multiversallogs | Mission Delta

Entry tags:

Mission Delta

Who: List forthcoming.
What: Getting a lantern.
Where: Spatters.
When: NOW. This thread will likely cover a few days.
Warnings: To be updated.

Dear Mission Delta,

So you're going in to Spatters to deal with actual people. Actual confrontation how about that. Well don't feel too bad or too glad, these guys hardly count as Citizens but that's on them. They have apparently collected a significant number of neat and cleverful things, all of which you may keep should you come across them. All exempt for the lantern your gods require of course. Don't come back without it.

Your boons for this mission are as follow:

A Weapons Cache - I haven't personally gone through every single item in this collection but I am told they are for pacification and non-lethal if you hold them right. Who knows what happens if you hold them wrong.

Ward Breaking Talismans - You will not be kept safe from hexes, but you will be able to break through most protective spells and also bonus: you can touch the talisman to objects and people to see if they are what they seem to be. Pretty useful.

Spatters is in a constant sad state of affairs. It's not a neighbourhood into which respectable citizens often travel, and it is easy to see why; there seem to be mostly cracked houses and smashed windows, half-tents and shanties made up by discarded materials. This is where Baedal's rejects end up, the half-wits, the psychotics who cannot function in the City and those who can't deal with shifted reality. It's also a home to those who have business they wish to keep out of the public eye. Man-eaters and predators of different stripes are known to stalk Spatters. The streets are eerily empty, but perhaps the people here are so used to hiding that they hardly ever seen.

The House have a building in the area, and it is not far away from the basement that has been pointed out as host to the Candlelighter hideout. The place is likely to be occupied, and the occupants are likely to expect hostile company.

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Robin dips her head, shadowing her eyes, forcing out a tight, resigned smile. "Ah, these are Christian men and women, and they hate us," she says, quietly acknowledging her own non-human status for those paying attention. "How regrettable ..."

She doesn't sound terribly surprised. "I can protect our escape route -" she looks up, then - "they may attempt to trap us inside, and -" smiling, haha, isn't it funny to feel this way - "I'll feel much better knowing we can get out than in among the mass of them."

Hate coming from those who hide behind religion. Rachel's not fond of that; she's seen, back home, the kinds of things that result from those attitudes.

"I'd appreciate that," she says, in reply to Robin's offer. She realizes she's not the expert on anything here, but: "We can do the most awesome job ever at getting this thing, but it does no one any good if we get it and then we can't get out."

Huh. That's interesting about the cultists being responsible for the city's recent mess, but Arthur declines to do anything beyond continuing to look attentive. Not much of what he learned about them seems technically relevant to the task immediately at hand.

"That's the idea," he says to Rachel, tucking the holster into his shoulder bag—which he completely had this whole time, by the way, la la la—and then doing the same with the baton, the talisman, and soforth. Some people can get away with wandering around fully armed, but he's accustomed to hiding it, so hide it he shall.
Then, to Robin: "Take Alan with you. It seems unlikely we'll need to argue our way out of there, but you never know." You giant tourist, you.

"All right, let's move out. Those of you taking the train, spread out among the cars, act like you don't all know each other, just to be safe. Train stations are monitored, so don't group up there. We'll meet at [intersection near to, but not right on top of, the Candlelighter house]." He flicks the cuff from his wrist to glimpse his watch, announces the current time. "Let's give each other two hours to get there. If you're early, just hang tight. If you run into a snag, let me know, because if you turn up late we're going in without you."

One more sidelong look to Eames, and then he's off.

Spatters itself has been described in the post, so if you want a refresher, look up to the top of the page.

The Candlelighter house is an old brick building (http://i.imgur.com/RLFOQ.jpg) stolen from some urban area. What was once yellowish brown brick is now stained nearly black with smoke and exhaust that can hardly have originated in Baedal.

It might at some point have been some sort of industrial building closed down in the Earthly 1950s before it got stolen, but now it is appears deserted and full of trash. And Candlelighters, apparently.

BE CAREFUL EVERY DOOR AND WINDOW HAS BEEN WARDED TO SEND AN ALARM. Also be careful with whatever light sources are being used -- certain hallways are charmed with a particularly nasty hex that can turn shadows into prowling shades if fed enough light and heightened emotions.

Arthur arrives at the designated intersection almost exactly one hour and fifty minutes after his departure. If any other members of Delta team had been looking for him on the El Train, or indeed at or around any station between Mog Hill and the Spatters, they would not have seen him.

He looks much the same as he did before leaving the temple, save having replaced his wingtips with a more practical (but no less stylish!) pair of boots. Still not visibly armed, still unsmiling, now twisting the top back onto a small flask and slipping it into his bag as he swallows. He looks entirely non-threatening. Kind of scrawny, actually, from a distance.

"Hey."

Rachel's voice carries softly as she approaches, looking exactly as she did at the temple. Same clothes, same messenger bag slung across her body, same brave face put on despite her feeling terribly out of place. She strolls up casually, standing close but not too close in case of curious eyes.

"Anyone else get here yet?"

Robin's hair looks a little more windblown than when she accompanied Alan out of the temple, but her appearance is otherwise unchanged when she steps out from one of the connecting streets, Alan coming up behind her, and nods her head to Rachel's query, having arrived just in time to hear it.

"Not exactly ..." She shrugs, smiling through the embarrassment. "We've been near here for a time? We only - haha - found ourselves a bit lost! Sorry."

(This is not necessarily the truth, though it's true enough that it likely saves answering awkward questions about their arrival method, too; with Robin worried about time and not letting down the rest of their ad-hoc team, they ... didn't take the train either.

(Perhaps attentive sky-watchers saw that brief streak of light flash across the sky from somewhere in Mog Hill to somewhere just inside the Spatters an hour or so previous, but it didn't land anywhere near here when it came down. Probably just an errant flare or something of that nature, who knows right now, anyway.)

After several minutes, Jenny comes around a corner looking fairly similar to how she appeared before: black stretch jeans, converse and white vest-top under a black blazer. The one vital difference is she seems to have ditched her bag and has acquired a holster, although it's quite discreet underneath her jacket. It currently holds one of the weapons from the temple along with a rather snazzy looking sonic blaster, if she does say so herself.

...aaand now that she has a run-down of what to expect, and a good estimation of what the others in the mission are like, she also seems a fair bit more upbeat. Given the circumstances anyway.

"Hey campers," she says, as she bops up.

Before making her appearance, she'd spent a little time quietly sitting in some back alley in Spatters trying to get a feel for this neighbourhood -- what, if any, local spirits had sway, which gods were strongest here, and where the 'heaviest' weight of the dead was.

Njoki nods in greeting, but otherwise doesn't speak. She's brought along an over the shoulder bag with a few useful bits of conjure, but other than that, she's unarmed.

"They've still got a few minutes to show," says our little friend, easing to a stop near the others, both hands now in his pockets. "We'll wait an extra five if necessary, but hanging around here too long is likely to attract attention from the locals, which we don't need."

Arthur looks over his shoulder slowly, appearing pretty casual despite his own simmering anticipation of the mission. He's done this sort of thing countless times before, and whenever he's allowed himself to feel complacent about his talents he invariably makes mistakes—hell, on their last job there was a gap in his intel, one so massive it nearly killed the team and did get one of them shot—so he feels it's in everyone's best interests to be stressed about it. It. The current job. The next job. Everything. It's why they pay him the big bucks, after all.

God he needs a vacation.

Remy is here! You didn't notice him approach, because he is fucking stealthy. He's dressed the same; who knows how he got out here.

He is also, as of now, right over Arthur's shoulder!

"You kinda look twelve, homme, anybody ever tell you that?"

Robin - does not guffaw, that would absolutely ruin their attempts to be secretive.

But she doesn't make a very good (read: any) effort to suppress the startled gasp (WHERE DID YOU COME FROM, HOW DID YOU DO THAT) that turns into a low chuckle instead.

"I don't know, I think it could be charming! ... in the right - eh-heh - lighting, of course?"

Eames strolls up less stealthily and looking significantly worse for the wear than he did a few hours ago. Coat rumpled, face smudged with dirt, missing a shoe – well, not missing exactly, since he's pulling it out of a burlap sack as he walks, but that begs the question, What was it doing off his foot in the first place? (Wouldn't you like to know.)

"You should see him without the waistcoats. It's worse."

Yeah, he's just going to leave that implication how it sounded.

Arthur looks surprised to see Remy there, perhaps even impressed, and then...he talks, and then Robin talks, and then Eames talks and his expression completely shadows over.

"Just put your shoe on," he says to his associate, and if he weren't a professional it would sound a hell of a lot more like he's snapping at the guy. But he is one. So it only sounds a little like that. He then pulls the holster and belt out of his shoulder bag and affixes it around his narrow waist with what can only be described as testy efficiency, looking at no one.
(Eames may feel free to communicate whatever it is he's learned as a ridiculous vagrant, apparently.)

Njoki snorts and rolls her eyes in annoyance before speaking, "I realize this is amateur hour at the dude ranch, but can we leave eighth grade now and get this damn thing over with?"

That she's stressed out about this mission combined with the frankly idiotic teasing has pushed her buttons so that there may be a bit of a rumble to her voice that wasn't there when they were speaking in the temple.

"There are people's lives and prune-y fingers at stake." In reference to Ceith's (http://multiversal.livejournal.com/28716.html) lovely message. "Not that I'm enthusiastic about the prospects of roughing people up, but it couldn't happen to a more deserving bunch."

Bigots can get punted into a sun, for all Jenny cares.

Across from the Candlelighter House, there's a fairly filthy and nondescript brownstone-style porch. To one side, there's a window well (http://foundation.repairwinnipeg.ca/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/WindowWellsAcc_hdr.jpg) that stinks of old garbage and urine, and to the other, the well is blocked over with old cardboard 'coated' in something like cellophane and duct tape.

Edited 2011-08-02 01:25 (UTC)

Upon entering the Candlelighter House, it's clear that there's little of interest on the ground floor: a few pamphlets scattered about, a solar panel angled to catch one of the rare rays of sunlight let in through the boarded windows, and empty bedrolls haphazardly pushed up against the wall.

The kitchen has a little food in it, but it looks as if whoever has been living there has been reduced to rice and beans with a little weak tea. Perhaps it hasn't been safe to go out shopping? For those familiar with it, there's a strong feeling that the people of this building have felt themselves under siege.

In the kitchen, there's a small, twisting staircase, angled down toward the basement. Just approaching the door, there's a strong scent of wet earth, mouldy papers, and decay.

To the right of the entranceway, there's a narrow, twisting staircase that leads to the upper floors of the house. The lights are out and the windows boarded over with layers of wood and cardboard, all reinforced thin strips of burnished aluminum cut from cans. It's a curious luxury in a metal-starved city.

On the walls, someone has painted elongated figures in dark shades of brown and black with wide, white concentric circle eyes.

Robin considers, for a worryingly lengthy amount of time, whether poking the cardboard covering the blocked window well right away is a good idea or not, and then turns to Alan, rubbing at the bottom of her chin and clicking her tongue against the back of her teeth.

"So, do you want the smelly hole in the ground, or shall I?"

Those sensitive to hypocrisy or backseat driving will perhaps appreciate that Arthur intends to back up his unsolicited assumption of command by taking point—or he'll be made fun of from behind, whichever. With his tranq pistol at the ready—he holds it like he was born with a gun in his hand—and the bag strapped more tightly against his back so it won't snag or hang in the way, he splits off from the group assigned to the lower levels, leaving them with a low-spoken wish for good luck. It's terse, but honest.

At the foot of the frankly really unappealing stairs, he hisses over his shoulder to the three (hopefully) behind him, "Everyone bring lights?"

"I did."

Rachel pulls a flashlight out of her bag of flashlights. They're her best weapon in a situation like this, though she hopes she never has to use them for that purpose.

It's a little hard, after all, to pretend you're just as normal as everyone else if you go busting out some magical superpower you're not even that great at using.

"I have more if anyone didn't bring one."

"Gee," Alan murmurs (for a loudmouth he's surprisingly soft-spoken; for a man whose most useful contribution to the mission with which they've been tasked would likely be in the role of human shield, he's surprisingly...not relaxed, certainly, but collected), "how kind of you to offer."

With an air of resignation, he too considers the window well. "It doesn't appear to pose an immediate threat, other than to one's organ of olfaction." Still, he sounds less than hopeful. "What about, ah"--he fumbles through a vocabulary that all at once seems painfully inadequate--"magic? Can you...detect anything?"

Eames could try harder to look properly admonished. He tends to assume – often incorrectly – that no one actually takes teasing to heart and thus there's nothing to be sorry for. Still, the look he gives Arthur would almost be apologetic if he didn't look so perpetually amused. (You know he adores your grumpy face, sir.)

"Right, moving along, then." Shoe on, professionalism restored as much as if ever is, "So I took a little stroll by our destination." Like you do. "Good news is, it's not positively crawling with guards – in fact, I didn't see a single one, and the way they have the windows boarded up, I would be surprised if they have much in the way of look-outs, either. It's not the kind of set-up you use when you have a lot of manpower. So that's promising." Being that there are nine of them. He'd feel better with a team of nine experienced thieves, but still, numbers count for something.

"Of course, then we have the bad news. So far as I can tell, there's only the one door. Whatever fortifications do they have, we'll be walking right into them, and unfortunately I don't see a way around that one."

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Mission Delta

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Group Awesome: Look-out

Group Bad-Ass: Basement

Group Candyland: Upstairs and Attic

Re: Group Awesome: Look-out

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