multiversallogs | Interlude: Militiavisits by Candlelight

Who: The staff and residents of the Valhalla Inn with a special guest appearance by the Militia.
What: A lock-down. A shake-down. Some questions.
Where: The Valhalla Inn. Different locations will be designated by different subthreads.
When: Early Coardi morning and into the afternoon.
Notes: OOC Discussion
Warnings: None yet, but expect (subtle) threats, coercion, and general jackboot'n'blackbag shenanigans.

Rumour travels fast in Baedal; soon everyone in Mog Hill and beyond will know that the Militia are at the Valhalla Inn and no one is getting out. Official word is that this is strictly routine; protocol dictates Arrival Houses be locked down for evaluation after a City-wide crisis. It's still early morning. Outside, the sun is rising after a night of gentle rain. Birds sing and gorge themselves on dead monkeys yet to be cleared away. It's going to be a beautiful day.

Meanwhile, inside Valhalla, the Militia have firmly requested that every guest, every employee and every incidental visitor gather in the Common Room as they search the rest of the Inn. The proprietor and her staff are visibly unhappy about the event, but the closest they have come to voicing dissent is managing to call for the Sheriff. Still, so far the gentleman who seems to be in charge of the proceedings has been nothing but curtly polite. The Militia works fast; they have gone through the whole place in less than an hour and are now, as they say, ready to take interviews. These will be conducted one-on-one in a different room of the Inn. Most individuals who arrived after the creature invasion are sorted out and escorted outside of the building. Some, however, are not.

None of the Special's agents or their more thuggish companions say so, at least not out in the Common Room, but it is evident that their search turned up something.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The Militia likely takes issue with any crowd of more than two people, and Hellsing certainly is that. Still, it's never personal, and there is little reason for hostilities. Powell nods, not exactly invested in the things Hellboy has to say. Interdimensional shenanigans are all taken in a stride here or are otherwise written off as lunacy.

"I see, yes. What good fortune, to be greeted by friends." This is not unheard of and makes no obvious impression on the Agent. He's quiet for a moment before he continues. "The Militia of course wants nothing but the very best relations with your Guild. You were quite helpful during this past crisis, as I am sure you will be again. Meanwhile, I understand you frequent the Inn's library?"

Hellboy simply nods at Powell's recognition of his helpfulness. It didn't really seem like something he was looking for a conversation over, and a more vocal expression of appreciation would've required actively working to make his naturally severe features form his best approximation of a smile. (How any of his friends put up with that, he doesn't know.) So instead he just goes for a solemn nod, and figures that just not scowling will be good enough.

Not trying for expressions also helps mask his mild surprise at how closely they apparently were watching him (and, presumably, others either in the inn, the cohort, or the city in general). "My personal reading time's been a bit limited, but yeah, I'd checked a book out before I moved out. Just returned it, in fact. Haven't decided what I want to read next, yet."

The Militia no doubt wishes it could keep tabs on everyone everywhere all of the time. Resources and priorities being what they are however make educated guesswork and implication far more efficient tools.

"Very good. Reading is an excellent pastime. The reason I ask is not so we can track your reading habits- " Pardon his harmless little joke. " -but rather because we discovered some dangerous and misleading texts in there, and we would be very eager to speak with the person who put them there."

That gets his attention, and he sits up a little straighter, stroking his little goatee.

"Really," he says, intrigued. "How dangerous are we talking about? It's not the Necronomicon, is it? I can't tell you how many different versions of that stupid thing I've run into over the years."

Given the MacCarthy-esque vibe he gets from first Burnworth and now the Militia's general style, he doesn't really expect that Powell means that kind of dangerous, but better safe than sorry, and he really has seen a truly excessive number of Necronomicons.

There is a momentary twitch of what may in fact be genuine amusement on the Agent's face. Perhaps he is reflecting on things put into perspective, or maybe rogue Necronomicons is a common feature around these parts.

"No, it is not grimoire, but mundane words can still cause quite a bit of damage. It's a publication designed to entice the unwary and ignorant to make forays in the fog. It is not the our business to police the excursions of private Citizens, but we do acknowledge that advocating mass suicide is unhealthy."

"Oh."

He slumps back down in his chair. While he's glad that it's not a Necronomicon-like situation, pro-fog propaganda isn't as interesting, especially since it's also not nearly so sinister as he was expecting from Powell's lead-up. (The possible hint of amusement on Powell's face, however, is something Hellboy is quietly pleased to have managed.)

"No, I must've missed that. Only things I've seen about messing around with the fog were in the papers and on the network."

What looks like Powell's good mood stays. What is it to him if his feelings on certain proclivities are not shared? "We're not interested in fog-traders, or what the papers have to say. The publication in itself could be harmless - of course I don't agree with that - but it is what it represents that bothers us."

He thumbs through some documents (the Burnworth pamphlets are there, as well as some thin paper folders), until he finds what he is looking for. It's an inoffensive piece of double-folded paper, the words 'INDUCE AND JUSTIFY have been printed on the front as well as the stylised depiction of a flickering flame. He holds it up.

"They call themselves Candlelighters. They are the expressed enemies of all good life in this City. Now Baedal is not a prison though we understand that some newcomers may feel that way. We may even understand the individual desire to go home. However such ambitions cannot and must not be allowed to threaten the lives of the millions who live here or indeed the existence of the City itself. Do you agree?"

Oh. Oh. There's the Orwellian menace he was expecting. (The title of the Candlelighters' pamphlet seems at least as well suited to the Militia themselves, but of course he's not going to say that.) While Hellboy's face isn't so good at smiles, it does a fine line in, well, linefaces, such as the one he directs in the general direction of the Militiaman and/or the pamphlet.

Answering the question as presented seems like a bit of a trap, so instead he aims for a more neutral approach and asks, "You're saying that these Candlelighter guys are trying to convince folks that getting killed by whatever's in the fog is the ticket home? That does seem like a pretty nasty thing to do, although I can't imagine there are that many people so desperate that they'd do something that stupid."

Well, that should at least give an idea whether he's likely to fall for it himself, anyway.

Hey, the Militia resembles that remark. Or might. We'll never know. Special Militiaman Powell watches Hellboy with professional interest.

"That is part of it, yes. These Candleligthers have other methods, but the agenda is ultimately the same; harm to this City and harm to its Citizens. This-" he indicates the pamphlet "-is merely to catch the attention of the unwary. Unwary humans at least, this group does not have the best track record with xenians."

If nothing else then this is clearly a reason to frown upon them. (The Militia itself has no official policy regarding species; some of the individuals out in the common room were clearly not human.)

"We can't say for certain that they are involved in our recent troubles, but we would like to eliminate the possibility."

If Powell was expecting Hellboy to rile at Candlelighter racism, he'll be a bit disappointed; the way the matter has been described, he takes it to mean that xenians are generally more inclined to be skeptical, which currently sounds like a good thing.

Hunter S. Thompson once wrote, Few people understand the psychology of dealing with a highway traffic cop. A normal speeder will panic and immediately pull over to the side. This is wrong. It arouses contempt in the cop heart. Make the bastard chase you. He will follow. While he's not much for psychology, he knows that the obvious impulse to ask, how can I help is the normal speeder approach, and once he quashes it, it's easy enough to spot an alternate but still direct approach that won't require any of the guile that he mostly lacks.

"Well, this is the first I've heard of them, so." He shrugs, as though to say I got nothing. "They ever summon something nasty from the back of beyond, though, give a call. That's pretty much what we're here for."

Interlude: Militiavisits by Candlelight

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