<banana>
<banana> The others will be by to pick up Cleaner soon. Dory Funk Jr. defending his title against the Incredible Khan, and a few other stringers nobody's heard of..
<banana> Perhaps more importantly: it's a chance to visit Orlando with the protection of a Master and nobody knowing a thing is wrong.
<banana> Perhaps even more importantly, and first: There's a reason the Moros was given right of first refusal for this particular suburban property.
<Crion> Cleaner comes home, gets undressed, gets completely naked -- throws on his shoulder holster, puts his .45 in it, then puts on his bathrobe and after a stop in the kitchen heads to the backyard.
<Crion> A time to love, a time to hate; a time for war, a time for peace. He heard that shit on the radio.
<banana> Orient doesn't have his own car as a fallback (is he interested in getting an American car? could be here a while..) so he's leaving a little earlier, cramming into a new Camaro with three wizards who've chivvied him into visiting the wrestling after all.
<Crion> He walks out around the sunken stonehenge pit in the backyard and sinks five tent spikes into the ground in what looser lips might term halfway to a pentagram.
<Crion> He's looking for water.
<Crion> He's looking for the real stuff of the world.
<Crion> This was a well once, but only a dumbass digs a well in Florida.
<Crion> It comes to you.
<Crion> That's the principle Cleaner has to live by, now.
<banana> The sun is setting over the horizon, Atlantic Ocean dark behind you, in a parking lot in the great complex of meta-parking lots that is Kennedy AFB. Kyle, Ambrose and Amanda - Dirt Cool, Fieldmouse and Trajan - are laughing as they talk about something incomprehensible, a 'work' and a 'sell' the wrestler is famous for? They'll be attending a 'slam', from which Orient can pick up that English turns every verb into a noun eventually.
<Quaker> He knows what they mean. He’s seen Fieldmouse’s head.
<Crion> Cleaner walks counter-clockwise, and taps them each with the barrel of his gun.
<Quaker> He’s not really paying attention. His attention is as distant as it would be if he was alone in the hotel room. He thinks about the eleven stars in the sky.
<banana> Lewis - Lewis - is leaning on the car, finishing a cigarette. He says: "It'll be a nice ride, anyway. Who wants to bet the undead miss us this time?"
<Crion> Then he kneels before the break-rock mash, and prays to the groundwater crash.
<Crion> He can feel all the water, all the way out to sea.
<banana> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l2PoSljk8cE
<Quaker> Claudio thinks about the other mages in the car. A wrestling show. How can they bear to be away from their work? The answer to this feels like it’s gained an uncomfortable weight in his mind since the last time he thought about it. Of course, then it was a joke. Now, it’s the truth. How could he have been so blindly faithful? To what?
<Quaker> To these people?
<Crion> Wolfman. Dracula, and his son.
<Crion> ...He probably won't ever have one of those.
<Crion> Cleaner blinks twice, feels a heavy electricity behind his eyes, and goes back inside to get dressed.
<Crion> He knows where all the water is in this state. It's always too close.
<Crion> Then he's driving down to orlando in a white suit, white sports coat, and charcoal shirt underneath.
<Crion> *O
<banana> Orient ends up in the back beside Trajan, who's wearing a full-face motorcycle helmet. She's a bit muffled, but it's better than the alternative. "You got wrestling in Europe? Boxing?"
<Quaker> Orient: “Not this kind of wrestling. Less theatrical. But boxing, yes. I’ve never been to a match, though.”
<Crion> 14He makes a phone call before he drives down, to a familiar number. Does it end the way he wants it to?
<Crion> He makes a phone call before he drives down, to a familiar number. Does it end the way he wants it to?
<Quaker> Orient: “I like racing the most.”
<banana> The Camaro's engine is somewhere between a growl and a purr as it eats up the access roads out to the high way. Trajan: "Dude, we have got to visit Daytona Beach some time soon. When the mission's over and the season's on."
<banana> Cleaner's call was welcome, and he will be. But: is he going to wait for the others to catch up and head out together? In theory, visiting Orlando without the protection of a group is a bad idea.
<Quaker> Orient: “Don’t they drive in a circle?”
<Crion> He'll wait to travel in a convoy. But he'll still be driving.
<Crion> And if the call hadn't gone through, he'd be running it alone.
<Crion> They should meet up at the rest stop.
<banana> Dirt Cool is on the other side of Orient - he's too tall for a window seat, apparently, in this muscular car. "Very fast, yes."
<Crion> The one on the right side of the bridge.
<Quaker> Orient: “It sounds like a unique challenge. Sometimes it does get boring, waiting for the cars to come around the bend on a normal track.”
<banana> Kyle: "NASCAR is all-action all the time, every Sunday. So the TV says; I've never been."
<Crion> Cleaner will probably get there first.
<banana> Amanda: "Dude. Okay, that's someone else who needs in."
<Quaker> Orient: “Where do they have the monster trucks?”
<Crion> He'll smoke while he waits. These things aren't good for him; they just reduce his contract.
<Crion> He might take some pictures, too. What time of day is it.
<banana> It's not long before the two Seer cars - not that this is official business exactly - meet up at a small roadside lot just east of St. John's River. Amanda is explaining in enthusiastic detail that the monster trucks are right here in the state of Florida and will be readily available - but she breaks off when Lewis pulls up to holler "Hey, you know the rest of the way?"
<banana> Amanda: "Actually, I'll hop in the deputy's car. It's getting a little busy in here."
<Crion> Cleaner straightens up.
<Crion> He's basically got the shot.
<banana> Ambrose, in the front seat: "I see no problem."
<Crion> And he's got the equipment in the trunk.
<Crion> Why not.
<banana> The car coming down the highway is sunlit in Cleaner's shot against a silhouetted background of swamps.
<banana> Its shadow stretches far, far down the road - sun's almost exactly at your back.
<Crion> He's got 15 shots.
<Crion> He'll take them.
<banana> With Trajan getting out the other three men left in Lewis's car don't know much about racing, but they're happy to learn if Orient wants to talk. His mind drifts, still, to the afternoon's readings.
<Crion> Hhhhh.
<Quaker> He doesn’t really want to talk about racing.
<Crion> It didn't look bad.
<Crion> It might've even looked good.
<banana> Isaias wasn't happy with the topic, but he knew better than to object. Catalogues of rare books, rumours of hidden texts:"There is a wealth of information, all of it dubious."
<banana> "I can.. look into it. There's only one thing I know for certain about the entity you're referring to."
<Crion> ...
<Quaker> He knew immediately that Isaias had not read with his usual thoroughness. It’s not as if he could blame him for it. “Yes?”
<Crion> They're not the worst people in the world.
<Crion> While fiddling with the tripod: "Trajan."
<banana> Isaias: "The Gate - use that name once a day at most. He created the Abyss and was bound or trapped within it. This is not denied, but it is kept obscure."
<Quaker> Claudio: “What happens if I say that name more than once a day?”
<Crion> He can see Orient in the car, right?
<banana> At the roadside pitstop, Trajan has indeed got out to join Cleaner, unless he objects. "Hey. Give me a ride to the ring? It'll spare everyone leg cramp."
<Crion> To Trajan: "Can I put you in the trunk?"
<Crion> It's hard to tell if that's a joke.
<Crion> Cleaner: "That's a joke."
<Crion> "Let me talk to the Italian and we'll see where we are."
<Crion> He pauses. Then, to Trajan: "Have you ever had to fuck up a vampire?"
<Crion> Cleaner's already broken down the tripod, and pocketed the camera's film.
<banana> Isaias Kiflay: "She's not listening, as far as I know, but it's an unofficial rule. We talked last year about Scelestoi - an obsession with the Seal of the Abyss is reckoned to be one of their recruiting tools."
<Quaker> Claudio: “The Scelestoi.”
<Quaker> “Those are the dangerously reckless ones, right?”
<Crion> The trunk is wide open, and if anyone cares to see, there's a soft canvas bag containing a battle rifle in there.
<Quaker> He lets the joke sit between them. “Okay. We’ll look into it again soon.”
<Crion> Cleaner stows the Nikon.
<banana> Isaias: "More often and less correctly called scelesti. Worshippers of the veil between worlds, not because of the laws it enforces but for the sake of the infinite chaos itself."
<banana> Infinite chaos could be called reckless. It's a point of view thing.
<Crion> Yeah, yeah.
<Crion> God laughs, man cries.
<Crion> Long verse; short refrain.
<Quaker> Oh well. He’ll bring himself back into the present moment. He makes up his mind to enjoy tonight. Though his lack of emoting often means everyone assumes he’s not enjoying himelf.
<Crion> Not Cleaner.
<Crion> Italians are always enjoying themselves.
<banana> Trajan: "Oh yeah. Not since joining Powder, but I'm looking forward to the next chance. Did you know they have like three levels of actual-death?" Looks like nobody's told her what Deputy Barret was doing on his last assignment.
<banana> Lewis: "OK, let's head out in time to grab beer before it starts - see you at the hall."
<Crion> He just stares at Trajan with unfortunate brows, but only for a moment.
<Crion> Cleaner: "Get in or get out."
<banana> She's in, bopping her enormous motorbike helmet on the door arch for a second before recovering.
<Crion> To Lewis, shouting: "You know about the complications?"
<Quaker> “Is this what you do for fun around here? These wrestling shows?”
<Crion> Cleaner, desiring clarification: "Do you specifically know about Orlando?"
<banana> Is that to 'Amanda Rae' in Cleaner's car? Lewis didn't bother to answer if it was him, just drove off.
<Crion> Dumbass.
<Crion> It's not.
<banana> Back on the road, Ambrose leans around from the front seat: "Americans, man. I've gone native happily... as well as each other they wrestle gators and ride quadbikes which sink half the time.. there's more outside in this state than most nations.
<banana> "
<Crion> To 'Amanda Rae,' as he slides in: "Do you need a gun, kid?"
<banana> Kyle: "You love us. Some of us."
<Quaker> “‘Gone Native’? Where are you from, anyway?”
<banana> Trajan tells Cleaner, "I could shoot. No real need, but I'll take it if you're offering."
<Crion> He peels out. He's going to keep close to Lewis's bumper. Asshole. He should have gone first.
<banana> Ambrose: "Long story." Then again, they've got all night.. "Ask me when I've had something to drink."
<Quaker> “Are the drinks here cheap?”
<Crion> To Trajan, with no wind, judgment or drag: "Back panel, middle seat behind you. Brown canvas bag, battle rifle. Glovebox in front of you, revolver and quickloader. Commit it to memory. We're in badlands now."
<banana> Kyle: "Speaking of which, it's my round after last time." To Claudio, he explains: "When we were out here recently, I got suckered into a wager. They're cheap if you don't mind shitty light beer, but I prefer a real IPA."
<banana> Lewis: "Well you know, fruits of the fallen world are ours to enjoy and all that."
<banana> Kyle: "Says the one who's not on salary."
<Crion> He doesn't tailgate Lewis, but he keeps an eye out.
<banana> Trajan: "Thanks. Should be useful if they attack with witnesses around, which I've heard these guys like to do!"
<banana> "Actually, ask you something else?"
<Crion> Cleaner: "Yeah."
<banana> Trajan: "I need a bit of help with Mind and Death. Kapic probably told you there was an accident.." She taps on the helmet.
<banana> "Not his fault, we were under attack, but I've still got to do something about my face, here."
<Crion> Cleaner: "You understand what you're asking."
<Crion> "You're asking for a favor."
<banana> Trajan: "And I would hell of owe you one."
<Crion> His eyes are still scanning the sides of the road ahead.
<Crion> Cleaner: "You would."
<Crion> "That should scare you."
<banana> The cars are in Orlando proper now, turning away from downtown to head toward Gillie Hall, a second-tier venue more than big enough for the local Championship Wrestling.
<Crion> Any bullshit yet?
<Crion> Any bikers?
<banana> Trajan: "Probably worth overcoming that fear, since I can't manipulate this paradox on my own!"
<Crion> Cleaner: "Fair enough."
<banana> "Mind magic, dude.. it's never made sense to me. I'd happily practice it if only to stop people fucking with my head, but there's some piece of context I haven't got."
<banana> Not a sign of the Sabbat on the streets. Maybe their magic bullshit knowing-where-you-are powers have failed them for once?
<Quaker> Orient waits for them to arrive.
<banana> Trajan, muffled, sincere: "What I need, please, is for you to disentangle the mirror thing from the aurora which was already on my forehead. Italian guy's magic has mixed in with what was already there, created this forgetting effect - I need to get them apart so that can fade naturally. Should be less than a day once it's separated."
<banana> The Camaro reaches the turnoff from Colonial Drive - nearly all the street parking is taken, but Kyle mutters something and other cars start moving smoothly away from your own. Lewis pulls into the vacated space, indicates Gillie Hall and a bar beside it. "Rosie O'Grady's." Ambrose grimaces.
<banana> There's a small crowd gathered outside, beginning to check tickets. Inside, someone is playing a samba. The night air is pretty clean for a small city.
<Crion> To Trajan: "You think I can help you with that?"
<banana> Trajan: "I'll teach you a technique for making thaumic contact with the paradox itself; that's something I've refined already. But I need an Apprentice of Mind and Death."
<Crion> Cleaner: "Then I'm your huckleberry."
<Quaker> Orient will slip out of the car and go looking for someone hawking tickets.
<banana> The others are heading into the bar, looking at him quizzically, but don't object if he wants to actually pay for entrance.
<banana> Someone's got to. Just it's usually someone else.
<Crion> Once Cleaner's made sure that Orient's good with it -- however he prefers to be -- he'll flash his badge to get in.
<banana> Trajan: "Great." She sounds on edge, atypically serious. "This time tomorrow would be too late.. we could do a ritual after the show, or early morning?"
<Crion> To Trajan: "That depends on how desperate you are."
<Quaker> How much are they charging?
<banana> Now that Cleaner's pulled up too, he sees the same scene as the others with a slightly different cast - one of the ticket takers, a big guy with brass chains over his vest, has a bit of the vampire stink on him. To the eyes of Death, he's not undead himself but has a bit of them in his veins.
<Crion> He looks at her for the first time. "My advice is don't ever, ever put yourself in a position to ask me for favors again. You want to live, and favors?"
<Crion> "Favors will kill you."
<Crion> Then he puts on his aviators.
<Crion> And steps out of the car.
<Crion> Ghoul ass piece of shit.
<banana> This is actually the same guy who's offering to scalp Orient right now - five dollars! "Woulda been less if you'd taken the advance booking like it said on the poster."
<Crion> Cleaner will walk up. "Hey, bitch."
<banana> Trajan: "Hey. Hey!" She scrambles to follow.
<Quaker> Orient: “That’s alright. Have you got six?”
<Crion> To Orient: "Shut the fuck up."
<Crion> Cleaner: "This man has something he wants to say."
<banana> Cleaner's only jumping a line of like six people here, but they're still kind of mad about it. What's the big idea?
<banana> Ghoul: "What I got to say is that six tickets is thirty bucks. You get back to the end of the queue."
<Quaker> Orient doesn’t react to the insult.
<Crion> He pulls out a badge issued by the Dade County Department of Public Safety for Sheriff's Deputy Wayne Barrett, and waves it behind him.
<Crion> To the ghoul: "How's Flint, dead man?"
<banana> Trajan: "Tonight, then, if you want desperate. Help me out and I'll help you when you need it - don't try to make it a weakness."
<Crion> He's still smiling.
<banana> The crowd's confused by these new arrivals each saying random-ass things, but the ticket taker reacts as predicted. "Who's- who's that? I've never been to Detroit."
<Crion> To the ghoul: "Man's going in, so is she, so is he, and so am I, and when you make the phone call, tell the Bishop I'm still giving him the middle finger."
<Crion> Cleaner grins. "Or I could just walk back to my patrol car and shut this whole thing down."
<banana> The other Seers are all inside Rosie O'Grady's at this point, so only Orient and Trajan get to see Cleaner's stand on principle against paying scalpers' prices to vampires' slaves. Apart from a few sleepers, who are pissed but know better than to argue with a cop this early in the night.
<banana> FCW Ticket Taker: "Seems you're going in. Good luck getting out."
<banana> He stands aside, menacingly.
<banana> Trajan: "We have a deal?"
<Crion> Cleaner steps towards him as he steps aside. "Everything goes both ways."
<Crion> Then he backs off and waves to the line, ushering Orient and the others in.
<Crion> To Trajan: "We have the framework of a deal."
<banana> "Cool."
<Quaker> Orient, to the ticket taker: “One, then, please.”
<Crion> Once inside, there's only one person Cleaner is looking for.
<banana> Ghoul: "..five bucks. They don't give me these things for much less."
<banana> "Thanks."
<Crion> Orient should tip the ghoul.
<Crion> That's just how America works.
<Quaker> He hands over seven. “Thank you. Just flash the ticket for re-entry?”
<banana> Ghoul, you assume, from how Cleaner acted: "Right, or to go between bar and ring. Enjoy the fight."
<banana> To the line: "Next chumps up?"
<Quaker> To Cleaner: “I’m going to grab a drink from the bar. See you inside.”
<Quaker> How does the crowd feel, incidentally? Is it a relaxed environment?”
<Crion> Cleaner: "Keep your eyes open, and have fun."
<banana> Lewis, Ambrose and Kyle are in the bar already, calling more beers over when they see Orient walk in. The place is packed with mostly men of all ages, including a group of straight up elderly guys cackling about the upcoming battle and how it compares to Their Day. It doesn't smell too much yet, but there are hours to build it up.
<Crion> Cleaner slaps Orient on the back to send him over to the bar. He's looking for someone specifically, and something in general.
<banana> Cleaner - Amanda still following him with uncharacteristic patience - spots Caveat a little further inside, by a table where the announcers are setting up. She's shorter than most of the crowd, but the magic which rings her stands out through their weak mortal auras, and- maybe he'd know anyway.
<Crion> How's Amanda Rae composed?
<banana> Lewis: "..which means squat in the face of a guilty plea. If it was the other way around they'd lynch him."
<banana> Kyle: "That's why he pled - Tennessee law doesn't allow execution without a jury decision."
<banana> It's a bit hard to tell how Trajan is looking, since she still has the paradox-concealing helmet. At least she's pulling it off pretty well, with a padded leather jacket that skates the line of dangerous and ridiculous on her skinny form.
<Quaker> The Deputy must be harboring some extraordinary insecurities to feel the need to dominate his space like that. Orient orders a rum & coke and sits down. “This doesn’t sound like a relaxing subject.”
<Crion> Cleaner walks up behind Caveat and leans down into her right ear, a sufficient distance away. "Hey."
<banana> Caveat smiles on the edge of her mouth. "Hey, you. It's a great feeding ground, isn't it?"
<banana> Looking up: "Who's your cohort?"
<Quaker> Orient: “Does anyone here sell marijuana cigarettes?”
<Crion> Cleaner: "Her name is Trajan, and, paradoxically, she's got some issues. Turn towards me and hug me."
<banana> Lewis: "Not very relaxing, no. Talking about the guy who shot MLK."
<banana> Ambrose: "You walk in with a cop and ask that? Lemme take a look around, though." He scans the bar crowd.
<Quaker> Orient: “In my experience, the cops make good customers.”
<banana> "There's a guy with half a joint in the corner.. we could ask if his hookup was local."
<banana> Kyle: "Reefer? Seriously?"
<Quaker> Orient shrugs. “Don’t feel any pressure to join in. I’d like to relax.” He gets up and bothers the guy in the corner.
<banana> Out in the ring, there's a minor warmup event - two men in leotards doing something like gymnastics but with less grace.
<banana> Trajan: "Got tons of em, nice to meet you." She steps back a little as Caveat turns for a slightly tentative hug.
<banana> Fieldmouse: "I feel pressured to join in, if he's got two."
<Crion> Cleaner only embraces her with one arm. The other one shoves a Smith & Wesson Model 30, holstered, fully loaded, into her waistband. Into her ear, he whispers: "Two vampires, one male, one female, and a pretender."
<Quaker> When he comes back, it’s with a pair of spare joints he’s bought off the man. He hands the other to Fieldmouse. “I understand the appeal of a place like this.”
<banana> Lewis and Kyle go back to arguing politics. The topic seems to be Civil Rights, where it's going next, what Nixon's done so far (he gets a grudging 'ok' mark from both).
<Crion> Then he steps back.
<Crion> Loudly: "Let's get drunk."
<Quaker> Is that how they feel normal?
<Crion> He's still wearing his sunglasses. If they're real motherfuckers, they'll have heard that.
<banana> Twenty-five minutes to the match as Cleaner arrives trailing women. Ambrose is telling Orient that the place is like a parody - "Rosie O'Grady's" and the only dark drink they serve is Guinness - but that hell, it's ok.
<Quaker> Orient doesn’t butt in.
<Quaker> Claudio: “There’s nothing wrong with Guinness. People become spoiled, don’t they? They see something so often in a supermarket or a neighborhood store they get sick of it. But seeing a Guinness in a place where they ferment brake fluid and sell it as whiskey is like seeing a rose.”
<banana> Ambrose: "It's fine, it's just.. real stereotype. Like green on la fheile Padraig. Lotta people around here and all the way up to West Virginia with 'Irish heritage'."
<banana> Unless Cleaner does something about it, he faces the reality that Caveat and Trajan are going to strike up a wary conversation. Did 'let's get drunk' mean actually heading to the bar, or is he just kind of wandering around staring meaninfully at vampires and repeating the past tense?
<Crion> They can talk as much as they want. 'Let's get drunk' was for the two, three, or four shitheads who are here with ill intent.
<Crion> Doesn't mean he didn't just order a round of drinks, thouhg.
<Crion> *though
<banana> Fieldmouse to Orient: "Hey, when you pointed out that I'm senior now that we're a separate pylon, and have responsibility for security.." Callis, if that's really his name is relaxing a little for the first time since you've met him.
<Crion> What Cleaner's going to do is fade to at least a table, so that if someone wants to strike him over it they need to break a pint glass.
<Quaker> Orient doesn’t remember mentioning that. “Senior to who?”
<banana> Caveat: "..right, I've heard from Ynkblot. Does that involve any actual judgement calls?"
<banana> Trajan: "Absolutely not!"
<banana> Caveat: "And if you had to make some?"
<banana> Trajan: "I'd defer them to the last minute and decide by default. Learned that from a liberal arts education."
<banana> Fieldmouse: "Sorry, that was Henrik David. Hey, wait a sec."
<banana> "'Henrik David', like, Nields Henrik David Bohr? Ahaha."
<banana> "Anyway, um. He said I had to be responsible for security, and I got the feeling you guys are not.. undisappointed with what you've found in the project. That fair?"
<Quaker> Orient: “I don’t know. The whole thing seems like a mess. I’m not sure I’d single any of you out.”
<Crion> Cleaner appears to be watching the ring.
<Crion> He's leaning back hard enough that the gun under his right arm is just slightly visible.
<banana> Fieldmouse: "A relief, and I'm sorry for mixing the two of you up. But it is a mess, unfixed, right, so.. have you been on projects like this anywhere else? Big public fakes with iffy power-structure contacts? Do you have any advice?"
<Crion> And he's still scanning the room for those three -- two? -- vampires.
<Quaker> Orient: “Yes. It’s generally a bad idea.”
<banana> The vampires out in the crowd don't know there are mages here, or don't care. None of them have come close to the entrance to the bar, but they wouldn't- better hunting out in poorly-lit crush of people finding their way to seats in the stands.
<Crion> That's better than it could be.
<Crion> He reaches out, grabs Caveat by the waist, and pulls her back to the table. Whispering into her ear: "Do you give a shit about these vampires?
<Crion> "
<banana> PA system: "The Dilemma at Seven, the Fight Night in Minutes Nine- get ready to experience chaos! The Khan is coming!"
<Crion> Okay then.
<banana> Lewis: "So another half-hour, given the promos. One more round?"
<banana> Caveat: "Thank god, that woman is exhausting."
<banana> Trajan finds Claudio and Ambrose's table, sits amid the cloud they've formed. "I can't believe this thing means I can't smoke."
<Crion> He grins. "Yeah. But she's a killer."
<banana> Caveat: "Um. If they're feeding quietly and getting out without making a scene, technically that's the behaviour we want to encourage.."
<Quaker> Orient: “What if we just turn away while you do?”
<banana> Amanda: "Thanks, but I don't want to stink up the inside of a fishbowl I've got to keep wearing. How do real bikers deal?"
<banana> Ambrose: "I don't think they wear helmets."
<Crion> His hand moves very slightly up her tummy from her gun. "So do we stop anyone from dying?"
<Quaker> Claudio: “Can you drink?”
<banana> Caveat leans in. "Same question you ask in a hospital. Same answer."
<banana> "Did you want to watch this.. thing? My place isn't far."
<Crion> Cleaner leans in too. "No one says 'I want to kiss you' in a hospital."
<banana> Caveat: "Why just say it?"
<Quaker> Orient: “Who’s Cleaner’s girlfriend, anyway?”
<Crion> Before the question mark, there's an exclamation point.
<banana> Trajan: "Sure, I'll just have one. Got to stay sharp!"
<Crion> He'll motion to Orient as they leave. He's left everyone with as many guns as possible.
<Crion> What's Caveat's place like?
<Quaker> Claudio buys her one of whatever she wants.
<banana> Trajan: "She's Caveat, the Panopticon embed here in Orlando. Likes to answer questions with quotations from philosophers if she thinks you won't get it. Sounds like they've been in the wars together."
<banana> Ambrose: "Literal wars?"
<banana> Amanda: "Yeah, looks like a few kills a week from her aura. Jealous.."
<banana> Fieldmouse: "Psycho."
<banana> Trajan probably grins, but you can't see it.
<Quaker> “How about you two? Single?”
<banana> Like most of the Walt Disney World pylon, Caveat doesn't literally live in the theme park - only Ynkblot lairs at the official hq - but in an apartment nearby. It's small and plush, with soft carpets that run up to the wall and covers or plastic on most surfaces. Banging your arm or leg on something is a particular hatred of hers, Cleaner's learned.
<Crion> Mmmmm. But not banging.
<banana> Trajan, happily: "Since my husband died. Love of your life gone at nineteen, gets it out of the way."
<banana> Ambrose watches Orient for a moment before responding. "I'm with Daniel. On and off. He can be a bit much."
<Quaker> Orient: “I’m sorry to hear that.” He lights the joint. “You believe in soulmates, that kind of thing, you mean?”
<banana> Amanda: "Sure. That's how it felt, anyway, although there is a huge caveat - haha - which is that I was 19. Like. Imagine being literally nineteen years old."
<banana> Ambrose: "I can't."
<banana> "Soulmates aren't a real thing, though. Destiny is obviously fake."
<Crion> Davis bolts the door, hangs his gun in a prominent place, and then everything else that happens is between him and her.
<banana> Acanthus tend to believe either that or the exact opposite.
<Quaker> Orient: “Well. Greeting card ideas of Destiny, I suppose.”
<Crion> An hour later, she still has fantastic taste in wine.
<banana> Amanda: "Lemme tell you, I have met a number of people absolutely convinced that they had a glorious fate ahead of them who were incorrect."
<Quaker> “When I was nineteen, I was in my second year of university.”
<banana> Ambrose: "Where was that, back in Italy?"
<Quaker> “Yes. The University of Bologna.”
<Crion> He's also recovered his gun from the coat closet.
<banana> Later, once the wine is out, Caveat asks questions. "Those people - you recognise the type?"
<Crion> Sipping: "Which kind. Vampires or wizards."
<banana> "Your new co-workers. They're jobbers. Lewis is a jobber with Mastery of Forces, which makes him dangerous."
<Crion> Davis chuckles. "You're talking wrestling now?"
<banana> Ambrose: "Nice. I've never travelled to Italy, but I'd like to.. see what it's like this time round. Less massive architecture, I guess, but happier people.."
<banana> Caveat: "I read up in case you were going to make me sit through the match!"
<banana> Meanwhile, earlier, the match:
<Quaker> Orient: “Less was destroyed then you might think. There’s hardly a trace of that now.”
<Crion> He laughs. It's far more genuine than what he did before they reached her apartment. "That's good! It's good. We might have to do it again. Those fuckers love drama."
<Crion> Davis is quiet a moment. Then: "How're you doing?"
<Crion> He knows he asked last time they talked, but now he can see her face.
<banana> The bar is emptying as everyone takes their seats or whichever empty ones they can scrounge. Cheers from the crowd as the hometown champion parades around the squared circle, a huge gilded belt held above his head, the referees preparing - then a man like a barrel leaps in from the side of the stage. Announcers scramble theatrically. "It's a surprise attack- the Khan couldn't wait for the bell! Folks, this is a devastating surprise attack, betrayal like I have never seen-"
<banana> Kyle leads everyone to a set of seats right by the ring, mysteriously held empty for the five Seers. Ambrose tells Orient, almost lost in the noise of the crowd: "That's nice to hear. Not quite what I meant.."
<Quaker> Orient: “What did you mean?”
<banana> Trajan's looking around. "Cleaner coming back?", she asks Lewis.
<banana> Fieldmouse: "Where I was born you, well, you won the war. The Italian Empire, half of Africa as a share of the spoils."
<banana> His weird accent is starting to make a bit more sense.
<Quaker> “…”
<banana> Madeline says: "I'm fine. You know me. All we've got to do here is.. do the job. If they need it done faster they can send more people, if they don't care they won't.. I just keep my head up and keep up the counterintelligence. It's almost collegial."
<Crion> Davis: "Almost?"
<Quaker> Orient: “What?”
<banana> Fieldmouse: "My home doesn't exist. Sacrificed for a historical pivot, big important shit. For my loyal service at the very bottom of a big pyramid I got to keep existing, emigrate to reality." He doesn't sound very happy about that at all.
<Crion> He walks past her to the refrigerator, gets out the water, pours a cold glass for himself, and kisses her on the crown of her head as he walks by.
<Quaker> Orient: “Oh.” He’s not sure what to say. He’s never met a survivor of another timeline before.
<banana> Fieldmouse: "It's fine. Only the British are to blame, and everyone seems to agree with that here, too, so,"
<Quaker> Orient: “Well, let’s watch the show.” He supposes that while it’s true that everyone loses their childhood homes to the progress of time, perhaps saying it out loud would be less than comforting.
<banana> Madeline stretches idly and steals the glass. "They make a ruckus, we put it down, they fade into the shadows. I think everyone's happier this way, honestly. We never liked working with the Camarilla, they never liked fighting their own kind. Some of the upper-gen faces, when I see them now it's like everyone's glad to be meeting up again for a good solid brawl."
<Crion> Davis takes a drink from the wine, then. "How often do you see them?"
<banana> Lewis: "Hell yeah let us watch the show." One big man just dropped off the ropes onto another and pretended to put his entire weight into an elbow to the throat. A convincing pretence, but the other guy is still alive afterwards.
<banana> Madeline: "We manage to catch them a few times a week, but it's mostly thinbloods. Jugulum - ahem - Jugulum's pack are too much for us to take on without a real good setup, and there's also a high-gen elder who interferes at times. But we've pretty much prevented them from growing their numbers. Situation's stable."
<banana> "I never thought I'd learn this much about the undead, you know?"
<Crion> Davis: "HA!"
<Crion> "Fucking Jugulum."
<banana> Caveat: "If I could just learn where he keeps his coffin. Or where he gets his warnings."
<Crion> He sips the wine. "Well. Hrm."
<Crion> "He knows what's coming before it's coming?"
<banana> Funnily enough, this is the kind of information Cleaner wasn't privy to when he actually worked for the Disney World pylon. But now he's been promoted to their rank, so: "Not quite so general, but they can detect our movements. We thought at first it was through ties to mortals- that's why all the locals got sent away when our lot came in."
<banana> Caveat: "The city is.. they claim it, somehow, monitor what goes on inside."
<Crion> "That can't be permitted."
<Crion> He glances at his love. "Not regarding you."
<Crion> Davis sips the wine again. "In general."
<banana> Dory Funk, Jr. is finally overcoming his enemy through grit and his special finishing move. Trajan yells, the noise reverbrating from her helmet, as does Kyle - the excitement of sports entertainment sits oddly on his round and goateed face.
<banana> Ambrose: "We could use some of these guys on the soundstage."
<Crion> He kills the glass, and pours another one from the bottle. Madeline still has his ice water. "There has to be a meeting of walls. Ours against theirs."
<Crion> "And when they meet, well."
<Crion> "So many questions."
<Crion> "Asked of one man."
<banana> Madeline: "Frankly, dealing with the vampire leaders for long made us soft. We don't know enough about their powers and weaknesses. We trusted the big elders to keep their own people down, and the Miami group failed."
<Crion> Davis grins. "It's almost certainly a man."
<Quaker> Orient wanders away from them, looking through the crowd as he walks by people.
<Crion> "Oh."
<Crion> "Oh, we should have killed them all."
<banana> "Something similar's happening in New York, Atlanta.. all along the coast these 'Army of Cain' turds have been taking over."
<banana> "My guess, it's going to escalate to a whole-regional matter and then the archmasters step in. And then we win."
<Crion> "I--" Davis paused, passed behind her again, walked to the apartment's faucet and poured another glass of water. "I would like to know the extent of the 80th percentile outcome."
<Crion> "You're not wrong, babe."
<Crion> "But what do we do if you're not right?"
<banana> Caveat: "In theory, we could show initiative. Sounds like effort."
<Crion> Caveat?
<banana> Orient notices things most people wouldn't. For example just how into this the crowd are: it's engrossing! There are totally spontaneous chants and demonstrations going on, things being thrown into the ring (now that a side event is beginning and the local hero's not a big part of it).
<banana> The sympathetic connections between the wrestlers and faraway places, also- it's all part of a loose confederation, really, and Dory Funk has no closer ties to "Florida Championship Wrestling" than he does to a line which must stretch all the way to New York City.
<banana> Also, there are three individuals among the crowd whose minds aren't open to him, catching people in moments off guard to sink fangs into their necks or wrists and sip on their blood.
<Crion> Davis grins, but it rolls back. "Effort isn't the worst thing in the world."
<banana> The vampires appear to be sampling - picking a fan for a quick bite then slipping away. This crowd is like a damn tasting platter to them.
<Quaker> The feeling of utter, existential boredom that’s overcome him since this morning grows even as he sees this. It just feels so small. Vampires? You know nuclear war is a real possibility, right? Wrestling? You know we just saw the Forbidden Seal, right? Orient supposes that three of them don’t remember, actually. But, still….how can you enjoy any of this after seeing something really important?
<Crion> He'll take her to bed again, if she's willing. But the gun stays on the bedside table, and his mind, after his communion, stays outside of the room.
<Crion> And that's how the best nights of his life work now.
<Quaker> He simultaneously wants to go home, and also scream at the top of his lungs.
<banana> Through the ropes of the ring, under a leaping wrestler's body, Claudio catches Lewis - Captain or Major Whoever - in an unguarded moment. His face is set, grim, and he's watching the match like a drowning man watches a thrown lifebelt.
<banana> Then he glances to the side, at his friends and former subordinates, and looks like a totally ordinary guy enjoying a great night out. There are no hung spells on any of them.
<Crion> Nice move.
<Quaker> Orient stops beside him. “You look like you’ve just been told you’re going to have to get up there next round.”
<banana> Lewis: "That would be a laugh. It's been twenty-five years since boot camp - I'd have to reverse gravity just to beat the Inedible Khan."
<Quaker> Orient: “That sounds like fun, though. Reversing gravity.”
<banana> Lewis has his eyes back on the ring. "Sure is. It's a great trick when you're flying a Mustang - turn the world to compensate for the inadequate ailerons."
<Quaker> Orient: “You were a pilot?”
<banana> Yet later, Madeline: "What exactly does she want you to do? What can you do to a paradox some idiot got stuck to her face?"
<Crion> Davis: "Not much."
<Crion> "But she is what she is."
<Crion> "And she's a responsibility."
<banana> Lewis: "I'm still on the rolls of airmen, somewhere. Filed under unspecified special duties. Haven't actively flown since Korea, though."
<Quaker> Orient: “Did you ever happen to fly over Trieste in the spring of 1945?”
<banana> "It was quite a scene - repurposed fighters doing what were essentially infantry strafe runs, switching back to guns when the yak-nines came in. Trieste? No, we rarely got that far east."
<banana> Madeline: "Sure. Just don't get any of it on you."
<banana> "She only asked about me, not you.. one of those types who thinks they're good at judging people quickly."
<Crion> He turns over and kisses her.
<Crion> Davis: "You know me."
<Crion> Davis: "You know what's going to happen, if the bottom falls out."
<banana> Madeline: "Eh?"
<Crion> He leans away.
<Quaker> Orient: “I only ever saw them as shadows up in the sky.” He watches the wrestlers a bit. “I think I’m going to catch a cab back to my hotel. Thank you for the invitation, Lewis. I had fun.”
<Crion> "She's the first on the list. And it's not a good one."
<banana> Caveat lies still for a moment, not reacting but contemplating. "Make it a last resort. Davis.. I'm not sure you'd win."
<Crion> He runs a hand up her side, brushes back her hair, then rolls away. "That's fair."
<banana> Lewis beams. There's faint music in his nimbus for a moment - 'we didn't start the something or other'. 'War'? "Good call coming out. Looks like you'll be here a while, so it's good to see that some of the absurdities in this state are fun 'uns."
<banana> Ambrose, Kyle: "Yeah, good to talk to you." Trajan's excusing herself, but she nods, just avoiding banging the helmet on someone else's head.
<Quaker> This fucking place. This fucking life. Orient finds a payphone and a phonebook hanging from a chain.
<banana> There's a little moonlight left before dawn when two Moros meet on top of the hotel across from Gillie Hall. Trajan's on the edge of the roof, looking south over Orlando, with her helmet gone; there's a little pile of ashes to the left of her and a corpse, the chained bouncer ghoul, to the right. When Cleaner takes a step out of the stairwell she says, "Hey. Thanks again for coming."
<banana> Who's Orient calling?
<Crion> Cleaner: "Uh huh."
<banana> "Have you done much ritual magic? We need to be very precise. So here's exactly what I want:"
<Crion> Cleaner: "Be precise."
<Crion> "And be in debt."
<Quaker> The first taxi service he sees.
<Crion> "Those are two things you need to understand."
<Crion> Cleaner is carrying a soft brown canvas bag with him.
<Crion> Just in case.
<Crion> He puts it down near the door.
<banana> Trajan: "I need Orient's contribution to this aurora paradox removed, so that I can continue maintaining the Death aurora, as it was. I owe you for listening and I'll owe you more for going through with it, but-" She turns, makes an expression you can't remember, turns back- "I don't owe anyone dourness. Let's take this thing seriously without it making us into people who can only take things that way."
<Crion> Cleaner: "I didn't ask you to be sad about it."
<Crion> "I asked you to respect what the fuck was happening."
<Crion> "I've got a handgun, a battle rifle, and nearly two decades of magic on this rooftop."
<Crion> "Let's do or die, yeah?"
<banana> There's a little ritual circle in wet dust around the dead ghoul - telltale signs of a blood sacrifice. "Well, you'll only need the decades."
<banana> Pitching her voice to be audible behind and to the side, Trajan begins explaining the Imago of a spell which can move mana into and out of standing paradox.
<Crion> Cleaner: "Don't tell me what I need."
<banana> If they teach this routinely in the Praetorian Ministry, something is seriously wrong with the organisation. The spell verges on Abyss-manipulation.
<banana> It'll involve Prime magic as well as the arcana of the paradox itself - the latter two needing to be comprehended by a single mind, Cleaner's role in the proposed rite.
<Crion> Does anyone expect they do? Cleaner doesn't.
<Crion> But Cleaner's seen all of this up close.
<banana> The whole thing should take about an hour and only basic tools, but plenty of mana - first to break apart the bipartite paradox, then to re-strengthen half of it as the rest is left to fade.
<Crion> Here's the good news, though: It requires Cleaner.
<Crion> Cleaner: "Trajan."
<banana> Many people, Cleaner could see, would be fascinated by the possibilities: it's a kind of spell which lets you twist, evade and restate the Lie itself.
<banana> She's finished her precis of the ritual and moved to collect an implement from the sacrificed man. "Yep?"
<Crion> Cleaner: "I'm going to walk away."
<banana> She pauses. "I really wish you wouldn't. Please."
<Crion> Cleaner: "Okay. Give me a favor."
<banana> Trajan: "What do you want me to do?"
<Crion> Cleaner: "You don't get to know that yet."
<Quaker> The moment he gets in, Orient sits down in front of Isaias’s books and begins to read.
<Crion> Cleaner: "I'm asking you to make the worst decision in the world."
<Crion> Cleaner: "And it'll save you."
<banana> Trajan: "I need my face back."
<Crion> Cleaner: "I'm not promising you anything. Give me the favor."
<banana> "I'll do what you ask, though there's only one thing I'm really good at."
<Crion> "I know."
<banana> Her voice isn't quite steady anymore. "For the ritual, we should be back to back, standing perpendicular to the sunrise."
<Crion> "It doesn't make you weak," Cleaner says. "The sunrise happens everyday."
<Crion> He's got a gun, and he's looking out across the sky.
<banana> Trajan can't see the gun, since she can't look at him. What's it for?
<Crion> She'll find out. Or she won't.
<Crion> A question:
<Crion> "Do you want to die?"
<banana> Trajan: "No, thanks."
<Crion> Cleaner: "I didn't ask for your thanks."
<Crion> "You know what you're doing."
<Crion> "You know the way that it ends."
<banana> "Yeah, well, everything ends. Sure I know. I awakened under the Watchtower of the Lead Coin, cursed be its et cetera."
<banana> "Could you get over here and incur me a dire debt already?"
<Crion> Cleaner: "So did I, circumstance be circumstance."
<Crion> "No, I don't think so."
<Crion> "I need more assurances."
<banana> Trajan turns around, looking- you can't remember. "General's tits! What do you want, man? Should I swear on the Throne, give you a lock of my hair, jump off the roof?" Each word vanishes from your consciousness as she, presumably, speaks, leaving only an impression of the meaning.
<Crion> Cleaner: "You should swear on something closer to yourself, woman. And then you should understand the sacrifice."
<Crion> He waves both arms, then gathers them together. "Do you owe me?"
<banana> Amanda bows her and covers what remains of the face-mirror with her arms, just enough to be memorable. "Yes I owe, yes I understand you won't make it easy, yes, here's the proof to hold over my head: you're doing something for me which Lewis wouldn't. I don't have enough secrets to give you anything else."
<Crion> Cleaner: "Stand the hell up."
<Crion> Cleaner: "If I'm going to stand against the sky with you, I want to stand tall."
<banana> *bows her head
<banana> This might not be a great way to win friends, but she does it, takes a breath to calm herself - you haven't seen THAT before - and then begins to lead you in a chant.
<Crion> This is a fantastic way to win friends.
<banana> For an hour, crossing sunrise at its peak, the two necromancers incant.
<Crion> Would she trust him if he did otherwise?
<banana> By the end they're in sync to some degree; the contingency Trajan mentioned, unleashing the ritual's potential by pattern scouring, doesn't come to pass. The spell 'takes' first time, and you reach out with your supernal senses - through a channel of prime magic Trajan creates and into the aurora covering her face, grasping not directly at the Abyssal stuff of the paradox itself but at the wild magic which is its edge, its interaction with the fallen world.
<banana> To the edge of his understanding of mind magic, Cleaner picks apart the wild forgetting spell which wove itself in there earlier. Trajan slowly turns as a mirrored mask comes off her face, a solid object slipping to the - you're not sure where it went. Still can't remember the damn thing.
<banana> Anyway, you can almost see her eyes for the first time - the death-mask is back, the reality bruise which covers just those sockets from brow to cheek, but it's very faded. On the edge of passing into nothing.
<Crion> Cleaner dives forward, but makes sure to keep an arm on Trajan's shoulder -- this doesn't flow both ways, but to the extent it does, if you're touching an anchor you'll ream the boatswain.
<Crion> Well, fuck.
<Crion> But good.
<banana> As he dives - to catch the mask? - Trajan alters the flow of mana, withdraws from the ritual to cast one last spell. This one hurts her, given how much she had to pour into the main thing, but it seems to be a well practiced spell. The Abyss is invited, technically, ever so slightly, to a miniscule degree, for what it matters (it matters a lot)- anyway, it's invited in. The Death paradox restrengthens, hides her eyes.
<banana> Trajan blinks a few times, which you can only tell from contracting facial muscle, and steadies herself. "There we go. It's me."
<banana> "Okay. I look forward to finding out what I've promised to do." The smile in her voice is back but it's pretty damn weak for now.
<Crion> Cleaner: "It's you."
<Crion> "Yeah."
<Crion> "Same."
<Crion> Cleaner: "I'm sorry."
<Crion> "If you didn't want Hell, I wouldn't have let you into Heaven."
<Crion> "That's the plus minus."
<banana> She squats to clean up the implements and the circle of dust. "I honestly don't understand what that means, but I don't think I was meant to?"
<Crion> He laughs. Then: "You know how to find me, right?"
<banana> "Sure. Goin' home now." You both sound tired.
<Crion> Cleaner loves rooftops, though. "You don't need a ride?"
<Crion> He's just leaning against an embankment.
<banana> Oriente stays up for too long reading the few scraps of information his friend has been able to smuggle out of libraries which even mention the Gate.
<banana> The problem with an Exarch whose purview is creative nonexistence is the nonexistence and extracurricular creativity of his worshippers' writings. There are hints of a hidden order, a kind of mini-Ministry whose few work on the interface between the world and the Abyss, rather than to control the world itself; overly-specific refutations of those same hints, worded in ways which must be secretly meaningful phrasing for those in the know, which you aren't..
<banana> How does the Gate actually make herself known? When is he actually possible to contact, and when is it desirable? What does she want?
<banana> Reading between the lines the answer to all those questions is the same and pretty obvious.
<banana> You already know how to invite the Seals into your dreams. And you already know the consequences.
<Crion> Well, fuck.
<Quaker> Orient reads on. The words blur in front of his eyes. He wakes up every few minutes. The clock on the wall reads 3 in the morning.
<Quaker> How many people did he watch die? How many did he have to kill? How many years abroad, how many illegal orders, how many postponed ambitions? How many years of his life has he given? He thinks about what he thought would be his prize.
<Quaker> They passed him onto these people, onto this ridiculous, boring, psychotic experiment without a second’s thought. They granted pointless life to Fieldmouse after destroying his reality.
<Quaker> What would happen if he followed their orders? More misery. More uncertainty. The rest, the normal people, who thought they would escape the churn of this prison. He can’t think of anyone who got out, who didn’t have to erase themselves from the world.
<Quaker> He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he did what they expected of him.
<Quaker> He doesn’t want to die for something so stupid.
<Quaker> The first time he says it, he’s nervous, like a kid. “Il Cancello.” He half-expects something to happen, someone to burst in through the door and scold him.
<Quaker> “Il Cancello.”
<Quaker> He says it eleven times. You have to think about something if you want to dream about it. And if it’s the Eye, instead…oh well. Let it know that it’s bad at it’s job, bad at getting people to care, before it kills him.
<Quaker> Claudio falls asleep listening to the cicadas.