fool's jaws stand apage for

The dust has cleared.

The filthy and unscrupulous demon goddess calling itself Hope tried to reach to the whole world and spread her power. The traumatized Jackie, in response to the soul devouring, genocidal bitch decided to kill her.

Their actions threatened to destroy all of the Earth. But in a moment of self sacrifice, Hope decided that letting herself die in place of the Earth itself seemed like the only right thing to do. She still wasn't a good guy, and no one can forgive what she's done. But sometimes even the worst villains know when the Earth is more important.

The Ark, however, seems to still be betting on total global collapse.

And now the most powerful entities the Shadowside knows are converging to wrest a technology they don't understand away from the heroes. As Jay has lost his partner to a replacement that is a sad and tragic soul, and Kristobal's team of scientists work to stop all of their enemies, across time two women are rewriting reality.

Janna and June are watching the very apex moment when reality changed for the world. And they're changing it into something else. The council has taken June's advice and is waiting for Janna's.

Categories

Setting:

Stage:

Players:

Post Frequency:

Currently Accepting New Players:

Replies

Forge's picture

Kristobal

Combat: 
EY, NY, EY
Magic: 
NYA , EY
Influence: 
HYA
Else: 
N, --

Kristobal listens very, very carefully to everything Ishmael, Ernest and Thomas have to say. He repeats their words inside his head in silence several times over to make sure he understands. Standing perfectly still, his speech sparse and precise, he could pass for a very deliberate and deep thinker. The truth is he's just slow. Just slow -too many books in the old bookcase and hard to sort at a moment's notice.

Living in these modern times could almost feel like slow-motion drowning, if he let it. For all practical purposes he is like a lost time-traveler; one who has leaped unwilling into a wild, wild and strange version of the future, a future that is nothing like the home he knew; always difficult to understand, always presenting itself in shades of grey rather than the comforting black and white he was built for. Deep down he will always be a stranger in a strange land, and alone, stumbling stubbornly only on Faith from one blind room to the next, from one blurry epiphany to the next, surrounded by people who always seem much faster, well-adapted, smarter. People like Jackie.

Perhaps what he said to Jackie was wrong.

He said to Jackie that Noah had being unwilling -rather than unable- to use radio technology to spread his murderous nanite frequency. Was this so? Hearing Thomas now, hearing how the other Gods have just recently tried and failed at replicating Hope's radio-technology feat, brief and deadly as it was, makes him wonder. Strange rules start to formulate in his head: Station + Angel = Powerful Station. Station + God's Avatar = Even more Powerful Station, and Station-Coverage-sized God-Presence. Avatar + Ark nanites = Station-Coverage-sized God-Bomb! And while Gods's mortal Avatars can be killed and replaced -frequently too, as Cuddy so smugly assured him- a God can only sacrifice Itself once, to preserve the life of a beloved Avatar -or in this case Earth itself. The scariest thought of all is that maybe this radio station is unique and the frequencies it emitted -first the hope, then the nanites, and finally the healing- cannot ever be replicated from any other place, nor by any other God.

"I have asked much of you, Brozer Thomas. But if you had been one minute too late vith your healing frequency, ze vorld vould have been forfeit. May ze Lord hold your memory forever in His Glory, fur your efforts have saved His Earth from early flames."

He considers.

Monique, if she agreed to his instruction, is probably talking to Accelletrix right now, telling the corporation about Grim/Hope's demise, and about how radio technology can either doom or save the earth, depending on the frequency. And now eight Gods are coming to contest ownership of Mr. Biggles' Sanctum and legacy. Only a handful of innocent souls on hand to defend it... No.

"Continue your vork, Brozer. You have one day. Make seven copies of the package. You are to carry one, vith Ishmael and Ernest. Blueberry und Harold are to carry ze second. Ze Courier ze third. Longjohn und ze vorkers ze fourth. Vater Allen und ze school-girls ze fifth. Dr. Fisher ze sixth -even if she ist confined to Limbo. Talitha und I vill carry ze seventh. Vee vill spread as far as vee can -all over Gott's earth, to try to replicate your healing frequency from any radiostations vee find along ze vay, und vhere one may fall seven have a chance. All seven Missionary groups are to leave ze station by dawn, before ze Gotts arrive. Talitha und I vill remain, und if necessary, vee vill destroy ze station. [Thomas surely knows what the old knight means. Who is to say what these Gods will do with their power?]. Zank you, Brozer."

Saying so, Kristobal -with Talitha's help if she agrees, and he really does need her- starts the grim task of carrying explosives from the armory stash to various strategic points around the station... and tying them all to a single detonator, which he will keep in his pocket. He also prepares some meager defenses -all defenses are to be called "meager" compared to the power of eight Gods. He communicates his plans to all, as he works. He is sorry Longjohn built beautiful barracks for nothing... but they wouldn't survive the wrath of eight Gods, anyway. He is particularly interested in Blueberry and Harold -for if Thomas's frequency can save the wounded environment, Blueberry's techniques will save all who were wounded by it.

And yet all this is defensive. Attacking the Ark seems to have fallen to second priority after the storming Gods, but if Harold or Dr. Fisher are able to, Kristobal has a day to talk with them too, as he works setting up defenses and explosives. It will be the last time, he fears, that he can have this kind of time for conversation.

Then it will be time for goodbyes. Where one team could fail seven may succeed. The Lord chose four evangelists to re-tell His message after all... but this world may need seven.

Give Kudos: 
0
No kudos given yet

-=[Live Forever]=-

Yuanakil's picture

Jayquon

Combat: 
EYA
Magic: 
HYB, NYA, NYB
Influence: 
NYB
Else: 
HYA, NYB, --

Under normal circumstances, a normal man might crumble under the weight of losing his newlywed spouse--after a fashion, anyway. He might take issue with suddenly finding out he has a child to take care off--of a sort. He especially might have a problem with that child suddenly growing up to be a young woman close to his own age. Oh, and then there's the whole bit where she's the resurrected soul of a dead god as channeled through his perception of the rapacious, all-devouring ravages of life on the streets.

For better or worse, Jay is not a normal man.

He scoops the younger girl up in his arms, strengthened by thousands of muscle-ups practiced while running from the police, but now turned to the practice of embrace. His feet, accustomed to stepping over crack-stained gutters and the outstretched arms of the homeless he could never afford to help, spin them around in circles and carry them away from the place where Hope died. His eyes, long valued only for their ability to accurately confer horrors to his brain for later replication, gaze upon the most beautiful creature he has ever seen, formed wholly of love. And his lips, so long abused by the voices inside of his head, turn to the simple but profound act of laying a kiss on her cheek and laughing with joy.

"Baby girl," he says with a smile on those lips, finally taking a moment to set her down and string the proffered locket around his neck, "Streets. You got no idea how happy I am to see you--and we got a show to do, y'know what I'm sayin'? One time--for your mom."

Then he steps over to Kristobal, bringing Streets with him by a light touch on her elbow, and says, "Yo--sword dude. You got another missionary pair, if you're willin'; it don't look like this place is gonna' last much longer. I figure maybe I--we--can still fight the good fight." Then, turning to Streets, he says, "What do you say, lady? Wanna' spread some love to the world?"

Give Kudos: 
0
Average: 5 (1 vote)
DarkMoonINC's picture

Ishmael adjusts his glasses. "I wrote a thesis on the structure of the universe. I'm refining it right now. Basically, anything that enters this parallel realm starts to suffer entropy. It dissolves. Things of flesh seem to sustain, like an anchor, maintaining stability. However... spiritual energy seems to dissolve faster without flesh."

"From dust to dust." Thomas replies. "Doesn't matter, I suppose. Reincarnation."

"Yes." Ishmael continues. "We believe the parallel realm feeds reality by dissolving itself. We believe that's it's relationship. Things die, break down, dissolve, and that's how we rebuild the world of flesh. Whatever Biggles did to this place is dark work. He trapped an angel and plugged flesh world objects, real objects, into it in this spiritual world. It's connected back to it's flesh somehow. So he's created a place that dissolves from spirit back into flesh without losing itself in the process."

"It's an eternal building. Out of reality. Where flesh and spirit are one. Probably what the angel's power did, a side effect. Angels are holy and eternal creatures." Thomas turns to look at the electronic paneling. "So it's an angel powered building. He's been powering it with that, making it. It existed in both planes. And angelic building."

"Yes. The building's power is fading because the angel is gone. Jayquon's Hope was in before the closure, the gap, when the angel left, that she held it open. But it was crushing her. As reality and spirit were separating. So Hope, to save reality so that the everything wouldn't be destroyed, she let herself be sucked out. She became the nothing that exists between spirit and flesh."

"She's in the abyss. Huh. So Jayquon isn't enough?"

"No. No, Hope wasn't one spirit. It was a few million. And it shed souls everytime it regenerated itself. When the nanites got into her, she was shedding thousands of souls a second, fending them off. But she was running out. They were winning. So she pulled them out of flesh and spirit. Into the nothing." Ishmael turns back to look at them. "The connection will be pulling this building apart soon. All the gods, these great massive soul conglomerations lumbering here. They'll probably be here right before it collapses."

"What would that do?" Thomas gasps.

"Well if it's the severing and not the nanites, then the matter stays inside the system. It shuffles over to flesh. Which means the real world will have weak spirit, and very very strong flesh."

"Kristobal. I serve the Lord's will. There is no reason for God's two worlds to be destroyed." Thomas is messing with wiring. "But I am not important."

Somewhere Monique is speaking with Accellatrix about the future of the world.

Talitha is silent.

As many of the survivors pour into the laboratory and prepare to fulfill all of Kristobal's orders. All of them know the clock is ticking.

Give Kudos: 
0
No kudos given yet
DarkMoonINC's picture

"All you have to do is visualize, Jay baby." she says. "We're here and there, we're everywhere. So you can walk out of here and get back up."

As Jay walks, he feels the iv cords and shackles shrink around him. They're gone. His leg now has a tiny shackle around his right ankle that cements him in place. As he walks, he's not moving anywhere. The world spins around Jayquon. Only he's noticing it. To everyone else his shackles slides like a ball and chain.

They stand before Kristobal and wait.

Give Kudos: 
0
No kudos given yet
Forge's picture

Kristobal

Combat: 
EY, NY, EY
Magic: 
NYA , EY
Influence: 
HYA
Else: 
N, --

More than half of what the scientists are saying sails right over Kristobal's head, but there's one thing they make him remember: Hope's own words that made him decide to "fill her cup with power". {"Magic is returning to all this continent, [her words echo in his head] and it's eating me."}. The radio was killing her. She was dying. Is it eating Jayquon too?

He turns to look at the young black man and this new woman by his side... instinctively he knows she is with him, although he had never seen her before. Hope's child. They seem to be fine. One more thing that is unique, and hard to replicate... and the talk of reincarnation makes him think of Christ's Second Coming. It was promised from the Clouds. But what it if came in clouds of spray-paint instead? What if Christ came back as a mortal, again, not a Carpenter this time, but a graffitti artist?

Nothing it's too preposterous. The Gods are coming, after all, to compete and place their own mortal champions on that basement chair -if they have any like Hope had Jayquon. But it is no throne -Biggles built it as a cage, a meat-grinder, and that is what it is. All the more reason why all the innocents here should be far gone before it happens. Especially Jayquon. Everything reminds him of Revelations chapter 12.

"Yes [he says to Jayquon]. Please allow Talitha to travel vith you und protect you just fur one day. [He looks at her, communicating the change of plans] Zen I vill join you. Also, vhat of ze slaves? Ze servants of Hope, vhat of zem?"

Jayquon may or may not realize this by now, but Kristobal is seriously considering the possibility that Jayquon could be the reincarnation of Jesus Christ -despite the memories Hope shared. He turns to Talitha and says: "You are to protect him at all costs, please, vhile I deal vith ze coming Gotts. [He takes off the black leather glove of his right hand... Jayquon can see that underneath it's another glove, made of rough, very old cloth. With it, Kristobal reaches as if he was going to softly caress Talitha's cheek... but what he actually does is smudge some of her face paint on the cloth.] Ist safest if you tell no soul of your destination; zis vill lead me to you -vherever in ze vorld you go. (The paint smudge will indeed be his portal back to Talitha via Fe Nwa Bo.) [He puts his glove back on] I can zink of no more important task zan protecting ze Savior... und zere is no one else more capable zan you, or zat I vould trust equally. Vill you help us?"

If Talitha agrees, then the plan is now for Kristobal to remain at the station alone, to face the God-Storm after everyone has gone off to safer places. Talitha will protect Jayquon -no one else is a fighter; certainly not Harold in his current state, and Kristobal wouldn't trust him anyway -not yet.

He turns to Thomas. "Please continue your vork, brozer. I vill distract you no more. Ze seven teams vill depart as soon as you und Blueberry are done." He doesn't say this to Thomas, but Thomas probably already knows it: if the healing signal cannot be replicated from ordinary radio stations, or without Jayquon personally powering it... then the world is probably doomed. Probably. But not yet.

Kristobal turns to Jayquon "Vith your permission, Sire, I vill now seek Blueberry's progress on her half of ze message. It ist just as important as Thomas'." Jayquon is welcome to come along of course, but now Kristobal goes to the holding cells to see how is Blueberry doing with Harold, and perhaps more darkly, to decide what to do with the two Ark prisoners.

Give Kudos: 
0
No kudos given yet

-=[Live Forever]=-

MrSmug's picture

Giacomo 'Jackie' Notelli

Combat: 
-- , --
Magic: 
EYB
Influence: 
HYB, --, NY
Else: 
HYB, --

The fixer has a face like a punched bowl of oatmeal. Jackie and Sal find him in the big corner booth of the Horton's just off the interstate somewhere in Washington. He's digging into the hashbrowns with his cigar-thick fingers and scooping them into his wheezing slurp-hole.

"Christ Stevie, how'd you manage to scooch into that corner?"

"It's the track suit, smart fuck, I glide in like Teflon. What fuck am I doing out here? You putting a score together?"

"Not exactly. I need you to find me some talent and some info."

"Okay, but if there's no score, then there's no cut for me. Why am I helping?"

"Fuck you, you owe me, Stevie."

"Coin don't mean shit these days. Sky's falling, Notelli. All debts out the window."

"Fine, I'll make it worth your while."

"Okay," he grins and mashes his toast like a dishrag into a smear of yolk. "So talk."

Jackie tosses cuddy's phone onto the table. (Assuming he's still got it). "I've had a crazy fucking couple of days, Stevie. Stuck my dick in a power socket and somehow walked away from it all. The whole experience got me thinking."

"What the fuck were you..."

"Not a literal socket. It's metaphorical. Got into weird shit and started thinking. This phone belonged to some high-powered fuckstain. It's all encrypted and shit. I'm thinking there might be something useful on there."

The fixer eyes the phone on the table, but doesn't otherwise budge. "That's great and all, but I don't know what you think I can do with it."

"I heard you set up that run in Modesto. Some savvy tech work, as I heard it."

"Yeah, had a guy. Now he's doing twenty to life."

"You're clever, Stevie. Find a-fucking-nother guy. Also, smoke has it there's some kind of bunker or fortress. I heard it called the Ark. Loonies in black trucks driving around with crazy rifles. Military's hunting them. I want to know where it is and how I can get in there."

"Yeah, this is all real cute. I still dont see why I'm going to bother. I've got a case of bourbon and ten gigs of porn downloaded. I'm planning on enjoying myself till the planet shits itself, ya know? What do you got that I'd want?"

Jackie unwraps a mint from the bowl at the front. He pops it inhis mouth and lets it roll around as he thumbs through what he knows about this sleezeball.

"Hey Stevie, you got that ex-wife, right?"

"Yeah."

"What if I have Sal possess her and get her to stab a traffic cop?"

"You are a fucked kind of fucker, Notelli." He brushes a mitt on his crumpled napkin and extends it across the table, "Deal."

Give Kudos: 
0
Average: 5 (1 vote)
DarkMoonINC's picture

Streets listens to Kristobal. "The slaves have no owner now." and this is all she says to him. She moves to Talitha and whispers to her. They talk to each other quietly.

Around, everyone is prepping to leave.

Thomas nods to a leaving Kristobal, saying "We are almost ready. And we will leave to the ends of the Earth broadcasting the truth. Without Biggle's angel powered station or whatever the hell it was Grim did to it, we'll have less reach. We'll need to move the signal to everything that can broadcast, leaving copies of the signal all over. No matter. God will be with us."

Kristobal arrives to where Blueberry is working hard with an electronic signal. Modulating it slowly.

"You know, my friend, healing a person with your hands is easy. Sending sound to do it, I don't know. Ishmael tried to help me understand bin-aural beats or whatever it is. But this is difficult." She's tired, exhausted, frustrated. She's been healing and comforting people for days now, and it's taking a toll on her.

Behind her, one of the soldiers quietly stares in his cell, still no mouth. Still refusing to talk.

The other cell, however, has a hole in it and the soldier is gone. The one who threatened them.

Blueberry casually glances at Kristobal and the empty cell. "He was asking some of the people guarding his cell what dreams are like, said the soldiers never dreamed. So he learned to dream, and he dreamed himself a way out of his cell." she shakes her head, returning to her work. "He's probably long gone now."

That's when the ripples of reality start wavering through all of them.

Kristobal, Jayquon, Blueberry, and Thomas feel it changing. At first they think it's the Gods arriving, or perhaps another Ark attack.

Then their memories start to separate and twist. Splitting into two, new memories pouring into their minds. The four of them are smart enough to know what it is they face. Someone has changed reality in the past, and they are now in a different present. As it comes upon them, they are receiving new memories and retaining their old ones. As if living two realities at once.

Give Kudos: 
0
Average: 5 (1 vote)
DarkMoonINC's picture

Stevie is looking at this beat up phone. He knows that he can probably retrieve the data off it, all things considered.

"Hey Jackie, you know Chicago's gone? Just... gone. Like a tornado ripped it off the floor?"

Jackie had a cousin in Chicago. Had.

"Some powerful force is making it's way across the world. News agencies are reporting on it and then they vanish, just obliterated by whatever's coming. It's the end of the world."

He finishes his food, licking finger tips and standing.

"Bill's on you, right?" his grin wrinkles out across his face.

"Didn't you already pay?" Jackie feels inclined to say.

"Doesn't matter. You buy next meal then." Stevie's smile turns to a defeated grimace.

And the ripples of time wash through.

Jackie is sitting in this diner now, with Sal and Stevie, watching the cell phone take off to get hacked. And yet memories flood into his head. Of another life. One so unstable and new and fluxuating that he can't pinpoint it. He's facing memories now of living two completely different lives.

And the walls start to shift and separate as the version of reality he's familiar with is slipping away. Invaded, replaced by whatever this new one is.

Give Kudos: 
0
Average: 5 (1 vote)
DarkMoonINC's picture

June wakes up. Blinking, the light above her steady and mellow. It's her apartment. Only it's nice.

The place is expensive. It's a nice condo, with expensive sheets. Around her is the paint job of her dreams. Her dream home, only fit inside a condo because she remembers buying a house was too much of a hassle when she moved.

Pictures hang on the wall. Of a dozen pride parades. Of her various girlfriends. Of her digging dirt on her company, a shipping company with a dozen trucks under her ownership. June suddenly knows she has several million dollars in the bank and her shipping company generates an automatic six figure income for her yearly.

June can feel that Wallace is still connected to her. The memories trailing back in time...

She was at the council meeting. She was talking. And something changed. Something Janna did. And everything got blurry. Now she's home, in her new reality.

The memories of both lives are in her. She remembers the apocalypse, the walking Gods, the Ark threatening all of Earth with it's soldiers and bombs, and then trying to stop the end of the world.

But now she remembers that none of that happened. She made a choice somewhere and she became wealthy. Gone was the fear, gone was the limitations. No one judges a rich person. No one tells a millionaire how to live. She owns a company with loyal workers hand picked by herself, and she encountered her spirit companion the bonded man through a friend named Thomas. Only in this life, he's just a powerful hacker who crossed paths with her.

Does she have a significant other? A soulmate? It appears that's June's choice, whatever choice she made back in the past.

Janna is gone. Whereever she went, June cannot remember. But June is returned, whole and safe, into an alternate version of her life that is far better than anything she had. Everything she owns is a buy it for life, top quality material, regardless of brand name.

Then she remembers why everything changed. They decided not to install a Vault over the Shadowside.

And Accellatrix took over the government. The Adversaries had led a conspiracy movement to change all the world. Like a New World Order. And it worked. Humans the world over were indoctrinated to know about the Shadowside. In the 00s it was taught in schools. Now, in 2014, everyone knows about Heirogamy.

Because the majority of society uses spirits to help them.

It's the normal people, the straight, white, conservative, or non spirit bonded people who are the minority. And they are hunted down and killed by some of the Adversaries.

Oh dear god. The memory hits her. The Adversaries didn't go away, but they didn't become a plague. When the world accepted the Shadowside, the Adversaries retired. They pop up occasionally and all the world does is send in Accellatrix squads to round them up.

June awakes in a world where magic took over. Where the occult is on every corner like Starbucks. Where they broke the damn wide on spiritual energy and everything's flooded now.

True to Wallace's word, she has money and power. Her company runs itself and she's free to just drive anywhere around the US with no man as her master. She has a new freedom.

Give Kudos: 
0
Average: 5 (1 vote)
DarkMoonINC's picture

Kristobal remembers. The ripples move throw the walls and around them. He knows that someone has changed time. Something none of them remember happening before, though some part of him realizes that it may have happened many times.

After World War II a group known as Tenth House wanted to seal the spirit realm away. But someone changed their minds. So instead, they formed into an equivalent of a United Nations. The groups now, Malleus and Thelema and such, show up to a neutral meeting ground and pass judgments. The nine factions fight, but now it is like rival countries and corporations. No more outbreaks or tragedies gone unchecked, as the Tenth House Council moves in local organizations to clean up.

He knows that the Cold War went very differently. Acellatrix took over the US government from the inside out. Russia as well. They formed the Northern Union. While US and Russia are still separate countries, their union prevents the rise of China's barbaric genocidal government. Instead, Fujin, working with Tenth House, shape China under the guidance of the Dali Lama to become the first green energy pacifist country.

The Adversaries returned, infiltrating Acellatrix from the inside. Led by an unknown entity called Jacques, they do something unexpected. In 1991 the Adversaries break open the floodgates of Limbo and Hierogamy. By 2001 8 out of every 10 humans has a spirit partner. Acellatrix monitors and regulates access, travel into and out of Limbo registers on radar like devices and any unauthorized travellers face legal penalties. Then the Adversaries, their mission completed, stop showing themselves. They are no longer a problem.

Heirogamy changes daily life. Death is no longer as scary, though people fight to arrange a proper soul transfer. On natural death, their choice organization helps transfer their dying soul to a Heirogamy with someone they trust. Though some now choose direct transfer into heavenly realms. Everyday people operate supernatural effects like athletes practice sports. Though use is still regulated and the police are not equipped to negate and contain offenders.

The only downside is that normal humans without Heirogamy are becoming second class citizens. They are ostracism and shunned. Some people hunt them down like animals, though the practice is highly illegal.

Kristobal's past has changed a bit. 20th this new reality rewriting itself into him, he knows he could not wander alone forever. The government officials caught him in 2003 and made a deal with him. Under authorization from a high ranking official Thomas, leader of Malleus tech division, he was given a card that works like CIA. However, now that he has authority over local law enforcement, Malleus has instructed him to be more lenient with murder. Thomas assured him that he does not work for Malleus per request, but Malleus helps contract his authorization of power. The get him clearance and he does them favors.

Kristobal also knows that 9/11 never happened here. Without the struggle Cold War Afghanistan never became America's patsy against Russia, the middle east never destabilized, and Islamic Extremism went out with a wimper. A new terrorism has arisen, however, one where people want to erase reality and make everything Limbo. These pro Limbo extremists fight to destabilize reality.

And Kristobal both remembers what he was doing and this new version of his timeline. Both memories exist at the same time. He knows he was at the Biggles station to await the God's and find Ark. Only now he's at Blueberry's radio station where she is helping him with information about another terrorist cell called Ark that just crashed an airplane.

The leader of Portland, Jayquon the Kind, cleaned up the plan crash and removed the threat. Instead of an Apocalypse, it was a street fight that ended quickly. In the previous reality Ark stood strong against weak humanity. In this new reality, under a strengthened world of Heirogamy, they were no match.

Give Kudos: 
0
Average: 5 (1 vote)
DarkMoonINC's picture

Jayquon wakes up in his luxurious bed. Fancy silk sheets. Fine graffiti framed on the wall. Streets is already making breakfast.

Jay remembers who he use to be. But this new reality shifted by changes in time, is a world where he cleaned up Portland and became their King of sorts. Grim never existed here, when she was sacked outside of reality and time changed and rest the world, she wasn't in reality to be changed. She just no longer exists. Instead, after cleaning the city of corruption a few years ago with Streets by his side, Jayquon was contacted by Tenth House Council, the group that rules the world's spirit energy, he was assigned as the local leader of Oregon.

A thousand sspirit roaming the streets come to him for oorders. The seven active organizations come to him with problems or requests. He doesn't do it for them, Jayquon simply delegates who will solve the problem. His like a mafia Don now. They kiss his ring metaphorically and ask permission. If they go against his will, the government or the Tenth House moves in and cleans up.

Jayquon was placed in this position to keep life happy and clean, because he is very good at rooting out corruption and removing it.

He knows the isolate operator Kristobal is doing an investigation into his city. The recent plane crash was a problem, though the monster and soldiers were cleaned uup in a day. And there is a pack of vampires roaming Portland and killing non-Heirogamy humans when they find them.

Jayquon knows all of this and all of his memories trying to protect Talitha. Then he realizes that Acellatrix captured several soldiers, holding them in a local spirit prison where Talitha is being interrogated.

Give Kudos: 
0
Average: 5 (1 vote)
Forge's picture

Kristobal

Combat: 
EY, NY, EY
Magic: 
NYA , EY
Influence: 
HYA
Else: 
N, --

"Vood evening [he nods politely to the cashier behind the counter, in his thick german accent. He has a deep voice, and the helmet makes it sound a little distorted] Just zis news-paper, please [he says, laying the Portland Tribune on the counter and a few dollars and coins]. Zank you."

The moment feels familiar, but then again, every moment does. He has heard it called "Deja Vu" sometimes -but that's not for him. That's for normal people; people whose heads are working correctly, people who aren't full of jumbled memories -dreams and nightmares of things that passed and things that may have passed and things that could still, he fears, come to pass -and he can never tell which is which. But that is okay. Truly. {'Take therefore no thought for the morrow:' said the Lord, and Kristobal follows this verse to heart more than any other 'for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.'}

Some nights he parks his motorcycle in the middle of nowhere between one city and the next, usually for the time it takes the local Guardians of Order and Accelletrix to reimpose some semblance of peace after the justice he dispenses, usually violently. He lets the trails grow cold for a while, away from the road, in some quiet field, he just... stands there. By the side of his bike, he just looks up at the stars above... for hours. All night, as names and scenes flash and blur and mix in his mind. Talitha. A pretty face... she had a rifle. Was she a soldier in WWII? He remembers some sort of dark uniform she was wearing. Maybe she was. She was the daughter of someone in the French resistance, he thinks... she had an accent. And who was Blueberry? She was a kind and gentle soul, he knows that much. Wise too. She had a pet bear, he thinks. A friend... Benson! Benson was his friend, he knows this. A knight like him, he's sure. Memories of a forest, crossing swords, blood gurgling out of someone's neck. Must have been an Adversary. Yes, Benson and Kristobal were brother in arms and the two of them defeated many monsters together. Or maybe he never existed. That's always possible: some of his memories are so outlandish that he's convinced they simply could not have happened. Monsters which open new mouths in every wound inflicted... planes falling out of the sky and releasing horrible mutant creatures, buildings sinking whole into hell -an entire family nesting inside one another like russian dolls and then turning into pigs! Piles of men and women sleeping nude together under a ceiling of flowing water and plants... then fire. So much he doesn't understand.

Then sunrise comes -it always does, and it's time to climb back on his motorcycle. He wonders if this is what dreaming is like for living men? Maybe. One scene above all haunts him the most: what he calls The Beacon and the Storm. A tower... a tower in the middle of a grey-silver valley patterned with crosses by the side of a river... and a bright light shining on top. In his dream he is standing alone atop this tower, only his sword in his hand facing the horizon where rolling clouds of storm and thunder stride towards him. The Eight Gods, he knows this, which he must face alone.

But it's just a dream... like everything else. And that is okay. He is at peace with his own weakness, with his own troubled mindscape -no one else could know. He thinks he was a guard at some point in his life. Some temple in some forest... many suns and many moons rose and sunk before his eyes without him moving an inch. He thinks he had a different kind of helmet, then. Metal. He was at peace. It was home.

How did he lose it all? He can't remember. Something happened in World War II. Something involving the Adversaries -those poor mad souls that seem made out of pure chaos and grief. He wonders if they're the only ones who could possibly understand the puzzle he carries in his mind? He's never asked though; the few times he's crossed paths with them it has been for the unyielding purpose of snuffing their lives out with extreme prejudice. He remembers a man named Thomas. He was with the Church... and he offered him some sort of command at some point. Years ago. Some sort of card that would authorize his actions, if he only were to temper them. He didn't take the deal.

He travels alone, and alone is how he travels. He responds to no authority in Heaven, Hell, Earth nor anywhere in between. Kristobal answers to no man and no god but the Lord himself whom he alone knows inside his heart. The church left Him. Sometimes he feels only him knows the true Lord anymore. Sometimes he glimpses a funeral... the name Jupiter... sometimes it's enough.

Kristobal takes the newspaper, and walks outside to his motorcycle waiting by the gas pump. He used the last of his 20 dollar bills to buy gas. Newspapers are always good for information. Crimes, corruption, injustice. He has heard many things about Portland, and about this man -"Jayquon the Kind" is apparently what he is called- and now he comes to see for himself whether or not there's trouble in paradise. The plane crash felt so sickeningly familiar, after all. The newspaper will show him a clue. It always does. He reads it slowly and patiently.

Give Kudos: 
0
No kudos given yet

-=[Live Forever]=-

DarkMoonINC's picture

Jackie is still at the restaurant. Stevie is here to help check data on a phone. But everything else has changed. He remembers how spirits came to be a daily part 9 life. How the government cracked down on travel in the Shadowside, and how people use Jackie's free lance services to speak with the dead when they can't travel there.

But Grim never existed here. His bottles are all fine. His body is as shitty as it was before the apocalypse in the previous timeline. Except this cell phone. The device makes no sense here because Cuddy never should have existed here. Yet in this reality the cell phone appeared in his pocket out of no where. Only he remembers both realities so he knows it's still Cuddy's. Which means Cuddy is somewhere here.

If anything has changed, its that Jackie has a much better bank account these days. Also that many souls are still here, Marty and Sales and the twins are somehow restored as if what Grim did to them left them in a state that when reality was rewritten by time changing, they are still here with him.

The other organizations operate in a more obvious fashion. Acellatrix is a government contracted worldwide organization. Malleus operates out of heavily Catholic cities. Somosa is a relief organization that helps the poor. They compete still but instead of hot wars in the shadows it's corporate wars in by paperwork and street operations.

This cell phone shouldn't even fucking exist yet it does and he can already sense it's an anomaly. Which is bad. Acellatrix tracks and confiscates anomalies.

Give Kudos: 
0
Average: 5 (1 vote)
Yuanakil's picture

Jayquon

Combat: 
EYA
Magic: 
HYB, NYA, NYB
Influence: 
NYB
Else: 
HYA, NYB, --

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=71McnVwWPwU)

{You will never know what you could ever be}

Jay nods to Streets as she pokes in to check on him, closing his eyes to concentrate on the idea of a radio tower, trying to draw them out toward where one might be.

{If you never try, you will never see}

Chrys adjusts his glasses, pushing them back up onto the bridge of his nose, and opens his eyes to survey his surroundings. He pictures the manner in which he would frame them and mentally categorizes the resulting image for later replication on canvas.

{Stayed in Africa, we ain't ever leave}

Jayquon closes his eyes again. Something feels strange; his mind is split again, but not like with Hope. No, this is... something different--worse.

{So there were no slaves in our history}

Jayquon Chrysolophus Hernandez reopens his eyes, mind reeling in horror. He doesn't quite understand the concept--slaves--like the disadvantaged white minorities, except... somehow worse. His every decent fiber recoils from the notion.

{Were no slave ships, were no misery}

Jay's mind reels in turn. He has no referent for the brave new world he has suddenly been thrust into, nor for the life of privelege led by... himself?

{Call me crazy, or isn't he?}

Chrys realizes that he... Jayquon... is supposed to be doing something very important right now related to the Shadowside. But why is that? Hasn't Accel got everything under control, as per usual? But then... his great lady of love and beauty, Mother Water, seems as much changed as Chrys himself.

{See, I fell asleep, and I had a dream}

Jay can't focus. He looks around at all of the artwork--his artwork--having mysteriously replaced all of the allies just about to set out on their respective tasks, and asks, "Ladies, gentlemen--would someone please kindlyyyyyyyyyyyy 'splain to me what the fuck's goin' on?" Then he covers his mouth, eyes wide. When he removes his hand, he says, "Streets? Uh. Mother Water? Are you there? Is... um..." A pause. "Yo. I think I need you to call that sword dude... Kristobal up."

{It was all black everything}

(He's referring to Mami Wata.)

Give Kudos: 
0
Average: 5 (1 vote)
silverdrake3's picture

June Pawlitzki (aka: Junebug)

Combat: 
EY, HYA
Magic: 
NA
Influence: 
-- , --
Else: 
--, NB, NB

At first, she isn't sure what to think. She feels divided, pretty much literally, between the two timelines. Her first instinct is to get up, go about her day, make a few phone calls to check in on her fleet. There was that big contract she's trying to land, some big shot who needed to ship produce from California to their factories in Colorado and Wyoming, as many as ten trucks every day.

But then the beast simmers within her. What the fuck happened? This feeling, this happiness and belonging, is alien. It came almost too easily. Did she deserve it? Of course, she thinks for a moment, she's been working her ass off to build this company from the ground up. She deserves every bit of it.

A sick feeling worms its way through her gut. Something wasn't right. Guilt? Where the fuck was that coming from? She looks around, brow furrowed, a little lost in her own memories as she tries to sort out the "new" June from the "old" June.

Suddenly her phone goes off, beeping insistently in her pocket. Without thinking she pulls it out and glances down. An email to her personal, unlisted account.

"W3 Kn0W wH47 U d1D. W3 h4V H3r. 1m $$$ bY 2M0r0W 0r Sh3 D135."

"The fuck...?" she whispers, then a cold feeling of dread hits her. Her eyes reflexively shoot up to the mantle, where a photo of a beautiful blonde laughing as she reaches for the camera, which is tilted ever so slightly to the right. A familiar photo. Her fiancée, Ellen, when they took that cruise last summer, shortly after June popped the question. Although her hand is blurry, the glint of a diamond ring is unmistakable.

"Shit..."

Give Kudos: 
0
Average: 5 (1 vote)
DarkMoonINC's picture

It's a different world. But human nature and tragedy still exist. Releasing the boundaries of spirit didn't make the world a Utopia. Just different.

People have to study hard to pass the SPECTRE, a rigorous test of knowledge and ability which allows them to go after Heirogamy. Most adults have their SPECTRE license. Harder to get is the Traveler's license which allows people to freely access the Tempore. The Traveler's pass also comes in grades, allowing access to specific depths. Eighty percent of humans are in Heirogamy and only thirty percent of the population travels into the Tempore.

Legally, that is.

It turns out very hard to enforce what anyone does inside the Tempore. The government has radar like devices across the US to detect entrance and exit through the Tempore. They can rush in and stop unauthorized travelers most of the time. But once people get a Traveler's pass, Accellatrix has little it can do to keep them from going anywhere.

In retrospect the entire thing is a nightmare for law makers. How can one hope to regulate an uncontrollable thing?

Without the Cold War, both the Middle East remained stabilized and both world powers regulated their economies. There was never a rise in extremist Islam, the world focused on alternate energy sources, and the economy is finally doing better than ever. Things like Occupy Wall Street and the Tea Party never became a response since the issue was no longer a government and economic one.

But there's always corruption. Now it's focused and isolated on certain individuals who let the power go to their head. And people who believe Heirogamy places them above the law. So while the landscape might seem to be a much better change from the world everyone remembered, which for most people it is, the world is still as dangerous and cruel.

And now there are other problems.

Going public with everything meant a lot of changes. Humanity adjusting to a world where the Tempore was real, where magicians and cults had ruled the world. Where secrets were exposed. It's a lot to digest.

There's a new form of torture and murder. Accellatrix has developed a way to separate a Host from Heirogamy spirit and allow the human to live - the spirit is ground to dust. This is the most painful, traumatic experience possible. Those in Heirogamy without a SPECTRE license are subject to this punishment. Less scrupled people use this technique to torture people without removing their spirit entirely. The mafia and yakuza are both infamous for this practice.

And further, everyone who was alive and in Heirogamy when the time ripples came still remembers the old reality. Even some anomalies like Jackie and Kristobal still remember. It's causing a lot of headaches. They know that things would have got far worse for the world if magic was sealed away. Now the spirit runs through everything, and Capitalism is treating it like another resource.

Give Kudos: 
0
Average: 5 (1 vote)
DarkMoonINC's picture

Kristobal remembers how happy Thomas was to offer the deal. And how sunken his face was when he refused. Thomas had told him he remembered, that phrase would always stick with him. Kristobal knew others remembered the old reality. But the offer for freedom was always on the table. And even when he got caught doing unauthorized activities by the Guardians of Order, Thomas would come down and get him excused. Like a parent over a troublesome kid who keeps skipping class.

Not much different than the way things were in his old life, only now he has a Guardian who looks after him. He had that a few times in his old memories, but they are so soft and mortal and live only so many years.

The newspaper is the same as it always is. The stories now are the same, only details change. A group of missing kids recovered by Tempore explorers in the depths of Limbo. A werewolf goes on the record about performing on Broadway despite his Lycanthropic curse. Local Mayors in armed standoffs against the Sisterhood to remove illegal Dryad tree spirits from government land. A local woman wins the Chili Cook Off with Demon Peppers. The world is the same as it always was, no matter how you change the climate.

It's the plane crash which becomes the focus of his world.

Some local environmentalists thought they were protesting technology by placing a bomb in a plane that would "force evolve everyone on board". The journalist goes into detail about how the bomb mutated a man's DNA and turned him into an enraged monster of flesh and limbs. How his body reverberated a tone that killed spirits around it. The plane crash killed everyone on board but the monster and three civilians with SPECTRE licenses. The monster drained their Heirogamy and killed them all. It went out to attack people on the street when Special Forces showed up and destroyed it.

They located several soldiers who were monitoring the scene, and were able to take three of them alive. The other three were killed in the gun fight. Kristobal sees a photo that shakes his very foundation. It's Talitha. He knows her. She still has a mark on her face from where his glove touched her. How is that possible?

The article ends with a piece on how she has an unregistered Heirogamy and is being interrogated in a cell downtown.

Give Kudos: 
0
Average: 5 (1 vote)
DarkMoonINC's picture

Jay is facing a million roads. He can feel they are all true, by choice, but his hand will direct the next road to travel.

All the slaves that survived the tragedies of Divine Providence and Manifest Destiny are still here in Portland. But where they were hiding in fear and anger under the skirt of mother Grim from society, now they stand proud and walk with heads high in the free lands of Jayquon.

Steets hand is warm, she's pulling him through a mirror in his home. And soon they are crossing a dusty abandoned street in the Shadowside. The place the government refers to as the Tempore. Jayquon is weary here, though Streets gets him through quick and into reality where a real radio station still stands. It's not Biggle's anymore, it's Blueberry's.

Jayquon knows that in the old reality the Vault sealed away magic and Shadowside travel was a very banal, dead experience. The world's soul was dying, the Shadowside was unthreatening and very pale. But now, it's stronger than it's ever been. Now the Shadowside is dangerous.

The reason the government requires licenses to enter the Tempore is because it's very unpredictable and dangerous. Travel through is not fast and never safe. The Shadowside now is teeming with powerful things, some of them sentient, and a simple trip across the street can turn into a three month journey.

But Streets gets him through safely. They pass under some monstrous crab that is attacking giant buildings made of wax, through a clothing store where the mannequins scream and bleed as the clothes crawl upon them and strangle the life away. Some of the clothes try to grapple Jayquon and squeeze the life from him but he gets through unscathed. As they exit the back of the building they are passing sandworm territory, whether it's inspired by Dune or Beetlejuice he's not sure.

Then after all that they are at a radio station.

And he knows his power limits. He can still paint and change things. But Grim had tricked him by allowing him to feel godlike, changing all of Portland, allowing him the deception of unlimited power so he would feel safe, like he'd won, as he stormed her tower. But Grim had been allowing it, she could have overpowered him at any time. And to get him to bond with her, she let him win. The taste of unlimited power is still on his tongue and here he knows Streets allows him a decent amount of control and power.

But the Shadowside is alive and reflexive now. It shudders and breaths around him like a scared animal. He can tell how the Shadowside use to feel sedated, like it was in a coma. But here it's awake. And it's a difficult beast to tame. Not to speak of others in Heirogamy who can fight fire with fire. He suddenly remembers that old Sword in the Stone Disney cartoon, where the two wizards duel with magic.

And here Jay is, trying to lead and control the Portland area to keep it clean and happy. So much responsibility on his shoulders. Above the building, above the radio antenna, he can see Mami Wata. Her wide black hair, a snake around her shoulders. He can't tell if it's a real her, or his imagination, but when he walks into the Shadowside she ends up watching him from above.

Streets turns to him. "You instructed me to take you to a radio station, right?" she looks around confused. "We- Kristobal. Yes. That man. He's here. Everything's changed but he's still here somewhere in town. We can find him if you want." she blinks, feeling his confusion, reveling in it. "Oh baby, it's ok. We'll be fine. Where would you like to go?"

Give Kudos: 
0
Average: 5 (1 vote)
DarkMoonINC's picture

"Sort, my fault." Wallace says from aside her. Here, he's different. He's wearing a tight turtleneck, a clenched jeans. His hair is a Michael Kelso haircut. His hands move with a flexed arm, a bent wrist. Of all the spirit companions, in this reality she's got a bondage fairy. He sashays next to her, then laughs. "Reality was reconstructing itself, folding the pieces back in together. And it had us meet right after high school. But I remembered the other place we use to exist. So I helped guide you to riches and power. Not to make your responsible, not to tie you down- though in retrospect I am into tying down- but to free you to live how you want. Money buys freedom, sad but true."

He watches her up and down. "No worries, hon. The company runs itself. Your mother's still- well she didn't change. But we did. We're proud now, better. Free." he claps his hands together. "We worked hard for it, but that's in the last several years. We're here now. Reaping the end results."

He goes silent when he hears the phone.

The memory returns to her. From this new life. Her mother was dead. Everything was the same. Only- when the investigation finished, the police revealed to June that someone made her mother jump. Someone sent her mother a note instructing her to kill herself, or June would be killed. The police never found the suspect and the case went cold. Her note had been similar. "I know what you've done." Her mother faced a similar threat.

Somehow the bittersweet memory doesn't feel any better than what she use to have in her life. Here, she knows now her mother was facing depression and denial, a homophobia brought by her own inner turmoil.

Is this the same enemy? Or is this someone new? Ellen is out there. And what is it they know? Do they know about her actions in this reality? Or is it someone who remembers the other reality before time changed? Where is she to go? What to do? Should she tell anyone? It's not money, despite the ransom. It's something else. And will they know if she contacts the authorities? What is this really about?

"Janice and Dana will keep the company running without us. Just call in. We have important things to detail." Wallace swings his hips over to the phone and gestures at it, unable to effect reality since he's a mental projection from the voice inside her head.

Dana and Janice. She was pioneering one of the most openly LGBT trucking lines. And who would have though how many Gay and Lesbian truck drivers there actually were. They flocked to her, worked almost for free at first. Glad for once to work in a company where they were not only unjudged, but celebrated. A company that acted as a shelter in the storm for the gay community. So many rainbow flags on trucks, divers happy to work for a business that didn't condone or judge. LGBT clients flooded in with requests. Social communities put a lot of support behind them. They do charity events and run Christmas toys for LGBT children every year. It's like it's own culture developing, all out of her ability to send cargo across the US under a rainbow flag.

No wonder the business took off so well. And this was guided by Wallace's hand. She'd been resistant. June didn't want to be responsible, or be in the spotlight, or deal with being tied down. So most of it was done by her right and left hand people. Dana and Janice now, though there'd been others before them. People who ran the company under her charter, who kept her vision alive. Or was it Wallace's vision?

Either way the clock was counting. Ellen was in trouble and one million dollars wasn't easy to cash out on short notice. She knew that she faced two possible paths. Doing it the legal way and facing scrutiny from law enforcement, or doing it the dirty way, perhaps with Thomas's help, and facing a different scrutiny from both criminal enterprises and law enforcement.

"We know what you did."

Give Kudos: 
0
Average: 5 (1 vote)
Forge's picture

Kristobal

Combat: 
EY, NY, EY
Magic: 
NYA , EY
Influence: 
HYA
Else: 
N, --

He has seen her face before.... he is sure of it...

{Talitha}...

It doesn't seem likely for her to be the daughter of that frenchman after all, that man who was good with explosives so many years ago. She would be very old by now if that was the case... but she looks young. Like a child... {Talitha...} he knows, means "child" in Aramaic. Did he give her that name?

That smudge on the camo paint on her cheek... is it camo paint? Some sort of tribal design? There's something... something important that he should remember about it -he can feel it like a small thread hanging just out of reach -just out of reach of his fingers and if only-if only he could grasp it and have the entire veil come undone..! .. . .

Standing perfectly motionless with the newspaper in his hands the old biker struggles to turn the gears inside his mind. He knows the Lord sent him here to adjudicate the plane crash somehow, and he knows that recognizing a face out of his dreams is the greatest of Signs, and for this he's grateful. {God Almighty, what am I forgetting about her?} Various scenes flash into his mind... here she's driving a vehicle... there's she's gathering guns -look at her smile! wait... no... now... now she's crying? Who made her cry? He can see her bursting into tears and turning her back to him and running away towards the hills. Chase her! But he can't chase her; it's a memory. It is what it was. What it had to be. He feels something grow within him, as his fist slowly closes. He would kill whoever made her cry. He would snuff the life out of him, he would-

No. The fist unclenches. He must be sparse with the killings. That man said so.. that... was his name Thomas? He seemed so familiar too... and how he kept saying that he "remembered"?. Remembered what -what did he mean by that? Well, it's certainly good for a man of flesh to remember, but such luxuries have never been for Kristobal; never for one who walks the earth with memories swirling about him like leaves falling in Autumn, faded and dying, while he can only rescue so many in his hands from the encroaching darkness. He fights! He fights against the dark, he pushes off it's shroud like a straight jacket inside his head, but no one knows. No one can know. To the eyes of anyone observing he is just a tall biker who has spent several minutes staring at a newspaper, and who now is gently rolling his motorcycle to some dark alley behind the gas station, then looking up.

There's a red moon in the sky. He stares. What did he have to remember?!

Uncharacteristically he reaches with his hand towards that big red moon. Only the wind replies, softly in this dark alley. But he sees his hand there against the light, a hand that has snuffed so many, a strong tool, cruel both at what it has done and what it cannot do. And suddenly, without thinking... he takes off his leather glove. It is there, the stain. On the rough cloth over his index finger: the smudge of paint he took from the face paint of Talitha once, in a world of dreams.

He caresses the substance between his index and thumb. He turns to the large trash container in the alley behind him -it's huge and the lid is closed. Reverently he draws a cross on it with the paint from his finger, then puts his glove back on.

It's fine for a man to walk the Path of Faith alone, yes, even for a long time. But the Lord knows sometimes it has to be okay to ask.

He opens the lid towards Limbo -towards the owner of the face paint he drew the cross with, in Limbo. He opens a portal towards Talitha.

Give Kudos: 
0
No kudos given yet

-=[Live Forever]=-

silverdrake3's picture

June Pawlitzki (aka: Junebug)

Combat: 
EY, HYA
Magic: 
NA
Influence: 
-- , --
Else: 
--, NB, NB

It took only a moment of hard contemplation.

Without a word June glances down at her phone again. A few taps, and she puts it to her ear.

"Dana," her voice is tense, "I'm going on leave. ... Yes, again. ... No, just some personal business, can't explain now. ... That can wait 'til I get back. You just keep 'em rolling for me. ... Bye, Dana."

As soon as the call ends she turns to Wallace with a wild fury in her eyes. Not at him, although to the uninitiated it might seem that way. He's bound to be used to it by now.

"I know we've encountered these asses before. Can't be a coincidence. They don't want the goddamn money, they want something else."

She strides toward the bedroom, muttering to herself the entire way. "I don't want the 'trix breathing down my neck, but a permit would take too goddamn long. If these folks claim to know what I did-- and what the hell do they mean by that, anyway?-- they probably got ears in the system.

"Even if we didn't care about settin' 'em off, the 'trix would probably give me some bureaucratic bullshit to chew on for a month before they give me a writ. Never mind the fact that I'm probably the reason they got founded in the first place!"

She paused for a moment, huffed, then threw open the closet doors, pulling out a work shirt and denim jacket, pants, stuff like that. She didn't wear that kind of thing often nowadays, she had enough money to look like a princess if she really felt like it. Still, there was something about flannel that gave her focus, something to remind her to keep her eyes on the road.

"Goddamnit, I'm ever goin' time traveling again. Fuck that shit." She shook her head again, then set about the task of switching outfits. "So talk, Wallace. You got any brilliant ideas? Way I see it, I could either look up that ol' bastard Tom, or I could risk bribing a 'trix to get me a permit AS-fuckin-AP." She didn't like either option, really, but no way in hell was she going to let the kidnappers take her fiancée without a fight.

Give Kudos: 
0
No kudos given yet
MrSmug's picture

Giacomo 'Jackie' Notelli

Combat: 
-- , --
Magic: 
EYB
Influence: 
HYB, --, NY
Else: 
HYB, --

(Hey guys, I recently left my job and am dealing with a cross-country move. I think at this point I'd like to politely bow out of the story. Cheers and thanks for the run.)

Give Kudos: 
0
No kudos given yet
DarkMoonINC's picture

Limbo is like a monster here. It's a flow of such intense energy. Kristobal can remember it now, this feeling of energy around him. Before the Vault, before everything was sealed away, before the spirit realms seemed coma-sedated. When Limbo was alive and kicking. When it was dangerous.

It's dangerous. Not that that matters to him.

He's stepping into a greenhouse that seems to go on for miles in all directions. The plants around him grow behind glass, the current walkway is a large glass hallway that leads towards an Atrium. Everything's white and frosty. There in the atrium the plants are on this side of the glass, a forest of them.

The place is ice cold. Gusts of mist wrap around like tendrils. This is the path to Talitha.

Ahead, in the atrium, the trees and plants seem to move slowly, of their own power. As well, there's the sound of a music box deep within. Distant, faint, but the unmistakable ring of a tiny plastic ballerina on a mirror rings somewhere in the massive winter greenhouse.

(In 2 posts the authorities will find out where Kristobal has entered the Shadowside.)

Give Kudos: 
0
No kudos given yet
DarkMoonINC's picture

"Well, anyone can use this garbled internet English." Wallace slowly looks down, squatting on the floor and holding his knees. "I'm not sure of what enemies we've currently got against us."

Outside the city is alive with movement. Something else is going down in Portland, probably the aftermath of the planecrash. The air is hot and sticky, the wind isn't helping. Where is that rain everyone hates when you need it?

"Accellatrix gives everyone bullshit. So we're not even special with that." he laughs, spinning a tiny metal top on the floor. His eyes are blindgfolded, instead... he listens to it spin. Hears the resonance. "I think the man you talked to at that meeting may still be alive. You can always ask him to cut you a deal." he grabs the top, standing up. "Thomas, however, I think he knows. He remembers us. I don't know how I know that but... I am not sure if that makes him our best friend right now or a terrible enemy."

"But you're Junebug. You'd just charge in and kick ass, doing what you need to, without asking anyone. At least, that was you." he grins slyly. "Who are you now, June? Who is it you've decided to become?"

He shakes his head, nodding to the door. "Ellen's life is waiting in our slippery hands."

And June is alone in her apartment. She knows that here, in reality, Wallace is only a powerful hallucination, like a strong case of schizophrenia. The air conditioner is fighting hard to deal with the heat. Heat in April in this city is so bizarre. June can feel the hairs on her spine raise, her heart all aflutter.

Give Kudos: 
0
No kudos given yet
DarkMoonINC's picture

(Hey MrSmug. We love and appreciate everything you've given us thus far. Jackie will be left on hold, in a narrative cryochamber, much like Trapturtle's Janna, until you return. You are welcome back ANY time.)

Give Kudos: 
0
No kudos given yet
Forge's picture

Kristobal

Combat: 
EY, NY, EY
Magic: 
NYA , EY
Influence: 
HYA
Else: 
N, --

Reality is always better for Kristobal than Limbo, but only slightly -only in the sense that his runaway mind doesn't have consequences for others, and if he keeps quiet and immobile life goes on. Not here. He looks around at the green life behind the glass, and wonders what exactly is the symbolism.

Everything in Limbo is a symbol. The tiny ballerina -Talitha? Plastic, for some reason. To represent what? That she is... unauthentic somehow? A faint memory floats softly in Kristobal's mind... the word "clone" echoes somewhere, but the old biker pays little attention. She waits in the center of the Atrium, perhaps. Life -or at least plants full of life- swirl behind the glass walls and await. He remembers some strange dreams where Limbo was not full of life, but a barren desert. The entire landscape was like glass, not just this hallway. And the Cross of Lorraine covered it all.

He strides forward. He never strikes first, not without giving the opponent at least one chance to define his own inequity -and this goes for the Guardians of Order as well as Limbo. The portal behind the Portland Gas Station will remain open for 2 minutes, perhaps. Kristobal knows it won't be enough to get Talitha and return. But that is fine -it is the challenge the Lord has set before him, and he gratefully takes it within him.

"Talitha!" he calls, his voice loud through the greenhouse. "Vhere are you?"

He searches for her.

(Jackie and Jana: it's been an honor sharing your stuff -amazing stories happened through you, and I can't wait until you return.)

Give Kudos: 
0
No kudos given yet

-=[Live Forever]=-

Yuanakil's picture

Jayquon

Combat: 
EYA
Magic: 
HYB, NYA, NYB
Influence: 
NYB
Else: 
HYA, NYB, --

"I'd like to go... uh... I would like to see somebody with whom I am more familiar," Jayquon says, the words rolling awkwardly across his tongue, both well used to them and finding them utterly foreign. He shakes his head and brings the heels of his palms up to quiet it, still reeling from the nauseating transition between worlds. "Something about... Kristobal. And a radio station. I... need to save the world?"

He looks around at a land apparently no longer on the brink of destruction, and he asks, "Streets... does the world still need saving? Am I... done?" He looks down at his hands. "Something tells me I ain't done. Don't feel like it, y'know?"

Shaking his head, Jay clears his throat and asks her, "Can you take me to somebody from... before? Do you know what I mean? Maybe somebody else'd know what to do."

Give Kudos: 
0
No kudos given yet
DarkMoonINC's picture

As Kristobal moves through the ice-greenhouse, he sees a large glass encasement where a tree has Talitha wrapped in it's branches and vines. The enclosure opens to a door, but when Kristobal looks inside he realizes it's not her.

The Talitha wriggling in the tree is made of wood and as he sees the details, realizes it's a decoy, the tree stabs his shoulders with vines. If he were any other man, the vicious green ichor poison leaking from the vines would probably have him curled on the floor in death throes.

But he is Kristobal and all it does is puncture a hole in his clothing. The tree retracts, it's vines expect to strike once and then let the victim die. The wooden Talitha goes still and the vines wrap around it. Is it waiting for the next person? It seems to be waiting.

Kristobal finds nothing more and finds himself moving further into the labyrinthe of icy glass. He passes several chambers with wooden decoys, each one writhes and cries like Talitha but stops when he walks past.

He notices it. Something else is following him. When he walks, he sees it through the frosted glass. It's large and it's far away. Far enough for him to barely make an outline, through several layers of glass walls. But it matches his pace, parallel to his progress.

Then he reaches the inner chambers.

The round amphitheater-like area has crisp carpeting and only a few potted ferns. In the middle is a door, standing alone, metal, locked. Through the bars he can see a cell where Talitha waits. Walking around the door, the other side is exactly the same as the front, as if the door leads out of Limbo or to another dream.

Around him he hears hundreds of plants twitch their branches and leaves. A voice calls out, deep and feminine. It stirs memories in his head. Winters... Winters.

"What, pray tell, are YOU doing here?" the voice asks.

The Realtor, the woman with the small child, of Thelema stock, whom spent much of her time arranging deals and never getting her hands dirty. But that was a memory of a world that no longer exists.

Who knows what this version of her is like.

Give Kudos: 
0
No kudos given yet
DarkMoonINC's picture

Streets laughs. It cracks the air like a whip, it's innocent and yet not naive. Like a child who has seen some shit in life.

"The world always needs saving. There's always someone who thinks it'd be better off worse."

She looks around, thinking. "You turned- well, in this version of reality we turned- this whole place around. Portland is safer, happier, and more full of joy than the version you were struggling to save before."

Streets closes her eyes, moving to him, taking his hands in hers. "I'll take you anywhere I can."

Blueberry appears at the door, eying him.

"You didn't change much, did you hon?" she smiles. "Your position in life, sure. But the change didn't effect your heart. Did it?" she moves forward and hugs them both. "Come in. Let's talk. Someone changed things. We're still in the glow of the climax. However, I can feel the old world dissolving. Soon, we won't even remember there was another version of this all. This will become the only version real to us."

Inside, much of the place is preserved in Biggle's memory. Pictures of him adorn the wall, though it indicates he died years ago. She has an urn on the mantel where his ashes rest. Of course, it's been touched by a woman. Curtains, doilies, other ends and odds. But she's preserved his legacy.

"I feel like you need to understand who you are, what your goal is. Why you want to do this, what your purpose is. Perhaps, we can figure that out together. And direct you to where you should be going." Blueberry nods slowly and then pulls up a chair. "Breakfast? You look famished."

Streets looks around, then suddenly turns to him. "Oh. Yes. I forgot. I saved you a present, Jay. Baby." with this she steps outside. A few moments later she walks back in, and behind her the Italian twins step inside. Streets has a shit eating grin on her face. One of the twins looks confused, the other twin is blushing so hard she is beet red.

Give Kudos: 
0
No kudos given yet
silverdrake3's picture

Refreshing influence.
Rolled 1d12. Result: 11 = 11.

June Pawlitzki (aka: Junebug)

Combat: 
EY, HYA
Magic: 
NA
Influence: 
-- , --
Else: 
--, NB, NB

She gritted her teeth, turned away from the spot where he'd been "standing." "I'm depending way too much on you," she muttered darkly.

The bedroom door slammed on her way back through the condo. The spare bedroom she'd turned into a computer room. Nothing spectacular, one rack with four servers she used to run her "pet" projects. Three of them were quiet, one was doing some sort of traffic analysis. She sat at the desk beside it, reached under and flipped a switch.

Her oldest purred like a kitten as it awoke. With a few keystrokes she was booting into her CryptOS. It was just as she remembered it, and yet not. Subtle differences, a few programs designed partly by the fallen programmers who obsessed over their own code in the hereafter.

She started a backtrace on the email address. It was one of those spaghetti soup emails, intended to be discarded, but maybe if she acted now traces of its origin would remain on the network. Maybe she could simply avoid going into the Shadowside altogether.

While her program was running in the background, she started looking up the people most likely to help her. She looked up Anton first, then the other names she heard at that council meeting. If nothing came up, well, that sucked. She really didn't want to look for Jacques, even though he'd seemed to put a particular interest in her. That creep, asking about her private memories... her knuckles itched. She'd rather go to Tom first, but she looked for them all.

A bitter thought wandered through as she was doing this. Why go after the girl? Did she really have any attachment? Their relationship had been rocky at best. The only thing that made Ellen different is that she kept coming back. Like a dog who doesn't understand why her master yells at her, she would dash away and wait until June cooled, only to return for the coos and apology sex.

June was so used to sharing her thoughts, at least with the one who lived in her head, she could tolerate the questions, the wide-eyed pleas to understand what it was that made June hate to love. They'd broken up several times, or at least June had, but somehow they always ended up back together. The girl was too optimistic, she thought, too innocent, too perfect.

She couldn't bear the thought of leaving her to suffer.

ding

She blinked away the clouds and turned back to the screen. If any of the council still lived, they had to have lives. Addresses. Phone numbers. She leaned in to the screen to scan through her results.

(Is my HY "Else" appropriate for this case?)

Give Kudos: 
0
No kudos given yet

Pages

Use of this site implies agreement with the Terms of Use. This is our Privacy Policy. Questions? Contact me.
© Marco Leon 2012 Drupal Theme based on "Decayed" by moldham.