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Calvin Nash	Now that Ossabaw Island has its own warpgate, there's no need to take Devonte's ferry there from Keller/and-or Richmond Hills unless you really want to. Your destination today is neither the bar on the edge of town (the Last Resort) nor the restaurant simply called the Place, but a very old-looking Spanish colonial style mansion a ways down the road from 'downtown.'      Shaded by the long, winding, moss-heavy boughs of ancient oaks, this red brick, clay-shingle roofed mansion is certainly the oldest building on the island. The look of it says it was old even before the war. It would have been opulent back then--now it's palatial, even with a few windows boarded up here and there. Statues of the island's native hogs recline on a decyaing brick pathway to the entrance, patched up with crushed oystershells and littered with leaves. Though ivy clings to the walls in places, the mansion is very much alive with activity. BGM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DsHiBLLqdlM     It's been converted into a municipal government building for the island--Ossabaw's Demon Marshals make their headquarters here, as do the island's utility workers and its social welfare apparatus. The courtyard is accordingly abuzz with activity, and there's even a more recent building (one of the few not built on a mound) on the land serving as a motor pool for the Marshals' tiny fleet of working trucks.     One of those trucks appears to be enshrined with something like a position of honor: its grille is transparently a wooden fence held to the chassis and the radiator by a rusty chain, while brake fluid rests in a whiskey bottle, which can clearly be seen because there's no hood. Also necessarily on display are the tactically melted-and-hammered-down plastic trash can serving as a reservoir for transmission fluid, a tin can of unknown purpose, and a dented, chrome-stripped bugcatcher atop the engine block. A wooden sign hung from the chains on the grille reads "UGLY," giving the truck a name, and a heart is burned benath the name.     Calvin awaits you in uniform, chewing away at some ginger.     "How y'all doin'? Right this way."      By far, it's the busiest place on the island, with people coming and going like a microcosm of the community's arteries; some are quite hurried with an urgent bounce in the step, while others make more steady, confident strides, but everyone here is moving with purpose regardless of pace. The inside of the fifteen-bedroom (yes, Calvin affirms you heard him right) house is one half time capsule and one half nerve center.
Calvin Nash	He guides you through varnished hardwood hallways, past scurrying welfare agents, utility workers, Marshals and demon partners, past windows with motheaten stitched-up drapes and past photos of an old woman--the place's former owner, with long-dead governors and presidents and artists and musicians even a diploma certifying her as a witch's apprentice, dated 1972.      On the way to the Marshal office, some bastard has moved a creepy life-sized decaying mannequin around a blind corner so that anyone passing it (including Calvin) is jumpscared by her.     He chuckles after a utility worker spots him and point-laughs.     "Good one, Dana," he says.      "That's LuluBelle," explains Calvin. The mannequin was even in a couple of those photos. "We hide her around the house to scare the shit out of each other."      Finally, into the office proper, once known as the Great Room, probably for its size. Crumbling taxidermied animal heads flank a spacious chamber with a number of recently-built desks overlooked by a cracked and partially-boarded 12-by-14 foot plate glass window, and the larger desk set up in front of it. Calvin bends the brim of his hat towards very busy-looking woman with her black bun resting neatly above the collar of an overcoat hung on the back of a Jacobean chair.     "Director Moore."     "Marshal Nash."     Other Marshals look towards you all briefly from their work at individual desks, variously either sitting or crowding around them. A pot of coffee rests on an end table at the edge of a ratty Persian rug, surrounded by mason jars, wooden cups, mixed scavenged and handmade glazed clay jugs.      "And you must be the recovery team Marshal Nash told me about," says Director Moore evenly. She stands up from her desk and offers her ochre-brown callused hand to each of you in turn. "I'm Director Mintahoyo Moore. I'll keep pleasantries to a minimum and let Marshal Nash handle the brunt of the briefing--I have a lot on my plate. Let me assure you that we appreciate your assistance, regardless of your personal reasons for helping. With the current changing political climate, any additional food security we can have is a tremendous boon." She then nods to Calvin. "Marshal."     "Thank you, Director." Calvin strides over to his desk--and this is probably the most rigid any of you have seen him. Sliding open a drawer, he procures a yellowed map of Georgia, spreading it out and moving his personal effects (a smooth stone, a mug holding a few pencils, and what looks like a child's clay doll) to hold its corners flat.      A compass (the kind for drawing on maps) and an eraser come out next. "Here's the story," says Calvin, leaning over his desk. "We got word from a reliable source that there's a time capsule up near Atlanta that might have viable seeds in it. Now, some things we can already grow. But we get a lot of food from Canaan, and we ain't so friendly as we used to be. If that changes, we wanna be as ready for it as we can."      Calvin gently draws a circle using the compass around a point near Atlanta. "We try not to get too close to Atlanta unless we gotta. Big cities're dangerous; more demons there, 'specially at night. In this case, it's worth the risk to check it out, and with all of us there, we oughta pull through. We'll be takin' I-10 to get there, on account of our folks in the field spotted Mothman headed west, and Ms. Madeleine wants to contract with 'im. With me so far? Any questions 'fore I go on?"
Khosa	Khosa likes Ossabaw. Even she couldn't tell you exactly why. Something about the vibe of the people, or the determination to make a better home, or the tenacity for building even in the post-apocalypse. Maybe she likes the trees and the water. But whatever she likes, she likes, it's no surprise that she volunteered. She takes the warpgate though. The size of the manor, as she thinks of it, isn't remarkable to her. Noble's manors run that big or larger and she's seen plenty of those, though mostly from the outside. She's more taken by the statues and the vehicles. Khosa doesn't know a whole lot about trucks but she is *pretty* sure that the 'special' truck with the UGLY sign is not in great condition. She lingers by it for a moment to try to figure out why they're keeping it, gives up (she doesn't know enough about trucks and could not identify a rare one if you paid her) and keeps moving. "Marshal," she says, though the grin makes it a little less formal. "Good to see you again." Inside the manor, Khosa is actually got by the mannequin. Unfortunately her reaction to jumpscares is to yelp and then hit them, and she doesn't identify the mannequin as a mannequin at first but as some sort of weirdly-preserved undead; she restrains herself at the last moment, so LuluBelle remains un-struck, but she was clearly right on the edge. "Nice trick," she says through her teeth as she tries to cover for her near-blunder. She's still looking a little tense when she walks into the Great Room, but she forces it down when she meets the director (again), shaking firmly. "Sounds good to me," she says, leaning over to look at the map too. She catches the remaining corner with her thumb. "How big is the city?" Khosa asks, curiously, given questions are encouraged. "Or was, I guess. You don't use the same scale on maps I do, so I could be misreading it, but this looks like it's gotta be miles across. You could put a lot of demons in that..." "And is a 'time capsule' just old storage, or is it, uh, temporal magic?" Look, it's a stupid question but someone has to ask it. Khosa knows it's, by some standards, a very dumb question. But she persists: "If we're walking into a weird power zone I want to know about it first, is all." A pause. "Why Mothman?" she asks, though that question isn't for Calvin at all.
Angela	Captain Justin Rook of the Control Team is thrilled to get to be out there on missions now. His personality tests indicated that he would likely work well with Calvin Nash and having a relatively temperate personality suggested he could probably get along. The rest of the Control Team (minus Petra and Yuri) are with him too which means Random and Cinder are along for the ride today. Malkuth and Angela are sharing a datapad as well for the purposes of communication and keeping an eye on the Agents. "Why we're doing just fine, aren't we, Angela?" "Mm." Angela says. "Don't mind her." Malkuth says. "She's just angry becuase someone put her backpack into a tanukisuit and she's upset about it." Malkuth jumps in. "It is not ''just'' a backpack, Malkuth. It is a gift by which I can interact with the outside world. Nevertheless, we can leave that aside. I doubt the Marshal cares." Justin Rook looks like he's been hearing bits and pieces of conversations not unlike this for a while and seems positively exhausted already. He is, like many an SMT character, equipped with a rifle and body armor as well as a big club that's resting on his bag that has a giant skull with a crown of thorns on it as well as a cross at its head, which the giant skull is on. He should fit in perfectly well though the rifle and his body armor are both hot pink. Random, his vice-captain, is a blue-haired enby carrying a smaller mace albeit one with a strange snowglobe-esque head on it that seems to contain a galaxy in of itself. Their space themed EGO armor matches with a galactic pattern. And finally Cinder, well, everyone here's met Cinder before. "Lots of names to keep up with," Random murmurs. "To be honest I think we're still the reigning champs in that department." Cinder retorts. "Ssh. We've got a job to do. We'll wow them with proper discipline and effective strategems." Rook says, only glancing back to his two teammates briefly. ''Big cities're dangerous; more demons there.'' "Guessing these ones are less friendly." He glances to Madeleine before adding, "Naturally our priorities are to the Partners. But we'll do the best we can to fulfill both objectives." ''Why Mothman?'' "Traditional cryptid." Cinder suggests.
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine arrives at the Ossabaw warpgate dressed a little differently than usual. Instead of her standard hunting attire (insofar as vinyl leggings and a leather jacket over chainmail can be called such) she's wearing black-and-white checkered cargo pants, a black "I moth symbol MOTHMAN" crop-top, and a black bolero jacket with white accents to match the pants. Her usual backpack has been replaced with an ita-bag bearing pins depicting a number of different legendary creatures - she's dressed less like a cryptid huntress and more like a cryptid *fangirl*.     She saunters through town with nearly the confidence of Calvin himself, pausing at the entrance to the manor to admire the statues. "Oh, little piggies!" she exclaims. Something's got her in a good mood today. Couldn't possibly say what.     When she's finally shown to Calvin's desk, her first question is, predictably enough, about Mothman. "What's making a contract like? Do we have to sit down and do paperwork or is it more of a handshake agreement sort of thing? I mean, you can count me in either way, I'm not scared of a little form-filling. Just want to be prepared for when we meet the fella." Madeleine seems to be counting on a meeting as a certainty.     "Why Mothman?"     "You're askin' a lotta questions best answered by my *shirt*!" Madeleine says, grabbing at the bottom edge of the crop-top to show off its design. "Why, it's only the most famous cryptid this side of the Mississippi! That's a big river a few states west from here. But anyway. He's the one, the only, the *mothman*," she does jazz-hands to accentuate the creature's name, "and you don't know why? I'm surprised there isn't one on Athas, with all the giant bugs you've got!"
Angela	Cinder gestures to Madeleine's shirt like she, and the shirt, are united in purpose here. Rook sighs, presses his hand to his forehead, and shakes his head slowly.
Futaba Nuki	"Yo, Calv! Plenty of rides out here. You guys must've busted your asses to afford this many, huh?" Futaba sounds moderately impressed by the sight of so many trucks as she approaches Calvin, raising her hand in a lazy wave and grinning her usual no-thoughts grin. "UGLY's really looking tricked out, too. Does that belong to a vet or something?" She's wearing a longer white hoodie today with orange trim and long white rabbit ears on the hood itself, the usual black shorts and red sneakers, and... That's it? That's it. She's missing her usual red scarf. There's not even a different scarf in it's place, either. Following Calvin through the halls, Futaba keeps her hands tucked safely away in oversized pockets while watching all those various employees hurrying about the place. She occasionally turns to watch some of them on their way past, and she even flattens herself out a few times, and it's during one of those times that she runs right into the mannequin. The jumpscare has her jumping quite literally, shouting briefly before laughing once she realizes what happened. "Motherf... Heh. Sure did a good job on that one!" Still snickering a bit, she peers at the mannequin a while longer before filing that away in her head. There is no possibility she'll use this information for evil later. In the office, Futaba puts on a slightly more serious face as she raises her hand in another, stiffer wave to Director Moore. "That's right! Futaba Nuki, ninja, hero, chevalier of the Paladins. Good to meetcha, even with the circumstances bein' what they are." Quieting down as Calvin sets up the map and explains things, Futaba's eyes dart around the map as she looks at the area around Atlanta. "These time capsules're usually sealed, right? I'm wondering how... Uhh." A few finger snaps, to jar her brain. "... how far that word might've spread. You think Canaan's got any of their own folks aiming for those seeds, too?" She asks, pursing her lips for a moment before continuing. "And.. Are there any bigger threats besides demons we should be lookin' out for over there?" "Why Mothman?" "Like she said, Mothman's a cryptid over in all sorts of Americas." Futaba addresses Khosa with a quick nod at Madeleine and Cinder, peering at the latter two for a moment before sliding over to whisper to Khosa. It's not subtle, though, since she's extending her neck so she can get her head high enough to reach. "Psst. Not sayin' this is her reasoning, but I heard there's a real cheeked up statue of the guy that's real polished from everyone slippin' coins in there." She waggles her eyebrows suggestively, then pulls her head back down to its normal length. Very subtle.
Natsuki Nuki	Marshal Nash had fairly notably come all the way out to Osaka not once but several times now to mess around in Sotenbori and represent the Demon Marshals. The efforts weren't wasted before uncaring eyes, specifically - both times, Takeshi Nuki had observed and minded the pointed support of a ''human'' authority towards spiritual matters. The youngest of the Nuki minders of Sotenbori had passed along some of the most important details of the meeting up towards his scary sister, and then kicked back to continue the logistics of quietly helping both ends of his little sibling rivalry by going back to working on Futaba's festival preparations. The 'nuki knows his goofball sister doesn't have the mindset to sit her butt down and work. That, really, was what set them apart. Natsuki Nuki, summoned from her golden hater tower in Osaka by a mere human man with his thumbs confidently set behind the belt ridge of their pants to holster their hands at the fore, arrives at the meeting past the old grounds of the palatial property in opulent cut of black jacket over loose white collared shirt that's buttoned skew over knee length black skirt, white ruffled leggings, and black flat-heeled boots that appear mostly-untied. "Doing fine, Mister 'hey, ma'am'. Finally asking for help rather than wandering around trying to win favors? Even if it works, it feels..." Natsuki scoffs with rolling amusement. "... cheap? We could have worked something more mutually beneficial out without all this open call nonsense." Then, the humanoid-disguised chimera yokai - snake-headed tail swaying observingly behind her, tiger-button ears rotating subtly among her white-blonde hair - gets a good look at Khosa and her slit-pupiled red eyes widen and narrow. "Oh hey, never mind *Marshal*, the front door's just fine." 'Yo, Calv!' "... A mix of fine and frustrating, maybe." As they get the longer tour, the look of a cadaver getting a flat look as Futaba freaks all the way out, the yokaimera swings alongside Khosa, eyeing across. "How do you know that big yankee? Do you work with him often? Or do you just go around like 'Ms. Madeleine', looking to contract demons?" 'With me so far? Any questions 'fore I go on?' "Yes." Natsuki states firmly and clearly, used to having to get those out in a crowd before it gets waved through. "Is there something special about these seeds? And what does Ms. Madeleine mean, 'contract' with them? Take their power?"
Calvin Nash	OUTSIDE/ON THE WAY IN... You guys must've busted your asses to afford this many, huh?     Calvin swells with pride. "Ain't they a sight? Not a one of 'em's got all the original parts." UGLY's really looking tricked out, too. Does that belong to a vet or something?     "He was the first one we got workin', and he's bound and determined to be the last one to go. Belonged to my mama when she was a Marshal, and she kept 'im the whole time she was Director too. He's kinda the mascot for the Ossabaw Marshals." Nevertheless, we can leave that aside. I doubt the Marshal cares.     "Who in the hell would do that?" He'd already left by the time Sarracenia had done it... Finally asking for help rather than wandering around trying to win favors?     "Well, now, the Ghost Wall, that was work. And your sister, she's one of us. Paladins are stronger together than apart. Just like home. Speakin' of which, Futaba, we do need to have a talk about time management. Unless you want your brother to keep runnin' his damn mouth." INSIDE/BRIEFING Guessing these ones are less friendly.     "Yes sir--Captain Rook, right? Much less friendly. Bolder, meaner--more magnetite in them places, so they ain't so afraid to bow up." It makes sense--Calvin had said during one of the first visits to ossabaw that demons need magnetite to stay on Earth, and that 'killing' them destroys their physical shells, sending them back to the Expanse forcibly. If they can gorge themselves on a glut of energy, they have less reason to fear the cost of returning to Earth. How big is the city? Or was, I guess.     "Hundred square miles, give or take, if you're counting just the city. Technically on the small side for one of the old big cities, but a lotta people lived there, and a lot more in the parts 'round it."     He frowns. "Oglethorpe University's about a mile out from the city center. That puts it in the Light Damage Zone, if we're lucky. If we ain't," Calvin grunts and chews his ginger thoughtfully. "We might have to do some digging. And if we're real unlucky, it caught a stray and we gotta pack a lunch to get at it." If we're walking into a weird power zone I want to know about it first, is all.     "Good question." Calvin nods, looking up at Khosa from the map. "Far as we know, it's storage, but special-made so it lasts. Shouldn't be no magic involved--just an airtight bunker they made 'bout a hundred years ago."
Calvin Nash	You think Canaan's got any of their own folks aiming for those seeds, too?     Calvin shakes his head. "Doubt it," he says. "They got more food than anybody else in the States. *Libertalia* might. But the farthest east they are is Texas, so they'd be drivin' a damn sight longer'n we would." And.. Are there any bigger threats besides demons we should be lookin' out for over there?     "Bigger? No, uh-uh." Another shake of his head. "But that don't mean you can let your guard down just cause there ain't none around. The plan is to take I-10 far as we can." He traces the indicated highway west, then taps I-285 with his pencil. It's an interstate that circles Atlanta. "When the exchange happened, everybody sent off everything they had. A two-thousand warhead scenario, they called it in school."     "Atlanta took a handful. Every big city did. The city center's a cratered out graveyard and we're gonna avoid that damn near best we can," he says gravely. "But along the way, we're gonna have places we'll have to offroad, we might have to make a rest stop depending on how much time that adds. There ain't nobody living in a lotta the places along the way, which means wild animals, mold, and rotten wood and what have you. If we gotta stop, don't go off without somebody else, and try not to poke around in old buildings unless you really gotta."     "'Part from that, Fiends." He'd mentioned them at the Shadowed Tabernacle, and a few times on the radio. A certain type of demon about which the least is known, save for the drastic difference in power between Fiends and the average demon. Calvin grunts. "One of them comes up on us, you'll know it." He pats his COMP twice. Is there something special about these seeds?     "There is," says Calvin. "Climate changed 'cause of the bombs. And on top of that," he says, tapping an interstate first and then the water on the east of the map, "There's a lot of shit we just don't got no more on account of there ain't nobody to bring it in. These seeds could be stuff that's otherwise extinct. Heirloom plants and whatnot." What's making a contract like? Do we have to sit down and do paperwork or is it more of a handshake agreement sort of thing? And what does Ms. Madeleine mean, 'contract' with them? Take their power?     "Kinda-sorta, Ms. Natsuki. You seal the deal with emotional energy and they live in your COMP as data." He pats his own COMP. "That's short for Computer, but also for Compendium. COMP." He nods firmly.     "From there, you can summon 'em, and they'll fight with you, long as you pay what it costs to keep 'em on Earth. You make friends, they might let you, or even *ask* you to fuse 'em so they can become a different, stronger kind."     To Madeleine, more directly: "We got folks in Oklahoma workin' on a joint MCRD-Assembly research facility for you to use, so I'll make the contract and then pass you the DCM--that's Digital Compendium Memory--to use with that terminal and summon 'im without you havin' to lug a COMP around. They say the terminal'll offset the magnetite cost, plus some other stuff I didn't really understand. Oughta be finished inside of two weeks."     Turning his attention back towards the map, he elaborates a little further on how they'll be actually getting there. "285 woulda been our best bet for gettin' there fast, but it's shot to shit by now. So we're gonna have to turn off on State Road 54 right here," he says, tapping a tiny little capillary compared to the thick veins of I-10, 75 and 285. "And then cut around Atlanta proper best as we can 'long SR 23, 'til when we can either cut as the crow flies 'cross't this here park or nature reserve or whatever the hell it is, on to SR 13 and then Oglethorpe University."
Khosa	"Generally we don't put monsters on our shirts," Khosa replies, tugging the lower hem of her short open vest, as the bandeau-like top under it is not ameniable to tugging. "And I'm not saying there's not one. I've seen moths, little moths for silk - well, the worms, I don't think the moths make silk. But I *am* saying I've never seen one, and if I had I wouldn't be trying to make a contract with it." Futaba explains something to Khosa, and Khosa gets a sly grin. This makes sense more than Cinder's explanation. "Ah," she says. "Fair enough then." She doubts it's really the reason but she is absolutely going to hold onto that if she has to tease Madeleine about it later... though the way she's acting she won't have to go out of her way to find something. Khosa catches that look from Natsuki, isn't entirely sure what to make of it (though she can make some guesses) and matches it, thoughtful. The ears and tail don't seem to match, she thinks; there could be any number of reasons for that, but it does mark her as something apart. "A bit of the first. We've worked together and I like the place and the people," Khosa says, "but I'm not from here either. I've been around here a few times, though. I don't do anything with demons. Never even considered contracting with one or anything. I'm not sure I'd know what to do with one if I did, ha ha!" She'd be more likely to fight one. Calvin explains, and Khosa listens. A hundred square miles... "Big city," Khosa says, with a bit less confidence than she had before. "I guess you guys could spread out a little more, what with cars and things." Now she's thinking about logistics - both historic logistics (how did cities like that *work*?) and modern ones (how are they going to get around?) She knows that a lot of the wheeled vehicles are limited to roads, so they might have to get off and walk for a while. "I'm used to ruins in the wilds so I'll be all right there," Khosa says - not that she's totally safe but that she knows how to behave around old, falling-apart buildings and the animals that live in them. She's used to travelling through them. Though the demons are new. Normally she only has to do with psychic predators. "And good news: I'm real good at digging, if it comes to that. So I might be able to get into places that we otherwise couldn't. How big is the seed cache likely to be? Are we talking, like... size of a big jar? A box? A table?" Khosa is thinking about trying to maneuver something through tunnels. "If it's sealed up that good the air's gonna be bad inside, too, so we might have to wait to let it blow out a bit."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	The huntress listens to the account of the war's devastation, her expression bordering on grave. She's been around this part of the country plenty on other worlds, but none of them have been so... desolated. "Buddy system, stay outdoors, got it. To tell the truth I'm not excited to go so close to what's left of the city," she says, scratching her cheek in contemplation, "but if it'll get you your seeds and me my Mothman, it'll be worth the trip."     Madeleine nods along with Calvin's explanation of the contracting process and the ongoing MCRD-Assembly cooperation. "Radical. So I'm coming along to make an introduction and convince the fellow a contract's worthwhile, but you'll make the actual contract? Makes sense to me. I don't know if I'd want to fuse Mothman if that means he stops bein' Mothman, though... I guess we'll see what the guy wants, first."     She pores over Calvin's map, doing her best to memorize the highway junctions and the planned route to the university. "What kinda guy gets a name like 'Oglethorpe' and *keeps* it, is what I wanna know."
Angela	''Who in the hell would do that?'' Angela and Malkuth glance at each other, the singular eye whirring lightly as it it flicks in Angela's direction. Angela's own eyes make no such noise but she seems to be considering.... "Well he seems to care a little." Malkuth murmurs. "Sarracenia thought it would be funny to force the suit on the Eggpack." Angela explains. Angela, Malkuth, and Random are all taking notes as Calvin explains COMPs (again) but Lobotomy Corp seems particularly interested in the containment--and dealmaking--with demons. "I packed some bubblegum. It's lasting enough to chew on." Random says. "We've brought two days of supplies with us." Rook says, jerking a thumb towards a bag that Random's carrying. "I'm really good at starting campfires." Cinder adds, pulling her hands back from her very important jazzhanding towards Madeleine's shirt. None of them seem either worried or careless about this demon talk. There's a distinct sense that they're treating it as equivalent to their already dangerous dayjob. ''Much less friendly.'' "Was afraid you'd say that." Rook says. "Yeah, Captain Rook. Thanks." He normally wouldn't add the 'thanks' but lets just say he's had more adventures regarding his name than he'd like to get into. "They tough one on one or would it be more like a swarm?" ''Climate changed cause of the bombs.'' "Sounds like a Wing War..." Random murmurs. "...Yeah, this is definitely important to. We'll have to complte both missions if it's possible." "It does seem like a worthwhile mission. Random please bring me closer to the map." Random obediently takes the videopad over and lifts it up so Angela can get a good looksee. It's so much more detailed than The City map she has access to which basically just shows the various Districts and where they are. It sure would be more convenient, she thinks, if the City had maps more like this one. ''We might have to wait to let it blow out a bit.'' "Really? Does that happen for places that are sealed up a long time?" Cinder asks, eyes wide. "The facility has air filters! It's fine!" Malkuth answers too quickly.
Natsuki Nuki	Natsuki, rocking tiger-wrap oranges around darker tanuki browns, averages to a sort of golden tan that darkens at forearm and hand. Settled into the office at a lean, she brushes a finger through her falling forward white-blonde bangs and twirls a lock between thumb and forefinger. "You've got a lot of pride in this place. I can... sense it." It might be praise, but the hang is because she started with 'smell', and her finely tuned senses decided that telling the yankee that she could smell his pride was a terrible idea. So, instead, affecting mysterious priestess tone, the street fashion chimerette crosses leg over leg and arm over arm and smirks. 'And your sister, she's one of us. Paladins are stronger together than apart. Just like home.' "My condolences, then. She's more than one hand-full." Natsuki snipes in with the smooth flow of familial bickering. 'Speakin' of which, Futaba,' "I see you've met my sister." Natsuki distant-birdsong snickers, chirping merrily as Calvin carries on to 'support' her remind-Futaba-of-her-responsibilities routine and lifting loosely-held fist before lips and knuckle under nose to carry on with her gentle amusement. She has to leave it there, though, understanding after a bit of fun that Calvin's Paladin ally was the one they were making fun of, and there might be limits. She was much more interested in the Mul also in the meeting, stealing bold looks and offering vague smirky smiles towards the psion. "Monsters are plenty good material for shirts, or pants, or shoes, or even fancy gloves! You just need to prepare them correctly." Natsuki continues in her laughing state. "No, I know what you meant." She adds, refusing to be seen as uncool off-beat. It was important. For her brand. "I'm Natsuki." She introduces belatedly, primarily for Khosa's benefit, since she and the Marshal are already introduced. "This goofy Nuki's older sister." To punctuate, it is her tail 'nudge nudge!' pointing towards Futaba that's the physical indicator, as if to shove all blame towards the younger sibling with a vengeful jab of scales in-air. "But about this 'fusing', and even the concept of storing them 'as data'..." Natsuki returns to Calvin, thoroughly confused. "Is there more than one? If Madeleine makes a contract with this Mothman, and then," Subtly, Natsuki's eyes narrow. "Say, I take a trophy or take some of the demon's energy afterwards. What would happen? Would Madeleine's Mothman become weaker? This whole blackberry demonology is new to me - and I'm *quite* familiar with demonology!"
Futaba Nuki	OUTSIDE ". . . something more mutually beneficial . . ." "You sounded like Takeshi just now. Or does he sound more like you...?" Futaba asides to Natsuki as she straightens out her hoodie a bit, pulling the hood on and sticking her ears into it with a notable bulge at the base from how her ears don't really fit right. "Did he learn that from you, or...? Anyway. Lookin' good in that suit! You think I could pull off a look like that?" Futaba scrunches her face up for a moment as she transforms her legs, looking like pant legs are just forming over the bottom of her shorts. They're not connected properly, though, and the pant legs fall right off a second later. "Not a one of 'em's got all the original parts."" "Whoa... So you REALLY got these scrounged together and kept going. Niiice." Futaba nods slowly, sounding highly impressed by that sort of work. "He's kinda the mascot for the Ossabaw Marshals." "Heck yeah. Bet you could sell merchandise of that bad boy if..." She pauses, resting a hand on her chin. Would that even be a thing here? She stays quiet for a little bit, then snaps her fingers. "Could talk to the Paladins' marketing folks and see if they can't find a market for that. Y'know, like the model kits!" "She's more than one hand-full." "Way more." Futaba concurs with Natsuki firmly and nods, grinning mischievously as she swings her tail from side to side for a moment. It looks like it gets bigger for a second, too, but only for a second. ". . . about time management. Unless you . . . " That, meanwhile, gets a groan and slump from Futaba. "I know, and I don't, but uuuuugh. Just makin' appearances takes long enough already..." She complains, apparently finding those meetings far more distasteful than her meetings with local grandmas. INSIDE "And if we're real unlucky . . . " "I'll make sure to pack enough, then. Fighting's one thing, but going hungry... Nah, that's not cool at all. Can't even get a cool story out of that." Futaba shakes her head lightly, then raises an eyebrow at Calvin afterwards. "A stray whatnow?" "Doubt it," "*Libertalia* might." "One small thing off our plates, then... Maybe. Hopefully. You got any pictures or whatever that'll help us know if it's them in case they do show up?" ". . .to fuse 'em so they can become a different, stronger kind." "Huh. That's kinda neat. But what happens to... I mean, are they both in there, then? Or does one's brain... Like. Eat the other one?" Futaba asks, letting her mind wander a bit as pantomimes one hand eating the other except transforming them so it really looks like one is swallowing the other whole. She looks over at Natsuki a moment later, peering from her face to her tail, then narrows her eyes and leans in towards the latter. "Don't you get any funny ideas. Sis is in charge, got it?" ". . . without you havin' to lug a COMP around" Futaba peers a little more closely at Calvin's COMP, then looks back up at Calvin himself. "It's that much smaller? Dang, that does sound convenient. Any chance you could hook me up with one of those bad boys?" She chuckles for a second, then taps her chin. "Unless... What happens if one of those COMPs gets busted? Like, to the demons you've contracted with or.. I dunno. The room you're in when it happens?" ". . . a big jar? A box? A table?" "If it's real bulky, I can handle it like so!" Demonstrating her transformative powers again, Futaba turns herself into a miniature forklift. "No fuss, no muss!"
Calvin Nash	Sarracenia thought it would be funny to force the suit on the Eggpack.     "Damn it," says the Demon Marshal with blunt vitriol. It sounds like he might be a little disappointed, too. Maybe he was hoping it would have been Aidan. "Well. She thought wrong."     The suggestion of a model-kit Ugly is received well by Calvin. Kids love scraggly, scrungly things--one of his demons, a seaweed monster, is very popular with the local kids. They tough one on one or would it be more like a swarm?     "Depends on the demon," he says. "Patriots, Preta, your garden variety ghost sorts, they like to gang up. Some're bad if you see 'em at all. Some of 'em, like oni, they're tough *and* they like to gang up." Just makin' appearances takes long enough already...     "Well." Calvin's trademark noise. If he were some kind of marketable pocket creature it'd probably be his cry. "We don't call 'em 'responsibilities' 'cause you can just blow 'em off. Wish you didn't have to do it all you want--hell, wish in one hand and shit in the other, and see which one fills up faster." A little sidewards twitch of his head to punctuate the thought. His chair creaks as he leans forward. "You come by this weekend, we'll spitball some ideas, and then go for drinks." A stray whatnow?     "ICBM," Calvin flatly answers. It's in a major population center, and over two thousand were said to have been launched globally, so... yeah.     How big is the seed cache likely to be?     "The seeds are just one thing in the capsule," Calvin says, after having traced the route he intends to take lightly in pencil. Taking a seat in the antique Jacobean chair (some of the Marshals have matching ones; others, due to the age of the chairs, have more recent, simple chairs), "Really, 'capsule' is kinda misleadin'. It's supposed to be a bigass bunker. Books, recordings, scientific type stuff. Could be a whole lot of other stuff, too." Radical. So I'm coming along to make an introduction and convince the fellow a contract's worthwhile, but you'll make the actual contract?     Calvin nods stiffly. Makes sense to me. I don't know if I'd want to fuse Mothman if that means he stops bein' Mothman, though... Is there more than one? If Madeleine makes a contract with this Mothman, and then, say, I take a trophy or take some of the demon's energy afterwards. What would happen? Would Madeleine's Mothman become weaker?     "The way PB and Pastor Fred explained it to me... 'Mothman,' 'Pabilsag,' 'Cerberus,' whoever--is a wrapper for emotional energy from the Expanse. When you get to know a demon..." He taps his pencil thoughtfully on his desk. "You're gettin' to know the energy performin' the role of that demon. So that means two things. One," he says, lifting an index, "For as long as we have the *story* of Mothman, there's always gonna be a way for that energy to *be* Mothman."     "And *two,*" he says, listing with his middle, "If you decided to fuse him, then you're taking his energy and the other thing's energy and mixin' 'em around to make a new wrapper. Even if the wrapper, the... story, is new to you, you're not new to the energy. Which is why you shouldn't fuse demons that don't like you, 'cause then you got a bigger mix of energy that likes you *less* in a wrapper you gotta get a whole new read on."     "White--my mama's demon--she got him from fusin' a demon with the family horse. Could ask him what it's like to be fused if you want. Prolly hangin' around her house."     He ponders Natsuki's question for a moment, the pencil's cracked eraser thud-thud-thudding on the desk. "As for what happened if you fed on one, Ms. Natsuki... well, I figure it'd be fine long as you didn't clean your plate."
Calvin Nash	Sis is in charge, got it?     "No ma'am," says Calvin, more like you'd say to a child reaching for a cookie than to a grown woman. "*I'm* in charge," says Calvin bluntly. "On account of it's my mission, my truck and my state." It's that much smaller?     "The COMP is what's smaller. We're makin' a terminal for Ms. Madeleine to use because she wouldn't need half the functions a COMP has, on account of bein' an Elite without one, and 'cause it'd be set up in a research facility where she'd be in spittin' distance of a dozen other things she'd prolly want for her work." What happens if one of those COMPs gets busted? Like, to the demons you've contracted with or... I dunno. The room you're in when it happens?     "Depends on what happens to the COMP," Calvin says ominously, steepling his fingers on the desk. "COMPs are built to last because we ain't exactly trippin' over factories and electronics and such like. Which means we also ain't exactly trippin' over COMPS." So probably a no-go on loaners until conditions improve--which is probably why the Assembly is keen on drawing from Madeleine's expertise with the MCRD. "But shit happens."     "They're not gonna go off like a hand grenade or nothing. As for the demons, you can recover data. If you can't, well... it'd be the same as if they got kilt. The energy'd go back to the Expanse until it got strong enough to come back in the wrapper it likes the best."     Calvin observes Futaba's shapeshifting shenanigans with the same stone-faced 'okay' he always does. If he knew what emoji were, she'd get the thumbs-up for that.
Khosa	"Oglethorpe's no worse than half the names I hear every day," Khosa says to Madeleine. "I try not to comment, because I know my name's a little strange for some of you, who don't speak dwarven. Not that I'm the best at it myself, but at least I know some." Having no personal experience with missiles, Khosa has only other people's explanations as to how bad it is; she simply reads it as 'same scale of destruction as a wizard's war'. Avoiding the worst of the destruction sounds like a very good idea to her. "Your place has, like... vents, right?" Khosa has never been to Lobotomy Corporation, but people underground need to breathe too. "He said this place was all sealed airtight to make it the time capsule, so the air's not moving, and sometimes it gets bad when that happens. Sometimes it just smells off but it's fine, though." See, Malkuth says it's fine. It must be fine. Khosa reflexively follows Natsuki's wave ('She's more than one hand full') and laughs at the tail-flip in return. "Probably more than a couple," she says. "She's got some talent, though." Khosa has been meaning to talk to her about shapeshifting tricks. She grins back at Natsuki. "I know what you mean, and yeah, I've got some scale-and-hide that I wear sometimes. I almost brought them today because it's a little cooler here, but what the hell, I'm going to have to get used to it eventually." Is she trying to get used to cold weather by exposure? ...does it work like that? "Plus, I like these pants." "Khosa. No family name," she introduces herself in turn. "I've met Futaba once or twice. Didn't know she actually had a sister." Has she ever mentioned her? Not in Khosa's hearing, at least. She's curious what the answer to Natsuki's questions actually *is* and lets Calvin answer that without interrupting; instead, she leans over the map again to get a better look at the route now that he's drawn it out. Someone fused a demon with a horse...? Maybe she will swing by and ask. Not today, though. "Oh, a whole lot of stuff. And I thought you were just looking for seeds." Khosa runs her hand - well, not through her hair; it's mostly over the top of her bare head, but it's the same kind of gesture. "Well, if we need to dig we'll have to make a bigger hole. And you'll need to bring a bigger wagon or truck or something..." She double-takes at Futaba's trick. "Turning into things that aren't alive is a good trick. Just don't get stuck," Khosa suggests.
Madeleine Cadrasteia	"For as long as we have the *story* of Mothman, there's always gonna be a way for that energy to *be* Mothman."     "So if I get what you're saying," Madeleine says, slowly tapping her chin, "If one Mothman fuses or dies, there'll be another in short order. But maybe only the one at a time? Even so, that means I could meet both Mothman *and* Mothman-plus..." The huntress's mind must be whirling with possiibilities.     "If you decided to fuse him, then you're taking his energy and the other thing's energy and mixin' 'em around to make a new wrapper. Even if the wrapper, the... story, is new to you, you're not new to the energy."     Madeleine nods. "Like seeing a familiar actor in a new role, maybe? I think I get it now..."     "As for what happened if you fed on one, Ms. Natsuki... well, I figure it'd be fine long as you didn't clean your plate."     "But please don't eat Mothman!" Maddie blurts out with not insignificant alarm. "I need to study him."     Futaba turns into a forklift. Madeleine yelps in shock and hops a full three feet backward away from the desk. Then she remembers she's in an office and flushes as half a dozen other Demon Marshals turn to look. "Sorry, sorry. It's nothing. Just... just a forklift. Yeah." She grimaces from the mild social discomfort.
Angela	"Yes," Angela, an AI That can lie says. "We have vents." ''Damn it. Well. She thought wrong.'' Angel studies Calvin's expression for a long moment before agreeing with a small nod, "I was upset." She understates, but that is mostly only a lie by degrees. ''A lot of scary information about how dangerous the demons on.'' Justin Rook grimaces. "Wonderful." He says, exchanging a silent glance with Random that communicates volumes in a language that only the two of them speak. Cinder gives little confused looks between the two of them but whatever it is they are saying seems something they aren't inclined to share with Cinder. The two of them have a longer history with one another than with Cinder, it seems. ''Futaba turns herself into a miniature forklift.'' "...Horrifying to imagine how that works." Rook says.
Futaba Nuki	"like oni," "Eh? You've got oni here, too? Wonder if they're..." Futaba strokes her chin, grinning after a moment. "An American oni, huh? Kinda want to see that now..." "wish in one hand and shit in the other, and see which one fills up faster." Futaba tries not to laugh at that and succeeds for one entire second, waving a hand in front of her face like she just smelled something foul. "Gross, dude! Aaah... But nah, I.. I getcha. Guess it can't hurt to approach all that work from a different angle, maybe see if I can't get it all done easier that way." "ICBM," Futaba inhales, then nods slowly. She hasn't seen one in her own lifetime, but she sure has watched enough documentaries from other worlds to know what that could mean in this context. "fusin' a demon with the family horse." "Wait. Waaait. Does that mean you could fuse demons with people? That'd really be something else, but..." Futaba wrinkles her nose a little as she reconsiders Calvin's explanation about the energy. "Even if it's the person's energy, it's... Might not be them, from what it sounds like? Talkin' to White might not be a bad idea, yeah..." "No ma'am," "I'm* in charge," Futaba looks up and over from Natsuki's tail, blinking a little owlishly in confusion. "Huh? Oh, yeah, for sure. Wait. Huh?" She says in rapid succession, sounding so baffled already. "Depends on what happens to the COMP," "Hmmn. That's good to hear, then. Don't have to worry too much as long as yours or Madeleine's don't get slammed around too much. Of course, if we're avoiding fights we don't need to get into, that shouldn't even be a problem." Futaba affirms with a quick nod, being someone who definitely wants to avoid cool fights on a regular basis. "Just don't get stuck," Forkliftaba laughs again as she backs up, turns while moving forward, then backs up again to face Khosa properly. "Ain't it? Don't worry, I'm licensed!" Not to drive, but she's not expecting anyone to check that right here and right now. On closer inspection, there's little red eyes where the safety lights should be, and there's a big old leaf dangling off the top of the forklift with the little holes in it. ""Sorry, sorry. It's nothing. Just... just a forklift. Yeah." "...Horrifying to imagine how that works." "I used to, but then after learnin' from Di..." Futaba starts, trails off, and then the forklift carriages raises steadily (complete with mechanical whirring noise except it's Futaba mimicking that noise badly) until her eyes are partially obscured. It almost looks like she's turning a little red there. "... Changing into complicated stuff just feels easier now."
Natsuki Nuki	"He sounds like me, obviously. It's just good sense." Natsuki scoffs at her sister's this-or-that confusion. "Takeshi has business sense, but I'm the one that *actually* went to high school and impressed the Concord. Whatever he was doing was just messing with you compared to what happens in the *real* world, baby sister." She continues, eyes sliding away with a confident shift-away but barely gets a chance to look cool before Futaba's transforming herself into having half-on pants. "I was going to say yes, but, no. I don't think you can, actually. We're absolutely not competing on cool *or* fashion, you goof." 'Goofy', 'doofy', it's often that Natsuki repeats these little softer names for her ridiculous sister as she uses her gifts to become: a weirdo! Making her tail bigger for a hands-full joke is just showing off and Natsuki scoffs at that, swatting at the air and rolling her eyes gamely. "You didn't need to make it bigger to show off: you were *showing* it off already." She chides, birdsong giggling. When Futaba's head gets close to Natsuki's glaringly sinister tail, the tail gives a side-of-the head glare back, tasting the air with a forked black flick. Whether or not it gets 'any funny ideas' (it has evil ideas), the sibilant rise of a muck-bubble response is cut short by- 'No ma'am,' Like it's swatted or spraybottle chided Natsuki's glaring tail snouts down while glaring forward, much more visibly confused and caught between furious 'did he just tell me no again??' and the particularized difference in Natsuki-and-her-tail being treated as separate entities. They are, sort of, but they also aren't, sort of. Natsuki takes it more calmly, while chitin and scale black tail shifts to Natsuki's other side, favoring her Khosa side like a sore creature moving to a better position. "I think I'm familiar. Madeleine puts it well - like an actor. A consistent energy you're cultivating. And I'm surprised at what a good word you've chosen as well, Marshal." Savoring it on her tongue for a moment, Natsuki repeats it. "Wrapper." With a broad smile of well-considered enjoyment, she exhales a long 'mmmm'. "But you've already interested me." Prowling-in-tone, the sitting Natsuki speaks with deepening intent. "If it was just one 'energy' taking in things to generate a new wrapper, then, you wouldn't mind if the original disappeared. And, while spiritual concentrations aren't unheard of, this whole process -- emotional, digital -- it's a kind of cultivation, isn't it?" It sounds like this has come upon one of the off-kilter fashion outfitted Osakan woman's Topics of Interest.
Natsuki Nuki	'But please don't eat Mothman!' "Well, now things are much more interesting than a recurring haunt to collect, isn't it? It's not just 'Mothman' you're chasing, but the source of all Mothmen in your world. The original." "Of course, now I want a piece even more." Birdsong-laughs Natsuki. "But I'll settle for a tasty morsel, for you, Partner." She still hasn't actually addressed Calvin claiming he's the boss of this rodeo show. But she hasn't said 'no, nuh-uh' either. >The Forklift Incident Sighing and rubbing her face, Natsuki gestures towards Futaba. "My sister is greatly blessed," She manages to make priestess praise and recitation sound like a diss track. "-a miracle child. She can become nearly anything, except, apparently, something with a sense of taste and timing." The tone drops, and more older sibling rolls in. "When did you learn to become a load lifter? All those parts? Did you eat it? Tell me you put a whole forklift in your mouth and chewed, I'll definitely believe you."
Calvin Nash	Because Calvin is Calvin, he's puzzled by Natsuki's reaction--in his mind, it was Futaba who 'stepped out of line,' not her, even though there's no line to step out of and she wasn't even talking to him when she said that in the first place. He may be a little stupid. If one Mothman fuses or dies, there'll be another in short order. But maybe only the one at a time? Even so, that means I could meet both Mothman *and* Mothman-plus...     "And that's assumin' there wasn't one already. Some 'wrappers' take more energy to wear in the world than others, which makes certain ones real popular. Remember those shitheads that jumped y'all when you first came here?"     There *were* Preta involved, but they weren't really shitheads so much as they were frightened goobers. He probably means Patriots--the zombies with the extreme racist, jingoist attitudes, the tactical larping gear and the automatic weapons.     "It takes a lot less energy to be one of those than it does to be, I dunno, Okuninushi or Yurlungur. There's a whole slew of demons that come about from lingering energy left behind by dead humans. 'Swhy there's so many of 'em, between Patriots, your ghost sorts, other zombie sorts, 'n all that." Like seeing a familiar actor in a new role, maybe? I think I get it now...     "Yep." Working projectors and intact film are so rare that Calvin has never seen a movie, and while plays aren't unheard of they aren't really his thing. But he's not going to say he doesn't know when the subject is related to his area of expertise, even if the comparison is beyond him. Just... just a forklift. Yeah. ...Horrifying to imagine how that works.     "And I'd prefer if you didn't load and unload pallets in my command center, Chevalier Nuki," says Director Moore, looking up from a sheaf of papers and holding a radio receiver to her chest like one would a phone. "Even if they are teeny tiny." Was that a joke? The Director radiates a deathly serious aura, and yet she said 'teeny tiny.' Without so much as an upwards twitch of the mouth, she returns to her conversation, flipping through the papers on the struggling clipboard at her desk. "Thank you. Appreciate you." An American oni, huh? Kinda want to see that now...     "We got all kinds," says Calvin, still unfazed by the forklift. "PB, he's Sumerian, and Pally's Scottish. With demons, an oni is an oni is an oni. They'd be Japanese no matter where you found 'em, cause they're Japanese mythology. If they got Mothman in Japan, the role's the same over there as it is here." Wait. Waaait. Does that mean you could fuse demons with people?     "Mhm. Sure can. They do it lots in Libertalia. You're... 'you, plus,' way I hear it. Not my thing," he says definitively. "But they seem to like it good enough over there." This whole process -- emotional, digital -- it's a kind of cultivation, isn't it?      Calvin nods, and although he is trying not to appear too excited, he is excited to be talking demonology. "It is, yeah. There's a whole science worked out around it, and we're learnin' more about it every day. How you can fuse a demon of this type and that type to make one of this here type, and all that."      "But that's just one kind. You can use a kind called elementals to move along the same family of 'wrappers,' or use a kind called mitamas to make a certain wrapper more defined. It gets more 'n more involved the further you get into the weeds, and it can get pretty expensive in terms of magnetite *and* cash, honestly, but... real interesting stuff." It's a Topic of Interest for him too. Who'd have thought they'd have that in common? Tell me you put a whole forklift in your mouth and chewed, I'll definitely believe you.      Across the room, Director Moore quietly utters 'Hold on one second' and looks expectantly at Futaba for her answer.
Khosa	"I definitely remember the Patriots." Khosa didn't even end up fighting them, but she heard plenty, and saw a few at a distance. "It makes sense. There's lots of ways to get the angry dead, and lots of ideas about them." Now Khosa is learning about Mothmans (and, more importantly, other demons). She's Educated. She knew some of it already, because Calvin has explained parts of it in front of her before, but it's always nice to know a little more. Like a wrapper... huh. A psychic construct? The ways it can be modified sure make her think of one, except it's more than one person's psychic construct - it's everybody's, in a way. Hmm. This will take some additional thought. "You didn't need to make it bigger to show off: you were *showing* it off already." "Some girls like a little extra tail," Khosa says, while trying not to grin any more than she already was. She's still trying to figure out if Natsuki's is a separate entity or what. It's not clear to her, familiar as she is with snakes and occasionally taking aspects of them herself. "Did you eat it? Tell me you put a whole forklift in your mouth and chewed, I'll definitely believe you. Khosa does bark out laughter this time before she cuts herself off.
Angela	''Except, apparently, something with a sense of taste and timing.'' Angela remembers the Preta. She'd have remembered the Petra either way, but she especially remembers the Petra because of Petra. She's quietly a bit grateful for Natsuki since she's delivering a fair bit of sass, it means she doesn't have to involve her own sass delivery mechanisms and she can take it easy. ''Even if they are teeny tiny'' Angela feels a sudden surge of empathy for Director Moore. She isn't going to comment through a screen though. Angela takes notes on Demon Fusion. It sounds a little like EGO or perhaps partial degree of corrosion? It's interesting to think about. "Well you certainly shouldn't fuse if it is not ''your thing''. I know little about the process but I suspect reversing it would be quite difficult?" ''Lots of mechanical details about collecting them all and demon growth and tso forth.'' Angela thinks about Spinda. How is Spinda nowadays? It's been a long time since he's seen them. She can't help but worry about all the pokemon pals they've made. Cinder and Petra certainly seemed to find the whole process charming. Perhaps they'd enjoy fusing with demons too? Angela imagines Cinder but like fused with a demon. Would she have a giant matchstick head? Or would she look more like Scorched Girl? Presumably she'd have to fuse with some kind of fire themed demon.... ''Tell me you put a whole forklift in your mouth and chewed.'' Angela also looks at futaba expectantly.
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine's pulled out a notepad and is scribbling down notes on the demonic fusion process. "Y'know, I've fused once or twice. Not half bad, but it's probably different for demons or like, normal people." A brief point at her eyes to accentuate 'normal'.     Tell me you put a whole forklift in your mouth and chewed.     "Ayo?" Madeleine says, turning to look at Futaba with the rest.
Futaba Nuki	"And I'd prefer if you didn't load and unload pallets in my command center, Chevalier Nuki," "Aye aye, ma'am!" Futaba chimes in with a held-in snicker, jerking her carriage up briefly so the forks go up above her eyelights in a pseudo-salute. "Don't you worry, I'll make sure to leave any of those I find outside so the crew can sort everything out." "They'd be Japanese no matter where you found 'em, cause they're Japanese mythology." "Aw. I wanted to compare sizes." Futaba actually sounds kind of disappointed about that. "You're... 'you, plus,' way I hear it. Not my thing," "Sounds like it could get confusing after a while... Hmmn. Don't know if I could really get into that unless..." Futaba pauses, then lets out a noncommital noise. "I'd have to talk White and feel that out more, I guess." "Whatever he was doing was just messing with you compared to what happens in the *real* world, baby sister." "Heeey. We had real world fights! I mean, his generals did. You know he hired some real badasses just to take me out? Not like it worked, but... Man, those were some days!" Futaba chimes with her best old-man-reminiscing voice which is really just her regular voice but raspier. "Back in those days, I really had to scrape by. No cool tools, just my brains and a whole bunch of chutzpah!" She says, actually putting proper emphasis on the first syllable. "Wish you were there to see that, too. Then..." Futaba's voice lifts, and then it settles back down into an almost wistful tone. It's far easier to hear it than see it, thanks to being a forklift, but her eyes do shift downwards just a bit. "... The Concord treatin' you good over there?" "We're absolutely not competing on cool *or* fashion, you goof." "Fiiine, fine. But if I can't compete in fashion, I can still compete in size and style!" Futaba laughs again, albeit in miniature forklift-form where it's hard to really gauge sizes properly. Stylistically... No, she's a forklift. There's no style here. At least she looks like a pretty darn accurate forklift, although someone that's got a more recent memory of forklifts (or looks one up on a phone) will definitely notice missing parts all over the place that Futaba's just sort of fudged the details of. "She can become nearly anything, except, apparently, something with a sense of taste and timing." "Heey. I've got timing!" Somehow, the pout is audible from her horn. The Forklift Incident "It's a long story, buuuut..." She makes a throat clearing noise, then lowers the forklift carriage halfway. "You see, kids, when a ninja and a queen have a real good sparrin' session, sometimes the ninja learns how to... Eat... Forklifts? No, that's not it. I mean, maybe there was a...? No, then the ninja becomes..." Futaba goes quiet for several long seconds, then abruptly melts into a puddle. She looks like she's boiling for a few seconds in there, completely with muffled kettle-like noises, and then she shloops right back up into her usual form again, complete with the same clothes from before! That, plus her usual red scarf. It's back! "... Turns into a forklift? I-I dunno, transforming into stuff just kinda made more sense after all that! I learned better control, and... That's it. No forklift eatin' happened!" She fumbles over her words while pushing her scarf up a bit more over her face, clearly not knowing how to continue that story while she's still a little flustered for some reason she seems too embarrassed to recount for the crowd . "... Should turn into a big shredder and see if I really could crunch up a forklift, though. You got a broken down one anywhere around here you don't need parts from?"
Natsuki Nuki	The mystery of what Calvin said to repulse one part of the whole Natsuki remains an at-large mystery, the authoritarian tone hitting air-tasting tail-head some strange sort of... not wrong, but, unexpected. Thankfully, there's an interesting psionic-impression // demonology cultivation topic to follow down, and the fashionable street punk royalty young adult continues speaking instead of the apparent other half. "They do that sort of fusion, that 'you-plus' merging in your Libertalia? Now that's worth hearing. I was *going* to ask," The pout of a moment is all faux force and smoothly moved towards next point in performative bit of engaged funning. "Since you spoke of demons coming from people, but, I guess you've answered all of those questions." A swing of the leg from her lean to trade resting moves to a languid-slow shrug. "It seems to me your world already deals with the thin barrier between spiritual and physical. It's refreshing, after dealing with the most dreadful conservative bigots, to meet people who are comfortable with... more advanced wrapping." A testament to the 'teeny tiny' reaction to Futaba becoming one whole small forklift. "I wonder if there's some tired 'Human'-template being out there - if it's your great Heavenly being." Humu-humu nodding and truly self-assured as if she understands everything completely from one short conversation, Natsuki brings her loose fist back up to her face, smirking behind it, following Calvin's diction of the specifics. "Learning that the ingredients have a personality, too, is exciting. This whole time, even starting from 'the demon asks to be fused', from a bond, or this... process, it involves more of these wave-forms, or at least the wrappers? Fusing a human with a demon, means fusing a demon with a person, doesn't it?" She asks, with an 'of course it does' expective to her questioning. Inquesting like a student at lecture is almost too-appropriate in the setting, Natsuki is also avoiding dominating the entire discussion with 'wow isn't the miniature forklift in the room more interesting than demonology???' (because it's not, Natsuki's doofus sister is a plague!). 'Some girls like a little extra tail,' Natsuki calms her agitated second self with a brushing side-of-palm stroke up the side of her own sinister serpent, the head turning about to settle contented and eyes-shut in her hand. Posed such, as if for some imagined photoshoot - or just the bit, the moment, Khosa's attention, Natsuki flashes an eyetoothed grin and places the faintest of lips-pursed kisses to the flat scaled head. "Oh? Just a little extra? I'll have to keep that in mind. I'd hate to be un-reasonable." She holds this preambled pose through her sister wondering about 'it' being 'confusing', and then lets loose her tail to stalk behind the Forklift Uncertified sister of hers with a great sweep out of her arms. To hug? You wish. 'Heey. I've got timing!' Pouts Futaba's tooty-horn, then she boils herself back to a Tanuki. "You can transform a timing belt all you want," Natsuki challenges, then claps her hands to either side of Futaba's head and rattles until a bell sounds or the fizzy soda froths out of her ears (or, a short rattle). "But even *boiled out* you can't find even a bit of sense in there!" Natsuki drops her rattled sister a few inches from the ground and walks back to her spot, dismissing heavily with a wave during the saunter. "I can't believe my sister has to 'learn as she fights' with a construction vehicle, or, a queen, or - whatever. Did you at least win? Against the forklift queen?"
Khosa	"'You-plus' - eh." On one hand, Khosa is perfectly okay with transformative power - just look at her. On the other hand, she absolutely would want to be the one in charge, which is why she imitates animals and giant monsters instead of absorbing them. Having a psychic construct is one thing. Mind over matter bothers her not at all. Being ridden by one, and one that isn't even your own mind... Not her style. But she could see it with an animal, like the horse. (Horses are animals, right? She's pretty sure they aren't people, usually. Blemishine does not count.) "I-I dunno, transforming into stuff just kinda made more sense after all that! ... That's it. No forklift eatin' happened!" Khosa is somewhat disappointed by Futaba's answer, but she's still grinning. "If you want to chew on that much metal, be my guest, but I can think of better ways to be rich and flaunt it." "Oh? Just a little extra? I'll have to keep that in mind. I'd hate to be un-reasonable." Well, if Natsuki's plan was to get Khosa's attention, it worked. She looks her and her pose over, eyes wandering a bit more than she meant them to before she grins again, toothy. "I try not to be too greedy in public," she says, winking one of her oxidized-copper green eyes before turning back to the map.
Futaba Nuki	"But even *boiled out* you can't find even a bit of sense in there!" Now in conveniently-grabbable form, Futaba lets out a startled 'abababababa' noise while Natsuki shakes her around. The dazed frothing doesn't start until she's released, and it goes for a bit until her senses come back to her. "Gwuh... Not if you keep shakin' it all out!" Despite that, Futaba still snickers after a bit, then stretches her arms out over her head. "Learning how I fightis how I got through all those last ones. And.. Uh. I mean, aside from that one." She laughs outright at that, not sounding bothered at all by that. "Nah, she beat my ass. Really put me through the wringer, buuut. But. I got some good hits in, though!"
Calvin Nash	I know little about the process but I suspect reversing it would be quite difficult?     "If there's a way to do it," says Calvin, "We ain't found it in thirty years of lookin'." His tone implies that's why it's 'not his thing.' Aw. I wanted to compare sizes.     One of the Demon Marshals discussing a separate mission looks over his shoulder at Futaba. Did he hear that right? Couldn't have been. Back to chattering. You got a broken down one anywhere around here you don't need parts from?     "No," says Director Moore. It's the kind of 'no' uttered quickly and certainly enough to mean 'even if I were privy to that information, the thought of giving it to you fills me with dread.' Fusing a human with a demon, means fusing a demon with a person, doesn't it?     "Well..." This one isn't his trademark 'well,' but rather a more benign use of the word. A thoughtful, pensive use. "I'd say that 'the ingredients havin' personalities'..." He stops in his tracks again and thinks it through.     "Some demons would say they're people, and some wouldn't. But all of 'em talk, want things, need things, laugh, cry. They come from us, like Pastor Fred says."     "And I don't mean some kinda... group... mind, thing." He lifts his hands and traces little circles around his temples. "I mean they come from our stories and they use our emotions to walk around on Earth. They talk in languages we made. If demons *ain't* people, it don't seem to me like there's much good in treating 'em much different than people, on account of how like us they are."
Calvin Nash	"But..." Calvin leans back in his chair. "Sounds like I'm gettin' into the weeds a little. I try to work from figurin' humans and demons as different flavors of person, is all. Humans don't have wrappers, but we have the same kind of energy they do. So... fusion is..." He makes a mixing gesture with both hands. "Mixing the ingredients together and maybe sometimes a little wrapper for presentation."     He pushes a breath through his lips, a thoughtful noise rather than one of exasperation. "Actually," he says, sitting straight up and folding the map back up to put it back into his desk, "When we get done, I should introduce you to Pastor Fred down at the tabernacle. Maybe you could sit in on a fusion, even."     Whump.     "Anyway--that'll about do it for the briefing, I reckon. We'll head out tomorrow at 5 AM. If you can't get enough sleep, there'll be time on the way, but better if you do. I'll see y'all tomorrow--"     Director Moore interjects. "Just a moment," she says. "Marshal Nash, are you taking your truck?"     "Yes, Director." He pauses, standing in visibly evident standby.     "Don't. There are six of you. Head to the motor pool and get the keys to the Jeep."     Calvin pauses, like a dog being promised a walk.     "Be sure to leave the keys to your truck when you go."     "Yes, Director," he says, his head bobbing fervently.
Natsuki Nuki	With her hands clawed into Futaba's hair, it's easy to shake away a little of her stress, but afterwards she swings off and steps aside, arms crossing loosely. There's something else that assuages her mood much more, and she's willing to glance upwards to do it. "What's wrong with 'plus'? Being honest in your greed seems healthier." Natsuki asks, purring curious and frank in her honesty. As her voice rolls in her songbird throat, interested ears swivel on to Khosa's taller rise. It's not *as* obvious to Natsuki that Khosa is a shapeshifter as it might be for Khosa to sense out Natsuki's shifting nature. The tail, posed in scaled-clasped rise, stares black-struck red towards oxidized green, and tells more loudly of Natsuki's supernatural nature. Like her ears! Or being Forklift Futaba's sister. "Sometimes you just have to be *more* - it's a desire. Something expressed - like the demon asks. And it needs something. And those ingredients have personalities." Natsuki returns to her spot, recrossing her legs with arms splayed out on the desk behind her. "I'm glad you think it's interesting, Marshal Nash. I think this'll be fun! Hap-py to meet your friend." And just like that, posed with tail coiled about waist like a belt with a glaring-headed buckle, she closes her eyes and smiles. Everything's wonderful! But there's one last thing to deal with. 'Really put me through the wringer, buuut.' Opening an eye to stare at Futaba, Natsuki sighs. "Well. Then I guess we have an answer. The forklift ate you."
Khosa	Khosa is only tangentially aware of what an oni is. She'll look it up when she has a moment. Maybe then that statement will make sense to her. "Head to the motor pool and get the keys to the Jeep." "Hey," Khosa asks, "do you think I could learn how to drive one of them? Seems like a useful skill. I mean, not now, time's passing and all that." If they're starting *that* early, they don't want to take the time with a novice. "But sometime." "What's wrong with 'plus'? Being honest in your greed seems healthier. ... Sometimes you just have to be *more* - it's a desire." "I won't say no," Khosa says, a little slowly - because she doesn't usually put most of her philosophy into words and she's actually thinking about it, having gone from - well, the way she was - to actually thoughtful pretty quickly. Sometimes you do have to be more. I'm not saying don't improve, or stay where you're put, for no reason than that's where you started. Hell, look at me." "But that's not the way I'd want to do it, is all. I'd be worrying that I'm not in the box seat, that I'm being pulled around by thoughts that aren't mine, or with what I've heard about demons from the Marshal, that I'm following someone else's story. Especially if you can't split up again later." Khosa shrugs. "Personal taste. I don't mind changing, but I like to be in charge of it." "Now, I do things I don't think of all the time, like when people ask me - nobody stands alone. But I still decide to do them." Khosa grins again, reverting to a more usual attitude: "If I get a story I want it to be *mine*. But I'd still come and talk to the Pastor again, myself. Might learn something new; who knows?" "Well. Then I guess we have an answer. The forklift ate you." Khosa tries to hide her laugh and does slightly better this time. But only slightly.