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Owner	Pose
Calvin Nash	Atlanta, GA City Limit 12:14 PM     "We made good time gettin' here," Calvin says over the radio, very proud of himself.     Junior, in the truck, doesn't respond. Not over the radio, anyway--he just scoffs and shakes his head.     It is true--but the reason for it is having picked an apparently avoidable fight that caused a fair amount of damage to both vehicles. The door of the Jeep Calvin's driving is dented, the rear passenger and tailgate windows spiderwebbed.     The truck has a shattered headlight, a cracked windshield and a missing rear view mirror.     It's pretty far from nightfall, by the time you're heading north on I-75. But the reason Calvin is pleased to have made good time becomes obvious when you pass the small, abandoned satellite community of Hapeville.     This is the limit of what the Demon Marshals have been able to accomplish, as far as clearing the old major highways. Gridlock, frozen in time, clogs these old arteries to a standstill, telling countless stories of quiet desperation.     Calvin and Junior are eventually forced off of the Interstate long before the first of Atlanta's serpentine knots of highways and toll roads. Taking the back roads is slow and ponderous, like driving through Macon but magnified in its intensity and scope.     The smashed corpses of abandoned homes dotting the blown-open, crumbling roads are slowly devoured by colonizing oaks.     Further in, downed power poles variously either fallen under their own weight or thrown across the road by the blasts of ten-kiloton warheads as far away as two or three miles into the city become a more common sight, as do windows long since blown out or cars overturned and left to rust. At some points, the two Marshals have to drive onto the heaving sidewalks or into overgrown yards to navigate.     One particularly long stretch involves circumnavigating a collapsed tunnel by passing through a forested suburb, which itself means variously driving around or over the trunks of dry, dead and rotted trees amidst droves of their still-living fellows. 1:06PM     Crawling ever closer to Oglethorpe University through the city's outskirts, it becomes clear just how large it was--suburbs give way to silent commercial districts, from which there is a constant sense of being watched.     A clear stretch of state road offers a view of the city proper from between the silent vigil of moss-clung oaks. What was once a city skyline in the distance is a shattered ruin. Few buildings are even standing from your vantage point, let alone structurally sound. What appear to be small foothills or mountains are, upon closer examination, rubble--and the trees on the far end are all askew, as if bent by some inexorable force all at once.     Here and there, pockets of fighting are necessary, as emboldened demons pick fights they think they can win--and they have good reason to, at least in terms of numers and hiding places. Oni, the angry, hungry, and lonely dead, and--     "Red Dogs," Calvin spits, after he and Junior lose a tail from what appears to be a working vehicle painted in police livery. Eventually, the view of distant destruction from the driver side window fades to more thick forestation.
Madeleine Cadrasteia	After the uninvited excitement of the Hell Biker encounter, and some interesting conversation about his nihilistic credo, Madeleine quiets down again and settles in for the ride. She keeps her eyes on the scenery, helping keep watch for lesser demons and other threats while nibbling at her Red Vines. The disinhabited city seems to bother her less than the half-cleared ruins of suburbia, for whatever reason - perhaps she just isn't as attached to the dense urban centers, doesn't see the lost life in them in the same way she did the outskirts. Maybe the trees that grew in are more palatable scenery for her anyway.     "Red Dogs," Madeleine repeats after Calvin, peering back over her shoulder. "What're those, some kind of wannabe cops? Like those Patriot bastards?" She tugs at the hem of her Mothman crop-top, clearly not eager to get shot at again.
Khosa	Khosa had to switch vehicles back, having been thrown out of Calvin's and onto Junior's, and then spend a few minutes undoing much of her shapeshifting. It's not as fast a process as growing scales and claws, apparently, though part of that is because she's treating her bruises and scrapes and burns at the same time. She ends up looking a little ragged. If she was on foot she'd peel some of the scales off like shed snakeskin; in the Jeep she can't do that, so she ends up keeping the scales in a thick band across her shoulders and back and lighter patches on her lower arms, all sandy brown and red today. Khosa started paying attention again after she was done. "This place is a mess," she decides, looking out the window. Ruins she's seen, at home and abroad. Cities, too; she grew up in one that is, by her standards, pretty dense. But she's only seen a city this big a couple times and never in such a state. (And even now it's hard for her to see the cars as anything but ruined wealth.) "Or bandits," she adds, after Madeleine. "Or both. They come together a lot. People who tell people what to do but their only authority is the sword." She scratches absently at one of the patches of scales on her lower arm.
Angela	Angela is still stuck in a pad, Cinder is winded but doing fine. Random and Rook are making out in the back of Junior's truck once they've made it back inside. Look, that fight was pretty romantic you know? By now the excitement has worn off but Random and Rook are stilll cuddling by 1:06 PM. Angela has spent most of the time watching the windows. She doesn't seem to get bored of it, despite how slow it must be going for her. It's ''Outside'' and ''Outside'' hasn't worn out its welcome. Outside is good. Outside is...expansive. It's everywhere, in fact, except for where she is right now. "Cops and robbers," Angela murmurs, and then laughs without smiling. "So they are responsible for the destruction?" Angela asks Calvin. Once battle happens, Rook and Random stop making out and cuddling and start fighting along with Cinder--and they don't go back to making out after, remaining on alert from here on out. "One thing we haven't seen much of is a 'mothman' yet." Rook points out, drawing out a cigarette and lighting it. "We getting any close?"
Futaba Nuki	<<"Right? I thought it woulda taken us at least a couple more hours just gettin' this far.">> Futaba replies to Calvin over her own radio as she hangs out in the back of Junior's truck, looking a little more limp than usual. She's still a little worn down from that avoidable fight, due in part to getting burnt all over and hit with a motorcycle right in the face, but she's in a pretty good mood regardless since it was a rather exhilarating fight. She peers out the side of the truck, considering whether or not to suggest turning into a bulldozer blade and attaching herself to the front of it. It takes about four seconds for her to decide against that, though, since she's not sure the truck or her face could survive that for long. Instead, she dips her head back inside so as to not add extra considerations for how much clearance Junior might have as he and Calvin navigate through and around all that gridlock. <<"Dang, this road really would need an army just to clear it all out... Must be a couple o' dozen cars out here. No... Hundreds, just goin' down this road.">> She comments, not fully grasping the scale of things just yet. <<"Might be able to flip some of these outta the way on the way back if we ever need to go straight through, but... Sheesh.">> As the journey becomes more treacherous with straight up combat, Futaba's quick to transform and join in the fighting herself, lashing out with her flaming katana in a whiplike arm, slingshotting broken doors from abandoned vehicles, and even swooping overhead to launch herself like/as a cannonball for variety's sake. <<"Red dogs, huh? If they're anythin' like the wild ones I've seen, some food should distract 'em. Or...">> Holding up her phone to her face, she takes a quick selfie in the middle of transforming her upper body into a rather close facsimile of the same Hell Biker everyone had fought just a short while ago. She leans out the back of the truck to make sure her transformed head and arms are easily visible, and she opens her mouth to let loose another quick burst of flame just to scare off any tailgaters. There's a couple of things wrong with this, though. The biggest one would probably be sitting in the back of Junior's truck rather than on any kind of two-wheeler. Was the scarf always on fire? It is now! Most of all, however- "Heeeyyy, brrrothers! I'm rollin' here, so move your butts or you'll be eatin' my dust out of a catheter!" She's projecting her voice well, at least, but the voice is still just hers.
Natsuki Nuki	Though she had taken Hell Biker's ride and ridden back to Junior and Calvin's convoy, Natsuki hadn't particularly wanted to ride the shattered countryside and approach towards the city. Transferring back to Calvin's busted up Jeep while the boys go over the damage, Natsuki is in good spirits despite the Calvin-forced encounter, richly fed on the residual spiritual energy that Hell Biker's defeat had offered her. "How can he be sour?" Natsuki asks up to the front seat while snickering amusedly. "Unless, Calvin, Hell Biker is just going to come back?" She asks, a little more curious. The amount of wild devils out in the world created by ambient energy didn't really surprise her, but the questions and discussions on wrappings and resummonings and returnings had given her at least some inkling that Hell Biker wasn't one and done. Passing the shattered and abandoned vehicles that choke the road, Natsuki leans on the inside of her windowside seat and turns to look at the scale-wrapped Khosa. Her appraising and appreciative long looks and interested chronicling of the psion's little fixings and scrape-clearings had let up when the Mul went to look out the window again, but the line of cars brings her attention back. "There's a lot of ruin out here - but look at all these *cars* just out and left. Think you could get a few of your people together and scrap the route? I bet it'd be easy pickings for a crew from where you're from." Natsuki observes, looking between Khosa and Calvin. She certainly doesn't mean that Calvin's world isn't forbidding, but... The Nue has a feeling that any crew Khosa would bring in would treat the dangers as light work. There was rain here! And green trees! By the time the hour rolls over, Natsuki has rolled down the window and stuck herself out the side again, two-handing a street-plucked bent STOP sign as lance and paddle against closing devils both. Whacking the morons and oni that got close had given Natsuki more of a thrill than any mailbox knock-down might ever, happy to take a swing at anything that gets close. "Is this another Devil Driver situation, Calvin? Or is there devils that can repair vehicles?"
Calvin Nash	What're those, some kind of wannabe cops? People who tell people what to do but their only authority is the sword.     "Khosa's got it right."     Plugging that threadbare aux cord into his COMP, he lets the device explain after a few multitasking tap-taps, his eyes flicking back and forth between the road and the screen for a second. The primitive TTS reads out a Compendium entry: Red Dog Brute A police unit formed in 1987. They struck fear into the hearts of criminals and innocents alike with their black uniforms and indiscriminate violence. Some say name is an acronym for 'Run Every Drug Dealer Out of Georgia,' while others say they were named for the football tactic of blitzing with every weapon at one's disposal. They beat, intimidated and arrested whoever they felt like, justifying their actions after the fact. The lingering fear and memory of that unit has allowed them to manifest as demons, more vicious and petty than they were even in life. So they are responsible for the destruction?     "No ma'am," Calvin answers. "All this is the bombs and the neglect that came after. They're responsible for plenty of other shit, though. Poor folks, black folks, and especially poor black folks suffered a lot 'cause of them. On account of the folks in charge back then'd rather beat somebody 'n throw 'em in a cell for hurtin' instead of figurin' out why they're hurtin'. Couldn't even be bothered none to figure *who* was hurtin'. Just went after whoever looked like them folks 'n said 'sure, close enough.'" He opens his door (since rolling down the window is a dubious prospect in its current state) and spits a mouthful of ginger onto the road. "Peckerheads," he verbally spits. Is this another Devil Driver situation, Calvin? Or is there devils that can repair vehicles?     "There are. Sven--that dwarf fella at the gatehouse, he's pretty good at it."     The issue with the Red Dogs is that you're never fighting just one, as Futaba finds out when she makes her threat. You mess with the shitty bun and you get the whole shitty hamburger. Additional patrol cars and vans show up off of side roads. They're nowhere near the level of problem that Hell Biker was, but they're annoyingly persistent and individually strong enough to be a problem because of it. Before Calvin and junior manage to lose them in the trees, they even have a goddamn helicopter out and looking. It gives up after a while.
Calvin Nash	1:45 PM Oglethorpe University, Brookhaven, GA     A crawl around the edges of an overgrown park and around the bend of a gated community takes you to the campus, a small and forgotten thing nestled in the woods, which might be completely swallowed by them in ten or fifteen years more.     Calvin pulls onto a highway, driving across lanes and a shattered median barrier to pull through the tree canopy and onto the cracked, weed-shot pavement of the university's parking lot.     "Aight," he says through the radio. "We gon' pull up just a skitch here so nothin' sees us from the road."     One skitch later, the jeep and the truck are parked on knee-high grass in the shade of an oak. To the southwest, a stadium light sans its stadium is trapped in the branches of several trees, keeping a lightless eye on the sunken roof of what must've been a performing arts center. A little east of the performing arts center is a trio of squat, square buildings, their entrance marked with a rusted modern art installation.     This itchy grass was probably once the small university's courtyard. "Now," says Calvin, after stepping out of the jeep. "This here's where the map ain't gonna be so good. Thoth told us we're lookin' for the administration building. Good news is, it's prolly gonna be somethin up or down this here," he says, waving a hand back and forth to indicate the courtyard, generally. "'Cause this wasn't a big high-falutin' college like UGA was."     "So we got... one, two, three, four, five options, before we gotta think too hard." 1. West - the three connected buildings with the art installation out front. 2. South-Southwest - Two very close buildings, one-story each. 3. South-Southeast - A smaller rectangular building flanked by green-brown oaks. 4. East - A rectangular building about the same size as the previous, but connected directly to the parking lot and closest to where you are. 5. Further West - That building overlooked by the ripped-off stadium light. It probably isn't there.     Right when it seems like this is gonna be a split-up kind of deal, Calvin decides which way to go for everyone. "What we'll do is," he says, "Start closest first and work our way around. That way we stay together in case somethin' happens." 'Closest' here is the building just a little to the east of you, connected to the parking lot that Calvin and Junior passed up in favor of tree cover.
Calvin Nash	The exterior of the closest building is beautiful, a stone thing with small but impressive spires resembling a cathedral more than a university admin building--it must be pretty old. Inside that building, Junior offers Rook a little more context on Mothman. "He's a nighttime critter," says the Marshal. "And we know he's been heading up this way. The plan is we'd head up here and catch 'im on the way back, right when he's waking up. That way, we won't be in the city at night when the meaner shit gets active."      As it so happens, that first building is indeed the administration building! Calvin scrapes some lichen off of a sign out front that names it as the Hearst Administration Building.      It's small and dilapidated, which sees Calvin and Junior passing out little bandanas to use as facemasks in case of dust or mould. Far, far from perfect protection (the best, of course, just 'not being in mouldering buildings that have gone untouched for 50 years) but better than nothing.      Dust has settled like carpet over a forgotten front office's smattering of furniture. Rodents, wild birds and time itself have torn long-irrelevant magazines to tatters. Lights are useless, quaint memories, variously either hanging from their fixtures or resolutely set within them, but never on. Ceiling tiles hang low, particularly in the hallway where a leak has caused a concerning, fuzzy black patch.      Down a hallway past the reception, it doesn't take long to find the Crypt. This is for two reasons: the first is that the door is the most Crypt-of-Civilization-looking thing you've seen on the entire trip; a thick polished steel thing with a tarnished plaque on the front and a demon-core-looking spherical protrusion at knee level. The second is the fact that it's a little hard to read the plaque, given the two terracotta soldiers standing guard over it.      "Halt," says one. "State your business."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine hops out of Calvin's vehicle, eager to start exploring an abandoned university! She passes around some bug repellent spray for anyone who needs it. When the admin building is identified as such, the huntress is halfway ready to scramble up the exterior of the building for window or roof access before Calvin tries the door and finds it open. "Oh."     Once inside she gladly accepts a bandana and wraps it over her face - she's probably not immune to mold, and not excited to find out what varieties have been growing in these offices for the last five decades. When presented with terra-cotta soldiers, however, she is caught completely off-guard. "Are those supposed to be here?" she whispers to Calvin.     "Halt, state your business."     The huntress is struck dumb, however, when the soldiers speak. These must be demons! Quick, act natural, play it cool. Finding no good cover story already available, Madeleine draws on the environment for a Kaiser Soze-like yarn. "We're the, uh, door orb inspectors," she says, pointing to the protrusion on the vault entrance. "Here to inspect your, uh, door orb." She's not very good at this. "Doorb." Not very good at all.
Angela	Angela reads the Red Dog description. "Oh they're just normal Fixers." Angela says. "Begging your pardon, ma'am, but please don't compare us. We're ''professional''." Rook protests. Angela shrugs on her viewscreen, clearly not too concerned with her opinion of Fixer groups being approved of by Rook but not willing to fight with him about it either. Rook takes a breath, steadies himself, and doesn't rise to the bait either. "Why would they harm 'black folks' in particular?" Angela asks. "The poor I understand even if it is a bit skin to grinding blood out of a stone." There's more fighting and Rook mutters a few choice words, clearly displeased at being compared to the Red Dogs, but he does the work. One Skitch Later Five routes are put before Angela. Angela studies them carefully. West seems unlikely because of the art, two close buildings like that--perhaps a dormitory? It's the east building that makes the most sense to her. "East option," Angela says. "If it is an administration building, you'd want there to be parking for the administrators--parking that has direct access that won't be taken up by studens." Of course then Calvin just says what they're gonna do anyway irrespective of her logic in the matter--it does mean her pick is the one they're starting with but she's annoyed because her reasoning wasn't the reason he chose. She's too smart for this, she tells herself, going around babysitting Fixers and Agents while working at Lobottomy Corp--it doesn't even occupy all her mental strands. So frustrating! But her frustration fades a little when she sees the building. It's ... pretty. She didn't know buildings could be. Two terracotta soldiers stop the group and Cinder looks down to Angela. "Now what?" Meanwhile, Junior is answering Rook on the matter of the Mothman. Catch him after the recovery. "Makes sense," Rook says. ''State your business.'' "Mothman." Angela says, however. "The time capsule." Random says more accurately.
Khosa	"Dung eaters," Khosa practically spits. The 'Red Dogs' are something familiar enough to Khosa to get a reaction from her - they remind her of some of the Templars and not in a good way. "Everywhere's got people like that, I guess. I don't know whether to be glad that people are the same everywhere or pissed that that means they're like *this*." Khosa's in-vehicle idea of combat is using her telekinesis; she leans well out the window and punches or yanks at the air, dislodging broken chunks of asphalt or shoving fragments of debris to get in their way, since lifting chunks of the road was so effective against the Hell Biker. She doesn't lift and throw entire cars, though - smaller pieces only. She doesn't feel braced enough in a moving vehicle to shove *really* heavy objects, even with telekinesis. Khosa also noticed Natsuki was looking. She deliberately 'caught' her doing so, winked, and then went right back to what she was doing. "It's a long way," is her response to the idea of scrapping it. "Not saying it couldn't be done, but this place seems like it'd be one hell of a walk to get to and bring anything back from." Exiting the Jeep once it's pulled up under the truck, Khosa says, "Don't mind me, I'm just gonna take a moment," and steps behind the oak tree. She doesn't go far. She can hear fine. She's just taking care of something. She comes back a couple minutes later, having scratched most of the scales off and looking a good deal less irritated at the itchiness. She's just tugging her vest back into place, having taken it off to get to the ones on her back. It means Calvin has had time to make his decision about which way to go without unhelpful suggestions from Khosa. "Hearst," Khosa says, brows furrowing. "That a name or did someone spell hearts wrong?" It takes her a moment to figure out why she's being offered a bandana - long enough for someone else to get theirs on. She ends up declining, pulling out a cloth of her own; something halfway between a face mask and a bandana, half undyed but with a geometric pattern in near-black. It's for sandstorms, but it'll work for this. (Also it's not like she's covered her arms or stomach or anything, so it wouldn't be great for a sandstorm anyway, but she's not expecting one down here.) "Blech," she says, fanning some of the dust. She eyes the - to her eyes, anyway - partially collapsing ceiling near the mold, but it doesn't seem like a structural collapse so she ignores it after a few moments. And then there's the vault door. Khosa isn't sure why anyone would put what is probably the handle so low - did halflings make it? It kind of looks sized for one - but her eyes pass from that toward the terracotta soldiers. Golems, she decides immediately, somewhat misreading the situation - it doesn't occur to her that these are demons, as to her, golems are something in their own category. Something that obeys orders, but isn't able to think about them. Which means, to her, you can talk your way past them if they're well-built enough to listen. "To fulfil the vault's purpose," Khosa says, immediately. "The stuff stored against a disaster? Well, the disaster happened." She glances over toward Calvin, who she assumes might have some authority here, too.
Futaba Nuki	Hearing the Compendium info for the Red Dogs gets a distasteful noise out of Futaba. "Dang. I thought-" She stops herself, switching from the Hell Biker cadence to her regular tone. "I thought American cops were supposed to be action heroes like that guy in them big tower plaza. Smackin' down folks that're already down doesn't sound right..." She half-questions, sounding both skeptical and disheartened about movies not being an accurate representation of reality. Seeing that the Hell Biker visage isn't enough to ward the Red Dogs off alone, she drops it fairly quickly, but doesn't sotp spewing flames and slashing at them or swinging a big dumb fist around.  She comes back in once it looks like Calvin and Junior have lsot them, though, breathing a sigh of tired relief and just lying down in the back of the truck to let her thoughts percolate a little longer. She ends up napping for a bit, and by the time she wakes up, the cars are parked! Coming out to join everyone with a groggiy little yawn, Futaba stretches her arms out over her head before peering around at all the different buildings surrounding the group. "Administration, huh? That's gotta be in either the fanciest lookin' building, or..." She purses her lips briefly. "Closest to the middle of everything? Figure the bigwigs might not want to be anywhere crummy looking or have to run around too far to beat traffic headin' home." Listening to the five possibilities, Futaba straightens up and embiggens herself momentarily, turning around several times to get a better lay of the land in her head. "I'm thinking it might be in that artsy-looking one. Looks pretty fancy compared to the rest, yeah?" She comments/semi-asks as she comes back down, raising an eyebrow when Calvin decides on the path forward. She shrugs lightly, not having too much of a problem with keeping the group together. "Sounds fine to me. It'll be more time to see more of this place, anyway." Futaba chimes in, sounding pretty sure of herself in a way that just makes it more disappointing when it looks like the first building is already the correct one. Still, hearing about the Mothman takes some of that sting out, and Futaba even gets to show off a bit more of her transforming prowess by just having a ninja-styled breathing mask (also sometimes known as a regular black mask) on in that brief moment it takes going from the outside of the building to the inside. "Dusty, dusty... Well, at least we won't have to worry about runnin' into anyone else around here." She comments, seconds before being proven wrong again. Looking over at the terracotta soldiers, the tanuki whistles lightly as she looks them over once, apparently impressed by something she's seeing or hearing. "Vault-checkin'. Like the big lady said-" She jerks a thumb at Khosa, then nods towards the entrance once while turning into a statuesque version of herself holding a stone katana (complete with base and an unreadable plaque)."Things have gotten pretty bad out there. We're here to start turning things around, if you'll be so kind."
Natsuki Nuki	Even if Futaba's taunting of the Red Dogs draws more of their attention towards truck and jeep, for once Natsuki has no shouted call or chiding cut for her younger sister in the other vehicle. Instead, while Calvin's AUX-boosted COMP reads out the terrible history of yet another awful spirit born of humanity's harm towards other humans, Natsuki takes a careful aim with her stopsign - holding it as a javelin with tongue bipt out between teeth. "Real machines -- great!" Natsuki shouts, clawing windswept hair from eyes and realizing her target before hurling metal spear behind maneuvering jeep -- spearing the front engine block of the chase car and pinning it for a moment to the ground, threatening to flip the whole thing on the street behind. Grinning while chuckling, flushed with the rush of just railing a moving vehicle, the laughing woman sprawls back inside the Jeep's cabin. "See if they like fixing that up." She asides, as if a snappy line was just presumptive, necessary even. Her tail, squirming-sliding out from underneath her sitting posture, seems vaguely serpentine-unhappy with being jammed back into the undercushioned Jeep interior, but there's not a huge amount of space for it to sprawl and coil aside from the seatwell in front of Natsuki. So it sort of just sourly curls into her lap and closes its eyes, while the tiger-eared head has a grand time. "So is this why Junior's biting at your ear? Wanting to save some paint for the highway devils? Since you're pleased as you are, I bet you were already pricing in your partner there being mad at you." It's not really a question - Calvin being so cavalier about taking a detour to bomb past Hell Biker on the road had to be for a reason. "Sheesh. And I thought the Metal Priests were bad, but you're still dealing with the ghost of ancient ass-holes." Natsuki commemorates the fading Red Dogs in the rearview and backwindow with a flicked up middle finger that drags down an eyelid. "What a bunch of loser devils you've got, though!" 'We gon' pull up just a skitch here so nothin' sees us from the road.' One skitch later, Natsuki rolls out of the jeep and accepts a bandanna, not even looking at anyone else before using the bandanna to--- Tie back her white hair. It's neither obvious nor necessary for her to wear such a thing! As a mask. As fashion or accessory, of course, she'd wear the color! Moseying through a dimly-curious path through the building, the first thing Natsuki does is have her nose twitch -- and the second thing she does is sneeze and blech. Tasting something foul, she looks at the others wearing the bandannas as filters and. . . surrepticiously spits the taste out of her mouth while faking looking at something, wipes her nose with her hand, and continues on down the hallway past reception. "This... is definitely haunted." Natsuki opines, before coming upon the Teracotta soldiers! 'State your business.' Grinning, Natsuki flourishes a lightly-closed hand. "Adding ink to my legend, gaining new power, reading that plaque behind you - I do a lot." 'Mothman.' Natsuki snaps her fingers and chirpingly giggles. "That's right, the Mothman too."
Angela	Angela gives Natsuki a respectful nod purely becase she agreed with her on Mothman. This is what it takes. She assumes the laughter is, of course, Natsuki being pleased at the prospect of finding Mothman.
Calvin Nash	That a name or did someone spell hearts wrong?     "It's a name," says Junior. "Lotta these universities were built with state money, but sometimes that'd run out. Then you'd have this person or that person that helped 'em put up this building or that building. So to thank 'em, they'd call it 'the Hearst Administration Building' or "Nash Library Hall.'"     "My momma donated to a library?" asks Calvin with interest.     "No, Calvin, I was just givin' an example," says Junior flatly.     "Oh. Well."
Calvin Nash	This... is definitely haunted.     "Damn sure is," says Calvin, sizing up the soldiers. Are those supposed to be here?     "No, but it makes sense," Calvin whispers back. "They guard tombs and crypts and suchlike." Here to inspect your, uh, door orb. Doorb.     "We were not informed of any such inspection," says the one on the right.     "The seal functions as it has since it was placed." Mothman. The time capsule. That's right, the Mothman too.     "That miscreant is unwelcome in this sacred place," says the soldier on the left.     "You know 'im?" asks Calvin, flipping open his COMP to take notes.     "Of course I know him. That blowhard can be heard across the forest in the night, proclaiming his greatness to all who will listen. In the day he is no less a nuisance, making himself a guest wherever he may and complaining profusely when his slothful rest is bothered. If I knew his whereabouts I would gladly tell you, just to be rid of him."     "He insulted my armor," says the other soldier in a way that shows whatever Mothman said to him has been living rent free in his clay head all this time.     "He trod on an image of our liege lord."     "He bit my finger."     "He smoked cigarettes in the Palace of the Four Kings!"     "He bedded my crops and stole my wife," the right soldier furiously asserts. The side-eye from his fellow indicates this probably isn't true and is just in the spirit of airing grievances.     "Other way around, boss," Calvin interjects politely, without commenting on whether he believes it.     "..ah, of course. Thank you."
Calvin Nash	The time capsule. The stuff stored against a disaster? Well, the disaster happened.     "Can't you read?" Asks the left guard of Random and Khosa. "...I suppose you cannot, with me standing here. Still." He shuffles with a clay clink-clink to tap the plaque. Consequently, this allows Khosa, Random and Natsuki to read it. "The plaque clearly says that it is not to be opened before 8113 AD, so that future civilizations may see what life was like in the time it was built. You are six thousand seventy-one years, one month, fifteen days, nine hours and fifteen minutes early!"     "Give or take," says the other soldier.     "Give or take," says his fellow with a nod of agreement.     As Natsuki, Khosa and Random can see, the creator of the Crypt was rather optimistic about the survival of human civilization. They're right about the timeframe. And also, unfortunately, right about the intent of the time capsule. It wasn't for emergencies, but for sentimental reasons.     "Hold up, y'all," Calvin interjects. "You mentioned the Four Kings a minute ago. Y'all work for them, or you just fans?"     "We serve his majesty Zouchouten, he who expands wisdom and enlarges the spirit."     "Yeap," says Calvin, thumbs in his beltloops. "Figured you might. Red armor was a dead giveaway. Looks good, by the way." The flattery seems to work a little, as both soldiers stand up a little straighter. "You here on his orders?"     "Indeed," nods the right soldier.     "Uh huh." One hand lifts to rub his chin. "What'd he tell y'all to do, exactly, if y'don't mind me askin'?"     "To safeguard places of knowledge and cultivation in the South of this land."     "Well, that's sure nice of 'im. Tell you what, though," he says, lowering his hand from his chin to point at the door. "You can guard this here for the next six thousand years, dealin' with Mothman whenever he comes by... or you could let us take it to the eggheads up in Oklahoma, and we could put it to use right away."     "Doing what?"     "Well, learnin', for one. Healin'." A nod towards Khosa. "Growin' back from what the bombs done to us. How would the Lord of Growth like that?"     "That *would* please Lord Zouchouten..."     "But what would we do then? We cannot travel so far north. It would be disrespectful to Lord Tamonten!"     "Well, you could guard the Guidestones."     "The Guidestones...?"     "Yeap," says Calvin with a nod. "Over in Elbert County."     "In Georgia?"     "Yes sir."     "What is the significance of these stones?"     "Well, they're instructions on how humanity can grow back after a disaster. Real important stuff. Kinda thing that'd need long term protection."     "...yes, I think Lord Zouchouten would be pleased. Please, stand back--the Crypt was pumped with gases to preserve its contents. It wouldn't do for you to breathe them in."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Please, stand back.     End this farce at once!     >Commit to the act.<     "Oh! I'll just, uh, inspect the orb from afar then," Madeleine says, taking a few big steps back. She raises her voice slightly to continue: "So this Zouchouten fellow, he doesn't get on well with Tamonten? Or is there just a sort of 'I'll stay on my side, you stay on yours' agreement about north and south with those two?"
Natsuki Nuki	It's not obvious at all what Natsuki's thrushsong laughter is about, beyond her fairly great mood. Angela, of course, is giving her backpack nods all special, so the Nue-woman curls her thumbs into her pockets -- she and Calvin share some of this thumb-hanging habit, though Calvin and Natsuki holster in different locations. "Hey hey, miss Angela," 'missu an-gela'. "I'm happy to have the right answer." She asides, as of that explains it all. And, perhaps, it does - for all her preening and posting, she hadn't actually said why they came, and Angela did, and that was perhaps the key to making the terracotta soldiers be more mad at Mothman than petulantly guardian-focused. Win-win! Watching Calvin work though, Natsuki can't help but give off a low whistle that warbles into chirping amusement. "You're a man who makes connections, aren't you, Marshall?" She asks while stepping back a few paces as indicated, tail *droopingly* sleepy and eyeless with the lack of action and the go-along vibe that's greasing the interaction. "Directional deities, Madeleine." Natsuki answers in aside. "Tamonten -- Bishamonten, as I know the name, warrior-king and warfare god. To take so many northly steps would disrespect their master, but a southerly journey while growing knowledge - that's a clean deal. Calvin's *good*."
Khosa	Khosa just *looks* at Futaba for a moment. "I don't know why you'd think that. There's a lot of that everywhere. Of course someone's gonna take advantage of a place like this to do what they want. Dealing with people like that is part of my job, usually, so maybe I see it more than most." "What's a Metal Priest?" Khosa asks of Natsuki, curiously, because she hadn't heard that one before. "Not local, I guess." Rich patrons is completely understandable to Khosa. "We do that too, just with nobles. And not schools. I *wish* they bought things like schools and libraries. Be more useful than raising another company of soldiers, mostly... but they also support all the trading houses, and we need those, so I can't object too much." The guards' displeasure with Mothman is obvious, and Khosa carefully refrains from a grin at the last. "I don't know, you can make a pretty good bed out of straw if you have to," Khosa says. "Or so I'm told, anyway." She brings herself up to her full height. "I can read, actually, I learned a few years back. But - yeah, you're in the way." When the soldier is no longer in the way, she does step forward so she can - "Six thousand years early? Someone really built this to last." The concept of storing things like this for sentimental reason just seems strange, though. Why bother? She thought the seed vault was for emergencies. She does say, while she's reading (which she is capable of doing, but doesn't do particularly quickly), "It's like Calvin says. They want to use it to learn. Place I'm from, I've never seen any of these kinds of plants at all, they don't exist anymore." Khosa, of course, is also not from this world, but she doesn't have to add that part. "The Guidestones, though - " A pause. "I wouldn't mind seeing those, too." Khosa steps back afterwards. "Like... bad gas? Because if it's just air I don't think any of us will have a problem," she says, slightly confused. "Even stale air - can't be *that* stale yet if nobody was ever breathing in there." She leans toward Madeleine, having stepped back anyway as requested. "I don't think they're gonna let you examine their orbs no matter how much you ask," she stage-whispers.
Angela	''That miscreant is unwelcome in this sacred place.'' Angela looks to Calvin for a moment. "Er, they mean Mothman I think." Cinder murmurs to Angela. "Ah." Angela says, turning her gaze back to the soldiers. Before she can ask why they give plenty of reasons why. "Sounds kind of awesome, honestly," Random says which earns them a jab in the ribs by Justin Rook who is not a fan of, generally speaking, tomfoolery. Random sticks their tongue right back at them, which seems to be normal between them. Angela doesn't realize the soldier got the phrasing wrong with that last one until Calvin points it out but fortunately her poker face is immaculate. ''Can't you read?'' Rook grins briefly. Random frowns. "Shit, that's a conundrum huh. Kinda a little long for a time capsule, geeze." Angela starts to try her own gambit. "In practice I've waited about that long--" But Calvin knows demons better and Angela gives ''him'' a nod of respect this time. "Do no worry. Gasses do not affect me." She says. "Uh but ''us'' though..." Cinder points out as she does, irrespective of Angela, step back with her.
Natsuki Nuki	'What's a Metal Priest?' "A Matal Priest," Natsuki begins, alternating over Madeleine's shoulder towards Khosa. "Is a particular kind of human-centric asshole from where I live. Warrior exorcists, spiritbanes, those sorts, with the common creed of hunting all sorts of spirits to purge them from their enclaves. The 'metal' part is because they usually suit up in armor and use human technology to fight instead of their spiritual power." 'I don't think they're gonna let you examine their orbs no matter how much you ask,' Natsuki's thrushsong laughter returns again, this time with a far easier source to follow. 'Uh but ''us'' though...' "Yeah, little matchstick girl and gases would be sudden fun, wouldn't it?" And probably violate their whole mission and piss off Bishamonten, perhaps. Real fun!
Futaba Nuki	"My momma donated to a library?" "She could've! But I hear they only do that for the real big money." Futaba guesses, stroking her chin slowly after a few moments. "Or the ones they want protectin' a place instead of cursin' it." "That blowhard can be heard across the forest in the night, proclaiming his greatness to all who will listen." Futaba turns her head away briefly to snicker at that, grinning widely at Madeleine once she remembers that she really wanted to find the Mothman in the first place.  The grievance airing keeps her looking away, too, and it ultimately takes Futaba transforming her mouth away just so she doesn't make any more noises at how much she's laughing on the inside at how much these soldiers despise the Mothman. Once she's calmed down enough, Futaba turns back around and- "Other way around, boss," -spits her mouth into her hand and stuffs it right into her pouch. Weirdly enough, going through all those convoluted steps for a sight gag does actually calm Futaba down enough to put her mouth back on properly while Calvin works his negotiating magic on Zouchouten's soldiers. Getting some rather interesting details about their role here and their concerns about both travel later and poison gas now, Futaba steps back a gair bit to give the soldiers plenty of room to work. "So those Four Kings of yours... What're they up to, anyway? Just curious what kinda... Stuff their guys might be protecting, since Zouchouten's already got you workin' on this stuff here."
Calvin Nash	To take so many northly steps would disrespect their master, but a southerly journey while growing knowledge - that's a clean deal. Calvin's *good*. Or is there just a sort of 'I'll stay on my side, you stay on yours' agreement about north and south with those two?     "It's a respect thing, is all," Calvin says with a little nod to show he approves. And maybe a little puffed-up in the chest for Natsuki's praise. "Even if Zouchouten didn't mind it none--and Ms. Natsuki's prolly right to think he would--those boys go up Oklahoma way unannounced, Tamonten or his people might figure Zouchouten's tryin' to say he ain't pickin' up enough slack." Just curious what kinda... Stuff their guys might be protecting, since Zouchouten's already got you workin' on this stuff here.     "They protect much and many," says the left soldier. "They keep the peace between humans and demons--and stand against the tyranny of the Milennium Ministry, that all may know what it is to truly be free, and to ink their own legends how they will."     "I don't agree with 'em on everything," opines Calvin. "But those four 'n their folks are good people. Some of Lucifer's best."     "You honor us greatly, Demon Marshal of the Assembly," intones the other soldier. I wouldn't mind seeing those, too.     "Elbert County's a damn sight more doable than Atlanta," Junior opines. "Maybe by the time you get down that way, these two'll be there to give you a warm welcome. Wouldn't that be nice?"      "Indeed!" Bad gas?      "It is neither toxic nor simply air," says one of the soldiers as he places a palm on the door to the crypt. "So we must introduce air to it, or else you may suffocate. Worry not! It is a trivial matter." His fellow joins him, and they utter a war cry in tandem. A magical force briefly shakes the ground, the seal around the door now broken. It slowly swings open.      "We should be off to the Guidestones with haste."      "Put these relics to good use, and may your travels be safe!" The two terracotta soldiers leave you to your prize, exiting through the hallway and presumably then the front door.
Calvin Nash	Inside, there's a veritable treasure trove of artifacts, packed into a small space that'll necessitate removing them one by one to be able to safely navigate it. Calvin utters a low whistle. "Damn. I ain't never seen that much shit in one place in one *piece.*"      "Look at it all," Junior marvels likewise, stroking his horseshoe mustache in amazement.      Calvin tap-tap-taps on his COMP. "Damn. We might have to get somebody out here to make a second trip."      "I'll go hop on the radio and let 'em know," Junior affirms.      Calvin, meanwhile, begins taking an inventory, while summoning the ominously robed and towering Chernobog, god of misfortune, winter and death.      "Needja to help us get this shit loaded up."      "Surely you jest," intones the gloomy figure, shouldering his greatsword to look sideways at Calvin.      "No sirree Bob. Tell you what. You help and we'll hit up a cemetery at midnight."      "Hm... very well."      There are several airtight containers--including the prized seeds which Calvin mentioned. Several of them are for plants which are likely familiar to Natsuki and Futaba, but which are no longer grown in America, judging by Calvin's reaction to them. Also in these containers are films, vinyl records, and microfilms containing (if the labels are to be believed) huge swaths of literature and philosophy thought to be forgotten, and even a few original manuscripts for movies.     The containers are far from the only thing here, though--there are children's toys, household appliances, a typewriter, a primitive calculator, and miniature reproductions of several famous Earth sculpture, such as David, a Buddha, a Moai (Calvin likes this one 'cause it's funny, looks like 'e's pissed off at somethin''), a Sphinx and even a terracotta soldier.     There's a hand operated little moving-picture machine that Calvin insists everyone come and look at for the spectacle, serving as a Rosetta Stone for English; a slew of scientific instruments like barometers, altimeters, dosimeters and various others; Calvin records these in his COMP to the best of his ability or the best-sounding suggestions from the gang. The toys, mini-statues, film, and airtight capsules will fit in the Jeep and the pickup. The rest of it, like the translator, the TV, and the various appliances, will have to be another trip.     Thankfully, Junior is--     Calvin's COMP buzzes, in between trips back and forth to the jeep. Calvin come out here QUICK bring the others he's here Who's he Who the hell you think Who moth mam dammit that aint a he. dont be ignorant. CLVIN!!     Calvin closes his COMP. "Mothman's wife is out there and she sounds pissed. Let's go."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine, having an appreciation for good theatrics, nods approvingly at the terracotta soldiers' war-cry. As the soldiers vacate the building and the gang opens the vault, she pauses to check if the doorb is completed by a similar bulge on the opposite side of the door. "Yup, that's a doorb," she says, evidently still committed to her part. Hesitantly at first, but then emboldened by a sort of cheerful camaraderie and the sense of a job well-done, Madeleine helps carry things out to the van. While she does, she chatters:     "All that stuff they were saying about the Mothman, it's not true, right? They were just... jealous, that he can go wherever and they've got jobs. Yeah, jealous. Right?" There's a note of pleading in her voice. She really wants this to go well.     Madeleine is examining a little model of Rodin's 'The Thinker' when the Demon Marshal's COMP buzzes.     "Mothman's-"     The huntress's eyes nearly pop out of her head in surprise. Considering her eyes are the infinite void of space at the end of the world, it's probably good for everyone that they don't make it all the way out.     "-wife-"     A gasp of shock - and is that a hint of betrayed indignance?     "-is out there and she sounds pissed. Let's go."     Madeleine is already running for the door. As she goes she rehearses under her breath: "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Moth - or would it be Mrs Man? I can't leave it up to chance. 'A pleasure to meet you, Miss.' No, that's too formal. 'Hey, how's it hanging?' No, that's no good either--"     By the time she reaches the courtyard she is thoroughly out of breath and out of ideas.
Calvin Nash	OUTSIDE     A pair of beady red eyes glowers at Junior from the relative darkness of a tree's abundant-leafed boughs.     "YOu moTheRfucKers! I kNew iT wAs yOu," warbles a reedy, high pitched voice. A branch in the tree wobbles twice, as if in time with an indignant tantrum.      "I wOrK nIgHts! I goT sHiT to dO! AnD I hAve tO dEaL wiTh yOu hiCkS aNd thaT bAlD iDioT reVviNg yoUr sHiTmobIles uP aNd dOwN thE inTersTatE, plAyiNg grAb aSs wItH the pIgS, aNd nOw yOu goT tHe clAymaTioN bLoWjoB bRoTheRs stoMpiNg doWn mAin stReEt iN ShiT CiTy!" Another two wiggles of that same branch.
Angela	Angela's team follows along, quieting down. She doesn't have much else to say until they get in and see the artifacs. Angela raises an eyebrow. She doesn't seem to realize the importance--well, she was TOLD the importance--but she doesn't seem quite as impressed by it. She is leery of vaults locked away for a time and a half. Of seeds locked away for hundreds or thousands of years. Fortunately, this is literal which is less horrible, but her mood drops slightly all the same. "Hm?" Something draws her attention and she points towards the vinyl records. "What are these?" She asks of the records. "Why are these?" But fortunately soon... "Mothman's wife... I see, you must hurry. Go my Agents." Cinder and the rest saunter out.
Khosa	"Huh. I get trying to keep some kinds of spirits out, it's not like anyone wants the undead in their town," Khosa says. "Nobody wants a zombie or a ghoul to come up through the street. But I guess you're not talking just about that." She glances toward Futaba. "Don't drop it," she says, when she holds her mouth in her hand. "And don't let anyone pickpocket it either. That could get pretty awkward." The soldiers - not golems after all - seem to be agreeable, though, and Khosa has nothing against them. She inclines a respectful nod. "Thanks," she says, when they tell her about the crypt's air. "I won't breathe it, then." In fact, she has some respect for unbreathable air; she not only gives it some time to dissipate, she starts fanning to make it go faster, holding her breath. "Sounds like a good trip," she agrees with Junior. "I mean, easier than this one, right? Maybe fewer Fiends too." She grins. Khosa lets some of the others enter first. Or not enter, given how crowded it is in there. "Damn, they were *right* to call it a vault." Khosa recognizes only a fraction of it - sealed containers, some statues, some of the children's toys, those she understands. Dosimeters and the moving-picture machine and vinyl records, not so much. "I can help carry," she says, ducking back out. "It's too tight in there for me to start dragging. Anything you can get out of the room, though, I can pick up." Khosa is, when she exerts herself, fantastically strong; if Calvin and Junior think the Jeep can carry something, Khosa is strong enough to get it there, though she chooses to take more than one trip for bulk reasons. She's about half loaded up for the current trip when Calvin's COMP buzzes. "Mothman has a wife?" she asks, confused, before very gently setting down the sealed containers in her arms. She's not going to run out into what might end up a brawl with her arms full. "Got to run more," Khosa says to Madeleine as she threatens to pass - Khosa is very definitely *not* out of breath. "Or talk less. Look, there's your guy, or girl, whichever." She squints up toward the tree. "Time to go say hi." She gives Madeleine an encouraging, but firm, nudge forward. Then Khosa asides to Natsuki, who has been the best at answering her questions: "So what's a claymation? I know they're fired clay."
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine arrives outside to a whole moth-tantrum. (Mothman-trum?) Panting for breath, the huntress takes a moment to assess the situation while the Mothman rants on and on. She's halfway through a mental review of the MCRD's official Intelligent Cryptid De-Escalation Protocols when Khosa pushes her forward and she nearly loses her balance.     "Woooaaaoooaaaooohh!" Okay, not the introduction she was hoping for. We can work with this! "Woah, hey, shhh, slow down, we hear you, it's okay, it'll be fine," she says, attempting just about every phrase in the book at once. "Listen, I, uh, I'm Madeleine, big fan of yours," - she points to the "I (moth symbol) MOTHMAN" print on her crop-top - "And wouldn't you know it, I just happen to be looking for you."     She mentally chews over the mothman's complaints about the noise before continuing, her body language conciliatory in the extreme. "I know these fellas can get kinda rowdy sometimes, but I promise hitching a ride was the only way I was gonna get to you in one piece. Now, how about you come on down from that tree - I know, it must be cozy up there, but I wanna see eye to eye, y'know? - and I can tell you what I wanted to ask. Oh, before I forget-" She rummages around in her pack, withdrawing a few sticky-sweet crimson strands. "Want some Red Vines? I bet they don't make this stuff around here anymore..."
Futaba Nuki	"I don't know why you'd think that. There's a lot of that everywhere. Of course someone's gonna take advantage of a place like this to do what they want." "Hnn... Yeah, nah, you're right. Thought there'd be fewer crooked ones than we got back home, at least." Futaba replies to Khosa with a troubled frown, like she's trying to rearrange a few things in her head before realizing that she already knew this somewhere deeper in her mind. "... Or fewer on average? No, that's just fudgin' numbers when there's so many more of 'em around... Dang it." She inhales deeply to try and recenter her mind on something a little less unpleasant, then turns right to Khosa as something else she mentioned catches her ears. "Dealing with...? You got a radar or somethin' for those kinds of folks?" She asks, shakes her head as it already starts to sound like an impossible ask, then tilts her head just a bit. "... Can I see it?" "Don't drop it," "And don't let anyone pickpocket it either." The temptation is strong, and Futaba is feeling mighty weak at that moment. She brings her hand up to her mouth a few times, like she's really thinking about dropping it back into her hand, but... No, she really needs to behave, at least until they all get back safe. The mouth gets shoved back onto her face, and Khosa might notice Futaba getting that mischievous glint in her eyes for an undisclosed reason. "It's a respect thing, is all," "those boys go up Oklahoma way unannounced, Tamonten or his people might figure Zouchouten's tryin' to say he ain't pickin' up enough slack." "Huh. So things really ain't that different out here than they are back home with the..." Futaba snaps her finger sa few times to try and jar her memory, eventually looking over at Natsuki for a hand. "Those competing shrine maidens out in the... Ugh, where was it. You know the ones I'm talkin' about, right?" "They keep the peace between humans and demons--and stand against the tyranny of the Milennium Ministry, that all may know what it is to truly be free, and to ink their own legends how they will." "Peacekeepers, huh?" After what Khosa said, Futaba actually doesn't just speak off the gut, instead letting that thought roll around a little first. "Well, doesn't sound like they'll be out of the job anytime soon. Not if they're getting harassed by the Red Dogs or anyone else like that." Just as well, too, since something else the left soldier says really catches her attention: "Sounds like you ain't a fan of that Ministry, huh? Just hearing about 'em isn't really making me feel too fond of 'em, either, especially-" She nods at Calvin. "-since I'm already throwin' in with Calvin here and the Demon Marshals." After seeing the soldiers off, Futaba chuckles lightly and crosses her arms behind her head. "I like those guys. Figured they'd be bigger sticks in the mud-" She doesn't look around. She might not have caught that. "-but they were pretty chill. Anyway. Let's see what we got!" "Damn. We might have to get somebody out here to make a second trip." Indeed, there's a lot to get, and Futaba whistles lightly at all the artifacts to be recovered before grinning widely. "Eh, hold that thought." Without explaining further, she starts pocketing things in her trusty ninja pouch. She leaves the airtight containers that Calvin will likely want to actually hold onto, of course, but the big equipment? The translator, the TV, the appliances? Futaba's just shlorping them right into her pouch, like she's shrinking them down to fit them in or something. "Mothman's wife is out there and she sounds pissed. Let's go." Futaba pauses in mid-appliance shove, looks over atCalvin, then over at Madeleine. "Uhhh. You got anything on this, Maddie? I ain't ever heard of a Mothma'am, but I bet she just found out about that ass statue."
Futaba Nuki	Heading back outside to rejoin Junior, Futaba hears the warbling noise, and she hears the colorful commentary. Heeding part of Khosa's earlier advice, Futaba makes sure to place her mouth carefully into her inside-pocket so she doesn't lose track of it while also stopping herself from laughing and potentially making things worse for Madeleine's intended negotiation. She just needs to stand nearby with her arms crossed and her tail fat, so she can try to look intimidating without a single word. It's a good thing she still has that mouth-obscuring mask on, although her eyes still show that laughter struggling to get out.
Natsuki Nuki	While it might be the contents of someone's very nice storage unit in a down-home kind of way with the relics on offer, when the preserving gases clear and Natsuki gets a good eye on the contents she stands still in a quiet awe that strips away much of her giggly-tweeting mood and leaves in its place a practiced inventorying. It strikes her how much the room speaks of an earnest hope to share culture that, six-thousand-and-whatever years later, much of these things would be legend themself - lost language, science, literature - scripts. Sentimental, almost able to taste the cracked seal on 'legend' in a real way - perhaps the gas talking - Natsuki shakes her head and dips her chin for a moment, then lifts with decision made. Taking unhurried steps into the cache after Calvin, she joins him shifting down packages carefully. "Festival time." Natsuki mutters, rolling up jacketsleeves and shirt-cuffs, and tightening the bandanna about her hair. Careful-handed she helps shift the artifacts out, returning to snickers when Chernabog is summoned. "Bob," 'Bobu'. "-huh? Does something *fun* happen at midnight? Because half the way we came might count as the cemetary - or does it have to be marked special with graves, and not rubble and ashes and mold?" Ever the occultist, she's happy to start shifting things to the vehicle, humming tunelessly as she works. It's not the birdsong of her laughter, but a pace-counting sound that carries on as long as she's not bothered... But then she is. By the Moth Ma'am! "Calvin we are *not* here for a myth's side piece!" Natsuki protests as she jogs at Calvin's back again, pulling alongside. "Did you even confirm Mothman's wife was hot? Ask Junior!" She insists, but... As it turns out there is a cryptid in the bushes talking shit. "Oi! Oi oi oi!" Natsuki takes the little poster fully seriously as she advances, an 'oi!' a step that comes staccato to her pre-questioning challenge. "What do you mean 'up the interstate?' Were you listening the whole time? Were you *there* the whole time you little bush goblin? It's a good thing that manzai comedy skit is going to fuck up that stupid hole, maybe they'll kill all those pig *loser wannabe* demons and do everyone a favor!" Now, looming at a bush, Natsuki plants both her hands on her hips and leans towards the beady-eyed foliage. "I work all fucking day and night, I'm twenty four seven. Don't hold up a short stick unless you want it measured. Expect some more hicks, too, by the way! Get real used to all *sorts* of locals crawling their way up here! What's it to you, shortstack?"
Calvin Nash	Futaba's handy ninja pouch earns her a hoot and a hearty slap on the back from Calvin. She doesn't know it, but that earned her a beer later. --- Were you listening the whole time? Were you *there* the whole time you little bush goblin?     "I wAs tRyInG to sLeEp, goD dAmN yoU! I kePt geTtiNg woKeN uP, thEn goInG cLoSeR and cLoseR to HoTlAnta tHinKinG yoU aLl woUld fucK oFf, bUt nO!" Natsuki can infer from his tone that he doesn't want the smoke, he just wants to piss and moan.     "Ma'am," says Calvin, holding out the Hand, palm out, striding confidently towards the tree. "First of all, don't call it that. Nobody calls it that. Now, there's a perfectly good explanation--"     "Do I lOoK liKe a mA'aM to yOu? Do yOu kNow wHo the fuCk I aM?"     "Calvin..." Junior despairingly utters.     "Sorry 'bout that," says Calvin, taking his own foolish mistake in stride. "Dunno how I coulda made that mistake. You're Mothman. Obviously."     "I'm tHe moTheRfuCkiNg--waIt, wHat? YoU knOw mE?"     "Yes sir I do. In fact, all of us do."     "Oh... wElL... thEn yoU oUghtA bE mOrE rEspEctfuL," comes his reply. He clearly wasn't expecting that answer.     "I'm glad you said that," says Calvin, turning to quietly bribe Natsuki with a bag of dried fruit he pulls from his COMP's inventory. "Don't mind him none," says the Marshal to Natsuki under his breath. "He just don't know a real somebody when he sees one, obviously." He's not pleased with the behavior either, says the look in his eyes, but he can at least give Natsuki something for putting up with it.      Clearing his throat and turning back to Mothman, in a more audible volume for someone in a tree, "See, respect's why we're here."     "HuH?"     Calvin gestures to Madeleine just as Khosa pushes her forward.     The figure swoops out of the tree, a shadow against the light of the sun, wide wingspan, red eyes, a blur of darkness and lantern eyes... coming clearly into definition as a diminutive little goober with a little open-mouthed smile, alighting on the top of the Jeep. "OK. HaPpY? NoW wHaT the fUcK--hOlY sHiT is tHaT cAnDy? GIMME!" Swish.     Despite not having any arms, Mothman is pretty good at snatching Red Vines out of Madeleine's hand. One fell swoop has them liberated from her grasp and in his mouth, where he slurps them up with relish. "oK kEeP tAlKinG."
Calvin Nash	"Madeleine here knows what an important fella you are. Ain't that right?" He glances to the side, nodding towards her to prompt a little more greasing the wheels.     "Mr. Mothman, sir, what I'd like to do is make a contract with ya, right here, right now. Just a first step, on the road to bigger, better things. To Oklahoma. Then everything's gonna come up Mothman. You hear? No more sleepin' in trees and gettin' bothered by Red Dogs 'n Oni 'n who knows what else."     "ThEy gOt AC?"     "Air conditioning?" He nods stiffly and matter-of-factly. "They do where you're goin', yes sir," he proudly proclaims, hands-on-hips. "*Brand new* facility, just to study and learn from high profile fellas like yourself."     "WhAt dO I gEt oUt oF iT?"     "'Side from magnetite enough to last you the rest of your life?" He frowns. "Peaceful days, interesting nights, company that's worth your time. Ms. Madeleine's an *expert.*"     Mothman hops twice on the roof of the jeep, then with another little hop, turns towards Madeleine. "No BuLlsHiT? YoU waNnA sTudY me? WrItE boOkS anD dO lEaRniNg sHit?"
Khosa	"Midnight's when those ghouls come out," is Khosa's guess to Natsuki. "Or so I'm told. I don't exactly go checking exactly when they rise. Normally I don't get called in until they're already up and we know about them." Some kind of radar? "What? No! Why would I have that? I'll explain later," Khosa promises Futaba. "I don't mean dealing with here, though, I mean at home. But I'll make an exception for those Red Dogs." She spotted that mischevious glint, but all it means is that Khosa keeps slightly more of an eye on Futaba until she has to get to carrying. With Mothman, Khosa definitely lets Madeleine take the lead, because Mothman alternately annoys her and makes her laugh and she's pretty sure he's not going to appreciate either reaction (well, maybe the 'annoy', he seems like he's trying to get a rise out of her). And though Khosa generally has a short temper, it's not aimed at *her*, so she can just let Madeleine handle it. Easy. *She's* not here to contract with anyone. She does attempt to steal one of Natsuki's dried fruits if she opens the bag up, though. "You sound like some of the guys I used to know," she says, "when you go like that. One of them went for a gladiator. Not sure where the other one ended up." She doesn't disapprove of talking back to Mothman.
Madeleine Cadrasteia	As Mothman swoops down into the light, Madeleine finally gets a good look at the creature. "You didn't say he was so CUTE," she gushes. She nearly goes in for a hug when Mothman comes in to snatch the Red Vines, but thinks better than to ambush the fellow with affection so soon.     "Madeleine here knows what an important fella you are. Ain't that right?"     "That's right!" she says, with an enthusiastic fist-pump. "I'm not wearing this shirt for nothin'. They tell stories about you on other planets, lil' fella. That's how famous you are!" Is it really wise to call him little? He could be sensitive about his height.     "Ms. Madeleine's an *expert.*"     This has Madeleine feeling a little smug. "Yeah," she says, hands planted firmly on her hips, feet apart in a power stance. "Expert with a capital E. And it'd be an honor to get a chance to work closely with someone of your standing in the cryptid community."     "No BuLlsHiT? YoU waNnA sTudY me? WrItE boOkS anD dO lEaRniNg sHit?"     "No bullshit," Maddie says. Now that Calvin's made the bulk of the offer - all that magnetite - clear, she's willing to take a chance. "And the best part is," she continues with a conspiratorial lean-in, "We'll do all the writing, so you don't haveta." It's a shot in the dark, but something tells her this Mothman isn't much for book learning.
Angela	"Boy, this was a nice mission all in all. The fight was cool and it was mostly kinda checking out Cal's world." Cinder says. "Cal... Yes. This was an enjoyable experience, all told." Angela says when-- Mothman. Angela stares at Mothman. She seems to be at a bit of a loss even when Calvin isn't managing the discussion. Eventually, she has just one question. "Unrelated, do you object to being recorded, Mr. Mothman?" Angela asks, now that she knokws it's Mothman not Mothma'am. she is frowning severely at being so misled so easily. Rook continues to smoke. Random leans against him, smiling lazily. Cinder sees Rook smoking and draws out a cig herself and lights it with Fourth Match Flame, but at least she steps away a bit.
Natsuki Nuki	And so, the day is SAVED... thanks to a shirt that explains the shirt. Natsuki is at a 'try it, I dare you, please' snarl partially because she doesn't even think the little bush goblin she's sneering at is the actual Mothman, until Calvin ventures that information and the misunderstanding dies. "Tch." Natsuki uplooks at the Mothman, readying for something more intense with a bristle, and then Calvin rounds on her and is getting treats out. Plied with dried fruit, Natsuki snatches the bag with one hand as she pivots, 'bought off' in clear semaphore and muttering 'lucky!' and taking a step away to consult her prize. Madeleine had been all over the Mothman all trip so now she got her prize and Natsuki got... 'her' prize. Compared to the little red-eyed poster, Natsuki was minimum satisfied. Pulling two pieces out and holding the bag while dropping one slice for her tail to lunge-snap out of the air and lifting the second to her mouth, Natsuki's bag-holding arm is victim to Khosa's pilfering. "Hey!" She reflexively challenges, but then grins when she sees who it is fully. "When I go like that, huh? Well, it's because I don't take garbage from 'those guys', yeah? I can play the perfect priestess and smile, if it's worth my time, but, honestly? I like yelling. Roaring always feels affirming, don't you think?" Getting another few pieces of fruit out to munch on before offering seconds to Khosa, Natsuki squints and then remembers... "The guys I knew that talked like that were in student discipline. Fun guys, really." Pausing for a moment, Natsuki grins the Mul's way. "Successful gladiators, or," A chuff emits from her. "Retired?" Happy to talk about the thuggish friends and ex-coworkers in her life, Natsuki might at least tolerate the trip back. Maybe. As long as the Mothman continues to not want that smoke.
Calvin Nash	Unrelated, do you object to being recorded, Mr. Mothman?     "HeLl nO I doN'T. GeT mY gOoD sIde!" He preens for Angela and the agents.     You sound like some of the guys I used to know.     "I like that oi oi oi thing she does," agrees Junior. "And the eye thing." It's because I don't take garbage from 'those guys', yeah?     "Hm." It sounds like Calvin liked that, even if he can't comment fully on it at the moment. It'd be an honor to get a chance to work closely with someone of your standing in the cryptid community.     "Uh..." Mothman hops twice, his beady red eyes glimmering as he wings it. "YoU'Re riGhT! It wOuLd bE. GuEsS I cAn dO a sOliD foR tHe foLkS in tHe fLyOveR sTatEs iF thEy knOw wHat I'm wOrTh."     "So we got a deal?" asks Calvin, admirably suppressing the urge to scoff at 'flyover states.'     "YeaH, MaRshaL, wE goT a dEaL."     Calvin nods and holds out his COMP, flipping the screen open. A load command of some sort autoscrolls a lengthy looking wall of text, no doubt formalizing a contract that Calvin and Mothman seal with an exchange of magnetite. It's visible as a purple, misty tether stretching from Calvin's palm to Mothman's center of mass.     "I'm thE moTheRfuCkiNg MotHmAn! An oMeN oF tHe unKnOwn, tHe loSt, aNd tHe foRgoTten pLaCes oF thE woRlD!"     Mothman formally announces his introduction with the completion of his contract.     "NoW... wAkE mE uP wHeN wE gEt tO OkLaHoMa!"     With that, the little goober digitizes himself, flying as a stream of data into Calvin's COMP.     Calvin heaves the sigh of a job well done. "What a piece of work. Great work, y'all. Good stuff. Ms. Madeleine, I can get 'im on a DCM for you tonight, soon as we finish offloadin' the shit from the vault. And you, and everybody else, y'all're free to join me at the Last Resort after work to drink, shoot the shit, whatever."