By the look of things, Three had hoped he'd have been proven wrong. Tom noticed Aidan's slightly discomfited look once he broke out of his spate of cautiousness, and gave the soldier a brief tap on his biceps.
"I get it; nobody goes around hoping former coworkers turn criminal, but we've been working with the Commission since the city's administration first fell, Aidan. The local scoundrels are some of the cleaner ones I've worked with in all my years, and Preston needed at least some form of support system. I don't see him surviving through all of this entirely on his lonesome, and the world was broken off into ciphers. We were all incommunicado for each other for months, remember?"
Three sighed. "I know, Tom. I just wished I could realistically assume he'd just pick up a badge again. Y'know, work with us like he used to."
Carrie gave her beau a steadying look. "I've seen shit since Gabriel cut me loose, Aid. I know you've got people who draw power out of concepts like democracy or the rule of law, but the foundations for these things got rocked about as hard as the world's via wells. It'll be a long while before we'll be free to avoid associating with law-breakers, and I'm not one to burn references on the off-chance that they might've done something stupid or illegal. Remember back when you thought you'd be a shoo-in for Military Police?"
Haraldson paused as he'd started to lower himself inside through his limo's rear passenger door. "The girl has a point, Herr Drake. Call it a code of honour or rules of engagement; most tend to mysteriously fade away as soon as annoying peccadilloes such as survival instinct or morality enter the fray."
Three pursed his lips together. "So what would you do if something forced us to go rogue, more or less? I mean, in the sense that we would've chosen to, not that the deciding instances would've been corrupted."
The Draugr's smile had a bit of a razor's edge to it. "One mark against me or my employees is noteworthy; almost deserving of respect. It signifies you've taken my measure and aren't to be taken lightly. A second one tells me you command the same respect in kind - I must measure you in kind and prepare adequately, while showing the same courtesy I would to a friend. Appearances to keep, of course - all in effort to maintain further bouts to mere politics, where no mortals might outwardly suffer from our exchanges."
A brief pause. "Come to me with a blade drawn all of three times, however?"
Haraldson's maintained warmth in his tone and his smile added to the grim finality of it all. "That, then, is enemy action. I would expect Hauser to take a snipe or two at your brand-new network architecture in the coming years - and I would treat them as friendly greetings of a sort. Add a honeypot or two - something to show him you've expected him."
Horatio seemed intrigued. "It seems to me as though you are expecting Hauser to do this, at some point.
- It's what I'd do," replied Travis Connor, from the other side of the limo's back seat. "Wouldn't want to work with former colleagues who would've sacrificed basic Infosec for the sake of faster onboarding - even if you're scared you might have other threats in the pipe. MammothOS's security layers are crap, and you aren't a Mom-and-Pop flower shop with a refurbished Pentium to serve as a NAS."
Archie's right eyebrow cocked up. "I'll admit to not being fully abreast of our data storage operations; we used to trust Hauser with the handling of our shared network drives. The mansion's destruction will have obliterated most of these old records, I imagine-"
Connor clicked his tongue. "Yeah, 'bout that... Aldergard had all your drives imaged and cloned on a bi-weekly basis. New boss made the policy weekly. We have everything. Tom's and Aislinn's old research, clones of Meris' own laptop drives - every report you've ever filed, every PDF you've saved, everything from Preston's own re-routed and containerized research on Vlastos. Every Google search, all of your browsing history. All of it scraped and encrypted. Untouched."
Archie looked incensed, but settled with a few finger taps on his cane's pommel. "Meaning?
- Meaning an outfit like yours has to count on never getting hacked, but Hauser's more dangerous than even Marius here ever was, in that respect. Fiber-optics guys will be laying out the last bits of cable during the inauguration, then we just SSH a little custom script to your central node and redistribute everything to your respective machines after decrypting it."
The rat's red optics focused on Marius. "'Cept you and Meris. You're both getting a burner Passport drive through FedEx, in a few days. Neither of you officially worked at Shield, but we felt your own documents warranted as much protection as Shield's."
Haraldson nodded at Marius. "I've worked with a fair few reformed villains in the past, Herr Vlastos. A change of heart may open new opportunities, but it never hurts to have an insurance policy you previously ignored the existence of. Nothing was accessed or consulted, but all checksums and file sizes have been validated."
Nereus seemed ill-at-ease. "I know this might seem hypocritical coming from someone like me, but I think you should've asked, first."
Horatio sniggered. "What, and lose an edge over Allocer's own former snoops, before the Esteemed Former Mayor turned a new leaf? No, the best defence involved keeping all parties unawares until peacetime. Besides, if Mister Connor here had been sneaky around your digital valuables, we wouldn't be having this charming curbside tête-à-tête."
It was Haraldson's turn to look mildly incensed. "How could you have planned for anything; you were under demonic influence! You were too depressed to so much as leave your office!"
Horatio's smile was too tight to be congenial, with tentacles flaring too widely to not contain a solid dose of menace. "A madman knows when he's slipping, my good sir - or at least, those like myself do so... I didn't need much to enact one of my own insurance policies, left for Alora to carry out just before Wrath's toadies tried to take my family away from me. A few wired payments later, and we had our own dead man's switch nestled in your own file system. If you'd read any of their files, we would've known about it..."
After another low and unsettling chuckle, Horatio Shadow-Walked into one of the shadows cast by the dime museum's entrance and re-appeared in Marius' own cast shadow, looping an arm around the vampire's shoulders.
"I might've had your number for a while, Marius old boy, but I'd also had your back, just as well. Or your backups, if you will!"
Haraldson's icy eyes were flaring, but the rat was seen adding a placating gesture, before giving the group a toothy grin. "Welp, that solves our redundancy concerns; and I'd sooner trust Horatio's vault than fucking Amazon Web Services. It's like Ciaran said - best decisions in the moment."
Chapter VII - Healing Pains
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IamLEAM1983
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains
Meris tiredly looked back and forth between Haraldson, Horatio, Aidan, and Connor and rested a hand on the large Void Weaver's shoulder. "Dear, unfortunately, hypocrisy is something that the likes of us will at least brush against from time to time," she admitted.
"Hopefully, we can clear the air of all these ominous what-ifs and digital subterfuge before we meet the new dryad. She'll have enough to handle without us dragging the mood down," Ciaran lightly groused.
The Heiress lightly scoffed. "You have a point," she replied. "I hope she'll have enough of a sturdy foundation to be able to hit the ground running, with as much as a load we'll be handing to her to carry."
"Hopefully, we can clear the air of all these ominous what-ifs and digital subterfuge before we meet the new dryad. She'll have enough to handle without us dragging the mood down," Ciaran lightly groused.
The Heiress lightly scoffed. "You have a point," she replied. "I hope she'll have enough of a sturdy foundation to be able to hit the ground running, with as much as a load we'll be handing to her to carry."
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Karl the Mad
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Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains
Marius gave Horatio a grateful nod, but pursed his lips. "If I'd known the news would be so dramatic, I would've brought it up earlier. Or not mentioned it at all," he said. "Either way, you're being unfair to him; it's because of me and my meddling that he feels comfortable among criminals at all. Maybe allow him a chance to explain himself in his own words, hm?"
Charles cleared his throat before speaking: "I'm with fangs here, yeah, gotta give the guy a chance after what he's done for us before, and what we've done for him." It was always a sign that he wanted to be taken seriously, when he bothered to speak straight. "If he's gonna be at the unveiling, let's look out for him there. Fat chance any number we'd have for him is up to date, considering how he is about phones."
"On that note, I'd expect him to still have all our contact info, as well," Marius added.
About twenty-five seconds later, all their phones dinged with incoming texts. They were from anonymous numbers, and merely consisted of the following:
;3
Any attempt to reply would show that whatever numbers had sent them had been disconnected, if they ever existed at all. "See what I mean?" Marius chuckled, scanning the area, wondering which random passerby with his or her nose to their devices had tipped Hauser off at that exact moment.
Charles cleared his throat before speaking: "I'm with fangs here, yeah, gotta give the guy a chance after what he's done for us before, and what we've done for him." It was always a sign that he wanted to be taken seriously, when he bothered to speak straight. "If he's gonna be at the unveiling, let's look out for him there. Fat chance any number we'd have for him is up to date, considering how he is about phones."
"On that note, I'd expect him to still have all our contact info, as well," Marius added.
About twenty-five seconds later, all their phones dinged with incoming texts. They were from anonymous numbers, and merely consisted of the following:
;3
Any attempt to reply would show that whatever numbers had sent them had been disconnected, if they ever existed at all. "See what I mean?" Marius chuckled, scanning the area, wondering which random passerby with his or her nose to their devices had tipped Hauser off at that exact moment.
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains
Carrie glanced down at Aidan's phone and smirked, looking back to the dime museum's rooftops. "Joke's on you," she told nobody in particular, "I just got here! Got no phone to hack!" she quipped, at a soft tone meant to convey her amusement without actually raising her voice to address whomsoever would've been close enough to push bespoke MMS and SMS packets in their direction. That made Haraldson spare the group one last smirk, after a self-sobering intake of air.
"I'll see you back on the mansion's front grounds," he said. "You can't miss the installation, the walrus couldn't know the meaning of the word discrete if we carved it across his forehead."
All menace had left Horatio, even as he landed another titter and cane swing. "Oh, we know," he said, looking as though he knew exactly what to expect.
* * *
A few minutes later, their respective rides had reached Holden Hall and its torn-down and replaced East wing. The new greenhouse waited behind a carefully-placed green curtain set on stage-grade I-beams, impossible to hide from the group's angle of approach, but still sufficiently blocked off to make glancing at the new dryad impossible. In front of the curtain waited a small platform equipped with one of City Hall's few multipurpose lecterns and dais, while a small patch of grass next to it had been upturned and replaced with Astroturf. The shovel lying next to the pedestal left little to the imagination: Doherty wanted to stage an official ground-breaking ceremony of sorts.
A few of those who hadn't attended the show currently milled about the front lawn, chatting amongst themselves. A vaguely familiar brown-haired woman in a power suit stood behind a trestle table and its tablecloth, handing out drinks and smiles. Her posture wasn't hard to parse for anyone with some combat prowess, however - Sigrun the Valkyrie wasn't just here to glandhand and hand out mimosas, Heaven likely wanted someone unobtrusive to keep an eye on things. Once they'd parked, Aidan frowned slightly at the sight of his family in the crowd. They'd never been the type to attend these sorts of things, and they certainly hadn't told him they'd planned on it. As you'd expect, however, a tinge of nervousness touched Carrie's features as she spotted them.
"Looks like I'm meeting the in-laws, huh?
- Yeah," noted Drake, who seemed more perplexed than worried. "Can't be much worse than a Kandahar foxhole, right?"
The lieutenant smiled at that, but concern never quite left her eyes. She'd been worried that Heaven wouldn't onboard all those involved properly enough, and the last thing she wanted was to add awkwardness to the proceedings...
"I'm hamburger meat, to these people," she almost whispered. "How are they going to take to this?"
Three pursed his lips together. "Only one way to find out..."
In the meantime, Wormsworth had Tom and Aislinn on speakerphone, and had used the ride back to develop his rather sedate concerns.
"We'll all agree that we've more than effectively rocked the boat," he stated, his usual syrupy tones sounding a bit tinny over the single speaker. "I daresay we've capsized it, dragged it to shore and stuck wheels and an engine onto it. Now we've weaponized Soulborn in our midst, and I don't quite see this ending well for Gabriel, if I'm entirely honest. It's enough that a facilitator such as I was before I met you all ended up being crowned Prince of Pride, now we've dead people skipping even the unpleasant sorts of reanimation, for which my neighbours upstairs inexplicably have some tolerance!"
Tom sighed. "I know, Herbert; and I'm expecting our friend Uriel to stamp his foot down anytime soon, to be honest. Hell's thrown its tantrum and got egg in its face, so it's usually at that point that the more zealous in the Host end up wondering how they can one-up the latest Princely upstart..."
The Pride demon sighed. "I'm starting to think that bringing all the sensible ones from the Host down here couldn't have been the best idea imaginable - this is one reception in dire need of some golden-locked idiot's pontifications on matters they know little about..."
Randolph and Spector were seen respectively ambling and slithering up the front lawn, stopping to greet the little motorcade. Strangely enough, the Judge seemed to single out Jenkins and even opened his car's door for him.
"Ah, good, mister Jenkins - it might be strange coming from someone in my position, but you're exactly the man I wished to speak to. I've shared some, er, concerns with Aislinn and Aidan, and I thought it might behoove us to have you filled in..."
He then seemed to realize that his approach could've been misconstrued, and steepled his fingers together. "Rest assured, we're not worried about yourself per se, but what is worrying us is something that requires, well - a man of action, let's say. I would have involved Meris and Nereus as well, but I thought it more prudent to give them a few hours of relative conjugal bliss, before they both dive back into the thick of things..."
"I'll see you back on the mansion's front grounds," he said. "You can't miss the installation, the walrus couldn't know the meaning of the word discrete if we carved it across his forehead."
All menace had left Horatio, even as he landed another titter and cane swing. "Oh, we know," he said, looking as though he knew exactly what to expect.
* * *
A few minutes later, their respective rides had reached Holden Hall and its torn-down and replaced East wing. The new greenhouse waited behind a carefully-placed green curtain set on stage-grade I-beams, impossible to hide from the group's angle of approach, but still sufficiently blocked off to make glancing at the new dryad impossible. In front of the curtain waited a small platform equipped with one of City Hall's few multipurpose lecterns and dais, while a small patch of grass next to it had been upturned and replaced with Astroturf. The shovel lying next to the pedestal left little to the imagination: Doherty wanted to stage an official ground-breaking ceremony of sorts.
A few of those who hadn't attended the show currently milled about the front lawn, chatting amongst themselves. A vaguely familiar brown-haired woman in a power suit stood behind a trestle table and its tablecloth, handing out drinks and smiles. Her posture wasn't hard to parse for anyone with some combat prowess, however - Sigrun the Valkyrie wasn't just here to glandhand and hand out mimosas, Heaven likely wanted someone unobtrusive to keep an eye on things. Once they'd parked, Aidan frowned slightly at the sight of his family in the crowd. They'd never been the type to attend these sorts of things, and they certainly hadn't told him they'd planned on it. As you'd expect, however, a tinge of nervousness touched Carrie's features as she spotted them.
"Looks like I'm meeting the in-laws, huh?
- Yeah," noted Drake, who seemed more perplexed than worried. "Can't be much worse than a Kandahar foxhole, right?"
The lieutenant smiled at that, but concern never quite left her eyes. She'd been worried that Heaven wouldn't onboard all those involved properly enough, and the last thing she wanted was to add awkwardness to the proceedings...
"I'm hamburger meat, to these people," she almost whispered. "How are they going to take to this?"
Three pursed his lips together. "Only one way to find out..."
In the meantime, Wormsworth had Tom and Aislinn on speakerphone, and had used the ride back to develop his rather sedate concerns.
"We'll all agree that we've more than effectively rocked the boat," he stated, his usual syrupy tones sounding a bit tinny over the single speaker. "I daresay we've capsized it, dragged it to shore and stuck wheels and an engine onto it. Now we've weaponized Soulborn in our midst, and I don't quite see this ending well for Gabriel, if I'm entirely honest. It's enough that a facilitator such as I was before I met you all ended up being crowned Prince of Pride, now we've dead people skipping even the unpleasant sorts of reanimation, for which my neighbours upstairs inexplicably have some tolerance!"
Tom sighed. "I know, Herbert; and I'm expecting our friend Uriel to stamp his foot down anytime soon, to be honest. Hell's thrown its tantrum and got egg in its face, so it's usually at that point that the more zealous in the Host end up wondering how they can one-up the latest Princely upstart..."
The Pride demon sighed. "I'm starting to think that bringing all the sensible ones from the Host down here couldn't have been the best idea imaginable - this is one reception in dire need of some golden-locked idiot's pontifications on matters they know little about..."
Randolph and Spector were seen respectively ambling and slithering up the front lawn, stopping to greet the little motorcade. Strangely enough, the Judge seemed to single out Jenkins and even opened his car's door for him.
"Ah, good, mister Jenkins - it might be strange coming from someone in my position, but you're exactly the man I wished to speak to. I've shared some, er, concerns with Aislinn and Aidan, and I thought it might behoove us to have you filled in..."
He then seemed to realize that his approach could've been misconstrued, and steepled his fingers together. "Rest assured, we're not worried about yourself per se, but what is worrying us is something that requires, well - a man of action, let's say. I would have involved Meris and Nereus as well, but I thought it more prudent to give them a few hours of relative conjugal bliss, before they both dive back into the thick of things..."
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains
The selkies and the Fauness looked at their respective phones as they dinged or jingled from the text message notifications and chuckled or scoffed in amusement. Knowing the chances of one of Hauser's informants being nearby was likely, none of them bothered to look around.
Aislinn commented in agreement with Charles, "We're giving him the benefit of the doubt until we can talk with him directly. There's no use in pointing fingers at him for no reason."
"We'll find out soon enough," Ciaran added, as he headed back to the vehicle he and the others had come in.
***
"The Thrones have been doing their best to handle the upheaval that happened during the War," Aislinn noted with a click of her tongue. "Ariel did slip back to Heaven to watch out for Goldilocks and let them know if he was up to anything. Matriel and Abdiel stayed here to teach Cuthbert what he needed to know as the new Metal Throne, so he wouldn't end up throwing Creation for a loop by accident."
"Besides the two Soulborn we have running around, I somehow doubt Uriel would be thrilled with the idea of the two of the newest Thrones being a Void Weaver and the other a Nephilim. He's probably too picky as to how angels should be created in the first place," she lightly snarked.
"With the Choosing coming up, there's a chance Matriel might be hanging around before he'll need to head off to London with Hanako. If Melmoth's attending the ceremony, Abdiel probably won't be far behind either," she added, glancing at the car window to see the said angel and Malk walking across the lawn.
"Yeah, they're here, so we have at least one of the major players here to make sure this isn't a complete disaster. Can't speak for whatever Doherty's got planned, though."
Aislinn commented in agreement with Charles, "We're giving him the benefit of the doubt until we can talk with him directly. There's no use in pointing fingers at him for no reason."
"We'll find out soon enough," Ciaran added, as he headed back to the vehicle he and the others had come in.
***
"The Thrones have been doing their best to handle the upheaval that happened during the War," Aislinn noted with a click of her tongue. "Ariel did slip back to Heaven to watch out for Goldilocks and let them know if he was up to anything. Matriel and Abdiel stayed here to teach Cuthbert what he needed to know as the new Metal Throne, so he wouldn't end up throwing Creation for a loop by accident."
"Besides the two Soulborn we have running around, I somehow doubt Uriel would be thrilled with the idea of the two of the newest Thrones being a Void Weaver and the other a Nephilim. He's probably too picky as to how angels should be created in the first place," she lightly snarked.
"With the Choosing coming up, there's a chance Matriel might be hanging around before he'll need to head off to London with Hanako. If Melmoth's attending the ceremony, Abdiel probably won't be far behind either," she added, glancing at the car window to see the said angel and Malk walking across the lawn.
"Yeah, they're here, so we have at least one of the major players here to make sure this isn't a complete disaster. Can't speak for whatever Doherty's got planned, though."
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Karl the Mad
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Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains
While Marius was content to dash off on foot, Charles left in his car, following the others and parking behind them. The approach of the Judge gave him pause, but he smirked easily enough in response to his words. "Man a' action, 'at's me," he agreed jovially. "I gots plans a' me own comin' up, but what'cha needin'?"
With all the angelic heavy hitters in attendance, it was stupid to try anything, but Marius kept an eye open anyway. He amused himself by examining the attendees, wondering which of them were Hauser's goons. There, that one, that suit is too new and he's got a bad haircut, the Noise whispered as he zeroed in on a particularly awkward man in a cheap but brand new suit. And that woman over there, same thing, and he looked over at an alarmingly thin lady who wore a knee-length skirt and blouse more appropriate for an office than an informal party. Both of them seemed as if they'd been very recently homeless, too.
Perhaps one in five of the party-goers had that same look to them, of being just a little too-freshly prepared or wearing slightly too-cheap and too-new outfits. They all had cheap phones shoved into their pockets too, probably burners, and Marius knew if he hadn't been looking specifically for them, he likely wouldn't have noticed them at all.
Across the lawn, a familiar figure was approaching Three and Carrie. "Mr Drake, remember me?" the man said, offering his hand with a smile. He was tall, had an ex-military air, light brown hair and hazel eyes. "From the thing with the Alexandria vaults, remember? Tristan Mallory?" He leaned in a little closer. "Hauser's gonna poke his head in soon, I think. Not sure exactly when, of course, you know how he is..."
With all the angelic heavy hitters in attendance, it was stupid to try anything, but Marius kept an eye open anyway. He amused himself by examining the attendees, wondering which of them were Hauser's goons. There, that one, that suit is too new and he's got a bad haircut, the Noise whispered as he zeroed in on a particularly awkward man in a cheap but brand new suit. And that woman over there, same thing, and he looked over at an alarmingly thin lady who wore a knee-length skirt and blouse more appropriate for an office than an informal party. Both of them seemed as if they'd been very recently homeless, too.
Perhaps one in five of the party-goers had that same look to them, of being just a little too-freshly prepared or wearing slightly too-cheap and too-new outfits. They all had cheap phones shoved into their pockets too, probably burners, and Marius knew if he hadn't been looking specifically for them, he likely wouldn't have noticed them at all.
Across the lawn, a familiar figure was approaching Three and Carrie. "Mr Drake, remember me?" the man said, offering his hand with a smile. He was tall, had an ex-military air, light brown hair and hazel eyes. "From the thing with the Alexandria vaults, remember? Tristan Mallory?" He leaned in a little closer. "Hauser's gonna poke his head in soon, I think. Not sure exactly when, of course, you know how he is..."
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains
Wormsworth didn't respond, and his phone was heard clicking off. Tom didn't seem concerned, however, as they'd all parked and could continue chatting directly, if they cared to. Herbert approached them as he walked up the front lawn, pocketing his phone as he did.
"To top it off," said the Prince, "Pride's very nature has changed significantly."
Tom couldn't repress a smirk. "How so very humble of you...
- Oh, but I am being humble!" lightly protested the Prince. "Not every dryad makes its way across the solar system's expanse of cosmic radiation unscathed, and even the single ones established on Mars and Luna have needed to adapt. So many natural forces just so happen to play havoc with DNA that it's a wonder that beings as complex as Nexus guardians could even find a node away from Earth - much less thrive in it."
Tom's smirk didn't fade. "But you'd still contend to be superior to the Goat, I'd imagine.
- Vastly superior," replied Wormsworth, adding deliberate snobbishness to his tone, along with a wink. "I do so well with Pride, in fact, that I don't need to corrupt mortals. I do the same work I did before earning Princedom, the difference being that mortals corrupt themselves, and that my taking them on as clients is only the first part of their earned penance. Play your cards right, and this Prince commutes your eternal damnation to the much-more-palatable definition of life imprisonment as defined my this country's laws. Or whatever works, honestly. A few decades, years, court-ordered therapy or community service..."
Shined leather shoes and slight plumes of cigar smoke approached the group. "With all due respect, Councillor," noted Weasel, "you've tamed the heat - but not the kitchen, in a sorta sense. In a lotta ways, a low-rank fledgeling tryin'a peddle Red Snow does a lot more immediate harm than the types Melmoth an' yourself usually wrangle."
Herbert softly clicked his tongue. "Ah, but who should come forth on this most auspicious of days but the one local soul whose Pride I see blazing like a beacon. How kind of you to discuss moral semantics with a being born of a darker Plane."
Biggs shrugged, opting to take to the barb literally. "Just tellin' it like it is, Worms. You don't nuke Godzilla without scarin' the other big cheeses away for a while - but the small fry hurt just as bad. Just, y'know, differently."
Tom shrugged as well, his own gesture almost imperceptible. "Escorts, designer cocktails, ritzy restaurants and tax evasion... I'd etch a look of moral outrage, but we just defeated a being of primordial evil and I smuggled six bodies into America semi-legally to give my friends shells to inhabit. Glass houses, mister Biggs. I don't throw stones at someone I fought with on the same side."
The mustelid grinned sharkishly. "Moral relativism, Esquire," he said, teasing Herbert. "Y'could take a lesson, like what the kid picked up on her way back here."
The demon looked puzzled, which amused the mafioso. Hands were pushed into pockets and Biggs rocked back on his soles for a few seconds, taking in the stage and the other arriving dignitaries. "Little birds got to chirping on Expat BBSes - morons tried to buy our dryad off of a Fae Lord and Lady," he stated, the absurdity of it making his grin widen and his shoulders shake as he kept his chuckles quiet.
That thawed whatever frost had settled between Weasel and Herbert, the demon rolling his eyes in approval. "And to think we spent millions over the eighties in trying to educate Paradise on our own customs; as if one could safely barter with the Fae outside of Earth's gravity well..."
Tom gave Aislinn and Ciaran a grin. "I would've loved to be a fly on that wall, when that happened... Eirean and Vernon would make an Archangel pack up and run, when they're properly motivated."
* * *
Three very briefly looked confused, before recognition cleared up his features. He grinned and shook Mallory's hand. "Hey, Tristan! Wow, the vaults - feels like it all happened a lifetime ago!" he said, adding a slight chuckle. Still, the thief's delivered news made him rubberneck a bit. "It's been too long and he's resourceful; I doubt I'd be able to ping him right off the bat - but hey, I'm glad to hear that he's alright!"
* * *
Mantus gestured in reassurance. "Oh, I doubt our timetables will intersect, this is more of a long-term concern of Aislinn and I's..."
By his gestures, it was obvious the dragon-faced demon wanted to walk or slither away from the group a ways or so, and that he hoped Charles would walk beside him. Once this was established, he let a few seconds pass to be sure they wouldn't be within earshot.
"I worry about Tom," he then said. "I've shown a body of evidence to Aislinn as to our friend and one of my makers having potentially... violated the Black Goat. I wish I were referring to mere molestation, it would fit an incubus' profile and like it or not, this is what Tom is and I do see how one could want to visit degrading acts upon our enemy - but I'm afraid that what is left of him in Chimera Row is a wretch of sorts, a being diminished in all ways one can imagine. I wanted to tell you to watch out for both yourself and, well, the rest of us - as there is one proof I lack. His motive I can suss out - he likely wanted to weaken Pride and ensure no other demon of the same Vice could ever attempt this again, but-"
Matus swallowed hard. "I was made to Judge the Goat. Every mortal court has already delivered his verdict on him since the world was liberated - all but my own. All but Immanent justice. If Due Process is not completed and if the Goat's case is never properly closed, the supernatural realm won't touch the closure that the mortal world so quickly worked towards.
There is a man I've contacted, a jeweler I can trust. He could tell me if Pride's crown is complete - or if Tom could've taken a gem for himself. The problem is it's now innate to Herbert's nature, except when his guard is lowered, or at night, when he sleeps. I can't ask Aidan or Aislinn, they're too close for comfort. The Hauser boy could be of assistance, or Marianna Jameson - but only you were within reach at present. I can't be seen acting in our interests in these matters, I couldn't physically bring myself to lift Pride's Crown if I tried, as Due Process states that it belongs to Herbert Wormsworth, now.
The Judicator stopped, close to the rear end of the greenhouse. He glanced about, to ensure that no-one either inside or out of the construct could see or hear them.
"Mister Jenkins - could you or would you steal from a Prince, for the greater good?"
"To top it off," said the Prince, "Pride's very nature has changed significantly."
Tom couldn't repress a smirk. "How so very humble of you...
- Oh, but I am being humble!" lightly protested the Prince. "Not every dryad makes its way across the solar system's expanse of cosmic radiation unscathed, and even the single ones established on Mars and Luna have needed to adapt. So many natural forces just so happen to play havoc with DNA that it's a wonder that beings as complex as Nexus guardians could even find a node away from Earth - much less thrive in it."
Tom's smirk didn't fade. "But you'd still contend to be superior to the Goat, I'd imagine.
- Vastly superior," replied Wormsworth, adding deliberate snobbishness to his tone, along with a wink. "I do so well with Pride, in fact, that I don't need to corrupt mortals. I do the same work I did before earning Princedom, the difference being that mortals corrupt themselves, and that my taking them on as clients is only the first part of their earned penance. Play your cards right, and this Prince commutes your eternal damnation to the much-more-palatable definition of life imprisonment as defined my this country's laws. Or whatever works, honestly. A few decades, years, court-ordered therapy or community service..."
Shined leather shoes and slight plumes of cigar smoke approached the group. "With all due respect, Councillor," noted Weasel, "you've tamed the heat - but not the kitchen, in a sorta sense. In a lotta ways, a low-rank fledgeling tryin'a peddle Red Snow does a lot more immediate harm than the types Melmoth an' yourself usually wrangle."
Herbert softly clicked his tongue. "Ah, but who should come forth on this most auspicious of days but the one local soul whose Pride I see blazing like a beacon. How kind of you to discuss moral semantics with a being born of a darker Plane."
Biggs shrugged, opting to take to the barb literally. "Just tellin' it like it is, Worms. You don't nuke Godzilla without scarin' the other big cheeses away for a while - but the small fry hurt just as bad. Just, y'know, differently."
Tom shrugged as well, his own gesture almost imperceptible. "Escorts, designer cocktails, ritzy restaurants and tax evasion... I'd etch a look of moral outrage, but we just defeated a being of primordial evil and I smuggled six bodies into America semi-legally to give my friends shells to inhabit. Glass houses, mister Biggs. I don't throw stones at someone I fought with on the same side."
The mustelid grinned sharkishly. "Moral relativism, Esquire," he said, teasing Herbert. "Y'could take a lesson, like what the kid picked up on her way back here."
The demon looked puzzled, which amused the mafioso. Hands were pushed into pockets and Biggs rocked back on his soles for a few seconds, taking in the stage and the other arriving dignitaries. "Little birds got to chirping on Expat BBSes - morons tried to buy our dryad off of a Fae Lord and Lady," he stated, the absurdity of it making his grin widen and his shoulders shake as he kept his chuckles quiet.
That thawed whatever frost had settled between Weasel and Herbert, the demon rolling his eyes in approval. "And to think we spent millions over the eighties in trying to educate Paradise on our own customs; as if one could safely barter with the Fae outside of Earth's gravity well..."
Tom gave Aislinn and Ciaran a grin. "I would've loved to be a fly on that wall, when that happened... Eirean and Vernon would make an Archangel pack up and run, when they're properly motivated."
* * *
Three very briefly looked confused, before recognition cleared up his features. He grinned and shook Mallory's hand. "Hey, Tristan! Wow, the vaults - feels like it all happened a lifetime ago!" he said, adding a slight chuckle. Still, the thief's delivered news made him rubberneck a bit. "It's been too long and he's resourceful; I doubt I'd be able to ping him right off the bat - but hey, I'm glad to hear that he's alright!"
* * *
Mantus gestured in reassurance. "Oh, I doubt our timetables will intersect, this is more of a long-term concern of Aislinn and I's..."
By his gestures, it was obvious the dragon-faced demon wanted to walk or slither away from the group a ways or so, and that he hoped Charles would walk beside him. Once this was established, he let a few seconds pass to be sure they wouldn't be within earshot.
"I worry about Tom," he then said. "I've shown a body of evidence to Aislinn as to our friend and one of my makers having potentially... violated the Black Goat. I wish I were referring to mere molestation, it would fit an incubus' profile and like it or not, this is what Tom is and I do see how one could want to visit degrading acts upon our enemy - but I'm afraid that what is left of him in Chimera Row is a wretch of sorts, a being diminished in all ways one can imagine. I wanted to tell you to watch out for both yourself and, well, the rest of us - as there is one proof I lack. His motive I can suss out - he likely wanted to weaken Pride and ensure no other demon of the same Vice could ever attempt this again, but-"
Matus swallowed hard. "I was made to Judge the Goat. Every mortal court has already delivered his verdict on him since the world was liberated - all but my own. All but Immanent justice. If Due Process is not completed and if the Goat's case is never properly closed, the supernatural realm won't touch the closure that the mortal world so quickly worked towards.
There is a man I've contacted, a jeweler I can trust. He could tell me if Pride's crown is complete - or if Tom could've taken a gem for himself. The problem is it's now innate to Herbert's nature, except when his guard is lowered, or at night, when he sleeps. I can't ask Aidan or Aislinn, they're too close for comfort. The Hauser boy could be of assistance, or Marianna Jameson - but only you were within reach at present. I can't be seen acting in our interests in these matters, I couldn't physically bring myself to lift Pride's Crown if I tried, as Due Process states that it belongs to Herbert Wormsworth, now.
The Judicator stopped, close to the rear end of the greenhouse. He glanced about, to ensure that no-one either inside or out of the construct could see or hear them.
"Mister Jenkins - could you or would you steal from a Prince, for the greater good?"
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains
Aislinn chuckled. "Yeah, that's for sure. Must've been some rubes not used to Fae and thought they could swindle her out from under their noses with enough money," she replied.
Ciaran seemed lightly perturbed at the thought of some merchants trying to purchase the dryad as a commodity, but he brushed past the thought, as the situation had already been handled. "Of course they did. That's why I think the new dryad won't be a slouch and will be capable. She's had some excellent teachers to learn from, after all."
His sister grinned at the possibility. "Seems likely. I'm really looking forward to meeting her!"
The young man smiled, a bit more somberly compared to her, but he nodded in agreement. "Same. Maybe we can hear the story straight from the source."
Ciaran seemed lightly perturbed at the thought of some merchants trying to purchase the dryad as a commodity, but he brushed past the thought, as the situation had already been handled. "Of course they did. That's why I think the new dryad won't be a slouch and will be capable. She's had some excellent teachers to learn from, after all."
His sister grinned at the possibility. "Seems likely. I'm really looking forward to meeting her!"
The young man smiled, a bit more somberly compared to her, but he nodded in agreement. "Same. Maybe we can hear the story straight from the source."
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Karl the Mad
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Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains
Tristan nodded. "Things were rough around here, what with the old Boss running away to Mars before the demons came. I was cut off from my savings and Hauser found me, led me underground. Me and a lot of other people too..."
He reached out and snagged a bottle of beer, popping the top and sipping from it. "I dunno if you know this, but he's part of this, like, network around Hope, yeah? All sorts of absolute weirdos too, from guys like me to hedge mages and supes. He tried getting away from it for a while, when he got that big AC company back, but that didn't last very long; I guess he got too used to being in the shadows, or something."
His phone dinged, and he pulled it out. "Psh." He showed the message to Three: stfu "It's always a blocked number, but you know it's him."
"Glad to see you're doing okay for yourself, Mallory," Marius said, appearing from the crowd. "You know you can come back any time, right? I'm back in control and going more legitimate every day."
"...yeah, maybe," the human admitted, rubbing the back of his neck and looking embarrassed. "I dunno, keeping in touch with you is part of what Hauser keeps me around for, I think."
Marius rolled his eyes, then focused on Three. "I'm doing my best not to eavesdrop on Jenkins and Mantus, you know. Considering how many people have supernatural senses here today, I wonder how serious they are about keeping their little meeting secret?" he said telepathically, clearly communicating the thoughts in less than a second.
Back in the greenhouse, Jenkins had a somber expression as he listened to the Judge. "Could I? Not by meself... Would I? I dunno, man, awful lot on the line if shit goes south..." He too glanced around, his thoughts coincidentally the same as Vlastos' right then. "I never was much fer all that Greater Good shit, you know, but... hell, I guess I gotta give it a shot, at least?"
In the background, a white van with city maintenance markings drove up, and three men climbed out after it parked. They all had sunglasses and reflective vests on, and ballcaps pulled low to keep the sun away. Vests and caps all had the logo of the city maintenance department, and one of the men had a clipboard at the ready. They skirted the edge of the gathering, making for the lectern.
He reached out and snagged a bottle of beer, popping the top and sipping from it. "I dunno if you know this, but he's part of this, like, network around Hope, yeah? All sorts of absolute weirdos too, from guys like me to hedge mages and supes. He tried getting away from it for a while, when he got that big AC company back, but that didn't last very long; I guess he got too used to being in the shadows, or something."
His phone dinged, and he pulled it out. "Psh." He showed the message to Three: stfu "It's always a blocked number, but you know it's him."
"Glad to see you're doing okay for yourself, Mallory," Marius said, appearing from the crowd. "You know you can come back any time, right? I'm back in control and going more legitimate every day."
"...yeah, maybe," the human admitted, rubbing the back of his neck and looking embarrassed. "I dunno, keeping in touch with you is part of what Hauser keeps me around for, I think."
Marius rolled his eyes, then focused on Three. "I'm doing my best not to eavesdrop on Jenkins and Mantus, you know. Considering how many people have supernatural senses here today, I wonder how serious they are about keeping their little meeting secret?" he said telepathically, clearly communicating the thoughts in less than a second.
Back in the greenhouse, Jenkins had a somber expression as he listened to the Judge. "Could I? Not by meself... Would I? I dunno, man, awful lot on the line if shit goes south..." He too glanced around, his thoughts coincidentally the same as Vlastos' right then. "I never was much fer all that Greater Good shit, you know, but... hell, I guess I gotta give it a shot, at least?"
In the background, a white van with city maintenance markings drove up, and three men climbed out after it parked. They all had sunglasses and reflective vests on, and ballcaps pulled low to keep the sun away. Vests and caps all had the logo of the city maintenance department, and one of the men had a clipboard at the ready. They skirted the edge of the gathering, making for the lectern.
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter VII - Healing Pains
More or less following Ciaran’s indirect suggestion, Tom headed for the small stage. The event was public, so a fair few common citizens had gathered as well. It took a few moments for Magnus to find what he was looking for in the throng, which happened to be a particular shock of red hair and an unmistakable lilac-tinted gibus. Neither of them were exactly in sight, but he gave Aislinn a grin before dipping out of sight, right next to the newly-constructed wing that connected to the greenhouse.
A few impish taps of his staff on the building’s bricks served to break the couple’s amorous trance. Their ward had been left with a few books and a tablet to keep her occupied until her cue would sound, and the dryad’s guardians had seemingly been unable to resist the allure of a few minutes’ worth of privacy. Their combined Mantles created air-pressure eddies that made the last of spring’s debris roll around the lawn at their feet, and they had the look and attitude of a young couple feverishly petting each other. Vernon looked like he’d been sweating profusely, but no untoward scent rose forth. It had to be Eirean’s own Mantle, then, melting off the frost that formed on the Winter Lord’s skin and clothes under the effects of arousal.
The Warlock lightly cleared his throat. “I’m glad to see spring fever’s caught on for the local aristocrats, but we have a number of potential lookie-loos…”
That seemed to break Haskill out of a long exploratory session of Eirean’s mouth, which elicited a groan of disappointment from the businesswoman. The Winter Lord looked just about murderous for a split-second - likely his Mantle not reacting well to their interruption - before ice left his features and concern returned to them.
“My days,” he lightly swore, “Mister Magnus! You’ll have to accept our apology for this display,” he explained, carefully pushing Eirean away and then moving to resettle his pie-tailed jacket into place, “we’ve been back here for a few days now, but had channels to re-establish, as you can imagine. Our trip back was eventful and even if we didn’t lack opportunities to bond, well…”
Tom smiled. “I get it; kid’s all grown-up now; eighteen years in a pocket dimension would be a test of any relationship. You’ve got friends waiting for the full story, though, if you’ll maybe creep out of your foxhole for a few minutes.”
Eirean smiled a bit more curtly as she tried to put her power jacket and blouse back in order, and briefly rubbernecked around for her misplaced pumps. “I know, I’m sorry too, Tom. With the baby kicking again after what’s technically eighteen years in stasis, I guess there’s a little more of me to handle than usual. Now, it’s Alex that’ll get to play the role of older sibling.”
This seemed to surprise Tom. “It’s expressing itself as male? Cases like Greene are already rare for dryads-”
The smile on the red-haired woman brightened. “It’s a diminutive, actually. Leave it to Vernon to absolutely want to wax Classical when it comes to naming a dryad.
- Well I, for one, think Alastriona is a lovely name,” noted the Winter Lord. “I would spare with the decorum, but you know how our dear mayor is with these things. Some poor PR nerd is in there with her now,” said Vernon, who jerked his neck at the greenhouse, “trying to keep her occupied with the minutiae of a teenaged plant spirit having a space the size of a large Parisian studio all to herself… The concept of the Internet was of some interest to her, I imagine she’ll be racking up social network followers in a few short hours…”
Tom chuckled agreeably at that. “Let’s not keep Aislinn and Ciaran waiting, though; I just ducked out of their view a few moments ago,” he said, then raising his voice as he came back into Aislinn and Ciaran’s combined fields of view. “Found them!” he shouted, smiling and raising his staff so as to stand out a bit more. That done, he approached the two selkies and mustelid.
“Let’s just say they were, um, otherwise occupied,” he quipped. “I’m guessing a few days of playing catch-up with Evergloam’s paper-pushers got on their nerves and they both figured they could do with some tension-release exercises in, um, dubious privacy.”
Weasel’s cackles were soft, but suggested he knew exactly what this involved. “Yep, I still occasionally have to act all flustered, whenever ‘onna my calls catches Silve in bed when she ain’t usually there…”
Herbert didn’t seem surprised. “I briefly courted a banshee in the first few of my Minor Aspect days. An absolute head-rush on all fronts, but not an ideal match for a relative pacifist from Pride. The Black Goat’s version of the Bar Exam was grueling, and I preferred studying to turning a bedroom into a crime scene out of sheer passion.”
A few steps behind, an unmistakable glow still hung over both aristocrats, even if the aftereffects of their Mantles had since faded. Only genuine smiles and a tiny bit of exhaustion remained. “Good day to you three,” said Vernon, nodding to the group, “it’s good to see the city in such lively spirits, considering the state in which we left it. It’s even better to see you well, of course.”
***
Three glanced in the greenhouse’s direction, briefly allowing himself a smirk at the sight of Rhadamantus trying his best to conspire with the first relatively shifty sort he’d spotted that he’d known to be reliable. The soldier piped his own thoughts back through the Lexicon as fast as Marius had sent his.
“I wouldn’t pin this on Jenkins, he would’ve been more subtle - nevermind his usual critics. Randolph just isn’t used to keeping things on the down-low or initiating side-projects - he isn’t like you or me. This just means he’s looking to spare someone he’s close to from something he’s working on, and that he probably can’t do much on his own.”
To illustrate his point, Drake sent Vlastos the image of Mantus gripping Pride’s Crown on some sort of dais, and straining fruitlessly as he tried to pick up the ostentatious mark of power.
“He’s running on Due Process, the concept of Justice being properly meted out according to supernatural tenets, and the Goat’s therapist has a four-hour mind blank he can’t account for, which is unusual for a Karthian. Mantus knows we still have a few casefiles floating around and he wouldn’t want to sully either mine or Aislinn’s hands - we’re supposed to carry out Justice and we don’t have a fully-formed understanding of what happened, much less a suspect. Rhadamantus can’t do what he was made to do - which is prosecute the Goat - and it’s probably more intrinsically annoying to him than any case of stonewalling Ephesian or Wormsworth would’ve worked with before.”
A brief pause. “As for the Goat, well…”
Aidan then sent Marius a short subjective clip made up of his penultimate visit to Chimera Row, and of a few seconds of the most recent one. In the first one, the soot-faced caprine demon was sitting forward on his cell’s bench, wearing ill-fitting prison slacks.
“You held my prize,” the Goat had sneered, “ripped it from me with your alien gifts - and gave it to a pencil-pusher. This insult demands reparation, mortal, and I shall mete it on all you’ve ever loved, everyone you’ve ever held dear. In the end, Aidan Drake, you will beg me to-”
Three had cut him off, his tone blazé. “Okay, so no change there, I see. Welp, here go all my hopeful theories about you maturing a bit if you were completely cut off from your source - damn shame. I was hoping we’d have a constructive conversation, one of these days.”
In the back, the therapist was heard sighing. “This isn’t quite the same as textbook narcissism, mister Drake. This being was made from the ground up to embody noxious vanity; only we mortals can aspire to be handily forged and altered by our circumstances, and only especially terrestrial immortals, such as the Fae or vampires, can overcome thousands of years of bad habits. I’m paid to butt up against him day in and out and my species is immune to base manipulation, but neither aspects could ever guarantee a concrete recovery plan.”
The soldier had sighed. “This isn’t about recovery, it’s about adequate processing. I don’t give a shit if he never apologizes, he just needs to realize he was always alone in his corner. The only ones left who haven’t turned civvie or returned to Hell are those who can’t take a hint.”
The Karthian nodded in agreement. “Yes, like this Grishnakhal fellow. I’ve heard of him conducting raids against Lucifer’s new treatment compounds.”
The conversation was cut off as the memory shifted to a more recent one, that of the Black Goat recoiling in a corner of his cell, eyes almost impossibly wide, his frame shaking with abject terror. His jumpsuit was soiled now, and puddles of urine and wads of fecal matter could be seen strewn along the floor. The demon had apparently screamed itself past hoarseness, and had no sound to produce as it pointed to Aidan’s perspective as if the soldier had been some sort of nightmarish creature bearing down on him. The therapist’s voice rang again.
“It’s been three days, now. I can’t break him out of it or recover my lost memory engrams using my Stasis pod. I’ve had some of my best colleagues in the field take a look at my mnemonic patterns - it’s like the span of time between 3:45 and 5 PM on the 18th simply didn’t happen. I’ve heard of facetious Fae lordlings slip entire landmasses out of the mortal plane for a few hours, but it looks as if everyone on payroll has the same exact blackout. Our cameras were hexed, our hard drives fried - one of our angels from Forensics couldn’t so much as lift fingerprints off of the card reader. It’s like nobody was ever there.”
Three’s silence in the moment suggested some grim realization. “That’s it, then. Rhadamantus’ own investigation is over, the defendant isn’t in any state to attend a trial. Minos and Alcmene suffered for nothing - and he won’t ever have closure.”
Another compressed flashback, as the past Aidan recalled Rhadamantus’ story of being deceived by the Goat as a Grecian dragon that had lived in the earliest days of Greek history, his wisdom and impartiality twisted out of shape by a being that had decided to elect this old man as his sham of a legal system’s representative.
In the waking world, this had passed in an eyeblink, a ghost of a look of concern washing over the soldier as he glanced at Marius and returned to giving a more congenial reception to Tristan.
“We’re that group you’re referring to,” he said, smiling, as he inwardly projected the Black Speech in order to gently coax Tristan’s smartphone out of his hand, where it floated in mid-air for a second or two. He then guided it back down into Mallory’s palm. “The idea at first was that he’d have us as a fall-back or a breadline, while working on his family’s legacy. What we all found sort of blew this out of the water and it exposed a few differences between us - some of them I thought we’d need a while to reconcile.
He glanced back down on the phone, assuming that Preston had probably tapped into its microphone. “I’m sorry if I pushed, Preston - and I’m sorry I doubted you. Just, don’t sneak up on us - you’re either in the Breaking Bad-looking pair that’s walked out of the van or you managed to slip into Doherty’s PR wagon using a three-piece and a too-new pair of specs. He always was shit at performing checkups - any doctored resume could’ve placed a colleague of yours in close proximity. Unless you’ve gained six inches over the incursions, I count something like four or five potential Hausers around here.”
Carrie gave Mallory a bit of a placating smile. “It’s kind of how things are, y’know? All cloak-and-dagger ‘cause the mortal plane’s enemies can’t fucking take five - like, ever. Figure Hauser’s seen his fair share of freaky stuff by now, though - the entire world spent two years hacking and guerilla fighting when you didn’t have weekend gardeners realizing that their rooftop terraces were a lifeline now, of all things.”
A few impish taps of his staff on the building’s bricks served to break the couple’s amorous trance. Their ward had been left with a few books and a tablet to keep her occupied until her cue would sound, and the dryad’s guardians had seemingly been unable to resist the allure of a few minutes’ worth of privacy. Their combined Mantles created air-pressure eddies that made the last of spring’s debris roll around the lawn at their feet, and they had the look and attitude of a young couple feverishly petting each other. Vernon looked like he’d been sweating profusely, but no untoward scent rose forth. It had to be Eirean’s own Mantle, then, melting off the frost that formed on the Winter Lord’s skin and clothes under the effects of arousal.
The Warlock lightly cleared his throat. “I’m glad to see spring fever’s caught on for the local aristocrats, but we have a number of potential lookie-loos…”
That seemed to break Haskill out of a long exploratory session of Eirean’s mouth, which elicited a groan of disappointment from the businesswoman. The Winter Lord looked just about murderous for a split-second - likely his Mantle not reacting well to their interruption - before ice left his features and concern returned to them.
“My days,” he lightly swore, “Mister Magnus! You’ll have to accept our apology for this display,” he explained, carefully pushing Eirean away and then moving to resettle his pie-tailed jacket into place, “we’ve been back here for a few days now, but had channels to re-establish, as you can imagine. Our trip back was eventful and even if we didn’t lack opportunities to bond, well…”
Tom smiled. “I get it; kid’s all grown-up now; eighteen years in a pocket dimension would be a test of any relationship. You’ve got friends waiting for the full story, though, if you’ll maybe creep out of your foxhole for a few minutes.”
Eirean smiled a bit more curtly as she tried to put her power jacket and blouse back in order, and briefly rubbernecked around for her misplaced pumps. “I know, I’m sorry too, Tom. With the baby kicking again after what’s technically eighteen years in stasis, I guess there’s a little more of me to handle than usual. Now, it’s Alex that’ll get to play the role of older sibling.”
This seemed to surprise Tom. “It’s expressing itself as male? Cases like Greene are already rare for dryads-”
The smile on the red-haired woman brightened. “It’s a diminutive, actually. Leave it to Vernon to absolutely want to wax Classical when it comes to naming a dryad.
- Well I, for one, think Alastriona is a lovely name,” noted the Winter Lord. “I would spare with the decorum, but you know how our dear mayor is with these things. Some poor PR nerd is in there with her now,” said Vernon, who jerked his neck at the greenhouse, “trying to keep her occupied with the minutiae of a teenaged plant spirit having a space the size of a large Parisian studio all to herself… The concept of the Internet was of some interest to her, I imagine she’ll be racking up social network followers in a few short hours…”
Tom chuckled agreeably at that. “Let’s not keep Aislinn and Ciaran waiting, though; I just ducked out of their view a few moments ago,” he said, then raising his voice as he came back into Aislinn and Ciaran’s combined fields of view. “Found them!” he shouted, smiling and raising his staff so as to stand out a bit more. That done, he approached the two selkies and mustelid.
“Let’s just say they were, um, otherwise occupied,” he quipped. “I’m guessing a few days of playing catch-up with Evergloam’s paper-pushers got on their nerves and they both figured they could do with some tension-release exercises in, um, dubious privacy.”
Weasel’s cackles were soft, but suggested he knew exactly what this involved. “Yep, I still occasionally have to act all flustered, whenever ‘onna my calls catches Silve in bed when she ain’t usually there…”
Herbert didn’t seem surprised. “I briefly courted a banshee in the first few of my Minor Aspect days. An absolute head-rush on all fronts, but not an ideal match for a relative pacifist from Pride. The Black Goat’s version of the Bar Exam was grueling, and I preferred studying to turning a bedroom into a crime scene out of sheer passion.”
A few steps behind, an unmistakable glow still hung over both aristocrats, even if the aftereffects of their Mantles had since faded. Only genuine smiles and a tiny bit of exhaustion remained. “Good day to you three,” said Vernon, nodding to the group, “it’s good to see the city in such lively spirits, considering the state in which we left it. It’s even better to see you well, of course.”
***
Three glanced in the greenhouse’s direction, briefly allowing himself a smirk at the sight of Rhadamantus trying his best to conspire with the first relatively shifty sort he’d spotted that he’d known to be reliable. The soldier piped his own thoughts back through the Lexicon as fast as Marius had sent his.
“I wouldn’t pin this on Jenkins, he would’ve been more subtle - nevermind his usual critics. Randolph just isn’t used to keeping things on the down-low or initiating side-projects - he isn’t like you or me. This just means he’s looking to spare someone he’s close to from something he’s working on, and that he probably can’t do much on his own.”
To illustrate his point, Drake sent Vlastos the image of Mantus gripping Pride’s Crown on some sort of dais, and straining fruitlessly as he tried to pick up the ostentatious mark of power.
“He’s running on Due Process, the concept of Justice being properly meted out according to supernatural tenets, and the Goat’s therapist has a four-hour mind blank he can’t account for, which is unusual for a Karthian. Mantus knows we still have a few casefiles floating around and he wouldn’t want to sully either mine or Aislinn’s hands - we’re supposed to carry out Justice and we don’t have a fully-formed understanding of what happened, much less a suspect. Rhadamantus can’t do what he was made to do - which is prosecute the Goat - and it’s probably more intrinsically annoying to him than any case of stonewalling Ephesian or Wormsworth would’ve worked with before.”
A brief pause. “As for the Goat, well…”
Aidan then sent Marius a short subjective clip made up of his penultimate visit to Chimera Row, and of a few seconds of the most recent one. In the first one, the soot-faced caprine demon was sitting forward on his cell’s bench, wearing ill-fitting prison slacks.
“You held my prize,” the Goat had sneered, “ripped it from me with your alien gifts - and gave it to a pencil-pusher. This insult demands reparation, mortal, and I shall mete it on all you’ve ever loved, everyone you’ve ever held dear. In the end, Aidan Drake, you will beg me to-”
Three had cut him off, his tone blazé. “Okay, so no change there, I see. Welp, here go all my hopeful theories about you maturing a bit if you were completely cut off from your source - damn shame. I was hoping we’d have a constructive conversation, one of these days.”
In the back, the therapist was heard sighing. “This isn’t quite the same as textbook narcissism, mister Drake. This being was made from the ground up to embody noxious vanity; only we mortals can aspire to be handily forged and altered by our circumstances, and only especially terrestrial immortals, such as the Fae or vampires, can overcome thousands of years of bad habits. I’m paid to butt up against him day in and out and my species is immune to base manipulation, but neither aspects could ever guarantee a concrete recovery plan.”
The soldier had sighed. “This isn’t about recovery, it’s about adequate processing. I don’t give a shit if he never apologizes, he just needs to realize he was always alone in his corner. The only ones left who haven’t turned civvie or returned to Hell are those who can’t take a hint.”
The Karthian nodded in agreement. “Yes, like this Grishnakhal fellow. I’ve heard of him conducting raids against Lucifer’s new treatment compounds.”
The conversation was cut off as the memory shifted to a more recent one, that of the Black Goat recoiling in a corner of his cell, eyes almost impossibly wide, his frame shaking with abject terror. His jumpsuit was soiled now, and puddles of urine and wads of fecal matter could be seen strewn along the floor. The demon had apparently screamed itself past hoarseness, and had no sound to produce as it pointed to Aidan’s perspective as if the soldier had been some sort of nightmarish creature bearing down on him. The therapist’s voice rang again.
“It’s been three days, now. I can’t break him out of it or recover my lost memory engrams using my Stasis pod. I’ve had some of my best colleagues in the field take a look at my mnemonic patterns - it’s like the span of time between 3:45 and 5 PM on the 18th simply didn’t happen. I’ve heard of facetious Fae lordlings slip entire landmasses out of the mortal plane for a few hours, but it looks as if everyone on payroll has the same exact blackout. Our cameras were hexed, our hard drives fried - one of our angels from Forensics couldn’t so much as lift fingerprints off of the card reader. It’s like nobody was ever there.”
Three’s silence in the moment suggested some grim realization. “That’s it, then. Rhadamantus’ own investigation is over, the defendant isn’t in any state to attend a trial. Minos and Alcmene suffered for nothing - and he won’t ever have closure.”
Another compressed flashback, as the past Aidan recalled Rhadamantus’ story of being deceived by the Goat as a Grecian dragon that had lived in the earliest days of Greek history, his wisdom and impartiality twisted out of shape by a being that had decided to elect this old man as his sham of a legal system’s representative.
In the waking world, this had passed in an eyeblink, a ghost of a look of concern washing over the soldier as he glanced at Marius and returned to giving a more congenial reception to Tristan.
“We’re that group you’re referring to,” he said, smiling, as he inwardly projected the Black Speech in order to gently coax Tristan’s smartphone out of his hand, where it floated in mid-air for a second or two. He then guided it back down into Mallory’s palm. “The idea at first was that he’d have us as a fall-back or a breadline, while working on his family’s legacy. What we all found sort of blew this out of the water and it exposed a few differences between us - some of them I thought we’d need a while to reconcile.
He glanced back down on the phone, assuming that Preston had probably tapped into its microphone. “I’m sorry if I pushed, Preston - and I’m sorry I doubted you. Just, don’t sneak up on us - you’re either in the Breaking Bad-looking pair that’s walked out of the van or you managed to slip into Doherty’s PR wagon using a three-piece and a too-new pair of specs. He always was shit at performing checkups - any doctored resume could’ve placed a colleague of yours in close proximity. Unless you’ve gained six inches over the incursions, I count something like four or five potential Hausers around here.”
Carrie gave Mallory a bit of a placating smile. “It’s kind of how things are, y’know? All cloak-and-dagger ‘cause the mortal plane’s enemies can’t fucking take five - like, ever. Figure Hauser’s seen his fair share of freaky stuff by now, though - the entire world spent two years hacking and guerilla fighting when you didn’t have weekend gardeners realizing that their rooftop terraces were a lifeline now, of all things.”