Night Floors (IC)

[trollthumper]

The Piedmont was a testament to some other time, a castle tower amongst buildings of brick and steel. It was a brownstone raised tall, bedecked with gargoyles and other ornaments. Wrought iron, barely flecked by rust, lined the front walk, a stretch of brick that was just starting to sprout weeds. In a city that had been built up and torn down so many times -- some of them even intentional -- it was a wonder that it was still standing.

Cannonade kept his eyes on the Piedmont from the alley across the way, trying to figure out why it was so important to the Yellow Kings. He'd found the gangsters on a tour of the back alleys of Southside, talking about "the Smoke of Holly" or something like that. He'd thought they were talking about their product... at least, until the topic took another strange turn, towards discussions about the Piedmont and "the winding stage." That was when the members of the Death Road Ministry had come out of the nightclub, and all discussion about the Piedmont ceased in favor of Cannonade interrupting a minor gang war. The Yellow Kings weren't all too ready to talk about the building after that.

Cannonade had done his research before coming to the Piedmont. An architectural treasure it might have been, but up until a few years ago, it was in a serious state of disrepair. It had taken the efforts of an award-winning poet from Lincoln to begin a renewal effort on the building. Within two years, it had built up a reputation as an artist's commune, a place for wannabes to cool their feet and pool their minds and for experienced creatives to try to get in touch with the pulse of new thought.

The Yellow Kings usually operate out of Southside, he thought, so what do they want with this place? They running drugs out of one of the apartments? Maybe they're using one of the apartments as a safehouse for guys the FCPD's looking for...

In any case, he wasn't going to get answers out of here. He crossed the street, walked up the brick path, and entered the building.

[Lone Star]

The Yellow Kings seemed to like KC a lot. They always seemed to attack him at the least opportune moments, especially when out with friends. It was so rare that he even went with friends in the first place. But he had heard a lot about them, and none good. His most recent research (which may or may not have involved some scaring of the local criminal element) told him that they were operating in the Piedmont, a modern-day castle. He decided to investigate. His current position was atop a tall building. He had practiced the proceeding maneuver for quite some time, although he almost killed himself the first time trying it.

He breathed in deeply, and jumped, his black hair flying behind him. "Cthulhu f'thagn." he whispered, and he felt his body morph and change, and his wings sprung out from his back, flapping and catching his momentum. He was now soaring above the cars, getting quite a few stares and honked, but he felt free as a bird. As he swooped towards the entrance, he saw a man wearing a red flight jacket and what appeared to be a Spartan helmet. This was interesting. He landed next to him. "Hi!"

[trollthumper]

Cannonade heard the settling of leathery wings, and turned to his right --

So. Many. ****ing. Tentacles.

After wrestling down the urge to scream, he took the measure of what he was seeing. In fact, he'd seen it before...

"You're Kid Cthulhu, aren't you?" he said, somehow managing to barely pronounce "Cthulhu." "Saw your photo in the paper. Gotta say, you look a bit different in profile." Cannonade then noticed that Kid Cthulhu seemed to have landed perfectly right where the brick walk started. "Let me guess. You've got business at the Piedmont, too."

[Lone Star]

KC looked at him. "Yep. Pretty much. What's your name, King Leonidas?" he said, gesturing to his Spartan helmet. "I'm also going to avoid the Trojan Man joke. But yes, on topic, I heard that the Yellow Kings were roosting here, and they piss me the hell off. So I'm going to kick ass and chew gum."

[trollthumper]

"Well, good a plan as any. Name's Cannonade, by the way." Cannonade extended his hand to Kid Cthulhu. "But yeah, I've been following the Yellow Kings, too. They sound like they've got something going on here -- for all I know, it could be a poker game, but it sounds a bit bigger than that." He looked to the doorway. "You wanna take the lead? You sound like you know more about their game than I do."

[Lone Star]

KC shook his hand warmly. Or, moistly would be a more accurate description. Still, he was glad that Cannonade was so willing to shake his hand, most people just cringe. "Sounds fine by me. Let's roll, Cannonade." He entered the building with him, and held out a hand. He ignited the mystic flames, and they glowed warmly, illuminating the room with green.

[trollthumper]

The interior of the building was well-furnished -- finished oak panels made up the floor, covered with fine carpets. The wrought-iron railings, unlike their counterparts outside, were completely rust-free and well cared for. The lights cast a faint, warm glow over the building. Cannonade had to admit, it was doing its job -- the whole place had this warm feel to it. But something else stood out...

"I don't hear anyone."

Cannonade ventured down the hall and ducked into the common area. He'd only really seen pictures of private libraries in movies, so he had to imagine this was like a low-key version of one of them. The chairs were plush, if not fancy, the bookshelves lined the walls, and there was even a stereo in the back of the room. And on the table in the middle of the room...

"Uh, Kid? You might wanna come take a look at this..."

The table was a repository of junk, laid out in a strangely precise manner. A manuscript with half the lines crossed out in black ink, a bus ticket to Atlantic City torn in two, a glass half full of water with a strawberry floating in it, what looked like someone's baby teeth, a pale white mask with no eye holes, a plate of silver dollars arranged in a spiral, and a marionette with the strings tied into a knot.

"Either I found the world's weirdest jigsaw puzzle, or... well, I don't know what the hell it is."

[Lone Star]

"Uh, Kid? You might wanna come take a look at this..."

The table was a repository of junk, laid out in a strangely precise manner. A manuscript with half the lines crossed out in black ink, a bus ticket to Atlantic City torn in two, a glass half full of water with a strawberry floating in it, what looked like someone's baby teeth, a pale white mask with no eye holes, a plate of silver dollars arranged in a spiral, and a marionette with the strings tied into a knot.

"Either I found the world's weirdest jigsaw puzzle, or... well, I don't know what the hell it is."

KC walked into the room and stared at the table for a moment, trying to figure out some kind of pattern. He reached out with the creative side of his mind, trying to find some kind of symbolism or clue that would lead them to some kind of conclusion. After about three minutes, KC said "Well, I'm stumped. Whatever they were trying to do is lost on me. I'm sure there's some kind of symbolism with it though...I wouldn't touch it if I were you. The Yellow Kings might be getting into some dark magic business."

[trollthumper]

"Magic, huh?" said Cannonade. "Not my department. Really not my department." He looked at the strange pile of detritus. "I thought the dark stuff was more about, y'know, virgin sacrifices, 'hail Satan,' all that stuff. Not... I dunno, junk piles."

He took a look around the living room, trying to find anything unusual -- well, aside from the strange collection on the table. He noticed that three of the bookshelves in the room had books lined up in order, like a librarian's sense of Heaven... but one had entire rows where books were laid haphazardly. He went over to check.

"Hmm... let's see, A Game of Thrones, The Gods of... Peg-anna? The Tempest, Salome, The King in --"

The general quiet -- and Cannonade's mutterings -- were interrupted by a soft, rolling sound. Music was coming from upstairs.

[Lone Star]

"Eh, only infernal magic is like that. But this might be something preternatural...something right up my alley. As Cannonade read off the titles of the plays, one made KC's tentacles freeze in place. "The King in what? Cannonade, whatever you do, do not open that play. Throw it on the floor. I've heard some bad ju-ju is involved with it."

KC tilted his head to the side as he heard music from upstairs. He looked at Cannonade, put a finger to his mouth to signify silence, and slowly walked up the stairs.

[trollthumper]

"...all right, you're the expert," Cannonade said as he dropped the book on the floor, right as the music began to kick in. He then crept behind Kid Cthulhu, following the trail of the music. About halfway of the steps, lyrics -- well, not quite lyrics, but poetry set to music, underlaid with the scratching of a needle on an old record -- joined the harmony, followed by the voices of others.

"Along the shore the cloud waves break -- "

"So why aren't we allowed upstairs yet?"

"Because he doesn't want the risk of contamination. Everything's going pure right now. If another actor's introduced, it could break the stage. We want apotheosis, not cataclysm."

"...but stranger still is, lost Carcosa."

"Then why are we babysitting this one?"

"This one's not going upstairs. He's enlightened -- I mean, look at some of the stuff he's started drawing -- but he's not swept up. Word is he's actually afraid."

"Afraid? Why would he be afraid?"

"Beats me."

"...where flap the tatters of the king..."

Cannonade took position at the side of the door, waiting for the signal from Kid Cthulhu.

[Lone Star]

KC summons otherworldly flames and bursts down the door. "Everyone out of the room. There will be no reading of cursed plays while I'm in town. Now everyone get down on the floor, hands over your head." he said with a voice of authority.

[trollthumper]

Cannonade slid in behind Kid Cthulhu, taking in the sight. The green light shone upon the dimly-lit room, revealing three of the Yellow Kings standing over a couch. Instead of the usual colors of the Kings, they were wearing finely tailored suits whose style seemed to call back to the Twenties. Next to the couch was a record player, which appeared to be the source for the strange recital.

"You heard the man," he said. "We can do this easy or--"

"It's the Dreamer's Spawn," said one of the gangsters. "Should've known he'd come!" Almost as one, the Kings drew their guns and opened fire on the duo.

"Hard it is, then."

[Lone Star]

KC dodged the bullets, and held both of his hands out. He felt the mystic power surge up inside him, and his eyes glowed green, and his tentacles flew out and began twitching and flowed. He shouted aloud as the power flowed through his veins and out through his palms. He felt the power burst out and the fireballs roared out, a dozen or more, and they flew towards the thugs.

[trollthumper]

The eldritch fire washed over the Kings on the opposite ends of the couch, bathing them in a cold blaze that smelled of camphor and inevitability. They fell to the ground, screaming in nerve-searing pain. The gangster in front of the couch managed to dodge the blast of fire, but as he raised his gun, Cannonade moved in, striking him in the gut and sending him tumbling over the back of the sofa. He looked down at the bullet hole in his shirt.

"I really gotta look into those Atom clothes..." he said to himself. He then looked over the couch to check on the gangster, and froze. There was a man lying on the couch -- unbuttoned shirt, loose jeans, sneakers, wild hair. He seemed unfazed by the gangster lying at the foot of the sofa, and was mouthing along to the scratchy recording.

"Song of the soul, my voice is dead, die thou, unsung, as tears unshed..."

He was mouthing along perfectly. Incredibly well. Almost... Cannonade's gaze turned to the record player. It wasn't on. There wasn't even a record on it.

"Kid... I don't suppose this kind of performance is normal?"

[Lone Star]

KC looked at the man mouthing along. "Generally, no. There are dark forces at work here. Let's look around a bit to see if we can find any clues. KC said as he began to search the room. He overturned everything, making sure not to miss any important details.

[trollthumper]

Looking around the darkened apartment, Kid Cthulhu soon discovered a studio corner. With a little balefire, he was able to cast a light on some of the paintings hanging on the wall -- they appeared to be pop art recreations of the underground comics published during the Moore Age, capturing the adventures of outlaw hero groups such as FORCE Ops.

At least, the older paintings did. A few paintings lay on the ground, the canvas slashed or the images run through with lines of black paint. A shining city that seems to stand both before and at the far end of a lake of mist, with the moon framed -- from behind -- by its tallest towers. A formal dance, the dancers all tied to strings hanging from the ceiling, parting for a man in a pallid mask. An old style smoking lounge with a convivial audience, laughing despite the tears in their eyes, as a man in a tattered yellow robe passes unseen amongst them. Underneath the painting of the smoking lounge, Kid Cthulhu found a few stray papers. They were written in the format of a play, and each one had lines meant for "THE ARTIST." From what KC could tell, it seemed to be a melodrama about the lives of the inhabitants of an apartment building, dealing with the presence of a new tenant known as "THE MASK SALESMAN."

"...shall dry and die in, lost Carcosa."

The recital cut away in a storm of record scratches, then cut off entirely. The man on the couch opened his eyes, then looked to Cannonade.

"Whoa, whoa," Cannonade said before the man could scream. "It's okay, all right? We're the good guys. We're here to help."

The man looked over the side of the couch to see the King lying prostrate on the floor. "And he would be...?"

"He... might be a bad guy. I know this is gonna sound weird, but there's some sort of... hostage situation going on here --"

The man on the couch started to weep. Cannonade, trying to find something helpful to do, but a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," the man said, "it's just... God, I thought I was going crazy. No one else in the halls at night... everyone going weird... my paintings... you have any idea what the hell this is?"

[Lone Star]

KC looked at Cannonade. He tried to comfort the old man, and pulled a Kleenex out of his pocket and handed it to him. "Just calm down and try to tell us what happened. You're with us, and you're safe now. Now try to tell us what's happening with the halls and the paintings." KC looked around the room. This was getting too strange.

[trollthumper]

The man on the couch appeared to be in his late twenties, though obviously recent activities seemed to have aged him a bit. He took the Kleenex from Kid Cthulhu, not seeming to mind the hand that was offering it. Once he was done drying his eyes, he began to speak.

"It started a few weeks back," he said. "At least, I think it did. People started acting different at night. It's like... you ever have a relative with Alzheimer's? Doctors talk about how they 'sundown,' lose lucidity once night falls. It was like... everyone started doing that. Maureen kept reading aloud to herself in the lounge, Jane started painting the hallways, and Brett... I kept hearing things coming out of Brett's room. Then they just started... disappearing, y'know? I mean, at night. They'd still be there during the day, but sometimes I felt I was the only one in here at night.

"Then I started having the dreams. I'd start feeling tired, I'd lie down on the couch... and then I'd wake up, and I'm at the easel and there's a complete painting right in front of me." He gestured to the destroyed paintings over in the studio area. "I've got no idea where this stuff comes from, and I don't wanna."

"You said it started a few weeks back," Cannonade said. "Anything weird happen around that time? Anything related to a play?"

The artist thought. "Come to think of it... well, it's stupid, but we've got this little salon thing we do Thursday nights. Get together in the lounge to debate dead authors, forgotten artists, politics, all that stuff. About a month back, Jane said she wanted us to discuss a play she'd been recommended by a guy at that used bookstore in Riverside. I would've gone to the discussion, but... well, I ate some bad Korean for lunch. Kinda had to skip. But afterwards... it was like she got religion. She said she was working on a new play, said she wanted me to 'provide perspective' on some pages she'd wrote. I told her I couldn't tell Stoppard from Punch and Judy, but she didn't seem to care."

Cannonade looked to Kid Cthulhu. "You said the play's bad just if you read it," he said. "Guessing it's worse if there's a full cast?"

[Lone Star]

"This is bad. Bad bad bad bad bad. I've read the story about this play. Nothing good can come from this. We need to search the building, and maybe call the police. We can't be alone with it in here." KC said, almost to the point of shaking. He had no idea that the play was real, and there was no telling how much magical power it could hold. He was shaking a little more now, and sat down. "I'm pretty freaked, Cannonade."

[trollthumper]

"All right," Cannonade said. He turned to the artist. "It'd probably be best if you got out of here for now. There's a coffee shop around the corner -- go there, get something to drink, and call the FCPD. Tell them it's an occult-related matter, there are two heroes on hand, but we may need back-up. Got it?"

The artist nodded. Cannonade escorted him from the apartment, then came back to Kid Cthulhu a few minutes later. "I made sure he got out the front door," he said, "and barricaded it in case the weirdness calls him back. So, what the hell do we do next? Those Kings were talking about 'upstairs'..."

[Lone Star]

"Good thinking. We need to explore what else is in this apartment and see if we can find anymore Yellow Kings. We need to find this play and destroy it before its spell compels us. Let's keep going up." KC said as he trooped up the next set of stairs.

[trollthumper]

Kid Cthulhu trudged up the stairs, with Cannonade following close behind. The third floor seemed deserted. No sounds, no signs of life, nothing. The doors were all locked, and no noise leaked out from behind them. There was one thing that stood out, however. On the roof access door, someone had traced a strange symbol in what looked like dry clay. Cannonade put his ear to the door, then turned back to Kid Cthulhu. "I don't hear a thing," he said, "but I don't think that's a guarantee in a place like this."

He opened the door to find a staircase... and with the open door came a riot of noise and smells. Cigar smoke and jazz wafted down from above. Tentatively, Cannonade ascended the stairs, only to come to rest in a new puzzle.

He found himself in what appeared to be a smoking lounge. The walls were decorated with early lithographs of no place he had ever imagined. The floor was carpeted with a pattern that seemed to ensnare the eye. Men and women sat in chairs of rich leather, smoking cigars, sipping drinks, and laughing at jokes they didn't seem to understand.

"I thought this building only had three floors..." he said.

[Lone Star]

KC shuddered at the sight of the symbol. He had never seen anything quite like it. As they entered the room, KC was baffled by the possibility that there was another floor. "This just keeps getting weirder and weirder." He walked up the stairs with Cannonade, and his brain started to hurt as he tried to wrap his mind around this place. He heard the pleasing sounds of jazz and the cigar smoke from the room above, and they entered. KC felt a little dizzy at this. He turned to Cannonade. "Should we talk to one of them, or something?"

[trollthumper]

Cannonade went up to a woman sitting in a nearby chair, dressed in antique clothes that were thread-bare in spots, as if they'd come from the back rack of a vintage store. "Excuse me, miss..."

The woman turned around, a smile pasted on her face. "Oh, new visitors!" she said. "And such costumes! Mind you, Halloween's not for... some time now, but I like them! So daring."

Cannonade looked down at his costume. "Yeah, I... guess you could say that," he said. "Listen, my friend and I were just passing by when this place caught our attention. Seems... interesting. Does it have a name, or...?"

"Ah, I see you've found the Smoking Lounge!" she said. "Or it's found you. It's a revelation, isn't it? A great place to draw in the inspiration... I mean, there's so much that happens here, so... much..."

The smile flicker on her face for a second, as if she was recalling a bad memory. It righted itself quickly, however. "But where are my manners?" she said. "My name's Maureen. And yours?"