A Devil of a Job

[Karl the Mad]

Katherine cocked an eyebrow at their blunt admissions. "Are you aware that these codes have been leaked to the outside, and misused to facilitate the murder of children?" she replied, matching their bluntness. "Oberon has deployed the Krampus in retaliation, and we have to find the murderer first so that the proper legal procedures can be adhered to."

She leaned forward, fixing them both with a glare. "Anything else you wish to cop to?"

[IamLEAM1983]

Instead of appearing alarmed, the two men seemed to immediately try and latch onto whose fault this could be. "I still have my copy of the codes," Lieberman said, raising his voice. "Vickers, you dolt, if you left your workstation unsecured again and anyone were to just pass by -"

The dog gesticulated wildly. "Try and use your pusillanimous mind to imagine how many bloody people walk up to your desk each day. It could be Jennifer from accounting posing as a homicidal man!" he suggested sarcastically, only to switch back to a more serious tone. "Ask any of your sodding employees or, Christ - the mail guy! Who'd suspect the mail guy, right?!"

Vickers was about to reply with something snide, when he gave Starr a sudden look. "You know - he kind of does have a point..."

Lieberman threw his arms up and sighed. "This - I give up. I give up, but he's right. We have five or six mail clerks, we don't acknowledge them, they never speak to us, they have full access to our offices at different times of day for the express purposes of dropping a few letters and inter-office parcels on our desks. We've had a past history of some of these guys taking our office supplies, so why not? Withdrawn guy with deep-seated religious issues and, I dunno, a cheating Fae wife and a kid taken away by a court technicality? Does that fit?"

He gestured vaguely. "I'm just - tossing things out, here. I don't know any of these guys but there's one in particular. Irving Davies. Always felt like a bitter divorcee to me."

On the one hand, having suspects treat the case like a Murder Mystery night would be infuriating to Katherine. On the other, the dog wasn't half-wrong. As Traynor had suggested, maybe the perp was really in with the bottom-feeders... If the mail staff only contained five suspects, that would narrow her search radius considerably - especially with one tangible name and a plausible reasoning having been offered to her.

Well. Plausible if you didn't mind fishing in the same waters as someone whose detecting skills probably didn't go any further than the occasional Murder, She Wrote episode rerun.

* * *

Three pursed his lips. "I guess. A demon swooping down into town via orbital flight... When's the last time you've heard something like that, huh?"

He made his way down, momentarily giving the other two a polite warning about minding their way down the ladders. Back on the ground floor, Father Curran approached them again. "Has this helped you to make any sort of progress?" he asked.

Three gave him a quick rundown of what they'd inferred and what Aislinn was up to, in the meantime. At the mention of Melmoth, Curran pursed his lips together. "I won't bother you with a Sunday School speech on consorting with demons and I'll admit to knowing nothing of this Melmoth, but I do hope your friend knows what she's doing."

* * *

Melmoth went from gravely serious to a slightly oily smile in a snap. "Always happy to find a decent customer," he said, shaking her hand a little less energetically than earlier, as if to make the formality of it sink in. As he did, however, he leaned in slightly, inhaled, and exhaled a generous plume of dark smoke in Aislinn's face. The end result wasn't itchy eyes or a need to cough, but rather the sense that something deeper than her skin had been touched by the slightly fluid particulates. Her soul, perhaps?

He immediately gave her a reassuring smile. "You can rest easy, that wasn't a heavy-duty transaction. You're not mine and I don't want you to be - but I've got your number just as you've got mine. You need a lonely evening buddy, a Football Night chum or a park bench bro - I'll be here. You need more than that, like a blazingly fast path towards success and notoriety? I'll also be here; but I won't be happy about it. Comprende, kiddo? I damn idiots, not smart selkies with their whole life in front of them!"

[TennyoCeres84]

Noting the slightly peculiar feeling, the roane scoffed. "Of course not. I'm not about to give up my independent streak just because I contacted you and made a small deal, Melmoth. As for the offer to hang from time to time, sure, I'm game."

She recalled Three's text from earlier. "I need to get going. Krampus' plane will be there soon, and I'll need to give him your little message, as well as get him to work with us," she said, eyeing Melmoth and then Matthias.

[IamLEAM1983]

The demon nodded. "That's the plan, at least."

He smiled. "Scram, you two. I gotta head back to the meat sack, anyway. Thanks for the stogie, though."

After one last handshake with the both of them, he took another deep drag of the chair bar and exhaled, this time enveloping himself entirely in thick, black smoke that swallowed the chair. When it cleared, the stool was gone. Matthias blinked and opened his mouth as if to somehow note that fact, when a slit appeared in the air, red light pouring through. A single suit-wearing and bling-covered arm poked through, plopping the stool back into the room.

"Oops," Melmoth's disembodied voice went, sounding tinny and distant. "Can't rightly fit solid objects in the meat sack's subconscious, that's aneurysm material! Anyways, ciao compadres!"

The slit healed itself closed, leaving the pair in sudden silence.

"Well," soon remarked the Guildmate. "That was... enlightening, I think?"

* * *

A passenger shuttle descended towards Hope, the sun's rays briefly making its windows blaze into a corona of fire. Onboard, the expected gaggle of tourists, returning Americans and work visa-toting salarymen waited. Oddly enough, two sections had been entirely vacated, a keen eye perhaps deducting that people who'd been seated further ahead had quickly asked if they could claim some of the empty seats near the plane's rear. Alone in that small expanse of empty leather seats was a... thing that looked like a cross between a skinny Uruk-Hai and Reginald Jeeves, if the literary butler had displayed affection for red and black as his colors of choice. The immediate seats that surrounded him were covered in empty peanut packets, nut shells and small spots of spilled liquid.

Clawed hands fidgeted with another small packet of nuts and finally opened it. Muttering God Save the Queen on a hoarse tone, the man deftly tossed a nut into his mouth at the end of a chunk of his musical grunts.

"Hey, Sexypants Flight Attendant!" he called out over a shoulder. "Your V.I.P.'s running out of peanuts, here! How about you throw in some more champagne, huh?!"

A nervous looking woman in the airline's official colors tiptoed over atop her high heels. "I'm sorry, sir, we've nearing Hope's spaceport. I'd like to ask you to buckle up, if you-
- Aw, fuck seat belts," he protested. "I'm a Fae, for Chrissakes, it'll take more than being jostled by some space doohickey's reactors to piss me off, honey.
- Please, sir, this is in accordance with airline regulations. I -"

The man smiled, a gesture that looked positively horrifying, all the while carrying some sort of infectious quality. "Excuse me, airline regulations? I'm a higher power than any profits-motivated airline CEO. I'm the guy who gets told if you've been naughty, toots, and I really like my alone-time with them naughty sorts..."

She frowned. "I'm sorry, what? You're - Santa Claus?!"

The bizarrely shaped Fae stared at her, long and hard enough so that everyone could see the lump of cold, hard anguish he let bloom in the pit of her stomach - long enough so that onlookers would get the impression that the poor woman had signed her death warrant.

Then he laughed. Loudly, uproariously, and without an ounce of restraint. "Santa?! Oh, jeeze - Oh, man - Shit, lady, that's the best one I've heard all year! I - no. I ain't Claus, but I know the guy. Well, the guy you call Santa once a year. Nah, I'm his wetworks guy. I do shit that's not exactly Santa-worthy so the real naughty sorts don't give anyone else ideas."

Again, she frowned. "I - I'm sorry, wetworks?"

Another prolonged silence, this time in apparent astonishment. "God fucking damnit, they really do make you monkeys stupider every generation, huh? I'm going down there to kill someone, missy," he said, adopting an excessively patient tone of voice.

As could be expected, she recoiled and hurried away. He merely watched her go, smiling. "Call everyone, Sexypants! Call the port authority, call the police, call the FBI, the NSA, the CIA - call fucking Heathrow if you feel like it! Call God! Call the Devil, if that strikes ya! I'm Mister Kramp, sweetheart, and there ain't no jurisdiction on this fucking planet that could ever stop me!"

He broke into a bizarrely casual fit of laughter, something that felt too low and measured to be maniacal, much less evil.

[TennyoCeres84]

"I'd say it was," agreed Aislinn, nodding. She then sighed and looked in the direction of the airport, knowing Kramp would be arriving soon. The selkie set her eyes on Matthias. "Thanks for your help, Monsieur d'Aubignier. I really gotta get going, though."

[IamLEAM1983]

Shaken out of his stunned silence, d'Aubignier sprang into action. "Of course, of course," he said, nodding. "Can you find your way back down? I'd only slow you down if I were to accompany you."

He scoffed nervously, in true Awkward Academic fashion. "Obviously, if this were the evening, I could simply toss you over a shoulder and jump across a few rooftops but, eh-heh..."

Fidgeting in place, he adjusted his glasses and then buried his hands in his pockets. "I've had incidents before. Passengers of sorts who, erm, pass out while in my care. It's those skyscrapers, honestly - they're too tall and they make you mortals sick if you step outside while on top."

The Guildmate looked at her in silent alarm. "Just go, before I say anything else that could sound even more ridiculous than this... You'd think I'm one of the Freaks..."

Occasionally crippling social awkwardness tended to be another mark left by the Kenning. All those centuries spent around nothing but books left most Guildmates with wildly fluctuating social skills, from the extremely verbose night owl to, well, Max Schreck, with occasional dips into Sheldon or Willow Rosenberg territory...

[TennyoCeres84]

The great-granddaughter of Meris nodded, chuckling lightly as she grabbed her belongings. "I'll be to make it down to the parking lot. I'll let you know how things go later. Bye," she said, waving goodbye as she hurried out of the Sandbox and finally found her way back to her bike. She drove the vehicle off the airport as quick as she could.

[Karl the Mad]

"...we have a suspect going by 'Michael' so far, based on the evidence," Katherine deadpanned, deciding to save herself a headache for later and just go with it. "Those other features you mentioned would seem to fit, though. Anything else to add?" She didn't need to apply her powers to tell they were being honest with her, although she did so anyway just to be on the safe side.

----------------------------

Preston had that itchy sort of 'let's GTFO already' vibe going on, but Charles was inclined to be respectful. "Thanks fer lettin' us in, Father," he said as he shook the priest's hand again. "It 'elped a ton, believe it."

-----------------------------

Krampus should have thrown in the HKPF while he was rattling off acronyms. Or so a certain former officer of said department would have proclaimed were she in earshot.

Fortunately she was not; she was in the crowd waiting for the next shuttle, wearing a thin white coat and clutching a clipboard in one hand. The other held a black duffel bag, stuffed full of oddments and things. "Right on time," she muttered as she brushed a strand of black hair out of her glimmering green eyes, watching the shuttle land.

[IamLEAM1983]

The Labrador narrowed his eyes. "The name proper doesn't ring a bell, no. I mean - a serial killer wouldn't use his real name, and nobody just up and hooted religious malarkey in our faces during work hours, so..."

The human shrugged. "You've got five potentials and one with the pattern that fits. Some outside help might do the job."

Which wasn't entirely false. Maybe Travis or Aldergard himself could be able to dig up things concerning Griffin's mail clerks...

* * *

Curran nodded graciously. "I'll let you be on your way, then. I hope you'll catch that poor man quickly."

A few handshakes later, the group was off towards the spaceport. Three was rather tense in the front passenger seat. "I hope Krampus is more of the Brian Mills persuasion than the Attack on Titan sort..."

* * *

As the smoke from the cooling reactors cleared, a pair of horns bobbed in the crowd that exited its umbilical. Once he entered the terminal with his surprisingly nonexistent baggage, Kramp took in a sharp breath, smiled and suddenly parted his hands theatrically. "VIVA HOPE!" he cried out, drawing annoyed glances from everyone else. Not that he seemed to care.

"Oh, yes," he enthusiastically blathered out to absolutely no-one, "Hope! Hub of the Eastern Seaboard's Magitech industry, lynchpin of Transhumanism, generations-long Summer outpost! Oooh, I can just smell all the juicy quarry this place could offer me! Not that I'm allowed to take a bite, of course - there's only one fish in this sea for me..."

A man rudely jostled him. "Hey, you mind piping down, Exposition Ernest?!"

By way of response, the Krampus tipped his top hat in true Boy Scout fashion, while parting with a bone-chilling leer that would have given Mister Hyde pause, in all likelihood.

Walking further into the terminal's main area, he turned his head and made his nostrils pulsate, as if questing for a scent. "First order of business," he muttered, "wheels..."

[TennyoCeres84]

Aislinn parked her electric blue motorbike, noting a black Hayamusa motorbike with a custom fat tire kit. "Nice," she murmured, happening to notice the landing craft. She huffed out a sigh and moved toward the building where Kramp would more than likely want to rent a car. 'Play it nice for now, McConmara, like Melmoth said,' she thought, weaving her way through the crowds.

Figuring the others wouldn't be far behind, she thought she saw them pull up and continued on. At least they all had a common destination.