Posts tagged World Of Darkness
Some day I’m going to play a caster in D&D 3.5 (sorcerer, wizard, etc) whose spells look like cats.
Fireball is a giant cat exploding.
Chain lightning is a kitten stream.
Magic missile is a lap-seeking cat.
I will be empowered by cats! Muwahahaha!
(Source: velvetdemon.net)
They exited the coffee shop, where Quinn’s motorcycle—a fancy, souped-up Harley that looked right out of a steampunk convention—was waiting. Devica clung to Quinn’s back as they rode, Quinn’s cat (Alastair, was it?) curled around the woman’s shoulders. Against the other woman’s objections, Devica made her drive back to her apartment.
“Clarence retrieved all of your information of note,” Quinn said, dismounting and following her up the three flights of stairs.
“I keep the best stuff out of my computer.” Devica unlocked her door quickly, despite the fact that her hands were shaking a little. “Are you kidding? Some people here have the ‘I can get your digital information with the twitch of my fingers’ power.”
Quinn raised an eyebrow. “And breaking in isn’t easier?”
“Well—”
About to say that she moved quite a bit to prevent breaking and entering, Devica’s breath was knocked from her throat by a punch to her solar plexus. Making a hissing noise, she dropped to the floor of her entryway. A man, dressed in black, stood poised over her. And then, all of the sudden, the man was flying back and slammed into the wall. Six arrows pinned him there.
Devica looked up to see Quinn standing with a bow where her grey umbrella had been, expression tight and grim.
“Let’s not be too hasty,” Quinn growled. “We haven’t even been introduced, yet.”
Devica coughed, standing up and moving so that Quinn was in between she and her attacker. “Who the hell is that?”
“Don’t recognize them? I don’t, either. I’m practically a tourist on your world, remember? …Clarence, see what you can—”
Suddenly, the man in black—face obscured by a hood and leather mask—broke free of the arrows, with a pained yell. He rushed the two women, still yelling. Devica let out a yell of her own as Quinn pushed her back onto the stairwell, getting out of the charge’s way.
Quinn, between a rock and a hard place, slammed her bow across the man’s face. He let out a surprised yelp, and, with a snarl, Alastair lept onto the man’s shoulder and dug his claws in with an almost-demonic hiss. The man’s reaction was much stronger this time—a shout of pain, as he whirled to dislodge the cat.
It didn’t work. Quinn surged forward while he was distracted, sucker-punching the man and knocking him to the floor.
“You’re feisty,” she snapped, pinning him with her weight. “What the hell were you doing in her apartment? And if you say, ‘I’d rather die,’ keep in mind that it will be prolonged and you won’t enjoy it—”
He opened his mouth to speak, but she closed it with a rough hand.
“I wasn’t finished. If you say some kind of devoted plug and then swallow a cyanide capsule, I’ll make an example out of you. Everyone will know what kind of underwear you have on. And if you keep silent, I’m going to start hitting you until you talk and let my cat pee in your eyes. He’ll do it, too. Capiche?”
Looking slightly more intimidated, the stranger opened his mouth again. “The messenger must not be stopped. He must be allowed to make the deal!”
Quinn growled. “Gods be damned, I forgot about fancy riddles. Look, if you’re talking about Vrole, it’s my duty to bring him back. And I’m going to. There’s nothing you can do about it, pajama ninja… and oh dammit, did you just suck down a cyanide capsule in addition to the fancy riddle?”
He had indeed gone limp under her. Devica, feeling more confused than ever, pushed by them to check her apartment for damages. But he hadn’t touched anything, from the looks of it.
Quinn wandered into the main room with a sigh. “Know of any tall poles around here?”
“You’re going to prank a dead man? I thought you were kidding!”
She smiled slightly. “Old habits die hard. And I’ve lost respect for those who are blindly loyal, especially to organizations.”
Devica shook her head and threw up her hands. “I wash my hands of that. I won’t let myself be troubled by having named the poor guy’s pole—”
“No worries, Clarence just found one anyway.” She raised an eyebrow at Devica. “You’re religious, aren’t you? Respect for the dead, all that?”
“I’ve got the usual Los Angeles religion. Spirituality.”
“Well, nobody’s perfect,” Quinn chuckled, going back into the entrance hall. “Grab your stuff. Take your time. I’ll be right back after I humiliate this idiot’s choices in life.”
(Source: velvetdemon.net)
“Do I look like I’ve escaped from an insane asylum?” Quinn’s eyes went to her clothes, and then her hands. She glanced up with a quick smile at Devica. “Maybe it does. I’m missing the strait jacket, though. If they’d thrown me in an insane asylum, long ago, there would be strait jackets involved.”
Her comment was almost the opposite of comforting, but Devica appreciated the apparent honesty. She was in the business of information; she was used to people fighting over even the smallest fragments of a word. Honesty was something relatively new.
“Okay, so you’re not an escaped mental patient—which I’m glad to hear, by the way,” she added wryly. “I’m supposed to believe that story you just told me? It was pretty outlandish.”
Quinn smiled again, just as quick. “Maybe. But you seem smart. And I know you’ve got a lot of outlandish floating around in your head, about your world. It’s more than what it looks like, right? People are more than what they seem. I’ve been here before, I’ve seen things that I know you’re aware of. So let’s toss out the mental circling and the testing—you need my help. And I possibly need yours.”
“Just possibly?”
“I’m resourceful,” she objected, with a note of pride. “But seriously, someone mentioned that you were on the case, and after seeing your files, I’d much rather work with you. You know the layout of the city, the best spots for information. It will take less time if we—you know—team up.”
Devica looked to Quinn’s cat, who was staring at Devica with a thoroughly unnerving expression. It was irritation, there was no doubt about it.
“Okay,” Devica said slowly, “I’ll do it. But just because I want to see what the hell you are, exactly. Now what do you think my current task is?”
“I told you. You’re looking for a strange, grey creature. I know who it is.” Quinn lifted her arm over to the other side of the table, gesturing that Devica look to her watch. A moment later, a picture of the unknown thing appeared in the face. “Vrole Tal’uath. He’s a universe-hopper, just like me. But unlike me, he’s on the wrong end of universal discipline. Keeps stealing technology and messing up timelines.”
I’m going to have a headache later from all this jargon, Devica thought. “So what’s this organization like? The one that polices all of you.”
“Right now, I’m representing them as an LRHE. Licensed Reality Hopping Enforcer.” She chuckled a little, retracting her arm to her side. “I used to do it a lot more, with a group of friends. Then I stopped and traveled with… someone else. Now I’m doing this on my own.” Her expression fell for a moment, before she sternly cleared it. “Anyway, Vrole is my responsibility right now.”
Devica resisted the urge to ask about the ‘someone else.’ Another time, maybe. “And what is he, this Vrole? Is he a, uh, Changeling? …if you know what those are.”
“Clarence is keeping me up to speed from your files,” Quinn noted with a quiet laugh. “No, he’s not. Well… kind of. He’s my kind of a changeling. They’re very different in most respects. But he can change his appearance at will. And right now, he’s stalking your friend because your friend has big things ahead of them. I’m not sure if Vrole intends to disrupt those things, or make them larger.”
“So what do we do?”
“Call your friend. Have him meet us. Then I’ll take down Vrole and arrest him for the LRHE.”
“It’s gonna go just like that?” Devica asked doubtfully.
“No,” Quinn chortled, a grin spreading onto her face. “It never does.”
“…great.”
(Source: velvetdemon.net)
Two strong cups of coffee—very, very strong—later, and a trip to a local diner that Devica frequented more often in the AM hours, Devica felt more alive and less like a square of sentient cardboard. She sat opposite from her strange benefactor, in a booth upholstered in red velvet. Quinn Riddle was quite easily sucking down a chocolate milkshake, her scrawny and slightly alarming cat sitting on the table. Devica didn’t appreciate how its solid black, soulless eyes kept drifting to her. Quinn had just finished telling her a rather outlandish-sounding story. A story that was apparently her life.
“So,” Devica murmured slowly, “you’re from a different universe, and traveled to a different universe by accident, and you used to work for an organization that polices universe-travel. And now you’re doing a bit of detective work for them, since you’ve split from your boyfriend. And your cat… thinks he’s a black man, but he didn’t used to. And… you can’t die permanently. Did I forget anything big?”
Quinn, finishing the last of her milkshake, smiled and sat back in the booth. “No, that’s pretty much it. I know it’s a lot to take in.”
“It’s, ah, more than that.” Devica eyed her skeptically. “How do I know you haven’t escaped from an insane asylum recently? You’re very kind, which I appreciate, but still.”
(Source: velvetdemon.net)
Her vision swam in front of her eyes, as the room in front of her materialized; her eyelids felt so heavy, it was like they were stapled down; her fingers and arms ached and refused to do much, like hard rubber.
“Oh, good,” a conversational voice broke through the fog, “you’re awake. I was afraid you were dead. That was a lot of alcohol in your system. Clarence says you’re fine, though. Readings look good.”
It was a soft voice, but still—it felt like someone hitting her in the head repeatedly with an iron bar. Devica groaned, rolling slowly onto her back and staring around at her apartment. Someone had opened the windows. Probably the voice. It was the first time they’d been opened since she’d begun to rent the premises. She had to move a lot, now. It was just her lot in life.
Devica then remembered that there was a person, somewhere, and glanced around until her eyes caught the silhouette of a somewhat tall brunette, leaning against the kitchen door. The brunette, wearing simple but dark clothes and a leather longcoat, smiled cagily. She had a cat on her shoulder, a scrawny grey thing with dark stripes in its fur—and solid black eyes.
“Who th’ hell ‘re you?” Devica managed.
“Oh, sorry, manners,” the woman apologized. She walked over and crouched down next to Devica, offering her a slim, pale hand. “Quinn Riddle. And the fuzzball is Alastair.”
It had to have been the drunken fog in her system, because it looked to Devica like the cat nodded at her. Shaking her head, Devica sighed, “Devica Baines.”
“I know. I read your I.D. to get you home. You were acting pretty crazy at the club, but I know a smart one when I see one.” Quinn had a friendly smile. It was comforting, somehow. “Drowning your sorrows?”
“No.” She groaned, trying to stand up. It didn’t work. “…fulfilling a deal.”
“That’s rough. It’s about the weird thing you have a photo of on your computer, right? …sorry, Clarence is years ahead of your tech. Although it’s quite good, I have to say, for this time period.”
Devica stared at her. “What are you talking about? Are you a hacker? Who’s Clarence?”
Quinn gently took hold of her shoulder, helping her into a sitting position. “Let’s get some coffee into you. Then we’ll talk.”
(Source: velvetdemon.net)
Inside of the Sphere, it was as noisy and offensive as she remembered. She’d spent years drowning in its glamour, drugs and alcohol. Not so much the illicit activities in back rooms, though, which she was now walking past on her way to the owner’s office—tucked deep inside the building. Devica tried not to look, only gaining a few glimpses on accident as she rounded corners, just in case there were political scandals afoot. It didn’t do to get involved with more problems—she had plenty of those already. A solid look tended to cost you your life, or a heavy fee.
She’d seen the bouncer at the door before, on similar information runs. He wasn’t an ordinary bouncer—not like the ones in the club, who were there to swat Los Angeles rich boys when they misbehaved with a dancer. He was impressive, a whole suite of things that didn’t go together; lanky, but strong; broad, but not bulky. Frankly, looking at him hurt.
“I’m here to see Nero. It’s okay,” she added, “he knows I’m coming. You can throw me out if I’m lying. I know you like to do that.”
He sized her up with a sneering gaze, but he also seemed to recognize her. He opened the door and nodded at her to go inside. A small part of Devica, that had been seizing up with nerves about this part of the evening, relaxed—the rest continued to tense. Her game of chess still awaited.
The office was round, the walls painted blood red and illuminated with fancy glass-blown lights that looked Italian in origin. The floor was tiled black and shined like the ocean under moonlight. And in the center of the ocean was Nero’s massive oak desk, carved with strange symbols and shapes—twisting, gleaming, somehow sinister.
It paled in comparison to Nero himself, sitting behind the desk with the biggest grin she’d ever seen on the man. Or whatever he was. Sometimes Devica doubted. Nero had white-blond hair and always wore decadent black suits and ties, his fancy shoes as polished as mirrors. He looked like a snake oil salesman who had moved onto more dangerous cocktails, his nose short and his eyes deceptively flat.
Two more bouncers, as strangely impressive as the one outside the door, flanked his desk. And in front of the desk, a singular chair. Devica swallowed a sigh; someone had tipped him off to her arrival.
“What’s that look for? I’m always so very happy to see you, Miss Baines,” Nero crowed, gesturing loosely to the chair. “Please, sit. Our visits are always so—productive.”
Devica did, arranging her dress to buy her a little more time. She wasn’t a naturally social person, and yet the world always demanded it out of her. “Nero. Do you know why I’m here?”
“I’m sure I don’t know. Honest.”
“…Take a guess.”
“There’s a nasty little man you don’t know the name of,” Nero chuckled. “Am I right?”
“He’s not exactly a man anymore. He’s—sort of a—thing. But yes, you’re right.”
Nero placed a hand on his chest, feigning indignation. “Is that the only reason you came to visit? I’m wounded. I thought we’d perhaps gotten on the same page, during your last visit.”
Devica raised a delicate eyebrow. “My last visit cost me nearly a million dollars. So, yes, I admit it, I’ve been seeking other avenues of information. But tonight I’ve come to you.”
“Do you expect me to be grateful?”
“I know you, somewhat,” she sighed, “I’m not that dim.”
He chuckled, baring his teeth in a mirthful grin. His teeth looked too sharp, somehow, but she couldn’t figure out why. “Yes, my gratefulness is rare. But it does exist. And I’m pleased you’ve come to me. Do you have a photo of this… creature?”
Devica pulled the photo out of her purse, dusting it briefly of crumbs before handing it over to a still-amused Nero.
“Hmm. Hmmmmm. Very interesting.”
“Do you know who it is?” Devica inquired dryly. “Or are you trying to drive me insane?”
“I have much more effective methods of inspiring madness, my dear Miss Baines,” Nero scoffed. “Yes, I know this particular individual. I’d be willing to part with the information, too… for a price.”
“Name it.”
“I want you to go out into my club and have fun.”
Devica blinked. “I’m sorry?”
Standing up, Nero paced around the desk in a circle, his smile back to being something both madcap and macabre. “You heard me, my dear. I’ve been keeping a concerned eye on you, and you haven’t been out to have fun in months. That’s not like you at all. So come on. Promise me you’ll drink and have a good time.”
Eyeing him suspiciously, Devica tried hard to think about her last night of clubbing. It had been a while ago. But he’d been keeping track? Why was he keeping such close tabs on her? She knew he had eyes and ears everywhere, it was just something you almost took for granted in this day and age. But… why her?
“All right,” she agreed slowly, regretting it the moment she said it.
Nero beamed. “Fantastic. Here’s the file.” He pulled a manila envelope out of a desk drawer and handed it to her. Small warning sounds went off in her head.
“Thank you.” Devica stood up, trying to think of the exact moment she’d lost control of the situation. “I’ll just give someone a call and go… have fun, as you put it.”
“Goodbye, my dear.”
(Source: velvetdemon.net)
“Is that really what you’re going to tell me? A thing with a lot of eyes and legs and hair is following you around? That’s how you’re choosing to begin this conversation at three in the morning?”
“It was the first thing that popped into my“—pant, pant—”head, Devica, yeah. Can you help me or not?”
Devica Baines, her eyes patchy from not sleeping in three days, wiped at the screen in front of her with a soft cloth, wincing at the layer of dust. I really should clean more often. “All right. I’ll help. What do you need, exactly? I’m not in the assault business, Mr. Broderick. Some of my best friends look like things that would make your brain melt.”
“I need to know why it’s following me. If I send you a picture, can you get back to me?”
“Probably?” She would have shrugged, if it were a face-to-face conversation. The line was starting to get rather noisy. Was he fleeing underground? That was never a good idea. “Send it over. I’ll see what I can do.”
“You’re a life-saver, Devica.”
Snorting, the hacker hung up her work line, pulling out several dusty tomes from a nearby shelf—tomes that might end up becoming useful, if his picture amounted to anything. Her room, always bathed in permanent darkness, had seen better days, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually vacuumed.
You’d think the founder of a technological firm would be comfortable to hire a maid. But no. I had to get involved in THESE circles, she thought, pulling up a few internet windows. Money was never really the problem—it was the thought of certain people gaining access to her personal library. Certain people who might frown on her brand of diverse company.
Finally, the line buzzed, and she pulled the data up on her computer. It was a blurry photo, something taken from a second level above the subject. But it was enough to confirm that it wasn’t a uniform member of a certain genus. It looked different, and that meant either new or…
But, no… surely not one of them…
“If he’s being followed by a Changeling, well, good luck to him,” Devica muttered aloud, unconsciously. She let her imaging programs straighten the photo out a little and then opened a few more browser windows—perhaps someone in her circle knew, or knew of, this particular strange creature. But she’d keep it close to her chest for now. No need to stumble into a hornet’s nest unawares.
Clicking a few keys, she opened up the line and called Peter Broderick again.
“Mr. Broderick? I got your photo. I’m going to show it to a few friends, see if anyone recognizes your buddy. What has it been doing, exactly? Has it been violent?”
“It charged after me like a lunatic the first time I saw it. Now it’s just skulking behind me, like it’s waiting for me to get tired.” His voice broke. Devica winced; if it was trying to wear Broderick down, it was succeeding. “Don’t take too long, okay, Devica? I’ll pay you anything.”
“Don’t worry,” she soothed him, “we’ll fix this. Just keep calm and keep moving. I’ll call soon, when I have something for you.”
Hanging up, Devica cursed in at least two languages before getting up and grabbing her coat. There was no time for the slower channels. She needed answers now.
(Source: velvetdemon.net)
