4810/It Came from the Pond

It Came from the Pond
Date of Scene:	24 November 2016
Location:	Boston-666
Synopsis:
Cast of Characters:	Wo, Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped)

---

Wo has posed:
At long last, seasonal weather patterns have begun to prevail across a particular Boston. That means that fewer people are out and about in the early evening, much less in a park where there are fewer sheltered spots to duck into, should the chill become overwhelming. There are still a few dedicated joggers, though, passing by under the sparse street lamps, bundled up in sport sweats and insulated against the cold. Overall, it's fairly serene, until it is suddenly punctuated by a yelp of surprise from one of those same fitness junkies. It came from next to one of the municipal ponds, where a lane runs right next to the water's lip.

    Though it may have sounded alarming, it turns out to not be a significant emergency. It was more of a sudden startle, as the residents of this Boston are used to unusual sights. In this case, they had stumbled across a strange creature that is swimming around the pond. In the fading light of dusk, it's hard to make out details; a sleek, aerodynamic shape can be vaguely guessed from errant lamp light, as well as two glowing 'eyes' which function almost like dim headlights. Regardless, it doesn't seem to be attacking anyone. If anything, from the splashing and rolling in the water, it seems to be playing, not unlike a whale or dolphin.

    A few other runners and joggers, that had stopped initially to check on the welfare of the original observant, stay now to watch the large dog-sized creature swim around. "You ever see anything like that?" "Now that you mention it, I think I have. One of those living boat things? Not the ones that look like chicks, though." A function of a presence in the city is that people eventually get used to you, despite how odd you might be. Eventually, though, the show is over. The strange beast's headlamp eyes happen to sweep over that small gathering, which seems to alert it to the fact, finally, that it was being watched. It gives a strange, buzzing hiss, which somehow manages to convey a sense of feeling embarassed at making such a spectacle, and it begins to swim off to the far side of the pond.

    The glow of the lamps wouldn't be difficult to follow, however, for the adventurous, even though the joggers quickly return to what they were doing.

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
  The shuffling of newspaper is crisp from beneath the nearest street lamp, and Heinkel Wolfe pays the fitness junkies no more than a cursory look as they go bouncing past.

  At least until one of them goes 'yelp' around the corner. Her eyes narrow, and she looks up from her newspaper, page crinkling it as she squints suspiciously towards the pond. How she can actually see the print in such dim lighting while wearing those sunglasses (and why is anybody wearing sunglasses at this hour?) is anybody's guess.

  If not for the tidy white collar, Heinkel's priest robes might just well vanish into the gloom. As it is, light gleams off the lenses of her sunglasses, and she reaches up to adjust the lenses and quirk an eyebrow.

  The other brow vanishes into her ragged bangs, and she leans forward from her park bench vantage point.

  Plucking her newspaper from the bench, the paladin half-jogs, half-paces after the strange lake creature. A fastidious flick of the wrist straightens out her newspapers as she walks, long stride carrying her alongside Wo easily. A second flick tucks the papers under an arm; at about the same time, she drops her hands into her pockets, climbing down into a crouch to peer into the lake. Her head tilts just slightly as she eyes the shallows.

  "Hallo...?"

  The voice that issues from the tall, lanky figure is thoroughly androgynous; if it's a female's voice, it's so low that it could easily be mistake for a slightly feminine male's voice. Heinkel leans forward just slightly, squinting into the shallows.

  She may or may not have one hand hovering about where her gun is, but she doesn't reach for the weapon just yet. One never knows, after all, and in her line of work paranoia isn't so much an undesirable personality trait as it is a survival skill.

Wo has posed:
Must be all that sensitive pit viper-like heat vision, that would be too overwhelmed even this close to total nightfall! Regardless, the creature isn't hard to pursue, especially for one trained in that sort of thing. It stays well away from the water's edge, though it does pause in its movements as it appears to hear the voice calling out to it. That only causes it to startle and begin to swim away faster, though in the moment it turns around, a good look of its features finally present itself. It's a vaguely shark or whale-like shape, with its outer shell a deep but reflective black, which would definitely explain why it was difficult to see at first. The weirdest thing, though, is that it has two rows of oversized, but otherwise perfectly formed, human-like teeth, set into a ratched jaw structure. As it turns to leave, it's possible to see a fixed, tail fluke-like structure at the end, though it doesn't seem to receive most of its impulse from it.

    Hopefully, any misunderstandings won't turn into unnecessary violence. The creature swims to another humanoid shape that presents itself, on the shore of the pond. Is it planning to launch an attack!? Hardly. Should Heinkel continue to approach, they would see the shark-like being hop out of the water, but rather than flounder and flop about, it actually has two tiny, stubby legs, which it uses to scamper quickly behind the apparently female figure. There, it shivers and shakes, thoroughly spooked by the experience of being chased. In naval terms, that seldom ends up well. As the decidedly humanoid counterpart turns, she has subtly glowing eyes, as well, of a pale cyan blue, though thankfully not as intense as the other's headlamps.

    "Don't wo-rry," comes a subdued, almost monotone voice, with a light dose of anime-style villain's reverb. "This child won't, harm any-one." At least, unless ordered to, but even then it might be a tough sell. She's not as blood thirsty as many Abyssals. With this, the more human-looking of the two steps into the light of a street lamp, as the one from before peeks around from behind her lower legs. With that ridiculously pale skin, it could be forgiven to mistake her for some kind of vampire; she has the canines, to match, though not bared. There's also the matter of that hat on her head, smaller than her usual battle-worn model, though still with the same distinctive black with teeth aesthetic.

    "She was, just scared..."

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
  A gloved hand hovers just above the stock of the pistol, but Heinkel makes no move to draw the weapon. She simply waits, studying the bizarre creature to see what it might do. Her reactions are purely reactive; the Iscariot is a rarity in that she usually doesn't shoot first and ask questions later. She's patient enough to study, and answer her own questions.

  Also patient enough to stop and ask the questions in the first place. That's a good deal more patient than a lot of Iscariot paladins that come to mind.

  Heinkel strides forward, unhurried and undistirbed. She watches as the shark-like thing puts on a little extra speed, following it with unhurried steps. Her lanky long stride works in her favour in this case. Her hands remain stuffed in her pockets, cigarette dangling from her lower lip.

  She comes to a slow halt as the thing scurries up and out of the water, with alarming agility. Is Boston coming under attack from some terrifying new enemy? A collective of partly mechanical monstrosities, to rampage through the city? Are these scouts?

  Heinkel's head lolls very slightly to one side, and somehow, the fact that her stare is blank is clear even through the opaque sunglasses.

  The Iscariot paladin blinks once or twice, frowning and sweeping the sunglasses off her face. The instant light touches her eyes, they flare into blue-white light, just like the eyes of a cat caught on camera. They fade and flare to life with every slight change in angle, and Heinkel has those milk-pale eyes fixed on the Abyssal.

  After all that, the only thing Heinkel can do is stare blankly. It's rude. She knows that. But she can't really help herself in this particular instance. "Uh. Vell, that's not something you see every day. Hi?" Her head tilts the other way, frowning around her cigarette. "Actually, I think Boss might have mentioned something... you must be... Vo?" Pause. "Wo," she adds, with a little conscious effort.

  That hand is still hovering over her gun, and she pointedly moves it away. Either she's deciding to trust this young woman, or she's at least acting in a way meant to put the stranger at ease. She rolls the cigarett from one side of her mouth to the other, bemused. "Who are you?"

Wo has posed:
The description definitely matches, as well as being accompanied by this biomechanical creature, which is effectively a 'less evolved' form of the more humanoid Abyssals. This being is none other than the Wo-class aircraft carrier, given the same form as the surface dwellers. It's a fact that, despite the odd pronunciation, she passively accepts with a soft but confirming tone coming from her throat. "And 'Boss' would be...Psy-ber," she presumes? "Kon-gou's, Admiral." It's difficult to get much of a reaction out of the humanoid carrier, even if she's socially improved in many ways, since first hitting the surface. What does happen, though, which perhaps Heinkel's attuned senses could catch on to, is that what little tension there was to her muscle fibers soon fades.

    Bending down, she scoops up the still-troubled beast from before. While it's a bit large to fit comfortably in her arms, and probably weighs a good deal in its own right, she seems to have no trouble with it. Instead, she lays an arm across its back, and rests a black gloved hand upon its head. It does seem to calm it down, somewhat, as the buzzing and crackling sounds become less agitated, or frightened. "We are...spirits. Ships that, fought in an old -- war. Though...now, we look like, this." Her own pale eyes glance down toward the creature, which she finally gives a name, or rather designation, by way of introduction, "I was an air-craft carrier. This child...is a des-troyer. I-class." The hissing coming from the latter seems to indicate a form of rudimentary agreement, and it's almost like a proper bit of intelligent vocalization is trying to come through, but it's impossible even for the translation effect to make sense of. Too much noise, too little signal.

    Enough about her, though. Wo raises her head back up fully, and seems to be studying her counterpart. "You are--?" Psyber is a decent person, as far as surface people go. He was also one of the first to acknowledge that the Abyssals weren't just a disease to be cured, and subsequently turned into their more public relations-friendly alter egos. She's willing to give the benefit of the doubt, here, despite the originally, somewhat tense circumstances.

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
  "Ja, that vould be Psyber." Heinkel straightens, dusting off her coat, although the direction she keeps her head facing suggests she's still watching both the Abyssal and the lesser Abyssal. Taking a pull from her cigarette, she watches as Wo scoops up the little whatever-it-is.

  Her nose wrinkles briefly. No, there's no scent of fear. Would that really smell the same in something like this, though? She can't say she's too sure of that. Cool as a cucumber, this Wo sort.

  Ships that fought in an old war... Heinkel rubs her jaw with one hand, studying the design of the little Abyssal creature. Child? Heinkel squints a little, and manages not to look too creeped out by the hissing. Still definitely pretty creepy though.

  "Heinkel Volf... Wolfe," she corrects herself, having to consciously speak around her own accent. "Iscariot operative. Assassin and tracker. I also vork for Heaven or Hell. Haf for years."

  Settling down on the shore, Heinkel lets one leg splay out, bending the other at the knee. "I'fe heard about these ship-spirit-girls around the Union and othervise. Hafen't actually met one yet, though. It's a pleasure."

  The Abyssal will have a gloved hand stuck out in her general direction. Sure, she's just a little bit wary, but if Psyber vouches for this Abyssal, she trusts his judgement.

Wo has posed:
The Abyssals, the allegedly 'dark' counterparts to their flip sides, which look much more like everyday people. The reputation is well earned, however, and if it were most any other, Heinkel would have reason to remain doubtful. Instead, the extended hand is gripped with a firmness that might not be expected, for such a rail thin, almost emaciated, frame. Undead(*) are strange like that, huh. "The Union," Wo echoes, with perhaps just a trace of either annoyance or regret; it's honestly difficult to say, with how reserved her tone is. "I have, dis-agreements. But...they aren't bad, people. Or ships." She's even managed to make a few friends among their number, though they remain estranged for the time being. Their goals and extistance are basically impossible to reconcile over just a couple of years.

    "Hein-kel," she vaguely struggles with, herself, though less due to an accent. Simply, it seems to be a battle to string things together. If she is a more developed being than this hissing, buzzing I-class, it makes an odd sort of sense. She moves on, however, committing the name to memory. "I visit Hea-ven or Hell, sometimes. The I-class likes to meet, the o-thers." There's a cheerful agreement, by way of what sounds like electronic static coming from the other Abyssal. "...per-haps, we will meet more o-ften, too." As she breaks away from the gesture of shaking hands, though, she freezes into place for a brief moment, as her eyes gain a distant look. Is she spacing out? The mysteries of these ship people are various.

    "They'll be land-ing, soon," she intones, which could be mistaken to be ominous given her tone and the subtle, internal echo to it. Indeed, above the relative silence of the night and against the backdrop of the more distant sounds of the city, sudden engine sounds make themselves more obvious. They appear to be on the approach, as well. "They want-ed to practice, night flying. ...and the I-class, wanted ex-ercise."

    Rather than be more horrors from the deep (which she totally has, make no mistake), the aircraft that appear out of the night sky seem to be...well, normal, if slightly outdated. If Heinkel is versed in them, it's a B-25 Mitchell medium bomber, being escorted by an F4F Wildcat and Type 0 Model 21, both fighters. It would be ridiculous to land full sized ones here in the park, so thankfully the scale also becomes apparent; they're on the large size of model aircraft, though Wo doesn't seem to be controlling them with a radio remote or anything of the sort. Instead, she simply watches as they pitch low and reduce speed, while preparing to make a somewhat bumpy landing on the same paved walk the runners use. They're also ridiculously detailed, if they are models. The lights even come on at the tiny landing gear.

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
  "Ja, Heinkel." The priest rolls the cigarette to the other side of her mouth, as though she were trying to determine what to make of this pale slip of a girl. She may have a humanoid form, but there's no mistaking the undercurrents of inhumanity. Like attracts like, though; of Heaven or Hell's variegated number, Heinkel is probably one of the least inclined to flip off the handle and start shooting unprovoked.

  Actually, that's pretty much why she's handling multiversal matters and, say, Yumie or Anderson aren't. Heinkel is a lot more level-headed than a lot of her associates. She comes from a different background than her dearest friends in Iscariot. However much she may be devoted to them, even she acknowledges that they have a tendency to fly off the handle a lot of the time, especially where matters of faith are concerned.

  Sighing and rubbing at her face, Heinkel nonetheless stops and eyes the Abyssal curiously when she seems to space out for a few minutes.

  They're landing? "Vhat--?"

  That's all she has time to say before the hardware of a world long past swoops down out of the night. She squints at the Mitchell, and the Wildcat and Model 21. Hands on her knees, she leans over to watch them as they come rolling up the gravel 'runway.' Awww, how adorable. And kind of creepy. And weird. She's of German descent, herself; she's familiar with the relics of World War II.

  Heinkel Wolfe does what anybody in her shoes would do, and just sort of stares for a few minutes. The cigarette is jabbed towards the model aircraft, along with their itty bitty detailed running lights and landing gear.

  "...How the hell do you do that?"

Wo has posed:
It's hard to say if Abyssal ships as a whole would be deemed unholy by righteous orders, though they certainly have all the hallmarks. Thank goodness for them that moderates like Heinkel exist, and those willing to take a deeper look, like the ever-mentioned Psyber. They're not really that different than those 'fleet daughters' that the surface people accept more willingly, just with different motives. The fact that the freshly awakened tend to not have much anger management or impulse control, another vampire analog, never helped matters. For now, however, Wo doesn't seem to be focusing on that. Instead, she watches the planes set down, and the first real hint of emotion seeps out of her. A relieved breath of air, a sigh.

    She then hesitates somewhat at Heinkel's question, even if it's clear that she heard it. There are still a lot of mysteries, even to her. "This equipment," she begins, "Is re-lated to what we used, in the times before. It's...a natural part of us. Like a hand would be, to a surface per-son." She sets down her 'pet' I-class on this, and helpfully holds what had seemed to only be an accessory, before, a shank of metal fashioned into the shape of a rod or cane. Judging from the concentration, it's her that makes the Wildcat fighter taxi further than the others after landing, practically right up to Heinkel before the engine cuts out, again apparently at her will. "This...isn't standard Abyssal e-quipment, though," she allows, as she's something of an outlier in yet another respect.

    "It isn't, only us, though," she continues. Right on cue, the glass of the cockpit's dome swings open, revealing a diminutive figure inside. They aren't human proportioned, though; a relatively large and plump head on a miniscule body, with two button-like eyes staring up after a set of aviator goggles is raised. The tiny pilot takes a long glance, then pokes her tongue out and to the side, as she gives a thumbs up. Mission accomplished! "...the fairies, too. The equipment, also has spi-rits." It only follows the strange logical order in Wo's origin. Subsequently, fairy pilots and crews also file out of the other aircraft, though they stick close, as Wo begins to gather them up. "Everyone returned, safe-ly. This time." The I-class also seems excited, bouncing on those stubby legs.

Heinkel Wolfe (Dropped) has posed:
  One could probably argue the definition of an Abyssal either way. While they do exhibit ferocious tendncies, they also exhibit reason, and some of the more moderate ones can put a lid on the monster act. Heinkel certainly doesn't seem inclined to pull out her pistols and start shooting. In fact, she seems calm, all things considered.

  Heinkel looks down, straight down, and stands a bit forward on the balls of her feet. Her boots are too scuffed for the Wildcat to leave a reflection. She does crouch down to look at the little plane, though, absently poking at it in open curiosity with a gloved forefinger.

  The spirits of the equipment... she considers the fairy with open fascination. Half a glance is cast over to the bouncing bubbly I-class, and Heinkel offers a hand for the bouncy little thing to inspect. "I'm not completely up on my history. I haf my hands full vit other things. But the designs, they look familiar." She looks sidelong at the little Wildcat fighter plane and its tiny fairy pilot. "Never seen anything like them, though." The fairy is gestured to, vaguely. "

  "Vell, it vas nice to finally meet you. Heard the Boss talking about you sometimes." She'd partly tuned it out because it hadn't really seemed logical or believable at the time, so she'd assumed she'd been hearing about something... else. She seems about to say something else, when her cell phone rings.

  A forefinger is held up as she flicks it open. "Ja. Heinkel. Chief?" Silence. Heinkel looks aside, frowning as she listens to the voice on the other end. She even starts to pace a little, puffing smoke in her wake. "Ja? Uh huh. Are you sure? And you said Yumie's over there?"

  Silence, again. Heinkel's expression turns even more sour. "Ja. I understand." Sighing, she snaps the flip phone closed and drops it into her pocket. "Unfortunately, I haf to go. My superiors in Iscariot haf something for me to deal vit." She offers a wave, although it's a little awkward. "Nice to meet you, anyvay. I'm sure ve'll see more of each other around the Tower, ja?"

Wo has posed:
The fairy seems to be friendly enough. The Wildcat's pilot is quite outgoing, after all, sometimes even daring. Now that the I-class has had a chance to warm up and determine that Heinkel isn't going to shoot at it, it also waddles up and gives a big, toothy grin. Not that it isn't its default expression, but it seems to be a welcoming look. While Wo is gathering up all of the 'model' aircraft, which are fundamentally equivalent to their larger variants, she details them all. "...Mitchell, Wildcat, and Zero. A bomber and fight-ers, from what the surface peo-ple call, World War 2." There's another tinge to her voice, one that sounds regretful and perhaps mournful, leaking through her near monotone. Even if it's the environment she was born into, and even if she was created for battle, it doesn't mean one has to like their origin.

    The fairies seem to have gathered on Wo's shoulders and hat, much like air crews might disembark onto their carrier between sorties, as her arms are full of scale-sized craft by now. She doesn't get too nosey with what suddenly captures Heinkel's attention, though her eyes still pivot in that direction. "Busi-ness," she wonders? While she's not a resident of Heaven or Hell by any means, she's familiar with enough professionals from it that she knows that tone of call response. Regardless, she leaves it at that, and manages to quirk her deadened, mask-like expression into a reasonable facsimile of a smile at the apparent parting nicities. "I'll...be sure to, stop by. Heinkel," she responds, this time managing to even parse the name a bit more fluidly. "Psyber mentioned, Thanks-giving...perhaps then."

    The I-class pads a few steps after Heinkel, before stopping to bounce a few last times. These 'tame' Abyssals are certainly an odd bunch, but at least they don't seem to be too bad to interact with. Raising a hand though not quite waving it, Wo turns on a heel to begin moving in the opposite direction, toward her Boston safe house, with the hole destroyer escort and fairy entourage.