Roleplaying
2004 Archive
2005 Archive
Seminars
| When: | 29 April 2005 |
| Who: | Al-Exar, Bronwen, Ellen, Faith, Kacela, Logan, Nicodemus, Pan, Uzal |
| What: | The War and Technology put their heads together for a little demonstration. Is it as successful as they intended it to be? |
Robert Mueller Airport
This airport isn't really that large. It's not made for your massive commercial jetliners and their accompanying traffic. It is instead designed for the local businessman who has their own private jet or the local enthusiast who has his own Cessna or similiar aircraft.
There are several landing strips and a dozen different hangars around the central Air Control Tower. The Air Control Tower is always manned with three people who are just as serious fliers as any other person who uses the airfield.
Chewing on her lower lip, Kacela takes the parking ticket at the airport parking deck, knuckles pale as she grips the steering wheel. A pointed glare is send to the man in the passenger seat. "But no, seriously? Is there a signed contract or anything that you can show when we get back to the offices?" She wheels the car around, and finally chooses a location in the deck far away from most other cars, but not on the upper deck where the sunlight could damage any imagined sensitive parts of the vehicle. "Get out. I've got to meet him, but I'm tellin' you, we're going to busy, it really may NOT be a good time."
Al-Exar sighs, "Yes but Jonathon Moriarty is dead sugah. Y'see I stepped on board by hijacking one of your beau's boys back in the fall y'see. We played a little lead roulette with some college kids in alibrary and went to jail. So I had a naked cop dance us outside, and have been running errands for a while. But you know, consumable resources and all." he chuckles and plucks a pack of John Player's Specials out of his pocket, the black pack just seems appropriate in the dusky and sharply featured man, as he ignites his zippo, the underlit shadows cast his high cheekbones in a distinctly mephistopholean glow. He exhales a thick plume of smoke, "I just got back from a research trip. Did you know that not only does the average homeless man fall at standard acceleration, but that he'll often explode entrails all over the vehicle he hits at the intersection below the 30th floor office tower he leapt from?"
A blue '97 Taurus pulls into the garage shortly after Kacela's car parks. Its driver--Faith Vandegraff--takes a ticket, and then drives through the garage, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. She's got a CD in the player; it's some Industrial band. Apparently, she's trying to get herself in the right state of mind for things that should hopefully be happening soon. She parks in another not-too-crowded spot, gets out, and retrieves a duffel bag from the passenger's seat. Faith slings it over her shoulder, closes the door, and locks the car. She looks determined as she heads for the nearest stairwell.
Al-Exar snaps his fingers, and opens his door and hops out, "They told me scientific experiments mean nothing without controls, so apparently I'm going to have to replicate the experiment a couple more times to get the results published."
A third car pulls into the garage's entrance. The driver of the black Civic is either talking to themselves, into a cell phone's microphone, or singing along to some bizarre song. Snatching her own parking ticket from the dispenser, Bronwen gives the engine a short rev before gliding along on the search for another open spot.
Kacela doesn't seem to dispute any of the adventures that the man expounds upon as her brisk walk carries them to the designated meeting spot, instead deigning to niggle over one tiny word. "Beau?" A sharp, snorted laugh escapes her, but faint gloating causes the corners of her lips to creep upwards, before tackling another subject. "Experimental replication is useful, yes. In fact, we have a few of the Genius's proteges that might be able to help you out in that regard..." Ever cautious, she looks over one shoulder to peer at those drawing near, recognizing Faith's figure. "One of which draws near." As they approach the entry, she pulls out the printout of an e-ticket, apparently chosen to spare no expense to legitimize her presence here. Either that, or she didn't want to take any chances with the jilted looks that airport security were giving the message upon the babydoll T-shirt she had changed into.
Kacela doesn't seem to dispute any of the adventures that the man expounds upon as her brisk walk carries them to the designated meeting spot, instead deigning to niggle over one tiny word. "Beau?" A sharp, snorted laugh escapes her, but faint gloating causes the corners of her lips to creep upwards, before tackling another subject. "Experimental replication is useful, yes. In fact, we have a few of the Genius's proteges that might be able to help you out in that regard..." Ever cautious, she looks over one shoulder to peer at those drawing near, recognizing Faith's figure. "One of which draws near." As they approach the entry, she pulls out the printout of an e-ticket, apparently chosen to spare no expense to legitimize her presence here. Either that, or she didn't want to take any chances with the jilted looks that airport security were giving the message upon the babydoll T-shirt she had changed into. (repose)
Seated in the main terminal, Nicholas Lyman is a rare sight. One leg kicked up on to the other, with his arms wrapped around the neighbouring seats, he is entirely too comfortable with life at the airport. He is a pillar among those rushing toward line ups, wheeling luggage, as well as those pacing nervously as them await loved ones. Even more strange, Lyman is almost unrecognizable, having dressed down for whatever flight he is waiting on. He wears a dark leather jacket casual, with a simple black sweater underneath. His pants, basic black slacks. Then, at his side, a large black case. Certainly, Lyman could take more on a trip abroad.
Faith, for the record, is also carrying one of those e-ticket printouts. And she's moving like she's in a bit of a hurry, like a passenger who's a little late for her flight. She passes Kacela as she enters the terminal, looking at her as she heads through. She doesn't recognize the guy with her, though. This could be problematic. But Faith isn't worried. Just a little wary, that's all. Not worried. She stops, takes a look around the terminal, and then starts trying to follow Kacela and the other guy, while looking like she's not following them. She still thinks she needs to keep her head down.
The black Civic nearly has its brakes slammed on. Fortunately the driver managed to catch her reaction in time and instead braked smoothly, flicking on the turn signal to pull neatly into a spot. Bronwen climbs out of the car and narrows her eyes at Kacela's back and the direction she's taking. "Well, something isn't right here," she muses to herself and softly slams the door shut, setting the car's alarm.
Al-Exar grins and giggles slightly as Faith is referrenced, he actually crouches about half an inch and darts ahead of Kacela by about 3 steps, "Dibbity doo, sibbi waaa!" He snaps his fingers rhythmically, and twirls his cigarette between the fingers on his other hand like David Letterman with a pencil, as he gets the attention of a few passerbys, he pops the cigarette into his mouth! You can tell by the way his face is distorted he's somhow keeping it in there lit, and he does a springing handstand and he begins singing earnestly, "Is what I am! Is what I am! I am a DENIM DEMON!" He Lands neatly on his feet, and with a flick of his tongue his cigarette darts back out, perfectly smokeable and still lit between his lips, and he takes a puff, he adopts a kung fu pose and stares down an elderly woman on her way to her car. "Hey giiiiirl, how's tricks? You need a ride shug? I'll take you to the holy land and back and there and back again!"
Pan is in a bookstore near the main terminal, trying to decide which candy she should get. She glances at the nearby clock every so often. She doesn't know when things are going to happen, but she's been here all morning waiting for a chance to intercede..Not that she's sure she -can- intercede. She doesn't know anything about biowhatsit. She eventually buys a milky way and steps back out of the bookstore chomping on it nervously.
From his jacket pocket, Lyman removes a short wire with a smooth, skin coloured appendage. Casually, he leans to one side in his seat and inserts the rounded end into his ear, running the wire down his jackets collar. How are we doing people? he whispers into the wire end, Victor, can you hear me? These questions are asked only when Lymans gaze seems to idly pass over the crowded terminal. Nothing doing here. Swear.
Stepping into the terminal, Ellen walks about, looking about casually -- although a careful look would reveal that she's even more alert and wary than usual, if that's possible. Seeing Pan, she waves her hand. "Hey Pan," she smiles warmly. "What's up?"
Uzal is dressed like an airline worker, and lounges among the other staff, chatting in a friendly tone. He's here to earn a few extra 'scum points' by helping out these poor, stressed, overworked flight personnel. Right now, he's speaking sympathetically to a fellow whose uniform indicates him as an engineering or tech worker.
Pan glances towards Ellen. Her eyes widen, "E..e....E...E....e..." She stammers.
Since his chief concern became investigating demonic activity in Austin, Logan has not been seen in the usual suit and tie. Case in point, he jogs out of a cab and into the airport carrying a long brown case, dressed in standard jeans, runners, a grey hoody, and a jean jacket. These clothes are for getting messy, something Logan would...rather not do...in his line of work.
The summons from Lyman doesn't go unanswered for long. A pleasant enough older man hums cheerily to himself, wearing work coveralls that look remarkably similar in make to those that Uzal himself is employing. A bemused expression rests upon the man's features, with wiry hair splayed about as he makes a few adjustments. The older man adjusts his bifocals, and like any good engineer, pauses for a moment to enjoy the sight before him. Victor reaches his hands down into the duffle back that he himself has carried in. Currently located in the atrium, he's parked himself at the elbow of the entryway into the men's restroom, right where the concourse meets with the terminals. It is here at the yellow line by the escalators that people pour from the bottleneck, relieved to be out of the planes and with their family or business partners.
"Yes, yes, calmness, patience... and we must hide as well, do not forget that," Victor chides in a wholly unoffensive, almost paternal manner. "The hiding in plain view takes some time..." At which point the voice trails off into a rumbly mumble, as the song of concealment is performed. A Disturbance of 4 rings out, and Victor stands and walks away from what looks like a small trashcan.
"Yes, I know, Pan," Ellen lowers her voice as she steps closer to the girl. "It's supposed to be T-day, right? Has anything happened yet?" She looks around, shiftily, especially training her gaze on the suit-and-tie set. And so she happens to notice Nicodemus Lyman. "Looks like the guest of honor is here," she whispers ironically to Pan.
Roll by Pan: (6) (3) (2)
Roll by Ellen: (3) (3) (5)
Roll by Logan: (2) (3) (2)
Roll by Kacela: (5) (6) (6)
Roll by Faith: (3) (2) (3)
Roll by Al-Exar: (2) (1) (3)
Roll by Uzal: (4) (6) (3)
Roll by Nicodemus: (5) (3) (5)
Roll by Bronwen: (3) (6) (1)
Kacela sags slightly at the antics of the man alongside her. "I don't know you," she finally decrees to Al-Exar, and bustles toward the luggage check in area, her stride long and easy when not confined by the discomfort of heels. She's on the alert for anyone that she could recognize, be it crazy scientists or well-to-do business owners. The bustle of the crowds around her appears to offend her typically stand-offish demeanor, and the number of people present appears to be getting to her some. With a determined duck of her head, she plows ahead, trying to fend off the large amounts of sensory input being tossed at her. With the cheery spaniard in tow, she finally swims into eye contact with Nicodemus.
Pan rubs at her eyes, "I don't know. She glances to Nico, "But they're here...I don't really know what to do though. I'm just hoping I'll see something and poof, be able to do something. I wish Sandra was here. She'd know what to do." Pan wipes a bit at her eyes nervously.
...What the hell. Faith stops in her tracks, taking a moment to stare at the guy doing gymnastics and singing in the middle of the terminal. Her gaze wanders over to Kacela--there's a distinct 'who the hell are you hanging out with?' look on her face--and then she blinks, looking at something off in the distance. Faith heads toward it, incidentally following Kacela. She stops when the other woman does, and looks around, trying to do a 'confused tourist' impression. Well, she's there, and easily recognizable. Now, let's just see if anybody notices.
Hearing that famliar voice on the other end, Lyman settles into the airport seating, a hand rising to his lips contemplatively. That hand does not get there a moment too soon, as it arrives just in time to cover the dawn of a most devious smile, a smile that confidently seeks out each unsuspecting face that passes. It also covers his lips as he talks back, over the symphonic disturbance, "This is only the beginning, Victor. In time, the city will be ours..." A lighter comment follows, "My men are in place. They will be disturbing their cannisters once the...distraction...is provided. Im afraid they arent as gifted with celestial songs..." With those words, Lymans gaze seems to pick out a few faces among the crowd, familiar in that they are the same, grim and wide set features typical of Lymans body guards. No, these men havent been in his service for some time...but it seems theyve been recalled for this job.
Bronwen picks up her pace to keep Kacela and her companion within sight. She doesn't get bothered all that much by the other airport-goers if her expression is a judge of anything. The ripple of disturbance has her step slowing momentarily and a darker frown passing over her features. "What games are being played today?" she murmurs to herself, giving the area a quick visual glance.
Uzal gives the young engineer beside him a compassionate, commiserating pat on the back. Just then, he hears the Disturbance. His violet eyes sweep the vicinity, narrowed, and he lets out a low hiss as he catches sight of Nicodemus. He turns again to murmur a few words to his 'friend' and 'co-worker'.
Al-Exar chuckles, ignoring Kacela's chiding, and slapping the old ladie's rump. The woman gasps, and hurriedly makes her escap to her old Grand MArquis. Suharto Ramirez, the renowned local Jazz Bassist, hops onto one of those moving walkways they have in airports, leaps onto the handrail, which also moves like with escalators, and sits on that, as he similarly picked out Nicodemus amidst all that loud and cacaophonous songplay. He whistles a little dixie just to keep it all real.
Ellen shivers slightly at the sound of Disturbance. "Sounds like the party's getting started," she murmurs to Pan. "There's Lyman's gun moll," she gestures quietly in Kacela's direction. "What do you think we should do -- split up to get a better view of all this, and try to spot someone actually doing something /illegal/ so we can blow the whistle?" She blinks as she watches Al-Exar's antics.
Catching pairs of searching eyes from his peripheral, Lyman looks to Kacela first. Now, unable to contain his ethusiasm, the hand withdraws, revealing the smile that should make angelic stomachs turn. He mouths the words, You are late. Still, he clear does not seem to mind. He simply encourages the woman with a low nod of his head, the gesture ending with a forehead point to Faith. The body language should be clear...take her along.
From the entrance, Logan jogs deeper into the airport terminal, the long, but narrow leather case swinging from its handle. Perhaps it is a musical instrument of some sort? But, as the disturbance ripples out, he cuts to a deat stop, his bold brown eyes searching wildly around.
"You...Nico. I'll look at the other two peeps," which ones she leaves vague, "B'careful okay?" She turns and heads towards Kacela and Al-Exar, though she doesn't say 'hallo' or anything, she figures she shouldn't be drawing attention to herself with all these EVIL people about.
Kacela doesn't appear to be having the best of nights, and with eyes widening, she growls out to Al-Exar, "I swear, if you ever do anything like that to me, I'll snatch your sac off like a paper towel..." And then, the motions from Lyman. She at first appears grateful to see him, but her demeanor snaps back into glacial chill as she catches the mouthed words. With an equally silent shake of her head in disbelief, she pulls back lips over teeth, and jerks a thumb in the clown's direction, as if blaming it all upon him. However, the communication ends there. Not even going within ten yards of Lyman, she alters direction sharply, and picks up the pace to intercept Faith, extending one arm to loop it around the other woman's elbow. "Hello there. Did you ever get a chance to meet Victor?" she coos out, even as she begins to strut toward the bathroom.
There's Lyman. Faith looks at the industrialist for a moment, and everything starts to fall into place. She's got a mission now, and she's going to see it through. As Kacela approaches, she just kind of stands there, woodenly, as if imagining the Good Things that are going to happen if she pulls this one off. It's almost enough to make up for the spate of bad luck she's been having lately. As Kacela loops her arm around the crook of her elbow, Faith blinks, startled out of whatever she was daydreaming about. "Just for five minutes, back at the lab," she says. She follows the other woman (not having much choice in the matter), having shaken out of whatever was going on earlier.
Following Kacelas gaze to Al-Exar, Lymans face abruptly sours in the same manner as his associates. All anticipation, all enthusiasm, washes away, as if his face was just hit by a snow ball. Lyman shakes his head, some what forgivingly, in Kacelas direction, whether she is looking or not. No, he cannot be certain this is Al-Exar in a new host, but the man certainly seems possessed. With a heavy sigh, Lyman grabs his bag and starts up the elscalator after him.
"Be careful, too," Ellen nods to Pan. She mutters, "There goes my dream date," as she starts to edge in more closely toward Nicodemus, still blending in the crowd, trying to catch his words without being noticed. Her eyebrow arches a bit as she sees him heading after the acrobatic man. She stays back to watch from below, pretending to be curiously amused at the guy's behavior like the rest of the crowd.
Al-Exar is cheerfully oblivious of everyone who is apparently inconvenienced by his presence. Of course, he followed Kacela obediently and without any dillydallying, she'd have been just as late if he hadn't come. He continues to smoke inside the airport, sitting on the railing of the walkway and still no security personnel have come to stop him yet, got to love airports.
Victor seems pleased with the transformation, and then glances around himself, almost sleepily, to verify that no one was bearing down upon him. But then again, why should they? He was just dropping a candy wrapper into a trashcan, yes, that was it. A faint 'oooh' escapes him as he sees the pair of women approaching. "This... this one is working on the project, yes...." He then beckons Faith along, as if he had the secret of the universe to reveal to her, likely leaving Kacela behind. "We must be subtle about this. I have been keeping them hidden, yes, but not everyone can, no. Which is why there should be a distraction soon... and then all will be well." He smiles thinly to her as he leads her to the oversized baggage claim, pulling out a sheet with several sets of numbers written upon them. He makes a wonderful show of playing hte doddering tourist, and winnin several pieces of luggage in the process, which he rolls back toward Faith.
Kacela's already in the process of leading Faith to Victor, the advisement of her reprieve going unnoticed. As the man twitters toward Faith, she withdraws a few paces, crossing her arms over her chest as she scowls across the atrium and its dizzying array of visitors. "Distraction indeed," she grumps out, before raising a hand to smooth back her braids. She's taken the point position, perhaps intent upon keeping anyone from intercepting the two scientists at play.
Looking in each direction after the source of the disturbance, Logan catches the tail end of the subtle demonic convention. His eyes narrow on the unfamiliar face, Faiths, but rests on Kacela as she starts away. Pacing closely behind her, Logan tightens his grip on his case and waits for the appropriate time.
Bronwen watches Kacela move off with the unknown woman and internally debates. "The unknown fool or the known follower. Such a decision... and yet..."
The earlier glances from Lyman have mobolized his goons. Pushing through the crowd, they appear to be acting independantly. However, the majority flock to Faith and Victor, carefully examining any who have more then a moments interest in the pair. Still, there are a few that cut away from the group, wheeling along luggage the same colour as Victors.
So this is Victor. Faith observes the older man carefully, listening to every word he says, and nodding when appropriate. A little eccentric, yes, but dealing with this sort of behavior is second nature to her by now. "Distraction, hmm?" Her voice is soft and calm, and will probably fade into the background noise of the terminal. She follows her fellow scientist to the baggage claim, and as Victor starts passing the luggage to her, she plays the role of bystander helping doddering old tourist with his things. Each piece of luggage is carefully examined, of course. Then Lyman's people start moving in. Faith peers up from a suitcase just in time to see them take up positions, and looks confused for just a second. She's not, really. She's just trying to blend in. She learned early on to keep her head down. "Is that it?" she asks Victor, after collecting a number of suitcases and other articles of luggage.
If any airport officials want to deal with Al-Exar, they cant. It seems Lyman has claimed first dibs. Stomping up the escalator, he quickly bears down on the man beside the railing. "You," he rasps, a fiery whisper to contrast his rather icy expression, "Where have you been? Do you know what is about to happen? You could have drawn attention here..." It seems, Lyman cannot stay mad for long, an iron lip rising up into a subtle grin, "I got your message, though. Amusing."
It is Logans intrest in Kacela that has brought him this far, the knowledge that she is indeed guilty of a crime and yet unpunished. But, as he catches up steps, he grows more interested in the other members of the strange trio. With a curious hum, Logan centres his gaze on the older man, his pupils flicking away to a plain white as he peers into the man. Unfortunately, one of Lymans men finds this rather suspicious and quickly begins to move in...
Roll by Logan: (3) (3) (5)
"We must be careful," Victor reiterates, this time addressing both Faith and the gathered men. "There will be four here, two are already in place. By the men's restroom, and the and at the corner of the... Country Buffet," he rolls the words around in his mouth briefly. "The others need to be good places, too. They are in separate bags, just in case. No need for early activation, no? You know how to hold your breath and run, correct? No, don't do that," he rambles on, before patting her, "There is a delay. We can remove ourselves to safety, yes? Always thinking ahead," he taps his temple, "Just as I know you to, too." He begins to decide on where the next two should go, looking over the area. "Placement is important. Busy to get lots of people, but not busy enough to be seen by security. Must conceal actions, and then the item." Victor fidgets some, and then tenses up, before looking around frantically for the source of the mental intrusion. However, the deed is done, and a veritable mental image of the current locations and surroundings of the canisters disguised as small trashcans swims into view for the Elohim.
Victor gapes his mouth in surprise and shock, turning a glazed expression in the general direction of Logan. Flustered, the man shoves the last of the bags into Faith's hands without further instruction, and begins to extricate himself from the airport, hands trembling.
Logans first instinct is to shove past the restraint of the larger man. But, knowing that the crime is still in progress, he steps back, raising his hands passively at the gruff command, Get Lost. So, Logan withdraws, his mind quickly calculating how he might thwart the demonic plot. Clear out the building? No. They dont have time for that. Sprinting back the way he came, he finds himself bumping into various travellers, more concerned with locating waste baskets than spotting the ins and outs between the human traffic.
Kacela gives the emergence of Lyman's men an almost disappointed look, rumbling something that sounds akin to 'redundant' to herself. She happily seats herself, and pulls out the driver's license that would have been requested had she actually chosen to go upon the flight that's currently pulling away from the terminal. "Mmm. May 3rd, huh? That's not too far away," she says of the date generated randomly during the production of her vessel's birthdate. And then, Victor makes a run for it. "What in the hell?" She uncrosses her legs, and squares her shoulders again, pocketing the plastic card and sending a disapproving frown to Victor's retreat. Unusual, the man was doing the equivalent of cutting off his own hand by abandoning his work. The only other body moving just as quickly, though, was that of Logan's. Kacela's eyes narrow dangerously as she watches the lawyer in street clothes in action. She moves to intercept -- perhaps it may be wise for someone to likewise intercept her.
Everything seems to be in place. Good. Faith keeps listening to Victor, occasionally nodding or giving an affirmative "Mm-hm." She's actually keeping up with what he's saying, and knows what could possibly go wrong. Still, this doesn't keep her from looking a little unnerved when Victor stops talking, looks up, and then stares at some guy off in the distance. Faith follows his gaze, catching sight of Logan. Then, as the other scientist hands her the bags, she just... stands there for a moment.
Being the quick-witted individual Faith is, she realizes a few key thing in swift succession. 1. Somebody just spooked the other guy. 2. He just handed her something that could be incriminating. 3. There could very well be people watching her. With this in mind, the chemist quickly gathers up the requisite things, and tries to make a break for it, heading deeper into the airport at a swift walking pace. She's looking for good places to set these things up. Planters? Trash cans? Any food-court-type places in the area? Faith is trying not to look too paranoid, but realizes she's out in the open. She /really/ doesn't like that.
Bronwen's attention is drawn towards the many bodies suddenly really quickly going about their business. Spotting Logan approaching her location, she turns towards him to intercept his path and try to get some information out of him. "Excuse me," the woman says.
Ellen's eyes move to the group around Kacela, noticing the transfer of bags. Her eyes narrow, and she starts toward Faith, quietly, weaving through the crowd. Whatever's in that bag is likely /no/ good.
Pan opens her mouth. Pan shuts her mouth. Pan smiles. What's in Faith's hands might be the 'last bag' but she instead heads towards the Men's Bathroom. She has always wondered what it looked like in there, and this is the perfect opportunity to find out! She sees Ellen heading for Faith. The smart thing to do would be for -her- to go to Faith, but admittedly Pan's curiousity has overwhelmed some of her good sense as she slides into the bathroom that she's not supposed to go into! Maybe people will think she's too manly to be female. Hey - the men's bathroom is so much -cleaner-.
Logan skids to a halt to avoiding barrelling into the woman. Still, after stopping, he pivots, trying to edge away. All the while, his brown eyes are evaluating Brownen carefully...she too may be a demon. "I have no time to talk, miss," he explains, his bland tone hardly conveying the rush that he is in. After that, he shakes his head, twitching somewhat, as he tries to full absorb the images from Victors mind.
For Pan, inspection of the bathroom won't reveal anything out of the ordinary, at first. The urinals seem fine, if a bit smelly, and the bathroom stalls don't have anything sitting behind those closed doors. Even the sinks seem fine. The clues lie in the details -- not everything matches exactly when one pays close attention to the hallway reflected in the mirrors above the sink. There's something in that reflection that doesn't quite match what's seen in the 'real world' -- the true identity of the dispersal canister. Today, it seems, Pan will have to successfully purloin a bathroom trashcan and remove it from the building in order to be a hero.
Bronwen reaches out to grasp Logan's arm, just above his elbow. "You'll have to give me some time. I'm a cop, for what it's worth, so I can give you a hand. Or I can restrain you. Take your pick," she replies.
Kacela practically leers in trimuph as the woman intercepts Logan, seeking to indulge the grudge she's been holding for some time. However, that expression quickly fades into anger as she matches the features with a name: Breanna. The officer that somehow managed access to Fado's when all other people had been barred from entering. A low growl escapes her, as she fixes a steely glare, one hand extending to snatch at the hood of Logan's sweatshirt. "Stay out of this, it's an internal affair," she insists to Bronwen.
Logan issues a contemplative hum before he accepts, what he thinks, is mundane help. "Very well," he concedes, "I know that chemical weapons are set to go off here in the airport...I know their locations, as well. Several trash cans around the facility." He shakes his head afterward, "Im afraid I dont know how much time we have..."
Pan walks into one of the stalls, and presses the flusher. She giggles at the noise and then throws a whole batch of toilet paper in and flushes again. "Hahaha... Eek.", she steps out of the way before there is too much 'flooding'. She takes a look around, and almost misses the whole detail with the mirrors, but she notices something odd in the center one, peers at it, peers at the trash can. She blinks. She looks back at the mirror, looks back at the trashcan, "...Into the looking glass," She murmurs as she picks up the trashing can and tests her attunement on the ground underneath her. She's not sure what it's made out of. Hopefully it's made out of something 'mineralish' so she can dispose of these things easily instead of explain to airport security as to why she's sneaking out a trashcan.
That is all Logan gets out before he is suddenly pulled back.
Al-Exar grins at Lyman, and shrugs, his demeanor is so casual and his grin is so warm that most people would probably be willing to forgive Mr. Ramirez his social indignities. He cracks his knuckles and hops off the railing to behave with alittle more civility, he even puts his cigarette out, on the railing, which causes thick acrid black smoke to curl up, stinking nastily, "Well to be totally honest sir, maybe I should have been more up front with you in the beginning. I have a reason for being here, and I've been trying to get some leads on that. But my target is good, I haven't been able to catch a whiff of him, and it's been eating up all my time. Then I caught wind of some reports handed down from you and I realized I'd be better off to ask for some help and get back to working with my man Nick and everyone would probably be benefitting from some success. Besides isn't this suit just the slicket thing since God greased frog butts? And the Jazz trio I'm in has been taking some avant garde steps in new directions that while, being a tad uncouth, have gotten some good reviews at the Lux tonight. So what's the deal anyway," he actually lowers his voice at this point so as not to allow casual bystanders to overhear and thusly panic, "we gonna hijack a plane and fly it into the white house or what?" he demands with a mischievous wink.
"Tell me where some are and I can help," Bronwen says to Logan, simply. Kacela's voice has her gaze shifting slightly towards the other woman. "Oh, no. I do insist that *you* butt out. And if I have any correct assumption of your internal plan, I had better interfere."
There is a reason why Faith usually doesn't get involved in these sorts of things. It involves running, a general lack of subtlety, and a penchant for violence. She knows her chemical weapons, of course--she just doesn't know how to deploy them in use against civilians. She is a scientist, not a terrorist. And she could use a distraction. Faith... looks at a passer-by--just a random airport employee--and then looks deeper. As she walks past him, she tries to do a little subtle manipulation. Just enough to make a distraction, that's all.
Assuming that doesn't blow up in her face, she's going to try and make her way to a nearby trashcan, and tuck the cylinder inside under the pretense of throwing something out. She's blocking it with her body, but it still looks kind of suspicious.
Really, she's not used to this at all.
Roll by Faith: (2) (6) (2)
Kacela is more than happy to interrupt. Anything to delay. "I've got to get this off my chest. This little worm's trying to get on a plane and fly back home, after cheating on me. And you know what? It's probably because his parents wanted him dating a white girl. He even tried to use my credit card to buy a ticket!" She waves the e-ticket in the air as if to demonstrate the point. "Not that he'd be able to get on the plane anyway, since it was all in my name..." She puckers lips in a faint challenge to Bronwen, but then again, maybe it is possible, after all, who wouldn't want to get away from such nagging?
"A target?" Lyman says, humming dangerously, like a predator that has just realized he is hungry, "You should have told me. I have many of those here in Austin. As usual, we can work together." Then, running his eyes over the suit, he nods, smiling warmly at his original accomplice, "Yes. Youve cleaned up nicely." But then, picking up Victors heavy breathing, Lyman whirls away from his conversation with Al-Exar, his eyes flaring with a mixture of outrage and surprise. "Victor? What is going on?" he says, burying the fiery whisper in his shoulder and the jacket collar. Even before he gets an answer, Lyman stalks toward the escalator down, waving for Al-Exar to follow, "The deal? War here in Austing. And not the way I had hoped for. I suspect we may have some more angelic intervention. Youre always willing to bang up a host, yes?"
Uzal continues following Faith, keeping behind her in the crowd. She can't see any of her allies nearby, and she figures it will be easier to retrieve the bag once Faith puts it down, than try to get it away from Faith.
Ellen continues following Faith, keeping behind her in the crowd. She can't see any of her allies nearby, and she figures it will be easier to retrieve the bag once Faith puts it down, than try to get it away from Faith.
Pan continues to go through the metal! She's going to need to take a little bit to get down far enough to leave the bag in the ground far enough (though this is just a guess) that it won't reach the surface.
Yanked backward, Logan struggles to regain his balance. His eyes widen, not at his predicament, but at the familiar voice behind him. Once his expression settles, he attempts to sever Kacelas hold, one hand ripping at the hoody. Whether or not he frees himself, Logan appeals to Bronwen, a rather plainly, considering the circumstances, "Officer, she is lying. She is part of the plot to release the nerve gase inside these walls. She is also guilty of murder."
Al-Exar chuckles "No not at all, but I'm always willing to encourage them to have a healthy reckless disreguard for their personal wellbeing." He makes haste as he falls into step behind Lyman, "And I'm always in the mood for some good old fashioned fun."
"Oh, I see how it is. You're trying to cover your ass by coming up with a worse story about me. You don't go around talkin' about chemicals and bombs and stuff like that, they'll shut down the entire airport, and then all the pissed off passengers will be coming looking for you," Kacela continues. "Now why don't you and me go down to the Interfaith Chapel, you know, somewhere nice and quiet where we can work all out all these little problems we've been having. You don't have to play all these games to get my attention, honey," she practically coos out to Logan.
"Detective," Bronwen corrects automatically. "And I know full-well that she's a liar. I can also see that she'd have a finger in this destructive pie. Go complain to a customer representative of the airline, or your credit card company. I'm sure they'd be entertained for a bit." The latter is directed at Kacela.
"That's slander," Kacela directs to Bronwen.
...Oh hell. There's a certain feeling you get when something backfires on you--it's like putting your foot on what you think is solid ground, and finding out it's ice instead. There's the distinct sensation of something slipping, of something flowing back, going where it shouldn't go, and for a split-second, Faith feels very, very, very /angry/. And then, a choice. The woman stops. Her face has gone pale, and for a moment, she looks like she's about to be violently ill. Then, she swallows. Hard. Something /shrieks/ in her ears as she does so, but she ignores it, stuffing the cylinder into the garbage can. Now Faith is panicked, and hastily dashes across the hallway to a trashcan on the other side. Once the other cylinder is in place, the trigger is set. And then, she picks up the pace, bent on making it to an exit. Whatever just happened--and Faith knows damned well what just happened--it spooked the hell out of her.
"Excellent," Lyman purrs back, reaching the main floor, "Considering my corporeal role, I am, regretably, not always able to engage in such...obvious confrontation. I suspect I can identify the interlopers by sight. So, I will seek...you destroy. Or better yet." Marching through the crowd, Lyman speaks into his shoulder again, "Victor, where ever you are. Prepare to release the nerve agent. Arm the devices NOW." Expecting that command to go through, Lyman twists back to Al-Exar, "Were leaving." With that said, he starts for Kacela...
Al-Exar smiles, "Okay let's go, but yeah see I can be as obvious as I'd like and still disappear without a trace. I am the terror that flaps in the night."
That didn't go as planned. It looks like that particular person was tougher than he looked. Que sera, sera. That just means that Faith will go without a distraction for now. She assumes that her allies have been good, and have kept any meddlers off her tail, and as soon as she thinks the coast is clear, she stuffs the cylinder into the garbage can. The second cylinder goes into another can just as Faith hears the arming trigger go off. Uh oh. Faith really doesn't want to end up doing the neurotoxin tango today. Thus, she picks up the pace, bent on making it to an exit. She doesn't have the necessary equipment to stick around and watch in person. Pity, that.
"Slander's only valid if it's untrue. Obviously there are a number of us that agree that, yes, you are a liar. Give it up, we know you for what you are," Bronwen retorts to Kacela.
Logan does not stick around to follow the exchange between Kacela and Bronwen. Though something nags at him, the obligation...it is not an urge...to open his leather case and turn the weapon inside against the demoness, he decides the prevention of a crime is more important. Kurgans death cannot be undone and it really is only a matter of time until justice has its day.
Kacela emits a faint 'awwww' to herself as she releases Logan's clothing, and begins to circle around Bronwen in a languid strut reminiscent of sharks circling in water. "You know me for what I am? Stylish, a quick read, good on the computer? Oh, that's so sweet!" She flashes a grin at Bronwen, the kind that begs to get punched in, before emitting a faint hmmph to herself at Logan's retreat, his withdrawal confirming within her own mind the lack of truth in his words about her. There's a certain disinterested detachment about the weapons... and then Kacela catches the look from Lyman. She doesn't linger, but doesn't rush either.
Pan lets go of the bag. She hopes it isn't a nuke or something like in that one TV show. She looks up and starts going back up to the surfaec! But it's metal, but she's almost back! Oh ho ho ho!
Roll by Logan: (1) (1) (2)
Roll by Ellen: (4) (1) (3)
Roll by Bronwen: (6) (2) (1)
Roll by Pan: (3) (5) (4)
Ellen notes the exact locations in which Faith placed the bags. As soon as Faith turns her back and trots away, Ellen heads for the nearest can, opens it up, bends in and fishes for the bag, as flies swirl out buzzing from the can's smelly interior. Heh, good thing Pan taught me about 'dumpster diving', Ellen thinks as people stare at her. Finally, she yanks out the bag, then goes for the other, and starts to jog toward the exit looking for /some/ safe place to dispose of these things, as she hasn't a clue how to defuse the devices. In so doing, she spots Bronwen and Logan. "Officer York!" she calls to Bronwen.
"Were going," Lyman says, his tone equally dull for Kacela, "There have been some complications." Just about to sink back into his jacket collar, he catches sight of Bronwen and his eyes flare for a moment. They quickly settle, offering a sly, approving glance to Kacela. "Im so sorry to interrupt, but our flight is delayed...or at least, it will be." With those words, a chilling gaze tracks back to Bronwen...
"Yes, heel when you're called," Bronwen calls to Kacela tauntingly. "Maybe you'll even get a cookie for being such a good girl." Lyman's cold gaze is returned with a chilly amber one. "Oh look, here comes your master."
Logan is actually running steadily away from Bronwen. He is searching for one of the cannisters that was placed prior to Faith being put in charge of the chemical weapons. The first garbage can he encounters, Logan runs right up, wading through the contents with arms wide open. The people that eye him just shake their head...he really must be hungry.
Ellen skids up to Bronwen, looking frantic. "Officer York, quick! I have to get rid of these!" She lowers her voice, trying to avoid setting off a panic. "They're bombs... I saw one of Lyman's people plant them."
Bronwen's eye almost twitches. Almost. "Stars above, then get them outside! Don't prance around the airport looking like you need to use the restroom! Move!" And with that she pulls her cellphone out of her jacket pocket and dials the city's bomb squad. Odd how she never questioned the objects being bombs.
"We all serve someone, Detective," Kacela counters easily, before emitting a disappointed sigh at Lyman. "And you went to all that trouble to get us a trip to Cancun for my birthday. I was looking forward to those beaches. Good intentions are always foiled, no?" And then Ellen skitters up. "HOLY SHIT!" Kacela shrieks in unison with Bronwen's own exclamations, the surprised reaction genuine enough, before she turns on one heel and begins to swiftly walk toward the nearest exit and open air.
Ellen doesn't wait any longer, she just heads for the exit, holding the bags close to her so they don't get bumped by anyone. Once outside, she looks for a place where there aren't a lot of people around, or vehicles with fuel in them, or anything else that could cause serious trouble if an explosion happens near it.
Pan's head pops out of the ground, just in time for a boy to step on her head. "Ugh!" Pan grunts.
The boy steps off and looks at Pan as she climbs her way out, 'Are you a zombie?' He asks.
"No," Pan says, "I'm Pan." She tugs herself free and walks out of the bathroom, pausing only to grab at the kid and drag him outside. "Sorry, sorry, not a zombie, but better safe than sorry."
Exit, exit, where's the exit? Faith can't get back to the concourse, and decides, therefore, to take an emergency fire exit. This could very well result in an alarm being triggered, as most fire exits come equipped with those sorts of things. But damn the consequences--Faith wants out of here before those cylinders go up. This fire exit should put her out in open air. Eluding anyone that comes after her will be more problematic.
"Unfortunately," Lyman says through a heavy sigh, "Perhaps next time." His face brightens somewhat, finding something positive in the tradgedy. He gestures back at Al-Exar, "One good thing, though. I ran into an old friend of mine!" Then, the word bomb is mentioned. "What?" Lyman says, shifting toward Kacela as if to protect her from danager, "Now we really must be going." Then, to the accusation... "My people?" Lyman puzzles curiously, turning to face his accusor, "Kacela and I were merely taking a much needed vacation after all the unwanted publicity. I have no people here..."
Al-Exar "Gee Nicholas." Suharto comment cheerfully patting Lyman on the back, "I didn't get my christmas bonus OR a paycheque from you in... EVER. I always thought we were friends but if I'm your people I'm getting a raw deal aren't I chum?" he laughs good naturedly although he does send a slightly caustic glance towards the issuer of these claims.
A scruffle of a fumbled handset can be heard to Lyman before a thin, wheedling voice says, "I felt them in my mind. Too many secrets, too much wealth. There will be other times. But yes, the activators. In order that they were placed, no?" It's activated, and the fire exit opened by Faith does indeed begin moving people towards the exits. The first canister releases, but will pretty much remain as is for the next millennia, barring any major construction events that may unearth it.
The second one near the Chinese eatery begins to chime softly, before emitting a spray and plume as Logan dives for it, the nearest fire exit three yards away, emitting yelps of dismay from those waiting in line for their wonton soup. The two carried out by Ellen have been taken by the HazMat teams, and are barely in containment before they dispense their deadly contents.
Roll by Logan: (2) (1) (2)
As she is herded out the door by Lyman and crew, she fixes him with a pained look. "You have /GOT/ to be kidding me," she says with guttural disdain as he introduces the instrument-wrecking man whose blather she had to endure the entire time driving down to the airport. She gives a tired wave of a hand. "It was the gun shirt, wasn't it? I won't wear it next time to the airport." If not interrupted, she's going to continue on her way out.
As the gas rises up, Logan blinks his eyes in succession. This is the expression of his discontent, which is directed internally. He is too late. Still, he cannot linger. A time for self essement will come. Keeping his vessel in good health a more pressing matter, Logan drops to the ground and rolls away. With the gas spreading, Logan keeps to the ground, crawling to safety.
"waaagh! Let go, I have to go!" The boy says.
"Look I'm sorry. First kiss!", Pan gives him one! On the cheek, "There! Now forget about the bathroom until you get on the plane or something, okay?"
The boy blinks.
Luckily, usually airport security doesn't care as much about -leaving- the airport as it does entering it so Pan makes her way out. There's no such thing as a terrorist at the age of thirteen!
Uzal makes his way to the exit as soon as he sees others departing. He doesn't care to stay around when some massive panic is evidently about to ensue. Carefully, he puts his arm around his frightened young engineer friend and tugs him off to safety, protecting him from the press of the crowd. He /is/ part Mercurian, after all.
The people in the line aren't quite as collected as Logan. A few drop to the ground, complete with coughing and quaking spasms, before the door is slammed open by the panicking stampede of enthusiasts of Americanized Chinese cuisine. This has the incidental effect of diluting the nerve agent, although breaking news reports will contest otherwise!
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