Gizmo
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Set gave a start as Lady Horus swept past her, the rush of air bouncing her bound dreadlocks behind her. The shouts of the startled officers behind her told the godling what was happening without turning around and her shoulders bunched together as she scowled and threw her hands up in the air. "Oh, just present atop a table and measure, why don't you," she accused through gritted teeth as righted herself to face the blonde woman again. "Tis likely best for the onlooking mortals, in truth," Sekhmet mused, planting her hands on her hips and considering the waylaid police with a measure of professional approval. "Et tu, She Who Maims?" The warrior goddess shrugged unapologetically and with an inarticulate grumble a much put-upon Set pointed her finger back at Lady Horus. "Blessed by mighty Ra's radiant flatulence more like! Don't 'lo' me you ratchet reproduction! You address the goddess of foreign lands and languages and you're doing a bit!" She narrowed her eyes and glared at the covered portion of the taller woman's face. She might not have been able to truly read minds but she could hear the notes of a second conversation underlying what was being said aloud. "Some other voice feeds you your lines. Be it most loathed Apep? Typhon? Should Loki be having a lark tell him I shall kick his eight-legged horse's ass up around his ears!"
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Jack of all Blades / Jill O'Cure Interceptors: Echo vs Gecko (1) Present Arms (3) Ghost Girl Horrokshow (4) Set / Sekhmet Pharaoh's Dance (6) Reagent / The Alkahest Transmutation (5) Lou Lubrano Knock on the Door Job (2) GM / NPC Revanche: At the Point of a Sword (2) Rollover and Ref Point can go to Reagent.
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In a ripple of shimmering red-orange sparkles the outfits the pair of Heliopolians were wearing transmuted into their more on-brand shendyts and accoutrement. "Keep an Eye of Ra on our impromptu policeman's ball, aye?" Set requested of the taller goddess, speaking quietly out of the corner of her mouth. "I would just as soon leave illustrating the issues systemic with modern law enforcement for another day." "Methinks thou failed to plan in full, schemer," Sekhmet growled under her breath turning sideways to glance warily between the drawn firearms and the masked blonde. "I prefer to say 'improvisation'." She rolled her slim shoulders imperiously to adjust the straps of her cross halter and took a single step toward 'Lady Horus', pointing an accusatory finger at the so-called heroine. Notably the same finger that had been summoning lightning not long before. "Ho! Pay heed, peroxide pretender!" she called loudly enough to carry to the surrounding crowd and leaning ever so slightly into her accent. "A true heir of Heliopolis would have words with thee!" Distant thunder rumbled to punctuate the demand.
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Set nodded along with everything that was said, tapping away at her phone as she jotted down notes and asked thoughtful follow-up questions. She mulled over the answers carefully, apparently lost in thought as she muttered softly to herself until abruptly bolting to her feet. "Ho, the game be afoot, oh Mistress of Dread! As empress of the unexplained I have everything I require here to deduce our quarry's true identity!" "Truly?" Sekhmet looked up from her last pupusa with a surprised blink. "Nay, not remotely," Set admitted, sighing and tucking her phone into her top. "The direct method is called for, methinks." The bleak skies overhead turned darker and rumbled in warning as the godling took several long strides to a spot in the park away from any trees or tall structures and raised a hand overhead. As she snapped snapped furious bolts of crimson lightning burst from the clouds and met her waiting fingers, splitting the heavens and casting the area in flashes of blood red. Over the echoes of thunder she called, "A signed invitation ought to suffice!"
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"'Spectacles' works there! Like a flashy, visual display, eh?" Ghost Girl supplied while making emphatic jazz hands to illustrate the definition. She shot Wraith a knowing grin as the Kinigosi looked up at her and added, "Not that I believe for a second any of that would have honestly scared you but it's sweet of you to say anyway! C'mon, let's see how they handle a real apex predator! Are you gonna do the vents thing? 'Cause I love the vents thing." The phantom took the direct route through the centre of the stairwell, passing leisurely through solid objects along the way while imitating the deep voice of a monster movie protagonist. "'My god. It's been watching us this whole time. It's. In. The. Veeeeents!'"
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"Have thee a stratagem?" Sekhmet inquired while pulling one of a half dozen pork filled pupusas from the paper bag she'd happily accepted from the vendor, voracious from the trip. For her part Set nibbled contemplatively at a tortilla filled with refried beans. "Our quarry tis of an unsubtle disposition. Surely someone shall know something useful." The one eye visible from behind the leonine goddess' fringe flicked about the park dubiously while she peeled the paper wrapper off with her teeth. Sparking conversation with Bedlam's residents hadn't served them well so far but they didn't have any other real leads. "Should anyone ask, inform them we be students of journalism," Set advised, making quick strides toward the first passerby she spotted. "Or better yet, mayhaps allow me to conduct the conversation."
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Having grown quite familiar with the various indications of suppressed agitation Winifred looked away from the racks of boots at the change in Raina's tone but was quickly distracted by the metal contraption dropped with a clatter at her feet before she could read much into it. The rugged and well-used measuring tool seemed at odds with the rest of the sprawling a store, a more utilitarian holdover. It was a little while before she realized that she was turning the device over in her hands in study rather than putting it to use. With a small cough she placed it back down and found a place to sit. She hesitated for a moment as she undid the laces of her sneakers, giving Matthew a glance. "This seems like vaguely sensitive information," she remarked before placing her heel into the curving backstop and standing back up as instructed. Dainty feet had been very fashionable in her day and while she considered her own to be very much proportional to her height the thought of frankly discussing the specific measurements still felt strange.
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"I am him. Who's you-- aw, not on the mats, come on!" Erik protested abruptly as Phaedra's wings burst messily from her back. When the blood dissipated before it could stain anything he instead considered the new appendages with an nonplussed expression. "Huh. Well, that answers the uncle thing. Raises a lot of, y'know, theological questions but I'm thinking we skim over that part." He'd run into Hayzel a couple of times over the years and couldn't begin to imagine what that family tree looked like. Shaking his head a bit he resumed his ready pose. "Alright. That pigsticker gives you a lot of reach but does it weigh as much as a normal one? The wings probably give you mobility if you can swing your weapon fast enough to take advantage of it. For instance!" Without further warning the fencer had crossed the distance between them in a single bounding step, kicking off with his back foot and darting forward. His fiery rapier struck three rapid blows against her glaive, exerting just enough pressure to knock the longer weapon off balance and force the teenager to recover her stance. By the moment that took he was already back out of immediate striking range and circling casually to Phae's right side, one eyebrow raised expectantly.
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There was a moment in which Detective O'Ryan came perilously close to losing the limb he put over the shoulder of the Lady of Slaughter, oblivious to the tensing muscles and preternaturally glowing eyes that signalled the goddess' imminent wrath. Only Set clearing her throat pointedly through gritted teeth stayed her hand. They hadn't come to the cesspit that was Bedlam City to dismember pigs, worthy cause thought that may have been. Getting into a prolonged fight with the local constabulary was unlikely to benefit their mission. Once they had gotten a reasonable distance away the shorter Heliopolian tossed the detective's business card into an overflowing trash receptacle in distaste. "And I thought I was in want of a shower after the bus ride," she drawled. Where they walked the chilly temperature rose several degrees in accommodation to the goddess of the desert. "Tis safe to say law enforcement shall be unhelpful." Sekhmet grunted in affirmative, still not convinced a more physical lesson in manners hadn't been needed. "...think thee the ankh be another forgery, as the loathsome Knight wielded?" "I cannot imagine any other possibility," Set replied, shoulders hunched in annoyance as the object of her greater ire was raised. "Mayhaps even crafted by the same hand."
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"If these shoe sizes make as much a mockery of standard measurements as the trousers," Winifred began before reflexively lowering her voice and leaning closer to Raina to add, "to say nothing of the undergarments, I suspect it would be best to start from scratch, so to speak." The shoes she'd been given were labeled with a startling array of different numbers on the tongue which she gathered from the notation came from some regional discrepancies but she wasn't inclined to take their word on the matter. The alchemist moved over to the racks of footwear with less hesitation than the previous sections of the store, partly due to growing familiarity with the modern shopping experience and party due to genuine enthusiasm. "I'm a bit surprised riding boots are still in vogue," she mused while poking at a series of buckles and laces to determine what was functional and what was purely decorative. "Not that most had the time or resources to actually go riding, of course but one at least wanted to give the impression. Is that still a leisure activity?"
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The council chambers erupted in voices as Raal finished his opening statements, some of the delegations shouting down the floor while most hurriedly discussed amongst themselves. While her bodyguard's eyes flicked warily across the Khanate party, Th'emme noticeable remained silent and simply folded her arms and glanced expectantly upward to the other platform disks. One by one the other delegations seemed to take notice and like a school teacher quieting her class with body language alone the hubbub dwindled to a low murmur. A soft tone accompanied an orange light illuminating on the front of the railing surrounding the platform belonging to the Grue Individuality party, drawing the attention of the rest of the chamber. It wasn't unusual for the Individuality speak first during meetings; even if they were no longer parts of a larger hive mind they remained eager to achieve consensus. As shapeshifters and telepaths they were well acquainted with subterfuge but on the whole seemed to have developed a distaste anything that obstructed clear communication, lending them a certain directness. "These ones would like to know the state of the one 'Kinan Khan'," the willowy, russet-hued humanoid at the front of the delegation spoke, chest visibly flexing as xe rearranged internal organs for better projection. Xe was wearing a white suit of breathable looking fabric in a minimalist cut, though it was always a little difficult to tell when a Grue was wearing actual clothing or merely affecting them to put solid forms more at ease. "There have been no confirmed sightings since the ship transporting him was waylaid. Please clarify, is the Ambassador claiming the Kinan Khan is alive and cogent or are these statements referencing a spiritual belief in posthumous approval?" After a beat the Grue tilted xir head to one side slightly, mimicking quizzical body language.
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"Save me, save me!" the shambling corpse mimicked in a voice that was suddenly distinctly female while waving its hands in mock terror. "That's what you sound like." The scrambling invade had only enough time to adopt a look of utter confusion before a blast of blizzard wind washed over him, leaving most of him encased in ice and rooted to the floor. A thump on the head with the butt of a scythe handle took care of the rest. Ghost Girl was back in her own form as she passed through the barricade and closed door, humming to herself. She made a sound of professional appreciation as she surveyed Wraith's handiwork in the hallway. "Ha, didn't let them get far, did you? Be honest, were the rattling doorknobs a bit on the nose? I know, it's just exactly what you'd expect from a poltergeist but I was going for an aesthetic, eh? Getting back to my roots." She bent over far enough to tap the device attached to the chest of one of the unconscious thugs curiously.
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"My family may not have been wealthy," Winifred harrumphed with slightly exaggerated indignation, "but we were well off enough that I had more than one pair of shoes. I was wearing heels a century and a half before you'd head of them." It would have been more accurate to say that she'd owned exactly two pairs of shoes at most at any given time and the heeled boots had been rather modest compared to some of the structurally unsound monstrosities on display before her but there was a point to be made. She wasn't particularly sorry to have said farewell to most of her old wardrobe and so far that day she'd gained a new appreciation for various advancements in undergarments but she did vaguely miss her boots. Footwear had been an easy way to discern a person's wealth and be extension social standing and they'd been awfully nice all things considered, not like the derisive-snort and pitying-look inducing bulk ordered clothing she'd been making do with in the present. She realized she'd been considering the 'kitten heel' shoe in Raina's hands in silence and cleared her throat quickly. "Boots," she said aloud. "I think I should like to see boots."
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Mist swirled about the floor of the darkened room, obscuring anything below knee height. The rest of the room was dominated by equipment covered in heavy tarps, indistinct shapes that might have been as benign as furniture but which invited imagination. The boldest of the intruders made it several steps inside in near silence, seemingly to confirm that it was indeed nothing more than an empty room. As soon as he began to turn back around to call to his comrades the door slammed itself shut, followed by an empty bookshelf taller than he was toppling over of its own volition and joining a half dozen chairs flung by an unseen force to form a barricade preventing his immediate exit. The resounding impact of crashing wood gave way to a low, guttural moan behind him, deeper into the room. Staggering through the mists was the recognizable silhouette of the thug who'd gone on ahead of his fellows, the shredded remains of his technological marvel hanging loosely about his neck and sparking at irregular intervals. "Bro. We shoulda never come here," he wheezed painfully as he grew closer, arms raising with obvious effort to reach with grasping fingers. The sparks illuminated him enough to reveal that his head was sitting unnaturally atop his shoulders, bone jutting out of a neck snapped violently to the left, eyes rolled back and features slack. "I'm dead, bro."
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"Do you?" Set fired back glibly, not looking up from the screen on her phone, though she did adjust the angle to make it clear the officer in question was in the shot. "The badges proclaiming their authority and duty be numbered for just such a purpose," Sekhmet explained helpfully, sounding unusually interested in the minutia of modern living even if the scowl hadn't entirely left her face. That did prompt Set to look up, glancing over her shoulder at the taller woman. "You've been watching dramatizations afresh?" The warrior goddess shrugged her bare shoulders. "I took enjoyment from The Wire, though I found the season fifth to be passing weak by comparison." "Do you know, I had heard as much? Never have I finished the viewing." "Thy be only cheating thyself," Sekhmet insisted solemnly. "Tis still well worth the trials in final summation." The redhead made a small sound of thoughtful consideration before turning back to the police officer. At some point a business card had appeared between the immaculately manicured middle and forefingers on her free hand, extended toward him. Slightly metallic blood orange ink on textured white simply proclaimed 'SET' followed by a list of web addresses and user names for a variety of online networks. "You might try asking someone younger," she suggested helpfully with a broad smile full of perfect teeth. "We're something of a big deal, Officer...?"
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"Wait, time out," Ellie interjected, forming a capital T with her hands. She looked quickly between Min and Steve before turning to Mara to confirm that she had been following what the other two were saying. "When you say they were changed the way you change plants, you mean specifically that way? Like there's another dryad running around turning Aych Oh Ess goobers into suicide troops? And using Terminus radiation to do it?" The medic gestured emphatically to her sister in law and their taciturn friend in turn, expression somewhere between incredulity and mounting horror. Min was supposed to be the last of her 'sisters' left but then again it wasn't like they'd ever seen any bodies and the white haired woman certainly made the case for her ilk being the next best thing to indestructible. "How does that even make sense? The Gorgon's whole deal was that it -- she, whatever -- was up for doing anything to keep the Terminus from grabbing planets, yeah? And not in a subtle, shadowy mastermind sort of way, either."
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Sekhmet pulled a face that managed to combine the most potent elements of a disgusted grimace and a threatening snarl, exposing unusually pronounced canines while the exposed muscle in her shoulder and arms tensed in a way that was difficult to miss. The guttural growl that came from deep in the back of her throat resonated clearly in the crisp air. There were different meanings to the word 'predator' for different contexts the leonine goddess didn't need much excuse to illustrate the gulf between them. For her part Set looked as though she were regretting looking to see what had been stuck to the bottom of her sandal. "Ew. Concern yourself not, lawman. Merely checking if tis anyone with whom we are acquainted," the redhead supplied dryly, raising her phone to begin recording the scene, schooling her expression into something cooly impassive. "Continue about the sterling work for which your department is renowned, please." It was less diplomatic that the godling generally made a point of being with police in Freedom City but besides her general irritability after the long trip researching criminal going-ons in Bedlam for the past several days had not left her with a high opinion of their counterparts in this city.
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Lou got through the entire conversation with nothing more than a few non-committal grunts; O'Malley wasn't what one would call an active listener. He snapped the archaic looking flip phone closed and regarded it stoically for a moment before slipping it into his jacket and producing a crumpled package of cigarettes in its place. "Alright, so listen," he began in a tone that was equal parts resigned sigh and irritated grumble, "I maybe got a line on the asshats from the bank job." With a few vigorous shakes he freed a single cigarette from the package and place it in the corner of his mouth to free his hands up. "Also, unrelated, I maybe got a thing that needs doing, short notice and all, see? So maybe you three give me a hand with that, get a standard cut and as a bonus for the unusual circumstances and all I make some call, make sure nobody's got any lingering questions 'bout who robbed what bank. Nice and tidy." His lighter looked like it hand been picked up at a convenience store cash register and took the better part of his pitch to produce enough flame to do its job. "How's that sound?"
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The sound of metal scraping against the flooring caused one of the intruders to spin about and look behind him, just in time to catch an obscured silhouette slipping through an open door into one of the empty rooms they'd already checked and passed. It was difficult to tell through the thick mist that surrounded them and leeched heat away even through their energy fields but the shadow might have belonged to a person... just one too tall and with limbs too thin to belong to a human. Before he could investigate an echoing giggle came from the opposite end of the hallway and the mists rippled with the passing of something unnaturally quick and low to the ground, disappearing through another doorway. The laugher was off-key somehow, like something with the wrong flesh trying to replicate the sound. The sound came more frequently then, all around them and accompanied by strange shapes in the fog, close enough to startle the hardened criminals but too quick to grab. All the while the open doors rattled, room they knew were empty now looming like gaping maws. All the while the temperature continued to drop until there was no brushing it off as some burst pipe or any other reasonable explanation. Something unintelligible was whispered in one man's ear, nearly causing him to throw a punch at the crony to his right. He turned about, eyes narrowed and searching for the source of the noises when abruptly they stopped. The was a beat of complete silence, then another and then with a deafening bang every door in the hallway slammed shut. Frames rattled and deadbolts clacked into place, mist pushed about by displaced air. Only one door remained open, at the very far edge of what the group could make out through the icy shroud, beckoning with a slow creak.
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The clouds over Bedlam didn't turn any friendlier as the deity of storms stepped off of the bus in her female aspect. Set's brick red dreadlocks hung bound with a simple leather cord over one shoulder while flashing grey eyes took in the sad state of the terminal from behind round, vintage style sunglasses. She wore a white hoodie a size or two too big open over a clingy black top emblazoned with an iconic 'parental advisory' warning that was arguably a size too small. Heeled sandals beneath artfully ripped stonewash jeans echoed against the pavement as the godling strode purposefully into the parking lot as if expecting to find the object of her ire waiting for them. "Calm thyself," her taller companion advised in a weary grumble. Sekhmet tugged the brim of her yellow ball cap down and wrinkled her nose at the offensive odours of their destination. Her track pants were a matching canary yellow with black trim up the sides and her ankh pendent rested atop a cropped, sleeveless black top. The warrior deity arched her back in a distinctly feline manner, trying to do away with the stiffness that came with their undignified means of conveyance. "The wise predator familiarizes herself with new hunting grounds before cornering prey." "Tell that to our pretender, Lady of Slaughter!" Set shot back hotly, angrily scrolling through a discussion thread about 'Lady Horus' on her phone. "Tis no secret Bedlam bears no regard for the heroic traditions. Either she be a fool or else has something to hide and I will stand for neither while she lays claim to that title." The foreboding clouds overhead rumbled. Focusing on the nearby crime scene she resumed her purposeful strides. "The bleached braggart seeks out misfortune as her stage, so then shall we! Come!"
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Set Gather Information check: 1d20+16 30 Knowledge (Pop Culture) check: 1d20+10 17
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"Ra's damnable polished dome!" Tripping over himself as he scrambled up from his reclined position on the couch in the apartment's living room Set stopped just short of hurling his phone at the wall. Instead he gritted his teeth and exhaled slowly before tossing it forcefully into the cushions, freeing up the godling's fingers to massage the divine tension headache growing at the base of his skull. The mortals had managed to go years respecting the name and legacy of his brother and now appropriative knock-offs seemed to be coming out of the proverbial woodwork. As if Horus would set up in a dilapidated, city-sized tire fire like Bedlam. There were days he empathized with his elder self's apocalyptic goals than he knew he ought. "Sekhmet!" he shouted, stomping off to his room. "Pack your mauling sandals! There be hallowed comeuppance to mete out!"
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Erik frowned slightly at the young blonde's pithy comment. Using a dry one-liner to deflect actual emotional baggage came right out the old Jack of all Blades playbook and his instinct was to press the matter but it was neither the time nor place. Instead he schooled his features into a sardonic expression that matched the teenager's demeanour and drawled, "Forgot who I was talking to about trust there for a second. Point taken." He briefly wondered if it was something she'd be more willing to talk to Talya about or if she'd be too concerned with looking cool and composed in front of the older woman. It hadn't been so longer that he didn't remember being almost impossible to talk to at that age; letting her work through it herself might be the only real solution. It occurred to him that in a few years he'd have four of those running around and suddenly felt very, very tired. The fencer ran a hand over his face, rubbing the stubble along his jawline while looking back over his shoulder at Cathy and Phaedra. Nothing Raina had said was particularly reassuring but he couldn't help thinking about the scars he still had from those younger days when he'd been figuring out his powers through trail and error in the heat of a fight. Frank discussions about feeling might have been a little out of reach but maybe he could save someone a few bumps and bruises or worse. Eventually he heaved a sigh and caught Talya's eye, giving her a broad shrug. "Alright, Dora," he told Raina, "let's at least make this look good. Set me up with a little fire when I give you the signal, yeah?" Turning around he took a few steps back toward the centre of the training mats. "Listen up, ladies. Here's the deal: what I'm going to show you doesn't leave this room, got it? We're talking privileged information." He paused with his hands on his hips and considered changing his mind one last time before nodding to Raina. Once the floating witch had summoned a ball of roiling flame above her palm he extended his own hand with a flourish. Streamers of fire responded to his call, red-orange ribbons twisting across the empty space, weaving together as they came. What coalesced in his waiting hand was nearly solid, nearly opaque but still flickered and crackled like a living thing, an arc of fire gracefully curving around his fingers to form a guard while the long, thin blade that extended above it tapered to a needle's point. With a flourish he snapped the blazing rapier up into an en guarde position and gave Phaedra a lopsided smirk. "First joke about yours being bigger and I will kick you out, fair warning."
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"Shoulder length might not be so terribly bad," Winifred allowed cautiously, giving her reflection one last look before moving to take some of the clothes back from Matt to carry herself. She wasn't some delicate flower about to wilt under the strain, after all and if the redistribution of items removed the pairs of leggings she'd hesitantly included from under her classmate's nose that was most likely entirely beside the point. "Thank you, Matthew." The displaced Victorian considered Raina's own hairstyle as they moved on. "I'm not clear how hair could be anything other than layered but I suppose I'll have to defer to your expertise. I doubt I would take well to being a blonde, however." She also hadn't been planning to worry overmuch about footwear. The 'sneakers' provided to her by the school were far and away the most comfortable shoes she'd ever worn and from observing the rest of the Academy's student body they seemed to be considered appropriate with very nearly any casual outfit. Seeing the pyromancer's expression as she led them toward the next section of the sprawling shop silenced any objections she might have been thinking to raise. "You had some thoughts on that count, I take it."
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"Well. That's not hellfire," Erik mused quietly to himself. Whatever the redhead had done was skirting the edges of his senses; there was magic at work, certainly, thrumming like plucked strings in complimentary colours to the synthesia of his metamagi senses but that was just the framework. The power behind the manifested weapon was beyond his expertise but given how it had been formed and the personalize results he was able to make some educated guesses. "Don't worry about it, Snowflake," he assured Cathy, rubbing his hands together in the abrupt cold that spread through the room. The fencer didn't bother pretending to be surprised by the display of otherworldly power or to conceal the careful adjudication in his gaze. "Polearms it is. Get warmed up, Red, I just need a minute." Walking across the practice mats to where Raina was hovering he positioned himself so that his back was to the other girls and lowered his voice. "Alright, kid, help me out here. I'm guessing I don't have to explain why I'm uniquely qualified to teach the winner of Miss Brimstone 2016 back there how to use weapons she makes from what's around her. But that would mean putting her and your friend on the very short list of people besides family who know what's what." It was a grimly serious as the young witch had ever seen her mentor's partner even when she'd watched them sparring. While he'd shed some of the paranoid fervour with which he'd protected his secret identity even from those he trusted at the beginning of his career it wasn't something he ever took lightly, not with so many people depending on him. Blue eyes stared intently into blue eyes. "Can I trust them?"
