Roleplaying
2004 Archive
2005 Archive
Seminars
| When: | 16 March 2005 |
| Who: | Faith, Galen, Kacela, Willard |
| What: | A group meets to gather their resources, and confirm their identities with each other. Once that’s settled, the possibilities for carrying out an organized campaign begin to flourish. flourish. |
Dupont Chemical
The look of Dupont Chemical is exactly that of the Chemical Plant from the first Batman Movie. The piping stretching from building to building, weaving inside the buildings, and up to the massive smoke stacks; the chemical plant is a maze of piping, vents, and corridors.
Weaving her way through the protestors, Kacela steps through the picket lines, nose slightly wrinkled. The black woman keeps her shoulders squared, and in fact has a slim briefcase in hand. A deft flex of fingers produces a swipecard, and she keys in a four digit code, before popping a door in and settling herself in a meeting room. The view is in fact rather nice, looking over a well-groomed rock garden, the finely raked white pebbles stark against the sweeping abstract granite sculptures. Her eyes half-lid, as she waits, serenely.
Willard walks up towards the closed gates of the plant, stopping from time to time to check his back, and trying to dissappear amongst the protestors. Upon reaching the gate, he takes his card from an inner pocket on his suit, showing it to the guard, that allows him inside. He proceeds to the meeting place, finding Kacela already there.
Galen moves up to the crowd. He glares down one protester who gets too close to him then moves through with the patience of an icebreaker. He digs in his multitudinous pockets until he produces a magnetic I.D. card and swipes it experimentally through the lock. He is a bit suprised when it actually works, then punches out, laboriously, the code, 7734, he chuckles when he sees what it looks like on the little display screen, then pushes open the door and walks in. He follows Willard to the meeting spot, assuming that that guy might know where they're going, since other than 'DuPont' Galen has pretty much forgotten.
Faith hasn't gone to work in quite a while. Ever since the strike occurred, she's been using the time gained to work on some of her own projects. It's actually been blessed peaceful lately... And then somebody had to go and kill that cop. Not just any cop--a /demon/ cop. And because of that, Faith has new orders. Find the person that did it, and kill them. Crude, simple, /demonic/. Pheh. Well, Sekariel just shrugged, told her it would be an exercise in tolerating Hell's baser elements, and told her to head to DuPont.
From there, Faith made her way through the protestors, swipes her card in the magnetic lock--which she has as part of her Role, thank you--and walks inside. She looks like she at least tried to clean up, but her attitude... She /tries/ not to glare at the others as they enter. They're demons, yes. But she can tolerate them for now. Suffer their presence, and grow stronger for it.
Kacela stands from the well-padded seats as she hears the slide and click of the doors. She stands, and regards each entering party. "So, I take it that you enjoyed the sunset?" It's a subtle inquiry geared to hint towards the regeneration of Essence, as she makes a point to assure the diabolical identity of those arriving. "I suppose this is a good enough start," she says. "I cannot in any capacity present myself to you as a superior," she begins, "But I think all of you are aware of the murder of one of our own. What's been lacking as of late, though, is a certain... organization of ranks. I am not your superior," she repeats, a hint of cadence in her voice, as she turns to regard those present. "But perhaps you can tell me, who your Superiors ARE..."
Eyebrows arch towards the fluorescent lighting as she leans forward, splaying hands on the smoothness of the boardroom table. "Sit," she invites in afterthought.
Willard nods to Kacela, and takes a seat, leaning on the chair, while taking a deep breath. "Yes, you heard her, perhaps you could tell us who your superiors are" he says to the others, with a grin.
Galen grunts at the rather terse tone of that last instruction. He smirks slightly and sits on the farthest corner of the table. "It's not gonna do us no good to try to play all coy with each other, eh?"
Willard raises his eyebrows and nods to Galen.
Enjoyed the sunset. "Yes," she says, though it's a little forced. The insinuation that a /demon/ counts as 'one of our own' would raise hackles, but Faith's keeping herself in check admirably. She shakes her head, tucking a stray strand of blonde hair back behind her ear and giving Willard an odd look as he makes his remark. She makes her way to one of the chairs toward the head of the table, folds her hands in front of her, and starts her introduction, getting right to the point. "Of course not. And we're all on the same side, such as it is." That, in response to Willard and Galen. "I serve the Genius Archangel," Faith states. "Vapula," she adds, a moment later. And yes, she sounds suitably proud when she says such. That probably explains the attitude, if nothing else.
Galen looks at each of the other attendees in turn, then says simply, "War."
Willard turns his chair to Kacela, awaiting her to say first.
Kacela casts a quick glance towards Willard, looking a bit impatient. She gives a sharp, martial nod towards Galen. "Precisely. Hence the straightforward question." Already, she's taking mental notes about attitude, willingness to follow instructions, and keenness of perception about those gathered. A smile begins to spread slowly over her face. "Then we're all in good company. Technology and The War have a lot in common. I too serve The General," she says, locking her gaze with Galen. And thank you, Missus..." She trails off, before finishing, "For volunteering. It shows confidence." She expectantly looks towards Willard.
Galen eyes Willard also, now that a 'chain of command' has been established, of sorts. He stands up and moves nearer Kacela and takes the seat to her right.
Willard joins his hands and smiles."Two doubles, a good hand. I serve Vapula too. Now...will we get to names?"
Kacela then pauses, and squints towards Galen, as if something caught her attention, that she has previously missed. "War?" she drawls out, "Are you missing a word in front of that there?" She edges away from Galen until she receives a satisfactory answer. "Kacela Howard," she says reflexively to Willard. "For the role, of course."
Galen looks over at Kacela, then a glimmer of realization comes to his eyes. "Well THE War, naturally! You don't think I'd serve that twit of --Laurence-- do ya?
Faith allows herself a little half-smirk at Kacela's compliment. From her perspective, it's good to have a little acknowledgment here and there. Even if it's coming from demons. As of the moment, she's trying to balance things out--keeping her head down while showing that she's not a coward. The smirk turns into a smile as Willard mentions his superior. /Good/. "Faith Vandegraff," she states. "Faith will do." Well, at least she's in good company. It could've been Death, or something worse. "The murdered cop was one of yours, wasn't he?" she asks, looking sideways at Kacela and Galen.
Willard takes his ID Card of the factory and places in on the middle of the table, face up. "Willard Meyer", he says looking at all the present, and leaning back on his chair.
Kacela continues to speak in her clear alto voice, "Very well. And yes, he was. Which is why folks are getting pissed off. We had him placed in the police department for a reason. I could only /envy/ the possibilities that provided us. The news reports said he was found with a pentagram with his forehead, which means that either... someone was masquerading as a weekend Satanist with the flair for the over-dramatic, or...” Kacela narrows her eyes, "Someone was Symphonically aware enough to mark him as a demon. Considering that the disturbance was so LOUD because it was a soul killing, I'm going to wager that it was someone who knew what they were doing. So." She paces, looking for all the world like a shark circling in the waters, "It's either a hit from within, although I wouldn't begin to /dare/ suggest that our Vapulan allies would do something like this, it's just not in your natures, after all! Perhaps Kronos, or Asmodeus, or... Malphas, yes! The alternative? Upstairs," she sneers ominously.
Willard clears his throat and speaks, with his stare directed to the wall in front of him. "Well. I was at the crime scene. I arrived few minutes after the gunshot ended. There were some people around at that time too..."
Willard thinks for a moment and continues. "Lyman, an oriental man, a punk, that got really pissed off with the death of the other guy, a girl, named Genevieve...she seemed too calm...and a child, too.
"It's not," Faith says, calmly. "Dark Humor, perhaps. Malphas I could see. But not one of us." A murderous Technologist would probably do something more technical, less esoteric. "Or Upstairs. Are those weaklings /that/ hard-pressed? I confess I wasn't at the scene--I was doing my Archangel's bidding, at the time--so my theory lacks firsthand evidence." She's turning on the Authority Voice now, the one that gets hauled out when she's trying to reassure someone that no, this device isn't going to kill you. Cleanly. "Anything else of note? Known Celestials? Other sources of Disturbance?"
Galen does a lot of blinking, attempting to assimilate this flow of information. Then a glimmer of a though emerges. "Or another demon."
Kacela focuses her scrutiny upon Willard, seating herself on the edge of the table. A sharp nod is sent towards Faith, "Well-spoken, although it's NOT beyond them to do something so foul. The same thing happened with that corrupt Saint, Dominic himself appeared. I myself got to the scene after the fact. Do you think any of those present were capable or even aware of the conflict between Heaven and Hell?"
Willard turns his eyes to Faith as she questions for more information, and then adds. "That Genevieve, she mentioned a Tyrr while the punk was freaking out." He bites his lower lip and scratches his forehead, before saying. "That's all I remember."
Faith coughs. "I stay out of the way," she says. Her voice is calm and level, and the annoyance is gone from her face. "I don't recognize these names. Ignorance on my part; it's..." Pause. "Other guy? The Balseraph, or someone else?" A little paranoid, probably, but that's perfectly natural out of someone who's expected the worst out of the people she works with.
Willard turns his look to Faith, and pulls through his memory... He hrmmms "Alexus, Alexis...something like that, another punk, I think he runned that No Dinero with the first punk."
Kacela's eye glint predatorily as Willard mentions the name of Tyrr, "Tyrr Ceallaghan. The owner of the Irish restaurant and bar near Mister Lyman's downtown office. He should be watched, I suspect him to be a malakite of War... I cannot be absolutely certain, but the talk of axes, the dirty looks, and the mark of the choir upon his neck certainly don't weigh in his favor. Granted, soul death isn't something that malakim are well known for. Too subtle for them, and usually accomplished after several traded blows, not this one, single event. Would have been messier." She emits a faint sigh. "They're awful. Like roaches, with heavy, sharp objects. As I was telling Mister Lyman earlier today. He has access to resources that we all should find useful... aside from the obvious employment," she says, resting her weight on the table edge, taking note of the name offered by Willard. "Don't know anyone in the town on our side at least with that name..."
"Floor-dwellers," Faith mutters, in response to Kacela's mention of Malakim. If you ask her, the Blackwings aren't the only angels incapable of Falling... they're just the dumber, more violent ones. "I didn't like that place, anyway." She appears unfazed, though she's now playing with one of the cuffs of her shirt. "If we kill it enough, will its 'Archangel' decide that it's not worth the trouble to send it back?" There's a hypothesis. Faith sounds oddly thoughtful. Guess who's never encountered a Malakite in person before? "I don't recognize the name, either."
Kacela casts an incredulous look towards Faith, but doesn't pursue the matter, particularly in the light of what Willard said. "Is that so? My, quite the gifted one. Could probably be used as bait, if nothing else. Did she seem familiar with the area and those in the club? And by all means, don't let me prattle on endlessly. I would positively love to hear about the other things that we might be able to come up with, be it to get retribution on those who've positively screwed up our position now, or even ideas for... future maneuvers." Her gaze looks over the others, anticipation etched on her visage.
Galen looks up at the ceiling. "I think we should all exchange cell numbers, at least, so's we can all get in touch with each other." He grins at this stroke of genious.
Willard nods to Kacela. “She seemed to be a personal friend of that punk...think she called him MP...and, it looks like she liked me..." he chuckles a bit.
The difficult part about being a social recluse: having to match names and faces and behavior patterns when the Boss wants you to take care of something that doesn't involve tinkering with things. She eyes Galen for a moment, before nodding faintly. She didn't miss the reference to Genevieve's talents, and is mulling that over in her head. "Possibly," she says. "They are useful." It's not clear whether she's referring to the cellphones, or the bystanders, or both. "The order was simple. Find the perpetrator and kill him. Soul-killing might be advisable." Exactly how /she's/ going to contribute to this is still up in the air.
Kacela snaps a gaze towards Galen, and practically glows at him. "A wonderful idea. I take care of the big picture, and you see to the details." She snatches up one of the pads, and begins write out three copies of her personal number, starting with the digits 512. "Here, and... is that so?" She fixes a calculating glance upon Willard, "Must be the boyish charm. See if you can work that to your advantage." She mulls over information presented by Faith, her heels muffled on the carpet as she paces.
Galen gets a wide grin. Whether from the approval of Kacela or from his brilliant idea its not clear: "As a servant of Vapula, you should be able to come up with a interesting way to kill the perp s-l-o-w-l-y. Our instructions didn't say we had to do it fast, or painlessly."
Galen seems to be having a fit of activity in his pre-frontals. "How do we figure we're gonna find this guy. One thing's for sure, we shouldn't be wanderin' around alone, least no more than we gotta."
Willard start writing down his own cell number on pieces of paper, upon finishing, he sighs and says. "Good point. Everyone seems to be clueless. Do we have any other contact with the police?"
Faith picks up one of the little notepads, tears off a single sheet of paper, and then neatly tears that into three smaller strips. She removes a black pen from her shirt pocket, clicks the button several times, and scribbles down her cellphone number on the three sheets. They're pushed to the center of the table; the others can pick them up at their leisure. Faith rolls her eyes at Galen's suggestion. "I /can/," she states. "I know pain. But as a Servitor of the War, you should understand that sometimes restraing in killing is best." And now he's insisting she pick up an escort. Well. Demons /do/ make good shields. "Sound," she says. Faith knows the others might be thinking the same of her, but such is Hell. As for the rest? She's content to let the others talk, for now.
Kacela considers. "Well, there's a few options. Some subtle, some not. Those of you with appropriate skills or songe might want to return to the scene and see if the Symphony can provide answers... or we could find a few angels, and just torture the information out of them. If there isn't anything to be learned, no loss. As far as going around in groups, well... I think that we all shouldn't be seen together as a group, or not as the same pairs." She squares her shoulders slightly, as she picks up on a few nuances in Faith's speech. “And no other police contacts that I know of... yet.”
"That which does not kill us makes us stronger..." Kacela turns towards Faith, expression luminous as she appears to have come to a conclusion. She speaks, the words possibly striking a chord with the other female. "Pain is weakness leaving the body. It shows the true character of a being, and whether or not they are worthy of great things, would you not think?" She chortles softly, the sound soaked in silken menace.
Galen points at his newly-programmed cellphone. "Don't worry about calling me if you need a hand with something or someone, I'm always happy at an opportunity to mix it up with one of them halo-wearin butt-nuggets."
Galen scrawls his number on the pad, one time to a sheet, and hands them out. The numbers are mostly legible, with some concentration.
Well, it was going to come out eventually. Best they know what they're dealing with now; doing God's work is even more of a pain when you have to hide it from your own temporary-allies. Faith chuckles, meeting Kacela's gaze. There's menace there, too, a very calm, studious sort of malice. But it just barely shows. "It's a tool. Like many things. There are higher powers at work here, as always; they have their own tools." As the others start to pass out their phone numbers, Faith removes her cellphone and programs them in. "I trust there's no objections?"
The noise from the still angry group of protesters rises up past the sound-dampening walls and glass, causing Kacela to glance briefly over her shoulder. "Well, they're still rather uppity, even this time of night. Perhaps we should keep it short and sweet. Each of you should meet with Mister Nicholas, I will be sure to provide him with your names, so he knows to expect you." Her lips draw tight slightly. "And that's terribly kind of you, yes, Mister... Gregory." She says after squinting at the paper. Another cool, calculated glance is cast towards Faith, "Oh no, not at all."
Faith frowns as the protestors start to get vocal again; to think her own co-workers would be this /whiny/. You bet there's going to be testing going on when work resumes, and not just the kind that ensures the quality of chemicals. "I'm out," she says. "Don't get killed. I want to think better of my co-workers." With that, she pockets the pen and cellphone, stands up, and glances over her shoulder. Then she pushes in her chair and leaves the room, headed to the back parking lot. She's got a report to write as soon as she gets back home...
Galen climbs onto the massive Harley and prepares to ride off. The engine roars to life, then settles into a deep basso rumble.
Kacela mm-hmms to Faith, and then says, "Oh, I assure you, I'm quite capable of taking care of myself. Those who can weather such assault are truly..." She trails off, failing to find the proper adjective, "You understand," she says simply, before finally walks with the pair to the doors, steepling fingers as she regards Galen with mild curiosity. "A lovely machine."
Galen smiles at the praise, even if it is for his ride. "Yeah, the owner probably misses it dearly." He takes aim at the gate with the bike and dares a protester to get in the way.
Kacela breaks into an amused laugh, and then slips back inside to the relative security of the corridors and the prettiness of the rock garden.
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