Chapter VI - Asunder

[IamLEAM1983]

Herbert did indeed do just that. "I understand that my opening statements weren't quite charitable towards our esteemed Mayor," he said, "but you understand the situation my peers and I find ourselves in. We've people of our own to care for, and are rightfully concerned for their well-being."

Allocer looked like Wormsworth's statement was a raft in the ocean, a flash of eagerness briefly lighting his eyes. "Of course, of course. We all have people on both sides of the fence and for this to proceed in an orderly fashion, a little discipline is required."

It was the mayor's turn to land a barb, directing it at Abyzou with a side-glance. "You've had enough goodwill to trust these proceedings to not act as a trap, so we should move along," he said, waving another foreman closer. The group soon had a hard hat for each of them, and started at a decent pace towards the middle of the bridge. As expected, part of it looked like an underground tunnel; cutting as it did through the massive mesa of black Brimstone that had risen from the riverbank. The new geological feature had already been hollowed out, with flickering lights visible in its gaping windows suggesting that turning a hollow stone into a habitable condo and apartment complex still took a lot of work even if you had Infernal magic to lean on. The other foremen looked a bit on the surly side, their employees looking more than a little unnerved by their boss' nature.

"My team and I did what we could to preserve the previous administration's groundwork," noted Allocer. "With the river's previous bridges destroyed, we had convenient anchor points ready to be re-purposed. It was all a matter of clearing debris, removing the massive rivets from the submerged concrete pillars, shoring them up with more mortar and a little magic, and then restarting from scratch. The current predicament enabled us to work off of the Karthians' zero-point energy suspension mechanism, effectively reducing the structure's weight, improving on its load-bearing capabilities as well as its overall efficiency."

Abigail nodded distractedly. "What about the channels we've discussed?"

Allocer grudgingly bowed his head. "We've begun working on our end of the proposed local summons network, but travel by LSN as your memos took to calling it, has several caveats. Shifting from one node to another might seem cost-effective, but it asks that a technician be present at all times to keep each circle running."

Abyzou shrugged. "If they're mortal, what's the issue? They're expendable."

The Pride Knight almost winced. "You'll find this avenue of questioning unwise, with guests like ours around," he said, pointedly looking back to Neasa and Herbert. The more this went on, the more Allocer looked like a consummate diplomat stuck handling the pie-in-the-sky whims of career sociopaths. Herbert coolly rested his glance on the spectacle of a few workers pouring a measure of concrete in the remaining gap, others consistently measuring the closing seam's level with lasers at every few feet.

"Mrs. Ziegler, you'll find that a populace does poorly when treated with contempt," he said. "Allocer might be focused on optimization and as such, is willing to pay lip service to your ordinances, but we of the resistance are under no such obligation. We do not react kindly when treated as expendable, to put it bluntly."

He eyed Neasa. "If this poor lass were not quite as amateurish, I might have taken offense at her barb," he told Neasa. "What about you? How do you feel about being called expendable?"

The question was mostly rhetorical, as he wanted to see how Abyzou would fare against a mortal who wouldn't simply take it with their head bowed. He didn't expect fisticuffs so much as a good dose of McConmara sass. It took a Pride demon, in a sense, to feel almost pained at the sight of another one missing the mark for basic tact and political acumen so completely...

* * *

George's own work was already done, but he stood by and watched as Rabbi Horowitz intoned prayers while inscribing the clay tablet with Hebrew script. The priest wasn't exactly a Kabbalist by trade, so his directed faith would feel a little wobbly to Aislinn, like a woozy sine wave of willpower directed at the tablet, flowing through him and disappearing somewhere in the Plane Above. It was solid, however, and while she wasn't Meris or a Throne, something to the long and painstakingly-memorized string of syllables that belonged to one of God's Names would strike her as being akin to something like a trans-planar Administrator password. It had the airs of a solemn request but the function of seemingly elevating Horowitz's privileges over inert matter for the exact purpose of the ritual, and for it alone. Somewhere outside of all that was, the Creator had probably been pinged by Their own system: a standard user account was attempting to perform something that required Their administrative privileges.

If Creation had been your bog-standard OS, then it'd be obvious that God had clicked on OK. Aislinn would feel Ephraim violently shudder from across the mixing bowl, the hairs on the backs of the rabbi's hands standing in place. Fear and elation washed over him as strangely directed power seemingly flowed through and out of him. The Shem soon hummed like a veritable power line, barely containing what looked like the tiniest expression of the powers of Creation. He passed the tablet on to Aislinn, its contained power making the roane's own hair stand up. If via had been radioactive, then everyone in the room would've been violently ill by then. Adding literally anything at all to this  compressed motherlode of an Animate-creating spell would undoubtedly strike the young Warlock as being a rare honor.

In the meantime, the modified concrete was poured inside the Halloween gargoyle's offered matrix, Levi and two other youths looking a bit shocked at the sight of the mix setting after one or two fat bubbles popped. Gammell nodded, and the plastic statue was flipped right-side up  and rested on its base. Then, carefully, using Exacto knives and a good dose of patience, the plastic was cut and peeled away. At the favor of half an arm being exposed, Levi ran a finger against the oddly light and smooth stonework.

"It doesn't really feel like stone," he said, blinking at Gammell. "It's coarse, yeah - but like fine sandpaper. It's warm, too." 

The toymaker nodded and smirked. "Try poking it," he said.

Levi did as instructed, the arm lightly twitching in response. The boy almost fell over out of sudden fright, which led Gammell to shake his head and chuckle.

"I fashioned some kind of stone brain for mister Biggs to inhabit," he said. "Connecting a nervous system to it only made sense. This armature isn't quite alive, but you could consider it as comatose until Alphonse's provided spirit animates it. Only the most base processes are running, as it stands."

The other boy froze for a moment and then sprang into action. "Then we should cut it free," he said, "it probably needs to breathe."

The gargoyle remained balanced on the stone it was perched on, stone and new flesh seemingly made of the same material. It swayed a little as its wings and head were cut free, the extra appendages slightly unfurling to maintain balance on their perch. It produced a shallow cough in a voice not too dissimilar from Al's, lazily spat out a gobbet of uncured concrete and then lightly snored. The gargoyle's wings and tail moved and twitched to keep the body stable on its perch, but it wasn't hard to see the thing was still devoid of life in the common sense. It was as Quint's body had been while waiting for Tom Magnus' animating mind. George's ministrations wouldn't amount to much without God's literal seal of approval, Aislinn's input, and Alphonse's provided consciousness.

* * *

Doherty looked at Nickar and then looked down on himself. "I can't go back, can I?" he asked, to nobody in particular. Isaacs, who had quietly followed along with various degrees of interest, parted with a cynical groan.

"Would you honestly go back to being mundane, if you could? It really does take a frightfully common man to think all the superhuman self-loathing in the world doesn't end at the thought of losing it all. If you'd paid attention to your gifted constituents, Your Honor, you'd know this already."

Three chose to go for a more encouraging approach. "Try wearing the suit, or suits," he said. "See if they fit. They obviously will - sorry, Nick - but I'm referring to how they feel. Not only that, but we're talking about a free professional fitting. When's the last time you had enough guts to unlock spending money in the quarterly budget for something like that?"

Doherty scoffed amusingly, which made him wince. "Heh - never. I never wanted to trot my police pension in front of Joe and Jane Average, so I stuck to the shopping mall."

Nickar rolled his eyes and entire head. "So splurge, for Lucifer's sake! Besides, this is Solomon's fortress! We're talking a trip to the oldest sauna this side of the Tigris with a pair of Seducer demons, some home-made soap and some sage oil smudging, and the kind of suit-fitting session that'll make Saville Row's tightwads look like sweatpants-wearing Chavs!"

Three couldn't quite repress a smirk. "What about the rest of us? We've got front lines to return to.
- Not before you go from scraps to the best of runway-worthy ballistic armor! Besides, Nybbas kept egging me on to remind Meris: she needs to take five in her own apartments, by the terrace gardens."

He looked back to the Archmage. "Your Nereus has been pushing proverbial buttons for the better part of two days, now - he's desperate to reach you. I think you should plop down on that seldom-used bed of yours for a few minutes."

Nickar then briefly stopped sizing Doherty up. "Oh, and uh - he didn't exactly sound desperate in the usual sense," he warned Meris. "More like he's been stupidly giddy. Naberius got a tip about Azorthagal suddenly gaining a motherlode of power, enough to start working on enough demon-directed viral payloads to seriously weigh Rhode Island's pro-Goat contingent down."

* * *

Leonard nodded. "Nosferatu Ops led the charge against Vlastos, before the incursion. Most mortals don't need convincing, but if we could investigate demon-to-demon instances of abuses of power and somehow collate them with research, we might convince the primary beneficiaries of the invasion that they're not on the Goat's list of chief concerns. Allocer himself is a good starting point, and I wouldn't be surprised if a chain of frustrated ambitions and broken promises climbed all the way back up to Washington. All we'd need is a few high-profile names, and many already want to see the Goat fail, even amongst those who haven't allied with us.
- How do we get these fellas to 'fess up?" asked Bucky.

The bathroom's inner fans stopped, the door opened and a partially-dressed Clank walked across the archway to his bedroom. Archie had everything on, safe for his shoes, morning jacket and hat. "Payola," he said, cutting in. "Amnesty as collaborators and immunity from all future trials to be led by the Vienna Council. A few names, a few bricks in the proverbial wall, and the entire structure would teeter."

[TennyoCeres84]

A sassy hand on her hip, Neasa sent the tactless demoness a cool, half-lidded side eye and sniffed. "Not particularly happy, to be honest. I don't know of too many people who want to be treated like trash, exceptions being what they are, but I'd say that's the way a majority of mortals feel, Ms. Ziegler," she said, briefly looking over at the workers.

"I'm sure you don't like being taken for granted for the work that you do or anything worse than that, so kindly extend the same courtesy to the workers here, hm?" she finished, lips curling into an icy smile with just the slightest peek of fangs.

***

Aislinn took the clay tablet and shuddered at the rush of power running through it. "Thanks, God," she breathed out with surprise in her voice. She then focused her intent and began etching her additions to the rabbi's tradition-laden words. Added strength and resilience would be placed into the ritual, but the sense that the new golem would be respected and valued for the duties it did and as as a living being, too.

The young Warlock then handed it back to the rabbi to continue on with the ritual.

***

"That seems like a good general plan," Miranda responded, observing the automaton. "Good to see you not looking so morose and you've got your game face on, Mr. Holden."

***

Meris quirked a brow at Nickar's news and smiled approvingly. "I'll have to do so and see what he's been up to the past few weeks," she admitted, turning and heading for the mentioned bedroom by the terrace gardens.

As for the fauness, Aspasia scoffed and said, "I thought I was lucky by managing to find armor from my old days, since it was the best armor that I knew of to fit my form. Seems I'm going to wonderfully showed otherwise."

The Throne nodded accommodatingly. "I'm not entirely sure if you would have anything for me, but I'd willingly take it," Abdiel noted. "Far be it from to say that Heaven has the best of everything, armor wise."

[IamLEAM1983]

"I'll keep it under advisement," noted Ziegler, her own smile humorless. "But, please - let's proceed on."

For the next few minutes, the details showcased had no importance in relation to the Freaks' planned tunnel. Herbert's gaze looked unconcerned as he swept it over the traffic watch booth and its control center, the rebuilt electrical shed behind one of the panels signalling the way back to Providence, and the aesthetic fluff added to the project by demons looking for an excuse to gloat, such as black swirls of Brimstone dust in the steel girders. Finally, the foreman led them to the undercarriage. There, more electrical sheds, connecting walkways and platforms stretched out across the river, wind-dampening sigils gently glowing in the masonry. Traversing an open chasm like this on foot wouldn't have been too difficult for any standard humanoid, but the wards were clearly intended for winged demons to be able to move about without being swept back by wind pushing under their appendages. Even with these safeties on, Herbert felt compelled to press his wings flat against his back, his knuckles turning white as he clenched the guardrail.

And there it was, in plain sight - the extra steel sleeve for cables that didn't exist. Slits of light from above shone through the steel rebar under the fresh concrete, making it clear that until the gap was closed, the entire ploy could've been discovered by any worker landing a fat enough gobbet of wet concrete on the sleeve's top for it to ring hollow. They were turning around when a shadow on one of the catwalks briefly gave Wormsworth pause. A seemingly genteel hand was placed on Neasa's back, as though to let her lead the way behind Allocer and Abyzou, but the selkie wouldn't miss the brief squeeze on her traps. It served as a mute question: had she seen it, too?

* * *

Tablet in hand, Ephraim switched back to English, stress causing him to make the last few stretches of the ritual a bit less formal than they could've been.

"Then, um... I, uh, baptize you in the Creator's name, Alphonse Biggs. I, um, wish we had a mikveh or something around, but the Hillard is miles away and all we've got is reclaimed water. Doesn't exactly count as natural."

A few people chuckled uneasily, Al then looking to George. "So do I just...?
- Yes. We'll animate it as soon as you're properly rooted in.
- It's sleeping. Will I wake up with it?"

Gammell scoffed, the sound evoking amusement and patience. "Yes, Alphonse. You'll wake up in full ownership of this body. This isn't a mere possession; this union is ratified by the Creator. If mister Magnus could be ousted from Quint's shell, you will not be subject to this. You would need a tremendous level of psychological and spiritual distress to lose your grip over this coil."

The ghost grunted. "Which is pretty much what happened to Ephesian... I'll just have to assume pot-bellied and pig-faced stone monsters aren't trendy with the fuckers, huh?"

Ephraim looked a bit shocked to hear someone swear, whereas the other faith leaders merely stood back, smirking. Expecting clean deliveries out of Weasel Biggs' mentor was a fruitless endeavor.

Sighing, the ghost cast one last glance at Weasel. "Here's to 'em, kid," he said, touching his flat cap's brim. The crimelord smiled at that. "You'll be the one buyin' rounds when this is over, old man."

He nodded and stepped in, the body briefly losing its balance. A loose cry left the gargoyle's mouth as one foot slipped. "Whoa - still kinda sticky..." slurred the quasi-Animate, its snores then turning deeper as the slipping foot re-assumed its position on the stone.

Then, taking the shem, Horowitz followed George's coaxing head nod and pushed the tablet against the gargoyle's chest, where the heart would be. There was some resistance, the skin and concrete below then giving out like wet oatmeal. Horowitz winced as some sort of suction force seemed to guide the tablet in position near the breastbone, taking his hands and arms along with it. Just as panic began to settle in, the gargoyle's fixed snarl disappeared, its eyes fluttered, and silvery discs with flecks of green-gold focused on him. The newborn being closed its hands around Horowitz' biceps and carefully pulled, soon lightly snarling again as it fought its constituting matter's surprisingly quicksand-like reaction. Still, Ephraim's wet fingers soon came out with a final set of popping noises, the surface of the gargoyle's chest returning to its sculpted and lightly sagging pectorals.

Carefully, Alphonse stepped off of his supporting stone, briefly losing his balance before the tip of one of his wings bit into the floor's concrete to support him. Regaining his balance, he looked on at his big three-fingered hands, each digit ending in a detailed talon. He, however, had six digits per foot, perhaps to be chalked up to the initial mold's cheap construction. He now had a fat brow and deeply in-set eyes, a skull that flared backwards, lined as it was with a few symmetrical mumps resembling tiny horns; a forked tongue and a decent set of fangs. Standing straight, the four-feet Halloween decoration seemingly unfolded to a decent six feet two, well-developed muscles easy to guess at, along the arms and back. He looked like a weightlifter gone flabby who hadn't quite abandoned the gym, something to the opposed gripping claws at the feet's heels and the shape of his calves suggesting he'd be able to gather a decent amount of torque while running.

"Um, hi," said Alphonse. "Guh' mahnang Ah gahss?" he started, then realizing he hadn't accounted for his new tongue. He winced slightly.

"Shit. Thith ith going to take a while to get uthed to..."

Weasel couldn't quite repress a set of pained chuckles, sobs not being too far behind. "Like I give a shit," he said, closing in, "it's just good to see you again!"

Alphonse hugged him back. "I mithed ya, thport..."

Weasel couldn't resist laughing even as he and the gargoyle shared a long and intense hug. As Alphonse had effectively raised the local don, his affection for the mustelid was fairly obvious. No dopey smiles caused by new tongues could diminish that.

In the meantime, George looked rather pleased with his and Aislinn's efforts. Visibly beaming despite his lack of formed eyes, he gave the roane a playful poke on the shoulder as he sidled closer. "First you animate a demon using Orcadian techniques, then adapt your own research to Rabbinical lore - I dare say you've turned into quite the natural, my dear," he told her. "Are you expecting to take a crack at Paradise's clones, next time, or perhaps Frank Herbert's gholas?"

Not that Aislinn had any chance of plying Herbert's fictitious cloning technique, as seen in the Dune series, however - for obvious reasons.

* * *

Holden made a slight moue as he returned, having just shucked his morning coat on. "Our losses still aggrieve me, truth be told. I wish you could ask Shamus, but my leaving India left me feeling the same way. I suppose I work best in leaps and bounds of optimism, with the cold depths of realism lying somewhere below... At least, I now know we have a way out."

Anjali nodded. "Triggering Allocer's sense of empathy's something we've charted out, but what about when he isn't? Empathetic, I mean. Don't forget he only acts like he cares because it fits his idea of a war being neatly resolved. People downtown will maybe get a decade or two of stability if he maintains appearances, but he'll crack as soon as he'll realize he's just another provincial ruler."

Leonard nodded. "That's a fair point. I have an idea, but it isn't the most subtle one."

Rendell shrugged gamely as he speared an egg Benedict onto a fork and placed it on his plate. "Let's hear it, then. We'll at least be able to appraise its feasibility."

The goat leaned in slightly. "We head back to the Pit in-body, using Tom's Gate, and steal back the Teacher demons' impounded weapons before Belial has them melted down. All we need is one sniper rifle or something close to it, and someone with a good aim.
- I volunteer, naturally," said Holden, as he sat back up to recover a large pot of coffee for the group. "I suspect the goal is to shoot Allocer with a concentrated dose of guilt, perhaps, or of his victims' sorrow. That should get him to care, at the very least. Having him work with us would fall back on our researching Pride's planned abuses of power."

Bucky shrugged. If we're shootin' demons fulla feelings, why just stop at the big cheese? Make the whole administration care, and you've got grounds enough for 'em doin' the right thing at some point - maybe even give the post back to Team Doherty."

Holden grunted. "If Aidan were here, he could explain to you how difficult it is to canvas enough sightlines for this kind of concerted assault. Six demons in the press room, six vantage points, six synchronized shots to avoid their having time enough to seek cover... It's a thing of beauty when it works, but it requires months of preparation. No - the rest can wait, Allocer should be our focus."

* * *

Nickar waved dismissively at Abdiel. "Leave that nonsense at the door; I can work with Angelic radiance. So long as the more aggressive ends of your power are not directed against those of my ilk in the moment, I can handle channeling your own power through a suit of armor with maybe an occasional twitch of discomfort. So long as you don't consciously shoulder the importance of your station while I'm taking measurements, I shouldn't have to, say, climb to the rafters while hissing like some illiterate feral from the wastes."

Three had to smirk at that. "I still remember our first meeting.
- Yes," sighed the tailor with a roll of his eyes, "I clung to your office's ceiling with no clothes on all because I was still on edge after spending some incalculable days fleeing Pride's advance. It wasn't my best moment - I have ferals in whatever amounts to family for me and, well, I just never understood the whole automatic-seething-hatred angle. I might hate you if you were a heinous dresser with enough influence to make runway nightmares catch on, but we've thankfully clawed our way out of the eighties and seventies with our hides intact and our wardrobes improved."

Solomon's apartments weren't quite as masculine as you would've expected, Naberius undoubtedly having a part to play in the antique space's subtle refinement. He hadn't changed much, with only draperies and the addition of a vanity suggesting the space was designed for a female monarch. The bed was large and covered with an orgy of pillows, proving to be quite comfortable as the mesa's babbling spring cooled the air and the green fronds of the garden gave sunlight an emerald sheen.

She'd wake up in the Darkhallow, in the same space she and Nereus called theirs. Neglect and despair had almost completely vacated the premises, the space now looking as though it had been hurriedly cleaned. You didn't have to look too hard to find dust spots, while the fridge's interior was still in need of a good scrubbing, but it was obvious that someone had given the act of cleaning up a repeated old college try. Obviously, she hadn't had the means to signal Nereus, so she'd emerged in the Darkhallow alone, in the immediate. It didn't take long, however, for the peculiar sight of Dalarath's rogue Augur to manifest up the road, his clothes slightly baggy and his belt and suspenders cinched tighter than they were in the real world. He ran up the street, wheezing and panting the whole way, even as his face seemed marked with some kind of all-consuming sense of elation. He grinned from ear to ear, very loudly wheezing as he tried to negotiate the porch's stairs as quickly as his remaining excess weight allowed. Being too impatient to bother with conjuring his set of house keys, he directed a lance of willpower at the pane and effectively used telekinetics to kick the front door open.

He'd lost weight, the blotches around his eyes were lessening, now being almost invisible - and his dark eyes gleamed with fierce joy.

"IT WORKED!" he roared, immediately tackle-hugging Meris, then parting from her to excitedly relay the news.

"It worked, Meris! I used the pills Azorthagal gave you, crushing them in Christopher's morning eggs. It started small, with his looking crankier than usual and my actually getting some decent sleep. He worked up a fever just as my appetite started to die down, I've only just started trading my excess carbs for more protein and now he barely eats. It's coffee and cigarettes now - and he's turning leaner; a little less well-defined around the waistline. He's complained of migraines and, well..."

He scoffed, shook his head and parted his hands. "The last time I slept this well, you were in my arms in the waking world," he said. "Total oblivion, not a single fit, not so much as a single pull down to the Darkhallow! The help told me I made a terrible amount of noise, but I don't care. Ever since three days ago, I've been waking up feeling refreshed every single morning. The worse the Chamberlain gets, the better I feel - and it's still ongoing!"

Nereus drew in a breath, briefly looking past his love and into the kitchen. "I'm hungry, Meris. Not for sweets or alcohol - I've had these constant cravings for lean meat, for milk and fish - and the bunker has a limited supply of those. The incursion's survivors in L.A. are giving me the lion's share of the rations and it feels like I could eat them all, as famished as I am around meals, now - but I can't. I've been returning every single MRE that's sent my way, that doesn't have my name on it - but all I can think of is our pots and pans, our kitchen, this place..."

He exhaled and pressed slightly closer, a hand lightly cupping her cheek. "For the first time in years, I have energy enough to spare to feel other kinds of hunger."

The Augur's gaze turned slightly pained. "God, I wish this were real.. What I'd give just to feel you, to have something other than the mere remembrance of comfort after waking up..."

Nereus closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers. "I know I've been given hope, but I don't want it," he said. "I want you."

[TennyoCeres84]

Discretion was key in the way she responded, and Neasa managed to isolate the trapezoid muscle with some focus. It twitched a few times in recognition of his silent question and served as a yes. What was that shadow? Was it one of the Freaks? A demon? she wondered. They couldn't sound the alarm to Allocer or Abyzou in case it was one of their friends and could only continue forward with Herbert.

***

Aislinn chuckled bashfully. "Thanks, but I'm not about to try mimicking something from sci-fi. I feel like I'm learning things even quicker than when I first started out, so this has been a rather humbling experience."

The roane looked over at the newborn golem. "How do you feel, Alphonse? Everything seem to be working?" she asked him.

***

"This would definitely be Mom's kind of mission, but when are you wanting to do this?" Miranda suggested in a slightly awkward teenager way.

***

Their closeness and his admissions stirred feelings and yearnings she hadn't felt for a while, and it left her to briefly contemplate a solution. "I want you, too, Nereus," she breathed, nuzzling his face with her own. She smiled, a blend of mischief and sensuality. Her voice dropped into a lower register, "I've been wanting to share some news with you, and I think I know of a way to show you and sate those urges until we can be with each other in person."

Meris leaned into kiss him and brought him closer into their embrace. He would sense a vague vibrating hum as the sensation of her lips and face somehow become more tactile, more real. Along with it followed the tastes and smells of her face, torso, and arms. Nereus would realize the slight hum was coming from his wife and that she had made herself mysteriously feel more concrete in their dream abode.

[IamLEAM1983]

Herbert managed a light shrug. He didn't know, obviously. All the same, Neasa would be able to sense the demon gathering his Pride, something to his countenance shifting as he prepared to release it in a shielding spell. The tour concluded, and more shadows stood out to Wormsworth and Neasa's attention as they climbed back up. Among the gathered members of the press was another black spot, its eyes two pinpricks of light. They widened upon seeing Herbert's utter lack of surprise. He removed his hard hat, handed it to one of the foremen and stepped forward.

"Can I safely assume you were not briefed about our friends, Mister Mayor?" he asked. Allocer searched the crowd, not seeing what Herbert was referring to. The lawyer sighed and extended a beckoning hand, along with a fair dose of his own Eldritch ego.

"You," he said, commanding the infiltrator, "come forward now."

The shadowy creature struggled as if it was being pulled along, his feet obeying commands it hadn't issued. Midway across, the humanoid clump of shadows screeched in a language Neasa wouldn't understand. By the look of things, neither did Allocer and Abyzou. Herbert, on the other hand, sneered.

"Pride's new herald?" he asked, as if repeating a statement in the form of a question. "How could I be such a thing? I've left Pride behind, if anything, and have been trying to grease open my Ego's previously-sealed doors!"

More screeches. "Maybe that superb allure you speak of should be excised, Fiend. Mortalkind has no need of external demons, it already carries its own weaknesses and secrets. I'd almost rather the word demon referred to those of us who choose to counsel mortals, rather than torment them. Angels can lord it over them if they so wish, we've already made this mistake."

Then, in heavily-accented English, the creature screamed "KILL YOU ALL!". The other shadows sprang out of their holes, literally roiling expanses of darkness shaped like chitin-covered limbs. With one flap of his wings, Herbert turned a short backwards hop into a glide that carried him back closer to the group, and then worked his shoulders and back into a bold and self-assertive pose. That seemingly acted as a trigger of sorts, machinegun-like lancets of Hellfire singing as they impacted the purplish curve of his deployed shield.

"WHAT IS THIS, ABYZOU?!" shouted Allocer, as fire roiled in his mouth's expanse, supernatural lava threatening to boil over and onto his suit's lapels.

Ziegler pulled out a gun on Neasa. "I'm ending what you've proven too weak to handle."

Herbert tsked maliciously. "I wouldn't have pulled a gun on this particular selkie, Madam Representative..."

* * *

"That you've remained humble does you credit," noted George. "That said, I have enjoyed seeing the ways in which Tom has left you feelingly seemingly more self-assured. It must be some of the old Warlock swagger rubbing off."

Still, he took his attention back to Alphonse, who parted from Weasel and self-consciously glanced down. A hesitant head nod suggested he was working a sentence together with more conscious control than he was used to, working his mind around his tongue's shape in order to mitigate his earlier slurs.

"Everything feels... fine," he said, his tone cautious and hesitant, "'I'm just... taller than I was before. Taller and naked."

That made George chuckle and come forward to place a hand on the gargoyle's arm. "We'll have Meris or Lucian weave something for you as soon as they come back."

The elder Biggs nodded again. "I can... feel the basement air. I'm cold, but not as cold as I'd be if I were... human.
- The water re-claimers and hydroponic gardens are through here," pointed George. "It indeed is a little nippy, down here. You'll feel better once we get you topside and into some clothes. That and, well, your skin is brand new."

The golem drew in a lightly shuddering breath. "I remember a case of road rash, back in '57... Bad car crash, scraped my upper right forearm down to the muscle on two inches. Skin grew back, but that patch of skin could always tell whenever pressure would change or when temps would... shift. It's like most of me wants to shiver, but it's just not cold enough to trigger it, yet."

He looked at one of his hands and scoffed, his normal speech patterns almost re-established. "First shower's gonna be a bitch, for sure."

* * *

Archie was about to answer when both his and Rendell's phones chimed. Both men moved, the T-Rex noticing it and going for a falsely theatrical gasp. "You too?!" he asked, which made Holden roll his eyes.

"Any good spymaster knows to keep a network," noted the Clank, "from Hadrian to Sherlock Holmes. If I didn't have other pairs of eyes out on the town, I wouldn't be able to afford fits of crushing despair.
- Or I, complete genetic reconfiguration," added Gregory. "I wager a mimosa that it involves one of your people. Game?"

Holden rolled his eyes and checked his smartphone. "Shots fired on New Hillard Bridge - no casualties or injured as of yet, it looks like Herbert's popped a bubble."

Leonard moved as if to sit up. "Any sightlines around the bridge?

"None that aren't mediocre," noted the Clank. "Besides, we've still firearms to claim, and it involves Neasa, Allocer and Wormsworth. They can hold out or even solve this issue while we work on our end of things."

* * *

Nickar led the group back into the factory. From there, Solomon's fortress opened out into another impossible room - an interior courtyard lined with Persian statues that all strangely shimmered with golden whorls of energy, the central plaza rounded by modern folding tables and a wide gamut of firearms and swords. Nickar stood in place, shimmered for a moment, and then seemingly broke off into two. One of him gripped Doherty by his jacket's sleeve. "Come on, Super Odobenus, let's get you out of that sack and into something that'll actually engender respect. "Ladies, gentlemen - I'm leaving you with Other Nick."

Doherty blinked. "But you're-
- Ubiquitous? One of the rare perks that come with your great-granddad deciding to steal a few tricks out of God's own toolset, before defecting. Brutes might use it to overwhelm their enemies, I'd rather lead mortal dullards to their fitting stations while still having time left to outfit the actually-competent folks in here... Now hop to it, we've choices to make!"

He looked back to Three. "I might prick him a few times. That shouldn't be an issue, I trust?
- Based on what happened with him when he turned, you'll have a hard time drawing blood."

Other Nick clicked his tongue. "Goody! The sooner we're done, the sooner I can go back to planning the sartorial aspects of the next crisis. I don't know which one, Vassago tells me there's far too many fires to put out lying ahead in the time-stream, and he can't tell me which ones will actually need putting-out. Long story short, I'm pulling my hairs out. If I were Calvin Klein, I'd already have sold my brand to Costco and thrown in the towel."

* * *

Shock and delight fought for space on Nereus' features. He briefly pushed her away.

"What is this?!" he asked, on the the tone of someone who very clearly enjoyed whatever it was that Meris had wrought. He didn't let her answer, however, and leaned in again. If there was tenderness in his gestures, it seemed to serve as the core of a rising tide of sheer need, which made his gestures appreciably rough. All the while staying well south of anything resembling physical harm, hunger coarsened his gestures. He lifted her, too carried away to use his abilities to help himself, and groaned with effort. Carrying her while kissing her, he hurried along to the couch where hands and tentacles alike explored her facial features, and then alighted on her neck and covered it in a thousand pecks.

Centuries without her. Centuries without love - and now, hope. Now, her. If Meris had been a spring, Nereus was a thirsting traveler greedily dipping his mouth, chin and nose in the cool. He drank from her deeply and with more gratitude than the Archmage would've experienced in years, his hands feverishly working to return the favor. His big eyes gleamed once hunger had partially died down and opened the way for affection. They'd been joined by now, half-conscious gestures pushing fabric and linen away, allowing for more flesh to touch.

"I love you," he breathed, repeating the three words like a mantra, soon unconsciously marking every second beat of their slow undulations. He might've been seated, his large hips did what they could and further sealed the embrace. They'd crested the first hill and slowed down, denied themselves release for the sake of making this last a while longer, that he panted noisily and bore his eyes into her.

"I saw Him," he said, "in a dream. The Architect. He said... He said I wasn't to be... his Speaker. He wants me to build, instead. Said he'd give me tools... when the time would be right."

He panted. "I... took a risk. He told me I needed to be set right - prepared for the tools. It's leaving me, Meris. Amaxi hasn't noticed yet, but it's leaving me."

Marinos' smile was wide as he picked up speed again. "I'm forgetting the Black Speech, Meris. I can't - I can't remember sixty transitive... verbs anymore; lost my hold over flesh and earth. Tense structure feels flaky, I'm sensing its madness the way a surface-dweller would. Speaking it is like walking on eggshells..."

He shuddered. "I'm almost free, Meris. Almost free!"

[TennyoCeres84]

Neasa wasted no time in rushing Abyzou and delivering a booted foot to her stomach. Simultaneously, the gun was then ceremoniously yanked from her, with the safety activated, and secured in her belt for the time being. She quickly grabbed the frosty demoness by the neck with a vice grip and squeezed hard enough to crack and shatter her neck bones, then dropping her body. "Sorry, bitch, you're as expendable as you thought I was. I'm sure someone will be in to replace you in a week or less," she seethed.

She hurried over to Herbert and pulled out the gun she had wrested from the assistant. "Any plans? And do you think these things are the ones from the reports?!" she asked.

***

Aislinn scurried over to one of the storage areas in the space and pulled out a blanket. "This'll have to do for now, and at least it'll warm you a bit," she said, draping the woolen fabric over him like a cloak.

***

Abdiel and Aspasia followed after the Other Nickar. "How's this fitting going to outclass the ones we've known?" the fauness inquired casually.

***

"Should I help? Mom and Dad wouldn't exactly be happy, but..." Miranda asked in a slightly awkward teenager way. "Also, back to what we were talking about, when are you wanting to deal with Allocer?"

***

His attentions fulfilled a need she had almost forgotten about. Given that it had been centuries, she did her best to let me feel every ounce of her and reciprocated wholly. If she was the spring that he drank from, he was the tide that washed in and around her. He was soothing and invigorating at the same time, pushing her to further heights.

"I'm so happy for you!" Meris gasped as she kissed him another time. "I met the Architect, too... and learned a lot. It was the start of what let me do this!" She kept pace with him and peered into his eyes. "I-I know why I took so readily...to your teachings, when I was younger."

She gently stroked his tentacles with her webbed fingers. "It wasn't a seizure or an aneurysm that let me understand the language."

"A very long time ago, I was a female Voidweaver named Merath, the only one the Architect made," the Queen panted out. "I taught your earliest ancestors. I essentially was their mother."

[IamLEAM1983]

"They could very well be!" shouted back Herbert over the din, only for Allocer to fall in place at their backs with a frustrated grunt. "What did you do?!" he seethed. "Now any chance at dialog was destroyed; the administration won't ever let me negotiate peace talks on the long-term, with an official dead!"

The former Knight shook his head. "We survive this first, and then I'll see about not getting you riddled with bullets," he groused.

Herbert seemed surprised. "You're more reasonable than I was led to believe, sir.
- Chaos does neither of us any favors," snapped back the bigger Pride demon, "it's the one lesson Valefor's never learned! I'm afraid I might have exceeded his patience with my approach towards the mortals!"

He flashed a look at Wormsworth. "Any combat experience?
- I'm a former attorney and mediator for Cacus & Bune; I certainly hope not! My best bet was always to get a chance to airlift Neasa out of here!"

Allocer shook his head. "You'd think the mortals would be the ones with an endless supply of greenhorns... Alright; on three, you'll push this bubble of yours as far outwards as you can, as quickly as you can, for exactly one second! We've got limbs and necks to break and fighting space to regain! Once that's done, you both stick to my six while I breathe us out a perimeter! I'll maybe burn one or two, force them to become tangible! McConmara; you're the one with the gun! Headshots or bust, you hear me?! We finish the rest with brute force!"

* * *

"Thanks, kiddo," groused the gargoyle, as he tried his best to huddle his shoulders inside the blanket. "So, what needs doing in the immediate?"

George grunted slightly. "We'd addressed the matter of the Tree's flow of via being cut off in areas crucial to the resistance - Renton, in particular. If the Pitspawn are attempting to establish an advance fort, then the issue needs to be resolved and the ley line, reopened.
- We made this golem to protect the tower," immediately opposed Ephraim, "he can't just take off and-"

Alphonse's tail swished. "This golem's got a name, pal - and a brain that's worth a damn, last I was told. If the local practitioners can't mount a defense, then all the fancy animated stone in the world won't do you squat. I don't mean no disrespect to any of you gentlemen o' the faith, but where I came from, we didn't wait for angels to save the day and we didn't just lump our problems onto a single solution."

He glared at Ephraim. "So yes - if I wanna take off and help, I'll take off and help. That's what you gave me this body for."

Biggs senior then looked back to his grandson. "How are we on the guns front, sport?"

Weasel looked a bit surprised. "Guns? You've got claws and wings solid enough to break someone's neck with a slap-
- One thing at a time, alright? That's all new to me. If I wanna act now, I need to start with what's familiar. I've been a triggerman, triggermen don't just forget their guns. I'll need guys from the family, too - folks who can take orders in these circumstances. I'm not taking to Robertson's neck of the woods alone, that much's for sure."

Father Parsons adjusted his glasses. "What if it were something else? What if it wasn't a pack of demons blocking off the ley line?"

Alphonse sniffed and walked off, towards the elevator. "Then whatever it is, it'll get pop-quizzed on basic tactics. Siphoning one group's defenses to bolster another's just not something that's done, period."

* * *

Nickar's eyes slid towards Aspasia. "Your former boss is Gregory Rendell. British or Italian custom suits and blazers, silk neckties, pinkie rings - so on and so forth. He might think he's getting the best money can buy, but he's too much of a species-focused clod to realize the best tailors prior to this shit-show were along the west end of Saville Row, in the cheaper ends. Why is that?" he asked, raising a finger as he led the group to the first table. "I'll tell you why: goblin fingers. They'll Cockney Rhyming Slang you dizzy, they've got enough male or female jewelry to throw Sunday-night astronomers for a loop, they wear their credit card debts like they're things to be proud of - and they're micron-sharp when it comes to fittings. The only way you could get anything just as tailored would be if you let some kind of body-scanning machine assemble you a suit from scratch after taking your measurements by laser. Goblins are eager to work, they flaunt their skills and that isolates them from the old and stylistically conservative fogeys that dress up the King and Queen's Clanks - and they'll fall for anyone who so much as affects wealth or success. With that in mind, I didn't have much trouble creatively re-hiring some of Belial's earlier employees. A few centuries of work, supervised outings into the mortal plane, and I more or less stripped the feral nonsense out of them, brought them back to their own fairy hands and keen eyes."

They stopped at the table. "So! For Madame Abdiel, we're talking copper-plated leather bustieres with an under-layer of thermo-formed Paradise synthetic silk for the limbs, neck and throat, the whole of it previously left soaking in the big G.D.'s light for six mortal days. If the chest covering is removed, it'd work in a pinch for a soirée. Below the waist, slack-style leather pants for ease of movement, lined with moisture-absorbant and hand-washable material to keep pesky rivulets of blood from pooling down into your boots. Between each layer is a network of carbon and copper microtubules designed to act as heat sinks, to give you that tiniest extra pinch of precision when unloading several thousand degrees Kelvin of pain in your enemies' general direction. If worst comes to worst and Bleatbutt renders you mortal using one of the Celestial Burdens, the same tubules are designed to keep that exuded heat to levels that'll merely burn you, as opposed to kill you. I tried shooting for partial invulnerability, but Angelic mojo isn't exactly my forte."

He then looked back to the Fauness. "Valefor might leverage one of your great-granddads in the near future, so I thought we'd go oldschool... For you, I've got ward-inscribed Lycra, with hand, wrist, shin and ankle guards out of hard thermo-formed leather. I've thrown in some adhesive insoles for your hooves, for that added bit of traction, as well as a soft pouch against your dominant hip, depending on your firing hand, to act as a quiver. Back quivers are for Hollywood chumps, you'll get the real deal, revised for the modern days. Obviously, tactical webbing factors in, seeing as you likely won't be abandoning firearms anytime soon. Still, I think your kyudo-practicing self will think Hellfauna does have a few uses..."

He handed Aspasia one of the two tips of what looked like a black string-less bow, the word PROTOTYPE inscribed on it. "There's a certain kind of, well, let's call it a mutant birch tree, that grows in a large valley, west of the Goat's collapsed fortress. Planar mergers involve cross-pollination on both sides of the portal, so we're starting to see instances of Terrestrial life adapting to Hell. A little research showed me this normally white essence grows black, and has a surprising amount of flex and give. Imagine a bow made out of wood that stays alive and green, and you'll get a sense of it. Carbon fibre bow shafts, in comparison, are most definitely for chumps. You might have to learn to compensate, however - I guarantee this'll be the lightest bow you'll have ever carried. It's a Western longbow, of course, in the style carried by your ancestors."

He stopped for a moment, mostly to see if anyone had questions.

* * *

Archie daintily speared a few fruits off of his elected salad assembly and munched on them for a few seconds. "I wouldn't be comfortable sending a child out on the front lines, and your having been with us since the city's capitulation suggests we couldn't simply elect you as our inside man," he said. "All the same, teenage Fauns could strike Allocer's cabinet and staff as being harmless..."

Leonard shrugged. "I'll visit City Hall with Miranda. I can ask two of my clients to offer us their mortal forms as Veils. We'll be able to canvas the staff, point out targets and points of interest, and perhaps find out when Allocer is at his most exposed, on any given weekday. Of course, the current events on the bridge might shake things up, but it'll have the merit of making the essential staff members easier to pick out."

Archie grunted thoughtfully. "Then all that would be required would be a dash of rehearsal and timing, and we could give the current administration a crash course in Ethics via Teacher weaponry...
- Which we don't have," reminded Bucky. "So no matter what we've got in store, we gotta start with that. We don't have full numbers for a raid like last time, so what are our options?"

Leonard closed his eyes and slowly worked his neck, even as the greenish wisps of the Shadowlands' energies rose off of him. His ashen fur turned back to white, his clothes followed along and returned to his former standards - even as cancerous blotches appeared under his fur, distorting its pattern. In short order, they had before them a duplicate of the Black Goat's stolen body in its corrupted state.

"We try for stealth," said Ephesian, evoking the Goat's more honeyed and self-absorbed tone. "I've conquered Hope and am choosing to deliver you all personally to the fortress closest to the Spire you stole from me - all the better to add insult to injury."

After a fittingly gooey smile, the actual lawyer's more bitter tones returned. "Stationed Pitspawn that haven't left the Pit have no idea what's going on. That gives us an entire outpost's worth of grunts to fool."

* * *

Nereus' resulting gasp was short and explosive, as much a result of mounting desire as it was of emotions cresting a hill. "That is... That's..."

He briefly leaned back against the couch and buried his hands in her hair, head craned away as tension rose. "Then... everything that was ever sold to my people as being a lie was true. We had our origin, our purpose. Our... destiny."

Pressing back against her, he rested his chin against her shoulder. "Everything is as it should be," he murmured. "Against all odds... we stand here, together."

He kissed her fully one last time, turning the gesture into a groan as release came. As he did so, however, his features seemed to gently warp. Flatter and more powerful muscles seemingly added more volume to his previously diminished paunch, while his soft-bodied flesh seemed to grow slightly more firm. Weight and tone alike were obtained, even as his neck became slightly more visible and his cheekbones, more apparent. This was Nereus as he'd once appeared here all those centuries ago, the same features his figment of resolve had displayed in the hidden chamber below. He might not have been made whole in ability or arcane confidence and was still quite weak in actuality, with the Black Speech unraveling away from his mind - but his psychological state had seemingly been restored.

"A few weeks," he said, cupping her face, "and I'll be beside you in the flesh. Most of the bunker's guards obey me to the letter, and Chambers is bound to end up bedridden soon, at this rate. I'll take a risk and call on the Gentlemen in person, ask for their best numbers to mount an offensive against us. Their own Words could slow my heart or render me unconscious or maybe stabilize a life-threatening injury long enough for me to be air-lifted to Walpurgis safely. From there, all I need is an unmarked shuttle to Hope - and I'll be with you - forever, this time."

He kissed her again. "You, me, Rothchild, Delmar, the Sammaelites and the angels - we'll end this. Together. We'll raise New Dalarath off of Green Island's coastline, trap the Goat's loyalists against the shoreline and force them to face the tsunami. Order and Nature alike will direct their wrath towards these interlopers - and we'll have peace again. Amaxi's own followers will take notice - the Architect's told me he'll teach them the meaning of fear, beat them back into darkness long enough for us to heal."

[TennyoCeres84]

Neasa readied her gun and quietly exhaled to steady herself, waiting for Allocer's signal.

***

Aislinn pursed her lips with concern as she followed along. "We don't know what we're dealing with, so having backup firepower would be good. We could be dealing with the things from the reports," she noted.

***

Aspasia lifted the stringless bow and widened her eyes at its lightness. She practiced her aim by envisioning pulling it back and seeing where it might hit. "This is perfect. I have some sense of how my ancestors fought with light armor and weapons, and this'll definitely do the job."

"I might have to bolster my body's resilience a bit to aid the armor. The Goat may very try to take us out, and I would rather that not happen. How well might it react to that?" she asked.

***

Miranda frowned. "How do I make myself believable? I don't exactly scream cowering mortal,"she commented.

***
The rush of pleasure eased her into a gentle afterglow. "I have seen a vision like this from the Architect, but I also received information that seems like it will complicate the conflict. I am concerned about my grandchildren and how what I have seen will affect them," she admitted, snuggling up to him.

[IamLEAM1983]

The mayor waited a few breaths. Then, at the favor of one of the shadowed Hellions raising a hand to strike, shouted "NOW!" at the top of his lungs. Herbert's expanding barrier knocked them back and managed to kill a few, Allocer not wasting a single second in craning his head and chest back. As Paimon had done in the core group's raid against Pride, he breathed out a plume of Hellfire that he quickly directed into a ring. A few more rushed in and were singed enough for their smoky appearance to be traded for the solidity of flesh, Allocer trying to time his movements so that by the time he'd have passed over an area, Neasa would have time enough to aim and shoot.

Beyond the ring, terrified attendees of the bridging ceremony gasped out of either fear or dismay. "What are you doing, Allocer?!" screamed one of the city-aligned demons. "Crush them, they're right beside you! Crush them now!"

He stopped, gasped, drew in a breath and waited for any who'd try to rush in. "This isn't the way!" he shouted back. "We can't engender stability if we ransack this plane like barbarians!
- Then fight with us!" shot Herbert back. "You know we care for this place as much as you do!
- I can't," replied the mayor, "I was ordered to consecrate this city in Pride's name! I have to free the Nexus from the insurgents - for your own good!
- We fight for our own good, Allocer!" he shot back. "Yours, as well! Magnus' proposed solution can work, over a dozen demons are peacefully co-existing with us in the tower, myself included!
- And you trust an addled incubus' word more than a former Knight Commander? We're both of Pride, Wormsworth - you know I'm right!"

Herbert gritted his teeth. "Survive now, debate later! We have to land a finishing blow, or they'll never stop coming! Their main portal seems to be in the press team's rear, near the first of the parked cars!"

Allocer was silent for a few instants and then flashed a quick, if crafty grin at Neasa. "Ever tried gymnastics, McConmara? I give you momentum, you crush the floor out from underneath the portal's base! Wormsworth, you'll angle her properly!"

Herbert fixed his gaze on a point above the small mob that was encircling them, and then nodded. "If I fly into position, you'll no longer be shielded! You'll have a few seconds at the most!
- We'll be fine," replied Allocer, "you've both upheld your end of the bargain, as far as I'm concerned! You weren't the ones to break the peace - Valefor played his first hand! I don't have quarrel with either of you today!"

Herbert looked a bit surprised, Allocer stopping to clothesline a rushing demon with an arm and to crush its head with a foot. "Ask yourself," he said, "why am I here? I'm here because my Knights proved too honorable for the Goat to employ as enforcers after the war! You were defeated - my men and I don't stomp on those who've had their fighting chance, and we protect their right to recovery!"

Another goon rushed in and was also dispatched. "Our opinions might differ, but Neasa's safer with me than with most other Pitspawn out there! We'll do fine - now get into position, Wormsworth!"

* * *

Alphonse stopped about halfway to the elevator. "Which is why I'm headin' this way. Come on, you two, we've got a team to put together!"

Once in the shaft, he cinched the blanket around his waist and sniffed, stopping himself short of adjusting a flat cap that wasn't there. That made him lightly grunt and shift his weight around a bit. "Okay, so, the Commission is toast," he said. "The dons are all still with us, but it's hard to call it a conference if you're just six Joeys, one Finman and a bunch of Micks. Most took to the chaos for a chance to carve out their little empires, 'specially the Latino and Black gangs that acted as chapter houses for the bloodier ends of the West coast's turf. Crips, Bloods, the Altamira gang, FS35... We've got some good people from all ethnicities, true, but indoctrination's hard to break if mayhem gives you a chance to fall back down bad patterns.

He eyed Aislinn. "Our first stop is the makeshift chapel on the sixth level. I need to grab a printed icon - the Virgin Mary. The Orthodox guys always keep a few dozen sets on card stock; it's always been the Biggs don's calling card when calling for a meetup through common channels is out of the question-"

As he was speaking, however, the soft Muzak in the cabin's speakers was interrupted by a squawk as Helena, having been posted as the helipad's lookout and the tower's air traffic coordinator, chimed in.

"This is Rivas - Dutchman and shuttle Marcus Garvey are coming in hot. They post a need for extensive repairs and Sam's lost six portside cannons. Nergal is onboard. I repeat - Nergal is onboard. Need a reception party up here STAT, the 'zessed-up Air Force needs a welcoming bee!"

That made Al hit the cabin's emergency brakes and then change its destination from the sixth floor to the roof. George raised an eyebrow at this. "I assume this isn't entirely altruistic of you."

Al shot a grin at the Animate. "You're wrong. We fight for our own, and seeing how close Weasel's been over the past few weeks, I'd be ashamed if I didn't call Shield blood. Guns're nice and all, but they're not just being delivered for lil' ol' me. I might need them for Renton, but you'll also need some if this point-defense rigmarole lasts any longer."

* * *

Nickar stuck a thumb in his vest's small front pocket, a vestige probably intended for a fob watch. "It'll take small-arms fire without breaking a sweat, but you'll need to pace yourself on the front lines, find enough cover for the kinetic wards to recharge every once in a while. Currently, the charging process only happens when you're out of combat, so you'll have a lull of about ten to fifteen seconds to contend with. I added small tubules of Brimstone gas to the right forearm, to give you something to visually meter the charging process."

He handed Aspasia the corresponding bracer and pointed out its tiny window on the wrist's inner side, along with its being marked in four segments of equal length. "If you've played any video game, this won't be a surprise to you. The full bar's green and means you can take some punishment. Yellow after two lines means you've got less of a tolerance for ablative force and need to be a bit more cautious. When you're down to one segment and it's flashing red, find cover and wait for the wards to recharge."

* * *

Ephesian dismissed the Goat's appearance, its details ebbing away like sand poured downstream. He turned an appraising look towards Miranda and then briefly half-lidded his eyes. "Yes," he said, muttering to no-one in particular, "you'll do just fine, thank you."

He'd no sooner said this that air shimmered behind him as the Shadowlands' barrier became more frail, a hissing noise akin to building steam rising as more greenish plumes formed beside the attorney. An animated glass sculpture of a girl who looked like Miranda's long-lost human sister appeared into view, her eyes wide with supernatural torment, her jaw clenched with rage.

"Deceive them," she demanded, eyes set on the girl. "Expose them. Burn them out of Hope. They took everything from me."

Rage looked like it would overpower the ghost, but she closed her eyes, glanced off to Leonard and marshaled herself. Only then did she look back to Miranda. "I'll help you," she said. "They'll only see me - not you. You're the one who's going to have to make me look weak."

Leonard looked like the girl's choice of words had struck him as being graceless. "What she means," he told Miranda, "is that her nature makes it difficult to present things like doubt or frailty."

He looked back at her. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

The ghost's eyes narrowed. "K... Something with a K. I'm - not sure. Keh- Kel..."

She paused and looked up. "Kelsey. My name's Kelsey. I just - Why couldn't I remember? Is that something else they took from me?
- And where is your haunt, Kelsey?
- Home," she answered. "Sixth and Greene. I remember the apartment shaking, the ceiling's plaster falling off in big chunks. Everything listed to the right, I saw my mother disappear in the floorboards - then it was all black. I couldn't move, everything hurt - then everything was cold. Everything except for Mister Ephesian. He's so angry all the time, it feels like a bonfire. Some of the ghosts around him don't so much as remember what it's like to be human - but his anger calms them. It calms me, too. I know I'm not the only one who was hurt by... demons."

Archie seemed surprised. "You haven't particularly seemed angry to be as of late, old boy," he observed. "Am I being a poor judge of character again?"

Leonard shook his head with a scoff. "Yes, and no. You just haven't earned my wrath, Archibald. You, Shield - you're the last ones I'd consider to be at fault, here. I am angry and I derive power from my wanting to bring the Goat to justice, but any junior lawyer could tell you some feelings shouldn't be brought to the forefront. I like my rage cold and calculated, which is why I anticipate Valefor might eventually try and reel me in. He'll be sorely disappointed. The last I spoke to Thomas, he compared me to Shang Tsung, from Mortal Kombat. The difference is I don't keep all these souls penned in - they're with me because they share my goals, consciously or otherwise."

He then looked back to Miranda. "You'll look like Kelsey, and I'll find a man in his mid-sixties in my client base, for sure. She'll let you wear the marks of her suffering, and it'll be your job to seem demure enough to make it work. Once we're past City Hall's lobby, you'll be free to look a little less afflicted. If the coast is clear, Kelsey might even let you go."

Archie gave the ghost a long look. "When will you release these souls, Leonard?
- The question you should be asking is When will these souls consider my services rendered," opposed the ungulate. "As to when that will happen, I suspect I'll only feel some of my burden be lifted once the Prince of Pride is behind bars. That said, the abilities I took while in the Spire make me feel the cries for help of all those the Pitspawn harmed. Pride goeth, but I'll still have a legion to attend to."

"That would be a nice callsign," observed Rendell. "Legion, I mean."

Leonard smirked and opened his mouth, the voices of about ten or twelve people speaking in unison leaving his throat. "Don't tempt us," they said, some voices affecting amusement and others suggesting an honest threat.

* * *

"What did you see?" asked Nereus, as he gently shifted both himself and Meris so they'd be able to lie down on the couch. He didn't push and didn't let his obvious concern get in the way of Meris clarifying things for him. For now, the fingers of one hand and two tentacles gently pushed their way down to Meris' scalp, scratching the same old spot he'd used to scratch while in bed, during happier times. Judging by his look, empathy made him assume the worst, as sadness slipped through his concerned expression. His almost phocine eyes tended to make the gentler ends of the emotional spectrum feel rather striking, as if he acutely felt her own sorrow without having so much as grasped it on a conscious level.

[TennyoCeres84]

"We don't have any more time for banter; this needs to be done now!" Neasa urged.

She looked over at Wormsworth. "I'll trust him for now, Herbert! Just help launch me in the portal's direction, and I'll shatter that floor to bits!"

***

"Glad to have you on as extended family, Alphonse!" Aislinn oddly chirped. "Once we reach the roof, we're going to need to act fast! Get people in and get the repair crews on to their jobs!"

***

Miranda gently eyed the young ghost. "I can act demure enough. Mom taught me well," she said reassuringly to Kelsey.

She also smiled a bit meanly. "Hey, who knows? Maybe it'll come in handy for Bleatbutt," she partially joked.

***

"Firstly, it's more of something that the Architect told me than showed me. He told me Ciaran will end up killing Sophia out of mercy or love, probably because she'll be mortally wounded. The lad adores Sophia, and I sense that Sophia considers him to be her beloved knight and messenger. Dryads and naiads are careful who they show love to, for good reason, so her love is of equal amount," Meris explained, gently squeezing his hand.

"Another factor of concern is that the Goat appeared while I was speaking with the Architect. It seems Akoman aided him in hacking into His sacred space. The Architect banished him and patched the issue, but that concerns me. What else might the Goat have up his sleeve we don't know about? He's already depicting us as insurgents, and he could use Sophia's murder to justify even further persecution against us," she added.

***

Aspasia studied the bracer, as she was taking the information and logging it for later. "That should be easy to remember; thank you," she replied. "If Azazel does show up, it'll be a matter of surviving and just being able to get through to him."