architecture.
It is the weekend. Offices closed a
bit early. Those who would work all weekend -- as many do -- choose to
close their laptops and do that work from home. By six, offices are
dark and empty. By seven, many cleaning staffs have gone through or are
finishing up.
By ten, the areas around buildings are just
trafficked enough that someone walking by, even going in, will not
attract too much attention.
--
Here is what they know, and have learned in the past several days:
The
first, and most immediately discouraging fact, is that Mr. Curtis
Fentress is out of town. Out of the state, in fact. Moreover, he is
not even in the boundaries of the United States. Mr. Fentress is in
Dubai working on a new project. This was one of the easiest things to
learn: a news release, a quote given to a reporter about looking forward
to being personally on the ground with his partners in the Middle East
to work on the building.
The second thing is an overview of past
projects both in Denver and elsewhere, brought in by Ms. Illeshazy's
sources or Reese Evans's hacking or just some friendly Glass Walker with
an itch to scratch. There's nothing much there. Sure there are
occasional rounds fought with lizard people and whatnot -- they don't
seem to be fomori or Spirals -- under and around DIA, and sure they've
learned, again from the ever-helpful Ms. Illeshazy, that Cold Crescent
essentially sits atop a mine of Gaia knows what, something bad, something that the Beloved Horror can merely stand and summon terror from.
If
other buildings that Fentress has worked on are similar, the research
does not find it. No similar spoked-wheel patterns of fights and
atrocities around the areas, no discernible compositions to the
buildings that hints at some occult significance. Maybe Hector could
make more of it. Maybe the people who taught the people who taught
Hector could figure it out, but the pattern-loving brains of humans and
near-humans cannot find in the blueprints or layouts or photographs of
Fentress's projects a hint of how their construction could tap into or
create portals, mines, pits, or anything else of that sort.
As the days go by between the warmoot and the moot,
the information that Lola gets from various sources doesn't add up to
much more than dead ends and hanging threads that were maybe never tied
to anything anyway.
Then,
a few matters of public record start floating, slowly and swaying in a dark current, towards the surface.
Changes
to initial plans and blueprints. Letters or emails or messages handed
off between people, notes made on agreements and contracts indicating
that something in the plans needed to be updated or switched around to
some new configuration. Always architect-initiated. Fentress himself
or someone at his firm on his behalf. Lists of jargon usually follow,
explanations for why something needs to be changed, why this new
material, why this digging has to be undone and that element abandoned.
It does not seem odd, and such things happen all the time in
construction projects, but it is noticable, and noted, to people who
realize that Something Is Wrong.
Interestingly: none of those
notes and changes have anything to do with 1999 Broadway. They're all
regarding the massive project that was DIA, many years after 1999
Broadway was finished.
So that's weird. A little. Not much to go on.
It
gets to the point where less and less can be found out remotely,
distantly, by digging in records and emails. Feet have to go on the
ground. Those feet turn out to be Lola and Milton's feet. Those feet
which are now on the ground outside of a not-so-tall building that
houses the offices of Fentress Architects, on Broadway and Fourth.
Lola Hawkes
Lola
isn't very good at digging for information, personally. She was
impossible with a computer and didn't study in schools so she lacked
patience for academic research as well. Lola was a results kind of
girl. The sort of person that worked with their hands and puzzled
things out in a more manual, personal way than just staring at
blueprints and trying to put yarn strings from one dot on a map to
another.
But she did try anyways. She'd meet with people in parks
and diners and take files home from them. She'd shown the blueprints
to Hector once, but their heads together couldn't find any hints so they
placed that aside and found something different to focus on instead.
But
then a call from a Kinfolk and there was a new direction-- something to
be more focused on. A surge of notes, tweaks to plans, emails
uncovered, tidbits here or there. All to alter the Denver International
Airport. There was a flicker of pride in Lola's chest that she showed
no one when this conclusion was drawn. Her immediate concern when this
information came out at the Warmoot was the airport, after all.
But
then, no more could be found through computers and public records and
deep personal files saved in difficult-to-tap databases. People had to
go to the ground, and Lola was more than happy to. Her partner had to
be a Glass Walker, naturally, because Lola alone was more feral than the
city did well with.
So Lola and Milton walked up the sidewalk on
the block that housed the office buildings, having been walking with him
for the past twenty minutes or so to shake attention. When they come
upon the building, Lola stops a dozen feet from its side wall rather
than directly in front of it. Hands in her jacket pockets, she turned
her head to Milton, raised her eyebrows, and asked:
"Hey. Can you do alarms on these doors with your phone? Like you did the car alarm in that parking lot?"
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
Milton's
feet hit the ground and he takes the time to yawn and stretch himself
out. His rage could be disconcerting, but the scrawny young man hardly
looked like the criminal sort, he blended into the urban landscape
surprisingly well despite the weight of his rage. He wasn't necessarily
here to play around with the Humanfolk, that is why they had a kin on
hand, but he was likely one of the better choices around as far as the
possibility of bumping into humans went!
He even wore a white
shirt and tie, glasses, and he had his electricians toolbox on hand...
You'd be surprised how many buildings you can just walk around inside if
you look like someone from the tech department.
He took the time
to look the building over, a personal assessment, and he attempted to
mark structural weak points, escape routs, and other important details,
as he was working on the assumption they would be going inside!
"If
they've got a computer system controlling it, yeah... Otherwise I can
attempt to disable it manually." He says with a bright smile growing on
his face. He was a Glasswalker and he was damn well proud of that.
architecture.
[Just
to clarify: blueprints to DIA have not been possible to obtain. The
changes being made are discussed in emails or in sketches but not in
readily-hacked images or layouts.]
architecture.
Quite
some distance south of downtown, this area is not as heavily trafficked
or as covered in security. It's just an architecture firm, after all.
There's some condos over that way, a car rental lot across the street,
and so on. People walking -- it is a Friday night, after all, even if
it is growing so cold that at night the air makes one think of full
winter -- northward, to catch a bus up to LoDo.
On the front doors
there is a black box, much like the one outside of 1990 Broadway, the
sort one uses a magnetic key card on to unlock the doors. There is no
sign of alarms, but then: they wouldn't be very good alarms.
Lola Hawkes
"Well," Lola says to Milton. "Let's get to it."
He
had his tool kit with him. Lola, the satchel at her hip. He looked
like he was coming in to fix something, maybe the last job of his shift
tonight before he could finally go home and rest-- that overtime will
kill ya. She could pass for his girlfriend, but only because she was a
woman that couldn't possibly be his relative that was walking around
town with him as a couple.
She'd start walking toward the front
door and stop in front of the building, and wait for Milton to catch up
to her and get to work on the door. Then she would turn about, putting
her back to the Ragabash while he worked his tech-magic, and keep an eye
out on the streets around.
Lola didn't much care for the city,
but she didn't stick out like a sore thumb here at-- not nearly so bad
as Calden the Fianna Kin, at least. She wore black boots and
straight-legged jeans and a black leather jacket that fit her
comfortably rather than loosely. There was a black knit cap to keep her
head warm, and her hair was tied into a single braid that fell down her
back. She had a satchel at her hip, on a long strap that went over the
opposite shoulder and crossed her chest.
In that satchel: one
revolver, one ziplock baggie of spirit-imbued herbs, and a bottle of
water that's had one fourth of it drained away.
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
"If
they have a security system there's probably going to be a pad at the
employee entrance, but there might be one right up there," he says while
pointing at the front entrance. "I don't see anything too complex, so
if they have one it should be a simple keypad... Which is a computer,
which means I can disable it." He says before patting his toolkit. "And
if they don't, this should get us in easily enough..." He then looks at
the Magnetic lock and he pauses a moment or two to ponder the system.
"I
might have to attempt to manually disable that, though..." He says
softly. "I guess we'll see when we get there!" He says with a bright
smile, looking as if he was excited about this. "Though, if it comes
down to it... We can just smash a window once the security system is
off. Leave a baseball or something behind, no one will be the wiser." He
says with a nod of his head.
Discretion was important in this
kind of situation, they don't necessarily want the company to know what
the Garou might be after. They wouldn't want them to hide it after all.
architecture.
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (5) ( fail )
architecture.
[Milton: a perception + tech roll please.]
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
[Woot! Uhm *Looks at sheet*... Right!]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 10) ( success x 3 )
architecture.
Either
someone did not care how this turned out or someone knew that it was
going to happen anyway, but somewhere along the line, it was decided
that the city-hating, trigger-happy kin who thinks she's an ahroun and
the packless ragabash who can't keep still and really loves blowing shit
up were the best pair possible to sneak into an office and dig around
in someone's files. Naturally. They are the best possible team.
But
here's the thing: Lola doesn't really need backup. Lola has proven
that time and again. No one is really worried about Lola in terms of
handling violence. And Milton is there for exactly the skills he loves
so much: the ones that make him one of Cockroach's many many children.
The ones that make him comfortable in the city in a way that even the
kinswoman is not. He knows how those magnetic locks work better than
Lola does.
Knows that really, when you get down to it, it's just a lock.
One controlled by magnets instead of a physically inserted key. There
are tumblers and a bolt. It's just a machine, in the end. And not a
very complicated one.
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
[Rolling Control Simple Machines, before I post! So I know the results and we can just keep going! ]
Dice: 5 d10 TN7 (3, 5, 7, 8, 10) ( success x 3 )
Lola Hawkes
"Holy
shit, Milton." There's a rumble of aggravation to Lola's voice when
she speaks. She isn't hissing quietly at him or even whispering. Her
tone is low, but comfortable enough. There's no tight chord of anxiety
to be found. She glances back over her shoulder at the young man while
he inspects the lock and thinks out loud.
"Can't you think
quietly?" The question comes with more restraint than the exasperated
vocalization that preluded it. She's cut him off from talking once
before because she felt that he would ramble for much too long if she
allowed it. This time she waited until he'd petered himself out and
interjected afterwards.
Maybe this was just his process. But when
someone was used to lonesome silence for so long, being around a
talkative lad seemed much chattier than it probably actually was.
architecture.
Thunk.
The
lock clicks. The light on the magnetic box does not turn green, but
the telltale sound of the lock coming undone is heard clearly enough.
Quiet: clear only to those standing at the door. A simple grasp and
pull then is all it takes to bring them into the dark, well-appointed,
temperature-controlled lobby. At least inside it is warmer.
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
She
asks him a question which puts a smile on his face, "Oh I'm doing
plenty of that already," he says softly, "it's the talking part that's
hard to do quietly."
Milton looks around cautiously and then
towards Lola. "I don't see any signs of a Security system here... We
should still move quickly once we're inside. Find what we need and get
out as soon as possible." He states the unknown, and adds a little
obviousness at the end. You never want miscommunications, especially in a
tense situation like this, so he's simply being cautious.
He
walks up to the Magnetic lock and, juuuuuust to be safe, he pulls out a
card from his wallet, which he pretends to be using in an attempt to
open the machine. In reality he was attempting to use one of his gifts
to open the lock, but there was a veil in place for a reason, not to
mention there was still a possibility that they were being watched, so
he wanted everything to look natural!
Once he had unlocked the
door he opens it and holds it open for her. "After you!" He says
politely letting her enter first, and following shortly after. Oh how he
smiled right now... This was some serious secret agent shit right here!
Who wouldn't love every second of this?
architecture.
There is a directory on the wall. Fentress Architects is not hard to find.
Fifth floor.
Lola Hawkes
Milton's
answer to her telling him (in more polite terms than last time) to be
quiet was softly spoken and with a bit of a smile. He said it wasn't
the thinking quiet that was hard, it was the talking quiet that was.
This got a low huffing sound of humor, and the surly Kinswoman's
expression relaxed some, but that was it.
Then came the faint
'click' and Milton straightened and opened the door for her, gesturing
for her to go first. Lola's eyebrows hopped up, and after a glance up
and down the sidewalk she walked through the door that was held open for
her. Only once the door was closed behind them did she comment:
"Guess it was a damn good idea to bring a Glass Walker, after all."
They'd
need to be quick, he pointed out. He wasn't sure what type of security
system there was still. Inside it was warmer, so Lola unzipped her
leather jacket and let it hang open to reveal the loose heather-gray
V-neck tee underneath. The directory was spotted after a moment's
searching, and she announced after skimming for a name: "Fifth floor,
then."
She would want to default to the stairs, but if Milton pointed out an elevator instead she could be convinced to take that.
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
"Eight
minutes..." He says to Lola. "Average Police response time in the
Denver area." Milton agrees that the stairs are the best choice, he
doesn't even hint at the elevator. Some things really don't need to be
communicated. "Eleven Minutes, but I lowered it to account for the lower
crime rate in this area. If the police are gonna come it's gonna be in
about that time." He was fairly certain they didn't need to worry too
much at the moment, but you never can tell, and the last thing they need
is to find the building surrounded by the police as they exit.
He
wasn't too worried about the stairwell. Those were the least likely
areas to contain security systems... Entrances and exits, lobbiss,
hallways... Etc. Of course his hope was that this whole thing would go
smoothly and they'd just walk out the front door! However, he's seen
enough spy movies to know it NEVER goes that way!
architecture.
The
stairs, then. Five flights. Even someone in reasonably good shape
feels it in their thighs and lungs. Maybe Milton doesn't; Milton is not
human. Milton can only play at humanity, and poorly. Lola, who is in
above-average shape not just for someone of her sex and size and age but
mortals in general, finds herself winded at three flights and noticably
a touch more tired at five. It's not fun. It's also not enough to be
that distracting.
The doors of the stairwell are heavy and loud,
though, and take some careful closing. They come out into a hallway not
far from the elevators. A men's restroom to their right. The glass
doors to an office to their left, with only security lights left on
inside. Still no sign of cameras. On the door, in white:
FENTRESS ARCHITECTS
architecture.
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (6) ( success x 1 )
Lola Hawkes
Lola
was a woman that walked for a solid half of her average day if not
more. She'd go up steep hills, climb over rocks where needed, scale
ledges and trees for vantage points on her patrols. Stairs were
different, though, and not something she was nearly as accustomed to.
She's a harty gal, however, and though her breaths are a bit heavier and
the muscles in her legs burn when it comes down to it the climb didn't
hinder her when she reached the top.
She goes in first, because
that's how Lola does. The door is held open for Milton behind her, and
she carefully closes it so it doesn't make much noise behind them.
The
office is easy to spot, given that the man's name is across the doors
in white. Lola adjusted the strap of her satchel as it lay across her
chest and stood at the Ragabash's shoulder in the hallway for a second
before testing the door.
If it's locked, she'll leave it to Milton to do his stuff.
If not, she goes inside.
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
Milton
would recover rather quickly, but it was apparent that he wasn't
exactly the most excited about Gym back in highschool! He was swift and
nimble, but he couldn't keep that up too terribly long if pressed to do
so.
Seeing no signs of cameras, he peeks a little closer to see if
he spots anything, and provided he sees no other signs of a security
system, he would attempt once more to open the simple lock before
heading into the office just behind Lola.
[One more COntrol Simple Machines to open the lock!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN7 (1, 2, 3, 4, 6) ( fail )
architecture.
[Wits + Primal Urge from both of you]
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
[Wits+PU]
Dice: 4 d10 TN8 (3, 4, 6, 10) ( success x 1 )
Lola Hawkes
[Wits 3 + 0 PU]
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (5, 9, 10) ( success x 2 )
architecture.
[Now Perception + Alertness]
Lola Hawkes
[Perception 3 + Alertness 2]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 4, 6, 6, 8) ( success x 3 )
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
[Per+Alertness!]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 4, 9) ( success x 1 )
architecture.
[Something Else]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 5, 6) ( success x 1 )
architecture.
Lola,
going first, checks the door. Milton is eager to jump in with his gift
again, but it's not necessary. The handle turns in Lola's hand and the
door whispers open, well-maintained and nearly silent.
And that
is when something starts to feel very wrong to both of them. The
sensation is just a crawl up their spines, some primordial hint that the door should be locked.
It's just common sense. It's just the modern world. People don't
leave their offices unlocked when they have tens of thousands of dollars
worth of equipment in there, and that's not even counting the worth of
some of the data in files both physical and digital. You lock the doors
when you leave at night.
Maybe it's an accident. Someone forgot. The cleaning staff made a mistake.
The
office is quiet. The white noise machines in the ceiling that keep
everyone from killing each other over hearing every pop of gum or
conversation on the phone or clack of keys are going softly, softly, a
distant hum in the back of your mind.
architecture.
Lola
hears
breathing.
Lola Hawkes
When
Lola tried the knob on the door there was no resistence. The handle
turned, the latch slipped, and the door slid open quietly. Lola put her
shoulders in the doorway and continued to insist on going first. For
as long as Milton allowed it, Lola would continue to take the lead.
They
both realize, cautiously, as they slip inside of the office, that there
was no good reason for that door to be unlocked. They knew Fentress
himself was out of the country, and it was unlikely that his partner
associates would be in there that late as night as well.
Machinery
hummed quietly. Milton may have taken a breath in to begin talking,
but whatever it was he may have had to say would be silenced when Lola
grabbed onto the back of his upper arm and squeezed-- demanding that his
throught process and words be interrupted silently and that his
attention be refocused her way.
With her other hand she was
reaching into her satchel and pulling out the revolver. Her eyes were
wide, searching, darting here and there around the office. She must
have heard something he didn't. Whatever it was, she didn't say. He
should be able to guess that something was off when she released his arm
to remove the safety on her firearm.
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
He
got the sneaking suspicion someone was here, and if his experience with
action films was any indication of what they could expect, he could
already imagine a massive muscle bound dude, and a smaller quicker
guy... Cause the bad guys always have a small team protecting sensitive
information! Naturally, Lola should be able to handle anything they
might be up against! He's seen her in action... The spray of blood that
covered his face as he tried to sneak up on their target the other day
was still a fond memory in the back of his mind. Sadly, he did not bring
his gun...
He was cautious as they entered the office, eyes
peeled as he searched for what looked to be the office they had come
here to search.
He didn't speak, however, right now was the time
to be quiet, alert, cautious in every step, but that didn't stop him
from making his way inside and beginning to search for the architect's
office!
architecture.
Around the corner, from whence go the cubicles and desks, come soft footsteps.
And
then comes a tall, slender young man with thick hair in a somewhat
feathered haircut that went out in the early 80s, sipping a cup of raspberry jasmine decaf green tea, if you must know, and carrying an open file.
Which
is when he sees Lola, carrying a gun, and Milton, who just doesn't look
like he should be hanging out with someone like Lola. The man gives a
shriek -- a shriek, high and sharp and panicked -- tossing not just the
file but the mug of tea out of his hands. Not at them. Just. Sort of
upward as those hands flail. They stay in the air, to either side of
his head, after tea sloshes everywhere and soaks the carpet and the mug
rolls on the ground and papers go everywhere.
His mouth is open. His eyes are wide. He looks petrified.
"Ah... ah... ah mah gawd," is all he stammers out.
Lola Hawkes
The
breathing sounds that Lola had heard apparently belonged to some young
man that came out from within the depths of the office. He saw
strangers there-- a man and a woman. The man was unfamiliar and felt...
off, somehow. Dangerous, unhinged perhaps. The woman had a god damn
gun.
The man shireked, Lola startled (her shoulders and chest and
back muscles all jumped) and hissed an intake of breath between clenched
teeth. She had initially swung the gun around on the man when he'd
appeared, operating on reflex, but her finger didn't find the trigger to
have the chance to pull. A file and mug fell to the floor, tea
splashed the man's shirt.
Lola glanced to Milton, and she made the
snap decision to virtually snap her teeth at the man that had come up
out of the dark office and gesture to a swiveling office chair nearest
to the stammering (assumably human) man.
"Sit the fuck down." And that's all she tells him. Her head nods in Milton's direction, though. Continue, it says. I'll keep guard.
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
Milton
gives a sigh when he spots the guy. He was neither the giant muscle
bound guardian, nor the smaller quicker one. He was just a guy, who came
in to work on Saturday to take care of a few things, and this makes him
shake his head.
He holds up his toolbox and gives a bright smile.
"Relax man... We're just here to work on the electricity, promise!" It
would have been the cover he attempted to use had they not been caught
with a gun drawn, it seemed such a shame to waste it!
When Lola orders him to sit he nods back and continues on his way. They needed to get the hell in and then the hell out! ASAP!
So
he looks for the office they needed. Files, Blueprints, and of
course... Computers! They needed information, and who better than a
Glasswalker to get it?
architecture.
"Ah mah
gawwwwd," the man just repeats in a strained sob, tears springing to his
unblinking eyes. His mouth looks toothless, almost, the way he keeps
his lips down over them. Like that kid on Glee, actually. At least he isn't pissing himself, but he doesn't look far from it.
Lola
isn't telling him to do so, but he's already moving down on his knees
-- there are not any chairs immediately close to him to Sit The Fuck
Down on -- with his hands behind his head. Like he's preparing to be
executed.
Milton lies, poorly, yet delightedly, traipsing around
the office. There are desks and cubes, and then there are offices
within the office, closed doors with names on them. Principals, one
that just says Accounting, and so forth. Those doors are locked, and
yet there are files and workstations everywhere to peruse. It really
depends on what they're looking for, and how they want to go about it.
And
what they're going to do about the man in the pale green shirt who is
kneeling in front of Lola with his hands behind his head, his eyes wide
and bulging with panic, his underarms sweat-soaked, taking sucking
little breaths.
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
He's looking
for Fentress' personal office. If there was any information they needed
it was going to be in there. So that is what he went searching for! The
other workstations would, more or less, be left alone. He was trying to
be as quick and clean as possible.
As soon as he came upon the
office he would attempt, once more, to channel his gifts to open the
lock. Unfortunately, this entire thing was far more complicated now, but
he had an idea. They would just have to make it look like an attempted
robbery... After they got what they needed!
Lola Hawkes
Lola
doesn't urge Milton to hurry up. Rather, she ensures that the office
door closes quietly behind them after checking the hallway one more time
for good measure. Then, when this is done, she enters a little further
into the office.
The safety wasn't returned to 'on', but she
wasn't aiming the revolver at the man who had sunk slowly to his knees
and cried quietly to himself, expecting to be killed. These two were
robbing the joint, after all, right? If that were the case, Lola wasn't
worried about her witness going anywhere. It seemed he'd gone ahead
and paralyzed himself with his own fear. With weapon lowered, but still
held properly in her hand, Lola strolled around the office front
slowly, checking behind and under desks without bending at the knee or
hip-- only leaning to the side or turning her head in order to view
corners.
"Easy," she tells the human(?) man after listening to him
breath like a doormouse for a dozen seconds. "We won't touch a hair on
you so long as you keep quiet and still. Stop acting like I'm gonna
shoot you for doing what you're told."
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
[Here's another Control Simple machines roll... For if he finds the office he wants!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN7 (1, 2, 2, 2, 7) ( success x 1 )
architecture.
"Ah
mah gawd," is all he repeats, still in that strained, slightly high
voice. Like a broken record. Sort of tremulous and uncanny, while Lola
steps further into the office and Milton goes peering at doors.
The
man gives a great shudder when Milton goes inspecting interior office
doors, all but shrieking, with a note of warning -- to them: "Ah mah
gawwwd!"
He convulses forward, with a squeak that tries to be another ah mah gawd! as
his
scalp slips forward. Not his wig, because it really becomes obvious
that it's a horrible wig and maybe he has that disorder where you don't
grow hair or maybe he's a cancer patient who knows but his wig
slips forward as well. But only because it is attached to his scalp,
which is scrubbing forward off his head, wrinkling his brow. And not in
a frown.
He convulses again, eyelids drooping over his eyes.
Which never blink.
Milton,
several feet away, is trying a locked door. He even manages to get it
open. As behind him, the tea-drinker lunges at Lola.
architecture.
[INITS]
Lola Hawkes
[Init Die + 3 Dexterity + 3 Wits]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (3) ( fail )
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
[Damn it! +6]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (3) ( fail )
architecture.
[+7]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (2) ( fail )
architecture.
[...]
architecture.
[EVERYONE RE-ROLL THIS IS BULLSHIT.]
architecture.
[+7]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (2) ( fail )
Lola Hawkes
[Reroll!]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (5) ( fail )
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
[+6]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (5) ( fail )
architecture.
[Evens - Lola
Odds - Milton]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (6) ( success x 1 )
architecture.
[Init Order:
Milton and Lola act at the same time. For ease of rolling and my sanity, Milton will 'go first'.
Milton / Lola
Paul
Declare in reverse!]
architecture.
The
man's skin is coming off. Pulled apart at some seam behind his skull,
falling off of his face. It is sticky, where skin meets... whatever his
true flesh is. Lola can see glimpses of it, the color difficult to
discern but the gleam of it looking almost chitinous. Or scaled. Or
some mingling of both; it is not familiar.
Like his teeth are not familiar. That many teeth in that sized mouth. Rows of them like a shark's, serrated and endless. Does it even have a tongue? Or just teeth, going on and on, lining its mouth, descending into its throat so that it can continue to chew as it digests?
It goes for her thigh. It will be content with her leg.
[1a. Dodge!1b. Bite (called shot)1c. Bite]
Lola Hawkes
[1a. Headshot [WP Spent]
1b. Shoot Again]
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
[Oh
the man is a monster! That changes things! -1 Rage to go to... Hmm...
Crinos is too big, Hispo should fit between the hall like area between
offices and cubicles! So -1 Rage for Hispo!
1a Gonna run up and
bite him from whatever angle Milton is coming at him from! I assume that
is behind, but I am actually not sure! ]
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
[Dex+Brawl+Hispo = 7 Dice, -1 diff for bite!]
Dice: 7 d10 TN5 (1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 10) ( success x 4 )
architecture.
[DODGE -3]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (4, 5, 9, 10) ( success x 2 )
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
[Dmg: Str+3+2+1=8!]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 3, 9, 10, 10, 10) ( success x 4 )
architecture.
[Soak + armor]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 10) ( success x 1 )
Lola Hawkes
[Headshot: Dex 3 + Firearms 3, -2 split, +2 diff for called shot]
Dice: 4 d10 TN8 (1, 3, 6, 7) ( success x 1 ) [WP]
Lola Hawkes
[Damage: Base 6]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 4, 8, 8, 9) ( success x 3 )
architecture.
[Soak + armor]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (3, 3, 4, 5, 8, 9) ( success x 2 )
Lola Hawkes
[General Shot: Dex 3 + Firearms 3, -3 split]
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (1, 5, 10) ( success x 1 )
Lola Hawkes
[Damage: Base 6]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 5, 5, 5, 9) ( success x 1 )
architecture.
[soak + armor]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 5, 7, 8, 8, 8) ( success x 4 )
architecture.
[1b. -4 / +2 diff]
Dice: 5 d10 TN7 (2, 5, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )
architecture.
[dmg! +2 for successfully digging into that sweet sweet artery] [L]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 3, 6, 6, 9, 10) ( success x 4 )
Lola Hawkes
[Soak!]
Dice: 4 d10 TN8 (5, 6, 7, 7) ( fail )
Lola Hawkes
[Leftover Headshot Damage: Aftershock!]
Dice: 2 d10 TN6 (1, 3) ( fail )
architecture.
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (9) ( success x 1 )
architecture.
[1c. Switching targets to the big bitey hispo.
-5 // +1 diff]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (4, 5, 6, 9) ( success x 2 )
architecture.
[Damage] [L]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 4, 8, 10) ( success x 2 )
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
[Soak!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 5, 6, 10) ( success x 2 )
architecture.
Skin
comes off, hangs off at the chin. The thing -- it is a thing, it is
not a 'he' it is not a named creature, it is nothing familiar anymore --
lunges for Lola from its kneeling place on the tea-stained carpet even
as Milton is whirling around and Lola's firearm is coming up.
Everything
happens at once: the shot of grey fur across the room suddenly, the
repeat of a bullet leaving the chamber and opening a ragged line across
the being's scalp. It hisses, or shrieks -- it is a sound that claws at
the ears and makes the mind shudder. Milton tears off part of its left
forearm, and they both see that its blood is black.
Even Spirals bleed red. Even fomori, usually. Their blood does not have the consistency of oil, either.
Still
it goes for Lola, singleminded and lustful, and sinks its teeth deep
into her inner thigh. Instantly, there is a vast rush of pressured
blood spraying not just the monster but Milton's face and fur, the
carpet, the side of a cubicle. She feels it instantly: the departure of
blood, the chaos in her body. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Adrenaline is
already coursing through her; endorphins follow to try and cope with the
pain of her thigh being torn ragged, but it's not enough.
Exact
calculations are impossible at this moment, and depend on many factors.
But she will be unconscious in less than a minute.
She will bleed out in less than five.
Her heartbeat tells her in time, even as it is sending more and more blood rapidly out of that wound: direct pressure direct pressure direct pressure don't die don't die don't die.
As
for Milton, he is unscathed. Except for this: that blood smells pure.
It smells like mystery and antiquity. It smells like the caern and it
smells like the sun just as much as it smells like strange herbs and
frightening dreams. He can be in an action movie any day. He can blow
things up and calculate problems and he can enjoy every moment of it.
But right now, some instinct tells him that he's about to watch a kin of
Uktena bleed to death.
Or die faster than that, if that creature gets at her again.
architecture.
[+2 rage to Milton.
As stated: Lola is on a clock. She can use Int/Med to buy herself some more time but cannot split her dice pools right now.]
architecture.
[Re-rolling inits!]
architecture.
[+7]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (2) ( fail )
Lola Hawkes
The
third time the man uttered the same strained words gained Lola's
attention. She looked over in time to see him fall forward-- but then
it was just his skin doing so. The flesh suit of what was probably a
man who worked here once sluffed off to reveal something armored,
scaley? Maybe? There were many teeth, and they were coming at her
through the aisle of desks.
Lola and Milton were on the same
wavelength. As she raised her gun and lined a shot up just above the
mouth of this horrendous thing, Milton burst out from the hallway that
he had been in-- no longer a skinny white boy but now a shetland
pony-sized wolf.
There are simultaneous snaps of jaws and blasts
from a gun, but the thing was not slowed and sank its teeth into the
Kinswoman's flesh anyways.
Immediately she sways, stumbles
backward and nearly falls over as the world swam and her brain struggled
to recognize the pain that should be coming. An elbow hooked the top
of a desk so she didn't hit the ground too harshly, and then she sat
down quickly.
Face ashen, hands shaky, she worked to whip off her
belt and wrap it around her thigh to slow the flow of blood, a pulsing
flow that would be too much for her hands alone to keep down.
[Init +6]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (8) ( success x 1 )
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
[+6]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (6) ( success x 1 )
architecture.
[Init Order:
Lola (14)
Milton (12)
Paul (9)
Declare in reverse!]
architecture.
[1a. Called shot bite to throat on Milton.
1b. Regular bite.]
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
[1a. Bite guy!
1b. Bite guy again!
1r To Bite Again!]
Lola Hawkes
[Tourniquet: Intelligence 3 + Medicine 2, spending WP]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 5, 5, 7, 9) ( success x 3 ) [WP]
architecture.
[Lola is fine for this round and the next so long as she maintains direct pressure.]
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
[Bite #1]
Dice: 5 d10 TN5 (3, 3, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
{2+3+2+2=9 Dmg]
Dice: 9 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 4, 9, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 6 )
architecture.
[Soak + Armor]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 6, 6, 8, 10) ( success x 4 )
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
[4 Dice+1 WP!]
Dice: 4 d10 TN5 (2, 7, 9, 10) ( success x 4 ) [WP]
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
[10 dice this time for Damage!]
Dice: 10 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 6 )
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
[Rerolling DMG at 9!]
Dice: 9 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 10) ( success x 3 )
architecture.
[Soak + Armor]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 2, 3, 6, 10) ( success x 2 )
architecture.
[1a. -2 // +2 diff]
Dice: 7 d10 TN7 (2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8) ( success x 1 )
architecture.
[dmg // +2 for successful called shot] [L]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (3, 3, 5, 5, 6, 7) ( success x 2 )
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
[Soak!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 4, 4, 7, 10) ( success x 2 )
architecture.
[1b. -3]
Dice: 6 d10 TN5 (2, 3, 5, 8, 9, 9) ( success x 4 )
architecture.
[dmg] [L]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 4, 5, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 3 )
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
[Soak!]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 5, 8, 10) ( success x 2 )
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
[Now a bite at full Dice Pools! Asshole!]
Dice: 7 d10 TN5 (1, 4, 4, 5, 6, 9, 10) ( success x 4 )
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
[Now I roll 10!]
Dice: 10 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 8) ( success x 5 )
architecture.
[Soak + Armor]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 2, 5, 5, 9) ( success x 1 )
architecture.
The
moon outside is large and bright and beautiful. It comes through
filtered clouds that turn the sky around it a hazy silver surrounded by
deep, deep blue. In the city there is the ever present glow of manmade
lights. Even in Forgotten Questions, the sky is not awash with stars
the way it used to be, many years before Lola was born.
In this
windowless interior in this squat office building, they cannot see the
moon or the veil of clouds but the can feel its weight. Milton can feel
it, even when his own moon is facing away from the earth, the dark side
watching the endless universe instead of the world, learning its
secrets only to forget them, to keep them secret. Lola can feel it in
every nauseating heartbeat.
The gun goes somewhere that hardly
matters right now because what matters right now is keeping herself
alive and conscious. There's not much brainpower for anything but
survival right now. If she were a garou -- cruel joke, Gaia -- she
could maybe focus on other things, trusting her body to repair itself.
That is not the case with this injury. She will not shrug this off and
keep fighting. If she does, she knows with iron certainty that she will
die, and it will feel very cold.
She is already growing cold.
Her toes, first. Her fingers struggle to do what she tells them as she
buys herself a few more seconds, another minute or so. Ha ha ha; last
of the Hawkes. Dying with the smell of tea in her nostrils and no
feeling in her feet. In the city. Against something that might not
even be of the Wyrm.
Ha ha ha.
Gaia. You're so funny. Stop it. You're killing me.
--
Milton
has no thoughts for survival or for saving anyone. Just rage. Just
rage flooding his limbs and tearing open his jaws so terribly, terribly
wide. He has bitten off an arm, see, packless and moonlight-less and
only good for detonations and math as he is, he can still fight. He is
still a garou. He is still a monster in the end, isn't he?
We plan so many things. We think we know who we are.
And all the while, Luna smiles
and turns the other way.
--
It
gnashes those rows upon rows of teeth at Milton, and wounds but does
not injure, certainly not the way it hurt Lola, certainly not the way
that could really put down a garou. It shrieks as it bites, as loud as
the gunshots Lola loosed. It bleeds from the head
and from its stumped arm
and then from its shoulder
and then
and then
and then
its
head goes rolling across the room, bouncing across the carpet like a
deflating balloon without enough energy to lift skyward again. It hits
the door of an office and bleeds that oilslick blood out, slower than
Lola's bleeding, because Lola's bleeding wounds are still connected to
her heart.
The white noise generators undercut the sound of her
breathing, and his own. There is black mingling with the red throughout
his fur.
Six minutes, give or take, before the cops arrive. He
did the math, see? He saw the people walking north on Broadway before
they came in. Someone will have heard the revolver. Someone will be
coming, and now there are no guardians to call.
architecture.
[1. Six minutes til cops arrive.
2.
Probably five minutes or less til Lola is well and truly fucked: either
losing a leg or dying or both unless she receives healing or serious
medical attention.
3. The files Paul was carrying are pretty bloodsplattered but still scattered all around them.]
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
Milton
sighs to himself. They've got fomori working for them... That tells him
one of the details the Garou didn't actually know, and this it was the
reason they were keeping all this quiet to begin with. The Architect
was, indeed, in league with the wyrm or at least this firm now had
suspiciously close ties with the Wyrm.
The problem, however, is
that while Milton's wounds actually recover rather quickly while he is
in his hispo form, and once he is out of combat it simply does so on
it's own, the one he came here with is not going to heal as readily.
He
eyes the wound, and begins shifting through the forms on his way to a
more human shape, but he stops in his glabro form. The larger form will
give him the strength to accomplish what he wants to, quickly, and carry
the kin out of here with relative ease.
"Damn, that looks like it
stings!" He says as a little laugh passes his lips, they say humor is
the best medicine right? "Do you need a doctor immediately or can you
hold off another few minutes? We can't hide the fact we were here... But
if you can hold off I can grab a couple things from his office. Call
someone... We can have them meet up with you somewhere. We've gotta do
this quick, though... Timeline... Can you give me two minutes" He asks,
waiting only for a nod or a shake of her head. Something that shows him
she can wait or something that says she needs to leave immediately! He
had no clue the amount of damage she had suffered, but he also knew that
they weren't going to get a second chance to sneak into this place. Not
if their enemies knew they were looking through their information.
Lola Hawkes
Lola
can't feel her fingertips, so it makes gripping and pulling the belt
difficult. If she could lean down far enough to get her teeth involved
in the pulling she would, trust that. Instead, though, she settles for
hands that she wills to stay strong, forces to keep gripping the belt,
to resituate when that grip slips.
Lola doesn't see Milton tear
the thing apart. She does hear it scream, though, and catches the head
rolling by past her feet, glimpsing it as it goes.
"Jesus Christ,
Milton," she grinds out when he starts talking to her, blood and oil
still slick on his skin, asking how long she can wait, if she can hold
off at all. "Grab the fucking files.
"Hurry." She hesitates, wavers, pulls the belt tighter. "I'm bleeding out."
architecture.
[Milton: Roll base Int. or Perception, whichever is higher.]
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
[Base Int+Nothing!]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 6, 7) ( success x 2 )
Pokes-the-Mind's-Eye
He
had been hoping to get to the computer in the office but seeing her
state he decides that can be messed with later, tonight if he had to!
Right now he needed to get her out of there, so he immediately gathered
up the files, placed them in her lap. "Hold these!" He says before
gathering her up and heading for the exit!
"If you know where the
closest hospital is please tell me cause I don't know this town yet!" He
says as they race for the stairs.
Lola Hawkes
Lola's
fading, and quickly. By the time Milton is tossing files into her lap
her eyes are glazed, unfocused, and her grip is beginning to slip on the
belt. A puddle of blood was forming on the ground from where her jeans
were ripped up by teeth. The flow was picking up pace, the tourniquet
wasn't doing the same job now as it was before, when her strength
remained (to an extent).
When his arms go under her legs and back
she's jarred back to alertness, though. She pulls the belt tight and
clamps an arm around Milton's shoulders, behind his neck. Her body
clenches as pain spasms through it, rolling her eyes under squeezed shut
lids, and she makes an awful, wrenching yelling noise. But the files
stay on her stomach, wedged back between it and Milton's narrow chest.
He's
calling for her to tell him where a hospital is. She wants to headbutt
him in outrage-- he's the fucking Glass Walker! She lives out in the
sticks! But, because she's patroled the streets of this city among
Garou frequently enough when Cold Crescent was suffering so, she
remembered one. It wasn't far away, they drove past it when she found a
place to park.
"Drive to sixth. Back the way we came... Keys're in my pocket."
She's slipping, slipping, slipping.
architecture.
Slipping.
That's
what it feels like. Slipping down a slide, on a sled or on water,
right into darkness. It's so easy, and it's such a relief from hurting
like that. She's not aware of Milton carrying her out, or finding her
car, or putting her in it. She's barely aware of lights and noise and
someone trying to get her to respond at the ED. And soon after that,
she's not aware of anything. Just dreams.
Chaos all around her, of course. Voices shouting, attention given, while Milton
has
the files. Has the job of coming up with a story, maybe a dog bite,
something to cover for it. But whether he waits for her in the lobby or
leaves her there alone, he has the files that that... thing was carrying. Files now splattered here and there with Lola's blood.
They're plans for 1999 Broadway. Plans for renovations. All stamped and signed by
Paul E. Derakis
Assistant Planner
Fentress Architects
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