Scene #9274: Baker and Seventh

Owner	Pose
Distortion Dets.	"My apologies that it's just been a day, but the Distortion isn't intent on emerging just when convenient. That is to say, we've received word of a potential new case. An apartment manager out in District 13 reported a slew of loud noises in the early hours of the morning today, and things that she couldn't quite explain- rock that looked like it was moving itself, sneaking out deeper into alleyways. I believe she said... When she went out to the alleys herself, after, she found 'damaged cars, broken fences, and cut bits of powerlines..?' This was hours past." Detective Moses explains, by radio, to the Faded Print Watchtower. Mm. We won't be so lucky as with yesterday, where the Distortion had no reason to move around. We can't delay if we're to investigate. If you can find transport there, do so. Ezra and I will find our own way." District 13 Backstreets: 'Harbor Glen' Residential Development Area At an (in)convenient halfway-point traversing backstreets from District 12, where the Faded Print and other familiar, if currently less convenient, infrastructure resides, and District 14, where Moses' Office is, Harbor Glen is a regionally prominent fishing town. Coincidentally, it is also landlocked, save for a wide transport canal tracing its borders. Tall, close-packed apartment hi-rises cluster in the center, and sprawling aquaponics warehouses and mud ponds extend from all sides. For all the reputation that the Backstreets have, dangerous, uncivilized, and impoverished, proper residential areas like Harbor Glen are the closest to secure and stable one can come by outside a Nest. Still, the signs that this isn't a nest are everywhere. Buildings are more fortified, with threats like the Sweepers still present, stores are less stocked, the air itself reeks of pollutants like ammonia and nitrogenous biomass, and seagulls shriek overhead. The area today's call brings you to isn't even central to the zone, but out in the older, more decrepit industrial sprawl: an abandoned old cannery. The old Cannery, really, by the people of Harbor Glen, and by the today's contact- who is standing out on the streetside meeting location, alone. Gail, a local, isn't today's client- he's the client's nephew, and he doesn't want to be here. Scruffy and younger, dressed in galoshes and cut-off overalls, he's clearly off-shift from some factory farm around here, having his time spent to play tour guide for the arriving Elites. Hands knitted behind his head, he sighs as people actually start to show up. "You're the bunch I've got to show the tracks to? We should really get goin', if you are, I don't like hanging around here. There's a bunch of sketchy guys who use this spot, and I haven't seen 'em around, so here's betting they've seen me, instead, and that's-" A car screeches by, slipping to a halt yards away, parking sloppily on the alley side. Gail's hand slips to their pocket on instinct, reaching for some hidden weapon, maybe- but the two that get out from the car aren't threats, but Moses and Ezra, looking both quite rattled. Ezra from the passenger side, Moses driving. "... I'm usually quite punctual. Ahem. Detective Moses, so you must be..." "The unlucky guy who has to show you all around, yeah." "Mm. He has an attitude, Ezra." Moses closes the distance, brushing off her blouse, and throwing her folded-up jacket around her shoulders to wear in the cape-like fashion she usually does. Ezra, meanwhile, sits on the hood of the car, queasy looking from the driving still. "Detective..? I wanna hold back. I don't feel great, after that all. Call me if you need the backup, okay..?" "We were already late. I got us here safely." "But it's a rental! Those make me nervous, with all the extra fees! You drive like a demon!" "Mm."
Distortion Dets.	"Look, can we get going? I scouted around a little, and like, you're all really going to want to see the cannery's entry gate. Because it's not there. Gone gone. Same alley to look around if you wanna, but... Gate, gone, figure that's more...?" He shrugs, exhales, and starts off- walking backwards for a little, to look out at the ragtag group. "Damn. There's a lot of you, huh?" All along the alleyway he takes the group down are impact craters in old asphalt, gouges in nearby concrete, and a few telephone poles sit leaning off to the side against adjacent buildings. But Gail is right- where a large loading gate once stood for the old Cannery, is a gaping, jagged hole in the building wall. Peering into the internal gloom, Moses lights up her pipe. "Can I have one?" "What?" "You know, a pipe like that? Or a cigarette, or something? Auntie doesn't let us smoke at the complex, and we can't on the job, but it looks cool, so-" "No." "Okay, okay! Just asking! Hey, uh... is something moving..?"
Veronica	The only sound from within the cannery is a faint hiss and crackle, reminiscent of the hum of high-voltage electronics. The scent of ozone lies over top the older smells of canning preservatives. Once inside the age of the place shows even more, with wallpaper and paint peeling all the way down to exposed brick. All around are signs of desolation turned to devastation. A ratty couch and table smashed to splinters and rags. A "ROCK FESTIVAL" poster hanging by one corner. There might be a body under that overturned machine. And there's a giant in the middle of the cannery floor. Sunlight streams from above through the cannery's broken skylights, giving a clear view of the figure. Its bulky humanoid body is made from a patchwork of building materials - brick and mortar here, stone masonry there, patches of crumpled steel and broken glass throughout. Rebar projects from chunks of concrete, and bits of building signage, no more than partial letters and spots of color, are scattered around its exterior. The thing must be at least two stories tall, towering over the remains of whatever canning equipment was still left in the place. A large hammer - a metal light-pole with a chunk of street on the end - is held in one hand while the giant's other hand grasps a cluster of three or four power lines running from somewhere within its body. The lines are live, crackling and hissing in water pooled at the construct's feet. Each shoulder bears a large speaker like a guitar amplifier, from which issue a voice: "Oh, are you the backup? You don't look like the backup." Crunch, crunch. Somebody's eating. "Means I may not have to squish you."
Redshift Operators	The Redshift Operators are still recovering from the Photographer -- or at least, their astronaut-type friend is recovering emotionally, anyway. So today's deployment is smaller: A lone gunman and his ninja-cyborg medic, both dressed in locally-styled "combat-semiformal" with goggles and masks obfuscating their faces. Same coverage, less standing out. Same armor value too, courtesy of their dedicated armorsmith. The gunman keeps his main grenade-launcher slung over his shoulder. "Does look cool. But never let 'consuming' be your cool thing. Trust me, you want something cool to blow on, you get a fucking harmonica, kid." He mutters as he approaches the facility. "Damn. It's like a Durand walked through here..." And it's even more like that when he breaches the door (pre-smashed, but yet to be dramatically rushed-through by an armed gunman). He keeps the grenade launcher trained on the humanoid, but he speaks gruffly and firmly. "I only take point. What about you, you like the rest of those fucked-up bastards with some weird new kind of head on their shoulders? Twisting up the world and going monster-mode?" "I would not disqualify such. A golem, wrought from urban material... You appear a metaphor, not a human." The cyborg keeps her own blade drawn and ready. "And a lethal one. Are you of clear mind and purpose? Are those whose paths you shadow deprived of themselves?" In Moses' view, a vast three-eyed snake coils the humanoid, and a half-dozen future-variants of the cyborg encircle from a dozen angles simultaneously.
Angela	The Blade Lineage has been attracting some new recruits, including this maniac who joined wanting to learn the 'Way of the Blade' from the Lineage after they an altercation where members of the Kurokumo clan was repeatedly kicking this guy in the stomach and interfered. So they handed the guy a sword and said to walk with the Yurodiviye-Lineage Alliance and see what happens. Despite having been picked this guy up in the process of getting beat up, he is a muscular, well built guy--slightly under 6 foot and broad shouldered with toned abs that you can see because he is not wearing a shirt but he is covered in another ink that he might as well be wearing one. He has the word LOVE tattooed on his neck and a pair of massive dragons from his arms to his chest clashing with one another and breathing fire and lightning at one another that takes up most of the rest of his skin space. His entire back seems to be taken up by a large scowling oni with massive teeth and massive eyebrows. With him is Sonya, because he wants to see a Distortion in person and also get more accustomed to Moses and Ezra. It's important to make a lot of appearances early on so they can get on the same page and ideally get along and, failing that, be able to work with one another with few problems. "So they said your name was--" Sonya says. "Call me... Kuwaba!" The new swordsman of Blade LIneage says. The sides of his hair have been shaved and the center is messy, spiky, and colored magenta and orange like he tried to spill a sunset on his head. "I'm gonna be a hero of the Backstreets, just you watch...!" "ahah... right... So--ahh, there they are." Sonya smiles broadly at Moses, and then Gail, subtly stepping forward like he intends to handle the talking. "The whole gate? Was it smashed, destroyed... ... Stolen?" "Show us this gate, friend... I will defeat this terror with my Dividing Blade--" Kuwaba adds before slowing down when he sees the craters. "Mm mm... Or perhaps we can offer peace, yes...!" He slows down as he sees the ROCK FESTIVAL POSTER too. "Oh sweet! Rock Festival! I love that band--!" Wait. There's a what? rHe slowly turns back to the creature there, though calling something like this a creature seems wrong. Sculpture, maybe? Kuwaba stares at what he sees. "Ah, I do not believe we are ''backup'' exactly..." Sonya says. "That's an incredible...construction you have there. My name is Sonya and I am a representative of the Yurodiviye. Would you mind ... talking with us?" "Your hammer is, like, fucking sick did you make this yourself, goddamn you got like real artistic chops." Kuwaba adds.
Hibiki Tachibana	"Oh, don't worry about it... like you said, they're not gonna wait for us." ...Is what Hibiki said, though honestly, she's still pretty exhausted, and slightly concerned about potentially having to fight again so soon. It was fine yesterday, but doing it again so soon might be a little more strainful than she'd like... Well, not like it'll stop her from going still. ... "Oh, don't worry about i--" Somehow, Hibiki got here before Moses and Ezra, despite ostensibly having no actual method of transportation. Did she walk? She must've walked. There's no other visible explanation. She's barely through reassuring Gail before both he and she get cut off by the screech of ties, getting her to turn and blink as the pair step out. There's a comment ready, but as soon as she sees them get out-- "You were... the one driving, Detective...? Huh..." Whatever she thinks of that, she doesn't add on, silently swallowing as she follows along after Gail while offering him a helpless shrug when he speaks about their numbers. "...It helps to have a lot of good friends watching out for you." Her expression and tone both get notably more quiet and serious once the damages in the alleyway come into view, glancing between them as they walk. "'Rock that looked like it was moving by itself'... wasn't that how the report went? All these holes and gashes sure make it seem like it... it had to have been pretty big, too." Hibiki mumbles, only stopping in her tracks briefly once they come to the gate, blinking up at it. "... ...Yeah, pretty big." She resumes keeping pace with the gang as the inside of the cannery becomes apparent. And along with it... Oh. Yeah. Pretty... big. She has to crane her head up towards the golem, which honestly is a lot more attention grabbing than the somewhat grimy surroundings. Give her a second to shut her jaw. "You're--" She processes the sound of eating coming from the speakers on the urban giant's shoulders, and compares that to the transformed Distortions and even some of the physical changes the Sephirah went through during their Meltdowns. She's been around the block enough to at least have to ask, only a little bit of confusion on her face measuring against the wariness of this very likely post-fight scene before them. "... ...Er. Wait, are you-- .../inside/ of there...?"
Tamiel Luxis	Tamiel found herself behind the Faded Print, gnawing at her lip. She tugged at the sleeve of her hoodie, I'm alone, right...? Whether or not she was, she was content to assume it so. Under her breath, she murmured, "Umbral Prism," and the shadows congealed around her, dark goop resolving cleanly into skirt and sleeveless hoodie and long, iridescent scarf. She sank, then, into the shadow of the Faded Print. One with keen enough eyes might notice of a flicker of darkness slipping rapidly from shadow to shadow, across streets, over buildings, until fading from view entirely. ____________ As it neared contact, that shadow coiled evasively into an alley. And out of it stepped Tamiel, fast-walking toward Gail. "We'll--" There's a screech and a howl, and Tamiel winces in the middle of her attempt at comfort as Moses...Drives? Crashes? Into park. "...Make sure you get through safe." She finishes, lamely. Tamiel's hopes that this might resolve peaceable flicker as she starts to see craters and fissures where the landscape has been rent around them. "Mm mm... Or perhaps we can offer peace, yes...!" "I hope so..." A swallow. To Moses' sight, her eyes are completely black, dripping an ichor that drips down her face like tears. Her wing-shards held together by a spiderweb of dark ink, with fleshy green eyes looking in every direction--two toward Ezra, one to each other member of the party, but the rest them ahead, toward the looming cannery. She gapes, for a moment, as she sees the walking monolith of masonry in front of her, taking a step back. Three of the wing-eyes catch onto the body crushed under fallen steel. "Who...Was that?" Unspoken went the question, and why did you kill them?
Father Berislav	LAST NIGHT "I saw water proceeding out of the temple; from the right side it flowed, and all those to whom that water came shall be saved, and shall say, alleluia." The priest kneels, shirtless, over a dented tub full of soapy water, vigorously dragging a cassock over a rigid washboard. He's been at it for a little over an hour; blood doesn't come out easily. "The Lord has chastened me severely, but he has not given me over to death," he intones, his effortful washing of the garment imparting a slight vibrato to his prayer. "Open for me the gates of the righteous; I will enter and give thanks to the Lord. This is the gate of the Lord through which the righteous may enter. I will give you thanks, for you answered me. You have become my salvation." The sound of a sung psalm carries through the old hostel, over the splashing of his work. "Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his love endures forever." He checks his work, finds no stains, and moves to hang the garment up by the open window with the help of a few clothes pins, where the sunlight and the sweltering heat of a building with one struggling window unit will tomorrow do what a dryer would otherwise easily handle tonight. EARLIER TODAY "...I see. I can find transport easily enough," he says. "I'll be there as soon as I'm able, I'm just finishing up an errand here. See you soon!" Retrieving the cell phone held to his ear by his shoulder to disconnect his radio app, he makes one last pass with the needle, then takes a step back to observe his handiwork. The cassock had hung in tatters before, thanks to Lumir's razor-sharp spools of film. Berislav's work is rough but effective. He smiles, then heads over to the bar, retrieves a butane lighter and uses it to light a brass censer, waving it back and before before the hanging, now-dried cassock. "I declare this cassock resotred to the use for which it has been dedicated and consecrated." He snuffs the censer carefully, then lowers the garment from its drying spot and slips it on. "You're on your last legs, aren't you? Not that I blame you," he says, running a finger over rough stitchwork. "You've been through a lot." The priest sighs and leaves the hostel. NOW When Berislav said he'd find transport, he meant that he'd be the transport. His work on the cassock wasn't subtle, with stitchwork visible despite being the same shade of black--but it holds up incredibly against what he puts it through, leaping from rooftop to rooftop at a speed that shouldn't be possible for a human being, much less one in garb that generates as much drag as his flowing priestly attire. He slows up a few blocks shy, because people in the City, like people anywhere, really, tend to react poorly to other people leaping from rooftops to land unscathed within arm's reach of them. Instead, he makes a sideways flip off of a building a block or two away, catching a downpipe with his hand and descending in a controlled slide. This allows him to come across Gail with a friendly smile, instead of a menacing thud of a landing. "Hello, there," he says on the approach with a little wave. "I'm Father Berislav," he adds once he's in inside-voice range. "I suppose that makes you Gail!" Can we get going? "Of course. Lead the way!" There's a lot of you, huh? "That wasn't always the case! I'm hoping our numbers stay that way, if not increase even further." Is something moving? Inside the cannery, Berislav's gaze drifts upwards to watch the beams of sunlight filter through the broken skylights, and stops when he sees what the light reveals. "We're no friends of the City's sinful enforcers, if that's what you're asking," says Berislav, projecting his voice and looking the figure in what passes for its head. "I'm Father Waters Berislav. Before you ask, I'm not a father in the literal sense; 'father' is a spiritual title," he says, allowing himself a bit of levity for the tense situation. "Who am I speaking with?"
Distortion Dets.	'You were... the one driving, Detective...? Huh...' "Yes? Is there a problem?" Moses huffs. A second later, "Not a scratch on it. I don't know what Ezra is so worried over. I've done this all my life. There's only so much care you need to take with it." "We could have gotten pulled over, you weren't looking at the speed limits! Tickets, fees, that adds up!" "Mm." 'Hello, there,' "Yo! Father! How's your new guy holding up?" Ezra calls, energized enough somehow to wave, big and bright. She means Lumir, of course, the Photographer, shipped off with him and others to the Watch's hostel. By all likelihoods, the camera-headed man has just spent most of the day asleep. . . . '... ...Yeah, pretty big.' "Bet whatever did this is some mutant, crawled up out of the canal, starting up its rampage. That, or it's from one of the mud ponds, new product..." Imaginative sort, Gail is. 'Mm mm... Or perhaps we can offer peace, yes...!' "Heh. Wimp." At the entrance, Moses stops, head tilted ever so slightly to the side. She puffs out smoke, and finally commits to heading in, half remembering the tour guide- "You. Get back, stay in cover." "Huh? No way, this is the most interesting that's happened in weeks! I gotta get a better look!" Gail doesn't make it easy to keep him from sneaking further in, against literally all better judgement. Moses sighs, narrowing her eyes, and enters afterwards, letting a hand trail along the torn concrete edges where the gate rails should have sat. Long fingernails scratch at it, and Moses winces, but doesn't stop the motion. 'Means I may not have to squish you.' "Ahh, why'd Ezra have to stay outside ..." Moses mumbles. Louder, "Stay where you are, in the light. Let everyone see you and your motions clearly. If you put you hammer down, announce it first. I'd ask nicely, but-" She gestures with her pipe's tip at the overturned machine, with what's likely blood leaking out from under it, "I can't exactly take any chances." The pipe gets placed between her lips, and, with a long exhale and pained expression from the Detective, the coiling smoke that pours out wraps in tight barbed chains around her sleeve, down into a long whip against the cracked concrete flooring. The same barbs that dig into her arm rest along the length of the whip, wicked and ugly. "You have time to explain yourself, so be thorough- why are you here, and why did you do this to this place? There's nothing to solve about a monster, so tell me why you aren't one. Name, goal, context." Moses' heels clack against the floor, as she stances up near White Dwarf, without quite looking her way. "Spit it out." 'Your hammer is, like, fucking sick did you make this yourself, goddamn you got like real artistic chops.' "Right..? Like, what the hell is this freaky thing? It's like a monster out of a TV show! Oh, man, the guys are never going to believe this! Do you have a camera? Eh, wait, is it more believable if I don't take a photo?" Gail, at least, seems to like this new Blade Lineage guy! Yay! "Hey, these the guys that- y'know, linger about here..?" Gail, who REALLY shouldn't be poking around in here, is wandering off and kicking at a discarded canvas jacket, now dusty. "One of 'em would wear something like this, pretty sure.." '... ...Er. Wait, are you-- .../inside/ of there...?' "Don't be preposterous, this is clearly a Distortion, there's no 'inside', just 'as'. Be on guard, don't get fooled, and keep your eyes on that weapon, unless you think yourself tougher than industrial machinery."
Veronica	Red Dwarf: "What about you, you like the rest of those fucked-up bastards with some weird new kind of head on their shoulders? Twisting up the world and going monster-mode?" "The rest of who? I don't know who you're going on about," says the voice, "But with kit like that you're way above these fools." The giant makes a broad, almost shruglike gesture at the surrounding remnants of some kind of hideout. Then it turns, and you can see clearly that its head has no face - no features at all. Even so it appears to be looking at the Redshifts. "What are you, anyway? Never heard of masks like those. Some kind of small-time Office?" Having heard the voice a little more, and without a half-full mouth by this point, it's discernable as a young woman's. White Dwarf: "You appear a metaphor, not a human." "Hah! That's just the outside. Still flesh 'n' blood in here. Maybe you put that blade away, give me a reason to chat, we can see each other's faces, how about it?" Sonya: "My name is Sonya and I am a representative of the Yurodiviye. Would you mind ... talking with us?" "Yurodivye, huh?" The giant places its hammer into a big metal loop (another lightpost, twisted into a circle) on its waist and makes a show of rubbing its chin as it regards Sonya. "I know you lot. Something about 'haves' and 'have-nots', right? Yeah, I can get with that. What're you here to talk about?" Kuwaba: "Your hammer is, like, fucking sick did you make this yourself, goddamn you got like real artistic chops." A faint sound of one person's slow applause comes through the speakers. "I like your guts," says whoever's on the other side. "Yeah, I guess the hammer's kind of a 'statement piece', heh. The statement was 'I don't like your face, lemme rearrange it.' Not you. Those guys." The giant points at the fallen machinery and trashed hideout-space.
Veronica	Hibiki: "... ...Er. Wait, are you-- .../inside/ of there...?" "Where else would I be, kid? You see a remote control antenna on this thing?" The giant offers another exaggerated shrug that sends the live power lines whipping through the air uncomfortably near the Elites. "Oh, snap, lemme put that away," says the voice - the pilot, maybe - and the cables snake back into the giant's left arm, safely(?) tucked away from now. "Could put someone's eye out with that. Hah!" Tamiel: "Who...Was that?" "One of the 'Razorbacks'. Went after the wrong people, you know? And sometimes the 'wrong people' hit back." The giant claps a fist into the opposite palm and the whole building shakes from the gesture. "Most of 'em just split, but hey. I figure, this sorta group, teach 'em a lesson and they'll remember it." Moses: "You have time to explain yourself, so be thorough- why are you here, and why did you do this to this place? There's nothing to solve about a monster, so tell me why you aren't one. Name, goal, context." "What are you, a cop? That's fancy, with the barbed wire. Which Wing funded your augments?" A possibly awkward pause. "Already said why I'm here, lady. Teaching a lesson to folks who really needed one. Context? Open your eyes! What I've done here today is nothin' next to what you lot with your suits and your hired guns-" -a wave of the (giant, brickwork) hand in the Redshifts' direction- "-do every day." Berislav: "We're no friends of the City's sinful enforcers, if that's what you're asking... Who am I speaking with?" "Sinful enforcers, huh. Now that could be just about anyone, you ask me. But most of you didn't come in hot, and you gave me your name first, so sure. I'm Veronica." With a great rumbling, the giant begins to contract, starting with the arms and legs, stone sliding impossibly through stone like nested cardboard. It's a terrible racket, screeching metal and the grinding of brick on concrete, as the figure's torso lowers itself to the ground in a great cloud of dust. When the dust begins to clear the body is gone, replaced with a sort of... pod, composed of pale-to-brown vines. No, those are arms, human arms, hundreds or even thousands of them, in every skin tone. From where it rests on the ground the pod begins to unfold, open-palmed hands peeling away layer by layer like flower petals. The innermost layer of arms open, and out of the pod-of-hands steps a young dark-skinned woman in a T-shirt, leather jacket, and faded-pale jeans. Her left hand, including the wrist, is composed of the same twisted rebar and shattered concrete as much of the giant was. Before you can get a good look at the pod itself the unfolded arms recede away, vanishing into the woman's back. She's holding a bag of potato chips. Crunch, crunch. "'Sup," she says to Berislav with a nod. "I hope you're the one in charge here, not..." she trails off with a meaningful glance in Moses's direction.
Hibiki Tachibana	Don't be preposterous, this is clearly a Distortion, there's no 'inside', just 'as'. Be on guard, don't get fooled, and keep your eyes on that weapon, unless you think yourself tougher than industrial machinery. "But you heard the sound of eating, didn't you? If it's not doing that on the outside, then..." Hah! That's just the outside. Still flesh 'n' blood in here. Where else would I be, kid? You see a remote control antenna on this thing? Hibiki's mouth opens, just to close again and offer a helpless shrug in Moses' direction - before she has to duck down out of the way of whipping power cables, letting them pass by harmlessly yet worryingly closely overhead. "I've, uh... seen a few giant things being piloted here and there. They're usually robots though, not made out of concrete and brick... actually, a lot of them weren't piloted at all either, so maybe that doesn't matter much." Although 'concrete and brick' might be doing the construction a disservice, given the sight they see as the dust from the two-story construct dropping down begins to disperse. After seeing the appearance of it, what looked to be /arms/ in such absurd number is almost the last thing she was expecting to see. Along with the rather plainly dressed woman who steps out from within-- no, that's not even entirely accurate, with how it seems to go back /inside/ of her? "Um... Hibiki," she offers her name back, blinking a few times before she slowly slides her hands into her jacket pockets, finally taking in their actual surroundings. "I'm gonna... take a wild guess the 'Razorbacks' are a Syndicate you've been having issues with, or something along those lines. The, uh... 'sketchy guys who use this spot'," she gives a glance to Gail, already knowing the answer given his reaction to the body, and then back. At which point, she finally grimaces just a bit, though the reason isn't particularly clear. Maybe she's just getting herself back together after the triple-whammy of surprises. "...We came investigating because the locals thought they saw a bunch of moving rock cutting a messy path through the alleyways. Which apparently was you, and..." She turns her head up, at where the giant formerly occupied, and then back down to Veronica. "What... /was/ that?" She asks awfully plainly and straightforwardly.
Angela	''I hope so...'' "Peace is possible...so long as you believe in it...!" Kuwaba says, kind of proudly. ''Heh. Wimp.'' A tear wells up in an eye before Kuwaba wipes it away. "The strength of my soul cannot be extinguished." He says. He doesn't seem to have a camera on him because he only has the lower half of a Blade Lineage uniform on. He glances to Gail, beaming--and then he sees the discarded jacket and his grin fades some, "Guess some trouble got stirred... but it's never too late to start pushing in the right direction." He frowns as he realizes that 'being corpses' is probably a good point of 'too late' but he smacks his face with his hand to keep from getting discouraged. ''What are you, a cop?'' "No way! She's a Detective! That's nothing like a cop!" Kuwaba says happily. He doesn't really know what a detective is though. ''I can get with that.'' Sonya gives his winning smile. His Distortion hasn't changed. "Glad to hear it. We were hoping you could talk to this Detective--who may be able to help you." He stalls a little because even he, right now, is not really sure what to do about a DIstortion once a Distortion happens. Nor has he even heard of a Distortion quite like this. The Yurodiviye have run into seemingly peaceful Distortions but they've so far been pretty quiet manifestations. This one is ... well it's the biggest one he's seen yet. "And...well, I suppose after that we are here to offer our aid. We don't know much about your situation, though, but if you're willing to talk--we're willing to listen." Kuwaba beams happily at the giant. "Hell yeah... Well I like YOUR attitude...!" He offers his hand despite, well, EVERYTHING. "Put it 'dare!" He says, pronouncing there like that. "You can trust these folks, they helped me out of a big jam! I was getting BEAT and they saved me! They're good folks!"
Father Berislav	Yo! Father! How's your new guy holding up? "Mostly he's slept," Berislav says. "I'm sure when he's got more energy he'll be full of questions. ... Wimp. "'A harvest of righteousness is sown in peace, by those who make peace,'" says Berislav. He's looking at Gail, but it's more for Kuwaba's benefit. "There are times when peace has to be fought for, but that doesn't make us wrong for seeking it from the get-go." Like, what the hell is this freaky thing? It's like a monster out of a TV show! "A person, like you or me," says Berislav. "Only in a different shape, for the moment." Now that could be just about anyone, you ask me. But most of you didn't come in hot, and you gave me your name first, so sure. I'm Veronica. "Well, Veronica, it's nice to meet you." "You're in the presence of a Blade Lineage samurai and a member of the Yurodiviye," he says, gesturing to Kuwaba and then to Sonya. "As well, three known Multiversal terrorists, including yours truly, a martial artist who believes in second chances," He says, gesturing between the present Redshifts, himself and Hibiki, "And a Fixer who's working with us because she can't stand the passive cruelty of the City and saw a chance to fight back in the Watch. With that in mind, who do you think I mean, when I say 'sinful enforcers?'" He smiles, returning Veronica's nod as she exits. I hope you're the one in charge here, not... "Well, I do hate to disappoint, but this little outing was Moses' idea," he says. A small frown as he continues. "And I can assure you, she's more concerned about lives than property. You've heard of the incident with the Pianist, right? All of those people, dead, so quickly. That's what Red Dwarf was talking about, when he said 'a new kind of head on their shoulders.' 'Distortions,' we've taken to calling them." "She believes, and I agree, that they're some sort of defense mechanism against the inherent cruelty of the City. While I work with the Blade Lineage and the Yurodiviye in the long, long term to address and eradicate that cruelty, Moses investigates these Distortions to try and prevent another incident like that from happening." "That's why she has questions for you." What... /was/ that? "Come on now," says the mecha-piloting priest amusedly to Hibiki.
Redshift Operators	"What are you, anyway? Never heard of masks like those. Some kind of small-time Office?" "Syndicate." The gunman mutters. "Local term and the official one." The gun doesn't go down. "Redshift Operators. That's my team." He doesn't explain a lot more besides quickly muttering something under his breath. "Maybe you put that blade away, give me a reason to chat, we can see each other's faces, how about it?" "You may have the blade sheathed, but no face shown." The medic says firmly. "That is just how things are." Has anyone ever seen their faces? Huh. Well, at least the ninja doesn't hesitate to flick her long ponytail dramatically. "...your hired guns..." "Hah!" The gunman does a quick little bark of a laugh. "May-be, lady. No idea why you busted this place up, but that's our job too. We kill the bastard corporate jack-boot shit-bags and then we bomb their hole into a worse one. Don't go mistaking me for some deathsquad cruel-max guy. I shoot and I kill where my truth-in-the-blood knows some killing's needed." The cyborg gentle prods at the gunman's hands, slowly lowering his grenade launcher. He makes a grumbling sound but pulls back a bit to watch. "Hell." He mutters. "What's with brick and mortar's revenge, here?" He slings his weapon over his back, taking a critical posture when he walks forward. "Well, you've still got your head on. Unlike that music guy, or the wolf-head lady, or the photographer. Shoulders-up aren't all messed up. You like them? Started getting all weird when the power went out?" The cyborg handles some introductions. "White Dwarf, of the Redshift Operators. I hope it won't be a displeasure to know you. Know him as Red Dwarf. Disregard the color idioms of the names, we are foreign and they mean nothing of grades." She flexes the mechanical articulation of her cybernetic arm and says, "They have an even greater meaning..." "Who the hell are the Razorbacks? You look like you're pulling heavy combat ops with that brick-stack." He doesn't get near the pod, but he examines the hands with a critical goggle-lens. "And I don't want any of those shitty corps around here getting that kind of firepower backing them." He's... very open about his sentiments.
Tamiel Luxis	"One of the 'Razorbacks'." "I'm going to grab something. It's not anything I could use to hurt you, and I'm warning you in advance, okay...?" Tamiel slowly reached into the pocket of her hoodie, pulling out...A flip phone? Thoroughly jailbroken, she opened it up without much worry, scrolling expertly through options, pulling up a chat. Umbra > Umbra to Anthem Anthem > Ayuup. Whatcha need? Anthem > intel. the city, district 13. backstreets. > somewhere called harbor glen. > who are the razorbacks? sound like a gang. Anthem > A gang? You have any idea how many of those there are? Umbra > sorry. if its too much i can Umbra Is Typing Anthem > I was joking. Chill. Anthem > I'll check our files. "If you were really just protecting yourself...I don't see a problem." She wondered what her mother would think of Distortions? Humans or monsters? It didn't bear to think on it; she was always more...Strict. "People were a bit worried about how everything got all torn up," she explained to Veronica. "So. They wanted to see what was happening, and if it could hurt them. We don't work for the Razorbacks, though..." She cleared her throat, eyes locking onto Berislav as a certain person was left out of his introductions. "I'm Tamiel. Hi, Veronica."
Distortion Dets.	'The strength of my soul cannot be extinguished.' "Hah, what, you're crying at just that? Shit, ah... didn't mean to really hurt your feelings?" Gail hesitates, and... holds out a fist, for some sort of consoling bump..? "Like, don't worry about it, or something? Don't cry, that's lame..." . . . 'But you heard the sound of eating, didn't you?' "Mm, but those speakers, clearly it could be a trick, or-")] 'Hah! That's just the outside. Still flesh 'n' blood in here' "Ah, I... stand corrected. This is unusual." 'A person, like you or me,' "Damn, really? Doesn't look it... eugh, that's creepy.."
Distortion Dets.	>The giant places its hammer into a big metal loop As the mass of concrete fails to announce weapon motion, Moses, already tensed, swings the coiled chain she's been holding, at the ground near the Distortion. With a thundercrack noise, the length sticks taut in Moses' grasp. Smoky chains burst from the end near the Distortion, grasping at the side the hammer gets stowed on. The barbs aren't noticeable, not with skin so thick, but the summoned chains still try and make it impossible to retrieve the now-stowed hammer. "I told you to announce your movements. Don't take my threats lightly." Moses wraps her hand tighter around the length she's holding, as if preparing to pull it, or something else. Blood drips from her fingers, unnoticed. 'Which Wing funded your augments?' 'What I've done here today is nothin' next to what you lot with your suits and your hired guns' Moses' expression tightens, irritated. Instead of responding to those accusations, she lets her disdain sit as venom in her voice, trying to reestablish topic- "'Wrong people'? Your rival Syndicate, I presume? A territory squabble, a petty insult, something stolen? I find," Moses exhales, teeth clenched, "That there's not much worth in lessons taught to corpses. Justify this, to me, that you aren't a danger past these walls. My eyes are quite open, mind you, and I can't see that yet." "Grade Five Fixer of my own Office, Moses, Private Investigator, and don't insinuate that again." Ah, there's the refutation. Abandoning holding back her words, Moses breathes like she'd been choking down poison to- which, frankly, she always is. "Veronica. Is this," A gesture at the warehouse, and her construct-mass, "... New? A sudden occurrence, new capacities and motives... or are you just doing still what you always have?" 'One of the 'Razorbacks'' Gail, still here, snaps his fingers. "Yeah, that's what the guys called themselves! I... ah, think one of my old buddies from years back, mighta gotten involved.." He winces. "Bad day to be her, huh? Damn." Gail picks up the jacket he'd been kicking, and shakes the dust off it. In bold-lined design, a big patch on the back shows a freaky, spiky catfish, open mouthed, thrashing around. Evidently, that's the 'razorback' this group defines themselves by. "Cool jacket, but... real bad day, huh..." Gail just seems shaken. Veronica's de-transformation doesn't much change how Moses looks at her- but Moses does finally let go of the coiling chain, allowing it to whither away into smoke, and then nothing. "Mm. Lots of hands- not all yours? Interesting. Half a mind to suspect you took them off of others... ah, no, but that wouldn't fit the..." She trails off. 'I hope you're the one in charge here, not...' "Poor you." >The trembling of the building subsides From a pile of rubble, precariously pinned before by the construct, and thus now loosened, a figure scrambles free- long hair, and clad in a (far dustier) matching Razorback jacket, and makes a run for the nearest exit. Legs give out once, but the figure gets back up, runs again, and- "Hup! Got you!" From the shadows, Ezra dashes out, and wraps the running Syndicate member up in a bear hug, leaving them fully off the ground and captured. "Detective! Father! Everyone else, too! You lost someone..?" The grabbed person makes a strugglesome 'mmmphh!!' noise, and Ezra just hums, trotting over.
Father Berislav	You lost someone..? "Thank you, Ezra," says Berislav with a little nod. "Detective, Veronica, our friend here in Ezra's grasp is within my balliwick, too. If you'll excuse me a moment..." He turns away from Veronica to face Ezra's captive. "You're lucky to be alive, much less in good enough condition to run, and I think you're aware of that," he says to the entangled Razorback. "I'd like to help you keep it that way. 'Whoever brings back a sinner from wandering will save the sinners soul from death.' What's your name?" The question seems more pointed and less friendly than it did when he asked Veronica, especially with the way he steps closer to ask it. "What were you sent here to do, and on whose order?"
Veronica	Hibiki: "I'm gonna... take a wild guess the 'Razorbacks' are a Syndicate you've been having issues with, or something along those lines. "That's the right of it," Veronica says to Hibiki. "They sent us a note with a bunch of threats, saying they'd come by for 'protection' money. Thing is, I'd never heard of them before so I wasn't sure how real that threat was. Found out they were small-timers, tracked 'em out here, wham-bam thank-you-ma'am." RD: "Who the hell are the Razorbacks? You look like you're pulling heavy combat ops with that brick-stack." "Thanks," says Veronica, obviously taking 'heavy combat ops' as a compliment. "I usually am - this lot were kind of small potatoes, but little fish attract bigger fish and I thought I'd nip this one in the bud." Did she just use three different turns of phrase at once? Tamiel's contact doesn't find much on the Razorbacks beyond what Gail has already confirmed - they are (or were?) a small-time Syndicate trying to make a name for themselves and move up in the world. Local-scale protection rackets, smuggling goods into or out of the District in small shipments, that sort of thing. If Veronica's not from around here, the Razorbacks must've been making their biggest play to date. Berislav: "As well, three known Multiversal terrorists, including yours truly..." RD: "No idea why you busted this place up, but that's our job too." Veronica can't help but smile a little at Berislav's list of the Elites' credentials, and at Red Dwarf's aggressive conviction. "Hell of a resume," she says approvingly. "So most of you're from outside the City, huh. Why do you care about what happens here, haven't you got your own homes to look after?" White Dwarf flexes the mechanical articulation of her cybernetic arm. Without really thinking about it, Veronica glances down at her left hand, curling and uncurling her fingers with 'tendons' of rebar. RD: "You like them? Started getting all weird when the power went out?" "Lucky guess. Yeah, I got this during the blackouts," she says with a glance down at her artificial(?) arm. "And I think it's what lets me do... all that. Rough time for everyone, wasn't it?" She says that in a way that betrays, just for a moment, the grief hiding under her facade. She lost people during those days. Hibiki: "What... /was/ that?" RD: "What's with brick and mortar's revenge, here?" "That," Veronica says proudly, "is Baker and Seventh, or so we've taken to calling it. On account of that's what it is. Came up outta the street intersection, just in time for the second night of the blackouts. Really thought that night was gonna be my last. But the town had my back, heh." Kuwaba: "Put it 'dare!" Veronica goes in for a fist-bump with her free, concrete-and-rebar hand. Bonk.
Veronica	Moses: "'Wrong people'? Your rival Syndicate, I presume? A territory squabble, a petty insult, something stolen? "This ain't about that," Veronica says, a little surly. "This is about family, this about people who almost lost it all and are holding on with all we've got." She raises her left hand from her side to about shoulder height and curls it into a fist, not so much a threat as a demonstration of what 'all we've got' entails. "They threatened my town. My people." Moses: "Justify this, to me, that you aren't a danger past these walls. My eyes are quite open, mind you, and I can't see that yet." Veronica takes a half-step forward, her posture turning more aggressive. "You think I came here, and did this, to not be a danger? What do you think I am, some sicko killing for fun? I'm a danger, damn right! A danger to anyone who'd threaten my family or my folk. And I want them to know it! So you can tell whoever put you up to this what I told those Razorbacks: if you think you can pull one over on us, you're dead wrong. DEAD wrong, get it?" Sonya: "Glad to hear it. We were hoping you could talk to this Detective--who may be able to help you." Berislav: "Moses investigates these Distortions to try and prevent another incident like that from happening. That's why she has questions for you." Veronica takes a deep breath, and steps back out of Moses's face. Relaxes her shoulders and her hands. Looks at Moses for a long time, like she's trying to see inside the Detective's soul. "Okay. Fine. I'll hear her out. Just so long as 'preventing another incident' doesn't touch me or my town." Moses: "Veronica. Is this, ... New? A sudden occurrence, new capacities and motives... or are you just doing still what you always have?" "Yeah, it's new. I mean, I always cared lots about the town, but... Baker and Seventh, busting down walls, that much is just the last couple weeks. Without a Wing really in charge of the District, everybody and their cousin thinks they can muscle in. Somebody's gotta stand up. We've ALL gotta stand up. And we do, when they're- when I'm in Baker and Seventh." A pause. Veronica, having calmed down, looks a bit less like a dangerous killer and a bit more like a kid regretting a tantrum. Moses: "Mm. Lots of hands- not all yours? Interesting. Half a mind to suspect you took them off of others... ah, no, but that wouldn't fit the..." "Just one of 'em is mine," says Veronica, holding up her artificial left hand. "And one from everyone in town. Even the ones who- I've checked. Sadie had a birthmark on her knuckle and I-" She chokes. Composes herself. Continues. "You know they- the locks didn't work. The Wing gave us these little electronic doodads, safer than physical keys they said. People couldn't get back in their homes when all the power went out. You're from here." A pained, nearly-tearful look at Moses. "You know what being on the streets at night means. They're a lot safer now that Baker and Seventh is with us." "So, do what you gotta. Solve your mystery, prevent a disaster, whatever. But you can't take Baker and Seventh away from them. Not now, not ever."
Angela	''A harvest of righteousness is sown in peace, by those who make peace.'' "Yeah you say it, Daddy-O!" Kuwaba says, maybe understanding that at a 60 perccent level at best and definitely not knowing what kind of 'Father' Berislav is. He is so new he even missed the sermon! ''Don't cry, that's lame...'' In the interest... OF PEACE... Kuwaba fistbumps Gail. He's like, "Hahaha! Don't worry. I can be knocked down fifteen times but I'll get up at least fourteen of those times." ''I told you to announce your movements. Don't take my threats lightly.'' "So that's what a detective is..." Kuwaba says. He gives Gail a shoulder pat when he seems shaken. "Maybe she wasn't here." He suggests. "You okay there? I won't call you a wimp if you feel like crying!" ''Hup! Got you!'' "Oh hey! Maybe that's her!" Kuwaba suggests, but is offered a second fistbump. Actually, this is the best day ever. Kuwaba offers his fist and bonk goes the fist bump. He rubs at his knuckles a little afterwards. ''Doesn't touch me or my town.'' "Is this your town?" Sonya asks. He frowns, following around, biting the inside of his lip as Moses makes a move to show she's not to be ignored on something like this. Baker and Seventh... "That sounds like a street name. I guess==" His eyes widen faintly. "You're from District 12 too, then... I guess there WOULD be a lot of people prone to distorting back in that District, it's the one being hit hardest by the blackouts--and there's not even a governing body to take charge, really--even the LobCorp remnants aren't likely to be much help." ''People couldn't get back in their homes when all the power went out.'' Sonya's eyes widen. "...The Sweepers... You survived the Sweepers... while ''outside''?" "...Woah... badass..." Kuwaba says. "...And awful.. So Baker and Seventh--helped you out...?" He scratches his head. "Guess they really aren't all like the Pianist..."
Redshift Operators	"I don't wanna take your fuckin'... brickbot, exo-mortar, the... " The gunman gestures vaguely at the pod. "Whatever this thing is. What I want is, finding out whoever fucked up and put a lot of weird head-twisty shit out into the world and killed millions of people. And then kill them." In the view of Moses, a vast and strange icon rises in the sky just above Red Dwarf, seeming to eat segments of sky, devour the sun... Snakes converge on it, biting, wrestling, sinking fangs into screaming flesh. "If you care about those people then you better too. Someone cut a corner. Someone neglected. Someone put something real pressurized and condensed into something real cheap and shitty, and when the power went out, the power went out -- all the guardrails they sold for scrap dollars turned out to be needed. I don't know what you're doing busting up these guys on the raids, but it needs scaling up." He plants a grip on the strap of his grenade launcher's shoulder-sling and approaches. "I want you looking deep down in whatever boiler-room your heart went and turned into, and figure out that the heat starts going real hard when you realize, someone somewhere decided to boost a quarterly profit with those locks, and that's the same as whatever guy made the Pianist happen -- and they're just as cheap on keeping themselves safe too." He looks back to the smashed-open gate. "That means organization, backup, precision, planning. You gotta link up with like-minded." He cants his head briefly at Berislav. "He's got stuff setting up here. Worth knowing." The gunman says.
Tamiel Luxis	"You know they- the locks didn't work. The Wing gave us these little electronic doodads, safer than physical keys they said. People couldn't get back in their homes when all the power went out." "Distortions are a little like an answer to a prayer, aren't they...Something you need, or think you need, so, so bad. And...You become something that can make it real..." Her 'wings' shimmered, lowered, closer to her body. "If it saved their lives, I'm glad your town's was answered..." There's a soft chirp, and Tamiel's eyes drift once more to her phone. Anthem > Got something. Anthem > Forwarding the file. Anthem > Bigger than they look? Umbra > after today might be smaller Umbra > thx Tamiel sends her last message with a bowing angel emoji, before scrolling through the document. She frowns, then flips the phone shut. "...The Razorbacks must have seen the blackouts, and thought it would be a good chance...?" But with District 12 in such dire straights, maybe they thought they had the chance. Maybe. She wondered if there were other ways that she could check, could verify... Maybe Berislav could. Quietly, she sidled up by Berislav as he engaged the Razorback, speaking in a quiet murmur for him to hear, as he interrogated. "Gail's got most of it right; they're real small time. Really local. This would've been their biggest play ever."
Distortion Dets.	'That, is Baker and Seventh, or so we've taken to calling it.' "Mm. 'We'? You're a Distortion, like others I've encountered, but when you say 'we', you mean your... friends? Your home? Or do you mean a group of you are the same..?" 'What do you think I am, some sicko killing for fun?' With jaw tension threatening to crack teeth, "You don't want me to answer that. Step back, and step down. I won't ask again." Coldly, Moses puts her pipe up to her lips, with Veronica still in her face- Moses has to stare upwards to do so, the smoke that she exhales towards her is mundane, but it's still acrid and irritating. "Tch, I can't care about your town, your threats, or whatever this persona you're trying to put together is. Listen, then speak. All you had to say," A sharp inhale, "Was what you finally did- these miscreants threatened you and yours, and you protected them. Remember that the next time, won't you?" When she's actually given more space, Moses huffs- a tremble to her hands. She swallows, and grimaces- bitter feelings pour down the back of her throat from words she did and didn't bite back. 'Okay. Fine. I'll hear her out.' With tight-pulled lips, Moses smiles. "Mm. How generous." 'Without a Wing really in charge of the District, everybody and their cousin thinks they can muscle in.' "Mm. I can imagine. I've... only memories of that place being similarly tumultuous. I don't envy you. Nor what scars your attitude will earn you." Is that sympathy, painting the tone she uses? Probably not, but she's speaking softer than before. 'Solve your mystery' "You've let your words do most of that, thankfully. My apologies, I'm sure it disappoints you to hear, but I don't hope to fight you. I'm tired, and have a long drive on either side of this." Moses puts her pipe to her lips, quiet finally. >a vast and strange icon rises Moses turns, staring behind and above the operative. That little nervous tremor returns- "Soldier? Stay focused. I'd," A breath, tired, and another glance. Chewing on the tip of her pipe, she puts the growing image out of mind. "... I'd like to know the same." 'You're lucky to be alive, much less in good enough condition to run, and I think you're aware of that,' "Mmmph!" echoes the Razorback, still hugged tight- Ezra loosens up, and the Syndicate member turns their head- "-freak monster asshole fucker came in, trying to bring the roof down! Course I'm lucky to-" "Nuh-uh, time out till you're nicer!" "mphhghhh!!!" "Hey, wait- Sam? Sam, is that you? Hey, I know her, she's-" "Gail..? Wh-what are you doing, here..?" Fearful embarrassment shifts to ashamed embarrassment. "I, uh, look, I- I- nobody sent me, I just run with these guys for the cash, okay..? Couldn't cut it at the farms, hate it here, and... I didn't mean no.. c'mon, just- just let me go, I- I don't wanna die, I don't.." Awkwardly staring on, Gail takes a step back, as Ezra holds his captured acquaintance. "... I wanna go home. None of you all need me here, I don't- I don't want to see this. I- if she's gonna... give her a chance..?" Gail turns tail and leaves- Sam watches, turning her head as best she can, guilt singing her eyes. "Hey, Father? Whatcha want me to do with her..? Didn't know if she was a goody or a baddie, but..." Ezra turns her own head to the side, miming a neck-snap motion, "You want her not-dead? You sure? Okayy~!"
Father Berislav	Found out they were small-timers, tracked 'em out here, wham-bam thank-you-ma'am. "Ah," Berislav, his attention still fixed on the Razorback. "It wasn't that you were sent here, it's that this was your hideout. I see." Why do you care about what happens here, haven't you got your own homes to look after? Berislav looks over his shoulder from his interrogation. "We're Watchmen. We all have our own reasons for caring what happens beyond our little corners of the Multiverse, our own methods of showing it, and sometimes we disagree on what to do. But we do care." He returns his attention to Sam, now that he has a name to call her by. You want her not-dead? You sure? Okayy~! "That's up to her," Berislav says. His demeanor is entirely different than it was with the Photographer or even with Veronica. In this moment, he most resembles that figure of unfeeling steel Moses saw when they first met. He reaches forward, and a burning orange wound in space is torn, as if the air were painted over that orange expanse. From it, Berislav retrieves his bible, and as it withdraws, the wound closes behind it. He opens the book to a certain passage and reads aloud. "Thus says the Lord: Go down to the house of the king of Judah, and speak there this word, and say: Hear the word of the Lord, O king of Judah, sitting on the throne of David--you, and your servants, and your people who enter these gates. Thus says the Lord: Act with justice and righteousness and deliver from the hand of the oppressor anyone who has been robbed. And do no wrong or violence to the alien, the orphan or the widow, or shed innocent blood in this place. For if you will indeed obey this word, then through the gates of this house shall enter kings who sit on the throne of David, riding in chariots and on horses--they, their servants and their people. But," he pauses, looking Sam in the eye, "If you will not heed these words, I swear by myself, says the Lord, that this house shall become a desolation." The bible is shut one-handed, with a definitive thump. "In a few moments, Ezra is going to release you, Sam. If you want to live, then take off that jacket and kill the part of yourself that told you to put it on to begin with. In its place, tend to the part of you that recognized Gail, and listen to it when it tells you that you're doing wrong. If you can do so safely, tell the other Razorbacks what I told you. If not..." The priests jaw sets. "'He who has ears to hear, let him hear.'" He nods towards Ezra. "Thank you for indulging me, Ezra. You can release her now."
Hibiki Tachibana	"Come on now," says the mecha-piloting priest amusedly to Hibiki."Hey..." Hibiki murmurs back to Berislav, sounding only just miffed enough for it to probably be a bit. "Concrete and rebar is a new one..." They sent us a note with a bunch of threats, saying they'd come by for 'protection' money. "That explains it..." She says, with a glance at the rather trashed state of what used to be a hideout. Her grimace returns, before her eyes close. Something's been biting at her, maybe, and it becomes not too hard to piece together when she murmurs afterwards, "Still, isn't this much a little excessive, even for making a point...?" Yeah, the body they saw on the way in is probably what's on her mind. Came up outta the street intersection, just in time for the second night of the blackouts. Really thought that night was gonna be my last. But the town had my back, heh. This is about family, this about people who almost lost it all and are holding on with all we've got. Hearing about the blackouts is a bit of a sore spot for her, still, even after her chat with Berislav not so long ago. The gears are turning in her head about what 'Baker and Seventh' actually /is/ though, especially with Veronica's whole left hand deal. "Still, it's... your whole community, coming together as one, holding hands to defend your home... that's..." Wow, talk about some mixed feelings on her end. "...I can see why it means so much to you. And why you're so protective over it... I'm glad it came to you when it did." She likely has more to add on after that, though that's about when the long-haired Razorback makes their slapdash escape-- or tries to, before Ezra gets them. Hibiki isn't far behind Berislav at all, a little less calm about the whole ordeal, although her efforts are a little more focused on, well... "Hey, look...! /Calm down/. You're fine. Fighting's been over, point has been made. You're not gonna get hurt as long as you don't do anything crazy." She exhales roughly, looking back over her shoulder as Gail takes his leave, then looks back to her. "Get it together, alright? Berislav here is serious about not wanting the worst for you, either." As the priest recites his passage and lays down the terms, she gives him a look that's probably familiar to him - the sort of look that probably reminds both of them they stand on opposite ends of certain things - before sighing and furrowing her brow at Sam once more. "If it's about money and not belonging anywhere, we can help. But running with a Syndicate and threatening people isn't the way to go, even if it seemed like the only thing you could do before."
Veronica	"...The Sweepers... You survived the Sweepers... while ''outside''?" Veronica nods slowly, gravely. "Could've done better. People still died." RD: "That means organization, backup, precision, planning. You gotta link up with like-minded." "I think you're speaking my language, now," Veronica says as Red Dwarf expresses his grander objectives. "I do wanna hit back. I don't just want to chase after low-lives like the Razorbacks, even if I have to keep doing that, I don't want it to be all I do. Someone's gotta pay for what they did to us." She looks to Berislav. "What sorta 'stuff' are you putting together? How can I keep in touch?" Tamiel: "Distortions are a little like an answer to a prayer, aren't they...Something you need, or think you need, so, so bad. And...You become something that can make it real..." Veronica looks back and forth between Berislav and Tamiel. "You're religious too, then? Same faith as the Father here? I guess... if I ever prayed, it was that night. Standing on the bridge staring down a thousand sweepers. Maybe there is something listening... but why'd it wait til then, and not before?" Moses: "Mm. 'We'? You're a Distortion, like others I've encountered, but when you say 'we', you mean your... friends? Your home? Or do you mean a group of you are the same..?" "Yeah, my hometown. We've all got one of these, though," she says, holding up her hand again, "so maybe it's all of us? Does that happen with these, Distortion thingies?" Hibiki: "Still, it's... your whole community, coming together as one, holding hands to defend your home... that's... I can see why it means so much to you. And why you're so protective over it... I'm glad it came to you when it did." "Yeah." It's the most earnest tone Veronica's spoken with since the Elites arrived, a simple acknowledgement of being seen by a stranger. "Didn't catch your name, by the way."
Distortion Dets.	'Does that happen with these, Distortion thingies?' "Mm. Evidently, it does." . . . 'Hey, look...! /Calm down/. You're fine.' "Mmhpjh!" Sam mumbles, into Ezra's sleeve jacket. "Hey, hey, she's right! You gotta! Don't think it'd help if I squeezed till you didn't have a choice, but I can! I can do it~! So listen?" Ezra holds Sam tight, but directs her head to face Berislav as he reads off his scripture. Eyes wide and scared, Berislav can see that she's frantic. 'Thank you for indulging me, Ezra. You can release her now.' "Mm-hmm! Down you go~!" She lets go, and holds her own arms out wide- Sam tumbles out, falls to her knees, scrambles up, and whips the jacket off her shoulders, like it's on fire and burning her. She throws her hands up, not even trying to assess whether Berislav is holding a weapon or not, already indicating surrender. "Fuck it, fuck it, isn't worth dying over! You said a lot of things, but - sure! Yes! That's all, 'don't hurt people', be nice? Okay! I'll play nice, I'll play clean! I- look, I don't know who got out, who- who didn't, but.." Sam's choking up, in a frantic panic. It's clear that self preservation is her motive, but she seems to really want to preserve herself. "I'll... I'll talk to them, see if they get out of it all! I don't know what I'll do, but- but-- I'll figure it out?" 'If it's about money and not belonging anywhere, we can help.' "Everything is. It always is. 'Help'? With- with what? How? Look, just- all I want is not to die, please, thank you, that's all..." Arms still up, she keeps eyeing the exits. 'Calm' isn't in her playbook. "Father? Want me to keep her from running?" "I-eep.? I can stay put." "Hmm! Father, want me to scare her off?" Whatever Hibiki's offering, if she says it, Sam is nearly certain to latch on- similarly, if Berislav wants her gone, she's bolting. Ezra hums, not putting her own stake in it, if she has one.
Angela	''Gail turns tail and leaves.'' Kuwaba watches after him, still smiling but it doesn't really reaches his eyes. ''People still died.'' Sonya smiles sadly. "Even this power can only do so much." He says. "I hope you don't blame yourself for only saving who you could." The Saint cups his chin though at the idea that Distortions can come from not just one person but many. There's something... intriguing about that, really. The power of one can only do so much, but the power of many. A small town made this thing, what if an entire Nest distorted all at once? He puts the thought out of his head. That couldn't happen. Could it? Or maybe it practically did... The Distortion changed people somehow before it was killed, was that a similar--if more vicious--process? "Yeah." Kuwaba says. "Nobody usually survives The Sweeepers like that, 'cept maybe the Colors. I'm sorry you hadn't had this kind of power from the start--maybe then nobody would've died."
Father Berislav	"Thank you, Sam," says Berislav. Just like that, the warmth returns to his voice; as if a switch were flipped. Want me to keep her from running/scare her off? "Neither," says the priest gently. "She's shown that she isn't willing to die for sin. So, let that be the end of the discussion." "Go with God, Sam," he adds, with a nod towards the door. "If you need a place to stay or something to eat, find us in District 12's Backstreets." With a sigh, he tucks the bible under his arm and returns his attention to Veronica. "As for you, Veronica, I hope you'll take Sonya's words to heart. But I also hope you'll entertain mine--" Another orange tear. "Something beautiful is coming to the City. It will take time and hard work. Years of it. But one day, everyone--you and yours included--will benefit from it, and there won't be anyone left who wants to take it from you. If you want to be a part of that," he says, procuring a radio earpiece, "Or even if you'd just like help protecting your own until that day comes, then I welcome you to join us." The orange tear closes as he steps forward to offer it to her. "It was a pleasure to meet you. And," he says, turning towards Kuwaba, "To work with you for the first time, Kuwaba. I should get back to the Faded Print. Who's hungry?" He excitedly beams. "I can put some tea on and heat up some pot stickers!"
Hibiki Tachibana	Everything is. It always is. 'Help'? With- with what? How? Look, just- all I want is not to die, please, thank you, that's all... "You won't. I promise," she reassures Sam, normally not really having to be the calm one and feeling somewhat out of her element for it. By the time Berislav hands her a radio, she's mostly acclimated. Sort of. "I'll help get you sorted out, if you want to stop by District 12. If you actually do go back to the rest of the Razorbacks, I'll go with you, too." Beat. "You're really not gonna die, seriously." Well, she'd be pretty shaken up if an entire neighborhood in the form of a two-story high golem smashed their way into her place, too. Maybe she can't blame her for being so jumpy, especially given the unfortunate run-in with Gail. It's going to be a long few couple days. She exhales out with a final, "Ezra, don't bully her too much..." Didn't catch your name, by the way. Pausing, Hibiki half-turns back in Veronica's direction, giving her a nod. "...Hibiki. Hibiki Tachibana. Nice to meet you. Like Berislav said, I'm the one who's all about second chances around here. Even when people don't always deserve it." She closes her eyes. "And... I guess I know a thing or two about people joining hands. Even if I'm not always great at it myself." She gives Sam a few pats on the back that she hopes are reassuring. Maybe she should... ...actually, right, no, probably a bad idea to have the roof cave-in victim and the roof caver-inner have tea together so soon.