Chapter VI - Asunder

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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

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Aspasia sighed lightly as Three reported on what happened with Volker. "Sadism towards those he thinks deserve it is probably his turn-on, at least under the circlet's influence. He might make quick work of them, so he should be okay for now. As much as I hate to say this, but that works to our advantage. We'll check on him soon enough," she addressed.

She ventured closer to the indoor fountain. "As for you two, you need rest and food before heading back out there," she stated as she began to haul the large Clank out of it. The fauness grunted as she shifted his weight to support his heavy weight. Drake would obviously be able to tell she was assuming that odd blend of den mother and commander and wouldn't likely allow for rebuttal from him. Despite being a foot shorter than Shamus, she did a respectable job at moving him inside. Given that the human was still capable of walking, she gestured for him to follow her.

Next came her form of multi-tasking. She fetched out a Swiss Army knife from her armor and began opening cans off of the shelves. "Sorry this isn't one of The Last Round's specialties, Wallace, but you got to get some fuel in you," she said.

As for the human, she pulled up a chair for him and began inspecting his wounds and applying some medigel. She pushed a bottle of water into his hands. "Sip some water. I can tell you're dehydrated."

***

Matriel sighed as they considered their prospects for Azazel. "His curse is proximity-based. If we could work around that, we could still help him. I'd be one of the less likely ones to be affected immediately. In the long run, it'd be to our advantage to get him some actual help," he mused.

A spark of recollection made him raise his brows. "There is someone who would be suitable to talk to him and provide a listening ear. Valefor pointed her out before the incursions began."

The werewolf knitted her brown together as she recalled who he was referring to. "I think you mean Aspasia? She's not here, and we don't know where she is."

The angel got out his cellphone and sent a quick text message to the satyress. Mrs. Robertson, where are you? It's Matriel.

He received a reply a minute later. Kinda busy tending to people, but I'm in the Tower. Why?

Azazel is nearby. We're considering getting his help to access a gate, but we're having to use some unorthodox methods to cheat his curse. I believe you are someone he could talk to over a phone.

Sure, I'll talk to him when you're able to give a phone to him. Maybe even play him a tune.

***

The vampiress nodded. "I understand, so I'll let her feed from me." She made a quick gash in her wrist and offered it to the dryad.

Sophia took it with a faint grimace and drank from the provided cut. The redhead watched her carefully as she drank for about a minute or so. "Alright, that should be enough without being too much."

The tree spirit finished swallowing the last bit of blood and sighed. "Thank you," she said with a light nod.

***

"You can veil me if you think my speed will take out the guards quickly enough," Nami offered. "If we've got our plan set up, we should get started. We've got others waiting on us, too," she reminded them.

***

As the gigantic length of the park was lifted up and tilted, Abdiel aimed a stream of fire at the mass of gold and luxury items, along with the demons who had fallen into the rift. The precious metals and magnificent spoils burnt and melted with the consistency of molten lava. As the flame came into contact with the fallen demons' prizes, the fire turned varying shades of orange, bright yellow and white.
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

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Marius made quick work of jumping up and through the hatch, then he scaled the ladders just as quickly, pausing at each landing to check back and make sure Tom was still behind him, offering a hand up if it was needed. Then they were at the lobby floor, and he regarded the doors for a moment; they were half open, and he paused to listen. "I can hear Drake, he's unhappy about some Volker person... there's Bucky, he's about out of steam by the sound of it. Some other folks... Aristide, Aspasia... no one else I recognize by sound..." He looked back to Tom. "I think it's safe to keep going. Strength in numbers and all that, right?"

With that he focused on the door and forced it open a little wider, just enough to where a person could slip through without much difficulty, but not so wide that he couldn't force it shut again if need be. Then he made his way down to where the others were, preemptively wincing at the awkwardness he was anticipating. He brushed his suit off a bit and deliberately scuffed his shoes against the floor to make a bit more noise before stepping into view, too. "Um. Hi. Yeah yeah, it's me, I came back, we've got more important things to worry about."

He waved off any recriminating remarks, even if he was imagining them. "Magnus is right behind me, we were in Hell for a while and we brought some turncoats back with us," he reported, raising his voice to overcome its natural hoarseness. "Meris, Aislinn, the dryad Riona and some lawyer-looking guy too, his name was... Herbert something?" He shook his head. "A snake woman named Alora and some other folks are trapped in the basement too, we almost came out on top of them."

He pulled out his silk handkerchief and wiped his face off. "There anything to drink around here? Juice, blood? Long shot, I know, but asking never hurt anyone..."
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

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With things as they were, Aidan doubted anyone would object if Aspasia ransacked the tower's corner store to feed one of the local heroes - or rehydrate another. He didn't object to her admonitions either, drinking greedily of the proffered water bottle. As for Shamus, he'd settled with a simple shrug.

"Eh," he'd said, "I'd say this place is at least a four-and-a-half stars on Yelp," he joked, after which he more or less acted as the endpoint for Aspasia's conga line of opened cans and scarfed down whatever was placed in front of him - can included. He stopped only once Aristide presented the broken length of his nose, at which point his creaking eyebrow hinges and jaw did their best to express gaping terror. Shamus felt for his face, only to start producing the slight gags and gasps of someone stuck with either a broken nose or seriously clogged sinuses.

"Thagnabbit, I thorta need some wood glue over here!"

Three placed a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "It's all just in the mind, big guy. I know you're not supposed to encourage depersonalization with Clanks, but we're not in any position to wait for wood glue or epoxy to cure. For now, just focus on this being just another stick of wood - your real nose doesn't exist. It's sort of like Coach's own exposed sinuses."

Shamus produced a few sniffling noises. "I know, it's just hard to put up a fight when you can't breathe right. Besides, if Neasa sees me like this..."

Judging by the smirk he etched, he wasn't entirely being serious. His mood visibly soured as Vlastos came into view, however, as he poked Aidan with a finger. "Hey buddy," he said, "it's last year's discount megalomaniac..."

Three sighed, although his posture made it clear his weariness had nothing to do with Marius' presence. Still, he forced himself to sit up and gave the vampire a level gaze. "We do," he said, in response to Marius' statement. "We've been cut off, but we've seen part of the cloud from outside. We've felt the blast wave. Providence is gone, right?"

Tom settled with a simple nod, an aggrieved look set on his features. Drake hung his head for an instant, hands at his hips, and nodded a few times. He looked back up a few seconds later, having processed the tactical aspect of things, at least. Pain obviously gave an ashen cast to his features, but there'd be time to mourn later.
- It's not all bad," noted the warthog. "We have Riona downstairs, and a fresh contingent of Pride turncoats. If Aspasia's here, I'm guessing Alora's brought her here -and that Horatio's end of the front line is holding. Oh, and my phone indicates that Archie and Crystal's GPS signatures are in a holding pattern just a few hundred meters off of the intersection of Crenshaw and Lake, right next to Centennial Park. I think they're holding for cover, probably observing something across the street. Considering this is my phone we're talking about, I'm only picking them up because they're close to one of the bigger portals around the Park."

Three nodded. "How's Herbert doing?
- Better than expected, I'd say," he said. "He has strong leadership skills and even though he still denies it, he's starting to figure out empathy. On the flipside, he still thinks Pride could only ever fit someone with a monstrous Ego - but I figure this'll change eventually. It's not everyday that you get to go from representing Hell in Celestial courtroom battles to leading a prisoner escape and being one of the liberators of the local bànfaith."

As Tom had been speaking, Aidan had lifted a finger in a request for patience and slipped off deeper into the bodega's ransacked and disturbed aisles. He returned with a boxed ham-and-cheese sandwich, a squeeze bottle of HemaPlus supplement and a regular can of Coke. 'We've never had boxed blood in store, but this should still do. Lab-grown red blood cell cultures washed in a protein, oxygen and iron suspension. The pick-me-up of choice for the Vienna Council's physical therapists," he noted, scoffing. 

He glanced at the label. "AB-positive-flavored," he said, pouting. "That alright? We'll, uh, get Nasir on the others' case, see if she can't wrench the elevator shaft open without forcing a few extra millions of further renovations on Tom."

Magnus rolled his eyes. "At this point, I'll either croon Weasel Biggs so he metaphorically lies in bed with me, or I'll poke Melmoth once he inevitably rises in power or importance - unless saving the world by the skin of your teeth means you get one concequence-free overhaul paid for with Celestial grace...
- You're saying this like you expected this much structural damage," noted Bucky, who glanced off to the side as the thralls and Aristide managed to push the harrassers back outside - at least for now.

"You could ask Marius," replied the warthog. "Nothing you consider worthwhile ever goes unchallenged. This tower is my little chunk of Iram, my glitzed-up Warlock's sanctum - and I always knew I'd have to defend its gates."

* * *

Seeing the texts coming in, Archie's eyebrows perked. "Well, that about settles in, then. The question, then, is how we are to reach our burdened friend with an inverse waterfall of Infernal flesh clambering up the front wall..."

Nergal looked back to the now-dispersing front lines in the park. "One silver lining is the definitive non-infinity of the forces arrayed," he observed. "I imagine one of our allies managed a push towards one of the Pit-based beach-heads; cut off the Goat's forces from any easy ingress. 
- Hesediel's turning the park into one half of a half-pipe works too," noted Erin. "I'm not sure what Melmoth's hoping to accomplish, except for leaving Hope with a massively cursed chunk of gold to extricate from the ground; but I'm guessing we'll eventually figure it out. As for our reaching Azazel..."

Ereshkigal looked back to her husband. "Hon? Just - try making sure he doesn't get knocked out, alright?"

Figuring out what his wife meant, the former warlord unfurled one of his metallic wings in a disturbingly casual manner. "Of course," he said. "Back-blasts aren't pleasant for anybody."

Then, as though it were a fairly normal occurrence, Nergal fished out an RPG launcher from his wing's folds. Shouldering it expertly, he took an instant to first situate Azazel, and then picked a point a few hundred meters away on the same floor. "I like to think someone's in for a particularly overdue insurance claim, honestly," he noted, almost conversationally, before pulling the trigger. Fire belched from the rear of the instrument, while a plume of smoke shot towards the climbing demons. A ball of fire erupted against the building's front wall, scattering several dozen Fiends and sending most of them straight back down to the ground - in various states of injury. Nergal didn't wait, instead settling with fishing out another rifle for himself and then advancing in a crouched position. Knowing the demons would regroup quickly, Archie didn't waste time and slipped in behind the Infernal weaponsmith. Keeping his cane's weapon low, he fired from the hip a few times to keep a few dazed Pitspawn down.

The building had two front doors, one for the ground-level café and another for the apartments and leased office spaces above. It wasn't long before they'd spot one of the upper corners of the gash the rocket had opened in the wall, Nergal's red pinpricks of light in his sockets blinking a few times as he began to perceive the curse's outer radius.

"Azazel!" he called out. "I am Nergal, formerly of Mesopotamia and the Pit, and I come here with friends! I didn't wish to harm you; I only sought to disperse some of the Fiends outdoors! Are you alright?!"

In the back, Zeke looked a bit as if he thought that the idea of asking a cursed being if he was fine was bordering on the absurd. Thankfully, however, he knew not to comment on this for now. A few ragged breaths were eventually heard - almost sobs - and Crystal would be able to smell the Faun's physical wretchedness as acutely as if he'd been standing in front of her. He smelled like the sort of animals she might've trapped in her early days on the force, too sick for rehabilitation and too weak for treatment. A clawed, scab-covered and exceedingly dirty hand gripped the corner and, slowly, the Scapegoat's features came into view. Archie felt like biting his lower lip if he could've, as the interplay between the creature's pathetic appearance and the curse it carried was worse than any torture he'd ever been briefed on.

"Stay here," cautioned Nergal. "Don't come any closer, Azazel.
- Y-You spew fire at me, tear open walls and then ask me to stay away?! Why won't you help me?!" he asked, pain twisting his voice.

"We are helping you," quietly countered Erin. "We're helping you by staying just outside of your effect's boundary while being as close as we dare. We'd like to offer you something, too. We can't give it to you directly, but we can slide it along the floor, towards you. In return, we'd like to ask for a favor."

Azazel recoiled slightly, as though the corner's wall could protect him. "What do you want?
- We'd like you to open a gate for us. You probably know what the Goat's failsafe is, and you know what he intends to do if he loses.
- I know it's begun," added the Scapegoat, voice shaking with a mixture of both sorrow and fear. "I know it's already too late for many cities in your realms... Are you going to hurt me for it?"

Archie softened his voice. "Heavens no, lad. We would never do such a thing, for as long as our minds are in our possession," he said, then fishing out his smartphone. "Here," he said. "I will place a means of contact on the first image you shall see on this device. All of us still require devices like this, but I do believe this body of mine could dispense me from such contraptions. Hold this device in one hand and use your thumb to select the image labeled Aspasia. It will put you in contact with someone who is not physically present, but who nonetheless is eagerly expecting you."

Azazel shivered. "If this Aspasia is not here with you, does this mean you want me to contact her shade?"

Holden smiled, hopefully in the most patient way he could muster. "This device allows us to speak to living friends, family members and allies located oceans away, as though they were right next to us. Aspasia is not so far off, in this case - but you will understand why she must remain quarantined from your own curse - as do we all. We cannot approach you, that much is true - but we can support you."

The Scapegoat's fear was palpable, as he'd likely been given false hopes by the Goat before. He looked about ready to spurn the offered olive branch, only to sigh deeply. "It's your home that was invaded," he said out loud, as though to convince himself, "you wouldn't have any reason to add to my suffering..."

Erin nodded. "That's right. I don't know if the Goat taught you modern idioms, but the ball is in your camp. If you decide you don't like what Aspasia has to say, you can slide the phone back to mister Holden."

It took a few long seconds, but Azazel's snout bobbed up and down. "F-First image," he mumbled. "Aspasia..."

Nodding, the android slowly placed a knee and a hand to the ground, his other hand thumbing Aspasia's number to the front page and pinning it there. He placed the silver slab of plastic and aluminium on the ground and then gave it a little push, the handset skittering towards the corridor's corner. It took a few seconds, but the Faun soon bent down to recover the device. He spent a few minutes haphazardly poking at it, which forced Erin and Archie to motion at Nergal for patience. Eventually, Azazel managed to bring up the dialer with Aspasia's saved number and showed it to the others for confirmation.

"W-What do I do, then?
- Press the green button at the bottom of the screen and then bring the top of the little box to your ear. Make sure the bottom lines up with your mouth," supplied Archie.

Azazel licked his lips. "Is Aspasia inside the box?" he asked. It took every ounce of self-control Archie had for him to avoid reaching out to the poor creature with a kind chuckle and a smile. "Er, no," he said. "Regrettably, any adequate answer would be too complex for now. Suffice it to say, this box allows you to reach through to Aspasia, like a missive or a courier dispatch would."

Azazel looked like he wanted to nod his understanding, even if his body language continued to evoke utter bewilderment along with intense suspicion. The way he looked at Archie's smartphone, he expected this Aspasia of theirs to immediately pelt verbal abuse at him through the airwaves...

* * *

Arthur kept a knee to the ground on the other side of the bed, one hand on Dickens' back. "You'll be nauseous at first," he gently explained to the dryad, "and then Alana's blood will be absorbed by your stomach's lining. You'll feel light-headed, possibly euphoric... This is Moon-Walker blood, as Horatio would say. You might start to see or hear things, you might have mood swings that go either way..."

He then sighed. "Then, a few hours from now, you'll crash. I've never seen a Freak with an ounce of wisdom donate their blood to someone who's..."

The undead thespian hesitated. "Who's already so close to death as you are," he admitted. "Neither Alana or myself know exactly how things are going to turn out for you. I'll take over if I have to, but all three of us will eventually need blood for ourselves. We can postpone your crash by feeding you more, but..."

Claudia nodded. "That's inadvisable, yeah," she said, clearly understanding. "A dryad turning undead in circumstances like ours wouldn't be great-"

She couldn't finish, something making her eyes and voice trail. Slowly, she made her way back to Alana's wrist, her lips twisting out of disgust or incomprehension.

"Alana," she said. "Y-Your wrist..."

At face value, you could've thought nothing was out of the ordinary. The redhead hadn't licked it closed yet, but blood flow shouldn't have been an issue for her. She was a Freak, after all. Practically the only thing allowing for blood to flow should've been Sophia's suction motion. 

And yet, the flow was increasing - as though she were alive. A steady trickle of arterial blood stained the bed's covers - but that wasn't what Claudia had pointed at. What was unusual was how the pooling blood only slightly stained the covers, and how most of it was beginning to flow towards the bed's side, acting as though the rest of the sheets had been rendered waterproof, forming thick spikes as it did, like ferrofluid reacting to a moving magnet..."

As she watched, Albert unclenched his hands from the sides of his face and reached down, ignoring the odd popping noises his facial features made as some sort of interior force reset what Horatio's gifts had distorted. His skin turned dry and speckled with what looked like eczema on a time-lapse, the unpopped zits and warts that had marked him as a Freak falling away, revealing the slightly burnished skin of a fiftysomething man in peak physical condition. His ears' pinna shifted slightly, going from their uneven angles to small, almost subtle points. Even with his lowered eyelids, it was easy to tell that something had changed in his eyes. The wide-eyed look of what had been a perennially off-kilter psyche had been replaced with apparent clarity. He smirked at something only he could dwell on, and lowered his hand towards the flowing blood.

Almost like a pet, or a snake, the rivulet of blood flowed backwards along his arm and rested in a fat glob inside his palm. His dead hair fell away in the same instant, leaving him with a perfectly bald pate and his previously spotty pencil mustache. It looked to have been bolstered, somehow; its ridiculous curling points having fallen off to leave him with something approaching John Waters' famous facial getup.

"Get in front of the bed," he said to the others, his voice eerily quiet with determination. "A detachment's just found his way in here. They'll have heard and smelled us within a few minutes - I can smell them already.
- Are you finally going to tell us what's just happened?!" asked Arthur, who slipped into position to protect Sophia. Albert kept his eyes on the door, his free hand lightly twirling the glob of blood in his palm.

"Lucifer is here," said Albert, smiling almost like Blofeld would while stroking his white cat. "It stands to reason that Lilith wouldn't be too far off, either. She also has some skin in this game. The simplest way I could put it is that I'm no longer of Horatio's blood."

Arthur blinked. "Lilith can't change someone's bloodline on a whim; that'd be-"

He hesitated. "Can she?" he then asked.

Banging noises could be heard from behind one of the collapsed ends of the corridor. Dickens nodded in the negative. "I didn't change bloodlines, Arthur. I was made sire for a new one.
- And you're chill about this how, exactly?" nervously asked Claudia.

Albert glanced back at Sophia. "You could ask our sylvan friend about sanity and the lack thereof. It's all a matter of perspective. Insanity, clarity... I can see power roiling around inside all of you, lying dormant for those of you who still don't have a heartbeat; coursing along for those of us who do. We treat streets, pathways and waterways as the only arcane confluents worth exploiting, but each of us is a Nexus unto ourselves - and our veins carry the stuff of our power. It carries our life, who we are, what we hold dear, what we strive for..."

He shifted his right hand, the glob of blood essentially shifting along and turning into a pointed object, like a crude dagger fashioned out of suspended and flowing blood.

"I called myself Doctor while dealing sickness and death. I called myself a healer while swindling innocents. I died and spent generations handing out candy and popcorn from my stall, too afraid to admit I'd never had the power to save a single soul. I do, now."

Grunts and shouts were soon heard from right outside. The point of Dickens' dagger extended with strange sloshing sounds - like what you would've heard out of a Void Weaver suspending a measure of liquid in a shape - and the dagger effectively turned into a whip.

"Doctor Dickens is in," the newborn said, just as bangs against the door began.

* * *

Lucifer smirked at Nami and then gestured vaguely, the air around both himself and the young Throne shimmering for a moment. "After you, mademoiselle," he said, bringing his trident up to bear. "You two, stick close and out of sight for a few minutes..."

Lucifer being who he is, simply clambering down the hill in full view probably was tempting. Instead, he opted to give Nami a few seconds more to get into position by first brushing against his elected victim, and then coming back into view while wearing the guard's appearance. Understandably, the tall, black-skinned and vaguely Faun-like being was rather confused.

"Hey, Lygos," he asked of his partner, pointing with his rifle. "You seeing this, or is it just me?"

For now, Lucifer pulled the old Groucho Marx trick of aping his Veiling victim's gestures and expressions, having even Veiled his trident in the shape of a rifle. Lygos the demon, obviously surprised, took a few steps forward and passed a hand in the space between the now-twinned Fiends.

"Huh," he said. "No displacement. Commander's not the type to pull a prank, is he?
- He's Pride, we're Wrath. Only prank he'd pull, he'd do it to our faces. We don't do pranks so much as we do gratuitous sadism. Mirror illusion's more of a Vanity yen - Goat's personal retinue. Ain't no Vain bastards around here. S'probably a loose chunk of mundane magic, slipped through here with one of the portals - happens all the time. Just let it go, Octias; it'll probably dissipate in a few minutes."

Still, Octias was obviously intrigued. He stepped closer, pouted at "himself" and began to scope out his own features, Lucifer keeping pace until Lygos had his back turned. Only then did he break synchronicity and plaster a shit-eating grin on the demon's "reflection" where there was effectively none.

"Yeah," he said, usurping Octias' voice, "about there being no Vain bastards around here? There's one now."

He clicked his tongue. "Hey, good-lookin'!"

Octias didn't have the time to raise his gun, as Lucifer had used the butt of his own - or the base of his trident - to smack one in the demon's jaw. Momentum was conserved and a second attack landed across Octias' legs, making him fall to the floor. Lucifer's trident then fell on the demon's neck, pinning it between two of its tines. There was a faint whir of gathering energy, followed by Octias' eyes effectively bursting open.

* * *

As expected, those who hadn't gone after Allocer and the others were now preoccupied with clutching the park's soil with the energy of desperation, clinging to trees as they tried to avoid tipping into the molten and gaping maw below. Melmoth didn't help their case, however, having aimed his jet of gross material luxury at the top of the incline - and allowing for a crashing, blaring, clattering and shattering tide of stuff to barrel into the remaining Fiends and pushing them into the pit of molten gold.

The Broker had a hard time keeping his glee off his face. "Aw, don't like your prizes?" he spat. "Why gripe - you'll all get to share once we mail you lot somewhere into the next galaxy over!"
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

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Aspasia scoffed sympathetically to the Japanese automaton's plight and looked around the shelves for any wood glue. She found a small batch of bottles and picked one out that had an applicator brush. She placed it on the counter next to him. "I'm sure Neasa won't mind; if she was here, I'm sure she'd help apply the glue to your nose to repair it."

Elsewhere, Crystal watched as the cursed Faun appeared from behind the corner. Knowing the risk, she kept her distance toward the back of their party. Matriel stood toward the front and quietly watched, bearing a neutral expression.

Since she had been anticipating his call, Aspasia answered gently, her voice throaty yet casual, "Hello, Azazel. I'm Aspasia. I'm outside the range of your curse, so you can speak freely. How are you, first off?"

***

Even with Albert's explanation and his witty statement, the tension was collectively felt by the vampiress, the selkie, and the dryad.

Sophia remained near the bed, but Alana's provided blood gifted her with some sobering clarity despite her weakened state. She still felt that her end was likely near, but she understood that they would get through this conflict one way or another. The boost allowed her to extend some vines to defend herself with.

Ciaran took his place in front of the bed and sent his lover a steely yet comforting gaze, showing that he wouldn't leave her side. She responded with a light nod and a slight tightening of her lips. The roane readied his powers to hopefully take out as many demonic soldiers as possible.

Alana quickly lapped up her wound and stood protectively in front of the bed, claws drawn in preparation for the attack.


***

With both guards out of commission, Nami found some dead brush and rocks that would be a good hiding spot. She placed them near each other and laid the fallen branches over them. "Off to ask for that shift change and see what's ahead of us," she said to Lucifer, her own veil resembling a Damned faun with charred skin.

"See if you can't feel around the area for us, so we'll be able to know what to look for more quickly," she sent to Lucian.

***

"If you get to share it at all once I melt the rest of the metal and you lot in it," Abdiel amended as she eyed the horde of demons sinking into the glittering smorgasbord of decadence and luxury. What you want forever ever out of reach, near and yet so far. I believe that's how you've typically punished those you've Damned without any means of rehabilitation." The Elemental blasted the trove with more intense flames.
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

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"AB positive is fine, my thanks," Marius replied as he accepted the snacks and blood from Aidan. "I'm surprised there's anything left after Wallace ran low." He ate the sandwich in a few bites and downed the soda, slowly so as not to elicit a burp or belch. Then he sipped at the blood and listened to the others. "Tom is right. And I'll add as well that anything worthwhile is worth fighting for. A lesson I forgot once, but I've come to relearn it lately."

He still couldn't quite grasp the fact that he was standing here, eating and drinking with people he had once sworn all manner of vengeance upon. It seemed unreal, like his presence here. If his past had been any indication he should have been standing with the forces of Hell, or waiting in the wings with the Others for the rest to wear themselves out. That he was here, now, and undoubtedly with the 'good guys'...

Too much of a rabbit hole to think too hard about, he decided. He knew he'd get lost in his own thoughts if he let them get away from him down there. He shook his head and forced himself back to the present, and listened in on Aspasia's call with Azazel. "That one again," he muttered, shaking his head again. "Being near him just reminded me of the years I spent lost and angry, and by now I think I'm burnt out on it all. I know who's truly to blame, here. I feel no pity for him, but no resentment either. Indifference, if anything."
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

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Three sat back down, still looking like he could use a minute or two off his feet to recover."I agree," he said. "The Goat's sick, somehow. I doubt any shrink could unpack what Akoman set in his head, but something tells me angels don't develop that kind of runaway Ego without someone or something else prodding them. They're resilient to the Black Speech, but not invulnerable - and there could also be something else at play that corrupted him, somehow. Then, judging by what Naberius showed us a year ago, he and everyone else in the Pit misconstrued Lucifer's intentions for Hell. If they didn't, they took advantage of what it offered - the added isolation, the secrecy, the near-infinite space..."

As for Bucky, he'd settled with pocketing both his nose's spindle and the container of wood glue. "Thanks, Asp - wouldn't do good to patch this up and then re-enter the fray; I'd risk losing my nose somewhere outside. I reckon I'll wait 'till things calm down a smidge."

More noise erupted outside, but it didn't last long. The latest outpouring of enemy forces was apparently obliterated in a blinding flash, and Helena Nasir entered the lobby while shouldering Paimon's weight. She didn't support him long, instead letting him re-stabilize himself a few paces in and instead focusing on the long gash Drake had described. Fingers undulating and dark energy stretching in tendrils from her fingers, she willed it closed and placed a hand on the freshly-healed wound, making the Duke wince. 

"Join the others," she told him, in her faint Slavic accent. "You also require sustenance after this much effort. Wrath seems to have found its new herald - and it is now keeping what remains of the enemy quite occupied."

Turning her eyes on the others, she approached them. "An opportunity presents itself," she said. "Lucifer has left a section of his spear wedged in the Goat's arm, and a detachment from the Burning Legion is escorting the now-freed Leonard Ephesian back to us. Our scouts report of Nami Urakawa and her allies entering Hell from a portal above Crenshaw. Lucifer and the former Administrator are with her."

The Victorian jungle troll couldn't quite restrain a smile at the two young women at his sides, as he heard the Vanguard Queen's summary. "This is capital news!
- Indeed," agreed Nasir. "We may finally take the Black Goat into custody. The Pride contingents will see his capture as a dereliction of duty, which may finally open the path to peace."

Tom slapped his right fist into his left palm, teeth clenched around a particularly satisfied-sounding Yes! "Mel and Abdiel are keeping the apes in line and taking the pressure off of the Legion and Heaven. We should act fast, while their manoeuvre is still focusing their attention..."

He turned partially around and waved Anjali and Miranda closer. "Angie, you're covering Miranda's post for now. Mira, your job's to wolf up and clamber up the emergency stairwell to Rhadamantus' apartment. It's almost certainly blocked by parts of the damaged elevator shaft, so I'll need you to be especially careful. If he's asleep, wake him up. We need him to draft an exhaustive overview of the Goat's crimes and print it out in triplicate. Tell him to expect a text from me; I'll send him Jubal Whitney's info and from there, he'll have access to the President himself, if he needs to. One copy, he'll ingest for his own benefit, another one goes to the Vienna Council by email, and a third one goes to the Supreme Court - not addressed to anyone. The Goat's still in control of pockets of the legislature, but we need to prime things for when we'll have scraped the last of the Pitspawn out of the country. Jones and Whitney can make sure our case brief gets in the right hands."

That said, he looked back to the others. "Right - we've got a war criminal to bag up. Who's coming?"

* * *

Aspasia would've felt the need to step aside a tad, to avoid losing Azazel's words in the developing events. Still, he apparently heard her quite well. He produced a dry and labored chuckle. "You would not ask me this if you knew me," he said, his mixture of pent-up frustration and unfocused energy giving way to a strangled sob. "I would have preferred Damnatio Memoriae or one of the other Celestial Burdens to this. I see your kindness, hear it now in your voice, but if you stood before me..."

He stopped and lightly gagged as his emotions pushed past his ability to speak. "Y-You would not be able to help yourself. You would hate me with every fiber of your being. At least, the other Fauns died with the energy of hatred and resentment; my only fault was of seeking a meal after days of starvation, not knowing that those I'd stolen from were also starving! I was the one drop too many that makes the cup overflow. Have you ever been spat at for three seasons' lack of a harvest?!"

Archie pursed his lips together. "The past is past now, lad - Aspasia only wishes to help you! Tell her how you fare as of this moment - see where this takes you."

That left Azazel to lick his lips for a moment. "This is... new to me," he said. "If I had something to throw at this machine-man and his strange hat to keep him and his friends away, I would. Every time someone has been patient with me, it has turned out to be another one of the Goat's ploys to prolong my suffering."

He hesitated for a moment. "You do know them, right?" he asked of Aspasia. "If, somehow, this man could withstand my curse, do you think he would be genuine towards me?"

Archie couldn't possibly have looked more pained or empathetic. "I assure you, dear boy, would that I could step forth and not suffer - 
I didn't ask you," clipped the Scapegoat. "I asked Aspasia."

* * *

After several more bangs, silence settled in for long seconds. Then, without much warning, the steel-reinforced faux-wood door was slowly and laboriously wrenched open by snarling Fiends that used their claws and the flat of a blackened sword to use as prying tools. Dickens leaned in forward like a fencer, arm flashing downwards as his blood-hewn whip cut off a set of wickedly-clawed fingertips. Pained howls followed, with more fingers and digits replacing those he'd just severed. More slashes resulted in further losses, until the only things that slipped through the slowly-widening crack consisted of other swords or pilfered lengths of piping. Just as the door gave out, Dickens sliced his palm open with the conjured object he'd reset in the shape of a dagger, and threw his hand forward, his blood's droplets somehow acting like a small swarm of ultra-dense pellets. Hands and arms came careening to the floor, either torn open by fat droplets that had touched the Fiends' skin with all the force of a handful of buckshot, or pinned in place by dome-shaped droplets that refused to obey gravity and simply ooze down the limbs' sides. Instead, the demons snarled while trying to raise their arms or hands and barely managed to inch their limbs away. Not wanting to engage his still-fragile instincts, Arthur settled with picking up the entertainment center's sound bar and using it as a blunt instrument, adding crushing force to Albert's own efforts.

Eventually, one of the lasting Fiends spat at them, his features reduced to a ruinous maw of broken teeth, bruises and open sores. "Run and hide," it said, laughing, "they will have heard us by now. They will find you again - the underground is still ours!"

Angry, Arthur landed a few more blows, only for another Fiend to manage a leering smirk behind his bruises. "If you run, you will require blood. You will find none but my kind's to sustain yourselves, and your ward is not long for this world...
- We'll head back to my brother's," countered Arthur, "there's a whole tower of allies we could feed from! We - 
- You're cut off. You might as well give us the dryad now, save yourselves further humiliation."

In the distance, more roars and shouts could be heard. More demons were coming. Albert looked down at the closing gash in his palm and then back at Ciaran.

"We won't be able to hold them off forever," he said, his tone patient and empathetic. "If we uncap the Nexus now, we'll give ourselves and our allies a much-needed increase in potency, even if it's only temporary. We'll be able to use it to its fullest potential until either one of two things happen: the Pit destroys the Tree or one of our teams stops the planar shellings."

Arthur blinked. "You can't seriously be expecting Ciaran to-
- Yes," countered Dickens, "I am. Sophia can buy us more time and prevent her resources from falling into enemy hands, and none of us can do this on our lonesome. She won't fight for much longer, Arthur - and if they take her..."

Claudia's countenance had turned ashen, and the words formed lumps in her throat. "If they take her, they'll sever the bond between herself and her seeds. They'll corrupt her first, then kill her. Eirean won't ever be able to plant another dryad from Sophia's strain."

Helplessness and denial made the thespian's usually dry eyes glisten with bloody tears that threatened to fall. "This isn't fair! It isn't fair for her, for Eirean, for anyone involved here!"

Stammering, Arthur looked to his flame in obvious desperation. "Tell him this is ridiculous, Alana! Tell me I've got at least this right, for once! You can't possibly ask of Ciaran that he kill her now!"

* * *

Lucian settled with a nonverbal notion of assent, the sense of his having carefully begun to scuttle towards one of the windows being broadcasted. As expected, Allocer joined his two Veiled friends and allowed Lucifer to conjure a convincing pair of manacles into being around his wrists. Keeping one arm looped around the former Knight's arm, he thumbed what looked a fair bit like a short-distance CB hooked to his shoulder.

"West Guard to Control, we've got a package inbound...
- Roger, West Guard. Notifying the Commander. Package ID?"

Lucifer paused for an instant, stopping in the blind spot of one of the White House's cameras to allow himself a short grin. "Allocer," he then said, once he was sure he wouldn't chuckle on-air. As expected, Control needed a while to acknowledge something this sudden - and this crucial. A few seconds later, however, the radio crackled again.

"Ten-four, West Guard. Shift change underway, prepare for debrief. Commander's waiting for you in the Oval Office."

As they walked, Lucifer kept his own telepathic channel open. "You gotta hand it to Greed; they're real good when it comes to art forgery... Seeing as we've got a desk to return to its proper place and an actual White House that's been gutted by raiders and bomb drops, I'm thinking we could do a little more than just try and disarm the shelling routine..."

Lucian's mental landscape radiated scepticism. "You want me to switch the ruined original for the more-intact copy...
Why not? We've got one antique to save, a launch sequence to disarm and on the long term, your adopted home's got a capital city to rebuild, destroyed art pieces to mourn and a goat-faced presidential bust to deface. Everything's structurally identical, and whatever masturbatory surplus is on offer can just be chucked into an incinerator, later on. Mammon's got expert forgers on call, and none of your mortal Art History buffs could ever see the difference. You'd need a conga line of electron microscopes to maybe find something to gripe at."

He added a telepathic tongue-clicking noise. "Besides, this place is already sinking. Fuckheads never bothered with a base concrete slab, so either we do something with this before leaving, or it goes Tower of Piza on Hell's time-frame."

Lucian didn't reply outright, instead settling with a mental sigh. "Architect willing...
Oh, He'll will it, for sure," replied Lucifer. 

Just as they entered the Oval Office, Lucifer sent a sharp kick in one of Allocer's shins, forcing the bigger demon to one knee. Before them waited one of the bigger demon's colleagues, similar to both Allocer and Paimon, if slightly taller and larger, with more simplistic and vaguely animal facial features. Grunting in pain, Hope's deposed administrator glanced upwards.

"Hiya, Melchom - thought you'd still be rocking armor plates..."

Melchom snorted and approached the trio, arms crossed in front of him. "Look at you," he groused, his voice low. "Light-colored clothes, expression wrinkles, even more human proportions than what you displayed before your assignment... How the mighty have fallen, Allocer. I always knew you'd buy into your Benevolent Dictator charade - buy into it so completely you'd go native.
- Look who's talking," retorted Allocer. "Black Brooks Brothers, a London Fog blazer... That turtleneck - Calvin Klein, right?"

Grimacing, Melchom gripped Allocer by his one intact horn and used it as leverage, forcing him up to his feet and then using his free hand to land a right cross to Allocer's right cheek. Then, mockingly, he straightened his former colleague and fussed at the lapels of Allocer's suit, tsking in realizing the suit had been torn in a number of places since he'd begun to take action. 

"Appearances to keep," noted the bigger Pride Knight. "You know perfectly well how things go with the Goat. Speaking of, you've definitely looked better before. I wouldn't know whether to debase you further for the Prince's pleasure or lock you up, instead - force you to go through a few courses of mortal flesh so you perk up a bit..."

Allocer spat blood on the side. "Not terribly hungry, to be honest. Not for food, anyway."

Melchom forced Allocer forward, sneering. "I assume you'd prefer revenge? Well, it's too late for that. The final mortar drops have begun. You've already lost Paris, Okinawa, Montreal, Providence, Scranton, Rio de Janeiro and a few-"

Allocer opted to keep Melchom distracted, and noted the recessed LCD screen protruding from the desk, along with a dual-key activation system. The proverbial "nuclear football" had been switched to something more portable and discrete several administrations ago.

"Scranton?" he asked, coughing and managing a bit of spluttering laughter. "There's a Nexus in Scranton, Ohio?!
- You really shouldn't laugh," noted Melchom. "Some of your precious mortals died-"

The commander couldn't finish, as Allocer had jabbed the tip of his remaining horn as deep into Melchom's abdomen as he could, gritting his teeth and grunting in challenge.

"NAMI," he shouted, "GO FOR IT! KEYBOARD'S JUST UNDER THE BASE BOARD! HURRY!"

Freeing his arms, Allocer did the best he could in order to gain purchase on Melchom and gore his former ally's abdomen further. He'd have to quickly remove his horn and find a way to club or pound Melchom into submission without distracting Nami.

* * *

Before long, most of Centennial Park's demonic presence had been consigned to a decidedly excruciating demise between the two large hills the stretch of greenery now sported. The Pit could no longer send an infinity of reinforcement forth, and those that took up positions just past the rift clearly weren't willing to literally go die on the hill that was technically theirs. They held their ground but advanced no further, snarling or shouting at Melmoth and Abdiel. The Broker spared them a mean smirk, before blowing away as more clouds of smoke and reforming right beside Abdiel, hands set on her shoulders.

"I just love it when you go Biblical, honey," he said, his voice low with obvious interest. "I've just been a very bad Pitspawn and helped you save the rest of the city's lives..."

His patchy and downy wings accidentally came into view, but the Broker didn't exactly feel like hiding them. "If I asked you to smite me after dinner, tonight, wouldja do it?"

First reduced to frustration, the remaining contingent howled out of pure impotent rage at that sight. Several hundred voices called for treachery or blood, but these droves were small pickings after what the city had endured. On the opposite hill, the angels and demons of the Burning Legion raised their weapons and cried out in victory.
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

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Miranda quickly nodded. "I'm on it!" she exclaimed, shouldering her rifle for the time being. She quickly waved at Anjali and made for the emergency staircase near the rear of the convenience store.

The first portion of the stairs was easy to ascend, but she soon enough ran into the more dangerous parts of the corridor. However, she keenly saw where to climb and maneuver herself to keep the collapsed parts from shifting further and harming her or the building's structure. It reminded her some of a video game that required subtle movement in order to not fall into a worse fate. Undamaged sections came after that, which sped her trek upwards toward the residential area Rhadamantus was located at. Another careful crawl later through the downed elevator shaft, she cleared the rest of the steps and was at Rhadamantus' door.

She had no idea if he was awake or not, so the young Fauness rapped quickly and loudly on the door. "Rhadamantus, are you awake? It's Miranda; you've got work to do!"

***

With her daughter off to alert the Judicator, Aspasia did move herself to a quieter area of the convenience store. However, the mention of the "machine man and his strange hat" apparently struck her as somewhat funny, causing her to chuckle briefly. "Yeah, his clothing preferences aside, I know Archie quite well. It's been at least a full day since I last saw him, so I don't know who else is currently with him besides Matriel. My friends have a tendency to pull in others as allies. Though, if you care to tell me who you see, I can figure out who I do know. "

"Relating back to your history, I have been spat on, though not for wrongs linked to agricultural losses," she admitted with a sigh. "I was spat on because I was viewed as a traitor or as a monster by those who resented me for various reasons. As for your last question, I know Archie would treat you genuinely if he could withstand your curse, and I'm not just saying that. I was a former enemy of his, but over time, we have become friends and allies. I earned his respect and companionship."

She lightly cleared her throat and spoke gently, yet firmly, "Now, back to what I asked you. Before you answer, I want you to inhale deeply through your nose and exhale through your mouth. Focus on your breathing as it flows inwards and outwards in that moment. Don't focus on past events from thousands of years ago, or what might happen in five minutes from now. Try your best to focus on that moment. After you do that, I want you to tell me how you are faring."

***

Alana trembled lightly at Albert's logic, and she wasn't able to hold back blood-laced tears. "A-Arthur, w-we-we're limited on options. We can run farther, but that would only decrease our chances of escaping," she acknowledged. "That puts Sophia at an even higher risk of falling into their hands. I don't want to watch her suffer more than she already has, Arthur...I don't think you do, either..."

The dryad set her eyes on the thespian and wearily shook her head. "It has to be done. I have a duty to this city, to all of you. Trying to stall for time by running will wear all of us down. I'm not willing to put us at risk in order to waylay my passing..."

As for Ciaran, he fumbled his way through understanding Dickens' words and looked down at the sword he had brought with him. He sniffled and tightly shut his eyes in denial of Dickens' suggestion, vigorously shaking his head. His head was stilled by the tree spirit cupping his face. He opened his dark eyes to look into her emerald ones, "N-no, I can't..."

"You must," she quietly insisted, gently kissing him on the lips. "Tom gave you that blade and explained how to do it so I won't suffer. I have been planning for this possibility for years; do not make my preparations be in vain. My death will also give you another boon against our enemy, besides the temporary flood of power from the Nexus. You must also secure my body so it can eventually be returned to the Earth, so I can nurture my unborn sister. You can't let them plunder my body to give to Amaxi."

Her rebuttal rang true to his reasoning, but it broke his heart regardless. The selkie shuddered and blearily eyed her. "I don't want to do this, but I understand what's at risk...I'll do it."

Sophia grimly nodded and smiled sadly, having difficulty holding back greenish tears. "Thank you, my Knight..."

She eyed the others, wiping away errant tears. "I don't want to leave any of you, and I will miss you all so very much. However, our time is limited, but I won't leave you abruptly."

Ciaran helped Sophia lay back on the bed and rest her head comfortably on the pillow. He unsheathed the sword and placed it just so near her ribcage. He eyed the others and swallowed hard to emphasize that now was the time to say their goodbyes.

***

As time was of the essence, Nami lobbed a ball of Celestial light at Melchom's face while rushing for the desk. She knew her minor attack would only do so much to injure the commander, but she immediately got to work. Her angelic synapses began to seep into the hardware, feeling around for vulnerabilities and ways to get past any firewalls or passwords. Her rapid reflexes on the keyboard made quick work of bypassing security measures.

***

At the remaining contingent of demons, Abdiel placed her hand on her hip and bellowed at them, "Oh, shut up! Unless you want to see me go overkill on the rest of you, pipe down!"

She then returned her attention to Melmoth and smiled sensually. The angel leaned down next to his right ear and whispered, "If you ask for it after dinner, I'll give the most spectacular smiting of your existence, Mel..."
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

Post by Karl the Mad »

"The Black Speech..." Marius shook his head. "It's an easy villain to blame for these situations, isn't it? Anyone goes mad, anywhere at all- Squids did it. You, me, Leonard... men and angels have their own dark sides, boy, squids just draw them out for all to see. Men go crazy, angels become demons. Or, or however that works, I'm no theologian anymore."

At Helena's arrival he stood up, draining the last of the blood. It was no steak, but it'd keep him going. "Good news," he agreed with the others. Where could he do the most good? Go retrieve Leonard, stay here and eavesdrop on the conversation with Azazel, go and subdue this new champion Wrath had ensnared? Each route had its perks...

After a moment he stepped up beside Tom. "I'm with you," he said firmly, gripping his revolver in one hand again. "Let's bring that asshole in." Azazel didn't need his help, and he was a risk to everyone while those Wrath circlets were still in play. Best to stick with the big guns.
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

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Tom nodded at Marius and sent another look back at Aislinn. "Once more into the breach, honey? Hopefully this'll be the last time..."

* * *

Miranda might have been under the impression that Rhadamantus had been snoozing through the siege, but the tentacle-footed dragon cracked his door open with one of Archie's old dressing robes on, on top a three-piece that was starting to look like it'd seen better days. His clawed fingers were stained with ink of various colors, and his constant looks of extreme fatigue did a poor job of hiding just how industrious he'd been. Smiling and gliding aside, he introduced the girl to what probably was the messiest apartment in the tower.

Dog-eared legal textbooks and pile after pile of photocopies could be found on the floor, on his coffee table, and virtually on every surface that allowed for it. He'd once been furnished with a slightly dated and rather masculine flat, complete with a personal office and its wall-length bookcases. Now, however, there wasn't an inch of the place that didn't bear the marks of the former Judicator's preparations. Even the bed hadn't been spared, seeing as he mostly slept while standing upright. A thick coating of dust had settled over those papers and books Randolph hadn't disturbed in several weeks, while a small section of his dining room table looked to have been co-opted as a work desk. The table's entire plane was a mess, but three towers of books formed a small alcove of sorts that was kept strangely dust-free and neatly organized.

"I think I know why you were sent to me, sweet girl," he murmured, in the kind of geriatric purr that made it feel as though speaking was a momentous effort - albeit one he was glad to subject himself to. "I knew the time for Due Process would come, and I felt no inclination to wait about for our friends to safeguard the city - let alone the courthouse. I woke up this morning, and there it was," he said, gesturing to his chest as he slithered towards the dining room.

"A spark of Order," he said. "The pieces of a millennia-old puzzle, finally coming together - with provable facts. All the blood that was spilled in our laws' name, even your own sacrifices... All coming to a head. The deposed administration is in holding, the weasel's twisting of the Law was tolerated..."

He smiled. "I am thousands of miles away, but there is a clerk in Texas, even now, who's carried my file over to President Jones. I felt him sign an executive order proclaiming the extraordinary recognition of Jurors of a Paranatural Origin. The circle was closed and I was given power. Now the seals must be applied..."

The dragon-shaped demon lifted a thick expandable folder big enough to fit an attaché-case and passed it on to the Fauness. "This must be mailed off to the Supreme Court's occult address, which you will find on top of the folder, inside," he explained, then pointing to another one just like it. "I will photocopy this one once, and send both copies off to both Ephesian and Wormsworth - all five hundred pages of it. They both should receive court summons as soon as the country's network stability allows... You obviously won't be able to mail anything in the immediate, but what matters is my setting an intent, before our institutions can be restored. Entrust your copy of the file to Mister Magnus - he'll know to keep it safe while we finally end this threat."

He rested a hand on the third envelope and sighed deeply. "This one, I will consume. I will pull everything to my waking mind, in good faith of Leonard and Herbert's ability to do the same on their respective parts. Once they'll have done so, the third seal will have been set. I will Name my court, in accordance with the customs I once followed..."

The dragon drew in a sharper breath, something to his posture looking a tiny bit more energetic. "The Black Goat shall finally face his reckoning, and I..."

He hesitated, seemingly having looked past Miranda into his own memories. "No," he softly grumbled, "I am to be above thoughts of petty vengeance. There is more at stake in these reams of paper than my mistakes and the lives I once destroyed, in making the mistake of trusting him..."

Still, as he turned away, shoulders briefly hunched in a rather Nosferatu-worthy pose, he kept murmuring as though he couldn't quite let go of something. He returned a moment later, gliding back towards Miranda with a strangely innocuous fragment of pottery, and a small square of vellum that was still a bit downy on one side.

"For my own case," he said, adding both of them on top of the big folder Miranda had to carry. "A piece of what he used to damn the love of my life, and the hide of a friend. Vengeance might be unbecoming of an official..."

Something red gleamed in Rhadamantus' eye. "I will still have restitution, Miranda, daughter of Silas. Part of his stolen Pride is mine to claim, by Lucifer's own edicts."

* * *

Azazel hesitated, but finally relented after a minute or so, inhaling as deeply as his still-skittish nature allowed. He inhaled and exhaled a few times, until his reduced adrenaline flow caused his pain to become a big more acute. Aspasia would hear him gasp, his breath catching in his throat for an instant, and he exhaled in a ragged breath.

"I hurt," he then said. "I hurt all over. My skin feels raw, my open cuts burn, my guts are a leaden weight, my muscles can't unclench... Everything hurts," he said, his voice breaking. "It's hurt for as long as I can remember... There's this, and the half of the curse that never leaves me, the part that builds like steam and pushes in on my edges... The only thing that's stopped it is your friends knowing better than to come closer."

Having increased his ears' audio gain, Archie caught wind of Aspasia's half of the conversation. "Don't you think Aspasia ought to know who is with you, Azazel?" he asked, hoping he came across as helpful. The Scapegoat sent him another distrustful look, but his shoulders slumped seconds later.

"There's the machine man, one of Wrath's wiser servants - and his mate. I  see a human woman with the scent of a wolf on her, and one of Gluttony's pink creatures, made smaller. Smaller and... smarter. It's wearing some sort of clothing set, and I've never seen a Warden wear clothes before."

A vaguely familiar voice reached Aspasia, in a honeyed burr she'd have heard once before in Eirean's stockade. It had once belonged to a mortal, but it had been used by a demon even as far back as the first time she'd have heard it. 

"Zeke Lyman," it said, "guilty as charged... Hello, Miss Robertson. To abbreviate, what started as a sabotage run against Belial led by Archie, his belle and Nergal and his wife out of Walpurgis ended with a prison break on Gluttony's shores. I'd say I've had time to rethink my life choices, but right now, all I've got on the brain is about twelve of your husband's Grilled Cheese Sandwich and Tomato Soup combos. The short of it is you can credit my new friends, if you happened to notice a sudden dearth of savoir-faire in the opponent's weaponry."

Azazel blinked a few times. "What's a grilled cheese sandwich?"

In response, Zeke chuckled as though he'd just been offered the juiciest piece of gossip of the last few months. "Oh, my dear boy - there's so many gaps in your educational record, and someone's going to be stuck introducing you to the sweet, salty and seductive wiles of comfort food... I'd say Aspasia's à la carte menu is to die for, but neither of us are classically alive to begin with."

The Scapegoat still looked suspicious. "What could you do to help me, besides talk to me?
- You mean after you'll have whisked us off to Hell?" asked Lyman. "We can plop your undue suffering as an extra charge on the old Judicator's To Do pile. Seeing as no Celestial authority condemned you, it can be chalked up to just another one of the Pit's multiple abuses of power. It won't redeem the rest of the Fallen Fauns, but it'd be an important step on your species' successful rehabilitation. Aspasia's Blue Chimeras provide a healthy genetic template, and you've got a compatible arcane seed. Add in a bit of luck over a few mortal generations and, well..."

Zeke clicked his tongue. "Boy meets World, World greets Boy, Boy meets Girl - the birds and the bees."

For an instant, Azazel looked utterly and absolutely confused. Then, what Aspasia happened to be truly did dawn on him.

"You saved us," he whispered, not addressing anyone in particular. "You pulled us from the brink, somehow! How did you do it?!
- Er - The process would be inordinately long to explain, Azazel," chimed Archie. "For now, it should suffice for you to know that medicine has made great strides since your terrestrial existence ended and that in some cases, some sapient species and animals can be effectively resurrected. No singular individual is brought back from the dead, but their essence is, well, rejuvenated. Aspasia might bear some resemblance with a Fauness you'll have known in eons past, or she might not. I suppose you'll see for yourself once you meet her."

Another blink. "And if I open a portal for you, you'll make this happen."

Erin nodded. "Scout's honor, Azazel - we'll root you to this plane first, make sure you're not dispelled the moment the Goat loses his mantle. We'll let you meet Aspasia, and we'll do everything we can to end your curse, even if it takes us years of research. You can keep Archie's phone for now - you can keep talking to her if you'd rather stay here, if you'd like."

* * *

"Take your time," nodded Albert, "I'll hold the door for as long as I can."

Gritting his teeth, Dickens switched his athame's hand and cut his other palm open. He then smeared his own blood both on the side of the partially wrenched-open door and the opposite side of the doorframe, long and oddly rubbery tendrils of his own substance somehow connecting together and bunching into what almost looked like the sort of ferrofluid assemblies you would've found in some high-end cybernetic limbs. The created "tendons" flexed and contracted, forcing the door shut inch by inch until it looked not only reasonably stuck, but also fairly well fastened in place.

In the meantime, Arthur had exchanged a questing look between Alana and Claudia, and had finally opted to sit by Sophia's side, opposite Ciaran. He gripped her hand and gently lifted it, placing a kiss on its back.

"There are... so many people who would be here if they knew, Sophia. More than you'd think, I'm sure. We're, um-"

Something caught in his throat, his eyes glistened, and he caught himself, plastering a smile on his features. "We're both old souls, after all. You literally grew up here, and I simply followed in my brother's coattails, on one of the last steam ships to cross the Atlantic. Archibald was a political skeptic, back then, and doubted he'd have much to offer to President Grant's efforts Southwest. He'd been reviled as a monstrosity by the Russians and treated like common rabble by the Urakawa clan's fairly demanding sensei. He'd seen other dryads before, but always from afar, always as the esteemed mortal guest for some aged woman in tree bark and fading leaves that acted like the Pre-Raphaelites were absolutely scandalous, or as though nothing would ever top the Bayeux Tapestry," he said, chuckling. "Regal, aloof types. They were probably just shy, in retrospect, but - eh."

He clicked his tongue. "He told me of the first time you met him, a while ago. He was, well, unfailingly Holden at heart, and you were you. Your registry was a little different and you still sort of sounded like you wanted to linguistically impress Eirean, but you already had a gift with people. The city was developing and winters were still stiflingly cold around Centennial Park, so you'd set up little benches right up against your door. Kids rang your doorbell if they got lost, and you'd sometimes use sap from the other trees to make taffy in the early spring. You only ever produced small batches of syrup, but we always knew what to expect when you'd stop by old Doc Ivers' drugstore and buy a small box's worth of tongue depressors..."

He laughed weakly, tears glinting in his eyes. "Nobody every knew anyone else you'd have called a friend without any sort of reservation, really. You'd graciously sit and listen when my last donor'd go up to my head and I'd build castles in Spain trying to one-up Archie's yen for conspiracies, or when Zebediah's latest bender had reached the depressive phase and he'd bang on your door and bawl his eyelights out, pleading for just a scrap of extra power... Of course, the cuddly phase usually followed after the depressive one, and he'd say you were the only one who understood, usually falling asleep in the middle of a hug..."

Then came a sigh. "Then came Aidan. Poor, young Aidan - still so confused, apparently burdened with some kind of Capital-D Destiny after all we've been through, when all he really wanted was to use your garden to center himself; get away from it all. He was like Zeb, except he always sounded like he'd processed things before his gardening shift and just happened to really value you as a sounding board - or just as a purveyor of content silence. I gave him a wide berth back when I didn't know him - I was the local Horror Movie Marathon host, and he was a lowly Public Works employee... I really should've butted in a few times, joined in on your conversations, maybe introduced him to Archie earlier... I mean, I'm glad it worked out well through Griffin's Rolodex, but you?"

He smiled and kissed her hand again. "Your green thumb's always worked well with people, darling... And Bucky! God, Bucky - all he ever needed was your home's offered shade in summertime and a good book, and he was set! If he knew you were out back, tending to your own garden, he felt like he had license enough to compete with Aidan's go-kart lawn mower with his snores. All he'd give back was a happy scoff or a thumbs-up or a satisfied yawn, but..."

He hesitated. "I think you gelled well with his idea of Zen, honestly. As for Alana and myself, though, you've always been one of the few spots where we'd both know the other's temper would cool. One of the few people who always brought us back to sanity. We'd slink over to the gazebo by twilight and argue or scream in hushed and hissed whispers, the way stupidly obsessed vampires can and, well..."

The thespian glanced at Alana, smiling, and gripped her hand. "There's something to the Tree, the scent it has in early summer, something more than petrichor and freshly-cut grass, that always spoke to me of those quiet moments early in my unlife, after the pain faded and I'd spent all my hate, and all I had left was a barely-dry underground canal at my back and my fingers on 'Lana's scalp. You've always made it easy to focus on the good side of things and, well, those summer scents are things I just can't extricate from her own smells, all those things mortals miss underneath Eau de Humidity or our own not-so-refined bouquet... I guess I've never loved as much as I've loved in your shade, Sophia."

The vampire licked his lips. "You've faced down Quint dozens of times with zero weapons whatsoever and you didn't bat an eyelash when Tom showed up riding his gussied-up warthog ass. You laid down the line for the first and graciously allowed the second to actually corrupt a single branch of the Tree, all so he'd have a Warlock's staff with local connections. Where even Bucky wondered if he'd need to deck him in the near future, you'd figured out he wanted to do all this to protect us from what was coming. I don't - I don't think you have the faintest idea of all the lives you've touched, gal - near or far. Bloody Francis Quigley who plugged himself directly into your Nexus to power the biggest illusion the Eastern seaboard had seen since Morgana replaced half of Arkansas with virgin forests for exactly sixteen minutes, back in 1936 - that Rothchild guy with the tentacles..."

He shook his head. "I think I understand why damning a dryad is so much work - you do loads of good just by existing. Just by listening, watching, maybe figuring out how to be friends with a few people-"

A quiet cough disrupted him, leaving him to glance back at Claudia with a look of vague confusion.

"I just think Ciaran deserves to speak for himself," she said. "This was probably the best tribute anyone could've spoken, but I know enough to know Ciaran's attachment to her was unique."

She glanced at the selkie, unsure if she even had the right to say what she had on the tip of her tongue. Still, she said it after a few seconds' worth of a delay.

"Dryads don't usually let themselves fall in love."

* * *

Allocer kept pushing against Melchom, his grunt rising to a stifled scream as his former colleague pushed against him, driving his elbows down on the suit-clad demon's back with sounds that disturbingly evoked crunching bones. "CANCEL IT ALL!" he shouted between two clenched-teeth grunts, "CANCEL EVERYTHING!"

Lucifer was at Nami's side a moment later, eyes affixed on the console's screen from over one of her shoulders. He wasn't a Throne, but he looked like he could make some sense of the way the Nephilim's fingers didn't just seem to be typing along, or the way they didn't simply seem to be actuating the touchpad every few seconds. Something more was unfolding, something that the almost camera-like micro-tics in the girl's eyes seemed to elude to. Root directories were opened, administrator access was requested and obtained, and while it looked like Urakawa was setting herself up for a deep dive along the file system, what she needed more or less sprang into her lap, nestled in the system's cached tasks.

Two keyholes protruded from the desk, with two Kensington keys still engaged in the locks. As for the console, it revealed something that looked like a modified NORAD situational map, the type you would've found with a live feed of incoming ICBMs. The difference was in how the cities listed weren't simply American ones - the latitude and longitude coordinates pointed to virtually every metropolis across the globe. Seeing this made the Lightbringer's teeth clench in a tight smile.

"Yes, we've got 'em! I tell ya, Nami; you're a regular Matthew Broderick, you are! This looks like a basic DOS shell running in a terminal window - you're still in Windows, looks like - so all we need is a code to disarm it all!"

In front of the desk, Allocer grunted again. "The code, Melchom, or I swear to whoever's going to smite me later on that I'll do even worse!"

It took a few protests and the deposed Duke pushing his broken horn almost up to the other's sternum for the bigger one to grimace and gasp. As he felt the bigger Knight was  starting to cave in, Lucifer nervously tapped on the desk. "Come on, come on... Hope's coordinates...
- Alpha, Sierra, Charlie... Echo, November, Charlie, India..."

Allocer punched Melchom again, once the older Knight looked about to pass out. "India, and what else?!
Oscar... November... Two-zero-four-eight."

Pushing the now-passed-out demon aside, Allocer also hurried around the desk. "ASCENSION2048 - try this now!"

Something bothered Lucifer, enough to have him place a hand over the keyboard. "Wait. What guarantee do we have that this is the actual password we need? What if it makes the Brimstone launchers decide protocol can fuck right off and just chuck everything they've got on Earth?"

Grunting, Allocer looked back down at the likely-dead commander. "We're in Hell, I didn't annihilate him - he'll be back eventually. If we didn't have lives on the line I'd suggest pulling up a chair and maybe going on a guided tour - but we're already losing millions of innocents as it is. It's the one passcode we've got, we're literally on the clock as we speak - we can't risk letting Nami brute-force her way through an encrypted system that's probably been engineered somewhere down here. Consider that this thing was designed so the Goat would use it, as well as the fact that he isn't likely to have let us a nice, clean and lovey-dovey escape clause!"

The Lightbringer ground his teeth together as other coordinate designations began to be listed as Launched, onscreen. Hope was still listed as Pending. Dublin, Kathmandu, Johannesburg and Brasilia were now all officially doomed.

A tense silence settled in. "I say we punch it in," said Allocer.

A look of pure defiance lingered on Lucifer's features - expectedly, perhaps - and he finally relented with a disgusted moue. "Your fucking funerals," he said, frustration practically dribbling from his words.

* * *

A hungry and perhaps somewhat salacious chuckle escaped the Broker, which was soon stopped by their allies exploiting the now-shrinking gap between both hills to effectively fly across the gold-stuffed void and slam into the remainder of the enemy forces. If Nami and the others had been outside, they would've heard the distant clamor of the enemy's Pit-based forward lines crumbling.

Seeing this from the terrestrial side, Melmoth felt his rising appetites be quelled by something more rational, if altogether just as pleasing. They were nearing the end, finally - hopefully for the last time. Still holding Abdiel's hand, he shrunk back down to human proportions and reassembled his physical form, perhaps unconsciously suggesting that Abdiel could rest her head against his shoulder if she wanted. His left hand encircled her waist and suggested vague rocking motions, as though they were a regular couple watching seagulls in the sky or taking in some fireworks. 

As the last of the Burning Legion's rear guard stepped through to deal a final affront to their former brethren, Melmoth couldn't resist parting with a wistful sigh.

"Score one for the good guys," he said, just as the Hell-based advance post on the other side of the portal seemingly collapsed, Melmoth almost treating it like a festival display of some kind.

"Goddamn," he said, "that was beautiful," he said. "I think I'll betray you just so I can betray them back and just put this on a loop for the next few centuries..."

He paused, scoffed and then shifted slightly, so he could directly look at her. "I've already thanked you before, but this is worth a fucking trophy, in my book. As serious as things still are, I feel like I gotta thank you for roping me into this."
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter VI - Asunder

Post by TennyoCeres84 »

Aislinn nodded and sighed wearily. "Hopefully so," she murmured as she pursed her lips. "Let's go."

***

Miranda tilted her head. "Everyone's suffered under the Goat's oppression, Rhadamantus, from thousands of years ago to just within the past weeks. I haven't lost my parents or my friends, thankfully. However, I feel robbed of just the basic, day-to-day routines I did. School, volleyball practice, helping my parents at The Last Round, and so on... My parents will have to rebuild our home."

She shifted the weight of the large folder and the items he had placed on top and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Your losses are just as important as everyone else's whom he's wronged. I understand why you feel the way you do."

The Fauness looked toward the door. "Tom seems fairly busy for the time being, so I won't be able to hand these off to him just yet. Is there anything else I can do to help you?"

***

"Judging by your description, Archie's there with his lover, Crystal Lowell. I can only assume there's a younger woman there with a similar scent. That'd be Andrea Lowell. The incursions must've separated them in another part of the city that had been under Allocer's control, so it's good that they were found. I've only been around the others a little bit. Erin Galbraith, or Ereshkigal by her older name, and Nergal. Ezemial turned against the Goat, so I can only assume he gained control of one of these Wardens you mentioned, after being secured by my friends. I know Matriel, the Water Throne, is also there because he informed me of your presence before our talk," Aspasia explained.

The satyress chuckled at the mention of a grilled cheese sandwich and then said, "As Erin stated, once you're rooted to this realm and there's no longer a war, we can meet each other. I can even have you meet my daughter, Miranda, if you wish. She's a teenager, so I don't know how you feel being around kids."

He'd could probably hear her shrug in both her tone and movements. "Once you open a portal for my friends, you can keep talking to me as long as you like. We can talk about whatever you want," she noted.

Another chuckle followed. "Oh yeah, explaining what a grilled cheese sandwich is a bit of quick and easy info, in case you're interested in learning more about this world. It's one or more pieces of cheese placed between two pieces of bread. That's taken and placed on a pan until the sides are cooked until they're golden brown. The cheese becomes gooey and develops a delicious texture. There's more elaborate versions of the dish, but that's the general idea of that kind of sandwich."

It would be rather obvious to see that she was trying to coax him into a longer conversation, but it was also apparent he could end the conversation if he wanted to, her leaving the matter as an open choice on his part.

***

Sophia nodded lightly at Claudia's statement and then turned her head to smile gently at the roane. "No, we usually don't for good reason. It's too risky to trust most people, with Ciaran being a rare exception."

The small bit of praise choked Ciaran up, her sentiment making it difficult to do what would come soon enough. "T-thank you," he answered, grasping her bark-covered hand in his callused ones and squeezing lightly.

He shuddered out a sigh and looked back up to her. "We haven't been together for very long, but I’ve enjoyed every moment we’ve had.”

He glanced back at Arthur and chuckled, “Our first date coincided with Tom receiving his staff, but we ended up going on a search after it was stolen from right under our noses. Thankfully afterward, Sophia and I were able to have some time to ourselves and have a meal. It definitely made the evening entertaining.”

“That wasn’t the last time our dates also involved solving some case or handling an issue. I remember a case whether there was some smuggling of Red Snow from the docks, and she and I traced it to a rendezvous point that was located at a less visited, isolated portion of the park. She was helpful when there was a debacle with a naiad affiliated with one of the tributaries connected to the Hillard. It was preventing ships from reaching their destinations.”

“The majority of our dates occurred at either of our apartments or elsewhere in the park, with the occasional outing to a movie theater. These have been fortunately uneventful, and they were quiet and intimate. These were the best times for us to get to know each other.”

“Those times are the best, yet also seldom. I’m not required to have my guard up, and that was refreshing. I can explore other aspects of life that dryads seldom get to… That was how our bond strengthened,” Sophia admitted, looking to the others and then back at the roane. By now, she couldn’t restrain the tears as much and nudged the sword away so she could lean forward to hug him tightly. He returned the embrace and comfortingly rubbed her back.

She reclined backwards and rested a hand on his chest. “That’s why I had no issue with giving you some of the Nexus’ power to awaken the greater abilities you had within you. I knew you wouldn’t abuse it, so I offered it to you directly, something I’ve never done for anyone else. Others, like Francis and Mayor Doherty, either gained it through a kiss or an embrace or the absorption of the arcane energies by resting in proximity to the Nexus.”

Ciaran kissed her lightly on the forehead. “I’m honored to have been given that trust.” She leaned into his touch, her tears dampening his hand. “You have done so very much, Ciaran. More than you know.”

***


Given that she was the one at the keyboard, Nami was under quite a bit of stress as she wiped some sweat from her brow. "Lucifer, to paraphrase somewhat, we're literally in a doomed if we do, doomed if we don't situation. Even if that Goat loses on the battlefield, he would probably have a backup to make sure he doesn't lose overall. He wants to rub it everyone's faces like the arrogant prick that he is. If this actually does stop the pillar, it's based on a extremely unlikely possibility that he has a minuscule sliver of compassion left in him."

"What does ascension even supposed to mean in this case? Is there any significance to the number 2048? Is it a year or just some random number?" she asked him. "What have you seen? How is Akoman affecting him to the point that it's led to this?"

***

Resting her head on his shoulder, Abdiel embraced him fondly. "I'm glad I brought you on board, too. Though, rather than betraying me so you can betray them, how about you just remain here in the moment and enjoy it for what it's worth?" she suggested with a light and amused scoff.

"Being in the present is more of a present than you realize, being what we are. Thank you for being at my side in this time and this place."
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