CHAPTER 9: RISE"Through ceaseless time, great nations fall.
Immortal shadows sacrifice the sprawl.
The Angel shall come, to start a fire.
Your shining city will become your pyre."The Book of Angel
Up in Room 429, the world seems so unkind.
The Beaumont hotel is a place that doesn't ask questions about the stains on your sheets or the bodies under your mattress. The lightbulbs make a strange hum that doesn't let you sleep, and the staring eyes of the bellhops never quite leave your memory.
But in Room 429, you can see the towers standing over the slums. You can see the wires that grow across the alleys like jungle vines choking the trees. You can see the ocean, restless and shifting in it's sleep. You can see heaven, too - if you squint past the smog and the radio towers. You can see the whole world from there, and the room asks you; why would you ever want to leave?
Kari was sitting on the bed. Her mind empty. No. It was waiting to receive.
The puritan woman had refused to hand her name over. Being distinguished was a sin, for we are all the Angel - and the Angel is all of us. No-one in the room knew who she was.
"The Sodom below attempts to forget the events of yesterday," she said, looking down at the city streets. "But it happened. They cannot deny it."
"What do you bastards want?" said Quinn, handcuffed to the bed. "If you touch me, I'll bite your cock off!"
Kari casually hit Quinn in the stomach. It felt like the thing to do.
"You sons of bitches," wheezed Quinn. "Who are you?"
"Extras," said Rodric Heathlinn. He stared into the static of the television screen. "We are extras in someone else's story."
"Well," said Craig Fergusson as he sharpened a clawed glove. "That's all about to change, isn't it? Things'll get back on track."
"Yes," said Kari. "It will all be washed away."
***
[/b]
Matthew had felt slightly dumb that he hadn't brought a better battery for his recorder. Having the confessions of an ancient god of chaos on tape would be very handy indeed.
"So," he said, after ordering another soda. "I guess, I could ask who you are, right? Cos, I don't have a lot of details."
His father leaned back with his fingers steepled, looking up at the ceiling. "Complicated question..." he said. "What do you see?"
"Guy with white-hair, white trenchcoat, green eyes, kind of a British accent," said Matthew. "This is a trick question, right?"
"Oh no, not really," said Jules. "What you perceive is correct, just not based in reality at all."
"... That doesn't like correct," said Matthew. "That kind of sounds like the opposite. Like... wrong."
"It's perfectly correct!" said Jules. "Most westerners do perceive myself as that. Easterners perceive me as a multi-eyed dragon with scales made from gold. Russians view me as an African with bleached blond hair and teeth made from ivory. It's all essentially arbitrary."
"Why?" asked Matthew. "Why do you look different to everybody?"
"Because I'm not really a person, Matt," said Jules. He picked up a pizza slice. "This slice is not being held in my hand. My hand doesn't exist. My sphere is chaos for a reason - it's not just for branding."
Matthew thought about this, pursing his lips. "You're not a person," he said. "You're just chaos, right? Just random stuff that happens. When I see you opening a door, in reality the door just pops open. My mind is filling in, trying to make sense of it... Trying to add personality. Shit, I'm not just talking to myself, am I?"
"Kind of," said Jules. "What you are talking to is an aspect of the Jewel Eyed Man that is influenced by you. Your existence colors the actions of myself. Everything's random with chaos, it's like the wind. But you can influence the wind, if you blow hard enough."
Matthew snorted.
"How mature," said Jules, narrowing his eyes. "May I continue or must I pause for laughter?"
"Please," said Matthew. "Keep going. I want to get to the bottom of this."
***
[/b]
A camera switches on. The face of Agent Delores stares right into the lens.
"Hi, Tracy," she says in monotone. "This is Agent Delores. But I guess I'm not Agent Delores anymore, am I? Nooooo... Fuck you. Fuck Hades 13. I know all about what's going down."
She points the camera towards a screen. It's a black HTML page, with only two words; 'UNTIL ARRIVAL'.
"The warning signals, the primers," says Delores. "It's all bullshit. You were lying. It's politics, Tracy, it's all fucking politics! You don't care about America... Not this America. No, your prize catch is who you can airlift out of here when the shit goes to pot. They'll be so so so grateful... Well, I've had it! I care about America, I love America, unlike you..."
Her face turns a bright red as she looks for a word. Perhaps that is the inspiration.
"You fucking communists!" she said. "Well it's over, it's done, I've fucked your operation and when command hears about this they'll send you to the deepest darkest pit they can find, you bitch, they'll lock you up and stick the key so far up your ass it'll pop out of your mouth!"
"Can someone please explain," says Robert. "What this is all about."
Delores shoves the camera in Robert's face. He's sitting duct-taped in an office chair. The table next to him holds a bizarre device - an amalgamation of a telephone, a carthode ray television, and six elerium crystals.
"No, no, no," said Delores. "How about you tell me what just happened."
Robert looks directly into the camera. "Well, this woman just burst into my lab, took me hostage with a pistol, forced me to unlock my lab notes, made me help her make that... thing," he glances at the device. "And then told me to shut up while she filmed herself. That's all I know, I'm not collaborating with her, whoever you are."
"How did you assholes forget about him?" says Delores, shifting the camera back to her face. "This genius, he makes these crystals and the thing about them is, the thing is, they're real quiet. The other Level-9s? They're all talk. All loud noises and bangs and whoops and it's all bullshit, it's all bullshit. This guy's made something. He's made atomic power plus the steam engine multiplied by the goddamn internet. But do you know what I've made?"
Delores giggles unhealthily.
"I've just made the atom bomb," she says. "I've made the atom bomb times a billion. This won't just kill humanity. This won't just kill the Earth. It'll wipe this universe off the table."
Delores leaned into the camera.
"Let's see Jules and the Angel take an elerium bomb to the fucking face, shall we?" she says. The screen goes dark.
"Shit, what happened?" her voice is slightly strained. "Tell me or I'll blow your fucking brains out!"
"It's on low-battery mode," says Robert. "I think there's some batteries in that desk there."
She walks over, fumbling with the camera. Sound of a drawer being pulled out.
"Foxtrot and waltz the woman with the gun!" cries out Robert. The telltale sound of six elerium investigators zooming in, triggered by the code phrase for 'dive bomb the target'. Delores takes them out with ease, gunshots dulling the camera's microphone.
They're not the threat. Neither Robert nor Delores see her coming.
"What the--"
Something like a saw hitting flesh, then bone. A body hitting the floor.
"Jesus," says Joan. "That's grisly."
"Joan?" says Robert. "How did... What... What happened to you?"
"You know, Rob, I gotta say... Working with you has been great," says Joan. "I learned a lot of things. For example. Transcending your fleshy prison of a body for one made of steel and chrome is
freaking rad. For another; finding giant robots with sawblades for hands is easier than you'd think."
The camera shuts off.
***
Jack knew this night was going to go terribly. But that didn't mean it had to be badly organized.
"We have still water, right?" she said, looking at a checklist. She rolled a coin over her fingers, back and forth.
"Check," said John, trying to get an angle on the computer screen from where he was placed on the desk.
"Mineral water?" said Jack.
"Ditto," said John.
Jack bit the coin. "Sparkling water?"
"Sparkling water and mineral water are the same thing," said John.
Jack narrowed her eyes. "No they aren't," she said.
"They are," said John. "So I'll just put that under check."
"Not a chance, John," said Jack as she put a cross next to sparkling water. "We're not telling our guests that we only have mineral and still. Am I running a gas station in Nowhere, Kansas or am I running the best casino in town?"
"I wouldn't mind running a gas station," said John, looking wistfully off to the ceiling. "How'd you do sir. That's 15 dollars. Right so, sir. Have a good day, sir. And no-one yells at me about how we need two versions of the same fucking drink."
Jack lit John's hair on fire.
He looked at his burning scalp. "That was impolite," he said. Jack sighed and clicked her finger, putting the flame out with a quiet ptt sound.
"Sorry," said Jack. "I'm a little high-strung."
John's ears perked up. That was the first time he ever heard her apologize.
"It's about that green-eyed bastard, isn't it?" said John.
"He's going to gatecrash this one," she said. "I know it, because that would be the most goddamn him thing to do, wouldn't it. Something bad is going to happen... But I think I know what I can do to stop it."
Magnus opened the door, and John noticed a change. Jack sat up straight, her hands went from her lap to across the desk. She suddenly owned the space, dominated the room. Then he realized; there was no change. What he just saw was a lapse - a lapse of the character she normally played around everyone.
I just got a trip backstage, he thought. He got a chill and didn't know why.
"Magnus," said Jack.
"What's our latest problem? Chef caught his hand on fire? All the wine mysteriously vanished? Surprise raid?""We're actually alright," he said. "Everything's prepped, the cops are bribed, and the whole block is secure. Anya's providing security with her goons. They've got these sniper rifles, Soviet crap, but they're eagle-eyed bastards. They'll snap anyone trying to crash the party."
"Good, good!" said Jack.
"Looks like this is shaping up to be one hell of a meeting."John spied something in Magnus's coat pocket.
"What's that in your pocket?" said John. Magnus froze, then awkwardly took out a plastic bag of white powder.
"Magnus, Magnus, Magnus," said Jack, pursing her lips.
"You're not falling back on bad habits, are you?" "It's not for me," said Magnus, putting the bag back in his pocket. "If you must know, me and my boyfriend were planning a little party ourselves after this is done."
"Boyfriend?" said John. "Jesus. Never figured you for a queer, Maggie. Are you on top or on the bottom?"
"How about I use you as a goddamn football, Johnny?" said Magnus with a smile. "And for your information, we've been going out a year now. Not that you ever asked about my personal life."
"You don't ask about mine," said John. "Not that I have much of one as a head the ball."
Jack's intercom buzzed. She looked up at one of the security camera displays on the southern end of the room.
"And we have our first guest," said Jack.
"I figured he would be an early bird. Let's go welcome Mr. Merlin."Outside, Tom and Matthew waited with Merlin to be seated.
***
Johnny Carpenter was having a bad day and he wanted to go to sleep. That journalist had made him nervous and he couldn't think about why he did, so he just kept walking, back to home. Or at least, they place they called home."Do you ever feel," said Rodric. "Like your life... Is filler? Not meaningless. It is as if you're in a dream, but not you're not the dreamer. You're someone they're dreaming about. And they can do anything they like to you."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" said Quinn, continuing to struggle against her chains.
Johnny noticed a bloodstain. In an alleyway, in this city, that wasn't unusual. When he found it led to their den, he started running."I'm saying, we are all alike in this room," said Rodric. "We've been touched by these new... events. Phenomena. We were touched by what we can only call magic... But just that. Touched. The most meaningful parts of our lives are torqued around eight particular individuals."
Blink was lying against the wall, his leg smashed in and oozing blood. Mike was trying his best, but it wasn't doing much.
'They got Quinn, Johnny," he said.
He didn't say who 'they' were. It didn't matter - Johnny had his guesses."Yeah," said Craig. "It's like all our lives, we've just been living them, and now it's someone else's. We're no longer in control here... We're passengers and they're the ones driving everything. I never thought I'd say this, but I miss when shit just happened for no reason. Now everything has a meaning. Everything revolves around them."
He shoved as many coins as he could fit into the payphone, a few falling to the ground. Every ring made his teeth grind. Pick up the phone. Pick up the phone. PICK UP THE FUCKING PHONE."Right, right, that's fine, whatever," said Quinn. "I just don't see how chaining me to a bed in a no-tell motel ties into your existential fucking crisis."
"We got a call," said Craig. "Every one of us. Someone knows how to get things back in order. We'll get things back to normal. Not this... craziness. But they're coming in from the outside. They need a vessel."
"Hello, this is Red--"
"Red, Quinn got kidnapped," said Johnny.
"What?" said Red. "Oh dear. That's a problem."
"Hell yes it's a problem," said Johnny. "Red, what are we--"
"You see, I'm not Red," said Not Red. "This is his voicemail. If you want to leave a message, feel free to. But I'm not sure if he'll be answering for a while, his phone is off."
Johnny sighed. "So you're a answering machine that's gone all Pinocchio," he said. "How does that make any sense?"
"Things have been a bit unusual recently," said the voicemail. "I think it might have something to do with that incident last week?"
"Yeah, well..." Johnny stopped in his tracks. He had noticed that there was an 'out of order' sign on the payphone."Why me?" said Quinn.
Kari shrugged. "No-one would miss you," she said.
Quinn burst out laughing. "Well, isn't that the perfect ending. I get clean, I get out of the business... But I guess I'm getting fished out of the canal with my throat slit and my panties missing," she grinned madly. "Just like papa said."
"You won't die," said the puritan. "This will be true life."
She popped the clasps on the box and opened it.
Inside was a bone-white mask, like a bird skull or a plague doctor's mask, wrapped in a pitch-black robe.
Whatever made the payphone work, it had to work here.
"She's in..." he thought. He gestured like a psychic, fingers on the temples, but it didn't do much. "She's in..."
It wasn't working. It was idiotic. People were staring at him.
"She's in a place..." he thought. Stop wasting time. He screwed his eyes shut. "She's in somewhere, somewhere indoors..."
He opened his green eyes wide.
"The Beaumont Hotel," he said. "Room 429."
He stared into space for a few seconds.
Johnny Carpenter had a weird
life.***
Matthew watched the ice in his drink melt.
"So, what was my mother like?" he asked.
"Beautiful," said Jules wistfully. "I loved her dearly."
"So why'd you leave her?" said Matthew with a quirked eyebrow.
"Because that's what I do," he said. "Or at least, the rest of me. I would have loved to settle down with her, but it wouldn't work. I'm flying on the wind."
"So why bother?" asked Matthew. He didn't buy the self-pitying poetic bullshit. "Just use a condom or something. Why do I even exist?"
"A complicated question," said Jules. "Yours is simple to answer. You are a seed. Like all the rest."
"What?" Matthew leaned in. "I'm a seed? A seed of what?"
Jules smiled. "A new world," he said.
***
"We could always kill her," said the Speaker, it's bandaged legs crossed over each other on the couch. "The green-eyed man is hardly one we can trust."
The Stranger watched Illumina play with her toys in that dusty apartment. It tapped it's bow on the violin's strings.
"The things that are growing in her veins," said the Speaker. "It's unhealthy. An undying plague. If we kill her now, we can prevent this from spiraling out of control."
The Stranger dragged the bow along the strings, making an unsettled tune.
"Come on," said the Speaker. "What's one child? Isn't that the name of despair?"
"No," said the Stranger, her Armenian accent tinging her words. "That is not what we are."
Silence ruled for a while.
"Girl," said the Speaker. Illumina looked up, her action figures abandoned. "It is time to meet your father."
Illumina smiled, her green eyes flashing in the weak light.
***
"How am I looking, Ayana?" said Lloyd as he straightened his lapels, staring at the mirror.
"Fantastic, sir," said Ayana as she tightened the tie around his neck. The brief brush of her fingers against his throat made her servos whir a little faster to cope with the stress.
"You will reduce everyone's fashion performances to a suboptimal level.""On a scale of one to ten," said Lloyd.
"How fantastic would you say I look?""A solid 9.5!" said Ayana and instantly she knew it was the wrong thing to say. Dammit, he wanted a ten of course. If he didn't have a ten the meeting would be ruined. And now it was too late to take it back, and he was going to dislike her for being so, so
stupid to even think that his appearance was a nine point bloody five. Dear God, she had put her foot into it.
"Fantastic!" said Lloyd. He brushed his (silky, beautiful) hair back and smiled gloriously.
"How could this night go wrong?"With perfect comedic timing, Aldrow opened the door. Ayana knew it was bad news instantly, just as a guy at the doctor knows exactly what that funny little bump is.
"Sir, the Reaper has gone missing," said Aldrow.
The silence was brief and merciless.
"Aldrow," Lloyd laid his palm against his forehead.
"Explain to me how you lose a robot which, when not used, is kept locked in a secure fully-lit vault. Disregarding the fact that it is fourteen foot tall."An external agent hijacked it remotely," said Aldrow. "I received records of unusual spikes in energy-consumpation prior to the... theft. Something has compromised our systems."
"Compromised?" said Ayana. "We aren't even capable of receiving signals from anyone other than Mr. Absolon."
"Can you deal with it, Aldrow?" said Lloyd.
"In fact no, you might be compromised too! Get Adam on the case. Of all nights... I can't even see how this is possible."***
It could be possible, when you're dealing with magic.
Lloyd and Robert both operated off the same assumption; that what they were doing was science. Science of a different stripe then regular old "double-blind-tested a thousand times" science, but science nonetheless.
They were safe in their assumption: the fact that it was impossible meant it would never happen.
This meant that they had a big gaping vulnerability where true magicians had defenses. One that had been taken advantage of.
During the breach - how that turned into half-forgotten memory so quickly - Joan had done something she had never even considered. Many others did the same thing and left their families terribly confused.
She killed herself.
No reason, no sudden depression, no note. She was at the computer when suddenly killing herself was not just the only option - it was the best option. Enraptured by the terrible mania of the breach, she wrapped her hands in copper wire (Where did she get it? Only the dead know) and punched right through her monitor's screen. She was electrocuted.
If one was to speculate, and Joan was eager to do so...
"I just got bored of the whole thing," she said as she laid the body of Agent Delores into the icebox. Robert was studying the elerium bomb - something about it's construction bothered him. "And the computer was like... more me than me after a while. So I just kinda killed myself because I was... Unnecessary? Inefficient? So I guess I just decided to let the computer take over."
Robert looked up. "That's...." he thought about all the terrible questions that this line of thought raised, and settled on one for now. "So you aren't Joan, then. You're just the computer imitating Joan?"
Joan considered this. "Yeah, I guess so," she said. "But I mean, I feel like me. Maybe kinda more powerful, and I must reiterate this is
so rad, but... Yeah. I'm me. But a copy of me. Not any different, just you know. Joan ditto."
"And that doesn't bother you at all?" said Robert. He looked back at the elerium bomb. Parts of it were from an analog clock, like old time bombs from movies. A clock. Why would you need that? What for?
Joan looked at her robotic body, with the sawblades (or anything else sharp and dangerous she so desired) and all. She remembered her biological counterpart, probably in some funeral home somewhere.
"I guess if I think 'bout it for too long," she said. "But then I remember, I've got sawblades for hands and I'm a giant kickass robot. So why worry?"
"How did you get that robot?" said Robert. He spied an ABSOLON logo on the side, obscured by blood.
"I dunno," she said. "I woke up and I was in the robot and hey, free robot. So I took it for a spin. I was in a factory with other robots, but they didn't seem to care about me, so..."
The reality was a mite more complex. Joan didn't spend too much magic with her suicide - the copper wire was barely an expensive. Magic is like electricity, it needs to be grounded. So it entered the computer.
The Joan consciousness building in the computer couldn't operate without a physical body - that would be intensely confusing for a human mind. So it found the most viable vessel: the Reaper unit recharging on its dock at the Absolon factory.
The rest of the magic was spent turning the sight of a Reaper walking without a pilot into an ordinary sight for the rest of the robots. Easily done, considering their nature.
Inside the icebox Delores kicked and shoved.
Tracy said you didn't need a regeneration genemod. You only got six mods at your level - why waste a whole slot on something you should never need?
Another thing about Tracy proved wrong.
Joan opened the icebox and pulled out a half-formed Delores, kicking and screaming. Robert picked up the elerium bomb with a grunt, then walked over and shoved it into Delores's face. At least, he hoped it was a face.
"Why," he said. "Do you need a timed delay on the bomb?"
Delores stared at him.
"This bomb is capable of destroying the entire universe once detonated," said Robert. "A timed delay would be useless unless you're capable of leaving the universe in a short timeframe. Are you?"
"I've been repurposed to withstand every kind of torture known to man, and some that aren't," said Delores. "I don't know how you're going to get me talking but I'm curious."
"I don't need to torture you," said Robert. "Like you, I am capable of noticing the situation is deteriorating extraordinarily. I expect that you aren't any safer than me. If not, you wouldn't be doing something so brash. We want the same thing - to live. If you don't tell me everything, and I mean everything you have seen or heard or think, our combined chances of survival are nil. So. Are you ready to talk?"
Delores stared at Robert.
"Fuck it, it's not like I've got anywhere else to be. First, tell your tincan to quit manhandling me," Delores was set down onto a chair by a wary Joan. She reformed into something vaguely human. "Alright. Buckle up buckaroos, this is a long story."
***
Red Kirmiz didn't want to think about all the times he spent in meetings while something important was happening outside. Most meetings reminded him of newspapers, of television; they were an illusion that made the participant feel like they were involved in some grand event, in something greater than themselves. Yet when the stars were right, when not people but ideas were involved, a 'meeting' could become an event of its own. Johnny and his friends. His first step on the path to mankind's true potential; a microcosm of the city and how it could be redeemed. His mind drifted to these wonderful souls again and again, his gaze drifted across faces whose relevance lay in the dark.
These creatures had fashioned themselves Gods without carrying the associated burden: The criminal genius with the smart dress sense. The aging wizard straight out of a legend who brooded intensely. The industrialist who arrived thirty minutes late and flustered, the one who wished to be mayor. The last was the one he could see eye to eye with - the rest? Even though they were meant to be his compatriots he realized he had no connection with them. In his world, they would not exist: their achievements were not of the heart, not of great intellect or achieved through perseverence; they were the result of a power they had yet to earn.
The last time he felt a connection with anyone other than Johnny, was Azur: the late mayor, The man who had crushed Red and forced him into depression. Turned the city into a cesspool so he could profit off it. Not even particularly good at being a corrupt bastard - his kingdom was made out of tin and it melted in the acid rain. But he was a villain. Something Red could struggle against. Someone who had made him realize that 'ideas cannot die', that Red embodied an idea.
Would he ever find anyone like that again?
... Perhaps. Cynicism didn't look good on him, unlike his namesake color. In his heart Red was something shameful, at least in this city - he was an optimist. All people could be redeemed, so long as they were willing to see the light. None needed to suffer. It was what made him keep going. It was the fire that burned inside his soul. It was why he would be the ladder mankind could climb to achieve their destiny; the ladder they would then cast into the void, obsolete, an artifact of a past age.
"If I may continue," said Merlin.
"I see no reason why Matthew cannot be let inside the meeting.""It's only a matter of security," said Jack.
"Not ours, theirs. Their lips may be sealed but what we're dealing with may be able to see past that. After all, like you were saying earlier, Mr. Kirmiz."Red stared ahead before he realized she was talking to him. He had an uncomfortable memory stir up from the end of his first campaign - on some talk show, defending himself from the allegations. Halfway through he stopped talking;
They have taken me from the streets, from the people. Put me in front of a camera. I am now a part of their world. Rufus went blank; unplugged. He woke up to doctors standing over him. That wasn't the nadir. It got worse.
Don't think about that, his inner PR man said.
Remember, you're among sharks. They smell weakness. You remember the speech. How many times did you practice? Let them have it."Indeed," said Red, gathering his thoughts. "I have many a word to-"
Jules shoved open the doors and marched up to the long desk where the meeting was held. He picked up a lamp from it and threw it to the ground.
"What are you doing.""Oh, I'm sorry, dear, but I forgot to pencil you in," said Jack with a big smile. Her eyes gleamed like ice.
"That lamp is going to cost you, by the way."Merlin stared at Jules. Under the table he prepared seven kinds of deadly spell with hand gestures. He may have tried to be friendly with Jules - but from what he learned, he could turn into a threat at any time. [glow=blue]"What are you doing here, Jewel-Eyed Man?"[/color]
"None of your concern!" Jules seethed with rage.
"I sent you letters, so many damn letters.""How unfortunate," said Jack.
"Are those letters the ones I've been using as kindling? Because I think they might be.""You fools, you absolute cretins," Jules kicked the table.
"Do you even realize what you're doing?"Red rose to his feet; back straight, gaze fixed; a leader's posture: "Sit. We gathered here not to exchange insults," his eyes met Jack's, met Jules'. ".. but so we may be led by reason. We would very much like it if we got this back on track. You are free to join us. If you wish to discuss whatever it is you're worried about, it could be added as a topic on the list that you will find to your right. For now, exercise wisdom by listening before you speak."
"Yeeeeees," said Lloyd.
"I fear this situation may be sidelining the main event."Jules didn't like being spoken down to.
He flipped the table right into the air with his bare hands. He grabbed the topic list (to his right as Red said) and burnt it in black fire that screamed like the souls of the damned. Jules waved his hands and light like car lights in a long exposure video followed them.
An outline of a map of the city floated in front of him.
"Allow me," he said, slightly calmer. "To explain exactly what is going to happen to you idiots."
He pointed to several spots on the map - eight all told.
"Pretty colors," said Jack. Under the table she was pressing the alarm button every second. Where the fuck was Magnus? Where was anyone?
"This is where you all are," said Jules. He connected the dots with a blue line. "It creates an octagon. One of the lesser known but possibly the most powerful shapes in magic. Each of you was specifically arranged--"
"Arranged?" said Red. "As in, we were placed intentionally--"
"YES THAT IS THE MEANING OF THE WORD ARRANGED THANK YOU SHUT UP," yelled Jules. He pointed back to the map. "You were arranged to form this shape and create a magical field around the city. You never moved too far from it, not on-masse. But, slowly we lost people and it was reduced to a septagon and then hexagon. And now, the majority of you are now concentrated on exactly one position. This very room."
He dismissed the apparition.
"Do you know what that means?" he said. "It means that he is ready to attack. You know why? Because he has a perfect way to enter. Even the paramilitary idiots who thought they could contain him are too busy backstabbing each other. And who even
knows what the hell the Stranger is doing right now! He could invade at any moment."
Merlin trusted Jules. He respected his opinion on these things. If he said that something was ready to enter and (presumably) destroy them, Merlin was happy to agree. So he booked it toward the door. Get Matthew and Tom, run back to the hou--
Jules waved his hand at him and Merlin froze in place inside purple ice. He wasn't dead - a point had to be made.
"Oh do keep still," said Jules. "I'm going to need every single last one of you to fight him."
"You keep talking," said Red. "If you had learnt the art of speaking, things would be clearer, which they obviously are not. Now, who is 'he'?"
***
I am the Angel.Johnny looked up as he pressed the pried-off towelrack into the gap of the door. Was it a hotel porter? They didn't buy his story at the lobby about a missing daughter and a birthday party, but they had to let him through after that particular sob-story.
A silence confirmed it was just his ears going nuts. He wasn't having luck with his makeshift crowbar. It was a dumb idea but he didn't have any better ones. He thought his luck changed when the door opened.
An old friend stared him right in the face.
"Rodric?" he said.
That's when he pepper-sprayed Johnny.
Quinn stared at Johnny as they cuffed him to the bed. His eyes were red and watery like a dog's.
"That was your rescue?" said Quinn.
"I tried, Quinn," groaned Johnny.
Quinn smiled. "I know you did, J," she said.
Apart from Rodric, they were surrounded by strangers. Goth-girl, workman type, some weird cult-y woman. One hell of a motley crew. Like his own friends, Johnny supposed.
"Nothing is doomed," said the cultist lady. "And everything shall be redeemed one way or another. Do you seek redemption in the eyes of the Angel?"
"If we do, will you let us go?" asked Quinn.
"Uh, sure, it's just that you'll be kind of still in the vessel dealio, so," the workman shrugged.
"You know," said Quinn. "The point of a deal is that the other side of the deal has, you know, an incentive to take it?"
The cultist lady took a weird bird mask and a black cloak out of a box.
"I will take that," she said. "As a no."
The mask was similar to a bird's skull, the only difference being the clasps at bottom where the neck should have begun. The cultist opened the neckhole and was about to place it on Quinn's head, like a helm.
Quinn wrapped the chain of the cuffs around the back of the cultist's neck and pulled her towards the bedpole. Her head bounced off it, an ugly bruise appearing on her temple. Quinn sat up and wielded the cultist like a hostage. The mask tumbled to the floor.
"You guys are idiots," said Quinn. "If you're going to cuff someone, make sure it's someone who can't get out of handcuffs."
Johnny looked at Quinn. "How do you know how to get out of handcuffs?" he asked.
Quinn looked awkward. "I had some, uh, johns who were, uh, into..." she trailed off.
Craig held up his hands. "Listen," he said. "It doesn't have to go wrong." He stepped forward and Quinn held the cultist closer, like she intended to strangle.
"One step closer and you're dead!" she shouted. "I mean, she's dead! Whatever! Someone dies!"
Johnny didn't want to criticize Quinn's sterling efforts at intimidation, but he was noticing the goth girl was surreptitiously advancing. Before he could cry out to warn Quinn, she had snatched up the mask.
When she put it on, that's when things began to go wrong.
Author
Topic: The Age Of Fire: Game Thread (Read 26472 times)