Scene #7737: Why Is The World Thiers?

Owner	Pose
Janine Liberi	There's a beautiful mansion on the shores of Sicily. Bleached white stone and artisan red tiled roof surrounded by lush gardens and towering palm trees. A stone wall rings the property, including the private beach past its backyard. The height of luxury. No one would ever think it was the vacation villa of Gioacchino 'the Gabriel,' the capo dei capi or 'boss of the bosses' of the Mafia. Normally one to keep his hands clean of 'the business,' tonight is a special occasion. Thanks to the otherworldly efforts of one Janine Liberi, the Mafia has successfully expanded their influence across all Europe, bringing other organized crime groups under their heel. Profit flows like water, and the absence of in-fighting means anyone can take a sip as long as they're willing to bow their head a little. And that's what this evening is for. Anyone willing to come along and play nice, enjoy Gioacchino's hospitality and the balmy Sicilian evening, gets to look forward to a prosperous future. And Janine, as the one who made it happen, gets to come. She's allowed her own crew of course. Wouldn't be fair considering everyone else is rolling up in rented cars with their own bodyguards and crew. Each one is thoroughly examined before being allowed through, and everyone getting out is immediately subjected to a pat-down and wave with a metal detecting wand. Even Janine is wandering the party sans her usual sword. She cleaned up nice though. Had her hair put in curlers and wearing a high-slit party dress. She's encouraged everyone to mingle with the criminals, and to 'be ready' whatever that means. How ready one can be depends on if they even showed up. Everyone was handed a plan of the mansion and 'encouraged' to 'show up early' if they felt it would be a better use of their skills.
Corona Arclite	Fancy hifalutin' parties really weren't a Corona scene, unless she was crashing it rather than being a guest. She disliked getting dressed up, and disliked even more having to go without her gadgetry and gizmos. Watching the people getting patted down before being ushered is making her paranoia twitch just enough that she's glad she opted for not just prancing in like all these big shot mafiosos. She'd bet dollars to dung that most of them are still armed, either by exceptional concealment, or by bribery. She lowered the binoculars and crouches back down, having decided instead to creep her way into the garden and stakeout from there. "Y'all couldn't throw a stone in there an' not hit some big name mob man," she muttered under her breath. She's answered by a soft hiss and clicking sound, drawing her attention to the automatonic jackalope hunkered up like a pack on her back. "Ah don't know whut she's up to either. She just said to 'come early' and 'be ready' for whatever it is." The fox raised the binoculars once more. "So iffen anyone asks, we're 'extra security', in case she needs eyes outside the party. With all the groups involved no one'd trust just one of them to handle the security. Too easy to exploit."
Karlan Nobles	Pramanix: "Did you really have to go with that excuse?" SilverAsh: "Did you have a better idea?" Pramanix: "I wanted it to be a silly gimmick. I had a whole backstory in mind, too." Fancy parties among organized criminals aren't too out of the ordinary for the likes of SilverAsh. Pramanix is a little more out of her element here, but her insistence on committing to what she helped start is primarily why the brother is here with the sister. Both of them are dressed to the nines as well, SilverAsh donning a well-tailored suit that's sure to show off any stains if someone was to spill blood in his presence, and Pramanix in a somewhat tacky sleeveless dress that might help hide the same. They're both armed, of course, with SilverAsh carrying a fancy cane/long scepter to give his hands something to hold onto, and Pramanix has her usual bell tucked away in a designer handbag. The pair stick close together, with Pramanix's bell being explained (by SilverAsh) as a necessary item due to a past attempt at food poisoning gone wrong. As they mingle, their priorities are looking for extra entrances and exit points, largely in case the flow of people needs to be controlled. In a pinch, however, they're certainly not above using them to escape and bottlenecking anyone that might need to be held back.
Candy	Candy hasn't ever been to Sicily. He hasn't met anyone who has. Tonight is a special occasion not just for Gioacchino the Gabriel, but for Candelario Estevez. Field trip! Party! Mischief! What's not to love? Naturally, he takes the opportunity to dress up a little, too. A clean white button up, just unbuttoned enough to be suggestive, sleeves rolled up and buttoned in place. A sharp black vest over top, pressed black slacks, and matching leather dress shoes he shined himself. In place of his newsie cap, he's got a bowler, and his hair has been brushed and bound with a red silk ribbon, resting over front of his right shoulder. The metal detector finds nothing on his person worth alarm, equally so for the pat-down, which he naturally makes difficult with juvenile quips and flirting, no matter how brief it may be. Corona can probably see him with her binoculars, twirling a lock of hair around his finger, and likely having to be held in place to keep from affecting ticklishness. "How about I come back after the party, and you can go a lot slower, ah?~" He hasn't showed up early--he's showed up precisely when he meant to. Mafia and revolutionaries sometimes bump elbows. It depends on the nature of the organization whether that's constructive or destructive--whether it's an organization that's protective or explotative in nature. Mingle he does, checking his hat at the door like a good boy, making introductions. You can tell a lot about what kind of outfit you're dealing with by the people it utilizes. Gioacchino is one thing--but who works for him? Who are his capos? What are they like? Money flows like water--is that all that's important to them, or is it something else?
Rita Ma	Rita the perfectly ordinary girl doesn't really have a conception of "party clothes" to draw upon, but she's dressed up in a perfectly nice upper-class outfit: a long vivid short-sleeved dress with a woven leather belt to cinch it in, a contrasting yarn cardigan around her shoulders, some light makeup, and with her mid-back-length sandy-blonde hair tied back with a single partial braid holding the rest of it in check. If she weren't so obviously comfortable in an outfit like that, she'd look like someone's kid unwillingly gussied up for a wedding. But of course she wears it easily. None of it is real. It's all just tentacles molded and camouflaged into clothes and skin; all of it, from the makeup to the cardigan and braided hair. She grimaces a little at the pat-down, but passes the metal detectors without the slightest chirp. That scared me for a minute. Bloodworms have copper teeth, don't they? What if this body grew metal in its bones, somehow? It isn't like I'd know. Once she's inside, her discomfort only worsens. The crash of waves and smell of salt in the background is uncomfortably familiar and soothing, but everything else puts her on edge, from the types of people they're consorting with to the decadence of the proceedings. Candy is an anchor for her- she locks eyes with him and smiles from across a crowded room- but they can't stick together, can they? Instead, Rita follows her nose to the kitchen or food prep area. Getting here a little early means I didn't have time to eat beforehand. It's already starting, that cold gnawing feeling below my ribs. They've probably got some meat they haven't cooked yet, right? ... But when she gets there, she might come up with more creative ideas than mere theft.
Janine Liberi	Corona from her position gets to watch everyone come and go. She gets some odd looks, but her excuse holds up. Gangsters might be a lot of things, but 'trained sniper' is a rare skill among them. A few of the Mafia's toughs even see fit to bring her some of the hors d'oeuvres to tide her over. SilverAsh's cane is examined carefully, but eventually waved through. The bell gets some raised eyebrows, but it would be an awkward weapon, so they let it slide. The siblings get some curious looks from the partygoers, mostly for their animalistic features. The saint also gets some lecherous glances, but the presence of her very imposing brother keeps them from evolving beyond that. Candy's amorous advances on the guard at the door causes his face to sour, the bruise to his machismo clear. But he's a professional, and completes the pat-down properly. Within the party proper, Candy can spot Boss Dominick, one of the bosses under Gioacchino. There's also several of the other bosses who operate in Italy. No-Nose Nero, Ezio the Etcher... they're all here. And not just the Mafia, there's all sorts of big names from across Europe here. This is a really dense meeting of big names. Rita scrounging for food is sure to be disappointed. Chefs in the kitchen are hard at work, and she's immediately obvious without some kind of camouflage, and quickly shooed out. But fortunately, it seems the time for the speech has finally arrived. Gioacchino is a wizened man, looking partially mummified as he stands at the head of the long dining table, capturing attention by tapping a fork against his glass. "Friends, and rivals-turned-friends, thank you all for coming," he says, his voice coarse but clear. "For most of my life, we have clashed and bickered and argued over imaginary lines in a map. Crabs in a bucket, pulling anyone who crawls up the sides back down into the muck. But no longer!" He raises an arm, and Janine and Boss Dominick walk over as waiters start handing out flutes of champagne to all in attendance (yes, even Rita). "Thanks to my boy Dominicik here, and the wonderous Multiversal talent of young Janine, we have entered a new era of friendship and mutual gain. Europe is ours everyone. To the future." He raises his glass, and everyone follows. The room fills with toasting shouts in different languages as the champagne is downed. Janine finishes her glass, looks around, and smashes it on the table before burying the broken glass into Dominick's neck. That must be the signal.
Corona Arclite	Corona Arclite accepts the snacks with a nod. "Much obligued." Leaving the men to go back about their business she pops a couple of hors d'oeuvres into her mouth. Chews thoughtfully then swallows. "Not bad," she murmurs to herself, "but could use more grasshopper. Or maybe frog legs." She a fennec, what do you expect? They eat insects and other small desert animals. "But Ah gots a feelin..." She gives her goggles a tug back into place over her eyes, then syncs in the small comlink concealed in their framework. Just in time to get Janine's signal comment. "Heh. The sly gal. She could a'most be a fox..." She raises a hand over her shoulder, grabbing the weapon stock as Hopalong ejects it from his internal storage, and as she draws it free it extends itself into a ... That's not actually a sniper rifle. It's shorter, stockier with a wide cylindrical barrel. It's a grenade rifle. Once in her grip it syncs with the smartgun apparatus built into her glove, which is tuned to the display in her goggles. It flicks a few trajectory calculations, with which Corona takes aim, sets the explosive to a precise delay, and fires. Being a timed charge rather than an impact trigger allows her to bank shot it off the ground to get around the corner of the building and tumbling towards the entrance. Where it will roll to a stop. Maybe give the front guards just long enough to look down and see what it is. Then the fragmentation grenade explodes. If the blast doesn't kill them, the smoke and shrapnel will certainly keep them from rushing inside to help or farther obstruct the front doors. Or draw more attention from inside, which is also good, it'd take pressure off whatever Janine is up to.
Karlan Nobles	Indeed, neither Pramanix nor SilverAsh bothered to hide their ears or their tails, and the former even seems to revel in the looks despite her position and also her brother shooting vaguely dangerous looks at those he catches in the act. It's a minor amusement, at the very least, as they're both already somewhat prepared for what's to come when Gioacchino finally speaks up to get everyone's attention. They await the signal. They're not sure what it is, but it thankfully comes sooner rather than later as the elder speaks, and Janine makes her move. Feigning shock at first, Pramanix brings out her bell as she starts ringing it rapidly, but with a rhythm that might not be so easy to notice in the shock of seeing Janine stabbing a guy in the throat. Is she calling for help? No. A panic response? Also no. Instead, she's beginning a snow-summoning ritual. It starts outside at first, so it really might seem like she's doing nothing but freaking out, but those outside might notice the results of her handiwork rather quickly: A blizzard has started abruptly outside the mansion in Sicily, a freak storm out of nowhere that's building quickly enough to start snowing in doorways, sealing windows in ice, and possibly even messing with whatever satellite dishes there might be if they use that for TV instead of underground cables. Strangely enough, however, the blizzard is deliberately avoiding the front door that Corona has her sights on, as if to provide a single chokepoint and escape route for anyone that might actually try escaping from there. The biggest sign that Pramanix and SilverAsh are in league with Janine, however, comes when the latter brings up his cane, twirling it once before stabbing the sharper bottom end of it right into another guest's face. A normal person would probably be able to do some damage with what's basically a really pointy cone already, but it might as well be a fencing foil in his hands as he gets to work leaping around, stabbing whoever's nearby and especially those that even attempt to get near Pramanix as she works on securing the building.
Rita Ma	Rita is forcibly expelled by some very overworked and stern kitchen staff. While one of them gently shoves her out the door, she blubbers a litany of embarrassed apologies. "I'm so sorry, mister! I really didn't realize-" The smell of distant blood reaches her before Janine's command does. Her eyes go wide; her pupils constrict to points. The rest of the world fades away. She slips out of the chef's grasp with eerie strength without really registering he's there, reaches out to grab a 12-inch chef's knife from a nearby block, and immediately darts out the kitchen's double doors. Behind her, her invisible tentacles wrap around the doors' handles, binding them shut before camouflaging and calcifying into the appearance and strength of iron chains. She intuitively understands, even like this, that those people ought to be spared from what's about to happen here. But this is bad. I don't know how long I can keep my composure like this...! If I were all alone, it wouldn't matter, but... I'm terrified to let my friends see me as a monster. Hence, the knife. It's plausible deniability. By the time Rita re-enters the main dining hall, the panic's likely started in earnest. She stands at the most obvious exit, barring the path with a squared stance and the kitchen knife held in both hands in front of her. It's hard to believe a slight girl like that could block a wide doorway all on her own, even with her obvious hostile intent, but anyone who tries it will get an ugly surprise. First, that's not the real Rita blocking the exit, but a tentacle-woven illusion- the real one is clinging to the ceiling, invisible. The air around the illusory Rita dances with ribbon-thin and razor-sharp invisible tentacles ready to cut anyone to pieces who walks through. The illusion will move and 'attack' to give the impression that their wounds were inflicted with her knife, but the tentacles are far more flexible and deadly than a single blade.
Candy	Candy wrinkles his nose playfully at Rita. They can't stick together just now, it's true--but they can definitely have that kind of pleasant, comforting moment you have at parties like this. 'That's someone I know and like. I'm not totally stranded here!' He does not know No-Nose Nero, Ezio the Etcher, or Boss Dominick, and whether he likes them is going to depend a lot on what Giacchino has to say--and the old chestnut of 'crabs in a bucket' mingled with 'Europe is ours' is not doing the outfit any favors. <Tac-Watch> [4] Janine Liberi says, "Start killing. None of them leave here alive." So it is that kind of outfit. Not protective at all, but something designed to squeeze people dry opposite power structures able to paint themselves with the brush of the state. Candy wouldn't have the words to put it just so--but he does know a bug hunt when he sees one. This is a big, open space. If he starts shooting right away, everyone in the room is going to have an angle on him. The way to make it out of these things alive is misdirection and management. The Candy that's mingling with No-Nose and the Etcher isn't quite right. It's the hair ribbon--black instead of red. But the pump action that suddenly appears in his hands, that might be a lot more attention-grabbing, especially when he blasts it into the air once, before turning it on the nearest big name. He sounds real, he looks real, he even feels real if someone tries to strike him--but the moment they notice that ribbon, he distorts like water disturbed by a stone until his image breaks apart. The waitstaff, the bartender, the chefs, of course, they all get a pass. But everyone who's here as a guest... well, Janine is trying to get rid of one side of the vice grip, and he's willing to help. The real Candy appears instantaneously behind the bar. If he has to, he'll apply the butt of the pan magazine light machine gun to discourage any heroism, but he doesn't expect he'll have to. Strap around his shoulder, Candy sweeps drinks and bottles alike from the counter, broken glass and liquor raining down on the seats and floor below. The weapon's bipod rests firmly against it, eyes darting across the room to see who's drawing first and shooting two to three center-mass, tight clusters of four and five rounds each. After the third he huddles behind the bar and waits for the inevitable return fire. Normally this would be the worst spot to take cover. Bars weren't made to stop bullets. But he's banking on someone to make exactly that conclusion. The poor choice of cover, the weapon's clacking rapport, its unwieldiness, should make him a prime target. When he darts back up again, time has stopped. Towards the entrance, guards are frozen mid-flight, vicious shards of shrapnel in furious pursuit as doors blown from their hinges hover precariously in their ungainly flight. All of it, illuminated by the glaring light of an explosion. They're already going loud, so Candy allows himself a low whistle--Corona knows how to make an entrance. SilverAsh in mid-strike cuts a handsome figure, making use, of all things, a cane. Unusual, but the scarlet ribbons that fly from the face of his victim don't tell any lies about its effectiveness. Pramanix is checking the entrance. She's got her brother and his magic, and her brother is some kind of badass, but just in case. Just in case, as he turns and sees chains wrapped 'round the kitchen doors, as not-the-real-Rita bars an exit, he's searching for people who are actually good shots. People who might actually credibly hit himself, the twins, Corona, or not-the-real-Rita.
Candy	Time resumes. -A cacophony of dress shoes on dining room floor. -A low whistle, near Corona, only audible to her just faintly. -All around, sidearms and aims go wild, giving normally experienced shots only split seconds to avoid friendly fire. -Even bullets that ought to hit their mark are compelled by some invisible force to bend away, or in some cases, do complete 180 degree turns. Thanks, Phony! -Candy appears back behind the bar, sweeping the room with that LMG in a hip-fire position, tense and ready to spring.
Janine Liberi	The guards out front, ignorant of what just happened inside, fail to react to the grenade that lands at their feet in time. The detonation tears them apart, and blows the front doors open, allowing the freak snowstorm to blow into the mansion, immediately causing the temperature to plummet. Within the party, angry shouts and concealed weapons start coming out. Gioacchino's face becomes a rictus of fury as he reaches for Janine, but she considers her reflection in the broken glass, summoning Catherine. Howling winds dominate the inside of the mansion, knocking weapons from hands and giving SilverAsh license to go on a rampage with only some clumsy haymakers coming his way. Those disarmed choose flight instead of fight, rushing towards the petite Rita blocking the main doors with a knife. "Outta my way kid!" a large man orders, likely immediately before getting torn to shreds by the concealed real one. Those who see this opt instead to go for windows, bursting out into the night. Candy works in mysterious ways. Their large gun immediately causes several toughs to zero in on him, but... something happens. The kind of thing that people in this profession aren't creative enough to understand. But they die anyway, to each other's bullets. Soon, the hall is clear. Janine has Gioacchino bound in Catherine's golden threads, and she barks an order at everyone. "Pursue and destroy. They'll be going for cars, or the boat shed." She looks to the help, and the sealed kitchen doors. "If you want to make sure they get out, fine. But not one guest gets out. Am I understood?"
Corona Arclite	The whistle is faint beneath the cacophony of gunfire, howling winds and time shenanigans. Corona might not of picked up on it if it wasn't directed towards her and she has really good hearing. But still she knows a whistle of appreciatin when she hears it. Not that there is time to really muse on it. The grenade rifle is stowed away as she moves to get a better view of the blasted open doors, instead drawing a punk-tech looking slightly oversized revolver. Though all she sees is Rita covering the inside of the doors, and thugs being taken down by vicious slashes. Looks like they have that covered. Long ears twitch at the sound of windows shattering, and she looks back to see men using the windows as exits instead. "Guess it's time to do our think, Hopalong." She shrugs the backpack off, allowing the automatron to click-a-clack-a into his proper jackalope form. The thrum of unorthadox mechanics rumbles from within as it takes off in leaps and bounds towards the car parking. Corona's attention turns the other way, goggles zoning in on a few running towards the beach in hopes of a boat powered escape. "Ah'm gonna just havta stop y'all rawht there," she drawls as raises the handcannon and pulls the trigger. The 'cylinder' churns to life and spins, proving to actually be some manner of microsized generator. It emits a glow from within the barrel, then fires off several bolts of energy arcing into the night. At first it seems to be simply scattered spreadfire... Until Starslinger's unique effect kicks in and all the energy bolts abruptly bend at seemingly impossible angles to home in on the fleeing mobsters. At the other end Hopalong leaps (literally) into action, slamming into a mafio's backside, bouncing off in a manner that would make any toadstool stomping plumber proud, and landing on the hood of one of the cars. The mecha-jackalope opens his maw wide, the hot glow within visible just before he starts spewing out balls of flaming molten metal at anyone trying to get close.
Rita Ma	A brave bodyguard pulls a gun on the false Rita. Though she's only pantomiming at violence, and the bullet would pass right through her harmlessly, a pantomime has to stay believable. She brings up her knife with superhuman alacrity as if to block the bullet on its flat. Candy stops time. The bullet does a 180 mid-flight, reversing to kill its shooter. The fake Rita looks back and forth between her knife and the dead man in disbelief. Did I really just...?
Karlan Nobles	With the inside of the mansion secured with ease thanks to the chaos caused by everyone hitting the mansion from multiple angles inside and out, both Pramanix and SilverAsh get away from the initial brawl with little more than scratches. Upon noticing that Janine's secured Gioacchino with the hall mostly empty, they turn their attention towards the outside. SilverAsh: "It looks like they made their escape through the windows." Pramanix: "If they're trying to leave through vehicles, though... I can stop those without even leaving this place." SilverAsh: "How fortuitous. In that case, I shall continue acting as a protector for you and Janine." Pramanix: "We'll be fine. Now quit loitering and get out there! I'll get the boats, and you get the cars." SilverAsh sighs dramatically before heading out, giving chase for those trying to escape by car. Those he can reach get stabbed or battered by that sharpened cane, but his priority is reaching those cars to disable them with precise thrusts into their tires to render them unworthy for driving. Pramanix, meanwhile, continues her ritual even as she makes her way out towards the boat shed. With the boat shed in mind and said boats probably somewhere out there, she does the only thing she can: Bringing that icestorm down onto the boats to not only batter them with hail, but even freeze over the water they're in.
Candy	Janine makes it plain--not one guest should make it out. "Already the plan, my friend." The LMG is slung around his shoulder by the strap. Vaulting the bar, he breaks into a run. The first person he passes is Rita. Snow crunching beneath his dress shoes, "What you doing for dinner tonight, ah?" Her illusion even has him fooled. He has something for her, too--five cards, these one razor sharp and with the consistency of metal. Thrown through the air, it will easily cut through bone, and perhaps even metal. He makes a little baton-pass, handing them off to her illusion before he exits with a rapid blinking teleport all the way across the room, until he's on the other side of one of those windows, out in the street. SilverASh, slashing tires, gets a little assistance. "Hey, handsome!" In Candy's free hand, smoke curls and light flashes, blown away by as he tosses it underhand. Midair, a machete in a leather scabbard is revealed. Silverash is a hellion with that cane, but it never hurts to have a backup, especially a magical one. The machete cuts not just with its edge, but with lacerating arcs of pressurized water. "Yankee," he teasingly calls towards Corona. "I like your little friend. You want to help it along, this'll throw 'em off. Just think of something scary and -whisht!- Chuck it." He flicks the card into an easily-caught arc. It's essentially a dealers' choice illusion she can use to corral the fleeing mobsters back into hers and Hopalong's line of fire. They won't be perfect illusions, but who has time to think 'several of these things are not like the other' in the middle of all this? Hopalong and SilverAsh have the cars handled. Pramanix is working on the boats. There are, in all this chaos, undoubtedly people who will be trying to leave on foot. Candy has that covered. One hand steadies the LMG, the other, naturally, works the trigger. It's not as accurate, without the bipod bracing it. He is, however, very used to firing weapons improperly out of necessity. Clack-clack-clack. Fifteen. Clack-clack. Thirteen. Clack-clack-clack. Ten. The pan magazine dwindles further with every press of the trigger, and when it's run out, he shrugs off the gun and tosses it aside. Playing cards fly after stragglers. They don't cut, or burn, or explode. They drown--filling up the lungs of his targets with water in an effort to clean up the last of the runners.
Rita Ma	But the fake Rita doesn't get to contemplate impossible ballistics for very long before that large man comes at her, and is promptly cut into very real ribbons. When she realizes nobody else is going to try and rush her after that display, the real Rita drops down from the ceiling and re-merges with the illusion seamlessly, becoming visible once more. She looks at Janine and gives a firm understanding nod, but her right eye parts from the left, chameleon-like, to glance down at the carved-up human flesh at her feet. Its pupil alone constricts again to that pinpoint appearance, but a second later it snaps back to rejoin the left in a united gaze. Swallow the drool. Don't focus on that smell. It feels like I'm being stabbed in the gut, but I can hold out a little longer. Just long enough that none of them have to see. I hate this. I hate it so much. Hurting bad people is okay, but this body won't even let me do that like a human. Candy hands her the cards. "What you doing for dinner tonight, ah?" makes her instinctively flinch, but she takes the gift anyway. Her brain can't cook up an appropriate response, so she defaults to: "Ah- be safe, Mr. Candy...!" Then Rita leaps out a window and into the snow, running towards the boat shed. Her gait is a traditional girly run at first, then a genuine dead sprint, and finally a lightning-fast feral quadrupedal gallop as she gains momentum and gets further from prying eyes. Anyone she overtakes is immediately sliced into halves, thirds, or quarters with a performative flick of her knife and those lashing invisible tentacles, or gets one of Candy's throwing cards stuck in a vital point if they're too far out of her way. The water. If any of them get to the water, I can drag one of them under, and then nobody will see- But Pramanix is already there. Rita comes to a dead stop, frozen in guilt and fear. In the dim evening light, her eyes are glowing a cruel blue even through her veil of normalcy. Blood flecks her arm and face. She's breathing heavily, and the points of cruel shark-like teeth can be seen between her lips, glittering saliva strung between them. She flinches, looking down at the snow with an anguished expression. "Please... don't look at me, Ms. Pramanix. Just go. I'll take care of them here." I must look awful already. I won't feel bad for what I do to these people. But in front of her- I can't, but it hurts so bad not to...
Janine Liberi	SilverAsh heads to the cars, which are indeed being swarmed. The freak snowstorm has iced the doors enough that getting them opened is a struggle, and chilled the engines enough that it takes a few tries to get them to turn over. Plenty of time for him to make it over and destroy tyres (and also the occupants when they decide to make a last ditch effort). Those who get out and make a break for it are cut down by Corona's seeking lasers. Others have molten metal spewed at them, their screams drowned by the brewing storm. Candy takes it upon himself to shoot down the ones attempting to scale the walls. Unfortunately, this is a home built for illicit dealings in mind, and they're high enough that even an Olympic athlete would have trouble. They beg, but all they receive is a bullet each. The lucky last ones who manage to use their fallen friends as a footstool only find their lungs full, the lack of oxygen only making them collapse atop the wall and fall on the other side. Out on the beach, the chill frosts even the salty sea water. A few motor boats had managed to clear the dock, but immediately wreck themselves on the shards of ice, the biting hail punching clean through them. In a panic, those on them slide across the ice and plunge into the freezing water, attempting to swim away. They all have some manner of cut and scrape for whatever reason. Easy prey for Rita.
Corona Arclite	"Just don't aim for the face, we still want 'em identifiable!" Then Corona actually smirks a little at the 'yankee' remark as she catches the card tossed her way. "Playin' a bit o' aces wild are we? Much obliged." She considers the instructions a moment, gets an idea, and flicks the card. "Well then, let's turn this into a proper stampede. Yeehah!" If you thought one robotic jackalope was a sight... what about a herd of them? Insert joke about rabbits multiplying here. The situatin is already confusing so Corona just adds to it by using the card to create dopplegangers of her sidekick, making it all the more difficult to tell which one is the real one that's actually going to spit slag at them from the ones that are just hopping around intimidatingly to keep crooks from running off. From that point there's just so much sheer chaos going on to take care of actually taking them out. By this point Corona has just holstered her own gun, and is letting Hopalong have its fun wrapping up this fiasco. That a lot of these mofos are going to have their final image being the sight of a cute yet lethal robotic jackrabbit with antlers before getting roasted by the clockpunk cryptics slag spit does get another smirk out of her. "Jus' all in a night's work."
Karlan Nobles	"Ah, a proper blade to use. Thank you, Candelario." SilverAsh gives thanks where they're due as he catches that blade tossed his way from Candy, even going as far as catching it without looking like he's looking at it in the process. It's most certainly not something he's practiced before, but being as this is the first time it's actually happened? Of course he's going to take advantage of that opportunity. So what if machetes aren't really his style? A sword is still a sword, and a magical one makes slicing tires and legs even easier. "Please... don't look at me, Ms. Pramanix. Just go. I'll take care of them here." <Tac-Watch> [4] Karlan Nobles \| Pramanix says, "Rita? Are you hurt?" <Tac-Watch> [4] Rita Ma says, distressed: "N-no! I'm just..." <Tac-Watch> [4] Rita Ma struggles with words for a few seconds. <Tac-Watch> [4] Rita Ma says, "... please." <Tac-Watch> [4] Karlan Nobles \| Pramanix says, after a long pause "Sure thing. I don't need to see the water too well to know that I can throw this snow around." <Tac-Watch> [4] Rita Ma says, maybe a little tearfully: "Thank you, Ms. Pramanix. I..." That's all that Pramanix needs to hear. Although there's some notable degree of danger in keeping her eyes closed for the rest of this ritual, she knows the steps by heart. The movements. The rhythm of ringing her bells. The floor can't be that slippery, and she'll just have to trust that someone's watching her back. She hears the boats moving, and she hears some of them crashing, and she even hears some people freaking out in the water. As promised, she makes sure not to look, no matter what she hears.
Rita Ma	<Tac-Watch> [4] Karlan Nobles \| Pramanix says, taking on a more tranquil tone "No need to explain now, Rita. Whenever you feel like it, if you do. How does that sound?" <Tac-Watch> [4] Rita Ma sounds like she's wiping her eyes. "Okay, Ms. Pramanix. That... sounds good. Thank you." Ordinarily Rita would just dive into the water and hunt them from below. It's the easiest thing in the world, with her new body; really too easy for comfort. But with Pramanix there- If she's got her eyes closed for me, I have to protect her! I can't go too far. What if someone's still got a gun? Pramanix can hear a soft wet slithery-unraveling, very nearby. Pramanix can hear screaming from the people in the freezing water- first in terror, then in pain. Pramanix can hear their screaming and splashing abruptly stop, one by one, and in quick succession. She can hear the sound of something heavy being dragged out of the water. She can hear a quick, efficient slice. She can hear bones crunching and ligaments tearing and the wet noises of uncomfortably enthusiastic consumption, heavy breathing arrested only when the airway is blocked. She can hear the splash of something noticeably less heavy than before being thrown back into the water, and a wet slithery-reweaving. Finally, she can hear Rita saying, in a soft and timid-ashamed voice: "It's okay, Ms. Pramanix. You can open your eyes now. I- Thank you." The water is red, and the sand is red, and Rita is exactly as she was before.
Candy	Eventually, there's quiet. Candy breathes a sigh of relief. If he smoked, now would be the time for a cigarette. He does, however, drink, and amber bottle of something dark catches the light of the evening sky, following another one of those little smoking lightshows in his hand. Stepping over bodies, crunching through snow and stepping around smoldering heaps of cooling molten metal, Candy pries open the door of one of those cars, using the inside as a makeshift bottle opener. He takes a swig. "Ah." It may look like it, on the outside--his sly smile make make this seem a 'job well done' drink. But it isn't that kind of drink. It took some time, to get used to the earpiece. He wasn't familiar with the technology, his own radios typically so much larger. Even the ones he made for the local Watch cells to monitor the MAD-Men were at least fist-sized. But he's used to the earpiece. He knows how to work it well enough. He heard... something, between Rita and Pramanix, and he knows Rita well enough to know what it is. I know how come you feel that way. I wish you didn't, but I know home come you do. Can't play word games. Can't dance around it. Know what I can do. The place is essentially the smoking remains a god damn war zone, at this point. There's no reason to stay--he can say what he has to say elsewhere, later and hope that it doesn't make things worse. The glass shatters, when he's finished, against the outside wall. The tenor growl of a four-stroke engine fades into the night.
Janine Liberi	Once all is said and done, Janine takes to the air, flying all around the area, scanning the ground with a high-powered flashlight. Eventually, she returns. "No runners. I think we got 'em all." The staff have been permitted to go. Car keys have been salvaged from bodies and left for them to figure out how they hit the road. Gioacchino has been tied to the base of one of those palm trees. He's currently spitting curses at everyone in Italian. Tears run down his face and pool in his wrinkles. "Could have had it all, stupid whore. And you throw it all away! For what?! People will replace us, and you'll have to start all over!" Janine kicks him in the gut. "Nah. In the society we build, there won't be room for the criminal element. No gaps for you to hide in. No wants or needs for you to provide." Catherine emerges once more, and extends a thread from the top of the tree. It's tied into a noose. It wraps around Gioacchino's neck, and the threads tying him up vanish. Slowly, the noose retracts, leaving the old man struggling, clawing at it as he tries to breath. "Good work everyone," Janine says to everyone. "I filched some champagne, so let's have a real toast once we get out of here." She doesn't even spare a look at the old man as he writhes atop the tree.