Chapter VI - Asunder

[IamLEAM1983]

Three nodded to Abdiel. "There's time enough for us to rope in Matriel; Thorn isn't a priority until after we'll be done with the other issues needing attention. He's already scared off a lot of potential customers and the spaceport's under Pride's control. He's due for a few days without repeat customers."

Herbert smirked at Neasa, once Three had spoken. "Simply try and project confidence; I'll provide a magnifying effect. You'll have to steel yourself and avoid it getting to your head, however. I might not mind large egoes, I doubt your own sister would appreciate your suddenly trampling over her own pride as an Archmage.
- While you're at it," noted Tom, "you should try and see if someone close to Allocer is monitoring the construction process. If that's the case, maybe you could set yourself up for a top-up, Herbert."

The winged demon looked a tad confused. "I can't simply leech Pride from someone else, Thomas.
- No, but you wouldn't be much of a Fiend if diminishing someone else's didn't augment yours," noted the Warlock. "Try and bring out the whole Bumbling Bureaucrat schtick out of someone," he said, looking back to Neasa, "and position yourselves as the victims - which we more or less already are. It should work wonders."

That left the attorney to give the warthog a Grinch-worthy askance smirk. "I keep forgetting just how pleasantly devious the local do-gooders can be... This should be a treat."

[TennyoCeres84]

Smirking at Herbert's Grinch-like smile, Aspasia looke back to Neasa and commented, "Projecting confidence is a vital part of any transaction. Most business dealings between Drifters are all about presence, sizing the other up and appearing that you could deck them if needed. Remain congenial while keeping your body language in mind."

In response, the selkie re-straightened her posture in such a way that she exuded confidence and seemed like she was somebody not one to take lightly. Her gaze steeled itself while somehow remaining casual and carrying a certain amount of cordiality.

The Transgenic nodded approvingly. "That should work just fine. Act like you belong there, and I think you and Herbert will be able to accomplish what you need to."

[IamLEAM1983]

Herbert added an approving nod in Aspasia's direction. "I would contend that it is easier to act as though your vis-à-vis stands above his station. We wouldn't have such a regrettably illustrious enemy if Pride did not inspire certain maxims. Do as thou will is practically my kind's anthem - and it should quite literally please us to grace Civil Engineering's new supernatural crop of workers with our presence.
- Don't overdo it," noted Three, "or you might need one heck of a round of back-stroking to fix a few dozen potholes in your wings. If the foremen are clever, they'll need more than a signed affidavit from the mortal teamsters' rep to buy that you and Neasa will have any kind of authority over the proceedings. I hope for your sake that Pride packs a few hardhat and short-sleeves-wearing bottom-tier autocrats."

Wormsworth chuckled at that. "Oh, that it does, Aidan my boy. That it most certainly does."

Sighing, Three then looked at the group again. "One last item on the docket: Archie. By now, you all know he hasn't coped well with Holden Hall's destruction. Bucky's Bucky, all he needed was a few books and a place to crash - but Archie? His entire mortal life was enshrined in those walls. He had his mother's Ethnobotany books, his father's purchased or penned historical essays, and enough rare books to make Matthias d'Aubignier offer to give him six hundred books from his private collection. Imagine having that many tomes locked off for preservation and getting Vienna's approval on that kind of token of support. Coupled with that, we haven't been able to recover all of the items needed for his armature's maintenance. If he goes out and overexerts himself, he could damage himself beyond repair. I need a sit-rep on that."

George spoke again. "Re-forging duplicates of his master key has proven to be a challenging task, the tell-tale sign of supernatural hands having played a part in his core mechanisms' design. It is with no bravado that I consider myself one of the premier watchmakers alive, and Meris and many others can attest to my hands' dexterousness; but there are nadirs of complexity in Archibald's design that make me wonder if someone did not pilfer an electron microscope and toss it on the right factory floor in the eighteenth century. Architect willing, I may work down to the surface of a single atom, but depth is less the issue here as is breadth. The only way I could begin to fully intuit the requirements of his mechanisms would be to fully disassemble him. I do believe I know where we all stand on that front."

Melmoth grunted. "No kidding. He's got a little girl to raise, we can't just gut him open to figure him out and then expect you to fold him back together.
- The simplest path would be to forego all complications and use our connections to have a modern armature shipped in, have him transfer while his life is not in danger," added Gammell. Again, Melmoth furrowed his brow as he pensively tore at his hoagie.

"No," he said between bites, "he'sh shtubborn ash Hell. That armashur's worth too mush for him. Plush, it'sh how Angie shees her Dad. Can't mess with a little girl like that, now," he said, then swallowing. "I've seen what happens when Clank adoptive parents change shells, thinking their young kids would get over it. It's motivated a few of the more heart-wrenching deals I had to make in the last few years before claiming Othstein's body. I'm not bending another kid's mind past trauma like that. I like being able to sleep at night, thank you very much."

Three blinked. "Nobody asked you to-
- Or what," countered the Broker, "wartime therapy with Sariel? The girl coping with her father having changed faces permanently while he's facing things that could kill him on a daily basis?"

That made Drake clam up. Melmoth had a point. They already had traumatized children in the apartments, broken parents and terrified kids who still woke up screaming, calling out for a mother, a father or a dog. Someone or something once loved, now gone.

Tom sighed. "We can't just expect Archie to stay cooped up in his penthouse and your offices. Soon enough, Anjali's going to have questions, he'll run out of sherry and his violin's bowstring's going to break. He's good and mopey now, but you've seen what comes afterwards. He climbs that hill and looks for something to punch or back-stab."

Paimon grunted. "In his state, my former soldiers would run him through. The Automaton's gears would be scattered to the winds. I should use one of your own mortal rituals on him - the Talk of Pep."

Three and Melmoth had to fight themselves in order to avoid smiling. "Not yet," said Drake, "his structural weakness needs addressing first. This puts something else on the back-burner - finding tools and replacement parts in the Hall's ruins."

[TennyoCeres84]

Meris folded her arms contemplatively over her chest. "I do have an idea that could help with his morale, at least somewhat. Remember when we ventured to the Darkhallow to reach Nereus and we all had our personalized sections? All of those tomes still exist there, so he could read them there when he rests. Also, what about the projection of Hiram we met while there? Those physical items were precious, but they aren't completely gone."

She then uncertainly scratched the back of her head. "Also, I think I could potentially recreate items like Archibald's books and certain parts we're lacking. I've founded that memories have their own particular vibrations that can be manifested if concentrated on. I've found it to be an extension of the knowledge I have as a cantor."

Neasa quirked an eyebrow. "Like how you took out some of those demonic lizards we encountered at Chimera Row? I could tell they just barely quivered before seeming to implode from the inside. Would your idea be the reverse of that, to create rather than destroy?"

"That's exactly it. Without getting into a great deal of exposition, my abilities are now on par with a young Void Weaver's in being able to manipulate matter at a deeper level. While retrieving parts and tools from Holden Hall is a good idea, I might be able to create those mechanisms from Archibald's memories."

"How much practice have you had with it?" her great-granddaughter inquired.

"I've been able to make from my own memories things I owned as a young woman in the privacy of my apartment, belongings I haven't seen in centuries. A woolen dress, a seashell pendant, as examples."

The strongwoman then smiled lightly as she remembered one of the automaton's things that was unfortunately lost three weeks ago. "Could you replace his best hat that those Hellbeasts ripped apart? It'd be a small token, but I think he'd appreciate it."

The younger woman's suggestion made the older Archmage beam a little. "I think I could. I did promise him I'd make him another one."

Meris closed her eyes and cupped her hands, then focusing herself as she inhaled and exhaled. The space above her hands began to vibrate and ripple faintly, as she recalled the vibrations of the hat's color, shape, texture, material content, and exact size. Over the course of a few minutes, the period hat appeared in her hands, as though it had never met its end at the sharp teeth of the Infernal fauna.

[IamLEAM1983]

At first, Aidan merely felt like apologizing for forgetting just how easily new materials came to them, now. With Bertram, Helena, Lucian and the other allied Squids working in and around the tower, things that would've seemed like markers of an impending shortage of essential goods merely called for a few hours' worth of focusing. At least, in theory. Apart from Lucian, few had the skill needed to replicate complex objects without exerting themselves. Bertram had gone for a six-hour nap after duplicating a concrete mix bag, and Helena refused to duplicate much more than those basic implements she and Cuthbert used to train the tower's impromptu militia. Awe then followed in the wake of embarrassment, showing just how staggering both Meris and the average Void Weaver's mnemonic abilities could be.

Forming from the inside out, the hat's felt mold seemingly grew its own silk lining and outer covering, its decorative band sprouting from the base and then growing distinct, the edges lightly curving and stiffening. It might've been a side effect of mnemonic interference or of Meris' mind slightly wandering during the process, but the embroidered logo for James Lock and Company, hidden as it was at the bottom of the stovepipe, would come across as being slightly different from the genuine article: instead of the minimalist Paisley-like curls that surrounded the words, tiny and intricate Celtic whorls followed the same pattern, evoking both Meris' heritage as her inherited Dalarath influences, in how wavelike the pattern was. Otherwise, the hat seemed identical - right down to the tiny clip-on points for his head's hat-stabilization arms and all the tiny and ordinary scuffs and marks that had given the original item its character.

Melmoth couldn't repress a whistle. Three then picked it up and lightly hesitated, bringing it closer to his nose. The scent of Archie's pipe smoke clung to the hat's fabric, along with ghosts of Bagley's mild homemade hat-cleaning solution - two parts distilled water for one part diluted vinegar. You could also smell the varnish from the wooden form the hat was usually stored on, as well as something that wasn't quite sweat: Archie's copper varnish for his verdigris-dappled cranium.

"Wow," was all he could think to tell Meris, in the immediate. "I've only just graduated to opaque barriers while I'm stuck in a gunfight; this is leaps and bounds above anything I could do with the Lexicon."

[TennyoCeres84]

"Thank you, and that's why I think extra parts could be generated like that. I still think we should retrieve what we can from Holden Hall, but having extra parts around would be useful, too," Meris mused.

She looked down at her handiwork. "From what I understand, this level of composition is a bare minimum of what Void Weavers could do before they switched patrons. They've been stymied over the ages, frankly. I think you, Helena, and Bertram could eventually reach this point as well, with training and if you're willing."

"Since it's been made, do you want somebody to take it up to him? I could have Miranda do it, since it'd get her out of the apartment," Aspasia suggested.

"Sure, I don't see why not," she responded.

[IamLEAM1983]

Three looked back to Aspasia. "Have her stop at Bucky's, first. I know it's a trip down and back up the same elevator, but I'd feel better knowing she's got an adult around. Archie's no Zebediah, but Miranda doesn't deserve to get chewed out, if the boss ends up being stuck in a particularly dark place. I've seen Arch at his most cynical and it's one heck of a let-down," he told Aspasia.

That done, he closed his smartphone's Notes app and pocketed the device. "So we're up to date on what needs doing today. You've got your teams - let's make this work."

Melmoth hurriedly scarfed down the rest of his hoagie and drained what was left of his cup of pitch. "We didn't discuss my end of things, Drake.
- Obsidian Plaza looks like it's going to work out," noted the human. "What's there to discuss?
- Well, none of you have met Juno yet. She's been chomping at the bit for a chance to coordinate with you guys, and-
- Does that involve finding out what the plaza's evacuation and bunker plans are?"

Melmoth seemed flustered. "Well, not really, but-
- Tom and I agreed to this because it'd help morale, but also because we knew we'd need a fall-back plan if we needed to abandon Magnus Tower. Obsidian Plaza's not just a spot where the refugees can pretend things are normal, it has to have everything we have here that helps us survive off the grid.
- Well, how am I supposed to find water bottle pallets and cans of non-perishables in Pride's neck of the woods, huh?"

Three sighed. "Wait until Abbie gets back, then ask her to take you to Celestial Command, off of Seventh and Blume. Gabriel might have a fix on Ezemial's location.
- Zeke Lyman? His Littlefinger-esque schtick blew up in his face in the courtroom! He's a Gluttony demon and you can bet your ass the Goat hasn't let him sip or eat from anything since the trial. That's if he hasn't done worse."

As he gathered his own papers, Herbert glanced at Melmoth. "Oh, I assure you, mister Othstein - he's likely done worse. Even if you were the kind Samaritan to bring him food and drink, his now-ravenous appetites are more likely to have him attempt to devour you rather than answer questions."

[TennyoCeres84]

Aspasia phoned her daughter and explained the favor to her. The group would hear a typical teenager response of "But Mom!" before it was stopped by the older fauness's firm voice.

"No buts. You're not a hermit, Miranda, and you've barely left the apartment in three weeks. Now, get up here quickly, as we're leaving soon."

The girl showed up swiftly enough, dressed in a graphic tee and denim shorts. White "socks" went up her crooked legs, a noticeable contrast to the brown fur. Meris handed the top hat to the Chimera, who gave it to her. "Get Bucky to go with you when you visit Holden; Anjali will probably appreciate the company."

The young satyress huffed out a sigh. "If you think so." She told her mother goodbye and fiercely hugged her, quietly hoping that her mother would be alright out on the battlefield and then leaving the security area for Bucky's apartment.

Abdiel glanced over at Melmoth. "We'll probably want to hold Ezemial down, depending on how far he might be gone."

Neasa frowned concernedly, recalling the fairly agreeable demon. "You sure?"

"Unfortunately, yes. The Goat wants his allies pliable enough to do as he asks, and he will do anything to break them. It's not something I look forward to, but his information would be important. However, I would rather use the least aggressive action as possible. It depends on how his state is."

Neasa sucked in a breath. "That's really sad; Really shows what a prick the Goat is. Maybe you can introduce me to Juno, Mel, since we're only going downwards."

[IamLEAM1983]

The Broker gathered his own things as the group left, Volker staying behind to continue coordinating Nergal's shipment. "That'll probably wait until we're done," he told Neasa. "I can't just pop the lot o' ya in Hell for five minutes and then expect you'll all do hunky-dory in front of my former peers," he explained. "The dissonance feels like it'd be too big. I'd rather save her as a treat - or at least, as a consolation prize after the front lines. She's not exactly Sariel materiel, but-"

He shrugged. "Eh, you'll see," he said. Passing Tom, he eyed the warthog. "So what's up for our own Charles Foster Kane today, huh?
- More shoring up of our defenses," said the warthog, "plus maybe a meeting with one of the lesser Fomor - the enslaved humanoids working with the Finmen. The incursions shattered mortal society everywhere from here to every Finfolk domain across the oceans, and their previous servitors used the occasion to mount an uprising. Dalarath Redux, except the slaves have the advantage. They have heritage Amaxi might've twisted, but She hasn't managed to make them forget about their roots - Sarvin's entreaties are too recent. They're more similar to Gammell and his Animate peers, in that respect. I'm not due for that meet-up for several hours, so you'll all have the time to come back and see for yourselves."

Three stopped briefly to listen. "What could the Fomor do for us? Aren't they traditional enemies of the Fae?
- Only in the wider Celtic world," noted Tom. "Even then, there's pockets of sense in their group - former kings turned rebellion leaders who wouldn't mind circumscribing the Goat's influence to solid ground. I'm working to make it so the Goat's opportunities to cross the Atlantic either physically or through summons-based travel are severely diminished. The Fomor have their own reasons to assist us: their ecosystems are threatened by Brimstone and Hellfire nodes seeping into geothermal vents. Matters of survival are enough for King Ham to negotiate a détente with Titania and Oberon. As for the Finmen, they're as insular as they've always been."

Aidan smirked. "King Ham? I bet he and Sam would get along.
- Your mileage may vary," noted Tom. "Ham supposedly was Noah's drowned son, lost in the Deluge. He would've died and fallen in with some of Leviathan's spawn, fashioning a new family of sorts for himself. He himself doesn't wax terribly Biblical, but you can wipe those images of a literal sea pig out of your mind, Three."

* * *

The first group, made up of Three, Abdiel and Melmoth, headed for the large freight elevator that dropped down below Hydroponics' level. In what had once been the seventh sublevel of Alwyn Frost's parking garage now waited a sterile enfilade of emergency lights, freshly-set concrete, as well as enough ward-work to make even authorized visitors feel antsy. The intent was clear: if a demon so much as crawled out of Isaacs' lab, it would've been torn apart by stored kinetic forces leeched from the tower's two big-wheel trucks and the procurement teams that ventured out into the city to steal or buy goods. Past the empty lobby-slash-kill room waited a large set of double metal doors, one of which was currently ajar. The final anthem in Rossini's The Barber of Seville was piping on speakers somewhere inside, Figaro's anthem to love and earnestness occasionally drowned in what sounded like a pig's distressed squeals and a reciprocating saw's whine. Melmoth gave Abdiel an uneasy glance, but still followed along.

Past the door waited a scene that wouldn't have been out of place in George Romero's Day of the Dead. Tables were covered in both medical implements as well as pungent corpses of various shapes and sizes - all of them of corporeal demons. A blue haze surrounded them, perhaps part of some system designed to prevent the Pit from simply dragging its scions' carcasses back into their native plane. Something that looked like the disassembled and re-jiggered braces of X-Ray and MRI systems hovered over each corpse from bungee cords and live wires, having seemingly been repurposed as containment measures.

"Who did the wards?" asked Three over the saw's whine, which made Isaacs stop his work. He turned around, clad as he was in blood-drenched surgical garb, hair loose and greasy behind a hospital mask, his cybernetic hand twitching lightly as something that looked like a dentist's fine drill retreated inside his index finger's provided cavity. He gestured for patience and then went to stop the radio.

"I didn't want to bother mister Magnus," he explained, "he clearly has greater concerns. I tapped Gregory's pool and found some low-rent spell-slinger who wouldn't mind coming close to sleep deprivation and losing close to fifteen pounds if it kept his family safe...
- You threatened someone into helping you?
- Me? I'd never, mister Drake. I've better things to do with my time than wag guns about. There's simply enough of Elysium left for me to place protection details on people I deem useful - as payment for completed tasks."

Isaacs paused, blinked and removed his face mask. "Don't even ask how we're getting drop pods past Pride, I'm not at liberty to tell you. All that matters is there's fresh faces and even fresher weaponry to put pressure on that caprine idiot's delusions of grandeur."

Taking a few steps in, Aidan appraised a few corpses, surprised by how physically diverse the Pitspawn could be. "Does their Prince's allegiance determine their combat effectiveness?
- Absolutely," replied Rupert, who put his mask back on and went back to work on what looked like a particularly swarthy specimen, with a bloated human's torso and a face that looked like a hairless and ear-less rabbit's. "Pride possesses what's the most recognizably effective morphology, with its warriors favoring obvious strength and versatility on the field. Most of my specimens are Knights of Pride - Paimon's subgenus. There's very little genetic deviation from one individual to the other - they aren't so much clones as they work similarly to the way Chimeras do. Aspasia and female Blue corps-members would be near-identical twins, but there's enough unique material on offer to keep the gene pool stable. Not that I expect a boorish type like Magnus' ape to actually be interested in social encounters, much less copulation."

George looked like he was keeping himself from sighing in disapproval. "We're already familiar with Lust and Greed; we've seen them attempt group ambushes. Lust's numbers had Tom's previously distinguishing feature - his glowing heart. Greed's numbers are mostly avian or of the burrowing variety, all the better to facilitate their opportunistic swoops or their solo ambushes. Most of them aren't geared for abuse; the mere acquisition of and quick disinterest towards their targets is sufficient a form of attack. I suspect Gluttony needs little in the way of introduction."

Isaacs nodded at the cadaver before him. "Strong gastric acids, only neutralized by whatever base or alkaline components are in what they ingest. Hunger isn't so much what drives them, monstrously effective cases of heartburn seem to be their main impetus. I've introduced a lye suspension in this one's veins, a few hours ago. I think it died thanking me. The stable ones are more of the commanding type; these are the ones who effectively gorge themselves. Again, it's all simple biochemistry."

He flicked a switch on his cybernetic arm, a monitor flickering to life in front of him. The dusty and stained LCD panel displayed a security camera's feed taken from one of the other rooms beyond. In it, what looked like a grotesquely obese human with no visible external ears and nightmarishly sharp teeth simply sat in a corner of its locked cell, rocking back and forth while weeping softly.

"Give me my hunger back," it cooed, sounding like someone who'd long since realized the uselessness of screams. "Please; I can't bear it - I can't exist in this realm without my hunger! I can't - we weren't made like you were! Please - I can feel my own flesh - give me my hunger back..."

George seemed impressed. "What did you do?
- I had a recovery team drop nanite-spiked food pallets near the Succulus. The chef might have fled weeks ago, Gluttony quickly managed to turn the place into their own headquarters. The grunts do everything under threat of pain, so no amount of coaxing would've made them leave their post. Gluttony's lieutenants, however, aren't the ones being motivated by threats. A few minutes and we had Commander Baaku here following a bread crumb's worth of burger buns and pretzels back to our delivery entrance, where the motherlode waited: the last bushels of Renton's stale almond paste cakes and croissants, all of them spiked with ghrelin-inhibiting nanite packages. Once the payloads reached Baaku's small intestine, pancreas and hypothalamus, it was all over and done with: I switched off his jammed reward cycle, forced him to feel satiated. I've been pushing water bottles through a slot on the door on the hour - I'm interested in finding out how Gluttony reacts to standard weight loss regimens. Not starvation, mind you - weight loss. Torture's already shown me everything we need to know."

Melmoth frowned, his pity for the wailing glutton being obvious. "Such as?
- How like us they are," said Isaacs. "They followed the Goat here on hopes and dreams, on nurtured ignorance and fed prejudices. Learning is a painful process - and few of those who do learn continue to show interest in the Goat's agenda.
- So what did you do with the turn-coats?"

Isaacs blinked. "I euthanized them, sent their spiritual forms back to the Pit. We couldn't possibly take chances with demons whose only sign of progress is the understanding of how wasteful Pride's agenda is. Too many among them spoke to me of their interest in forging their own rogue factions, in up-ending the Goat's regime for their own ends as opposed to ours. I've a wheelchair set aside for the first Fiend to show signs of understanding, but it hasn't happened yet."

[TennyoCeres84]

Each of the three women had varying demeanors toward the mad scientist and his lab of horrors. Having the greatest repulsion to pain, Abdiel had gone stoically quiet, holding her tongue as she knew the man was unfortunately needed. Her inner sense of justice was likely beside itself with righteous anger, but it was quelled by the requirements of the times. Even if the demons that had been dissected and experimented wouldn't normally wait to kill her, her empathy still wanted to offer them mercy, which would likely end with a swift blow to end their pain.

Meris surveyed the scene flatly, as though removing herself slightly. However, she remained intrigued enough to standby for any questions she might want to ask. The Archmage had the same regard for Issacs as she did for Azardad. Both were brilliant, but their moral compass was errant as could be, despite the proverbial arrow pointed toward some indiscernible goal.

On the other hand, Aspasia was fully attentive as she regarded her environment and her creator. She remained dispassionate toward him, yet slightly wary of the man near her. "If you want to fill that wheelchair, you'll need a greater siren call than the desire for betrayal and usurpation toward the Goat. Chances are those are few and far between, but you never know when you might cross one, Issacs. Otherwise, Paimon wouldn't be with us. His sense of honor was disturbed enough to rebel and join us. In that sense, he's slightly like Spearhead, who's also never been one for socializing. If you can find the right trigger for that niche, you might find us another willing to aid us instead. However, the ones you put down will work to our benefit still. They'll whittle away at Pride and potentially Wrath, at least the ones running on rage alone. Wrath demons of Valefor's ilk likely outpace their Pride counterparts in wanting to overthrow the Goat when the timing's right."

Sounding ever like the strategist she always was and had been, the armored fauness said, "However, we didn't come here to talk shop about what you've gleaned so far. We need you to come with us to the frontlines near the Centennial Tree. We need to check if any of the refugees are starting to exhibit latent abilities or just dealing with a pesky cold."

***

A relatively quick trip down the elevator, Miranda ventured over to the kitaiteki's apartment and knocked loudly enough to hopefully be heard. The teenager had kept to herself mostly since arriving at Magnus Tower, so she was at least acquainted enough to know that Bucky was a laidback sort who liked to take naps. "Mr. Wallace, are you around?"