V M Chasing Ghosts

Anders Nazret

Arcadian Swordmage
Level 4
Joined
Jul 14, 2021
Messages
69
Awards
1
Essence
€11,565
Coin
₡8,057
Tokens
5
World
Erde Nona
Profile
Click Here
Faction
Heralds of the True Heir
Detective Mickey sat with his feet kicked up and a cigarette smoldering in his lips. Light filtered into his office through a set of blinds, casting a pensive pattern across his body. The trope wasn’t lost on him, he was well aware that from the outside looking in he’d appear to be one of those hard boiled pulp fiction detectives. Yes, his favorite drink was a whiskey sour. Yes, he wore a trench coat. And, yes, he smoked unfiltered cigarettes. But, he hadn't had a drink in over three years, trench coats were simply practical, and as far as the cigarettes? He wore the patch and was well on his way to quitting. So Detective Mickey sat in the moody evening sunlight, satisfied with the knowledge that the only “dame” that’d be walking into his office was the chief - and the chief was anything but a looker.

Now the chief, he was one of those real straight shooting no nonsense types. He was all business, except for one weakness - wacky tie Friday. The doorway cracked open and Chief Whitesel stepped in with a folder at his side. He was built like a Mack truck. His uniform was clean, the creases pressed, and the only non standard piece of attire was a black tie embroidered with cute little puppy dogs. Without a word of greeting he walked over and set the folder on Mickey’s desk. Mickey smiled.

“What do we got this time, Chief?” Mickey asked as he grabbed the folder, “Another poltergeist? Demonic incursion? Unlicensed necromancy?”

“Potential terrorism, Mick,” The chief said, stepping over to the blinds and pulling them open.

Mickey winced at the harsh light, and shot the chief a dirty look. He stubbed the last half of his cigarette and opened the folder, taking a quick read of the contents.

Heralds of the True Heir eh?” Mickey said, “Whaddya suppose they mean by that?”

“That’s part of what we want to find out,” Chief Whitesel said, “Most likely delusions of a deranged and dangerous mind… But, regardless, these delusions seem to have amassed a small following, including a mass murderer with a 3000 coin bounty on her head.”

“You mean the Butcher of Hope?” Mickey asked, glancing up towards the chief.

“I wish they’d stop giving maniacs such sensational names, but yes, the Butcher of Hope,” He answered with a sigh, “Along with a person of interest known as Dr. Caustic, and an unidentified third party who seems to share Mr. Nazret’s delusions.”

“Right, mhmm, gotcha,” Detective Mickey said, making a show of nodding.

Silence filled the air followed by the dying gasps of Mick’s cigarette. The chief stood at parade rest, staring out the window onto the streets of Arcadia below.

“You’re normally excited about new assignments, Mick,” He said, “Something wrong?”

Mickey rubbed the back of his neck, “It’s not that I’m not appreciative, Chief, just, well my last assignment was some punk kids throwing firecrackers and some half-blind bat mistook it for weapons-grade evocation magic, and the one before that had me sifting through Chocobo shit to find evidence of illegal transmogrification, which ended up being nothing but a false flag. All I’m saying is, with our recent track record, this is just gonna end up being some troll in their momma’s basement getting too invested into online roleplaying or something stupid like that. When are you gonna throw me another good assignment? I overheard Mallory talking about an epidemic of--”

“Detective Mickey,” The chief cut him off with a sharp tone, “In my department I assign the assignments, whatever case Mallory is working on is my business, not yours. Now I don’t care if this ends up being a damned squirrel given sentience along with an intense and passionate hatred of the crown, you’re going to approach it with nothing less than a smile and a ‘can-do’ attitude… Am I clear?”

“You’re always clear Chief,” Mickey answered.

“Good, besides, you’ll have some company for this one,” Chief Whitesel said, making his way towards the door, “Detective Maldera put in a formal request to pursue the Dr. Caustic lead, and now that the good doctor has seemingly allied himself with our Herald you two have some common ground.”

At this Mickey perked up. He’d worked with Detective Maldera before. The man was a fucking force of nature and Mick respected the hell out of the guy. Even if the assignment turned out to be a shitshow he couldn’t pass on a chance to work with the department’s equivalent of a rockstar. Though, Maldera wasn’t part of the paranormal division, which raised the question…

“Chief, one last question,” Mickey said, “And I’m asking sincerely, but why was I assigned to this, I mean, unless Dr. Caustic is some kind of warlock doctor or something. This whole thing doesn’t seem to have any occult elements.”

Again the chief sighed, “Please read the entire brief before asking questions Mickey, it makes you look like an ass. Anders Nazret’s name didn’t pop up any flags in our database, except for a bounty bulletin posted by an unknown person. Apparently, Mr. Nazret attacked a promising young sorceress and somehow stripped her of arcane potential, now I’m not well versed in thaumaturgy, but that seems like something directly in your wheelhouse.”

Without waiting for a response the chief left. Detective Mickey sighed and leafed through the brief again. None of this seemed very exciting, save for that last bit of information. Stripping someone of their magic potential, now that was an interesting prospect. Obviously not for the victim, but in his seventeen years of service he had never heard of anything like that. And beyond that, what was Maldera’s interest in this doctor character? Mickey threw on his trenchcoat and put the folder in his briefcase. He figured asking Maldera directly would probably be the best bet. Mickey made his way to Maldera’s office, but was stopped by his secretary. Wait… he had a secretary? Mickey knew this guy was hot shit, but when did he get a secretary?

The young lady offered him a smile and said, “Detective Maldera is out for the evening, if you want I can take a message.”

“Ah, no, that’s quite alright, I wouldn’t know what to say,” There was a moment of awkwardness before he continued, “Anyways, I’m Detective Mickey, I was assigned to work this Heralds case with Detective Maldera. You wouldn’t have a way for me to get a hold of him outside of work hours, would you?”

“Ah, he’s asked me not to give out his personal information unless it was an emergency,” She said.

“Right, right, fair enough, I just wanted to have a little chat with him and sync our watches up, so to speak, the last case we worked on we went and got coffee together every morning at 7am sharp,” Mickey lied, they had never once went for coffee, but he didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to get this investigation rolling.

The secretary tapped her well-manicured fingers against the desk before huffing and saying, “Alright, he’s probably at the boxing gym down the road right now, it’s not my fault if you happen to walk by and see him through the window.”

Mickey smiled and said, “I like the way you think, thanks for the tip.”
 

Mad Maggie

Kia Maia, Kia Manawanui!
Level 2
Joined
Jul 4, 2020
Messages
80
Essence
€5,044
Coin
₡1,500
Tokens
15
World
Opealon
Profile
Click Here
Round Twelve was tucked into one of the dingier streets in downtown Arcadia, but it had a reputation among those in the know. Champs trained here, and Victor "Knuckle" Maldera was the one who'd bought the old building and made it a functioning business again. The guy had come to the Crossroads a while back, and joined the force almost immediately. Then, as if policing the largest city in Arcadia wasn't enough, he'd started making a name for himself in the sanctioned boxing circuit.

Detective Mickey remembered the day after Maldera had knocked out Gloro "Ballista" Bolt, the reigning champ of the Arcadia Associated Boxing League. He'd walked past Chief Whitesel's office with a shiner the size of a plum bulging from his face, and a slab of steak pressed to his cheek. The Chief's response had been to demand that Maldera bring enough for the rest of the shift, and by lunch time there was an impromptu barbecue. Contrasting that, Mickey had also seen the detective break a hostage taker's jaw with a punch too fast to be seen without really paying attention. And inside past the glass, he was busy training that arm. A speedbag slammed against itself again and again, sweat beading on Victor's head as he stared intensely at the bag. "Nox. Nox. Nox. Nox." Each word was punctuated by another rapid, forceful punch until the leather seam split and foam rubber flew out in macerated chunks.

"Good thing you're getting out that aggression now, Pal." Detective Mickey stubbed out his cigar on the ashtray next to the open door frame. "I bet you got that silly old briefing, huh?" Maldera turned and wiped the sweat from his smooth forehead, starting to unwrap the tape from his fists and motioning for Mickey to join him. "Detective Mouse." If he was annoyed at being disturbed past working hours, it didn't show in his voice. He ducked inside a locker room and emerged a few moments later wearing his casual clothing and carrying a folder fill of paperwork.

"I haven't heard much about this Nazret character, but Caustic..." Maldera stared intently at his chili dog, while at the standing table across from him Mickey slurped down the dregs of a soda, finishing the tail end of a burger and licking the ketchup from his fingers. "It was from before I got to the Crossroads, before I got my second chance." He rummaged in his folder and slid two photos over to Mickey, the umbrella above the table protecting the documents from the light rain. "The Humbert Labs Arson. Fire crews got a report that the chemical lab was burning. Considering that they worked on high potency pesticides for the Frontier's agricultural crops...I mean, they were needed. Some of those worlds had bugs the size of dogs." He sighs and shook his head. "By the time they got there everyone was dead. All they found of Dr. Nox was two fingers, but somehow I felt there was more to it. He set the fire, killed his coworkers, and faked his death. They wouldn't let me dig into it, and I had an impromptu spar with my lieutenant. In the break room. They let me go after that."

Mickey took the moment to look down at the photos. The one on the left was ancient, faded and torn by the edges, but the sharp eyed inspector could still discern the subject. It was a personnel photo, a bearded man wearing safety googles and a white lab coat staring back at him with a passive stare on his face. Like he was looking at a sample that interested him but was by no means critical. It sent a shiver down the mouse's spine as he looked to the second photo, and felt a sour anger rise inside his chest. The same man looked to the right in the newer photo, goggles, respirator, and a much more elaborate and layered getup. He was older too, thick lines and sallow skin marking the passage of time. The angle was bad and the lighting was overexposing the whole shot, but it was still the same guy. "What a creep." Mickey muttered, imagining that the man's extra years past his suppised death could have only been filled with death and innocent suffering.

Victor Maldera laid the file folder down too, and finally took a bite of his cheap and greasy dinner, undoing at least twenty minutes of the last two hours. "God only knows what that sick bastard has done. What he's doing now. What he's going to do with these crackpot extremists." Mickey found himself remembering the casual way he'd tried to duck out of this...what may turn out to be the most important case in recent history.

~~~~~~~~~

*Music*

One of the mercenaries who'd cleared my new ship for final takeoff apparently thought he was clever, and had programmed the shipwide broadcast system to play a song as I engaged the landing sequence for the first time. I'd piloted the shuttle through the black void of the Beyond, the navcomputer making it trivial to finally leave the overgrown jungle of Kraw behind. To tell the truth, I was looking forward to civilization. Since I'd come to the Crossroads, I'd been in the 'quaint' city of Karim, the muddy hole that they called New Abraxes, and a small collection of temporary camps and settlements that could only barely be called towns. Arcadia was a metropolitan powerhouse situated on a planet of inhabited wilds. Perhaps not as immediately lethal as Kraw, but exactly the type of environment I would use to it's fullest potential.

People went missing all the time in such places, and if i was to truly perfect my formulas here in preparation for this ...intriguing crusade, I would need a steady supply of test subjects.

A landing indicator beeped and I swung the shuttle in low, spotting a small camp of tents and a fire. Much like the ones I'd spent the last few weeks in. I flipped on the external announcement system, only to realize that the music was also broadcasting as the song finishes during my final approach.

The ship lands in a grassy field next to the campsite, and I step out of the deployment hatch, my frame backlit by the glowing interior of my brand new research vessel. "Gentlemen. Welcome aboard the Tonegawa. I am Dr Caustic, and this will be our best bet for a mobile forward operating base while we plan out campaign." I almost forget to endear myself to the wild-eyed looking male who must be Anders. "For the True Heir, Arcadia will fall."
 

Aquarius

The Calamitous Constellation
Level 2
Joined
Nov 4, 2021
Messages
45
Essence
€4,710
Coin
₡9,500
Tokens
0
World
Erde Nona
Profile
Click Here
An arrival best suited for a king. Aquarius hoped that was far from the intent of the man. Such a boisterous and flashy presentation was anything but practical. The behemoth he dubbed ‘Tanegawa’ was a magnificent specimen nonetheless. A ship of this magnitude presented many possibilities and benefits. None of them being subtlety. Subtlety would be a moot point in the circumstances surrounding a heist.

Arcadia would hear their name. Soon it would be engraved in this hedonistic tomb of a kingdom.

Aquarius felt a pinch of gatekeeping irritation at hearing this man speak ‘For the True Heir’. He should revel in his desire to join us and yet Anders has been the only one so far to know Arcadia as he had. Whatever the ends of this mans means were, they did not align with him. Aquarius would keep him under watchful eye.

“Caustic, is it?” The machine spoke, reverberation of his harrowing and staticky voice tickling his wiring. “This is an immaculate piece of transportation. I am impressed by your skills of acquisition.“ Regardless of the automaton’s grievances, a rapport would be necessary to ensure this went smoothly.

Caustic smiled from behind his mask, a nod being thrown Aquarius’ way.
“Your words are kind…” The scientist cocked his head slightly. “I do apologize but I don’t believe I’ve caught your name?”

”Aquarius.”
The machine responded promptly. Caustic clapped his hands together and half bowed.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Anders had been patient enough while waiting for the pleasantries to end. His time waiting for retribution had been long enough. They could talk on the way.

”Let us make haste. The longer we dawdle the more Arcadia suffers.” The man spoke with a stoic sternness.

Anders stepped forward towards the ship, and Aquarius followed. Caustic leading the way to the entrance of the mountainous ship.

———
”I’m gonna hazard a guess that talking them down is out of the question.” Mickey mused while he mulled over the file. He didn’t like any of what he was seeing. When the chief had said terrorism he didn’t put together just how serious that was. Rather than some lunatic kids with photoshop and too much time spent on 4CHAN these were genuine lunatics with a ludicrous amount of firepower.

Caustic alone was now proven to be much more than just a blip on a radar. He could cover that radar in poison and take out a seaboard.

“Yeah, push that concept outta your head.” Maldera responded in kind. “Detox unit, bomb squad, hell, armed forces might even be necessary. If it isn’t bad enough that he’s back around, remember we don’t know much about Anders or who the extra party even is.” He ruined what remained of his meal and slid his plastic tray forward while simultaneously wiping his mouth with his hand.

“Take into consideration, Mickey, Caustic wouldn’t align with people just because they saw his vision. He’d need competent and ruthless individuals with their own skill sets. This is going to be a problem.”

Mickey rubbed his mouth aimlessly while processing what the next steps could be. So many unknown factors but if they sat still and waited for something to happen untold amounts of devastation could occur. A radical amount of life could be lost. The detective unveiled money from his pocket and threw way more than was necessary onto the table before standing up and cleaning his mouth and hands with his napkin.

“Then we should get a move on. The longer we dawdle the more Arcadia could suffer.”
 

Anders Nazret

Arcadian Swordmage
Level 4
Joined
Jul 14, 2021
Messages
69
Awards
1
Essence
€11,565
Coin
₡8,057
Tokens
5
World
Erde Nona
Profile
Click Here
Faction
Heralds of the True Heir
Anders examined the inside of the Tanegawa as if it were some diluvian beast. Since his reawakening he had yet to truly taste modern technology. It tasted bitter, but not entirely unpleasant. Sharp angles and sterile surfaces came together to form Caustic’s vessel. Specialized equipment was organized into every nook and cranny, filling up every last scrap of space without sacrificing the creature comforts. A small (and surprisingly well-stocked) kitchen was nestled across from an intimate dining area. Anders ran a finger across a cold surface, grimacing as he failed to detect even the faintest impression of magic. He remembered the vessels from Arcadia’s golden age - impossibly complex fusions of both physical material and ethereal thaumaturgy. To think that this lifeless shell of metal was now the norm. Repulsing.

However, perhaps it was a blessing in disguise. True practitioners of magic had long since vanished from this world, and Dr. Caustic held no delusions of grandeur when it came to the arcane. He was a man of science, and a seemingly competent one at that. Anders respected true conviction to one’s craft, and the man’s dedication seemed unwavering. He would surely make a powerful ally. Then there was Aquarius. Anders regarded the automaton with a reverence fit for the divine. He was a beautiful representation of old Arcadia’s wisdom - sleek, deadly, and immaculately designed. Even more than that Aquarius knew of Eulalia, the True Heir. This filled Anders with hope. One person was an anomaly, but two? Two was the beginning of a trend. Perhaps there were more than just Anders and Aquarius who knew what evil had transpired centuries ago?

“If you two would kindly join me,” Caustic said, ushering them into the bridge of the ship, “I’ve taken the liberty of performing some research on our current target.”

A large flat table with a holographic display of some structures sat humming quietly in the center of the room. Caustic stood at the head of the table and began to manipulate the projection. Anders watched silently as the man isolated a singled structure from the crowd of its brethren and expanded it until it was the only thing on the table.

“This is the 7th Tyree National Bank of Arcadia,” Caustic began to explain, “Situated in Arcadia’s western-most suburb. According to our mutual benefactor, Ridley, this bank is often used by nobility to launder money.”

He expanded the projection further, opening up the lobby which was stitched together from publicly available photographs. Dark sections in the holograph denoted areas where no available information could be found. Beside it Caustic pulled up a wireframe blueprint of the building. Ostensibly it was a three-story building, however the blueprint revealed an expansive underground labyrinth no doubt terminating into a secured vaultroom. The blueprint, however, was dated several decades ago and only showed a two-story building. Naturally, this meant that some extensive renovations had occurred at some point in its lifespan.

“Primarily we are here to reappropriate funds from the corrupt nobility of Arcadia,” Caustic continued, “Naturally we need access to the vault, I can synthesize a solvent strong enough to eat through any physical barrier, but I doubt our opposition will rely entirely on mundane defenses.”

“You mean magic,” Anders stated plainly, “I am not intimidated by whatever poor excuse for safeguards these cretins can conjure, whatever spellcraft they use… I can break it.”

Aquarius nodded, “And I will dispose of any active combatants.”

Caustic swiped away the hologram and pulled up a new image. This one was of a cylindrical device mounted upon a tripod. A series of receivers and transmitters lined its smooth body, each of them with various design notes and specifications attached to them. Anders furrowed his brow. There was very little here he actually understood.

Caustic spoke, “This piece of hardware was supplied by our benefactor, it is capable of wirelessly accessing and downloading the bank’s database. However, it takes approximately an hour to perform its task. This will be the most strenuous part of our operation, as the local law enforcement will have most likely been mobilized before the cyber-worm is complete.”

Aquarius answered, “Then we shall cut them down as they arrive and wait in leisure as the machine performs its work.”

Anders added, “Indeed, with our capabilities and their lack of preparation this will be a simple-”

“Hubris will be our downfall,” Caustic interrupted, adopting a severe tone, “We cannot afford to take this lightly, our mission is far too important to allow even a small opening for failure to creep in. We will need to prepare appropriately.”

Anders exhaled slowly through his nose. Caustic was right. As much as he was loath to admit it, amateurs got lucky every now and again. All it would take is a lucky shot from some greenhorn officer to put an end to their crusade. And with their crusade still in its infancy any slight setback could have disastrous consequences.

“Well, what do you suggest?” Anders asked, “It isn’t as if we have a man on the inside.”

“No, we do not… but, we could always acquire one,” Caustic said, pulling up the bank’s staff page.
 

Mad Maggie

Kia Maia, Kia Manawanui!
Level 2
Joined
Jul 4, 2020
Messages
80
Essence
€5,044
Coin
₡1,500
Tokens
15
World
Opealon
Profile
Click Here
Doyle F. Dingle was, unfortunately, saddled as a child with the name of a bank manager, and so that is what he became. He went to work every day in the greatest city on Erde Nona, stood for the royal anthem, and had a passionate interest in pin collecting. Doyle always had a head for figures, and was keen on responsibility. It had taken him a very short time to become one of the Assistant Senior Vice Account Managers, and Mr. Dingle, as he was known professionally, was eventually given a permanent position at 7th Tyree National Bank. After all, the real owners of the bank needed a man like him, who stared at figures that didn't add up, shrugged, and accepted his quarterly bonus with an "Oh well!". He was a very normal person, so much so that when he received a message from the Arcadian Clearinghouse Sweepstakes telling him he had won an all expenses paid vacation, he hardly questioned it, believing it to be another 'reward' from the universe for his years of service.

He kept right on believing this, while he planned for his weeks of absence, made arrangements to have his work distributed, and took care of several things he was personally responsible for before leaving for home to pack. He finally had his first moment of doubt when the large, robotic looking individual dropped from the rooftops in front of him, unfurled to an imposing height, and struck him out cold with a contemptuous look.

"I have...retrieved the package." Aquarius stated into the communication band.

---------

"I really have to ask, Mr Dingle. Do you know your place of employment is a money laundering operation?"

The bank manager blinked open his eyes, feeling frozen and sore. His muscles were twitching, the sound of blood in his veins echoing like bubbles in concrete. He wasn’t quite sure where he was, only that he did not remember how he got there.

“I’m almost positive you do. After all, if I were storing my ill gotten gains somewhere, I would need a malleable individual such as yourself to watch them.”

Doyle opened his lips, trying to speak, but only managed a dry cough. Vision returned in blurry stages as a large shape loomed in front of him and brought something to his lips. Liquid, cool clear water dribbled down his throat and made his shudder and cough. Finally, he could manage a word. “Please, who are you? What do you want?”

It was only then, his eyesight returning, that he saw his forearms strapped to a chair, with an IV leading into one of his veins.

“I want information, Mr. Dingle.”

----------

A simple mixture of compounds on a drip feed into the hapless bank manager’s blood made him docile and pliant for the next hour, and I extracted a few valuable tidbits of information from him. Which guards were where, what the bank’s emergency protocol for a break in was, where the power and security systems were located.

I am by no means an expert in interrogation, but chemical aid makes it so much more elegant and refined than the brutal methods employed by others. I had no doubt that if I'd let the wild-eyed Anders handle the interrogation, we would soon be left with no information and a corpse. “Thank you very much. You’ve been of immense help.”

Dingle’s voice was flat and spacy as he asked the first question since we’d started. “What are you…going to do with me?” I took a step back and made sure the door was locked. “I’m not going to harm you. The others, however….” I return to the interrogation chair and kneel before my captive.

“Anders Nazret is an extremist, a royalist, and I have doubts about his mental stability. He would execute you on a list of inane charges, first of which being ‘serving the enemies of the true heir’ or something along those lines.”

“The mechanoid is similarly of that age. He would also execute you instantly, on Anders’s orders or because you annoyed him.” I reach up to take off my goggles and respirator, displaying my worn face. “I am a man. A man with his own goals, and right now those align with these idealistic dotards.” My eyes meet his. “Do you think what we’re bringing to your entire way of life is inconsequential? You will most likely not have a job to return to once we are finished.”

Replacing my gear, I turn to my chemicals and prepare the final solution to be injected. “Arcadia will fall, one way or the other. I may leave before that happens. We will see.” Lining up the needle, I add it to the IV going into the bank manager’s arm. “I am not going to kill you. Think of this as…an altered version of that vacation you won.”

--------

“We have our information, gentlemen.” I address Anders and Aquarius at our makeshift war table. “And as soon as the ship arrives at the coordinates I’ve selected, we will be free of our guest. Halfway across Erde Nona, in some backwater farming village? No one will find him before we complete our mission.”

The stony face of our erstwhile commander breaks from the thousand yard stare of remembrance he was wearing as he’d read through volumes of recent Arcadian history I’d provided him with, and he nods towards me. “Good. Good. Now we need to plan our approach and retreat….”
 

Anders Nazret

Arcadian Swordmage
Level 4
Joined
Jul 14, 2021
Messages
69
Awards
1
Essence
€11,565
Coin
₡8,057
Tokens
5
World
Erde Nona
Profile
Click Here
Faction
Heralds of the True Heir
Detective Mickey tapped the tip of his pencil against his notepad. He hadn’t actually taken any notes, but something about pretending to write things down made him seem more official. Behind him he could practically feel Maldera’s scowl permanently burning an imprint of itself on his skull. The man was intense. Across the table, Sera sat quietly. Her hair had once been dyed a fiery orange, but the dye had begun to fade her natural brunette roots peeked through. Nails chewed down to nothing she casually ashed her cigarette and stared pensively at the painted concrete wall.

“So, if I’m understanding this correctly, you can’t do any magic after running into this Anders guy?” Mickey asked.

She nodded slowly, “I had to drop out of university and everything, I can't even light a fucking smoke without a lighter."

And that was the rub. Sera was the top of her class, Mickey had studied her file thoroughly. Top of her class, proficient in multiple schools of magic, but specializing in evocation. A few weeks ago she was capable of slinging basketball-sized fireballs and now she couldn't even light a candle. Mickey continued to tap his pencil. Permanently removing someone's magic should be impossible, but there was living proof sitting in front of him.

Maldera stepped forward, “Where did this happen?”

She took another drag and shook her head, "What's all this about? I really don't wanna talk about this… can I go home now, please?"

"Innocent people are in danger," Maldera said harshly, "We need you to tell us what you know, so… where did this happen, and why were you and a known terrorist in the same place?”

“Victor relax,” Mickey said, pulling him back.

“I’ll relax when those monsters are behind bars,” He bucked him off and leaned on the table over Sera, “Now answer the question.”

She shrunk away from Maldera’s questioning. Seeing the aftermath of a crime was always the hardest part of the job for Mick. His skin had hardened, but his heart had only grown softer over the years. He remembered every last case. He remembered the kid that got turned inside-out for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He remembered the couple that accidentally fused themselves together via botched demonic summoning. While Sera hadn’t been physically harmed beyond a few bruises, anyone with a brain could see the depression that she wore like a coat. A life devoted to the pursuit of the arcane, ended because of some psychopath.

“Sera…” Mickey said, gently pulling Maldera back, “I know this is hard to talk about, but Detective Maldera is right. Your attacker isn’t working alone, and they’re far from done. Anything you can tell us, even if you don’t think it's important, could help keep others from going through what you suffered.”

Sera kept her head turned but glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. She took the final drag of her cigarette, smooshing the butt into an ashtray before sparking up another one.

She sighed, “I don’t know why I even fucking care anymore, they haven’t done shit to help me.”

“Go on…”

“I was hired to destroy a facility recently unearthed by archaeologists from the Interferon Institute,” Sera explained, “I shouldn’t even be talking to you about it, but fuck it, what do I have to lose?”

Maldera relaxed, “Please, continue.”

“In exchange for destroying the facility they offered me a complete scholarship at A.U.E. how could I say no?” She continued, “He showed up before I finished, ambushed me, and now I can’t do magic. End of story.”

“No, no, don’t stop there,” Maldera said, “Was he alone?”

With a sigh she kept speaking, “No, he had some scientist with him, I think he was one of the archeologists.”

Mickey shifted in his chair, “What about the other archeologists.”

At this she fell quiet for a few moments before continuing, “I was told to leave no witnesses.”

“You killed them?”

She shrugged, “I needed the scholarship, though, lot of fucking good that does me now.”

“Bunch of fuckin’ monsters,” Maldera muttered, stepping away.

Detective Mickey couldn’t say he didn’t agree with Maldera’s sentiment, but they still needed her to keep talking. He adjusted his chair, moving himself between her and his partner. He leaned in closer, a trick to seem more intimidating. Take up the frame of someone’s view, block their exit and most people naturally panicked.

“You realize that’s a very serious thing to admit to, right?” Mickey asked.

Sera rolled her eyes and reached into her purse, revealing a document. She pushed it over to Mickey and he read it slowly. He deflated, sinking back into his chair and surrendering his intimidating position. It was mostly a bunch of legalese, but the final passage caught his eye.

For the alleged deaths of Interferon personnel, Sera L. Macomber has been granted full clemency. -- The Crown of Arcadia

“What is this?” Mickey said, examining it closer.

“Who do you think hired me?”

“You expect me to believe this is real?”

Sera nodded, “Go ahead and check the arcane signature, it’s legitimate, a few of my colleagues were hired to destroy similar facilities around the world. We were all given a consequence free pass. For what it’s worth, I did try and get the archeologists to leave…”

Mick’s hand flashed purple and orange as arcane sigils danced between his fingertips. In response the document began to glow a light blue and he could feel the crown’s signature stamp of approval. It was real alright. Why the hell were they sending kids out to slaughter people? Mickey leaned back in his chair, allowing his incantation to naturally fade.

“Can I go now?” Sera asked, putting the document back into her bag, “I’ve got a bottle of wine with my name on it at home.”

--

Mickey sat in his office, his feet propped up on his desk. He fought the urge to light up a smoke, but ended up losing the battle. They weren’t much closer to cracking this case open than when they started, but it sure as hell got a lot more interesting. The Crown wanted something buried, something that this Anders character had a vested interest in. Silently he conjured a rubber ball from thin air and began to rebound it off the far wall. Where were they supposed to go from here? Sera mentioned other facilities that Anders would be interested in, but she had no idea where they were located. He had even tried to scrape the man’s arcane signature off her, but whatever Anders did to her left no real trace.

“Come on, get your coat,” Detective Maldera said as he burst into Mickey’s office.

“You too cool to knock or something?” Mickey asked, dispelling his rubber ball with a gesture.

“Look, this stays between us, but I think I’ve got a contact who might have a lead,” Maldera explained, his voice dropping to a hush, “He says he’s got the inside scoop on something big going down at the 7th Tyree National Bank.”

“Okay, and what’s going down?”

“Don’t know, he doesn’t like to give out specifics without compensation,” Maldera said, “Like I said, not a word to anyone - not even the chief. This guy isn’t exactly above board.”

Mickey smiled, “Victor you dog, and here I thought you were one of them by the book types. What’s the weather like?”

It was a silly question, of course. He only had the one coat, and that was the beauty of a trench coat - it was always weather appropriate.
 

Aquarius

The Calamitous Constellation
Level 2
Joined
Nov 4, 2021
Messages
45
Essence
€4,710
Coin
₡9,500
Tokens
0
World
Erde Nona
Profile
Click Here
Efficiency was something Aquarius appreciated in his colleagues. Caustic wore an air of someone with his own lofty goals and if that was the case he was doing and saying all the right things to get there. So much so that the automaton didn't even have any follow up questions. He read over what Caustic had taken note of and nodded once before handing it to Anders.

"Truly, this is impressive work. Your capabilities are of a man who's adept in his field. I offer you sincere thanks for this advancement."

Caustic immediately noted how cold and well, robotic, the machine spoke. It was almost humorous for a being such as this Aquarius to live up to its own existence in such a stereotypical way. Nonetheless his words were kind beyond their plastic demeanor and a nod was returned in kind.

"You speak high praise of me for having just made my acquaintance. I am sure you will not fail to live up to my expectations as well." Aquarius wouldn't dare.

Anders finished reading over the notes and passed them back to Caustic in thoughtful contemplation. The pad of his thumb pushed roughly against the skin of his chin as he thought what to do with what they'd learned. Security cameras. Silent alarms. Shift changes. All important information that needed something larger to be put into place. As Anders opened his mouth to ask his question he was unintentionally interrupted by his robotic colleague;

"I suppose, doctor, that as you say, I should pull my weight." Aquarius stepped forth near the two others and reached into his robe. He revealed an approximately two foot by two foot scroll that he quickly unfurled in front of his two allies. Using various random objects as paperweights he held the map down and it was in full display for the two of them. A bisected layer of floors, showing each floors layout in a simple but recognizable manner. Aquarius pointed at the bottom layer.

"Entering from the entrance on the first floor, I posed as a patron preparing to open a savings account. Simple enough and something the drones working there could paid extra to ensure happens, I assume." He tapped around the first floor with his finger. "There were four tellers on the first floor. That luckily corroborates with what Doyle told us. The number of patrons will vary as it is the busiest floor. Security is not substantial nor is it completely missing." He pointed to various X's he'd marked in corners and on walls.

"These are all entry and exit points. The bottom floor holds about five, three of which are intended for employees opening. And one -" He slid his finger to a specific X not far from the main entrance.

"- is a staircase that leads downward. Guarded by two as Caustic's notes have shown. That seemed to be the only point of entry to the vault if we're excluding vents and airshafts."


The second floor seemed to be much smaller. It was intended for those with higher funds than normal and so only the highest of priority customers would have accounts there.

"The second floor held an elevator. Now, there was no elevator on the first floor which we can determine leads also to the bottom floor. Where down there, I cannot say, as only extremely well off patrons and guardsmen were allowed upon that as well. Access to the vault is very limited and unfortunately I could not incriminate myself by finding more details. But this is an exact replica of the bank itself minus the bottom floor. Feel free to use it at your leisure.


Caustic paced around the map and looked at inquisitively for a few long seconds before smiling to himself. He tapped at each air vent.

"Worst case scenario..." The doctor said with a violence on his tongue. "The air flow is quite incredible in there. A concoction would move freely throughout the place."

Anders disliked the idea of it coming to that, but righteousness could not be impeded by morality when their enemy was as great as it was. False kings died, just not oft easily. The information they had was enough to formulate a plan but Aquarius would leave the beginning of that to Anders. To him, the spellsword was like those who had ruled before and who he'd served under. A memory in flesh of the times he desired to return to.

Nothing, no army nor king, would keep those days from him anymore.
 

Mad Maggie

Kia Maia, Kia Manawanui!
Level 2
Joined
Jul 4, 2020
Messages
80
Essence
€5,044
Coin
₡1,500
Tokens
15
World
Opealon
Profile
Click Here
The 7th Tyree National Bank was operating at 60% occupancy around 11 o clock in the morning. Account holders and couriers were milling around the lobby as Aquarius entered the doors, wearing his hooded cloak and slowly moving towards the small waiting area in the main lobby. "Archangel, are you in position?" A voice rasped in the earpiece. "I have taken my position on the roof with the nonlethal agent. The central condenser duct will be a prime insertion point. It will take 5 minutes before occupants will begin to feel the effects, with unconsciousness coming soon after. Do not rely upon the gas overtly, however. To dose such a large and varied crowd without massive fatalities unfortunately allows for variances. Some may be able to remain conscious and shake off the effect." The doctor paused in his lecture. "Ganymede out. Awaiting your go, Deus Prime."

Anders Nazret was similarly garbed and clued in. His earpiece was hidden under a heavy helmet of old Arcadia, his overall outfit not looking out of place in the fantasy city. "Deus Prime in position. Two exterior guards at the front entrance, two at the rear, and one patrolling between them. Archangel, proceed towards the rear entrance and be ready for my signal. Take the guards out and seal the doors." The confirmation from both came in, and he slowly approached the guards. The bank wasn't in the downtown area, so the streets outside weren't as packed as they could have been. A horse wagon passed by, the noise from the hooves and vehicle the perfect cover for what he was about to do. Approaching the guards, he tipped his helmet at them. "Fine day, sir." The one on the left greeted him with. Anders couldn't hold the grimace back under his helmet. "Not for you."

The guard on his right went down with the horse kick to his knee. A solid punch in the gut doubled over the guard who'd greeted him, and grabbing the man's lapel, he twisted his neck and flung him bodily into his counterpart. Two solid punches to the forehead of each man put them out for the count, and Anders activated his earpiece.

"For the True Heir. Go."

______________

The door of the rear entrance of the bank opened very suddenly. And with enough force to smash into the rear guard's nose, breaking it with a crunch. The pain overwhelmed him and he went down suddenly, clutching at his face. This left the other guard's confused face hanging in the entryway the perfect target for Aquarius's metal fists. The door's slammed back shut as the other guard was sent flying backwards, and closing the doors behind him, Aquarius faked an injury, clutching his side. "Ah. Sorry. My old hip, you know." Only a couple people looked at him, not realizing that he was in fact covering the rear exit, as Anders Nazret strolled through the front doors as if he wasn't a wanted terrorist.

____________

Up on the roof, I'd just affixed the canister of nonlethal knockout agent to the side of the air duct access vent, depositing the chemical mixture into the main airflow to the bank. Most people would succumb to the gas, but then again much had been made of the automated or mechanical defenses such as the robot hounds. I'd also secretly resented being made to expend resources on making a nonlethal version of my gas, purely to save some bothersome citizen's lives, but ah. Nazret was the boss, and I wasn't about to light the fuse on that foaming powder keg. "Gas deposited. Proceeding downstairs." I headed towards the one door on the roof, scanning the total square footage of the area. Hopefully the MVRN autopilot I'd purchased in between supply runs could set the Tonegawa down on such a small landing pad for our extraction. Of course, if we couldn't make it back up to the roof the point was moot. We'd have to extract to the nearest flat area the ship could land on. I was not especially thrilled to be risking my ship, especially when I'd seen the anti-air emplacements, but if it was down to a harried extraction or my life I would choose the latter.

I approached the door to the stairwell down, and raised the butt of my shotgun, a heavy, blocky weapon that shot incredibly effective spread patterns. This was how I'd made my way up here, several hours prior. The bank manager's advice had proven invaluable, taking advantage of shit changes or personal habits to silently and casually make my way up to the roof through the personnel floors. I'd even been able to grab a cup of coffee by posing as a visiting family member of "Carol in HR". Insipid fools. I dearly hoped one of them would require me to make an example with my canister of lethal gas. Never leave the ship without some.
 

Anders Nazret

Arcadian Swordmage
Level 4
Joined
Jul 14, 2021
Messages
69
Awards
1
Essence
€11,565
Coin
₡8,057
Tokens
5
World
Erde Nona
Profile
Click Here
Faction
Heralds of the True Heir
Detective Mickey stood outside the contact’s townhouse, half-heartedly puffing on an unfiltered cigarette. Victor was inside, and from what Mickey could hear he was putting some work in on their contact. While Mickey wasn’t above turning a blind eye to the occasional case of police misconduct, the contact’s sporadic cries for help had his gut twisted into knots. After all Mick had seen what Maldera could do to a punching bag. Unfortunately the scuzzbag picked the wrong detective to play hardball with. He had wanted Maldera to pony up several grand, which was apparently quite a bit higher than their agreed rate. So now Mickey got to stand outside listening to Maldera beat the daylights out of some hacker in their pajamas.

The door suddenly opened and Maldera appeared in the threshold, wiping off his knuckles with a borrowed dishrag. Mickey took a drag of his smoke and nodded towards the sky, “It’s gonna rain today.” Score another one for team trenchcoat.

“Get in the car,” Victor said harshly, pushing past Mickey and letting the door slam shut on its own.

As Mickey got into Victor’s unmarked cruiser he asked, “So, what’s the scoop?”

“Bank robbery,” He answered, pulling out and speeding down the street, “Not just that, but some sort of close-range cyber attack as well. Seems our terrorists were hired by someone with a lot of cash to throw around.”

“Okay…,” Mickey said, the word hanging in the air as he realized just how fast they were going, “How do you know you beat the truth out of him and he didn’t just tell you what he thought you wanted to hear?”

“He showed me proof,” Victor said, taking a sharp turn before elaborating, “Shipping manifests doctored to legally get some sort of hacking device planetside, cryptocurrency transactions to bribe a few key officials, and most damning of all - surveillance footage showing said device being loaded onto a ship with the I.D. ‘Tonegawa’.”

“Tonegawa…” Mickey repeated, the name not ringing any bells.

“It’s him, Mick, I saw him in the footage, it’s Nox.”

“So when are they going to strike?” Detective Mickey asked.

“Today,” Maldera answered, “Not sure when, but they’re making a move today.”

At that moment Detective Mickey realized why Maldera was driving like a bat out of hell. They were headed straight to the 7th Tyree National Bank. He reached for the radio and said, “We gotta call this in, Vict--”

“Don’t you touch that fucking radio,” Victor said, snatching the reciever from Mick’s hand and slamming it back onto the hook,, “We’ll radio it in once we get there, but no one else gets a shot at Nox before me.”

“Victor, if they’re bringing in equipment from offworld, who knows what other hardware they have access to,” Mickey said, “We need backup.”

“No, what we need is to bring that bastard to justice, now if you want to keep complaining about it you can sit in the car and wait for backup once we get there, but I’m not fucking around.”

They blew past a red light, and bombed down a hill. Detective Mickey sighed and with a few esoteric hand gestures he conjured a barrier spell. A transparent wall of light blue energy materialized between them, separating the cab in half with the radio squarely on Mickey’s side. Detective Maldera glanced over before glancing back and swerving to avoid a pothole. He swore and banged on the freshly constructed barrier, his fist thudding against it fruitlessly.

“Damnit Mickey, don’t you touch that fucking radio,” He repeated.

“You need to calm down Victor,” Mickey said, holding the radio’s receiver, “I won’t call this in ‘till we get there, but you’re gonna have to tell me why you’re so damned interested in this Caustic guy.”

Mickey watched as Detective Maldera’s knuckles grew pale from gripping the steering wheel. He seemed just about ready to explode. Mick wondered if his barrier would hold up to Victor’s pistol. Then Victor exhaled. His body relaxed. The speedometer came down to only a few notches above the posted speed limit.

“I’ve been chasing this guy for a long time Mick, a long time,” He explained, “Gotten close a few times, but the bastard always seems to be one step ahead. He’s the one that got away, and in my homeworld he cost me everything I had. When I came here I thought I could get a second chance at a normal life, and sure as shit the chief gave me one. But, I kept thinking about Nox. I kept thinking about all that blood on his hands, and how I’m responsible for all that blood because I let him get away time and time again. I thought The Crossroads gave me a second chance at a normal life, but when I saw that dossier come across my desk I realized that getting another shot at that bastard was my second chance.”

Detective Mickey nodded and lit up another smoke, patch be damned. He knew what it was like to fuck up and see people die. There were more than a few demonic rituals he had failed to stop, and everytime he made it a point to go to the funerals of those caught in the crossfire. Rain had begun to pelt their windshield as the sky opened up. He made a gesture and the barrier spell shattered into a million pieces of crackling energy.

“Alright, let’s go get your white whale,” He said, performing another gesture, “I’ve cast a ward spell on the both of us, let’s hope whatever they got isn’t much more powerful than a handgun.”

“Thanks Mick.”

“Don’t mention it Victor,” Mickey thought for a moment, “Seriously, not a fuckin’ word of this to the chief, I still got a few more years till I can retire and if he found out we were going all Rambo he’d had our nuts on a silver platter.”

----

Anders adjusted his gas mask with an irritated huff. The infuriating thing seemed to be a size entirely too small. Furthermore it was a cowardly act to hide one’s face, belief in one’s purpose after all, was the only protection required, no matter how reviled one’s purpose was. Still, he swallowed his pride and turned towards the closed door behind him. Panic had begun to set in on the bank’s occupants as Dr. Caustic’s gas began to take effect. None, however, dared to approach him as he worked. His hands weaved intricate sigils over the front door’s lock. After several moments he finished the ritual and the door became magically reinforced and sealed shut. Nothing short of a shaped explosive would be able to breach it now.

He turned to see Aquarius standing amongst a field of unconscious citizens. Anders nodded as he walked past and towards the rear door, performing the same ritual and sealing them inside. No doubt a silent alarm had been triggered before the tellers went completely comatose. They had to be quick, it was only a matter of time before Arcadia’s drones arrived. The distant thuds of Caustic’s shotgun raised hair on the back of his neck. Although the doctor seemed quite capable their operation was still in its infancy and any mis-steps now would spell disaster for them. He moved towards Aquarius, who was hard at work collecting credentials from passed out bank employees. The robot handed Anders a collection of keycards… along with the severed fingers of a few high-ranking employees.

“Biometrics,” Aquarius said as he dropped the fingers into Ander’s outstretched palm, “Hopefully these will provide you with the means to bypass them should they arise.”

Caustic appeared at the top of a staircase, the barrel of his shotgun still smoking, “Our path to the roof has been cleared and the upper levels are secure.”

“Excellent work Cau… Ganymede, phase two is ready for execution,” Anders said, rolling his shoulder and feeling the weight of the device strapped across his back, “Archangel, establish a perimeter and keep us safe as we descend into--”

The words never left his mouth. An invisible force slammed into his shoulder, sending him sprawling across the linoleum floor. He caught himself and looked towards the source, but saw nothing at first. Near invisible ripples in the air betrayed his assailant’s position. Aquarius surged towards their invisible attacker. He brought the Teeth of Old Arcadia to bare, squarely striking his target. As the electrically charged weapon discharged their attacker’s concealment vanished for a moment. Cold steel in the shape of a mastiff appeared from beneath the veil of invisibility. Aquarius flowed into a followup strike, but the automaton recovered and dashed away. It fled back beneath its veil, appearing as nothing more than a patch of agitated air. Anders stood, readjusting the device on his back. Around them several more patches of rippling air appeared.

“So this is what passes for modern Arcadian technology?” Anders asked Aquarius, “Dispose of these poor excuses for ingenuity, Archangel.”

“With pleasure,” The ancient automaton answered, stepping forward with a flourish of his weapon.

As the battle became joined Anders moved towards the “employees only” access door. Dr. Caustic followed, his shotgun at the ready. Together they descended into the bowels of the bank, using the stolen keycards to bypass several locked doors. Anders did not bother magically enchanting these locks; Aquarius was a more than sufficient defense against whatever these cretins could throw at them. Eventually they came to an access door with a fingerprint scanner. A reinforced rectangle of glass allowed them to see that the vault door lay just beyond. Anders retrieved one of the fingers and pressed it against the scanner. A few moments passed and the words “Thaumaturgical Signature Denied” appeared on the display.

Anders swore under his breath. Of course there was more to this than purely mechanical defenses. No doubt each employee, or at least the ones with vault access, was marked with a magical signature. A signature that would only persist within living tissue.

“Can you burn through this door?” Anders asked.

“Almost certainly, however any solvent I use here means there will be less to use for the vault door itself,” He answered, taking a peek through the glass, “And judging by its size we’ll need to be conservative in our use.”

Anders nodded, “Give me a moment then, I’ll deal with these safeguards.”

The fusion of magic and technology was not something unfamiliar to Anders. Form, after all, was one of the primary tenants of swordmage thaumaturgy. Metal provided a perfect foundation for enchantment as it was generally unyielding, yet able to be molded into whatever shape needed. He weaved several symbols across the face of the scanner and a shimmering circle of magic appeared in front of it. He could see the invisible strings holding the enchantment together. Thaumaturgical wires ran through the entire lock, feeding signals into various components of the arcane circuitry. It was a new age sort of magic, the delicate kind built upon centuries of permutations. This was the downfall of modern magic - it had become an art form rather than a tool to be used. And it was in these perfectly manicured edges that he found an exploitable flaw. His own aura surged into the lock, forcing itself through thaumaturgical seal after thaumaturgical seal. In an instant the enchantment was shattered and the keypad beeped. The door slid open and Anders smiled proudly.

“After you, doctor,” Anders said, “I’ll work on activating the cyber-worm while you access the vault.”
 

Aquarius

The Calamitous Constellation
Level 2
Joined
Nov 4, 2021
Messages
45
Essence
€4,710
Coin
₡9,500
Tokens
0
World
Erde Nona
Profile
Click Here
Ah, a time to shine, finally. The hounds cloaking was an annoyance but that's all it was. Nothing more.

A sheathing of The Teeth into a seamless draw of Ganymede. How fitting. The blade whirred into life with its crimson sheen; the ambience increased by the panicked shouts of those unluckily enough to be checking their balances this day. They were such filthy machines. Ones that had never come face to face with a true piece of artwork from the Golden Age.

Their cloaking was more advanced than expected, however. He never heard it rushing towards him as if its footsteps made no noise. It was just the pressure of the air and the previous attack that led him to know he was being charged. Even still, with Aquarius' warrior-hardened senses, the attack landed. A slam into his right hip sent him reeling and nearly falling over. The automaton let Ganymede drag across the chassis of the mechanical hound as it rushed passed him.

A red electrical surge emitted from the dog and Aquarius stabled himself to turn and see it.

"I see you."
His glowing eye whirred as it focused on his now visible target. The remaining stressor was their numbers. How many more sneak attacks could he take? Luck would be important here. Luck, contrary to popular belief, was very malleable. Aquarius flourished his blade.

The stained hound rebounded and ran at him. A visage of red electricity sprinting at him was interrupted by his knee buckling beneath the weight of another invisible force slamming into the back of his leg. Since he was going low, he swung Ganymede wide in front of him and caught the marked hound across it's head, splitting it in twain. He reached his free hand backwards and clenched his hand around an unseen limb. Aquarius rolled from his knelt position and brought the hound with him and swung the blade across it's stomach. The machine fell, and both opponents appeared in view as they fell over dead.

He stood up again and brushed himself off. Was that it? Two? That's all they thought they needed?

"What a joke." Aquarius shook his head and walked to guard the exits when he heard a shot. A gun shot. Aquarius looked up towards the window of the bank. He held the button on his communicator down;

"This is Archangel. We have company."

-----

"It should be just a couple minutes away."
Mickey mumbled as they continued to drive. The detectives had gone quiet for a moment. Even after their agreement it was clear they didn't really agree on the situation. Mickey drove while Malderra sat in silence looking out the window, his eyes fixated in the cardinal direction of the First National Tyree.

Mickey tapped his finger nervously agains the steering wheel as he contemplated another cigarette. Something was off about this whole thing and he knew this wasn't going to go well with just the two of them. With Malderra's attention stolen, Mickey snuck out his phone and shot his chief a message.

First National Tyree
Send backup


He slid his phone back in his pocket without making a noise. Not two minutes later, they were there. They got out of their car and began meandering towards the bank. As they approached Mickey kept his eye on Malderra, who was clearly losing patience. The bank became imposing as they approached. The windows became clearer.

Time froze for the two when they could finally see inside. Bleeding civilians. maimed guards, disabled defenses. Malderra's eyes went wide watching the strange robot brush itself off. Mickey's did the same as he watched Malderra unholster his pistol and take aim at the window in front of him. In synchronization; Malderra went to fire as Mickey slammed his pistol to aim at the ground. A shot rang out across the world and time returned to normal.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Mickey shouted at Malderra. Not seeing that the automaton was now aware of them.
 

Mad Maggie

Kia Maia, Kia Manawanui!
Level 2
Joined
Jul 4, 2020
Messages
80
Essence
€5,044
Coin
₡1,500
Tokens
15
World
Opealon
Profile
Click Here
Victor Maldera stared at his partner with something approaching disgust in his face. The smoking gun was still clenched in his hand as a vein pulsed in his temple. He holstered the gun and leaned his forehead against the wall. "I thought I could end it quick. Get one of them down, bust in, and flush the rest out."

Detective Mickey stared at him, cold. "This might be insurbordination, but your judgement is clearly compromised when it comes to this Caustic character. If I hadn't signaled for backup, we might both be dead in there." He took out a cigar and lit it, sighing as the mouse walked back from the back entrance and down the alley. "Take a fuckin' minute, Maldera. Think about who you really are when given everything you've wanted. Are you going to do it right? Or are you going to just make another killer?" He walked off towards the front of the bank, a wagon of highly trained Arcadian SWAT pulling up along with a couple squad cars filled with support officers. Maldera just watched him go and took a deep breath, taking out his radio and keying it to the local frequency. "This is Detective Victor Maldera. Officer Mouse and myself were FOS, we're taking charge of this. They have hostages, I saw people lying down, but no confirmed casualties yet....do NOT take any action that has not been ordered, is that clear?" His eyes blinked as her strained to say the next words, the bile already rising in his throat. But Mickey was right, It had to go down this way. "We are going 100 percent by the book. There will be no fuckups here today, am I clear? Maldera over."

~~~~~~~

In ten minutes there was a cordon around the bank, both entrances on the ground covered. Duty officers were keeping a looky-loo crowd at bay while long range marksmen began to set up on the opposite buildings. Unfortunately, the 7th Tyree National Bank was constructed as an afterthought, all of the real money in the furnishings and interior. The exterior was sculpted stone, very pretty and reflective but unbothered with things such as windows. Money bought a lot of things out of sight, central air being one of them. Such a state of the art system had been their downfall though, since apparently Nox had used it to distribute some sort of sedation throughout the air. Maldera gritted his teeth as he watched security footage on the outer link his team had set up, people starting to choke and then fall over where they stood. Some crawled to cover, others fought valiantly to stay standing but were quickly dispatched by the thieves. The video feed fizzled out as Anders entered the building, most of the accessible network down or not able to be patched in without being inside.

Detective Mickey rejoined Maldera at the front entrance as the pugilist detective raised a bullhorn. "You made your decision, I hope?". Victor made his next action his response; raising the bullhorn to his lips. His strong, gruff voice authoritatively enhanced and broadcasted as a sonic bark. "Anders Nazret. The Mechanoid known as Aquarius." His heart swelled and he could feel the blood rushing in his ears. "Alexander-fucking-Nox, also known as Doctor Caustic.... You are surrounded. Give yourselves up now or so help me Arbiters I will make SURE you get the death penalty." He looked at Mickey. "He's trapped. He's mine. You got it? I will make the fucking collar myself." Victor turned to the support team. "What do we have for a line into the bank? I need to talk to them....."

Aquarius, watching from inside and hearing everything, raised his mechanical hand to his earpiece. "I don't think we need to bother with codenames anymore. Caustic...you'd better get up here."

~~~~~~~

I passed by Aquarius as he came downstairs to trade places with me. The noxious chemicals I'd brought had done their job, the largest of the mechanical locks corroded into rust and sludge. Magical protections were Nazret's area of expertise, and according to the announcement outside, I had an...admirer. The lobby was still partially occupied by unconscious or drowsy hostages, and I took my time preparing my own defenses at the main entrance. One of the phones behind the teller's desk rang....and kept ringing as I ignored it, taking time to place my own Nox Gas Traps by the entrances and easily accessible entryways to the lobby. Finally, I walked over and casually answered the phone, a cool greeting on my lips. "You asked for me by name."

A voice came over the line, filled with barely disguised contempt as it answered. "I got you, Nox. I know who you are. You thought you could escape from what you did on Gaea? All of Zaldana City thought you were dead. They closed the case."

Interesting. "And you chased me across the galaxy, did you? Well well well...here I am. Come and get me."

He was almost hissing now. "Oh no. You're all going to come out, or else we will terminate every one of you. Please. Please don't give up. Make my day. I want to see you die, you twisted freak."

He was clouded with rage. This was almost amusing, to inadvertently drive some poor fool to the brink of madness with obsession...without even doing it intentionally. "I welcome the challenge, Detective. However....I have trapped all of the entrances into the bank with my gas. If I detect any of them activating...I will start killing hostages. You'll finally break in, only to find a field of corpses. and me. Gone. Again." I allowed myself a dramatic chuckle. "I await your next move, Detective."

-click-
 

Anders Nazret

Arcadian Swordmage
Level 4
Joined
Jul 14, 2021
Messages
69
Awards
1
Essence
€11,565
Coin
₡8,057
Tokens
5
World
Erde Nona
Profile
Click Here
Faction
Heralds of the True Heir
“That arrogant son-of-a-bitch,” Maldera muttered, pulling the receiver from his face. He glanced over his shoulder, “You ready yet Mickey?”

Detective Mickey was hard at work using chalk to inscribe a sigil in the asphalt behind the growing wall of squad cars. A makeshift awning had been erected to protect his magical inscription from the rain. Nearby a group of S.W.A.T. officers waited patiently for him to finish his work.

“Don’t rush me, Maldera,” He said, consulting his pocket spellbook before adding another mark, “If I get this wrong we’ll come out the other side with our heads on backwards.”

“And every minute we waste is another minute that Nox gets to do whatever the hell he wants,” Maldera snapped back, “Now-"

He was interrupted by a squad car peeling up beside them. Hot rubber stunk up the air. The door opened and the chief stepped out. His wacky tie was missing and a ballistics vest hugged his muscle-bound chest. His expression was that of iron, cold and implacable. Mickey regarded him with a nod before turning back to his inscription.

"Detective Maldera," He said with an undercurrent of barely contained fury, "As of this moment you're suspended, report back to HQ, I'll be taking this one over."

Color drained from Victor's face and it looked like someone had scraped out the red lining of his veins. All he managed to stammer out was a jumbled mix of surprised protests. The chief silenced him with a raised hand and a throbbing head vein.

"Enough," The chief barked, "Thirty minutes ago we received a call from a man claiming police brutality, imagine my surprise when he described the perp."

At this Mickey looked up from his work.

The chief continued, "About six feet tall, bald, black, wearing a uniform with the badge mysteriously removed, and punches like a professional boxer - sound familiar?"

"Chief, if you pull me from this, people are going to die," Victor pleaded, "I'm the only one who knows what Nox is capable of."

"And that is precisely why I'm pulling you," He answered, "You're too close and you're being reckless, you're going to get people killed going in there guns blazing."

Mickey interjected, "Then, what's your plan Chief?"

"They're robbing a bank, Mick, bank robbers want money - we have them outgunned and surrounded," He explained, "We can talk them down."

"Talk them down?" Mickey exclaimed, "You can't be serious, they're terrorists chief, for all we know they're planning to blow the whole place up."

Maldera nodded, "He's right, Nox isn't here for an easy payday, trust me, I've seen his handiwork.”

They fell silent, with the sound of police sirens and radio chatter filling the void. Rain raked across the asphalt street and squad cars alike. Beneath the steel wool clouds the chief’s face was hard to make out, but both detectives had worked for him long enough to know that he was seriously considering their pleas.

Finally, he relented, “Detective Maldera, considering our current circumstance, your suspension will be delayed until after the hostage situation is resolved… but, mark my words Victor, and blood spilled today is on your hands and you will be held accountable for it.”

“Don’t worry Chief,” Mickey said, clapping his companion on the shoulder, “We’ll have this wrapped up before dinner.”

The chief nodded curtly before climbing back into his cruiser and driving off.

--

Anders watched silently as the cyber-worm tripod deployed. Much like Caustic’s ship It was a soulless machine, completely devoid of any thaumaturgy. While rote technology had always existed (and would always exist) he couldn’t help but find a lack of imagination in it. Old Arcadia had found that perfect blend of magic and metal centuries ago, and the modern ages seemed to have largely cast it aside. Such a travesty. But, a travesty that would soon be righted. This was the first step in the pursuit of justice and Anders was glad that it was going so swimmingly. Naturally, he was glad until Maldera’s voice boomed across the loudspeaker and Caustic left him alone in the vault.

Anders examined the smoldering hole Caustic had left in the vault wall. His concoctions were quite effective. Beyond the freshly-made access hole sat a fraction of Arcadia’s wealth. Gold glittered in carefully measured piles along with treasure of all shapes and sizes sat cordoned off from one another in cubbies identified with barcodes. According to their brief, most of this stuff was illegally gained or at the very least connected to illegal activities. How much of that was true? Well, Anders wasn’t sure, but it wouldn’t surprise him if it all was true. After all, modern Arcadia was morally bankrupt.

“Our situation has soured,” Aquarius said, Anders hadn’t even heard him enter the room.

“So I’ve heard,” Anders responded, “The cyber worm still needs time to perform its duty… we will hold until then.”

“And once it is complete?”

Anders stayed silent. Their plan had been to escape before law enforcement managed to arrive in strength. Obviously that plan was no longer feasible. There was little doubt in Anders mind that every exit was being watched by several sets of eyes and that escaping would require firepower which they simply did not have. As much as he was loathed to admit it, escape seemed to become more of a fairy tale by the minute.

“Here,” Anders said, handing Aquarius a canvas sack and side-stepping the question, “We will need every monetary advantage we can procure if we are to overthrow the false king.”

Aquarius didn’t press the issue. Instead they worked in silence, filling their sacks while the cyber-worm performed its work behind them. After a spell they had filled their respective bags with all manner of valuables. It was when Anders checked the cyber-worm’s progress that he became aware of something quite odd. There was a shimmering in the air, a sort of inconsequential visual glitch that would have been ignored if not for Anders’s familiarity with such things. Reality itself was shuddering, desperately trying to keep itself from being pried apart. But, as was the way of magic, reality was nothing more than an obstacle capable of being overcome.

The scent of rain on asphalt filled the room. Before Anders could even think to warn Aquarius several rips opened up around them. Men dressed in black ballistic equipment, carrying sub-machine guns appeared. Their guns fell upon Aquarius and Anders, but they did not fire. The final man to step out from the shimmering nothingness was dressed in a plain trench coat. Magical residue clung stubbornly to his fingertips and he casually flicked it away. The globs of freshly torn reality were reabsorbed into the ether and simply vanished from sight.

“Well, how’s that for an entrance?” The man said with an arrogant smirk, “Name’s Detective Mickey, and you’re a suspected terrorist Mr. Nazret.”

Anders glanced over his shoulder towards Aquarius. The automaton hadn’t moved a single servo during the ambush. Instead he sat silent, his expressionless face merely observing the situation. With this Anders felt a sense of serenity. His companion was not just a mere robot, but rather a construction born from Arcadia’s glorious past. These men with their guns and second-rate parlor tricks were nothing in the face of true competency. Anders smiled, for he knew how this would end.

“Nothing to say? Not even a ’drats, I’ve been foiled again’?” The detective asked with raised eyebrows, “Well, in any case I wouldn’t make any sudden movements if I were you, my friends here have the greenlight to put you down.”

Anders stayed silent.

“I’ve read your dossier Anders, and if I had to guess? Well, you’re going to get shipped off to some black site,” Mickey continued, “But, let me ask you a question before they haul you off - there’s this girl, she’s a college student, was a college student… her name is Sera and you had a little run-in with her not too long ago.”

Anders remembered. He remembered the wet-behind-the-ears pyromancer so full of arrogance that she couldn’t even begin to comprehend the greatness of what she attempted to destroy. She was a vandal. A savage puppeted along by masters who knew the truth of Arcadia and its nubile king. She was weak. He had struck her down without shedding so much as a single bead of sweat.

“That young lady had devoted her entire life to the pursuit of magic, and after bumping into you? Well, she can’t even light up a smoke without using a lighter,” He continued, “I talked to Sera’s professor, she had real talent, she could’ve been one of this generation’s greatest sorceresses, but you took that away. I don’t know what kind of man you are, Anders, but if you have any shred of humanity you’ll tell me how to undo what you did to her.”

Talent?” Anders scoffed, “What do you know of talent? You think a child capable of conjuring a flame is talent? There are no talented magicians in Arcadia, there are no venerable wizards or witches. This is the era of imposters and masquerades and the theater has become so convincing that even the actors have deluded themselves into belief. So, to answer your question Detective, no I will not deign to reveal my secrets to you - because magic is only for the worthy and the worthy have long since perished.”

The room was far too cramped to keep a reasonable distance away from him, and this would be his opening. He shouldered into the nearest operative, grabbing him and turning him around to use as a shield. In that same moment Aquarius surged into action. Bullets chased after the automaton but it moved far quicker than the operative’s reactions. Anders shoved his improvised shield into one of the men firing upon Aquarius and drew his sword. With a single downward stroke he cut into the shoulders of the two entangled men. His dark iron sword did not manage to cut through their vests, instead it crumpled them as if it were some great bludgeon. The vault fell silent, within moments Anders and Aquarius had incapacitated or killed the raiding party - save for one man.

“You bastards,” Mickey shouted, his hands already weaving a multitude of sigils.

Anders smiled. While the man before him showed at least some knowledge of thaumaturgy he most certainly was no expert. His sigil work was passable for a child, but embarrassingly rudimentary for an adult. He was attempting to cast a spell of physical binding. It was an effective incantation, but one that required far too much time and effort to cast in the heat of battle. Doubly so if the caster lacked any familiarity with thaumaturgical heuristics. Anders stepped forward, his own arm wreathed in arcane energy.

Mickey finished his incantation with a flourish of his wrists and a series of unpronounceable words. Chains materialized from thin air, clamping onto Anders and trying to pull him back. With a grunt he surged forward, just as a chain wrapped itself around his throat. He thrust his arm forward, grabbing the lapel of Mickey’s trench coat and pulling him close. The detective gasped and the chains flickered for a moment before disappearing completely. Arcane energy poured from his body and flowed into Anders’s.

“Do you feel it Detective?” Anders asked, “Do you feel your inadequacy?”
Mickey, however, never answered. With his magic drained he fell limp and Anders allowed him to drop. He wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t too far from death either. Anders smiled, feeling the fresh energy coursing through his veins.

Where Mickey had torn through reality remained shimmering strands of magic. Anders wasn’t exactly an expert in dimensional restructuring, but his understanding of thaumaturgical principles would let him piggyback off Mickey’s spell. In other words? He could mimic the detective’s teleportation circle, but adjust the destination.He had to work fast though, the threads of magic would wane in short-order. The cyber-worm only had a few minutes before it would complete its task and by the time the police worked up the nerve to breach the long-abandoned bank they would be far gone.

“Excellent work,” Anders said to Aquarius before speaking into his radio, “Dr. Caustic, our enemies have been kind enough to provide us with an escape route. I will only have access to it temporarily, meet us downstairs and we will--”

“It appears I have a guest,” Caustic’s voice crackled through the radio, “Go on without me, I will provide a distraction for your escape.”

“What? This isn’t the plan,” Anders shouted back, “We won’t leave you behind.”

“Touching sentiment Mr. Nazret, but if you stay then it is only a matter of time before we are apprehended,” He answered, “Make your escape and carry the fires of your revolution with you, I will be fine.”

With that the radio fell silent and Anders set to work reconstructing the teleportation circle.
 

Aquarius

The Calamitous Constellation
Level 2
Joined
Nov 4, 2021
Messages
45
Essence
€4,710
Coin
₡9,500
Tokens
0
World
Erde Nona
Profile
Click Here
This was an unsurprising outcome to Aquarius. The man who worked as an authority figure for the remnants of the once great kingdom had not understood what he was up against. One from the Golden Age could withstand a hundred from the age of futility. Aquarius wished he could display a smirk in order to revel in this victory alongside his newfound friend. Their might was proven here.

Anders made quick work of the foolish magical detective who’d been unwise enough to approach them with such underequipped men. Aquarius felt a pang of worry about the doctor, as he was essentially throwing himself to the veritable wolves. A terrifying thought but Caustic wasn’t a stupid man. He knew what he was getting himself into.

“Ganymede.” He knew the nicknames were not necessary anymore. He liked referring to Caustic as such. Something they could share; a silent bond.

A crackle from radio static.

“Yes, Aquarius?” Caustic sounded hurried. He certainly had plenty on his plate.

“Would you consider being a royal doctor should the opportunity present itself?”

There were a few seconds of silence besides the hum of magic that leaked from Anders’ fingers and the struggling breathing of the now drained detective.

Another crackle.

“I’d consider it.”

Aquarius nodded. Good enough. It was settled then. He looked back towards Anders while he worked. Though his back was to the automaton, Aquarius could feel the smile that slowly spread against Anders’ face. Perhaps they were actually becoming more of a unit. Actually acquiring some semblance of, dare he say?

Friendship.

The thought was quickly interrupted by a frustrating noise. It was dull and quiet at first but slowly became rapturous and arrogant. Laughter, rising from the mouth of the inadequate and now magic-less detective. Aquarius offered him a turn and a stare.

“Pray tell, detective, what might you have to laugh at at a moment like this?”

The machine walked towards the diminished officer with the intent to strike him. Mickey laughed and coughed as he walked backwards toward the wall of the vault.

Mickey spoke, “Well I just find it a bit amusing that you’ve hopped straight into celebration.” As the detective reached the wall, his hand pressed hard against a section of the shiny metal paneling. In an instant he slid the panel up to reveal a small button hidden behind it.

“Especially while forgetting that the bank has a failsafe. Or maybe, you never knew.”

Mickey smashed the button with a victorious grin. It took no time for three automated turrets to fall from their hiding places in the ceiling above the revolutionaries. Three walls along the interior bank also slid downward and revealed three more of the dogs that swiftly activated their cloaking.

Aquarius’ hand gripped tight around the Cupbearer.

“It’s ready, let us be scarce.”

Anders’ voice rang out from behind him and as Aquarius whirled around there was the newly opened circle. Without thought, they both charged through it. He wondered where they would end up.
 

Mad Maggie

Kia Maia, Kia Manawanui!
Level 2
Joined
Jul 4, 2020
Messages
80
Essence
€5,044
Coin
₡1,500
Tokens
15
World
Opealon
Profile
Click Here
It was a long, tense wait in the lobby for Anders and Aquarius to finish robbing the vault and waiting for the data worm to finish it's duty. Some of the hostages were beginning to stir, the knockout chemicals wearing off. I'd already taken the opportunity to disarm all of the guards and bind their hands together. Escape would be difficult but not impossible, however I was planning to be gone before then. Unfortunately....Detective Victor Maldera. I had a fan.

It was...sobering to have a ghost from my past catch up to me, especially one so literal. I was guilty of the crime he was pursuing me for, but it had been a necessary act. Dr. Humbert was a cloistered, ignorant excuse of a researcher and his archaic ideas of ethics were holding back my work from achieving it's full potential. I'd had to kill him, the rest of my co workers, and stage a chemical catastrophe to fake my death and continue my research unabated, but Maldera had apparently seen through the two fingers I'd severed as "proof" Alexander Nox had died . And now here he was, involving himself in my business when it had absolutely nothing to do with him.

I'd been lackadaisical in my work, tweaking and being cavalier with my formulas for necessity's sake. I had need of more offensive edges in this hostile new section of space, but now that I'd been able to establish my own mobile ship the time was nigh to focus more on my work. And that meant testing the people of the Crossroads. Maldera, as hangdog as he was, was now a citizen of them as well. The edges of my lips curled up in a smirk as I thought to make my true entrance onto the scene by securing this heist and causing a large public stir in my escape.

Nothing had disturbed my gas traps in the lobby yet, but there had been too many access points to truly maintain impenetrable cover. The glaring point of entry was the same one I'd used to make it down to the lobby from the roof, as I'd had to forego trapping the upper floors to focus on fortifying the lobby. If I hadn't covered the ground floor, we would have all been overrun as Anders was looting the vault. Speaking of which....

"Make your escape. I will be fine."

I took out the radio bead from my ear and crushed it underneath my boot. Coughing into my mask, I thumbed one last shell into the Mastiff and prepared for a fight. I was more than sure of my ability to combat a team of local law enforcement, a handful of deputies and emergency response personnel whose last major challenge had been some wealthy widower's cat up a tree. There could be no doubt. With the vault breached directly, it would only be a matter of moments before my position was assaulted. That was simple operating doctrine; hit everyone at once, as hard as possible. They'd used magic to gain entry so directly, but I watched the corners of the room with the knowledge that Maldera would come for me personally. He was from my part of the universe, and as such had no skill or use of magic to surprise me. This would be a tactical engagement.

"Arcadia Police! Drop your weapon!"

-PBFT- -PBFT- -PBFT- -PBFT- -PBFT- -PBFT-

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Maldera was smarter than I had anticipated. Even if he hadn't sent men through each entrance, he'd blown both sets of doors. My gas traps all activated at once, even as masked figures stormed the lobby. Corrosion would render their masks inoperable in a matter of moments, but that's all they would need. There were far too many people to keep track of, white robed paramedics being swept in behind the combatants and tagging civilians to teleport them out of the choking clouds of Nox Gas.

"There!"

Lasers swept through the green fog and I dove to the side behind a lounge chair, firing off blasts from my Mastiff. Paper and body armor fiber blew into the air, but the return salvo of bullets and superheated flaming air caught me in the side. They were well equipped for this, and I had severely underestimated the response capabilities of what should have been the societal equivalent of 1800's France. Magic would be the X factor, I surmised, stowing my Mastiff and drawing the R-99. There was no more time for quips. Only action.

BRATATATATATATA

I rose up from behind the chair, firing an indiscriminate spray of bullets at the strike team coming from the backdoor. One of them had charged up out of formation, most likely a rookie, wielding a sparking baton. I caught them in the throat with my free hand, crushing their hyoid as I bulled their limp body towards the rest of their fellows. A cry went up from a couple of them as they caught the body but by that time I was already rushing the staircase back to the roof....only to be stopped by a solid punch to the jaw as I stepped into the stair vestibule. "Stay down, you psychopath." Victor Maldera intoned through a gas mask, gesturing to a five person combat squad lining the stairwell.

I was on my knees, and it was at this point that my lungs started to seize and I coughed. Spasming and struggling to my feet, Maldera watched as I took off my mask in the green fog of poison and spit bloody phlegm on the floor. "Kggghhhggkk....koff...hkkk." He leaned closer, apparently savoring my moment of perceived weakness. "What's the matter, Nox? You sick or something? I didn't hit you that hard..."

"No one....hggkk..koff..." I choked out, tensing my body and flexing my fingers as Maldera reached into his vest for a pair of restraints. "What was that? Doesn't matter. You have the right to remain silent...."

I interrupted him with a sudden grab, more than what someone hacking up a lung should have been capable of...but I had survived the cancer so far, and the mystery of why was one I would have to explore in the future. "No one ever thinks It's foolish to get closer." I hissed into Maldera's ear, my gloves burning his skin as I grip his throat and neck in both hands. "Agghhh! Fuck! Do not...do not shoot!" He commanded to his squad, visibly struggling against me.
"Ah! Detective....don't struggle, or the chemicals go in your eyes." I rub a thumb over his jugular, the residue burning the flesh raw to enforce the point. "Now...order your men to stand down....we're going on a walk."

___________

"Don't shoot...they're coming out."

I marched Detective Maldera out the front door, the cordon of law enforcement and paramedics having grown to encompass the entire square.....perfect. He was large and strong, but then again so was I...and I had years of Apex Games on him. He had been behind a desk. Maldera caught the gaze of an important looking official and I felt his body slacken. Now would be my moment, and in gratitude to Anders for this opportunity I decided to spread his message a bit. I shoved the barrel of my Wingman into Maldera's back and gestured him forward towards the line. "I must applaud you for quite the challenge...we thought that Arcadia had fallen asleep to let such incompetence guard them." I stepped back and flourished with the weapon, unhooking the gas grenade with my other hand as I kept the gun pointed at Detective Maldera. "In any case....I'm sure you know who I am. But what you are unaware of is what I can truly do." I removed the safety pin from the Nox Gas Grenade, keeping the plunger deployed. "It's simple, honestly. I bring Death. I am it's herald. And I have a gift for you."

I threw the grenade into the crowd, fired a round into the detective's back, and fled. Sliding over the hood of a police car, kicking a coughing dwarf as I disappeared into the wide fog of poison and ran as fast as I could down an alley. Shouts of consternation and orders being barked rose behind me, but gassing their command post while their security team was tied up in the bank had thrown their plans into chaos. My boots slid off of walls and ledges as I took a circuitous route away from the bank to throw off any pursuers. Ducking behind a dumpster, I saw a police vehicle roaring through the street in front of me, headed back towards the bank and I breathed a sigh of relief.

WHUMP

I felt a searing pain on the base of my skull, my vision blurring and my sense of balance swimming in my skull. I was hauled up by the scruff of my labcoat and then thrown face first into the stone of the alley wall. Blows began cracking the back of my head into the brickwork, my nose shattering and my teeth chipping. finally, my assailant let up and I turned, slumping down the wall to see Victor Maldera with bloody knuckles. "Khhggkk..." I gurgled, struggling to breathe through my mouth with a swollen tongue. He answered my question by reaching down and removing something from my front pocket. A tiny glowing stone. "Tracking bead." He grunted, his legs giving way under him as he slumped against the opposite wall. I could see the exit wound of the bullet I'd shot him with on the front of his vest. "I put it in there when you grabbed me." He groaned, both of us fighting for consciousness. The beating he gave me won out, and I lost sight of the world and my place in it as everything went black.
 

Anders Nazret

Arcadian Swordmage
Level 4
Joined
Jul 14, 2021
Messages
69
Awards
1
Essence
€11,565
Coin
₡8,057
Tokens
5
World
Erde Nona
Profile
Click Here
Faction
Heralds of the True Heir
Anders allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction as they stepped out of the freshly opened portal. They had been transported several blocks away into a network of alleyways. The loss of Caustic was great, but it was a preferable alternative to their entire operation being captured. Behind them the portal fizzled and closed, leaving only the trace scent of ionized air. A truly skilled magician would be able to reopen it and follow them, but the detective was neither skilled nor currently capable. There was little doubt in Anders mind that the man would end up like the young pyromancer - fittingly bereft of magic.

“We should move,” Aquarius said, shouldering his sack of ill-gotten treasure. Anders nodded in agreement and the two set out. They had a few minutes of reprieve until the authorities became aware of their escape. By then, however, they would be long gone. More than once they were spotted in their escape. How ridiculous it was, Anders decided, that they were slinking around with bags of money thrown over their shoulders like cartoon burglars. Forcing emissaries of the True Heir to stoop so low was just another slight added to Anders’ list. Soon enough the false king would feel their righteous wrath. It would be vindicating.

Their vessel, the Tonegawa, was staged not too far from them in an above-ground parking complex. They made their way into the parking facility. Within minutes the pair had loaded their spoils and lifted off. The ship peeled away from the parking facility and disappeared over the Hinterlands.

--

Later that day Mickey woke up to the measured beeps of an EKG machine. Naturally, this was never a good sign. His memory was a fuzzy collage of half-spoken sentences and blurry action. Something, however, felt off. Like his skin was a couple of sizes too large. Carefully he eased himself into a sitting position. An IV slowly fed bright blue mana into his veins. To someone sensitive to magic this should have felt like morphine, but all he could feel was exhaustion. The muscles along his lower back quivered from the strain of him sitting straight up. Even his neck muscles protested at the weight of his own head. He groaned.

“How you feeling?” Maldera’s voice cut through the stupor.

“Like I need a smoke,” He answered. This wasn’t a lie, but he really felt like his life had just ended. Like he was a spirit still trapped within its meat prison. A ghost, a shell, a husk, nothing more than an empty pack of cigarettes. He wanted to explain this to Victor, but he decided he didn’t really have the energy for it. Instead he asked, “Did you get them?”

Victor smiled, “I got him.”
 
Top