Thursday, June 15, 2017

Stuck in the Closet

Denver
POP.
That was the sound that came first. It was the end of the day and most people were going home, save for the regulars who were farting around the courthouse at the end of the day. People with late times on their trials and people who had nothing better to do than file their paperwork at the last possible moment or bang the legal clerk who also didn't have anything better to do on a Thursday at the courthouse. (Because why not- it's called networking, thank you very much.) Or sit in on cases because a voice told you to.

But there was the problem of that pop. The problem of that hard, harsh sound followed by the shattering of light bulbs and rattling of windows and a feeling that felt like something grabbing onto your lungs and squeezing too hard, like you're internal organs are a goddamned stress ball. Then? Release, sudden release when all the air came out. The walls shook.

"COME AND TAKE ME," from the next courtroom over, room 7b. Criminal cases could be fun, couldn't they?

Andrés
If asked whether inquests or being called as an expert witness in the afternoon was a bigger pain in the ass, Andrés would not be able to choose between the two. On the one hand, inquests were typically brief affairs but having to stop what he was doing to go to the courthouse and hope the family didn't want to ask him any questions led to an element of unpredictability he found unsavory.
Questioning, like the reason he was here today, tended to be more straightforward. But in this particular case, the defense called him in around two o'clock and kept him up there long enough for the jury to start nodding off and the prosecution wanted to use him as an opportunity to tear a hole in the defense's argument and ay, ay, ay. By the time the cross examinations were over the judge was calling a recess for the day and that is why he's still here this afternoon.

He was on his way back downstairs when that change in pressure - or whatever the hell it was - caused a rain of glass and a booming and a squeezing. As he rested a hand on the wall to steady himself, the damned thing shook.

Then that voice.

Now, Andrés sighs a beleaguered sigh and debates the merits of investigating versus just getting the hell out of there.

William
He didn't care about the case. Didn't care about the damned ghost or the fleeing mortals or any of this, all he really cared about at that juncture was getting smooth the fuck out of that court room and as far away as possible because William knew Damned Good And Well that this kind of display attracted the wrong sort of attention as soon as people knew what it was.

That pop could have been written off as a number of things. The shaking? Easily could have been a bomb and written off as some terrorist attack instead of what was actually happening and William? Darling creature, gave precisely zero fucks about any of these things and, instead, chose to be concerned with the fact that he didn't want to be in the room when the backlash hit from whatever it was that guy was doing.

"Jeezus fucking christ god damn it fucking ghosts I hate-" oh,  look, passing Andrés- "go go go-"

Denver
POP.
The lights flickered. Bulbs shattered. Reality growled in displeasure, but was content to doll out enough rope to let one hang themselves with.

Andrés
[perc + aware: what in the actual fuck]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (3, 6, 7, 8, 9) ( success x 4 )

Denver
Resentful. AS though that resentment, that hatred could permeate even the fabric of someone's vital being. That was magick- more than that. This was the type of magick that had been done in advance, held together and prepared for months and ready to be unleashed on an unsuspecting world. There was nothing that could be done about it, no countering with careful manipulations and applications of rationale and scientific ingenuity.

But beyond that, the feeling in the air spoke of a man who could build a damned atom bomb if only to spite an ex-lover. Who would build something volatile and unstable, like a mixture superheated and left on a bunsen burner too damned long when you knew good and well it only needed to be set to a simmer. Volatile. With all the unpredictability that came with it.

This? Was a forced hard reboot of every consciousness within a radius that wasn't sufficiently warded. The tiny (somewhat literal) explosions, the electric feeling, the haywire lighting and glass breaking? That was a secondary effect that came when our practitioner threw a temper tantrum that not everyone was sufficiently impacted by their Work.

Andrés
A moral imperative is no good if the body gets itself killed because the mind has no sense of its own boundaries. And Andrés, for having an ember still glowing in that charred, fist-sized muscle most people call a heart, does not often subscribe to the concept of a moral imperative. Only when will not cause any further harm.

It helps that compared to last year, he has a sense of self-preservation. Passive suicidality is so 2016.
Once it registers that this is not a man-made calamity but the result of some Awakened son of a bitch getting obliterated by paradox, he has to prompt his legs to run. Not towards the problem, but away from.

Then here comes that boy Margot is so fond of. At least he thinks it is. All those tall blue-eyed white boys start to look the same after a while.

"I'M GOING I'M GOING."

And off they go.

William
There were a grand total of five places William knew how to get to when he went to the court house. One was a bathroom (too much glass), two court rooms (one of which was currently being obliterated by a dude mid backlash), a stairwell (other side of the building) and-

"HA!"

Janitor's closet.

he reached for the door knob and skid a little once he did. William had been actively attempting to be less of a complete idiot when it came to doing anything physical, but he still wasn't graceful by any means. Grabbing a doorknob while running opened the door, sure, but it also almost knocked him on his ass.

Andrés
"ARE YOU--"

The Etherite doesn't bother finishing his sentence, just grabs the doorknob while the Hermetic is recovering and puts a hand between his shoulder blades and shoves him into the closet. This isn't the spot he would have chosen to hide while waiting for ground zero to return to safe levels of paradox, but he's not going to bank on his ability to make it to the stairwell before the shockwave overtakes him.

Slamming the door shut behind him, Andrés throws down his briefcase, cracks it open, and removes a clunky PDA-looking device into which he immediately begins punching commands. Without turning on the light. The screen glows green, how much light could a guy want?

[forces/prime 2: FORCEFIELD TIME. base diff 6, -1 for practiced rote. everything else comes out in the wash.]
Dice: 3 d10 TN5 (1, 3, 6) ( success x 2 ) [WP]

William
He didn't even notice the shove, all that happened in William's mind is that one minute he's standing outside and the next minute the door is shut and he's standing inside. William reached for the door knob and had the good sense to actually lock the damned thing.

He's had experience with this particular closet and knows that, yes, you can lock it from the inside. It didn't do very much good because a sufficiently angry person (or HIT mark, or ghost, or sentient toaster) could probably kick it down after awhile.

"Right-"

Sufficiently angry ghost could knock that down. He didn't know what kind of spirits were there but he Did Not Want to Deal With That. So, he went along his merry way to find sidewalk chalk and was content to half talk to himself (Command the universe, thank you) and try and get things going
[Spirit 1: ward the FUCK OUT OF THIS CLOSET]
Dice: 3 d10 TN4 (7, 7, 9) ( success x 4 ) [WP]

Andrés
Great. He's stuck in a closet with a crazy person. Margot sure knows how to pick them.
With a sigh that shouldn't be able to inhabit a person of his size, Andrés plops down on the floor cross-legged and ignores whatever the kid is doing with the chalk. He doesn't particularly want to experience another person's backlash. If he's going to do something that results in his getting kicked in the nuts so hard he's flossing with Reality's shoelaces for the rest of the week, he likes to at least plan a head a little.

[EXTENDING. -1 for dropped Quint this time.]
Dice: 3 d10 TN5 (6, 7, 8) ( success x 4 ) [WP]

Denver
(Aaaaaaand damage, -10 for distance, -5 for successes. Rolling up on bashing because also distance)
Dice: 15 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 4, 6, 6, 7, 7, 7, 8, 9, 10) ( success x 9 ) [Doubling Tens]
William
[Oww, soak? +5]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 4, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 5 )
Andrés
[ o_o SOAK +5 bc of that sick forcefield rote]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 5, 5, 7, 7, 8, 8) ( success x 4 )

Denver
What does it feel like when reality is throwing a temper tantrum.

The closet shakes, because everything shakes. The news would callt his event a bomb exploding, as far as anyone knew. Reality was more forgiving for the unawakened, but for this? An example needed to be made. A message given to every living and aware source of will that this would not be accepted. That such grand scale flagrant disregard for the rules of society would be delt with immediately.
It's the first hit that makes it the worst. The first hit that sends cleaning products off the shelf and makesbrooms fall. The light bulb shatters, but luckily it hadn't been on so all it does is rain down glass.

Then? There was screaming. It had started as a sound that was human but morphed into something more, something glass-ridden and corrupted. There was a sound, and that sound came again but was no longer human. Could no longer be called human.

Reality had to set an example, and let the Avatar of this offender know that its ministrations would not be tolerated.

So, darlings, suffer.

Andrés
Although the forcefield manages to absorb a good half of the energy blasting through the concrete walls and the wooden door, Andrés is still knocked onto his ass - literally - by the shockwave that does manage to permeate their little shelter. He feels as if he took a soccer ball to the face, and though he's seeing stars, he's got a small amount of sense to anticipate that that isn't the last of the backlash. So he stays his ass where he landed and allows himself to feel a moment's gratitude that he didn't vomit. Yet.

William
William has, in recent memory, actually had his ass handed to him a couple times. Once was at a bar in New Mexico over something he couldn't actually remember at this particular juncture and another was from a Flambeau who didn't like to be told how incredibly, irrevocably wrong he was. What kept him moving at those moments was being able to keep quiet and take it. Before that it usually came over parties or when backed into a corner that he couldn't charm his way out of.

This? Was a first. There was no charming reality. It didn't give a fuck how clever your words may be. Reality hits hard, and it was enough to make the taller young man double over and cough like he was a freshman taking his first hit of weed. It was not a good cough by any means, and his hand went to his mouth quickly to try and keep the sound down.

He looked up once the hacking fit stopped.

"Are you Doctor Sepúlveda?"

Andrés
"Yep."
That could have been the end of it, but William has the honor of sharing space with someone who has already overexerted the muscle responsible for keeping him from saying something inappropriate into a microphone in front of fifty other people.

"Are you the one who wants to bang my student, or are you the one who keeps getting her into trouble?"

William
"Why not both?"

Andrés
Slow, concussed breathing as he absorbs this information.

"Thank you for reminding me to clean my shotgun."

He has about a dozen other ways to inflict pain and/or sterility upon the young man, but he doesn't need to show his cards right away.

William
"I've developed a full disclosure policy on stupidity, rest assured-" yep, there's coughing again. He took a look at his hand and made a face when he realized he was hacking up a bit of blood, "-Margot is a fully consenting and aware party in my stupidity."

He looks at the door. Can't really say he didn't make a dumb decision before, he's at a fucking courthouse where a guy is having a massive paradox backlash. He could have told that ghost to fuck off and continued eating cereal and ignoring it.

"She thinks you're cool."

Andrés
As the Hermetic whose name Andrés has not only forgotten but shown no interest in recollecting rambles on in an what appears to be an attempt at reassuring the older Awakened that Margot has consented to the past stupidity and knows what she's getting into, Andrés flicks his eyebrows and picks up his device again.

Tapping out instructions means he can't say something awful. It might be mean, but the split attention takes some of the sting off.

"That's great, kid."
[entropy/prime 1 & time 2: what are the odds there's going to be another shitshow rolling through?]
Dice: 3 d10 TN5 (1, 4, 10) ( success x 1 )

Andrés
[come on, buddy. +1 for extending.]
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 9) ( success x 1 )
Denver
Maybe in a couple more minutes?
Andrés
[... god?]

William
"There's a really fucking pissed off wraith outside on top of this, so... yeah, just a heads up. You got a way to keep from being a meat suit?" Do you need one?

Andrés
Andrés sets down the device and scrubs his face with his hands, muttering, "Madre de dios este día va a terminar nunca..." Deep breath. Hands down. "Do you?"

William
The sound he made was something that was between stifling a laugh and hacking up phlegm. He also was making his happy way through his bag to find a pack of what were probably cigarettes. Or not. He dug one out anyway, "Breathe deep and think about how it's all bullshit anyway."

Andrés
"You talk that way around--" He has to stop himself from saying something else that starts with an 'm'. "--Margot?"

William
[Aaaaand damage. -5 because shield and -10 distance and -5 time]
Dice: 10 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 6, 6, 6, 10) ( success x 5 ) [Doubling Tens]
William
[Jesus fuck COME ON]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 4, 4, 6, 6, 10, 10) ( success x 4 )
Andrés
[you gotta be fucking kidding me with this shit]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6, 8) ( success x 3 )

And, at about that time, the world went dark and the good doctor got dragged around the courthouse whilst unconscious.

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