Scene #9361:

Owner	Pose
Calvin Nash	Calvin has sent out a message to those involved in the rescue of the Canaan ambassador Thoth. He's requested an informal debrief at the Marshal HQ in Ossabaw Island, following Thoth's successful return to the Canaan capital city of Enoch, Utah. The HQ is within a very old-looking Spanish colonial style mansion a ways down the road from 'downtown,' and maybe a 20 minute walk from the island's gatehouse. Shaded by the long, winding, moss-heavy boughs of ancient oaks, this red brick, clay-shingle roofed mansion is certainly the oldest building on the island. The look of it says it was old even before the war. It would have been opulent back then--now it's palatial, even with a few windows boarded up here and there. Statues of the island's native hogs recline on a decyaing brick pathway to the entrance, patched up with crushed oystershells and littered with leaves. Though ivy clings to the walls in places, the mansion is very much alive with activity. BGM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DsHiBLLqdlM The mansion's been converted into a municipal government building for the island--it isn't just Ossabaw's Demon Marshals that headquarter here, but the island's utility authority and its social welfare apparatus. The courtyard is accordingly abuzz with activity in the form of brisk comings and goings from each of the building's wings, and there's even a more recent building (one of the few not built on a mound) on the plot, which serves as a motor pool for the Marshals' tiny but growing fleet of working trucks. One of those trucks clings so stubbornly to life that it's earned a place of honor, appropriately and affectionately named 'Ugly' by a wooden sign hung from its grille, which itself is a section of wooden fence. Calvin flags you down on the front steps. "Thank y'all for comin' out today," he says, waving hand returning to his belt loops. His head tips backwards towards the front door. "Managed to get a little conference room for us, so y'all won't have to stand all huddled around my desk."
Odette Raskins	"Yo!" Futaba arrives with a raised hand in greeting and a quick flick of her tail behind her, having arrived with relatively little fanfare compared to her usual flashy landings from high places. Indeed, she's even looking a little more subdued than she usually does, wearing a poofy white sweater with the big hand-openings on the sides worn over her usual shorts and boots. "Wouldn't miss this, especially since we put all that work into getting ol' Thoth back from that mess. Speakin' of.." She takes a moment to glance around, then hops onto the first of the steps before slowly climbing them with just the front of her shoes on the edge to precariously balance her way up. "How's he doing after that kidnapping scare, anyway? Had a chance to recover after all that, or still getting back on his feet?" Another pause, and then she takes a whole can of Pr*ngles out of her sweater pocket. Pizza flavor! "Hungry?"
Lilian Rook	More Spanish colonial mansions. Lilian takes a good, long while to dissociate at the front door. The way she hesitates would make you think she expects the floor to give out under her the minute she crosses the threshold and drop her into a pit of spiders. "Good day to you as well, Marshal." Lilian says, stiffly. "I'd hope so. If what you've called us out for weren't even important enough for that, I'd walk back the other way." she says, descending into muttering something about meetings that could have been an email.
Dimokratia	Since there was time between the expedition and this meeting to allow Dimo and her new outposts in Atlanta to fortify themselves, cleaning and securing a business park and claiming the salvage such as it was from the Red Dogs' cars and helicopters. Under siege in a constant way from the local demons, the small warm light of stability secured and rebuilt itself, changing the rubble of the surrounding areas into resources once dragged back or encroached upon. The terrain crept with a spill of reworked landscape, and the buildings rose in a clean modernity with a near arcology level of plants woven in through the shapes of old Atlanta. As for Dimo herself, she had left when Thoth was secure and a garrison of drones could be left in Atlanta to ensure that their progress wasn't undone by the spillage of the expanse. There, she changed and retired to decompress and recompile her experiences, and the mild failure of her cladding. When she was recalled, she arrived in the local style, loosely wearing a button-down shirt buttoned only at the two bottom to reveal in a deep V the mechanicality of her chest and the points where she moves and shifts with walking. Additionally, she's fit into a pair of dark trousers, though her 'boots' are the dark carbon and matte metals of the Champion's outer frame construction and not some item of clothing. She might look like she fit in, were she not eight feet tall and trailing with two long jellyfish ribbon-wind tendrils that hung weightless and chrome in her wake. Perhaps a belt buckle would help. "I'm used to standing in such a huddle, Marshal, be well." Dimo chortles warmly, buzzing in a palpable synaptic crackle of amusement that can be felt in the ears and forebrain.
Calvin Nash	Had a chance to recover after all that, or still getting back on his feet? "Yep. He did," Calvin affirms, turning to head inside and beckoning for the rest of you to follow. "I'll take you up on them things once we're inside," he asides. "Ongyo-ki was pretty light handed with 'im, all things considered. The idea was to give 'im over to Shiva. Mend broken fences. If he was gonna get busted up, it woulda been Shiva doin' it." People come and go like a microcosm of the community's arteries; some are quite hurried with an urgent bounce in the step, while others make more steady, confident strides, but everyone here is moving with purpose regardless of pace, including Calvin. It's a far cry from the slower pace of the settlement, generally. I'm used to standing in such a huddle, Marshal, be well. "And me, too, but I figured for this we'd prolly wanna be as free of distractions as possible. Like the boots, by the way." He guides you through varnished hardwood hallways, past scurrying welfare agents, utility workers, Marshals and demon partners, past windows with motheaten stitched-up drapes and past photos of an old woman--the place's former owner, with long-dead governors and presidents and artists and musicians even a diploma certifying her as a witch's apprentice, dated 1972. Lilian and Futaba might even recognize some of the people in the pictures from history classes. A life-sized, decaying mannequin sits in a corner, watching the proceedings figuratively. She isn't really alive, but Calvin still points her out as 'LuluBelle.' One of the mansion's fifteen bedrooms, located on the upper floor after a flight of creaky stairs, has had its furnishings removed and replaced with sturdy, rugged chairs and a table of similar make, comfortable but obviously made after the war for the difference in age compared to many of the furnishings that survived it. A bowl of complimentary trail mix rests in the center of the rectangular table, illuminated by sunlight streaming in from a recently replaced window pane. There's a lovely view of the courtyard outside. Also on the table is a folder--likely what Calvin intends to use for his presentation. The floorboards creak, but hold steady. Lilian doesn't have to worry about collapsing floors. This place is old, yes, very much so--but it's carefully and dutifully maintained. "So," says Calvin, opening up the folder. "Futaba got a little bit ahead of me, askin' 'bout Thoth. He's fine. Even wants to keep his post. I think it all went 'bout as good as it coulda, what with someone sellin' us out." "Ongyo-ki kept to his word, too." Calvin looks up from the folder, frowns, and closes the door after the last of you have stepped in. "I got transcripts from the interrogation here I can pass out if any of y'all care to look over 'em. I ain't fused him yet, so I can bring 'im out to answer questions, too--but it'll be a pain in the ass on account of how different we are, so I'd prefer if y'all gave the transcripts a look over first." "Most important thing to know is we got a lead on who sold us out. Not much of one, but we got one."
Futaba Nuki	"You good, Miss Rook?" Futaba asks Lilian quietly, noticing that hesitation and looking over at the door like she's trying to figure out what's wrong with it. Seeing nothing of note there, she shrugs and greets Dimo with a broad wave, eyes opening a bit more at seeing the shirt and trousers combo. "Hey, Miss Dimo! Dang, maybe I should try a look like that again..." After offering Dimo and Lilian some of those potato-based snacks after Calvin doesn't take any yet, Futaba follows him on the way in. "Wouldn't have guessed that. Ongyo-ki felt pretty... Hmm. I dunno, something just felt off about that whole fight. Maybe that worked out, though, if he didn't rough Thoth up that bad." She comments, stepping sideways as needed when people hurry past the group. She's not going to be one to cause someone to trip and fall and spill all their papers on the ground, after all. "That photo's not too flattering..." "Wait, he was here? I used to... Huh. Cool." "Oh, wasn't that the one that did that song? The one with the byow wow nnnrhn tune?" Inside the conference room, Futaba slides on over to take a look at the folder in Calvin's hand. "Reviewin' those should help for sure... Hmm. Don't suppose Ongyo-ki's willing to tell us who it was in exchange for..." A beat, and then she peers at Calvin. "Do demons ever have a... Preference for who they're fusin' with?"
Dimokratia	Calvin admires Dimo fully enough to comment on the sophont's 'boots' and causes a knowing smile to bloom across carbon-dark lips as they pull across and up her seamed ceramic-pale face. Her pleasure, felt like phantom caress at cheek and honey-warm touch at ear, sizzles in the air between them. It is affirming, uplifting, to see and appreciate, a self-fulfilling urge if fed. "This level of chaos barely registers, Marshal, but I appreciate your efforts to our comfort and focus." She soothes, making it clear through buzz in tone her feeling that she would be quite and equally pleased looming over the whole department while showing off her 'boots' and more. "They are custom made. Would you like a pair, Marshal?" Dimo asks with sweet intent, as serious as a genie. Futaba gets similar, a sweet smile. "You know you may have whatever you think best. Hadn't I showed you, before? Remember, and you can wear my whole ensemble as your own, I'm sure." Escorted through the manor, she takes her place on a narrow seat with delicate grace, practically sitting in a half-kneel at the conference room but finding no problem with this. "I had not pulled much intelligence of worth from the Atlanta mission," She speaks of it like a religious work, for her it is. "But it showed that there was an overage of forces willing to take action. We are lucky yours was amenable to more harmonious alliegance. You intend to... fuse him?" Dimo seems surprised at this, bright blue optics shuttering and opening in an approximate blink.
Lilian Rook	'You good, Miss Rook?' "What? Yes. What are you talking about? Why are you talking to me?" says Lilian. If only it were actually just collapsing floorboards she were thinking of. She shudders as she passes through the lobby. The meeting room is . . . well, a little below the par she expected, somehow. The mannequin is just creepy, so she gives it a wide berth. The information about Toth is about what she'd expect. The fact that Ongyo-ki is still a matter of negotiation instead of on a casualty list irritates her, but she takes pains not to show it. The point at which she looks up from disinterestedly staring at the folder is when she hears 'fused him yet', at which she thinks it's adequate to just ask "Beg pardon?" with an eyebrow raised. She spends a second thinking of something less useless to say next. "Go on. I have to presume it's not someone properly within your ranks, or it should be fixed by now already."
Calvin Nash	Oh, wasn't that the one that did that song? The one with the byow wow nnnrhn tune? "Mhm. My mama's got a mug with him on it," Calvin says with a little pride. They are custom made. Would you like a pair, Marshal? "I might could do with a pair. Where'd you get 'em?" Do demons ever have a... Preference for who they're fusin' with? "Not particularly. They wanna get stronger 'cause of it, but the most important thing is trust." How Calvin imagines he'll get that out of a demon so different from himself (apart from their sense of responsibility towards their respective communities) is unstated. You intend to... fuse him? Beg pardon? "Part of the deal. What I get is a strong partner. Preferably one I can work with better than him. What he 'gets' is gettin' to stay alive," Calvin flatly asserts. "Or at least, not havin' to go back to the Expanse. After what he done, that's a damn good deal even if he ended up a Patriot." The look of disgust that blows across his brow like a sudden summer wind underscores, "Not that I'd ever fuse one of them shitheads." "Anyway, that's neither here nor there. He already did tell us who it was. Much as he could." Go on. I have to presume it's not someone properly within your ranks, or it should be fixed by now already. "They were careful," sighs Calvin, stepping back around the table to take a seat beside Futaba. He pulls out copies of the transcript, and passes them around the table; one for each person in attendance. "But we got a physical description to go off of. And it don't sound like one of ours." The transcripts depict the person who gave him the intelligence as tall, with a sonorous voice and a hunched back. They wore spacious robes as if to conceal much of their silhouette, and their stooped posture made it difficult for Ongyo-ki to see much of their face above the lower half. Even that was shaded by the hood. He recalls them being well-spoken and well-informed about the affairs between himself and the rest of the Great Oni, as well as his fall from Lucifer's good graces, and a few things that the Marshals weren't aware of at the time, regarding the state of Libertalia's internal politics. "We took some time to vet what all Ongyo-ki fed us--'bout the stuff behind the scenes in Libertalia. It checked out. Now," he says, holding a hand out for some pringles from Futaba, "That does mean we're either lookin' for somebody in Canaan, or that somebody in Libertalia compromised 'em," he nods at Lilian. "I'm thinkin' it's the first one. Not that either'd be great."
Lilian Rook	'Part of the deal.' 'What he 'gets' is gettin' to stay alive,' 'go back to the Expanse.' 'that's a damn good deal even if he ended up a Patriot.' "What the fffuck are you talking about?" says Lilian, dragging the F into a soft rolling wheeze out, ending her sentence with a whisper. "Are you just executing him with extra steps or what?" Lilian takes the description paper while still wearing an expression of checked-out bafflement, scanning it with a frown that doesn't look like she's impressed. "More importantly, this is either a demon, which could then frankly be just about anything, or someone taking considerable pains to hide their appearance, in which case this is useless." Lilian says, descending to muttering about 'sonorous voice' in a tone of disbelief, mixed in with 'emerald eyes'.
Dimokratia	Dimo peers over the materials, but only scans them quickly, far more intentfully capturing the attention of Calvin. Tracking his eyes in appraisal and the motion of Futaba and Lilian around the table, Dimo rises slightly from her crouch by the table to answer a question she had led to so intentionally. "As I said, Calvin, they are custom," Dimo begins, as her right trail flows fore and about her side, repositioning over her leg like a graceful and delicate curling peel, lifting wide trouser leg up, and up, such that the bareness of her contours, carbon-dark wound muscles and endoskeletal metal frame accented with the dark wrap and binding to appear shod and not at once, for the distinction was irrelevant. Baring there, and also, with a thumbing to the trousers to shift the side down, in 'private', to reveal the whole mounting and system at the top of hip and the deep gutters of inner thigh where parts moved in silent glide and faint-effortful warm whir. "As I said, Calvin, they are custom. But I am already sure of your fitting, if you are interested. They are the finest kind of boot I am aware of." She purrs harmonic, and rests back slightly after, though without fully de-escalating her bare showing off. Business, though, called and needed answer. "Do you have something more concrete? Could Ongyo-ki or the result of your efforts confirm the one they met before? And," Dimo leans forward, having remembered another interested mind in the mix. "That Richards, could they be ally in this? I remember their passion, and perhaps it could be of use."
Futaba Nuki	Dimo reminds Futaba that she doesn't actually need to buy shoes, and that has the ninja stroking her chin lightly in thought with a widening smile. "That, you did! Just a little bit of focus, and..." She trails off while closing her eyes, her legs rippling briefly as she goes through a transformation right on the spot. High boots with just a bit of heel form right over her existing ones as strands first, steadily wrapping together into something more recognizable as shoes. Trousers form over her legs before shortening a second later to shin-length so they'd still be technically recognizable as shorts, but not actually. The coloration is very much like the Champion's, but the style is something else entirely. "Hmm... I'll have to workshop this one some more." Lilian's reply has Futaba blinking slowly at first, visibly taken aback at her reaction. "Uh. You looked a little out of it. That's... Sorry?" She explains, then apologizeswithout sounding particularly sorry so much as she's just been utterly confused and doesn't quite know what else to say there. Calvin recognizes the inexplicable tune Futaba's referencing! That gets her mood right back up in time for the meeting in the conference room. "Wonder if dad's still got that record player stashed away somewhere..." Talk of fusing has Futaba stroking her chin again, and she successfully resists the urge to sit on the table. Instead, she remains in her seat besides Calvin like a civilized person so she can take a look at that transcript. "If you ever wrangled one of those Patriots into a contract, though... Could always fuse that one into someone less like that." She shivers briefly at realizing how easily that thought came to her. "Real careful, sounds like. Hard to really get a good read on someone in that getup without bein' there to sniff 'em out." Futaba comments while slipping that can of potato pizza-flavoring right over to Calvin and picking the cover off once he's got a hold of it. "Although if they're well spoken... I guess that might narrow stuff down a little bit? Dependin' on how folks here talk, but even that can be easy to hide when they're trying." "Where do we want to start diggin' in Canaan, then? Got any suspects, or are we brute forcing it door-to-door, person to person, seein' who sweats when we press 'em?"
Calvin Nash	What the fffuck are you talking about? "Happy to explain any part of the process," Calvin says, answering Lilian's exasperation with blunt certainty meant to reinforce the reasonability of his questionably reasonable plan and to attack the reasonability of her inherently reasonable confusion. Are you just executing him with extra steps or what? "Lemme put it to you this way," says Calvin, with a much more helpful and less combative tone than his previous remark. "We can't get Rhonda back. There ain't gonna be another. But because of what demons are, and how they're made, there might be another Ongyo-ki. He won't be exactly the same as this one. He won't perform the role in exactly the same way. He'll know what happened, in real broad strokes. But it won't be this one. It's like... a different actor playin' the same role. You with me so far?" "Some roles, like his, they're so big ticket you can only have a few, or even just one, out at the same time. But there might be a ball of emotional energy in the Expanse--the place demons come from--that wants to play that role bad enough that it gathers up the strength to make the flesh-and-blood parts a demon needs to exist here on Earth." "If I blow this one's brains out like I wanna," he says, "He goes back to the Expanse, as some of that ball of energy, and he's gotta build up his strength again to come back whole. For a role like the one he was playin', that could take years, bare minimum. A demon'll do anything to avoid that, especially a strong one." "If I fuse him instead, that means the energy that's 'him' and the energy that's another demon mingle together and make a new flesh-and-blood wrapper; a different actor playin' a different role, but with some of the original from each of the two demons that got fused. Memories. Associations. Feelings. The stuff that made this Ongyo-ki don't get to go back and try it again in ten, twenty years. And I understand how that'd sound like 'execution with extra steps,' but it ain't. I'm collectin' on a debt." Could Ongyo-ki or the result of your efforts confirm the one they met before? That Richards, could they be ally in this? "He's sure he could pick 'em out. Somethin' about the way they held themselves said 'big fish' to him." As for Richards: "Definitely." Dimo can tell Calvin isn't thrilled to work with her again, but it's at least unlikely that she's involved with any collaboration. "Matter of fact, Canaan's sendin' her to meet us in Mississippi in three days." Could always fuse that one into someone less like that. "Forget it." He wouldn't talk a Patriot into a contract--but this conversation is proof enough that he will fuse demons he doesn't get along with into ones he at least theoretically can. It takes at least two to fuse. Maybe if one side trusted him with their life, those complex calculations Pastor Fred writes out by hand could still average out in Calvin's favor. The armed guards that surround the facility where that's done suggest that even favorable odds are still odds, however. Where do we want to start diggin' in Canaan, then? "We reached out to Richards for some recommendations," sighs Calvin. "She gave us a few based on what she's found on her end. We'll make a sweep between 'em, east to west. And hopefully, we find somethin' before we hit Enoch."
Dimokratia	Dimo was a symbol to be seen and a beacon to be received from, and minded the looks and flutters of those around her as a shepherd tended to their flock. The Champion had seen Richards appreciating her directly, and had encouraged it further but hadn't quite gained an angle on the templar. Knowing they were coming again, as an ally, was all the better. "It is good we have both Richards and this... fusion of Ongyo-ki, then, despite the difficulty working with them. The accusation of their ex-crony would be proof enough for us, and suffice especially as supplementary evidence in a greater accusation." Dimo reasons, trails waving out in a pseudopodic shrug while one hand drew up to fingerstroke cheek and chin in a thoughtful composition. "I might also be able to pry loose the truth from our Caananite by applying harmonious pressure to their negativity, their lies and misrepresentations." She offers, turning out her thoughtful hand. "Once we sweep those areas. Lilian, did you wish to divine the most likely target, and allow us to more precisely choose our approach? A clean act would relieve our allies of their social parasite with a minimum of trauma."
Futaba Nuki	"If he can pick 'em out, then... Phew, that makes things way easier." Futaba lets out a chuckle, although she still sounds a little somber at being reminded what it had cost to get to this point. "We get him in front of Richards' recommends, and we'll find our culprit sooner rather than later. Just means we need to be careful not to let anything happen to Ongyo-ki between now and then." She pauses to consider Dimo's suggestion, then snaps her fingers. "Oh, that's a good idea. The fewer places and people we need to check around with Ongyo-ki or whoever he ends up as, the less we need to worry about our culprit getting tipped off that we're even lookin' for 'em." She pinches the bridge of her nose briefly, then shakes her head once the headache is gone. "Three days, eh...? Alright. Still plenty of time to be careful with what we say to who, but hopefully not enough time for them to skip town. Of course, if we start sweepin' and they start trying to bail... That could be a sign to us on who to keep tabs on, too."
Calvin Nash	"Way I see it," Calvin opines, "Havin' a diviner with us is gonna be a huge help." There's a nod towards Lilian. "Divination ain't an unknown here, but it..." He searches for words. "Takes some doin', to get it goin', if you know what I mean. Not somethin' the average person can do without a facility for it, a team and some prep work." Still plenty of time to be careful with what we say to who, but hopefully not enough time for them to skip town. "That's the plan. Another advantage we got is... I figure the person that did this ain't got any reason to figure Ongyo-ki's in one piece. See, I ain't got a demon to fuse 'im with just yet." He must want to keep Chernobog and Loa, then. "Maybe we can use that, once we're in Canaan. Let it slip he's still around and watch to see who moves." The only other thing of note in the transcript is part of Ongyo-ki's description of the informant. Though their face was shrouded and their figure mostly concealed, they did offer a bow, wherein their hands were briefly visible. The great oni noted that the figure's skin seemed very pale. I might also be able to pry loose the truth from our Caananite by applying harmonious pressure to their negativity, their lies and misrepresentations. "What I'm tryin' to figure is..." His brow knits in confusion and concern. "Why? I get why Ongyo-ki'd move on the information. I don't get why somebody'd give it to 'im. On the off chance it was somebody from Libertalia, why not do it themselves? They're all about strength and who's got it and... seizin' opportunity, over there. And if it's somebody from Canaan, why put somebody as respected as Thoth in that kinda danger just to make us look bad?"
Dimokratia	"If you would like my prediction, however compelling, before we seek more of the truth, I will give it. But know it first as prediction, and not omen of the sacred mathematics." Dimo sweeps out a gesture of her hand, and the matching trail follows in vague mirror. "That they wish to critically damage the relationship, and had already provided for either rescue or later reception by Ongyo-ki. And that would be the most-ideal case, where it is more likely that Thoth's death is exactly the tier of relatioship-ending threat that fumbling would have ended any neighborly airs between the Assembly and Canaan. It is the Marshal's quick actions, and our own, that made that operation remain merely a small and contained disaster. Dimo nods with hum and smile, turning to knuckle down on the conference table. "Under that theory, I would say that we - and Richards, aware of our plans, their 'worst case'."
Futaba Nuki	"Oh, yeah... If someone starts to bounce, then we don't even need to dig much. We can just tail 'em and get our interrogation on that way." Futaba nods slowly in approval of Calvin's idea, letting out a quietly impressed noise after a moment. "Well, unless we get a bunch of 'em moving at once. But... Just means we spread the net out a little, is all." Taking a look at the transcript again, Futaba narrows her eyes at the information about the hands. "Pale hands... Well. Unless the perp was handling lots of flour or.. Wearing gloves? That can narrow down the field some, too." Calvin's confusion about the motive has Futaba wrinkling her nose a bit, too, and she only seems more troubled the more questions Calvin asks. "Maybe they're not strong enough to pull of that kinda stunt, but wanted the... Uh. What's that word. Clout for making people think they did? Long as nobody figures out they didn't do it..." A pause, then a shrug. "Wouldn't sit right if I was one of 'em, but someone that'd do this kind of underhanded stuff in the first place probably wouldn't care too much about how they get their rep in the first place. Or-" She nods at Dimo whens he gives her prediction about the matter. "They care more about hurtin' your folks than they do about betrayin' their own ideals."
Calvin Nash	#-1 INVALID ANSI DEFINITION: #808080.But know it first as prediction and not omen of the sacred mathematics. "Aight, shoot," says Calvin, leaning forward in his seat. Under that theory, I would say that we - and Richards, aware of our plans, their 'worst case'. Frowning, arms crossed, he turns it over in his head. "Yep," he agrees. "That makes sense to me. I don't like it, but it makes sense. Mostly." "They're buildin' a utopia, right? A little walled garden for the chosen people of God," he continues, walking himself through a thought process. "And the way it's 'sposed to go is, it's a chain of command from God, to the angels, to the Church Elders to the Templars, on down to regular folks." Maybe... they're not strong enough... but wanted the... Uh. Clout for making people think they did? Calvin shakes his head. "Don't fit enough," he says. "Not for that reason. Not a true-blue Libertalian, anyway. They don't believe in power you can't back up. They feel like it's a sign of weakness to chase it, but, more importantly, they test each other. Lyin' 'bout what you done's a good way for somebody to believe you and knock the shit out of you." "Things ain't been good since the Choke, but Libertalia always got along with us better than Canaan did. If it was one of them, it wouldn't be to hurt us, or to make themselves look good--it'd be to prove we're weak. And that's just enough of a motive for me to say I only mostly think it was Canaan." "So lemme look at it, try and put the pieces together that way. See if they line up." He leans forward in his seat, interlacing his fingers and resting his forehead on his clasped hands. "If Canaan did wanna damage the relationship between us, that bad..." He sucks his teeth, pausing to keep turning it over. "Bad enough to end it..." He sits up straight, lowers his hands and turns to face Dimo properly. "I'mma put myself in their shoes a minute, here. I'm a Canaanite. End of the day, I take orders from God Almighty. What the hell does God need an excuse for? He wants to do somethin', he can just do it. He could up and cut us off tomorrow, close up the embassy, and them sumbitches would have all the shit put away before dark that same day."
Calvin Nash	Calvin shakes his head. "If it's somebody from Canaan, and you're right about why they done it, Dimo, then I figure this had to be somebody's sales pitch. To who, from who, that's the question." He sighs. A small wave of silence washes over him as he puts the question away for the moment. "Aight. Well. We're just about wrapped here. I got one more detail for you. For those of y'all that ain't familiar with the states, I got a couple of maps here." He passes them out. "That's where we'll be headed to meet Richards. It's still Assembly territory, and we can get there through the Terminal network--computers that sorta... shoot you through Assiah, into the Expanse and back out." The maps have shaded regions designating Assembly territory. it spreads west from south Georgia, through southern Alabama, Louisiana and Mississippi, northwest into Arkansas and ending in the eastern half of Oklahoma. "Once we meet her there, she'll update us on what she's found since the last time we spoke. Then it's gonna be a drive to Texas," he says. Both Canaan and Libertalia seem to be vying to expand into Texas. Their shaded regions on the map tell of a contest for the western and midwestern regions of the old US, and one can all but imagine the aggressive expansion and proselytizing that began once their borders began to touch and the diametrically-opposed nascent countries became aware of one another. "Canaan's got a Terminal network, too. That scare with Thoth spooked 'em enough to disconnect theirs from ours, so we're gonna have to take ours to Pawhuska and drive the rest of the way to Higgins, over in Texas." "Now, from Pawhuska, Oklahoma to Higgins, Texas, that's a long damn drive. Bout 2, 3 hundred miles, and a good chunk of that space between 'em ain't settled. So bring snacks, books, whatever, and keep your heads on a swivel." "I'll have more for y'all soon as I know more."
Futaba Nuki	"If it doesn't fit the Libertalian's MO, then... No wonder Canaan's up on the suspect list." Futaba claps her hands over her cheeks to get her focused again, nodding firmly once Calvin approaches the mystery from the Canaanites' perspective and Dimo's prediction. There's plenty more insight there that she didn't have earlier, although the question of the actor still seems to remain unanswered. "The who... We'll get that sorted out in a few days. We get the who, then we can nail down the why and see if someone put them up to all this. Then from there.. Really hopin' we can put this whole thing to bed." And then there's maps to peruse! Futaba munches on some of those Pr*ngles with one hand while the other splits into two more, allowing her to handle maps without getting anything greased up or crumb-laden. "Long road ahead, looks like. Always wanted to see some of these places if I ever came 'round here, but I never figured it'd be Shame there ain't an easier way there, but it'll give us plenty of time to catch up on sleep and readin'. I'll make sure to pack plenty of those and and restock on snacks before then. This new place opened up near me that's got plenty of weird American snacks and comics, so that might even give me some ideas on transformations..."