
"Feel free to consult your banking services, gentlemen," he told the group, "I've forwarded you what is sure to appease further complaints. Now, may we see merchandise, or should we... discuss further?"
* * *
"We'd need to know where to find one, first," reminded Three. "Let's follow the process for a few more steps; we're likely to find some way to diverge from it later on."
The City Hall was immense, compared to Hope's. The entrance hall had palatial dimensions, a gigantic dome towering over an equally massive statue, seemingly carved out of glowing Brimstone, with glowing Hellfire veins pulsating across its surface. It depicted what could've been an aged relative of a Blue Chimera, heavy robes covering its form as it sat on some sort of throne. Even carved out of stone, the figure's advanced age was obvious; a mixture of exhaustion, patience, resignation and hard-earned nobility perceptible in the man's traits. He was leaning forward and a bit to the right, as a naked and sexless humanoid figure reached for him. The goat-like figure looked to be lending the supplicant his ear, one bony hand reaching down to offer help.
On the plaque beneath the sculpted throne were carved two lines:
AHRIMAN
"We are Advisors and Healers, giving Form and Purpose. Through this, We gain Penance."
Past the statue waited a front lobby, where a bored-looking female demon directed the group to the Census and Registration offices, in the East wing of the building. Once there, Three wasn't long in finding what Meris might have been looking for: a door. They'd ended up in a waiting area, complete with softly broadcasted Soft Rock, where souls from various time periods bemusedly came in contact with the reality of having to parse through old magazines. Pandemonium being focused on respecting the particulars of the physical plane, it stood to reason that the Infernal City had its own share of celebs and gossip-generating figures.
One of the two doors displayed both the Male and Female pictograms - suggesting it was a bathroom - while the other carried a nameplate.
Shaldoth - "Sheldon"
Minor Socratic Demon
Penance Evaluation Services
Three blinked at the sight of an officer from Imperial China flicking through a magazine titled 21st Century News.
"Excuse me," he asked, "but how can you read modern English?"
The Chinese man, who was still wearing both his bun and armour, scoffed lightly. "The same reason it sounds to me like you're speaking Mandarin. We're loose souls, or so I was told. Language barriers don't mean squat here."
* * *
The group's protests having been quelled for now, Tom slipped a hand into his overcoat, thumbing his cell phone as he did so. A pre-typed text was sent to Preston, seeing as Hauser would've already tapped into Kozlovsky's account.
Phase One.
- T.
That meant Hauser had to tweak Dima's account in order to have it seem as though six million dollars had been deposited into it from that Kazakhstan outlet he'd have already breached. Tom was really just having Preston shuffle Sergei's own money around, but the head goon wouldn't know as much in the immediate.
Completing the gesture, Magnus called Hauser through a redirected Russian area code. The hacker didn't especially need to respond, Tom had only wanted to add versimilitude to the deception. Not that Preston spoke Russian, though. As far as Dima would know, the warthog arranged for a bank transfer with a few words.
"Feel free to consult your banking services, gentlemen," he told the group, "I've forwarded you what is sure to appease further complaints. Now, may we see merchandise, or should we... discuss further?"
* * *
"We'd need to know where to find one, first," reminded Three. "Let's follow the process for a few more steps; we're likely to find some way to diverge from it later on."
The City Hall was immense, compared to Hope's. The entrance hall had palatial dimensions, a gigantic dome towering over an equally massive statue, seemingly carved out of glowing Brimstone, with glowing Hellfire veins pulsating across its surface. It depicted what could've been an aged relative of a Blue Chimera, heavy robes covering its form as it sat on some sort of throne. Even carved out of stone, the figure's advanced age was obvious; a mixture of exhaustion, patience, resignation and hard-earned nobility perceptible in the man's traits. He was leaning forward and a bit to the right, as a naked and sexless humanoid figure reached for him. The goat-like figure looked to be lending the supplicant his ear, one bony hand reaching down to offer help.
On the plaque beneath the sculpted throne were carved two lines:
AHRIMAN
"We are Advisors and Healers, giving Form and Purpose. Through this, We gain Penance."
Past the statue waited a front lobby, where a bored-looking female demon directed the group to the Census and Registration offices, in the East wing of the building. Once there, Three wasn't long in finding what Meris might have been looking for: a door. They'd ended up in a waiting area, complete with softly broadcasted Soft Rock, where souls from various time periods bemusedly came in contact with the reality of having to parse through old magazines. Pandemonium being focused on respecting the particulars of the physical plane, it stood to reason that the Infernal City had its own share of celebs and gossip-generating figures.
One of the two doors displayed both the Male and Female pictograms - suggesting it was a bathroom - while the other carried a nameplate.
Shaldoth - "Sheldon"
Minor Socratic Demon
Penance Evaluation Services
Three blinked at the sight of an officer from Imperial China flicking through a magazine titled 21st Century News.
"Excuse me," he asked, "but how can you read modern English?"
The Chinese man, who was still wearing both his bun and armour, scoffed lightly. "The same reason it sounds to me like you're speaking Mandarin. We're loose souls, or so I was told. Language barriers don't mean squat here."
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter III: The Fall
While being annoyed at the aristocrat's statement, Neasa merely let go of the vampire's hand, somewhat exasperated with what they had to go through for a damned business proposal.
***
"A sort of automatic translation spell," Meris offered, taking a seat within the waiting room. Picking up another copy of the same magazine, she flipped through it to see what was news for the residents of Pandemonium City.
***
Aislinn stood next to Tom as they waited for a response, having folded her arms over her chest.
***
"A sort of automatic translation spell," Meris offered, taking a seat within the waiting room. Picking up another copy of the same magazine, she flipped through it to see what was news for the residents of Pandemonium City.
***
Aislinn stood next to Tom as they waited for a response, having folded her arms over her chest.
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Karl the Mad
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Re: Chapter III: The Fall
At the selkie's sudden surrender, Jericho was visibly confused. "Wha?" he muttered, giving her a forlorn look. Then he shook his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Urk. I apologize, that was only meant to be a simple, brief contest," he explained. "I do not meet many who can challenge me so, you are quite... provocative."
He gave her a small smile. "What are your names?" he then asked, of Neasa and Ciaran both. "I know I should probably know this, already, but I am not the sort to follow celebrity gossip..."
---------------------------------
Feeling right at home, or at least giving off a very good facsimile thereof, Charles slumped into the chair nearest the Chinese officer. "So what're you in fer?" he asked casually.
----------------------------------
Mary chuckled briefly at this, and brushed her hair back from her face. "What he means, dear, is it's time to put up or shut up. Or, you know, be shut down, as it may be, hm?"
He gave her a small smile. "What are your names?" he then asked, of Neasa and Ciaran both. "I know I should probably know this, already, but I am not the sort to follow celebrity gossip..."
---------------------------------
Feeling right at home, or at least giving off a very good facsimile thereof, Charles slumped into the chair nearest the Chinese officer. "So what're you in fer?" he asked casually.
----------------------------------
Mary chuckled briefly at this, and brushed her hair back from her face. "What he means, dear, is it's time to put up or shut up. Or, you know, be shut down, as it may be, hm?"
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter III: The Fall
Her exasperation fading away in the back of her mind, Neasa returned the small smile with her own. "I'm Neasa McConmara. I don't often find someone I can test my strength against, so I kinda got wrapped up in it myself," she admitted, chuckling lightly.
"Ciaran McConmara," the male selkie introduced, giving a smile to Liddane. "Neasa's my older sister. We've been working with Archie since all the turmoil with MacHae earlier this year, after the Centennial Tree awoke and such."
"Ciaran McConmara," the male selkie introduced, giving a smile to Liddane. "Neasa's my older sister. We've been working with Archie since all the turmoil with MacHae earlier this year, after the Centennial Tree awoke and such."
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter III: The Fall
Archie lightly pushed his bowl aside, having finished his soup and bread. "They've done well, all things considered," he said to Liddane. "Rarely would anyone ask of civilians that they follow the police force's procedures, but the addition of a few trained operatives has smoothed things out. I've now found myself working with a dock worker, a boutique owner and a tattoo artist who would all put my old Indian comrades to shame, based on how quickly they fall in for briefings and have constituted their own esprit de corps."
He smirked. "It helps that they're all siblings, of course - but that sense of kinship seems to have been extended to the rest of my staff."
Holden's smile then slightly faded. "I take care of my staff, mister Liddane. When someone comes to me with serious personal problems, I take notice. I am not at liberty to speak the name of who in my entourage would benefit from your assistance, but I may say your contribution would facilitate one of our own investigations."
He paused to gesture for a pint, giving Jimmy a brief smile before going back to Jericho. "How familiar are you with the trade of antiques - along with crooked officers?"
* * *
"I followed orders," said the soldier. "Burned books and tried 'spearing the sea's demons'," he said, adding finger-quotes. "The Qin Empire destroyed my family and murdered my culture - all because an insane monarch stuck with mercury poisoning wanted to cheat his way to immortality with no access to a Nexus."
He gestured to the magazine. "The more I read, the more I have some sense of how much time has passed in the mortal world, since I came here. Other demons told me it isn't that simple, that some people from the future just got here or that people from dead civilizations can show up just now - but it doesn't change the fact that I know how much I've helped to destroy. There's entire treaties Confucius wrote that you'll never get to read, because of me."
Three pursed his lips together. "How'd you die?
- I was quartered by the Emperor," he said. "I came to my senses and tried to mount a resistance - but it was too late. I've read about your modern China in there," he said, spitting the word with contempt, "and all I can see is how many bodies it must have been built on. Including mine and my family's."
Aidan seemed surprised. "So, wait - ancient Chinese magic considered mercury as being arcane in nature?
- It's the gods' blood, after all," retorted the soldier with a scoff. "I had to die and come here to even realize the Minamata disease exists. It's not like we had access to textbooks about neurological afflictions three thousand years before Christ. Just as you're stuck with pseudoscience, we had pseudomagic - charlatans who called themselves mages because they'd stumbled across they didn't understand and mistook it for being arcane in nature."
* * *
A few faces angled themselves downwards to ogle their cellphones, variations on blyad! quietly leaving a few bemused lips. Seeing this, Magnus couldn't quite repress a slow grin, and already felt one of his trademark dark chuckles build up in his chest. Instead, what he produced was a sedate reminder:
"Shall we?"
Having been handsomely remunerated - or so they thought - the thugs turned into obliging self-improvised dock hands in very short order, two of them sprinting towards a crane loader to move a few containers. They'd smartly hidden the merchandise in a pile of containers that didn't hold much more than export cars, designer furniture items or a few hundred copies of various Korean home appliances. Feeling inspiration coming on, Tom snapped his fingers and fired off something in Russian that came to the effect of wanting dibs on the furniture and appliance containers' contents. Having been forward-thinking since his awakening in Quint's body, the warlock obviously sought to save himself some time and effort by putting a few items in storage. Once he'd have more personal capital, he'd be able to look for an apartment or a condo without having to worry about shopping for an electric range or a stove.
The items of interest, however, came out of the gloomy interior of a red container. Six cylinders, recognizable as retrofitted Paradise tech, had been bolted to the container floor during transit. Inside, a combination of cryogenics and Stasis technology kept the bodies fresh and alive only on the most basic level.
Tom stepped forward and wiped condensation off of the surface of one canister, exposing pale skin, delicately-sculpted cheekbones and ashen-blonde hair. Old needle track marks could be seen on the woman's inner right wrist, but the restorative and maintaining effects of Stasis had buffed away what the matching passport had once revealed. Irina Orlova had once been a promising Ukranian young woman in her mid-twenties, but what had been presented to her as an overseas modeling gig had turned out to be the dark and seedy underbelly of human traffic.
Now, Orlova was dead. Only her body remained, as comatose as Quint had once been.
The same could be said of Vitaly Cherneyevsky, a Moscovite of displaced African American ancestry. He'd been broad across his shoulders and in seemingly tip-top shape, but bouncing for a club owned by the mob had turned out to be a lethal occupation. His passport came with a medical report - some macho had told him to ignore a bullet that had become lodged in his calf after a short firefight. Cops could ask questions if he came in with a gunshot wound, so he'd been told to tough it out until some backwater surgeon would use butchering tools to dig the bullet out.
That, he certainly had. He'd toughed it out through infection, fever, and finally acute sepsis. He'd died just a few meters away from Moscow's medical campus, hand outstretched towards an ambulance.
The third body was that of an anthro wolf, his musculature wilder than the Black man's and his fur riddled with scars. No passport was attached to the cylinder, but an accident report was. The body had only ever been known as "Mr. Volker" - an on-the-nose name and a pseudonym if there ever was one - and had surprisingly been one of the top enforcers for Sergei's native connections. Exotic names were listed; ostensibly places where the mercenary had worked on the mob's behalf, and a list of his skills had been appended. Volker had been a certified stunt driver and shuttle pilot and had turned a career in the US Special Forces - and a dishonorable discharge - into a money-making scheme.
Unfortunately, grade-A hardasses that had even consulted for Hong Kong's Exo squads weren't immune to brain aneurysms. Volker had seemingly died peacefully in Monaco, hotel staff having found him dead on a pool chair, with a half-empty Dry Martini and an iPod plugged into his ears, still piping Supertramp's Crime of the Century.
He smirked. "It helps that they're all siblings, of course - but that sense of kinship seems to have been extended to the rest of my staff."
Holden's smile then slightly faded. "I take care of my staff, mister Liddane. When someone comes to me with serious personal problems, I take notice. I am not at liberty to speak the name of who in my entourage would benefit from your assistance, but I may say your contribution would facilitate one of our own investigations."
He paused to gesture for a pint, giving Jimmy a brief smile before going back to Jericho. "How familiar are you with the trade of antiques - along with crooked officers?"
* * *
"I followed orders," said the soldier. "Burned books and tried 'spearing the sea's demons'," he said, adding finger-quotes. "The Qin Empire destroyed my family and murdered my culture - all because an insane monarch stuck with mercury poisoning wanted to cheat his way to immortality with no access to a Nexus."
He gestured to the magazine. "The more I read, the more I have some sense of how much time has passed in the mortal world, since I came here. Other demons told me it isn't that simple, that some people from the future just got here or that people from dead civilizations can show up just now - but it doesn't change the fact that I know how much I've helped to destroy. There's entire treaties Confucius wrote that you'll never get to read, because of me."
Three pursed his lips together. "How'd you die?
- I was quartered by the Emperor," he said. "I came to my senses and tried to mount a resistance - but it was too late. I've read about your modern China in there," he said, spitting the word with contempt, "and all I can see is how many bodies it must have been built on. Including mine and my family's."
Aidan seemed surprised. "So, wait - ancient Chinese magic considered mercury as being arcane in nature?
- It's the gods' blood, after all," retorted the soldier with a scoff. "I had to die and come here to even realize the Minamata disease exists. It's not like we had access to textbooks about neurological afflictions three thousand years before Christ. Just as you're stuck with pseudoscience, we had pseudomagic - charlatans who called themselves mages because they'd stumbled across they didn't understand and mistook it for being arcane in nature."
* * *
A few faces angled themselves downwards to ogle their cellphones, variations on blyad! quietly leaving a few bemused lips. Seeing this, Magnus couldn't quite repress a slow grin, and already felt one of his trademark dark chuckles build up in his chest. Instead, what he produced was a sedate reminder:
"Shall we?"
Having been handsomely remunerated - or so they thought - the thugs turned into obliging self-improvised dock hands in very short order, two of them sprinting towards a crane loader to move a few containers. They'd smartly hidden the merchandise in a pile of containers that didn't hold much more than export cars, designer furniture items or a few hundred copies of various Korean home appliances. Feeling inspiration coming on, Tom snapped his fingers and fired off something in Russian that came to the effect of wanting dibs on the furniture and appliance containers' contents. Having been forward-thinking since his awakening in Quint's body, the warlock obviously sought to save himself some time and effort by putting a few items in storage. Once he'd have more personal capital, he'd be able to look for an apartment or a condo without having to worry about shopping for an electric range or a stove.
The items of interest, however, came out of the gloomy interior of a red container. Six cylinders, recognizable as retrofitted Paradise tech, had been bolted to the container floor during transit. Inside, a combination of cryogenics and Stasis technology kept the bodies fresh and alive only on the most basic level.
Tom stepped forward and wiped condensation off of the surface of one canister, exposing pale skin, delicately-sculpted cheekbones and ashen-blonde hair. Old needle track marks could be seen on the woman's inner right wrist, but the restorative and maintaining effects of Stasis had buffed away what the matching passport had once revealed. Irina Orlova had once been a promising Ukranian young woman in her mid-twenties, but what had been presented to her as an overseas modeling gig had turned out to be the dark and seedy underbelly of human traffic.
Now, Orlova was dead. Only her body remained, as comatose as Quint had once been.
The same could be said of Vitaly Cherneyevsky, a Moscovite of displaced African American ancestry. He'd been broad across his shoulders and in seemingly tip-top shape, but bouncing for a club owned by the mob had turned out to be a lethal occupation. His passport came with a medical report - some macho had told him to ignore a bullet that had become lodged in his calf after a short firefight. Cops could ask questions if he came in with a gunshot wound, so he'd been told to tough it out until some backwater surgeon would use butchering tools to dig the bullet out.
That, he certainly had. He'd toughed it out through infection, fever, and finally acute sepsis. He'd died just a few meters away from Moscow's medical campus, hand outstretched towards an ambulance.
The third body was that of an anthro wolf, his musculature wilder than the Black man's and his fur riddled with scars. No passport was attached to the cylinder, but an accident report was. The body had only ever been known as "Mr. Volker" - an on-the-nose name and a pseudonym if there ever was one - and had surprisingly been one of the top enforcers for Sergei's native connections. Exotic names were listed; ostensibly places where the mercenary had worked on the mob's behalf, and a list of his skills had been appended. Volker had been a certified stunt driver and shuttle pilot and had turned a career in the US Special Forces - and a dishonorable discharge - into a money-making scheme.
Unfortunately, grade-A hardasses that had even consulted for Hong Kong's Exo squads weren't immune to brain aneurysms. Volker had seemingly died peacefully in Monaco, hotel staff having found him dead on a pool chair, with a half-empty Dry Martini and an iPod plugged into his ears, still piping Supertramp's Crime of the Century.
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter III: The Fall
Meris' nose wrinkled slightly in annoyance at the thought of pseudomages and put the magazine aside, interested in the Chinese warrior's history. She pointed toward the door with her chin. "How long do you have until you're able to ascend? What have they told you in that regard?" she asked.
***
'Katya' approached the containers and peered inside, looking at the deceased occupants. Inwardly, she felt a pang of sadness for the people within the cylinders, but she feigned an expression of indifference toward them. She sent Tom a look, figuring the bodies would suitable for his friends while also playing along with the act.
***
'Katya' approached the containers and peered inside, looking at the deceased occupants. Inwardly, she felt a pang of sadness for the people within the cylinders, but she feigned an expression of indifference toward them. She sent Tom a look, figuring the bodies would suitable for his friends while also playing along with the act.
-
Karl the Mad
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Re: Chapter III: The Fall
Mary examined the bodies as well, and didn't show any reaction until she came to the nameless wolf. "Diu," she muttered sharply. "I recognize this one." Whichever of Tom's friends inherited this particular body would have quite the reputation to uphold, as it were.
-----------------------------
"Only as much as the next fellow, I would suppose," Jericho answered with a shrug. "Ninety-five percent of the population could not care less for whatever old relics might float about, save for when some grand controversy erupts. Out of the remaining five percent you have museums, private collectors; these folks know their business, their history, and they too, tend not to concern themselves with common things."
He gestured for another Bloody Mary. "It is only at the highest levels of wealth and ostentation that you start to see interesting things. Billionaires and ancient men, obsessed with fulfilling their collections and willing to do anything to fill every last niche. It is as bloody and violent as any civil war, and hardly anyone notices. The artifacts in question could doubtless serve a greater purpose under public display, in circulation among the academic institutions, but those men do not care one whit."
"That's more then I knew," Jimmy joked as he brought their drinks. "Seems you know more'n the 'next fellow', Liddane, hm?"
The native just shrugged again. "Let us simply say I have paid my dues in my chosen profession, hmm? And leave it at that, or we could be here all week. And as far as crooked officers, well..." His face took on a dour look. "You cannot get much more crooked than Detective Tiara Delgado."
------------------------------
Charles gave an admiring whistle. "Bet ye've got some stories, pally, don'cha," he remarked.
-----------------------------
"Only as much as the next fellow, I would suppose," Jericho answered with a shrug. "Ninety-five percent of the population could not care less for whatever old relics might float about, save for when some grand controversy erupts. Out of the remaining five percent you have museums, private collectors; these folks know their business, their history, and they too, tend not to concern themselves with common things."
He gestured for another Bloody Mary. "It is only at the highest levels of wealth and ostentation that you start to see interesting things. Billionaires and ancient men, obsessed with fulfilling their collections and willing to do anything to fill every last niche. It is as bloody and violent as any civil war, and hardly anyone notices. The artifacts in question could doubtless serve a greater purpose under public display, in circulation among the academic institutions, but those men do not care one whit."
"That's more then I knew," Jimmy joked as he brought their drinks. "Seems you know more'n the 'next fellow', Liddane, hm?"
The native just shrugged again. "Let us simply say I have paid my dues in my chosen profession, hmm? And leave it at that, or we could be here all week. And as far as crooked officers, well..." His face took on a dour look. "You cannot get much more crooked than Detective Tiara Delgado."
------------------------------
Charles gave an admiring whistle. "Bet ye've got some stories, pally, don'cha," he remarked.
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter III: The Fall
"Good," replied the false Russian, his apparent breezy lack of care hiding a generous dose of satisfaction. "These will do nicely."
He looked over his shoulder, stopping once he'd locked eyes with Dima. "Consider the payment to have been sent. It should show up in Sergei's account within the hour.
- What do we do with these in the meantime?"
"Volkov" gave it some thought. "Give me the key for this container's padlock - along with the lock and chains."
That done, he handed these objects to "Katya", rattling something in Russian while sending its more honest, detailed, and telepathic English equivalent to both Aislinn and Mary.
"Take these, and lock yourselves in the container from the inside. Unlock everything once I'll knock on the container; I'll repeat the trick I pulled on my closet door and make it open into Archie's basement for you. You'll have ten minutes to unlock the padlock, remove the restraining bolts from the pods using the tools you'll find there and wheel the pods out of the container. I won't be able to keep the spell going for much longer, and I don't want either of you to be trapped here. I'll have mister Wyndham take me to an alleyway somewhere - I'll find a door and join you both as fast as I can."
* * *
"Precisely," replied Archie, who nodded in the affirmative. "A colleague of mine who shall remain anonymous suspects she has her hands in a few pies that may have contributed to his misfortune. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind mucking about, something to the effect of stirring the pot so our dear Lieutenant Detective isn't too keen on taking her anger or suspicions on my own people."
He paused. "You see, our docket has become rather loaded as of late, and outside of first-response situations, we've made it clear to the constabulary that something of an exceptional case has taken our attention. Anyone in their right mind would just leave it at that - but I see our current caseload as an opportunity to make headway elsewhere, and ideally without it being too obvious."
He gestured to Neasa and Ciaran. "Outside of myself, the selkies are to be the only members of my group you may speak to, concerning Delgado and Alexandria Antiquities. The three of us will help you as much as time permits, but do not expect the rest of my cavalry to come swooping in - I've left them out of the current equation in order to better ensure said friend's welfare. If you were to approach me publicly about it, however, I would deny ever sticking my nose in the police's affairs - to save both my employees and my relationship with Miss Lowell."
He then sighed. "To round things out, I shall also ask of my brother that he look into this particular claimant of mine... As much of a colleague as he may be, grief could cause him to miss certain correlations. I would make a poor spy if I did not attempt to second-guess even my allies' motives. Paranoia is an art form in my profession, I'm afraid..."
Then came a look he offered the two roanes. "You'll both start by travelling to Evergloam and speaking to as many footmen as you can. Percy may be held to a certain degree of confidentiality, but the Gruffs' sense of honour is easy to bruise. You're sure to find someone who will have no compunctions against spewing their hatred for Delgado, perhaps someone she would have even attempted to corrupt in the past."
* * *
"None I'm proud of," said the soldier, who nodded. "Zhang Feilong, formerly of Han. Pleased to meet you."
He looked to Meris. "This is my second evaluation. I don't really know how long I've been here, but I've touched pretty much every job you could imagine."
Feilong looked away in thought. "It's funny - I died before gunpowder was discovered, I ended up here; and the last job I took here had me learn how to manage electrical networks and fuse boxes.
The first time, Sheldon told me I still had a lot to learn. I thought I was owed justice and that I'd been duped into following the Emperor along his mad crusade. I know it's my own fault, now. I looked away. I didn't try to save anybody, even when I thought I was playing the part of the freedom fighter. Even while those four horses were pulling me apart, I thought I would inspire people. The truth is I did everything for myself. I stayed selfish the whole way through. Killed people because of it. Talking with my Teacher showed me that much."
Three frowned. "You've got a teacher? Why, are the dead supposed to pick up some sort of trade?"
Feilong scoffed amusedly. "No, not in that sense. Bob is - I guess you could say he started as my surrogate conscience. He was harsh, too - told me to stop pitying myself and own up to what I'd done. Feels like it took a long time. The more time passed, the more it was easier, though. I started in an auditorium with other souls, and now I'm drinking beers with him one or two times a week. He says I'm almost due for Ascension."
Three shrugged. "So what's stopping you?
- I've accepted everything I've done, but I can't... forgive myself just yet. Mind's still full of could'ves and should'ves, and I've got a hard time imagining how anyone like me could be worthy of Heaven."
Aidan looked to the labelled door. "What's Sheldon going to do, then?
- Recommend me for an extended stay, I guess," Feilong said, sighing, "but with a lighter load. Humility's not a problem anymore; I don't need a demon to boss me around to put my ego down a few pegs. They call it Recommended Self-Actualization, us souls call it Navel-Gazing. I'll just... live off of my Regrets until I manage to let go. More or less retire. This place barely feels like Purgatory at all, anyway. It feels... normal, like I haven't died at all."
Three seized the offered opportunity. "Do you think we could speak to Bob?
- I don't know, the Teachers have been on high alert since the Princes started sending folks through again. They're testing the barriers, sending minor demons to possess mortals; so the psychosocial aspects of his job were kind of dialed down until further notice. Now if he isn't sleeping late or drinking, he's training at the Council's armory."
Instead of being dejected by this, Three pursed his lips. "And you said Bob's a hardass, right? The kind of guy who gets heavy caseloads?
- Um, yes?" asked Zhang. "Why?"
Smirking, he looked back to Jenkins. "On the count of three, hit me square in the jaw and pin me to the floor. Leave me a little room to fight back; Meris needs to pitch in too. I'm about to throw the mother of all fits."
He looked over his shoulder, stopping once he'd locked eyes with Dima. "Consider the payment to have been sent. It should show up in Sergei's account within the hour.
- What do we do with these in the meantime?"
"Volkov" gave it some thought. "Give me the key for this container's padlock - along with the lock and chains."
That done, he handed these objects to "Katya", rattling something in Russian while sending its more honest, detailed, and telepathic English equivalent to both Aislinn and Mary.
"Take these, and lock yourselves in the container from the inside. Unlock everything once I'll knock on the container; I'll repeat the trick I pulled on my closet door and make it open into Archie's basement for you. You'll have ten minutes to unlock the padlock, remove the restraining bolts from the pods using the tools you'll find there and wheel the pods out of the container. I won't be able to keep the spell going for much longer, and I don't want either of you to be trapped here. I'll have mister Wyndham take me to an alleyway somewhere - I'll find a door and join you both as fast as I can."
* * *
"Precisely," replied Archie, who nodded in the affirmative. "A colleague of mine who shall remain anonymous suspects she has her hands in a few pies that may have contributed to his misfortune. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind mucking about, something to the effect of stirring the pot so our dear Lieutenant Detective isn't too keen on taking her anger or suspicions on my own people."
He paused. "You see, our docket has become rather loaded as of late, and outside of first-response situations, we've made it clear to the constabulary that something of an exceptional case has taken our attention. Anyone in their right mind would just leave it at that - but I see our current caseload as an opportunity to make headway elsewhere, and ideally without it being too obvious."
He gestured to Neasa and Ciaran. "Outside of myself, the selkies are to be the only members of my group you may speak to, concerning Delgado and Alexandria Antiquities. The three of us will help you as much as time permits, but do not expect the rest of my cavalry to come swooping in - I've left them out of the current equation in order to better ensure said friend's welfare. If you were to approach me publicly about it, however, I would deny ever sticking my nose in the police's affairs - to save both my employees and my relationship with Miss Lowell."
He then sighed. "To round things out, I shall also ask of my brother that he look into this particular claimant of mine... As much of a colleague as he may be, grief could cause him to miss certain correlations. I would make a poor spy if I did not attempt to second-guess even my allies' motives. Paranoia is an art form in my profession, I'm afraid..."
Then came a look he offered the two roanes. "You'll both start by travelling to Evergloam and speaking to as many footmen as you can. Percy may be held to a certain degree of confidentiality, but the Gruffs' sense of honour is easy to bruise. You're sure to find someone who will have no compunctions against spewing their hatred for Delgado, perhaps someone she would have even attempted to corrupt in the past."
* * *
"None I'm proud of," said the soldier, who nodded. "Zhang Feilong, formerly of Han. Pleased to meet you."
He looked to Meris. "This is my second evaluation. I don't really know how long I've been here, but I've touched pretty much every job you could imagine."
Feilong looked away in thought. "It's funny - I died before gunpowder was discovered, I ended up here; and the last job I took here had me learn how to manage electrical networks and fuse boxes.
The first time, Sheldon told me I still had a lot to learn. I thought I was owed justice and that I'd been duped into following the Emperor along his mad crusade. I know it's my own fault, now. I looked away. I didn't try to save anybody, even when I thought I was playing the part of the freedom fighter. Even while those four horses were pulling me apart, I thought I would inspire people. The truth is I did everything for myself. I stayed selfish the whole way through. Killed people because of it. Talking with my Teacher showed me that much."
Three frowned. "You've got a teacher? Why, are the dead supposed to pick up some sort of trade?"
Feilong scoffed amusedly. "No, not in that sense. Bob is - I guess you could say he started as my surrogate conscience. He was harsh, too - told me to stop pitying myself and own up to what I'd done. Feels like it took a long time. The more time passed, the more it was easier, though. I started in an auditorium with other souls, and now I'm drinking beers with him one or two times a week. He says I'm almost due for Ascension."
Three shrugged. "So what's stopping you?
- I've accepted everything I've done, but I can't... forgive myself just yet. Mind's still full of could'ves and should'ves, and I've got a hard time imagining how anyone like me could be worthy of Heaven."
Aidan looked to the labelled door. "What's Sheldon going to do, then?
- Recommend me for an extended stay, I guess," Feilong said, sighing, "but with a lighter load. Humility's not a problem anymore; I don't need a demon to boss me around to put my ego down a few pegs. They call it Recommended Self-Actualization, us souls call it Navel-Gazing. I'll just... live off of my Regrets until I manage to let go. More or less retire. This place barely feels like Purgatory at all, anyway. It feels... normal, like I haven't died at all."
Three seized the offered opportunity. "Do you think we could speak to Bob?
- I don't know, the Teachers have been on high alert since the Princes started sending folks through again. They're testing the barriers, sending minor demons to possess mortals; so the psychosocial aspects of his job were kind of dialed down until further notice. Now if he isn't sleeping late or drinking, he's training at the Council's armory."
Instead of being dejected by this, Three pursed his lips. "And you said Bob's a hardass, right? The kind of guy who gets heavy caseloads?
- Um, yes?" asked Zhang. "Why?"
Smirking, he looked back to Jenkins. "On the count of three, hit me square in the jaw and pin me to the floor. Leave me a little room to fight back; Meris needs to pitch in too. I'm about to throw the mother of all fits."