Inside 66: Order up!

[bc56]

Gate

Meanwhile, the alien observer (his name is Ellrin) is also scanning the truck through his telescope, looking for any sign of unusual technology. Regardless of what he finds, he pulls one of the pistols from his belt. It has a long barrel and a large scope. He loads it and fires at the bed of the truck, the gun launching a small, spidery observer drone through the air. If it should hit something, it will make a clunking sound.

[Gnrlshrimp]

[The Gate]

Ithuriel blinks and pauses for a moment. Freaky insect-eating man knowing her name was unexpected. Still, there's sections on the checklist to cover this. She flips back a couple of pages for a moment to check over a section labelled as "Suspected Temporal Anomaly" before glancing at the lump the driver is gesturing to.

Hard to tell whether she recognises someone when they're hidden under a pile of blankets.

"Well sir, hopefully these questions will make it pretty clear if I am familiar with your brother as you say. Are you a past/present/future resident of Inside? For reference the current date is [Date], please specify if possible. If you're able to provide proof of current residency, I can skip over a lot of this. Please be aware that if you are from a different time period or alternate reality, any claims of ownership must be valid in this current time and reality to be recognised." She reads off from the checklist in a typically official-sounding voice, "Oh yes, and if I could also have the name of yourself and your passenger(s), your purpose in Inside and your intended duration of stay, please. A formality if you are residents here, I know, but I'm afraid I've got to go through it all anyway."

Whatever momentary hesitation there was at the driver's unusual response vanishes rather quickly as soon as Ithuriel gets herself back on-topic. If the driver's seemingly inaccurate recognition of Michalson or his comments about catgirls had any effect, she doesn't show any visible reaction to it. Gotta do things by the book!

A little niggling voice in the back of her mind is nudging Ithuriel towards a name, but she's nowhere near certain enough yet to voice it. Besides, it'd be a breach of procedure to supply the driver with a name! He's meant to give the names! Besides, the file relating to that particular name is so large it takes up several shelves all on its own - it'd take days to sort through it and make sure there's no legacy arrest warrants for him!

[Recaiden]

Alleyway- Interaction Wanted

There's a half-orc here, quite a weedy one. He's got khaki-coloured skin, no hair and a small tusk on the left side of his mouth. He's wearing a long coat and dungarees, and he's curled on the floor surrounded by small bags of rainbow-coruscating dust. He's also whimpering, as eight fairies beat him with hob-nailed boots and club-shaped wands. The fairies are muscular, six-inches tall, male and wearing frilly pink tutus (and heavy boots).

"No pixie dust! Got it?" Is repeated several times, by various fairies involved in the beating.

I ran across a curious scene today, involving two species unknown in my land. There are rumors about 'pixies' living in the far eastern forests, but only rumors. Even so, that is what I found. Tiny winged men less than a span tall, dressed in stage-dancer's outfits. 'Half-Orcs' (the other half being, approximately, common western human) are a not uncommon race in this land, and I must remind you that these people, despite superficial similarities, are not the orcs we know. Tallow-colored rather than brown, hairless, with one little tusk making him look something like a young warthog. One of these half-orcs was lying on the cobblestones, surrounded with bags of some iridescent substance, being soundly beaten with clubs by a flock of eight pixies, despite being much larger than all of them put together. It resembled nothing so much as a cheerblossom deal gone wrong.

Nonetheless, I strode right up and demanded of the tiny dancers: "Just what is going on here?". Although I was expecting a angry, if not violent response, I kept my sword sheathed, hoping to defuse the conflict with words alone.

<sup>*"I've found it's pointless to try to keep up with the date. The 'treachery of hours' theorized by the director of that one facility near the lake (you know the one I mean) runs very strongly here. Days, months, calendars, they all flow together and mix. Nonetheless, you can be sure that this entry follows X-18, and can expect it to be followed in time by X-20."

Do note that this entry contains disturbing impossibilities and savage violence.</sup>

For help picturing the scene, a description of the author can be found much earlier, in the preface...which I left...uhm, for the moment, simply imagine a typical 18th century British explorer, with the addition of bright white hair and glowing red geometric tattoos.

[Earl of Purple]

Alleyway

The fairies turn to the explorer, looking him up and down, from solid boots to pith helmet, and note the hand on sword. They stop their beating, and the half-orc tries desperately to crawl away... But one of the muscular fairies notices and waves a hand, and a vine erupts from the ground and fastens itself tightly about the half-orc's ankle. "This... This skuzz bucket was selling pixie dust. Which is illegal. But more importantly, it's also against the rules of the Fairy Godfather. And it's not the first time we've caught him, either. So we're teaching him a lesson. Got a problem with that?" There's a lot of vitriol in the term 'skuzz bucket', though the fairy is himself quite an aggressive-sounding individual. His muscular compatriots join up behind the speaker, straining to look intimidating.

These particular fairies would take umbrage at being called 'pixies'. They identify themselves as 'sprites', though offer little evidence to back up their claim.

[Recaiden]

Upon hearing the explanation, I scowled. It was just about what I thought; the half-orc was selling a controlled substance and ran afoul of a local cartel. Making him both vicious and stupid, although not without enough sense to try to flee when the opportunity presented itself. Clearly his beating was well-deserved, but the pixies seemed just as miserable. My hopes of peacefully scaring them off from a moment ago melted away. They had an organization behind them, and wouldn't give up. And even if they did, would the half-orc learn? But I had to give them a chance. "Why not give him over to the actual police, get him out of the way for a while?" I tried to make it clear in my tone that it wasn't for their benefit that I suggested this.

Editor's Note: The difference between various classes of fairies has never been cleanly cut, and at the time, the author referred to them all as 'pixies'. Try to remember that they are in fact sprites.

[Lord Magtok]

The Gate

Spoiler: Previous Posts

Show

[The Gate]

Ithuriel blinks and pauses for a moment. Freaky insect-eating man knowing her name was unexpected. Still, there's sections on the checklist to cover this. She flips back a couple of pages for a moment to check over a section labelled as "Suspected Temporal Anomaly" before glancing at the lump the driver is gesturing to.

Hard to tell whether she recognises someone when they're hidden under a pile of blankets.

"Well sir, hopefully these questions will make it pretty clear if I am familiar with your brother as you say. Are you a past/present/future resident of Inside? For reference the current date is [Date], please specify if possible. If you're able to provide proof of current residency, I can skip over a lot of this. Please be aware that if you are from a different time period or alternate reality, any claims of ownership must be valid in this current time and reality to be recognised." She reads off from the checklist in a typically official-sounding voice, "Oh yes, and if I could also have the name of yourself and your passenger(s), your purpose in Inside and your intended duration of stay, please. A formality if you are residents here, I know, but I'm afraid I've got to go through it all anyway."

Whatever momentary hesitation there was at the driver's unusual response vanishes rather quickly as soon as Ithuriel gets herself back on-topic. If the driver's seemingly inaccurate recognition of Michalson or his comments about catgirls had any effect, she doesn't show any visible reaction to it. Gotta do things by the book!

A little niggling voice in the back of her mind is nudging Ithuriel towards a name, but she's nowhere near certain enough yet to voice it. Besides, it'd be a breach of procedure to supply the driver with a name! He's meant to give the names! Besides, the file relating to that particular name is so large it takes up several shelves all on its own - it'd take days to sort through it and make sure there's no legacy arrest warrants for him!

Gate

Meanwhile, the alien observer (his name is Ellrin) is also scanning the truck through his telescope, looking for any sign of unusual technology. Regardless of what he finds, he pulls one of the pistols from his belt. It has a long barrel and a large scope. He loads it and fires at the bed of the truck, the gun launching a small, spidery observer drone through the air. If it should hit something, it will make a clunking sound.

[The Gate]

Michalson has to hold himself back from giving his normal answers to a weird stranger claiming to know him. "Ain't never seen you before, cutter", or "Who are you again, berk?". He's a hardhead now, so he has to talk like one.

"'Fraid you're confusin' me with someone, sir," he says. "I just need to see the dazz- the magic on your truck."

He puts the goggles onto his head and leans in close to examine the truck. They're not a very precise instrument, but they let him perceive the ebb and flow of supernatural forces to a degree. He's got more tools at hand, but this is a preliminary examination.

The ordinary white pickup truck is an ordinary Camarillo White Horse white pickup truck, with no exceptional technology beyond a malfunctioning GPS tracker and a broken radio. Wait, what was that about a horse? Michalson, if you're seeing a horse instead of a motor vehicle when you look through those goggles, you might need to have them checked out. I mean, I suppose it's possible the driver/ride used a magical glamour to disguise the horse as a truck, but to what end? How could he possibly fit someone in the 'back seat' if no such space actually exists? Why does the truck still feel and move and act like a truck when the goggles are off? Did someone use a magical glamour to disguise a pickup truck as a horse, and then used another glamour on the 'horse' to make it look like a pickup truck? Who would do such a thing, and why?

"As lovely as this city is, and as secure as I may feel in this city, knowing they employ the finest angels, half-elves, and blue alien men this side of the multiverse, I'm afraid we're only visiting, Miss Ithuriel. You see, my brother owned a store in the area some years ago. Ah, as a n͏̷o͡n͡-͟͏̡r̢͢͞e̛͏s͘͡i͢d́̕e̕n̛͠t͜, if that needs to be noted. We'd like to determine if there's anything still there. We've been away from the Nexus for quite some time; it's very possible the M-" the driver halts, cut off by a lot of loud grumbling and mumbling from the blanketed figure. It seems like his brother isn't too happy about the driver prematurely revealing the name of their destination to the cops. "Oh come now, really? How much longer do you plan to keep them in suspense? The angel's mostly figured it out. The lad's not even our Michalson, so he's probably never heard of you. Just get out of there already, this is r̷̢id̢͟íc̡͜͞u̶̴l̢o̡͝͞u҉̸s̢͟. If you really want to do a dramatic reveal so badly, we can go surprise the kids in Riverside next, contribute to the war effort. At least over there, your pomp and circumstance won't be holding up traffic." It could make for much more exciting entrance, certainly. I don't know if it would be fair to suddenly assault Shadowcaller like that, though. He's got enough on his plate as is. For now, however, it seems as though the jig is up.

"Ugh, fine. It's MagMart. We're going to MagMart," a petulant voice grumbles from the back of the truck. Lord Magtok himself emerges from the blanket pile, mismatched arms crossed against his chest. Unlike his brother, he hasn't undergone any radical visual transformation. He's still got the same ol' chrome face, prosthetic left side, bald head, scarred eye, and unhappy scowl he's known for. He blinks a few times, needing a moment or so to adjust to the abrupt shift in lighting, but after that he's fine. Well, as fine as anyone who's obviously still very hungover and has half of their neck covered in gauze. "You know, I liked you better when you didn't talk, Needs. You used to be fun." Well, hold on, that's not entirely correct, Magtok. Needs did talk, he just couldn't put his thoughts together intelligibly. Every attempt at speaking to others resulted in a word salad composed of riddles, obscure memes, biblical prophecy, and sheer gibberish. I don't know what he did to fix that, but it seems to be working so far...mostly.

[Morty]

[The Gate]

It doesn't take long for Michalson to get a headache looking at the... truck? Horse? Truck-horse? More investigation is required. Let it never be said he doesn't make sacrifices for the good of the city. He produces a short, white rod of what looks like marble from his belt and touches the truck with it. The rod should get past whatever reality-bending is going on and touch what's actually there, but given who we're dealing with here it's anyone's guess.

He lets Ithuriel do the talking for now. He's really not sure how this... person knows someone who's named like him and looks like him but isn't actually him. And what's that about a blue alien? There's no blue-skinned person on gate duty today.

[bc56]

Gate

Realizing that the jig is up, Ellrin jumps down from the roof he's on and approaches the car. "You have a keen eye, but I am not working with these two. You're back again, I see." Ellrin may be a newcomer to the Nexus, but he did his research before he arrived. During the entire exchange since he revealed himself, he seems tensed, as if he doesn't trust Magtok not to explode.

[UncleWolf]

Spoiler

Show

[Victory's Secret]

Kray sheepishly takes the garment from the store-owner. She's been trying to get a tank-top and cotton pants or jeans (she hasn't decided).
"Well, Eswil is insisting that I could be changing proportions in the near future, so some flexibility would be nice there, maybe. Especially if I go back to being myself soon. And otherwise, I dunno, I suppose Eswil has a point about the sweat..."
She blinks.
"I mostly lead engineers for MERC, but I still do frontline stuff sometimes. I only ever have used leather-reinforced pants and a breastplate...neither of which would fit me right now. Durable and light are my usual qualifications." She's still a bit uncomfortable about the whole scenario, but the saleswoman does have a disarming nature.

Victory's Secret

Eswill scampers off to find something she likes, but in the back of her mind she keeps what the shopkeeper said about it not being a very durable enchantment. That doesn't sound like something she'd want to risk failing at an inopportune time, so the boundary conditions would be something she'd have to know more about before committing herself to it.

Still, the clothes are very pretty here, and it wouldn't do not to buy anything before she left with such an accommodating owner.

Within a few minutes she'll be back with an outfit not terribly unlike her current getup, but in a color she hadn't had much exposure to previously. The dark purple with gold accents and filigree has quite the royal look to it, and the material is strong, that much she can tell. Hopefully it will breathe well with her fur and won't look too awkward over it. The pieces she chose were a daring, belly-exposing crop top, a similarly styled skirt that only went to midthigh on her, and a pair of padded slippers that were the only thing she could find that would slip easily over her hind paws without digging deep into the shoe section. As a last minute impulse she snatched up one last thing, a silken purple choker without much in the way of adornment or lace, seemingly a solid band of cloth that had a sneaky catch in the back hidden beneath an inside fold and concealed as a stitch.

"If I can get the enchantment on one thing instead of the whole outfit, I'd like it on the neck band. That way I can wear other clothes and still fit in better when I'm out and about."

Victory's Secret

Talia seems quite light on her feet, for even as Kray goes through her qualifications for armor the storeowner is quickly back at her side with a light cuirass of leather and a matching set of arm and leg guards. There's a soft lining and nice brass fittings and rivets for the set. "Try this'un, hun. Already enchanted ta fit whomever wears it. Dressin' room is in the back." She points out, nodding towards the rooms in question. "An' as a bonus, it should be about as protective as steel." She adds before slipping away to help Eswil.

The auroch looks contemplative as she looks over the chosen attire and gives a small nod before carrying it to her countertop. "Might be a bit finicky as a collar ain't much ta work with, ya know?" She points out as she pulls on a set of green-lens welding glasses. She gently undoes the catch to lay the collar out flat and after she sets a large leather bundle on the counter she unrolls it to reveal her set of hammers, chisels, and all sorts of leather, metal, and wood working tools. Each tool has a gentle glow and she begins to work them in the air about half an inch above the cloth itself. "The collar is pretty fragile, miss, but if I strengthen it there won't be enough room in the weave ta work the rest of the enchantment for ya. As it is, if there's even a small tear the work will be completely undone. If ya bring it back I'll repair or replace it though for jus' a small fee." She explains before sticking her tongue out for a moment in thought as she does something delicate only she can see. When she's finished, she'll put her tools and glasses away carefully before offering the collar to Eswil. "Try it on, hunny bun. Should give ya a coupla feet. Be warned though, the enchantment will only last a total of about a hundred hours or so tops. Like I said, just ain't much ta work with on a collar."

[Gnrlshrimp]

[The Gate]

Ithuriel lets out a heavy sigh. This was apparently going to be one of "those days". Her first one of "those days" since joining the force, to be fair, but not exactly something to look forward to. Still, it might mean a few less officers calling her "rookie" after this. She wouldn't mind if not for the fact that she's older than the vast majority of people on the force.

The angel leans back to catch Michalson's eye, raising an eyebrow as she sees him poking at the truck with the rod. "Something weird with the truck? I'm not surprised. The passenger is Magtok. Ex-supervillain (hopefully), entrepreneur, general nuisance, etc. etc. Pretty sure that means we've gotta go over every inch of this thing just in case." Turning back to the two occupants of the vehicle, she clears her throat awkwardly. "Well Sir, uh, Needs? May I call you that? Given Magtok's past reputation and the fact that my colleague hasn't immediately given this truck the all-clear, I'm afraid you might be here for a while before we can wave you on. And Magtok? Which- which Magtok are you? Are there still a bunch of Magtoks running around? You...weren't the one with the wings, were you?" She really hopes not. That'd be awkwaaard...

Also there are other people here. Wait, why are there other people here? Resisting the urge to facepalm (or face-wing), Ithuriel turns and stares at the alien. "No, he is not working with "us two". Sir, this is an Intersection checkpoint. I'm going to have to ask you to move along, please. If you want to have a chat with Magtok, you can do so after we've cleared him for entry. If we clear him for entry." She corrects herself, trying not to look too exasperated.

[Lord Magtok]

The Gate

Needs sighs, turns off the car's engine, and reaches into his pocket, drawing forth an ordinary orange carrot. This carrot is then telekinetically floated out the window and through the hood of the car, where it passes right through as if the truck were made of water. Okay, with that settled, we can start dealing with Not-Our-Michalson. Sort him out, before he goes poking at something important and accidentally gets his hand bitten off.

"I have many names, but 'Needs' works for now. Officer, in the interest of speeding things along, and getting to business with this questionable blue fellow, would you allow me to help your comrade in understanding what he's faced with? There's a flock of locusts and three laser pistols in the glove compartment. The pickup truck is magically-induced quantum uncertainty. It is both a pickup truck and a horse at the same time. The fuel tank contains volatile mixture composed of gasoline, holy water, ectoplasm, the tears of a forgotten harvest god, and three bottles of Georgy Zhukov's White Coke. The cargo bed has twelve invisible scorpions. The stallion's stomach contains Edenian apple slices, hay, and a few carrots. The GPS tracker follows the prophesied future emperor of Skyside, not the pickup truck. The radio is broadcasting an encoded transmission, contemporary political talk radio, starring a host who has been dead for the last seven years. There's a few wads of Remnant-era cash stuffed into the seats, as well as a bag of human teeth. Lastly, the horse is named Co̶͇̥̼͚͇͉̜n̙̺̜̺̙q̦̫͇u̳͍̝̹̪̯e̸̝͚̪̖͕st̙̕." Needs winces, that last word burning the air around his tongue, a dark incantation tainting his lips. He might not be able to maintain this stability much longer. He shoots his brother a worried look, and pulls the brim of his ballcap down. Magtok doesn't seem to notice, though. He's more focused on the lady-cop, after taking a moment to dig through his mental archives to confirm a suspicion or two. Yep, knew it. Halloween party, Twenty-thirteen. Back in the day, no woman could resist his devious scoundrel charms.

"I'm the only Magtok around now, sorry. But hey, if you're off duty this weekend, I can have Needs magick me up some wings and-" Oof! Magtok gets punched in the shoulder by an impossibly stretchy, disgustingly bendy left arm, because the pickup truck's driver can't be bothered to turn around to hit him. I'm not sure if Needs hit him for his disrespect of the law, of women, or of Needs' own foul magicks, but one thing is certainly clear; Needs Food Badly wants nothing to do with his brother's propositioning of an angel. Keep it in your pants, bro.

[Morty]

[The Gate]

Michalson tilts his head.

"Ain't never heard of Magtok... but come to think of it, I may 'ave seen somethin' about him in the files..." Then Needs explains just what he's dealing with. The half-elf seems way more curious than disturbed by this revelation, though. "Really? I've never seen that before. But as much as I'd like to spend a couple hours pickin' at it, I'm on duty. And I don't think any of it is anythin' we ought to stop at the gate." If only because if Intersection officers had to stop this kind of thing from entering they'd never have time to do anything else.

[bc56]

Gate

Ellrin looks disappointed when told he needs to leave, and does not. When Needs brings up the quantum horse/truck, he grins. "What sort of equipment do you need to create one of those? I wouldn't mind having something like that."

[Earl of Purple]

Kushiro Inn

The hoopoe flies off and lands near Makuro, who doesn't react. The lanky superhuman has fallen fast asleep.

Alleyway

"Because we need the name of his supplier, so we can stop them. This scuzz bucket's not worth the time of day. His supplier, on the other hand? We stop them, the Fairy Godfather's happy, we're happy, the cops are happy, and when we find him dealing again, we'll repeat the process until pixie dust is off the streets. Permanently." That's quite a big deal for the Fairy Godfather.

[Gnrlshrimp]

[The Gate]

Ithuriel sighs, "Sir, please. I'd really rather not have to write you up for obstructing an Intersection officer on duty." She'd really rather not, but she has those handcuffs for a reason no not the one you're thinking of, Magtok and she'll use them if she has to.

Anyway, back to the insanity behind her as she gives Ellrin a stern look and turns back round.

"Um, as long as you can promise me that volatile mixture isn't going to explode on anything, I think we're alright I-" She pauses and flicks through the list again. "And we might have a problem if you try and take the locusts back out of the city since they're probably some sort of super-locust that could wipe out most of the surrounding farmland." Inside needs so much food. So much. Indeed, you could say it always needs food badly. A plague of locusts could be lethal. "And that's a shame. I kinda liked Wings, I'd actually managed to teach him to show a little respect and decency." Yes Magtok, that's directed as you. Your womanising ways may work on the occasional catgirl but an angel isn't such an easy mark. "But if you wanted to go for a coffee somewhere when you're done with your business and fill me in on what happened to all the Magtoks, I wouldn't mind." But it will score you a free cup of coffee and maybe a pastry to go with it if you'll tell her what happened to Wings!

Wait, wait, checklist. She's on duty! So many distractions. "Right. If Michalson is giving it the all-clear, then I just need your confirmation that you have no intention to cause harm to Inside or its residents, no intention to engage in theft, the sale of illegal goods, kidnapping or any other unlawful activities up to and including the initiation of an apocalypse plot. And no vague or non-committal answers, please. I need a clear statement. We can't have Magtok starting a new supervillain team in Inside."

*****

[Comfort Bites]

(Closed Scene)

A section of wall in the cafe ripples and shimmers, like a cuttlefish changing its colours, as a series of words slowly form.

Dear Edict,

It has been far too long.

And I have kept quiet for far too long.

A man could go mad when left alone for far too long...

A pleasant chat would be most welcome.

If you'd care to join me.

There's an old abandoned tech store in the red zone.

Come and stop by. After all, it's been far too long.

Sincerely, the Professor.

[Chaotic Bob]

[Comfort Bites]

"What did you do, girl?"
A shadow hisses in the direction of a struggling figure, pinned to a wall by a straining tendrils.

The cafe is a ruin.
Broken chairs and tables litter the floor, interspersed among the more broken bodies of various patrons and the hosts. Demonic teddy bear creatures, an elven family, a pair of half orcs; pieces of them are scattered throughout the main room of the building.
Someone's lower body is propping the door into the kitchen open, possibly another employee.

The shade Edict stands off to the side, looking around with confusion more than disgust.
The figure pinned to the wall struggles, growling out in rage.

"I think you have broken magic. How did you do that?"
Nearby, if you look at just the right angle, the air seems to resemble a broken pane of glass, shattered and reflecting light in bizarre patterns.

A tendril of darkness cautiously approaches it.
Upon contact with the area, the appendage freezes and seems to shatter along half its length, briefly resembling darkened glass floating in the air before dissipating into space.
The shade hisses and detaches the appendage.
"What did you do?"

Rather out of nowhere, the wall next to Edict begins to shimmer and he jumps back in alarm. There is an immediate panic, thinking the fractured space has begun to spread around in an unpredicted fashion.
Instead it is simply a message.
"This-"
The struggling figure takes the moment of distraction and panic, jerking an arm free and bringing down an enormous slab of a sword through the other tendrils grasping them.

A moment of conflict. Flitting shadows against a figure of near-mindless violence.
The figure escapes.

"Tsk...I'll need to find her again. My thanks for that, Professor."
Edict glances back over at the shimmering fracture and fades back into a nearby shadow. This is no longer his problem.

[Abandoned Tech Store]

From an entirely separate shadow, Edict emerges.

[Gnrlshrimp]

[Abandoned Tech Store]

The store is a ruin, albeit without blood and corpses and magical mishaps taking place. Broken tvs lay scattered around the ground, old and blocky, like rocks breaking the surface in the sea of useless scrap and abandoned equipment.

Over there, a radio that looks like it might still be functional.

Over here, some sort of bizarre telescopic device with half a dozen levers and buttons on the side. It almost looks intact. Some sort of label on it suggests it's meant to see through dimensions. Or something.

The place is dark. Empty. Lifeless.

Until Edict enters, anyway. Some unseen force responds to his entry and, like an orchestra responding to the first wave of the hand from their conductor, the room comes to life. Every screen, however cracked, however broken, however utterly lacking in the parts necessary to emit a light, nevertheless starts to give off a pale green glow. Subtle shifts in the piles of shattered equipment maneuver the numerous screens until they're arrayed in a ring pointing inwards. The light grows. The room hums.

"Hello Edict. It's been far too long, hasn't it?"

As the light pools in the centre of the room, it flickers and buzzes as a figure gradually forms. It's a little fuzzy, as if someone really needs to give those tvs a damn good kick to get them back in focus, but it's there. Or, well, he's there. Piercing metallic blue eyes somehow emit twin pinpoint beams of headache-inducing light as they sweep the room, locking onto Edict. Affidavit definitely wasn't a hologram before, nor was his hair silver. Oh, and that perpetually off-centre posture is fixed, as is every other little physical imperfection that plagued him. Well, back when he had a body anyway. He still has the cane though. He always has the cane.

"How are you? Would you care for a cup of tea?"

[Lord Magtok]

The Gate

Magtok thinks. Hrm...no assault, battery, theft, sale of illegal goods, kidnapping, or any other unlawful activities. No apocalypse plots either, though obviously we would never knowingly contribute to such a thing, since a dead Nexus isn't anywhere near as fun as a live one. Yeah, I think we can agree to that. She really shouldn't have thrown in that bit at the end about starting a supervillain team, however. Magtok wasn't planning anything of the sort before, but now that you mention it, getting a group together and raising chaos would be pretty exciting, wouldn't it? We'll have to keep that in mind for later, if we don't have anything else to do. Maybe once we've left Inside we can work on something like that. After all, she just wants us to be good inside the city, right? Easy enough. We'll just save all our trouble-making for later, once we're outside the wall. Nothing she can do to stop us outside Intersection's jurisdiction.

"Alright, fine. Provided your offer of coffee is genuine, I won't go breaking any laws while visiting the city of Inside," Magtok vows, one hand held high as the other is laid upon what would be a bible, if Needs had one available in the truck. Instead, he swears on the arm rest of the truck. "There's the usual exceptions for self-defense, vigilante justice, and other stuff good people do all the time, right? I'm not asking because I'm looking for a loophole, I-NEEDS WHY?!"

Oh jeez. While Magtok was thinking about loopholes and raising havoc, Needs reached underneath his seat, pulled out a large glass jar, and set it down on the empty seat beside him. He then leaned over, opened the glove compartment, and sets a massive swarm of locusts free, prompting Magtok's reaction. This would lead to an absolutely horrible situation justifying such a cry of alarm, if not for the fact that the swarm immediately seals itself up inside that glass jar, which Needs quickly places a lid over, before holding it out to Ithuriel.

"We don't need the locusts. Officer, please bury this jar at your earliest convenience. Burial is the only guaranteed means of th͟er̛e͢ ̀i̛s̡ ̷a ͢gir̨l͘ y̴ou̷ ͜h̷av̕e҉ fo͟rgót̀te̵n.͝ La̶d͘y ̡D͟ȩath ̸wa̢i͏ţed͏ ̴f̛or͏ y̧ou̡, and͡ w̕e b҉et̷ra͏ye͜d͡ h̛er. Dea͞dt͠ime,͢ ͝chrǫn̨os̢t҉asi̷s͘, ̀spa̢t͡iot̀emp͡o͞r̶a͘l ͟co͡nt̶i͡nu̶ity̡ ͜h̷a̸s̴ bee͘n ̴s͢ca̕r͘r͠e҉d. ͜T͝h͝e leyli͠n͢es͏ ͝of ̶th̷i͡s̷ ̷ci̢ty҉ ̡a̢re iǹ chao͝s͘." Uh oh. With a terrified look in his eyes, Needs clamps his hands over his mouth, to try to contain the flow of black mist and bloodstained goat hair billowing out. Oh gods, not now, not now! He just needed to keep it together one more minute, one more stupid little minute without any eldritch riddles, dark prophecies, or psychic communion with false prophets! Now they're never getting through the gate, and the worst part is, no matter how important it might be, nobody will even acknowledge or understand a word of what he just said!

[Morty]

[The Gate]

Michalson's hands were halfway to his sword and some other tool on his belt before Needs handed him the... jar of locusts? What in the Lady's bladed hairdo?

"Of course the leylines are in chaos," he says, grasping something from that nonsensical sentence he actually knows something about. "This is the Nexus, chaos is this place's normal. But I got no clue what else are you talking about. Does that mean anything, or are you just barrikin' to sound spooky? There ain't no girl I forgot, and I don't know any Lady Death. But I will keep this jar and if it causes trouble, I'll come right for ya, get it?"

[bc56]

Gate
What in the world? Ellrin is shocked by Needs' sudden manifestation of eldritch horrors. In a flash, he draws his sword. The curved black blade seems to create a flash of darkness as it rises from the ebony scabbard, and Ellrin's shadow is sucked into it.

[Deathkeeper]

Spoiler

Show

Victory's Secret

Talia seems quite light on her feet, for even as Kray goes through her qualifications for armor the storeowner is quickly back at her side with a light cuirass of leather and a matching set of arm and leg guards. There's a soft lining and nice brass fittings and rivets for the set. "Try this'un, hun. Already enchanted ta fit whomever wears it. Dressin' room is in the back." She points out, nodding towards the rooms in question. "An' as a bonus, it should be about as protective as steel." She adds before slipping away to help Eswil.

[Victory's Secret]

Kray takes the armor and goes to the dressing room, putting it on over the normal clothes she'd pick out. She'll come out silently, not wanting to bother the two women while they're working on Eswil's outfit and just wait for all that to be taken care of.
Judging from her face, she didn't have the best time in the dressing room. There was a mirror in there.

[Chaotic Bob]

[Abandoned Tech Store]

"Has it been? I've somewhat lost track of time. I'm not sure if it's been years or months."

The shadow of a man seems to become slightly insubstantial for a moment as those searchlight-like eyes focus on him, until a multitude of violet glyphs gently pulse down its left arm and his form re-solidifies.
Edict stares at the arm for a moment, flexing a few of that hand's fingers and the glyphs fade away again.
"Odd reaction."

His eyes, such as green pinpricks of light can be considered eyes, move back to the Professor's new form and then over towards the various light-sources.
"I will pass on the tea, I think. Is this a new toy of yours, Professor?"

[Gnrlshrimp]

[The Gate]

Wait, wait, nevermind. This, this is one of "those days". Everything prior to this was just a warmup.

Ithuriel allows her second to take note of the situation: Michalson has the locusts. Needs is apparently about to explode into some sort of eldritch horror or something. Magtok is totally looking for loopholes to cause trouble in Inside, which means that offer of coffee probably just became a must-do so she can check up on him and make sure he's behaving. Also the blue guy just drew his sword.

...wait, the blue guy just drew his sword?

Ithuriel could've sworn just a few minutes ago this had just been a routine procedure, just doing a standard check on a van entering Inside.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

Her golden glowing aura spreads out over the surrounding area. It's a rather subtle effect, a sort of general soothing, calming presence, her angelic nature seeking to put everyone around her at ease. Also seems to do a good job of calming Ithuriel down as she speaks with a level voice. "No loopholes, Magtok. No vigilantism. I'll be watching, so you'd better be on your best behaviour. If you don't join me for a cup of coffee this weekend, I'll be tracking you down to make sure you're behaving yourself. Michalson, you're the magic expert, you got any idea what's happening to Needs? And, uh, if there's anything you can do to make it not happen, that'd be great. And as for you-" Ithuriel turns back to Ellrin and takes a couple of steps forward, flaring her wings out to act as a barrier between him and Needs, "I would strongly advise you to put that weapon away right now and be on your way or I will be forced to restrain you."

*****

[Abandoned Tech Store]

"Years, Edict. It has been years for sure." A soft smile creeps across Affidavit's flickering face "Like I said, far too long." He slowly strolls around the room, or rather, the light from the screens tracks around the room in time with his movements. "But there's reason to say hello now. There's reason to be happy!"

A fit of laughter echos round the room. Lengths of wire curl together around each other to form a pedastal in the centre of the room that the image of Affidavit stands himself on, grinning madly.

"I'm freeee, Edict! I'm freeee! No more toys, you see. No more toys at all! It's all just...me. And all of this is me. Ahaha! Isn't it wonderful to be free?" His slightly distorted flickering form likely only adds to the rather unstable display. And is being a pile of junk really such a wonderful thing?

[Chaotic Bob]

[Abandoned Tech Store]

Somewhere in the darkness of Edict's face, there is a flicker of confusion.
Free? He doesn't recall the Professor being enslaved by anything, barring perhaps their old organizational ties.

He applies a little more thought to the problem, dredging up rather old memories and comparing them to the current situation. Hordes of creations, a vulnerable and hidden life- ah.
"You have 'escaped' your body."
Once upon a time, while he could see quite far, he still had a core that he kept hidden away, viewing life through the lenses of his various creations. Taking him rather literally at his word here, he has become rather broader than that, now.
The concept of ants comes to mind, something about a unified whole.

Edict's own experiments with that concept lie largely torn apart some distance away from here.
"I'm curious...how does your consciousness function throughout these broken devices, without some form of magic? I recall you avoided that, generally."

[Lord Magtok]

The Gate

Oh crap. Magtok was worried this might happen. Not everyone else is as accustomed to Needs and his mostly harmless spontaneous eldritch phenomena. He's more concerned for his own safety than that of Needs, however. The mad MagClone is more than capable of defending himself, but if things came to blows, there'd be an awful lot of collateral damage. That kind of wild, unstable magic is about as delicate and precise as a sledgehammer.

"This is normal! It's normal! It's involuntary, he's not going to hurt anyone, Needs just does this sometimes! Everyone just calm down, put your weapons down, and relax! Don't try to find meaning in anything he's saying, don't yell, don't interact with anything that happens, don't get close to him, and do not, under any circumstances, think about pink elephants!" The elephant thing is, of course, a lie. He can't tell them what they're actually not supposed to think about, otherwise they won't be able to think of anything else! The cyborg leans forward, placing his hands on his brother's arms, to try to gently pry them away from his mouth. You've got to let it out, Needs. Magtok is no magic expert, but he's seen enough of your episodes to know that bottling it up like that won't end well. Besides, it's too late to hide it from Intersection now, right?

"What did you do, girl? I think you have broken magic. How did you do that? What did you do? I'll need to find her again. My thanks for that, Professor." Needs babbles, as the flesh on the left side of his body begins to flake off. Underneath, he looks just as he used to, with the same cyborg features of his brother. Dogs start barking, thunder crackles in the sky above, the clouds in the sky begin to rapidly shift, shaping themselves into dire warnings written in dead languages. The pickup truck whinnies nervously, and its breathing starts become stressed and irregular. "No more toys, you see. No more toys at all! It's all just...me. And all of this is me. Ahaha! Isn't it wonderful to be free?!" Needs screeches, cackling madly. The phenomena begins to fade if Magtok's warning is heeded, fortunately. The consequences of such madness remains, however. The synthflesh disguise hiding Needs' chrome parts isn't coming back, the Riverside Ravens hat now says Skyside Seraphims, and the goop that poured out of the driver's face is still there, pooling in his lap.

[Gnrlshrimp]

[Abandoned Tech Store]

"Ah. You get it." Affidavit nods and leans on his cane, floating up near the ceiling and smiling down at Edict.

It's all a bit showy really, isn't it?

"Tell me, Edict, have you ever wondered what it would be like if you could make an exact copy of your memories? Down to the finest detail. Everything you've ever done, all copied to a safe location - a backup of you."

A random pile of electronics shifts into a hand to give Edict a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"If you wanted to, I suppose you could consider me a fake Professor. I'm what happens if you put of all of his memories in a computer and turn it on. And then create duplicates of myself in every location I could get my hands on, of course." Cue the typical smug grin whenever he shows off.

"The real me? Lost across the minds of every creation. He's there, but the "self" is gone."

[Chaotic Bob]

[Abandoned Tech Store]

Edict's ears are burning. A glyph pulses and goes still.
He frowns, but ignores it.

Probably doesn't matter.

"Ah, copies..."
Perhaps the Professor hasn't progressed as far as he thought after all. Not sure how he feels about that.
"You remind me of a lich, with electricity as your phylactery. Can't accuse you of life anymore, as most see it..."
It's more observational commentary here, than actual conversation. Picking apart what he sees.

"Do your many 'minds' still communicate with each other?"

[Recaiden]

Alleyway

"Because we need the name of his supplier, so we can stop them. This scuzz bucket's not worth the time of day. His supplier, on the other hand? We stop them, the Fairy Godfather's happy, we're happy, the cops are happy, and when we find him dealing again, we'll repeat the process until pixie dust is off the streets. Permanently." That's quite a big deal for the Fairy Godfather.

Through talking to them, I got the sense that the pixies weren't the simple drug dealers I had taken them to be at first. Jackbooted thugs, yes, but not purely fighting for selfish dominion. "Fair enough", I conceded to them. "Do you need any help?" I turned my attention to the half-orc, and I*

There is a gap here where a scrap of page was blotted out, but based on accounts from the forest north of the capital and the context of previous redactions, we can surmise that the pixie-dust peddler was subjected to a psionic attack aiming to terrify him more than any worldly source could and get the name of his source. At this point in the narrative, the protagonist was still in denial about his abilities.

[Morty]

[The Gate]

"I don't think any of this barminess is magic as I understand-" And now the blue basher goes for his sword. Maze it. He lets Ithuriel command him to put it away, but by the time he looks at Needs again, he seems to be settling down. "I know 'normal' is a flexible thing 'round 'ere, but I'm pretty sure this ain't it anyway. And I don't rightly know if lettin' him into the city isn't askin' for him to really blow up sometime."

[Devixer]

Cookware Store

Ezra exits the store and after making sure Onora is following, leads the way back to the shuttle, which hopefully hasn't been stolen or broken into in the time they were gone.

"I don't remember humans being that scaly," Onora says, following closely behind Ezra.
"Scans suggest the teller was not human, merely an adjacent species. They would need to be captured and dissected for further analysis."
"That would go over well."

Kushiro Inn

The hoopoe flies off and lands near Makuro, who doesn't react. The lanky superhuman has fallen fast asleep.

Keiko's hand nears her staff. "And what do you seek, if anything?"