Scene #7802: One More God Rejected

Owner	Pose
Janine Liberi	A grey sky and dull chill is all that greets tourists to Vatican City today. Winter has begun in Rome, and while there's no rain at the moment, the air is heavy and humid. Tourists mill about, getting pictures taken in front of the obelisk in St. Peters Square. The pope does not have any appearances scheduled today, so it's not densely packed. Janine loiters, sipping some abomination of an iced coffee. Today she observes the dresscode of Vatican City. A long-sleeved woolen top and jeans. You're not allowed to expose your upper arms or legs after all. That sports bag she keeps her sword stashed in hangs from her shoulder as usual. Waving fellow Watch members over as they arrive, she produces a map of the City and holds it up. "The Pope is here today, but I don't know where. Confronting him is priority one. But, we also need to make a statement. This can't be a pure stealth operation. At some point, we go loud and start breaking and burning shit. As much as a part of me rebels against it." She grimaces. "I really like this place honestly. The art and everything is really... kind of an experience." She produces tickets to access St. Peter's Basilica and the museums within the Vatican proper and hands them out. "I do recommend it if you're interested. Before we shoot it up." She taps the map with her thumb, indicating the southwest corner of the City. Here the map labels a heliport, and 'Vatican Radio Transmitter.' "Someone should hit these also. Cut off their immediate escape and transmissions. Any other places you feel like going after, I leave up to you. But remember, we have to end today with a Pope confrontation one way or another. Once we go loud though, the Swiss Guard will be on us. These guys are... untested, unknown. So they'll either be easy to handle, or really tough. No in-between. And once word gets out, the Italian Armed Forces will start swarming in. Let's not dawdle once the first shot rings out."
Forte	Forte makes An Attempt, with a large sweater and baggy jeans and a ridiculous hat, to cover up his literally and figuartively battle-coded form and go incognito. The headfins still give him problems, so the best he's been able to do there is make them look like they're part of the hat as some sort of ridiculous fashion statement. While he doesn't really have an interest in the museums or other art, he does take an offered ticket, mostly to be polite. It's blank by the time he puts it in his pocket. "I can take care of the radio transmitter, then," he says (a little more muffled than usual since he's using a fluffy knit scarf instead of his usual data-cloth poncho as a face covering). "I can also take care of the papal library, if you'd like to make a more nuanced statement, there."
Rita Ma	Rita's ordinary dress is already fairly conservative, so modifications are minimal; she sticks with a plain white blouse tucked into an ankle-length pleated dark skirt. A straw sun-hat with a little flower tucked into it completes the ensemble, though maybe it's a bit too big- with how close she sticks to Liza, the brim keeps bumping into the taller woman's shoulder. Her primary attention is on the map, only diverting to look up at physical landmarks and orient herself with the illustration. The southwestern corner... That'd be further back and to our left a little, wouldn't it? But she keeps up her end of the conversation even while committing the geography to memory. "The Pope... he's in charge of the whole religion, isn't he?" she asks, with perfectly oblivious innocence. "What did these people do exactly, Ms. Janine? We don't want to be hurting the tourists, I think, so... which ones should we be going after, besides just the Pope?" She takes, greedily, two tickets, and glances over at Liza with a pleading look. "I can do stealth just fine! But... do you want to go look at some things with me first, Ms. Grier?" She clearly expects the answer to be 'no', but that won't stop her from trying to work her charms.
Karlan Nobles	SilverAsh: "So this is what the Vatican City looked like in its prime..." Pramanix: "How do you know this is the city in its prime? It could get better than this. Or worse." SilverAsh: "It's undoubtedly better now than it is back home. Tickets to the Basilica would be lovely." Pramanix: "Don't dodge the question!" With their operation not quite underway just yet, the siblings from the mountains are already bickering a fair bit. As they're trying to avoid being recognized, their clothes are once again on the more touristy-formal side rather than official-formal: Pramanix is wearing her blue and black coat with the tiny hat, and SilverAsh is wearing his fancy, non-fur lined suit jacket. Being dressed for the location isn't any trouble for them, although the tails and ears might still give them away as not-from-here. Eventually, they take the provided tickets from Janine and pocket them carefully, and then they take a look at that map. Pramanix: "I don't know about burning things, but we can disrupt the heliport easily enough." SilverAsh: "Unseasonable blizzard?" Pramanix: "Unseasonable blizzard." SilverAsh: "That should leave us with plenty of time to visit the Basilica, then. Perhaps we could make that our meeting point once we complete our individual tasks." SilverAsh looks towards the rest of the crew at that last suggestion. Pramanix furrows her brow, then shrugs afterwards. "I don't see why not. Paintings, statues, some local snacks to recharge before we finish up?"
Liza Grier	<J-IC-Scene> Liza Grier says, "The fuck do you mean 'dress code'? It's a city." Later. <J-IC-Scene> Liza Grier says, "You can't have a dress code for a state! That's even worse!" <J-IC-Scene> Liza Grier says, "Did your world lose--" beat "--win that World War?!" Later. <J-IC-Scene> Liza Grier mutters something about 'fucking chaplains'. Liza has a surprisingly expansive closet for someone who usually only shows up in an incredibly menacing hardsuit. Almost none of it is appropriate for the fucking Vatican. "Too military-looking." "Too expensive for streetwear." "Exposed arms." "Midriff." "Skirt too short; when's the last time I wore a skirt?" "Arms again." "Too sketchy." "I'm not disguising myself." "Do they even have workers? Or does it all just sort of run on cherubs and rose petals and foreign slave labour?" "Too cold." "Arms. Again." "Fuck you people Eve got to go naked in the garden." Liza finally shows up in blood red and charcoal black (of fucking course) in the form of something like a tactical turtleneck and slightly baggy pants fastened into what could pass for moderately fashionable snow boots at a glance. There's no means by which she could get away with a helmet, so she just has to thank the dull clouds for blocking the hateful daystar from her 'actually non-anime albinism' complexion and hair. She figures it makes her an adjacent species to 'white and blonde' and thus she has acquired a cup of overpriced coffee to nurse at the meeting. Shockingly, her answer to Rita isn't even halting or hesitant. "Sure." she says. "I never got to visit Earth before it exploded. And this is the rare kind of mission that isn't on a timer." She does follow up Rita's question to Janine though, and the pack of motherfucking Jojo's characters she's surrounded with at large. "Yeah, I don't actually know a lot about the Earth pope. Other than this entire state being a walled garden of money and cultural heritage built on the back of imperialism and all, I'm sure you're not here just on principle. There's a million smaller, easier ivory towers to burn down, and you'd feel better about them. What does this accomplish in a tactical sense?" A pause. "I mean, what's the objective by doing this?" She turns to the nobles. "If you start an unseasonable Blizzard before I have my suit on, you're getting the hose.
Janine Liberi	"I'll leave that to you then. The library has a lot of banned books in it, so I'd be sad to see them burned. But honestly, they shouldn't be banned at all. That's a good gesture, go for it," Janine says to Forte before turning to Rita. "The Pope is the head, but the admins are the uh... Pontifical Commission. They have a President, and some appointed bishops. You would find them in the Palace of the Governorate." She taps the building, just west of the Basilica in the gardens. "As for what they did, well..." Janine makes a face like she's trying to condense centuries of history into a single statement that's plain enough for Rita to get it. "They existed long enough to basically be the de-facto religion for the Western world. This gives them incredible power and influence. And they've not done a thing to avert all the wrongs in the world. If anything, they've created more of them. Their ministers who wrong others are quietly moved instead of excommunicated, they do nothing to discourage religiously motivated hate crimes done in the name of their God..." Looking to the Karlan Nobles, she sighs and shakes her head. "We're not gonna have the chance to loiter once we're done. If you wanna see the Basilica, we should do that first. I really wouldn't mind seeing the Pietà again." To Liza, she nods. "Good question, let me explain. Last time, we managed to behead a lot of the organized crime syndicates in Europe in a fell swoop. We haven't made an announcement as of yet, but people are wondering. This world... only recently became aware of the Multiverse. It was a secret for a good while, and people wonder if there's some kind of foreign intervention from another world going on." "This is step two. After this, we announce our intent. We're clearing out the rot of this world. Not just the criminals, but the elites too. This is a stab at their hearts. Their money is too split up to meaningfully attack it in one act. But this place, Vatican City, is the spiritual heart of all that rot. The confluence of wealth, power, self-proclaimed moral superiority, all flowing out from Europe into the first world... it all starts here." "But, everyone wants to tourist it up first, so let's do that." Their tickets for the Basilica are checked and approved. Their appearance gets an eye, especially Pramanix and SilverAsh, but Liza's intensity also inspires startled blinks. Once inside, it's mercifully a little cooler, and... It really is awe-inspiriting. The centuries of work, by the best artisans of their times. The tiling, the statues, the frescos. Janine plays the role of tour guide. As she hoped, she shows off Michelangelo's Pietà, a statue of Mary holding the corpse of Jesus post-crucifixion, marvelling at the way it captures the flow of fabric in stone. Another of her favourites is the Chair of Saint Peter, a structure in gilt bronze with a great golden frieze of angels flocking around a dove. "This place is built upon the rock on which Peter was told to create the Church," Janine explains. "Apparently, the actual real rock is in the tombs below, where they buried a lot of popes. Speaking of burying popes though, we should get to work." Out comes the map again. "Forte said he'd get the radio, Pramanix has the heliport. Someone should tackle the Palace of the Governorate... someone could also attack the Swiss Guard Barracks, sow confusion to give us more time. I can check the Pope's residence, and generally stay in the air to co-ordinate. Oh, and the bank is definitely an important target. That needs to burn for sure." "Pick your targets and let's do this."
Rita Ma	On the way over, Rita glances at Liza's skin, remembers something distantly, and purses her lips in mild concern. She turns away for a moment, then tugs on Liza's sleeve to get her attention. "Ms. Grier? Will this help?" She's offering up an exact replica of her own straw hat, sans flower. It feels just a little stiffer and heavier than real straw ought to, but it's perfectly functional and inconspicuous. Regardless of whether that's accepted, her response to Liza's acquiescence is preciously sunny. She bounces up off her heels and claps her hands together, eyes practically sparkling. "Thank you, Ms. Grier! I got to see the dome in National Geographic once, but that's really not the same." Somebody cut themselves shaving, and I can smell it from all the way over here. It's kind of chilly and the sun isn't out. In a few minutes, we'll have some really ugly work to do. ... But even so, I can't feel unhappy. Getting to do innocent things again, even if just for a little while... it's always really nice. Janine's explanation hardens her resolve. There's no fiery drive or moral indignation, but just a little puff of a sigh, a nod, and a plucky determined half-smile. "People who sell hope and virtue from a position of power, but never do anything to make people's lives better... I think I understand. Thanks for explaining, Ms. Liberi." Liza gets an uncertain glance. "That's a lot of targets. Ms. Grier. They're going to take care of the radio and the 'helipad', so that leaves us with the Palace, the Barracks, and the Bank. Do we want to stick together, or split up?" Her feelings are tugging her in one direction, but practicality is pulling her in the other. Of course she marvels adorably at the inside of the Basilica itself, asking aloud: "How did they make that? Did they cast it in a mold?" about the statues, and the further in nearly falling over backwards when she tilts her ehad back to look straight up into the dome. "Whoa... how did people get up there to paint it? That must have been so scary! I don't even want to think about it..."
Liza Grier	"There's always a foreign intervention." Liza replies, grimly, then sips her ten dollar white chocolate karen macchiato as if it were hard whiskey from a skull-etched flask. Draining it, she crushes the cup into a wadded ball in one hand, and for a second, the Liza Tone creeps in. "Ah. I get it. War Ops." A pause. "Would you let me do the honours once we're twenty out? If we're announcing it to the word, I might as well sponsor. 'This is my favourite insurrection on this world' and all." Liza acquires one hat and fills her empty head slot. It provides +2 armour, +5 energy, and +20 Solar element protection. Tourism time! Liza rolls up her tac-turtleneck sleeve to get at her wristcomp for a second, remembers she changed to the PDA, and then settles for taking pictures instead. Actually, scans. For some reason, she feels the need to give a pithy remark on every single discrete scan of an individual piece of artwork. "Chill out Mary he comes back in three days." "Has anyone ever sat in that thing?" "You're gonna have to stand up to touch fingers." flows obligatorily with each download, between the actual appreciation and talking to Rita. "You'd never get that out of a mold. Probably cold-forged. Ridiculously hard." "I think they had scaffolding here back in the day. Or lying on your back on top of a really big ladder." "It must have been a real position of honour back when all of this really meant something, don't you think?" "I wonder how those artists would feel about the gilded shitsack their work is rotting in now." "Oh well, as nice as it'd be to heist them right out, I'm not a bank robber, and I didn't spent all day assembling a team of old friends earlier to fill a montage. The pixel printer will have to do." Getting out, Liza just waits for Rita to tag along. "Barracks are mine. Shitcurity is always a pleasure to hammer. Let them know nobody is coming to save them. That their status quo already lost its defenders, and they can't hide from the start." She coughs. "We don't know if they're a big deal or not, right? I'm taking the hardest job, but I'm also the biggest badass. We have six people here and five targets. I'll leave that up to you. Take care of who you think needs it the most." With that said, Liza casually walks off to exactly where civilians aren't really supposed to be, just outside of St. Peter's Square, she finds the walls convenient for slowly feeding telecrystals into her PDA and assembling a stack list of heavy requisitions, and no doubt soon for shielding the tourists milling around behind her from the shitstorm of bullets that will shortly be coming up. She's just waiting for Janine's go-ahead to give her usual announcement, then begin.
Forte	In this life as well as the previous one, Forte's artistic experience has always been lacking. And on some level he still doesn't get the whole point of it. Still. As with most other things in his post-exile life, he makes An Attempt. "Ahh," he says, slightly muffled, when introduced to the statues. "Oooh," he says, seeing artwork and artifacts. This is Appreciating Art. Is he doing it right? He doesn't actually show genuine interest until he starts digging into the context of what he's seeing - whether by explanations or by reading pamphlets and plaques. At that point it's appreciating history, not art, and Forte seems to have more of an appetite for learning the technical details of Michelangelo's stonecarving style than he does for appreciating a pretty statue. He has a genuinely good time, which is happening more often in his life these days. It's a nice change. It's taken the better part of two years, but he's getting there. But - enough personal growth for Forte, and time to see to the personal growth for someone else. Specifically, seeing to it that that person stops growing and starts decomposing. "I'll start on the radio right away," he says, walking off in that direction. Walking, not floating. "Do not die or mess up your parts." His plan is, roughly, to find an access point into the radio tower's network... get into it, and start selectively corrupting it. Very selectively, in subtle ways. Wiping out authentication codes and hashed password directories is a start. Delete key files in the system directories - the ones that handle error message handling, making everything yet harder to diagnose. Change the compatibility list so that parts of the system are complaining that other parts aren't updated to software versions that don't exist yet. And as the cherry on top, he'll go to add the world's local version of stackoverflow to the router's block list.
Karlan Nobles	Pramanix: "The hose?! Geh... Th-that's why we're warning you about it ahead of time!" SilverAsh: "It wouldn't hurt to remind our allies beforehand anyway. We don't want anyone catching a cold and blowing their cover with a sneeze." Pramanix: "Fine, fine. It'll be after we finish sightseeing, then." Pramanix seems satisfied enough with that warning waaaay ahead of time, but SilverAsh just shrugs and gives Liza something vaguely resembling an apologetic look without saying another word about that. Their focus instead shifts to Janine's explanation of the reason for this mission, and that has Pramanix stroking her chin lightly. Pramanix: "Can they really just do that? If a high-ranking member was to do something terrible, I'm sure the head would... Should have done something concrete to fix the problem instead of simply hiding it, right?" SilverAsh: "Should isn't the same as did, si.. Pramanix." Pramanix: "No, I guess not... But at least the members back home aren't so corrupt." SilverAsh: "Not those that are still around, no." Pramanix: "... What does that mean?" SilverAsh: "Shall we get going, then? I've heard many things about the catacombs, and it'd be a shame to miss it before we begin." Pramanix: "Don't dodge the question again!" SilverAsh totally dodges that question the entire time they're off to visit the Basilica, Pramanix's annoyance eventually subsiding thanks to the sheer amount of stuff Janine's showing everyone once they're there. A lot of the symbols are largely lost on them initially, but they can certainly appreciate the craftsmanship on display! Pramanix even takes a (no flash) picture of the Pieta and the Chair, but she otherwise actually remains on pretty good behavior throughout. Sadly, they don't get a chance to see the tombs, but knowing that it's there is good enough for this first visit. For now, it's time to finish preparations. "I'll give you all a heads up once I'm ready to start calling the snow down down." Pramanix reassures the group, notably keeping an eye on Liza while not-so-subtly making sure SilverAsh is positioned between them. "No reinforcements, no chance of escape. It all still feels a little... Morbid, but if it means being able to finally fix things here, I'll do what I can." Once it's go time, the pair break off to scout out the area around the heliport first. Rather than just dancing unprompted in the middle of the street with a bell ringing rhythmically/incessantly, however, they go for something a little more appropriate for the time of year. While Pramanix starts dancing in the middle of the street with a bell ringing rhythmically/incessantly, SilverAsh starts soliciting people passing by for donations to charity. All the while, snow starts to fall all around the heliport and then some. It starts off slow at first like some kind of Christmas-y movie thing and quickly becoming worse overhead for anyone who doesn't have a strap on their hats and a good grip on the umbrellas they might not even have.
Rita Ma	"Oh, right," Rita says distantly when Liza's voice takes on that quality, more to herself than anyone else. "That's what Ms. Lotus reminds me of." Rita wavers for a moment. Of course splitting up is the rational choice; she knew that before she asked, even if she'd rather not leave Liza's side. This next decision is harder. "That leaves me with the bank or the palace," she says thoughtfully. We're going to be killing the Pope either way. But which is more important to an organization: its resources, or its leadership? "Their influence is defined by money," she finally decides. "They'll have some assets I can't burn down, but... however much I can starve them for, that'll shrink the amount they're able to hurt people, right?" Out of the Basilica, her plan involves finding a patch of soft ground near the bank with few observers. At Janine's go ahead, she reaches into her own mouth with two fingers to pull out one of her monstrous teeth by force, and then stomps it to bury it into the dirt point-first. It'll be too big for me to search it all by myself. I don't like doing this at all, but... I'll need the Cycle of Tears again. After a few moments, numerous hand-sized skittery creatures with hard exoskeletons begin to dig themselves out of the dirt and surreptitiously slip into the bank, navigating through air ducts, maintenance shafts, or just squeezing under doors in employee-only areas to permeate wherever they can without being noticed. They particularly seek out alarm buttons and areas where the valuables themselves could be held.
Janine Liberi	The mission begins. Janine splits off and finds a quiet place with plenty of high walls as cover to take to the air. Given how bad the weather is, no one is trying particularly hard to get the sky in their pictures. However, a lot are taking pictures of the Pope's residence, especially the balcony he sometimes appears from, so she has to time it to peek inside. "Okay, he's not in his home. Let's do this." Forte finds the radio systems easy to access and mess with. People all over Rome listening to it find their speakers squawking white noise as the signal distorts. The radios of the Swiss Guard also begin acting up, forcing them to turn it off so as to not bother tourists. The IT team within the studio scrambles to figure out what is going on, but none of them are prepared for an attack like this. Pramanix puts on a show to start the snowfall, and SilverAsh disguises it as a show for charity. He gets a lot of donations, mainly because someone as imposing as him 'suggesting' that you donate sounds like a threat. But eventually, a couple of Swiss Guard wander over. "Excuse me sir, ma'am," they say in a thick Italian accent. "You can't really solicit donations here, especially with a, ah... pagan kind of ritual dance. Please move along and file a request to do this at another time." Rita sends a bunch of tiny buds into the bank. It's not really a normal bank that people would keep money in. It handles the finances of Vatican City essentially, which are presently valued at approximately 2.93 billion Euros. It's pretty well-guarded, with internal security and some of the Swiss Guard at the doors checking IDs for those who go in. There are indeed several alarm panels, as well as regular fire alarm switches. It's not obvious to the ones scurrying around the floors, but one who infiltrates the air shafts finds one leading underground. There's an old vault down here, and probably all kinds of goodies behind it. Liza gets ready. From her position in the square, she could absolutely blow her way into the barracks through the wall. This place is gorgeous, but not exactly built to resist breaching charges. Janine's call comes in through the radio. It's time.
Rita Ma	Rita is still oblivious (for the moment) to the findings of her skittery minions, but none of it would surprise her. She waits for an employee to leave, walks right by them, uses an invisible tentacle to pickpocket their ID, and transforms herself into a visually-perfect copy of them without breaking stride. I can't talk like this or my voice will give me away. They just saw the original leave a minute ago, too. What can I do to explain coming back? ... Oh, right. Rita, in her bank employee disguise, walks back towards the guarded door with an impatiently brisk stride. She pats her empty pockets restlessly and rolls her eyes in exasperation, the perfect picture of someone who's left their phone at their desk. On passing the guards, she flashes her ID- of course it's the genuine article- and continues further in without stopping to converse. She keeps walking, and keeps exuding the aura of someone in a very impatient and unpleasant mood, until she reaches some quiet hallway where there aren't any eyes on her. Then she levitates a few inches off the ground, her long hair swaying in zero gravity, and her body flickers to turn translucent and purple, reflecting the light of an otherworldly star. Thanks for letting me eat this part of you, Ms. Grier. You're really too good to me... Dimly, she registers the life-forces of everyone in the building- a nebulous crowd of human beings, and the smaller pinpricks of her own minions. One of them is almost straight down. That piques her curiosity. She dives downwards through concrete and steel like a ghost, drawn magnetically towards the pawn's heart. When she reaches it, its tiny life is snuffed out on contact with her ravenous body, turning it immediately to dust. Its memories of skittering through the air ducts flood back to Rita at the moment of its death. Back aboveground, the monster 'respawns' and tears its way out of the dirt where she planted the tooth; it's still a skittering arthropod, black-plated with shimmering gems between the scales, but it's now the size of a small dog. It, too, skitters back in to infest the bank. Thus the Cycle repeats. But that's not Rita's concern. Waking herself from the brief fugue of reclaimed memories, she flickers back into corporeal solidity, blinks, and looks around. Where is she? And why is it important?
Forte	As a final bit of quiet showing off, Forte uses a zero-day exploit to set up an arbitrary code viral bomb using a PDF reader by passing data between the OCR reader and the compression algorithm*, and drops the payload pdf in a documents folder labeled 'System Recovery Instructions.pdf'. With that final touch done, he returns to the real world - and moves a bit faster, seeing if he can make it to the archives in time before everyone needs to meet up for the next phase...
Karlan Nobles	SilverAsh indeed carries the energy of someone that speaks with a well-practiced and pleasant tone as he's preparing to target people for removal by a looming cleaner, but he sadly doesn't have anyone else in his pocket today. Pramanix notices some of that vague discomfort from people passing by, and she even stage-whispers at him every now and then. Pramanix: "Psst. Hey. Lighten up. We don't want to get the wrong kind of attention!" SilverAsh: "It will be fine. See, here they come now." Pramanix keeps her expression completely stone-faced as she keeps her ritual going, leaving the matter of sweet-talking the Swiss Guard away to SilverAsh as she keeps that snowfall going and intensifying by the second. Her own steps are unimpeded, of course, even though the floor around her is visibly wet already. It's just not building up actual snow there like it is everywhere else. "Good day, gentlemen. Please, rest assured. We've made all the necessary arrangements to work here well ahead of time." SilverAsh greets them in a smooth baritone, bowing lightly with one hand across his waist while approaching them. As he speaks and leans forwards slightly with imposing hot tall man energy, he discreetly slips each of them a small stack of bills totaling to 5000 Euro for each guard. "I'm certain you'll find everything's in order, good sirs. That said..." He glances around briefly, then gestures waaay down over in the distance. "I /did/ hear there was an anti-Catholicism demonstrating happening further down that way, if you'd like to catch the culprits red handed." He says 'Catholicism' with the inflection of someone that's clearly never actually said it before.
Liza Grier	Liza gets the call. That's it then. She executes the stack of command queues in her disguised PDA. The entangled quantum essence of dozens of expensive telcrystals is collapsed and snuffed out all at once, each precious gem of woven energy cracked, siphoned, spent, and ejected, in such rapid succession that it's like a machine gun spitting brass. Rapid streaks of teleporter light cut through the blizzard like glowing rain, diffusing into the snow as ominous crimson flashes on the horizon. There's no hiding that, so she just gets it out of the way all at once. The barrage of teleporter strikes land either right on top of her or closely adjacent, splashing into a dozen different glowing silhouettes that swiftly resolve into a small armoury of machinery. Her hardsuit materializes on her, as does an entire pre-packed utility harness of ammunition, tools, and explosives. Several weaponry pods crunch the cobbles around the block, popping their lids and offering up electronically authenticated firepower at a touch. Briefcase devices are thrown around and manually activated to create a four way intersection killzone at the heart of the northeastern quadrant, featuring small, squat microturrets, translucent (and swiftly frozen) chemical spills, basic tripwire explosives, gas ampoules she carefully rolls under cars and pops through windows, and grape-sized area sensors stuck around blind corners, quickly populating her HUD radar. A football-like nuclear device --in fact simply unscrewed from a warhead-- is immediately authenticated using a blackhat hack, and daringly magnetized to her back, where it will stay until even an EOD specialist would sweat to absolutely make sure it isn't disarmed. Her optics flare menacingly in the foggy cold, then dull to a barely visible green glow, switching her over to thermals. "This is Liza Grier of the Syndicate and Watch Nuclear Strike Ops, and I declare war on the Vatican. You have twenty minutes to surrender your weapons and evacuate civilians. All armed security will be exterminated on sight. There will be no negotiation. There will be no escape. Once twenty minutes have elapsed, this area will be levelled by a fifteen kiloton nuclear explosion. I suggest not being here when it is." True to her word as always, Liza remains completely inert at any scramble of civilians in the area, simply remaining concealed in the old and baroque arches in the snowy bad weather, watching her sensors and HUD to map the movement of the guard and gendarmes. Once she identifies 'people with weapons' moving in, she responds immediately with maximum lethal force.
Liza Grier	The turrets are as visible and easy to hit as RC cars in this blizzard, but have no trouble picking out warm human bodies against the frigid background, two at each corner spraying accurate small-calibre fire into armed personnel from afar. Breaking the ice on the chemical spills --which now look like any wet ice-- immediately releases clouds of acidic and toxic fumes on the unfortunate. The first few to run into translucent tripwires in the blizzard are inevitably blown to kingdom come by grenades placed by an expert guerilla. Once those run out, Liza takes turns selectively gassing streets in order, focusing on different chokes while the gas is to her back and enemies can't flank her. Given her sensor suite, radar coverage, and the ability to pick out the sweating animal heartbeats and warm blood in the blizzard, she has a tremendous information advantage, which she uses to move through the area like a ghost, watching the map more than her actual path, flanking and outmaneuvering enemy troops in in the white, and gunning down ranks she can't even see with her eyes, quickly expending her magazines and then disappearing into the frozen urban clutter again. Wherever she is pursued, she uses her grapnel wire and triple jumps to scale out of alleys and skip over building blocks, then circle around again without leaving footprints. Well-placed grenades are hurled into packs wherever anyone huddles up. Those who get lost alone or in pairs are suddenly cornered in alleys and cut to pieces with an energy sword. Those who go for her turrets or traps are still falling for a lure, as they're placed out where the would-be disarmer is stuck out in the open and easily shot. She has ample cover to work with, and most of what the enemy has to shoot back against is her muzzle flash. The shots that are lucky enough to find her simply flare off her suit's energy shield, which quickly recharges when she breaks off and maneuvers again, allowing her to attack again and again and again, whittling enemy numbers without suffering damage herself. The conditions, between Pramanix, Janine, and the architecture, are perfect. And the bomb timer ticking away the whole time means that the smart tactical choice of huddling up in a defensive formation and covering all approaches is pointless; she'll simply sit out of range until it's time for the bomb to wipe them all out. They have to chase her.
Janine Liberi	The Swiss Guard smiles sympathetically at Rita as she passes in disguise. Truly a relatable moment. Once inside, it's easy to find a quiet place to phase through the stone into that underground area. It's pitch black inside, but no trouble for one who is evolved to live in the dark of the ocean. Within is a gallery of art, sorted into racks. Within is bars of gold, stamped in a language Rita doesn't understand. Within is ancient records of agreements between dying or long-dead men and Church representatives. Rita lacks the context, but this room is certainly a store of wealth both physical and not. Destroying it might be good, but revealing it might be even better. It's so hidden it must be something they don't want revealed. Outside, SilverAsh shows his generosity, his Christmas spirit. A real true believer would cast that money aside and cast these two from this temple. These two are not true believers. "Well, thank you for the tip sir. Have a Merry Christmas," one says, the both of them heading off towards the 'demonstration.' The snow falls thick now, and people are looking up with delight. This could mean a truly White Christmas. And then Liza's declaration goes out. There's confusion first, and then panic. People begin rushing to escape, only to see Liza there. When she doesn't move against them, they run past. The Swiss Guard begin to arrive, dressed ridiculously in their Reinassance-based uniforms, but bearing rifles and sub-machine guns. Most of them have only received basic training from the Swiss Armed Forces, but those in charge are better trained. As Liza fades, pulling them into guerilla tactics through the dense alleys, they try to learn their lessons. But they're just grossly unprepared for this level of urban and chemical warfare. The cries of pain and bloody coughs begin to fill the air along with the screams of the panicked. Meanwhile, as Forte makes for the library, they spot a figure clad in white robes being ushered along by several guards. They turn and regard him suspiciously as Janine suddenly shouts through the radio. "Pope is coming out of the library! Stop him Forte!"
Forte	Forte hesitates - for just a moment. Half a moment. Still a hesitation. The library is right there. It's full of banned books, unique copies, all sorts of things - of data all properly categorized and stacked up together. And even with the Moon Cell mitigating his gnawing hunger, he still feels drawn towards it. Later. He'll go after it later, if there's time. The pope's there. So are the guards. The untested guards - the wrong connotation of untested. Weak, or outrageously competent, was the descriptor, with no inbetweens. He has the drop on them - but only initially, until they realize who he is and what he's there for. So. Best to make a maximized impact with the first strike. "Autonavi slot in," says Forte, hurriedly, invoking his internal systems with the command. "Gigantimax wildcard, loading. Charge Shot X, execute!" He extends a hand towards them. It grows. It grows, and it reshapes itself as it grows - both actions tearing apart the flimsy jacket he'd been wearing to hide his true nature. Forte braces himself against the ground for a moment as his hand continues to grow - and then he realizes this is needless, with the charade passed, and lets his feet leave the ground, resuming his default of effortlessly floating - which he needs to, as the gigantimax'ed hand continues to grow and reshape itself, forming the signature arm cannon of a Mega Man from a world not his own. It continues - once shaped, still, growing, energy gathers inside of the armcannon, a large mass of light that leaks from the barrel and the seams, like shoving a bright lantern inside of a flimsy crate. Forte aims - a process that involves him physically moving while leaving the massive armcannon in the same spot, since that's easier and faster than the reverse - trying to get a decent firing angle that'll catch as many of the targets in the blast as possible, with the white-robed man in the center of his sights. At this point, one might be tempted to say some pithy one-liner like 'Congratulations, you get to meet god early' or a sardonic comment about smoke and chimneys or, if one is so inclined, something cheesy like 'This is my body, breaking yours in rememberence of thee'. Lots of options, if you're so inclined. Forte is not. He just pulls the trigger without a single word spoken.
Rita Ma	Rita's tentacles begin to luminesce, casting a blue glow over the dark room. She looks around, eyes widening and jaw dropping in awe. This much wealth concentrated in such a small place is almost- but not quite completely- foreign to her. It makes her feel sick. The gold can be destroyed, if I can just figure out how. The paintings... I'd like to save them, but they weren't doing anyone any good down here anyway. But the documents might be important. How am I going to get those out? Her gaze turns back to the air vent her insectoid spawn found its way in through originally. Just then, Liza Grier makes her 'declaration'. Rita's eyes widen briefly in shock, then narrow again in determination. Right. I've got it. All throughout the bank, her scuttling minions self-destruct in a wave of sharp, localized detonations that cripple the alarm system. Their memories and experiences flood back into Rita as they 'respawn' at the spot where the tooth was buried. Numerous terrier-sized chitinous creatures tear themselves out of the earth, along with one now easily the size of a wolf. The largest, and a handful of its kin, are dispatched to help Liza Grier. They take a mostly passive role, skulking through gas clouds or lurking atop buildings, waiting to pounce and savage anyone trying to take advantage of her blind spot. When Liza fades back to let her shields recharge, they shriek in unison and become more active harriers until she takes the fore again. (Liza really doesn't need it, but it makes Rita feel better to be helping!) The bulk of them, though, are still small enough to fit in the vents. That's exactly what Rita uses them for: a flood of dozens pour out of the air vent into the basement vault, each one grabbing documents in its hexapodal foreclaws and then scurrying back up with a precious payload of paper. Many hands make for light work, and it isn't long until they're ferrying their precious paper cargo up to SilverAsh. It'll be slightly alarming for the poor man to see dozens of paper-ferrying oversized arthropods swarming him, but it is quite efficient. That's all for the documents. Now to destroy what's left.
Karlan Nobles	That settles that, then! With the threat of getting shooed away neutralized with the power of MONEY, Pramanix is free to focus her efforts on getting the heliport thoroughly befuckened with freezing snow and ensuring that visibility up there is horrendous for anyone desperate enough to risk a flight anyway. When they hear Liza's declaration, that forces the pair to adjust their approaches. Well, it forces Pramanix to adjust her approach as she controls the snowfall to linger almost entirely on the rooftops themselves rather than blasting the helipad and the streets indiscriminately with white dust. With those panicking civilians already looking for a way out, Pramanix redirects the wind to carry some of that snow off the streets in order to provide a clearer escape path. "Go! Don't push, and take whoever you can away from here! The light of Karlan will protect you so long as you escape now." Soldiers, meanwhile, get the full blizzard treatment. It might at least make them feel a little less terrified before Liza removes them from existence unexpectedly, at least, and it also has the additional benefit of making it easier for Pramanix to not see any of it. Should anyone get too close, meanwhile, SilverAsh is still ready with his cane-sword on hand to eviscerate them with a lot of unnecessarily flashy swings. Until/unless that happens, SilverAsh is left to handle the radio for the pair. <<"We have the heliport covered, and the locals are escaping. Once Forte has secured the target, we will make our escape as well.">> He glances over at Pramanix as she keeps that snow-calling ritual going, then raises an eyebrow when Rita mentions papers. <J-IC-Scene> Rita Ma says, "Does anyone have really big pockets?" <J-IC-Scene> Liza Grier says, "Why?" <J-IC-Scene> Rita Ma says, "I have a lot of important papers here. I feel like we should take them instead of burning them." <J-IC-Scene> Rita Ma says, "I can get them to you; you just have to carry them out at the end." <J-IC-Scene> Karlan Nobles \| SilverAsh says, "At the bank?" <J-IC-Scene> Forte says, "Firing." <J-IC-Scene> Rita Ma says, "That's where I found them. But I can get them to you anywhere." <J-IC-Scene> Rita Ma says, "I'll just send them to Ms. Liberi, then." <J-IC-Scene> Karlan Nobles \| SilverAsh says, "Understood. My coat should be enough to hide quite a number of them." <J-IC-Scene> Rita Ma says, "Oh! Okay." Before he can bring it up, Pramanix is already nodding and gesturing at SilverAsh to regroup with Rita. SilverAsh hesitates for a moment, then nods and is about to start running in the direction of the bank when Rita mentions not being scared of something. He starts to reassure her, then drops his radio on the ground while he hunches over in a combat-ready stance as the swarm of arthropods approaches. Thankfully, he doesn't go immediately into slashing murder mode, but instead pauses for another moment upon spotting the papers. He gets ready to take them by hand, then freezes up when they just start crawling all over him. On the plus side, it does get the papers into his coat really quickly and efficiently. It just also has him breaking his pokerface really hard, much to Pramanix's mixed delight and terror.
Rita Ma	The art is easy. How do you destroy gold, though? If I dissolve it with acid, they'll just do chemistry to separate it back out, won't they? ... No, I know how. Rita holds out her hand, and a hollow tentacle unravels from around her arm to gush a broad high-pressure jet of water. Even as large as the room is, it starts filling up alarmingly quickly: knee-deep, then waist-deep, and soon full enough for Rita to swim in. She doesn't stop until the water covers even the highest shelves, submerging art and gold alike. This had better work. A different tentacle unravels, this one glowing cyan with its horrible chemical payload. Genod's acid is diffused into the water, harmless to Rita herself but brutally attacking everything else: paintings, statues, the concrete floor and walls, even the gold bars. The water turns cloudy, and then finally muddy-opaque with billions of dollars in ruined chemical solution. Then the water level drains, just as rapidly as it had filled. That hollow tentacle from before is joined by its symmetrical twin in drinking down the artificial lake Rita had created, gold-paint-concrete solution and all. When she's done, all that's left is scarce droplets of dishwater-gray water dripping from the chewed-up walls and pooling on the acid-eaten floor. Rita gags, retches, doubles over, and covers her mouth, still thoroughly sopping wet. "Euuuuuuhhhh... I'm going to be sick," she groans. "Maybe Ms. Grier can get the gold out later, at least." Another quick ghostly jaunt sacrificing one of her minions (they get better, don't worry) brings her back up to the surface, ready to rejoin everyone else for the next objective. Just as soon as the taste of concrete-shake stops making her feel nauseous. Any minute now.
Liza Grier	"Well, it was going to be either 'top secret company black-ops death squad' or 'who would attack the pope?'. Guess I lucked out." Liza mutters to herself from behind a parked vehicle now riddled with bullet holes. All but two of the turrets are out of ammo, all the tripwires have been used, and all four gas corridors have cycled. Even these rookies will have figured out by now which approaches are simply no longer armed, however terrified they may be of approaching the corpses of their comrades. She takes a moment to pet the skittering horror for covering her. Checking the belt feed in the SAW she'd pulled out of the fifth weapon pod, she finds less than twenty rounds still left, and ditches it, simply moving on to the sixth up high and retrieving the anti-materiel rifle. The timer in the corner of her HUD doesn't have much left on it. She hears the call-out over the radio. Automatically and thoughtlessly, she checks Forte's IFF, drops to her stomach on the rooftop, flicks the bipod, settles the barrel over the edge, switches to x20 magnification, and sights his increasingly massive thermal signature. "I have it on this end. Looks like the army isn't rushing in when they know they have no time left. Pull out. Rita, to me." Liza says. "Forte; stay back five meters. Three seconds." Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale halfway, and hold. Line up with the guards. "Four hundred and fifty meters. Slightly less than half a second of flight time. Aim four meters up. Wind at fifty kay-pee-haych. South-southwest. Deflect right." Squeeze the trigger slowly, tenderly. Forget the wall is even there. Liza's last realistically helpful action before slamming her pocket nuke down like a football touchdown, grabbing whoever she needs to, and teleporting out, is to put four gratuitously oversized, wall-piercing rifle shots through the library from outside, into the guards blocking Forte from his target.
Janine Liberi	The vault door does its job. The room does not leakw ater as Rita floods it, seeping acid to break it all down, and then swallowing it all. It tastes nasty, obviously. But the room is cleared, and the papers preserved. The new lack of evidence might pose an issue in the future, but this isn't going to court. The Watch knows, and that's all they need. The civilians and fleeing staff of the Vatican appreciate the guidance of Pramanix and SilverAsh as they escape. These Catholics might have a new faith once all this is done. The papers, if examined, reveal details on a bunch of agreements going back to 1944 and 1945. Agreements between rich and influential Germans and the Vatican to quietly shelter said Germans as the end of the Second World War loomed. That the Church took money from Nazis would be devastating indeed. The Swiss Guard protecting the Pope have pistols, which they draw and point at Forte. But the massively growing arm, and the gigantic cannon that forms, causes morale to break. They turn, attempting to guide their charge away, when the shot fires and they instead push him to the ground. Before they too can take cover, Liza's shots ring out. Two are pierced through the chest and go down instantly. A third was unluckly enough to lower his skull into the line of fire, and his head erupts. The fourth takes it in the shoulder and pirouettes. As the blast scorches the earth and the smoke clears, the Pope remains. Having been shoved clear of the shot, he lays prone, rapidly praying in Italian. Janine descends to pick him up, holding her sword to his throat. "God, please, forgive these misguided children," he stammers. Janine's brow furrows. "You should be asking for forgiveness yourself. All that stuff about Jesus sacking the market in the temple, and you sit on all this wealth. To what end? You can't take it with you." Rapid justifications start coming out. "To pay those who shepherd the flock," "To preserve the priceless art," and so on. Janine isn't really listening. One of the Swiss guards who survived being sniped in the shoulder raises a gun and points it at her while she's distracted. A gunshot rings out.
Vaxis	"Bang." The revolver shot flies, piercing the skull of the Swiss Guard. The voice is familiar, but in all the chaos, it's hard to get a real read on what happened until one actually turns and takes a look. Short red hair, of a distinct color, and piercing green eyes mark the main remarkable features of the young man holdinlg the revolver. He's wearing a grey hoodie jacket, hood down, holding the revolver in one hand with such a plain sense of skill that it's clear he's done this before. After giving anyone there a chance to look, the gun is scanned over any remaining guardsmen, even if they're down. "Sorry I'm late. The cavalry's here." August Kohler says with a sigh and a lopsided grin, as he quips. "You need me to shoot him too, Janine? Or you've got it covered?" A pause. "Wait, damn, that's a terrible way to reunite. Hi, Janine! You need me to shoot him too?"
Rita Ma	More and more awful monsters are digging themselves out of the earth to hunt down remaining guards and officials, most now the size of wolves, one or two bipedal with long scything fingers and standing taller than a man. What started as a swarm of bugs has rapidly become the kind of problem you uproot with bombs and flamethrowers; fortunately, Liza's nuke is poised to cut the Cycle of Tears short. Rita herself sprints over rooftops, leaping from one to another with superhuman agility and seamlessly dropping onto all fours for extra speed when she thinks no-one's looking. She only stops for two things: first, to shout a panicked "MISS LIBERI!" when the wounded guard raises his gun, too far below for her to intervene. Second, for her to stare at August's face for just a little too long when he reappears, eyes wide in shock for more reasons than the obvious. She catches herself staring after a moment, shouting down "Please hurry!" before resuming her mad sprint. A few leaps later and she lands hard next to Liza, cracking the stone underfoot. She glances over her friend for injuries, then sighs in obvious relief when there are none. "I got everything, Ms. Grier! Let's go!"
Janine Liberi	Silence. Janine's attention on the Pope is shattered entirely. "August?! Why are you... you said..." Her shock is only numbed by the knowledge of the nuclear bomb slowly ticking down. "Ugh, we'll talk later. Everyone, I've got the Pope. I... leaving him as a blasted corpse doesn't send much of a message. Evac now." Catherine emerges, and wraps the old man in threads. She takes to the sky and blasts off into the horizon as the clock ticks down. The Elites all escape, and the surrounding parts of Rome are cleared. The nuke goes off, and centuries of wealth, architecture, and culture vanish in a ball of flame. The shockwave caves in the walls, and the stone statues are scorched and flung away to shatter. Gold and bronze and other metals melt to nothing. Bank records evaporate, ancient books reduced to ash. In a single blast, the smallest country in the world is nothing but rubble.
Karlan Nobles	Later, once everything is said and done, Pramanix and SilverAsh will indeed do some research on these papers Rita acquired to figure out what their significance is. They're still unfamiliar with history outside of their own world, after all, but they should pick it up quickly enough! Once SilverAsh is satisfied that his coat doesn't have more of Rita's things in it, anyway. For now, however, their attention eventually shifts towards what they can hear coming from the library in the distance. Pramanix, true to her word, stays on her snow-calling and guiding duty simultaneously, using gusts of wind and waves of snow overhead to help lead people towards safety and most definitely away from the site of Liza's bomb. Janine confirms that the Pope is secured, and a stranger's voice comes on over the radio. She tells them that he's an old ally, and more importantly... The choice of whether or not the Pope should live past today comes up. Pramanix states her vague hopes of the Pope actually doing something worthwhile with a second chance, and SilverAsh likewise gives his own thoughts in just icing the guy out of practicality. They're probably not going to be too useful here.