Skyside 6: Return of the Cheddar

[Earl of Purple]

Machine Dump

"What? Oh! Yes, my cart! Of course, of course! Come to daddy, future laser cannon or possibly mechanical scorpion! Or some other thing that distracts me whilst I'm building and puts me on a different technological path!" The spannerless set adds the biometric scanner to his sled of parts and starts to pull it off. "Oooof, this is heavy. Should have gone for the legs, could have built something to follow me home... No, no. I'd have gotten lost, the batteries would have run out, and I wouldn't notice. This is better. This is better. Goodbye, miss! Maybe we'll bump into each other again! Hopefully not both trying to rob the same hospital for high-end magnets, that would just be frustrating. Oooh, hospitals have high end magnets. One of those could be useful..." He's heading off, still muttering about hospitals, high-end magnets and where else to rob to get one.

[bc56]

Doom Door

"No! Go away!" Eao screams. Suddenly, in the little girl's hands is a weapon, a misshapen fungal mass in the vague form of a gun. She fires it at the approaching swarm of fish, releasing a grenade which explodes in a shower of spores and mycelia, knocking her onto her back from the recoil.

[Lord Magtok]

Thunderhead District - Olympian Extractions

Spoiler

Show

Mr. Schmidt chuckles nervously in response to the cyborg's offer. "Well, that's real nice of you, Mister. Afraid it'd do me no good, though!" There's a pained smile there as he continues to drive the shuttle forward. "Ms. Meggie don't like excuses, nor delays. Best to just... weather the storm, as it were. Else she'll feed you your fingers. Just a word of warning." He sniffs loudly before reaching a hand up to listen his tie slightly. "Not that it'll matter much to you! From what I've heard, your business here goes right over the foremen, all three of 'em. The man sighs before pulling his fraying, double-breasted suitcoat tighter around him. "You're a lucky man, I'd say. Please, don't mention any of this to anybody. I'm not sure why I said anything at all."

He breathes in shakily before properly introducing himself. "I'm Schmidt, by the by. Just an assistant, so you won't need to remember that or anything. Just didn't want to be rude." After several moments, the slow-moving shuttle winds around the back of the enormous, multi-structured factory before coming to a sudden stop before what appears to be a loading dock. The air is thick with black dust, and all around the dock, coal-smeared workers load truckloads of coal into dented carts. There's not a smile to be seen. As the shuttle engine winds down, Mr. Schmidt glances back towards Magtok. "Well, right this way, mister."

Mr. Schmidt exits the shuttle before gesturing towards the cyborg to follow him up a rickety flight of stairs.

"Well if you're in the market for a new set of fingers after this, Schmidt, just, uh..." Magtok frowns, realizing he probably won't ever see Schmidt again, and even if he handed the guy a phone number, business card, or even a prepaid burner phone, there's no guarantee it wouldn't be confiscated later. A company like this surely wouldn't take too kindly to such outside meddling either, and it's likely the shiny new fingers would be confiscated too. ****, he's dealing with some real psychopaths here, isn't he? Is it really a good idea to be doing business with this company? I mean, it's easy money, sure, but does he really want to put what little is left of his tattered soul in jeopardy like this? Hell is a very real, very awful place, as his brother Malice can attest, and MagClones usually don't live very long.

"Hrm. Well, if you see me again and there's something I can do to help, let me know," he offers defeatedly, wondering how much he could do to better things here if he committed to trying to change this place from within. Would it help at all, or would even his best of intentions just make everything worse for people like Schmidt?

[Shadowcaller]

[Manor Lab]

"Well, I can try to make your magic capable in a new body, but that is entirely dependent upon the source of your magic, whether it is from the body, the mind, or soul." Norael explains. She's a bit peeved that no one seems truly willing to work with the cadaver idea. She thought it'd been rather clever! "What I mean is that if it is a matter of your soul being a conduit or it being a result of mind over matter, then it ought to work in any body I make. But if it springs from the current body you inhabit, or is possible through a quirk of your anatomy, then it might not work at all or require a fair bit of pieces transported over to make such magic conductive in a new body. Does that make sense?" She asks. "Do you know which it comes from?"

[Manor Lab]

Anri's face is as unreadable as ever, but from the way she's squirming she isn't happy with the idea of inhabiting a corpse either.
"Well...yes, perhaps but...I am not a fully-blooded djinn. At least I don't think so; frankly I have no idea what I am at the moment. Some fey was convinced I was one of them anyway. But ah, how would you even make a body for me capable of doing all that? It sounds...very complicated. And long. And I would like to continue being a glorified vending machine for as little time as possible. But if you want to try using some power of mine on it, you're welcome to try." she says, turning to Nora.

[Manor Lab]

Telly nods in agreement with Nora. "Exactly, all you need is the right essence, soul or whatever you like to call it. So once Nora extracts that from your current body, Anri, it's just about drawing out whatever djinn nature that's within you before we insert it into a new one. It's not that complicated, I've done similar things before with a lot less to work with so and in your case it should be child's play."

[UncleWolf]

Manor Lab

Norael snaps her fingers, an idea coming to her before leaning forward. "You want a biological body, right? Well, there's three ways I can see to get it. First, is the Cadaver." She explains, eyes actually seeming to sparkle a bit despite her fatigue as she gets genuinely interested in the project finally. "There's the moral objections to such, which is entirely understandable, as well as the possible issues of finding an easy supply of one we can work with depending on level of trauma. Second is Growing a body. It would take longer, take a lot more resources, and not only would we need an appropriate genetic sample to base it all off of, I would need to find a way to prevent a brain from developing its own personality and consciousness. Or...we use what those of us who went to medical school called a Meatsack." She stands, taking her tablet in her hands as she starts digging through files. "As the name implies, they're not very glamourous, but they are rather useful. Vat grown cloned flesh genetically engineered to be human enough to experiment on and do surgery upon for practice, but also made specifically to avoid the issues one might find of practicing surgery on actual people. Fair warning, the picture is a bit graphic." She turns the tablet over, showing a rather corpulent entity on the screen. "No head or brain, so the mind and person is never an issue, and while it's ugly, it has all the living and functioning organs a person would otherwise have. It'd be enough mass for me to sculpt and work with and it is already living! It's all hooked up on life support and feeding tubes. The only difficulties we'd have apart from snagging one from a medical school or pharmaceutical company is constructing a head and dealing with limbs. They're gene-tailored not to have either, so the limbs would probably need to be mechanical in design. Is this more suitable to you two?"

[Deathkeeper]

[Manor Lab]

Anri, who is rather squeamish recoils and turns her head before Nora even turns her head around.
"No, that's fine, I don't need to see. As long as it looks normal at the end of things I don't really care at this point. I...am getting rather sick of mechanical limbs. But I guess if you can't groom it to have any it's that or slither around like a Hutt. It really is a shame I can't grant wishes for myself." She doesn't really think Tellysandra or Nora would burn one of theirs for her sake, though that might actually work. She also has no idea how they'd go extracting any essence from her but that's something for the warlock to explain or figure out.

[Shadowcaller]

[Manor Lab]

Tellysandra have no doubt seen such things many times but still wrinkles her nose in distaste as Nora explains. "You're the one making the calls, Anri. I just provide the means and Nora is the expert." She doesn't seem to have anything else to say regarding Nora's suggestion. It would be a great deal cheaper than making a pristine temple body which she constructed for her angels and demons so she couldn't complain.

[Hattish Thing]

[Olympian Extractions - Factory Floor]

Mr. Schmidt glances towards the cyborg across from him and offers a pained smile, his hands wringing together as he murmurs a quiet response. "Ah, well, uh. I'll keep that in mind, mister." There's an awkward exhalation of air before the man steps forward, leading Magtok up two levels of wrought iron staircase and onto a metal balcony. "You'll want to mind your step, handrails give way fairly easily. Lovely view of the loading dock from up here, though." Mr. Schmidt produces a small iron key before pressing it into the balcony door, brushing rust off of his hands as he pulls at a battered handle.

As the iron door creaks open, Mr. Schmidt steps on inside, his dress shoes clattering against the iron walkway beyond. He'll turn back and gesture for Magtok to follow, wiping sweat off of his brow as he does so. "Alright, mister big-shot. Right this way." The inside of the factory itself is sweltering; the handrails themselves are slick with condensation. Below, scores of coal-smeared workers clad all in battered vests and sweatstained cotton topshirts haul carts of coal across the factory floor while other, slightly better dressed men (and women) operate huge steel refinery-mechanisms.

Without a word, Mr. Schmidt leads Magtok down the catwalk and towards yet another door which appears to lead into a chamber which protrudes over the factory floor. One side of the chamber is fitted with enormous, grimey windows through which an individual could theoretically watch over the floor. Mr. Schmidt will knock twice at the iron door before stepping away and cupping his hands over his mouth. "Your visitors 'ere, foreman-miss!" The door opens from the inside with a hiss, revealing a sparsely decorated office whose tin walls and wrought-iron floor seem most uninviting.

The warm air is miserably still within this office, for the fan which gently turns overhead fails to generate much of a gust at all. Iron bookshelves line the walls of the chamber, as does a cabinet filled with unlabeled bottles of (presumably) alcohol. A cheap rug serves as the room's centerpiece, and its southernmost wall is dominated by a massive chalkboard upon which dozens of tally marks and numbers have been messily scrawled. A stained wooden desk rests in one corner of the room, behind which a large woman reclines. She's quite tall, with broad-shoulders and muscular arms.

Although her face is scarred and smeared with soot, her clothes are of fine quality and consist of a white dress shirt, a matching pin-striped vest, a scarlet tie, and a pair of brown trousers. She runs a large hand through her short, curly white hair before gesturing dismissively towards the door and barking an order in that direction. "The security guy, yeah. I know. Send him in."

Spoiler: Foreman

Show

---

Company Town - Hospital

The clerk fails to make eye contact with either investigator, instead electing to shuffle paperwork absentmindedly for several seconds. Finally, there's a quiet response. "Listen, I don't know from nothing 'bout any missing folk. Word of advice; don't take wooden dimes. Hate to see a pair of skirts like you get all wrapped up in anything like your friend back there."

"I suggest you get whatever business you two got done with and skip town 'fore anything awful happens."

---

[Petroldactyl - Lobby]

The well-dressed man leans forward and chuckles heartily, his deep voice filling the area effortlessly. "Run this city? Ha, you've no idea." His deep brown eyes flash in the light as he leans back in his chair once more. His broad fingers tap patiently at his platinum-tipped cane as the goblin continues his pitch. What a funny little creature; there was a certain charm to it. Hades adjusts his enormous fur overcoat before pointing a large finger towards the goblin. "Ah, you just slay me, don't you. I like what I'm hearing, mister." He tightens a glove before continuing, licking his lips in a somewhat menacing sort of way. "Just so happens I got a lot of problems."

Hades sighs deeply, a frustrated expression upon his face. "Times are changing. Skyside is changing. And it's starting with me; with Olympian Extractions. I've carved a kingdom out of chaos, but that bit is the easy part, it always is." He rumbles before leaning forward again. "The hardest part is maintaining what you've made. I've worked hard to get this far, and I won't have my work jeopardized. I need soldiers."

---

[Silken Whisper]

While Zee and Minerva busy themselves with hunting down potential gene-stealers, whatever that means, Larz makes her way towards the bar and pours three drinks. This whole situation had gotten wildly out of hand, and she no longer knew what the hell was going on. Though, she was at least partially to blame for all that. She hadn't been paying the best possible attention to the situation. On the other hand, even half of the things she'd seen today would be enough to disturb a vast majority of people, so perhaps she was doing okay for herself, as shellshocked as she was.

Larz will recline behind the bar and busy herself with her drinks before eventually calling out somewhat timidly towards the others. "'Nerva? Zee? You two still out there?"

[Shadowcaller]

[Silken Whisper]

"I'll locate her and tell her to hurry up." The battle sister assures the luxan before starting to head towards inside. The less time they had to spend here, the better.

Then she heard what she assumed to be her name being called out and twitched.

Minerva was starting to get frustrated. Not only were these xenos and heretics very nature a disgrace in the eyes of the emperor but they had no proper respect for his servants. She was armed to the teeth and in a power armor. Would she she really need to start purging some of their numbers before they started to call her by her proper name?

"I'm here! Regrouping with Zee!" She calls back after a moment of internal debate.

Presumably the two of them will be able to find Zee together.

[Petroldactyl - Lobby]

Kelligan nods and fumbles with a cigar in his hand. It doesn't look like he's going to light it. Just appear he's moving it between his fingers as he speaks. "You got just the right idea, pal. Skyside is changing and not for the better. People are starting to rock the boat, or city in this case, and when that happens people are always going to fall off. I'd be more than willing to have my people, my soldiers, make sure it's the troublemakers that get thrown off instead of the other way around. All you need is to point us in the right direction and we'll deal with it. No questions asked." Kelligan leans back in his chair, still holding the cigar, when he suddenly seem to realize something. "You want to make an example out of someone or is this more a subter-fudge thing? Off the records and all." One of his eyebrows raise as he looks at 'King Coal'.

[5a Violista]

[Company Town - Hospital]

Putting it that way makes sense. The clerk's not allowed to say anything on this topic.
But...
It's good to know that the guy they rescued? He knows something. That's why he was attacked.

"I see," the bunnygirl says. "Yeah, we'll try to get everything done as soon as possible," she promises. "When this guy-" the one they brought in "-is stable, could you give us a call?"

Carlie pulls out a business card that has a phone number on it. The business card has the name 'Holly' on it, and not Carlie, but that's fine. She hands it over like it's hers anyway. It is one of her phone numbers, after all, so it should work out. "Just this number. We want to make sure he's fine, and if there's anyone else who has questions for us about what happened."

And it might be good to question him, too, possibly.

[Morty]

[Machine Dump]

Olvisin stands for a moment with her mouth open, before snapping back to attentiveness.

"Hang on a second, you're going to rob a hospital?"

She knows this is Skyside and she's not much of a vigilante or hero, but she feels she can't just let someone leave after saying that.

[Earl of Purple]

Machine Dump

"What? Oh, rob a hospital? Well, not immediately. I mean, I could, but an MRI machine- even dismantled- wouldn't fit on my sled. And I'm not sure I'm carrying any guns right now... Ah! Here's one." The madman reaches into a pocket and pulls out a cheap plastic water pistol. It's been taken apart and reassembled, but filled with wires and circuits, visible through the clear plastic. He holds it up, pointing it at the sky, to show it to Olvisin.

[Rebonack]

[Doom Door]

Nothing quite like using weapons from the armory of heaven to ruin someone's day.

The blast of fungal spores quickly begins eating away at the fish things, leaving behind a caustic patch of fungal growth. It looks like a blighted wound upon the clean lines and orderly arrangement of the park. The world around Eao seems to almost recoil from the weapon's touch, a shudder rippling through the landscape. The fountain begins to sag and decay, the gossamer and glamour that compose it rapidly unwinding. Before long there isn't even a fountain there any longer. Just a few chunks of dull stone, mud, and scattered fish bones.

Weird.

Nothing else attacks, though.

At least not yet.

The dancing pixies have all fled at this point, narrowly avoiding getting caught in the weapon's blast.

Hopefully they didn't take to warn something worse about her presence here. That fort is still nearby. As is the giant checker board.

Something else has appeared as well, though. A void has opened up in the air where the pinnacle of the fountain once was. A black, dripping pinprick of darkness, think globs of absolute nothingness seeping out of it and splatting against the ground. Eao will feel a deep sense of unease from the malignant looking non-substance.

What does she do?

[Morty]

[Company Town - Hospital]

In retrospect, Calm Reed should have expected this answer. People in places like this aren't going to talk about anything that might have even a whiff of trouble, or attract attention to them. Staying unimportant and overlooked is how they survive.

"We appreciate the concern," she says. She doesn't add that there's probably little in this place that could actually harm her. They wouldn't believe it. "We'll make sure to avoid... wooden dimes."

[bc56]

Doom Door

This place is wrong. Terrifyingly wrong. Eao wants to get out of here. She runs back towards the door. But if her suspicions are correct, it won't be there anymore. At the same time, she reverts back to her true form, flesh warping and twisting and growing, her dress melting into scales covering her body, her hands becoming hooves, wings tearing out of her back, and her face becoming like that of a deer. Eyes open across her body, the seraph's true nature revealed.

[Lord Magtok]

Olympian Extractions - Factory Floor

Spoiler

Show

[Olympian Extractions - Factory Floor]

Mr. Schmidt glances towards the cyborg across from him and offers a pained smile, his hands wringing together as he murmurs a quiet response. "Ah, well, uh. I'll keep that in mind, mister." There's an awkward exhalation of air before the man steps forward, leading Magtok up two levels of wrought iron staircase and onto a metal balcony. "You'll want to mind your step, handrails give way fairly easily. Lovely view of the loading dock from up here, though." Mr. Schmidt produces a small iron key before pressing it into the balcony door, brushing rust off of his hands as he pulls at a battered handle.

As the iron door creaks open, Mr. Schmidt steps on inside, his dress shoes clattering against the iron walkway beyond. He'll turn back and gesture for Magtok to follow, wiping sweat off of his brow as he does so. "Alright, mister big-shot. Right this way." The inside of the factory itself is sweltering; the handrails themselves are slick with condensation. Below, scores of coal-smeared workers clad all in battered vests and sweatstained cotton topshirts haul carts of coal across the factory floor while other, slightly better dressed men (and women) operate huge steel refinery-mechanisms.

Without a word, Mr. Schmidt leads Magtok down the catwalk and towards yet another door which appears to lead into a chamber which protrudes over the factory floor. One side of the chamber is fitted with enormous, grimey windows through which an individual could theoretically watch over the floor. Mr. Schmidt will knock twice at the iron door before stepping away and cupping his hands over his mouth. "Your visitors 'ere, foreman-miss!" The door opens from the inside with a hiss, revealing a sparsely decorated office whose tin walls and wrought-iron floor seem most uninviting.

The warm air is miserably still within this office, for the fan which gently turns overhead fails to generate much of a gust at all. Iron bookshelves line the walls of the chamber, as does a cabinet filled with unlabeled bottles of (presumably) alcohol. A cheap rug serves as the room's centerpiece, and its southernmost wall is dominated by a massive chalkboard upon which dozens of tally marks and numbers have been messily scrawled. A stained wooden desk rests in one corner of the room, behind which a large woman reclines. She's quite tall, with broad-shoulders and muscular arms.

Although her face is scarred and smeared with soot, her clothes are of fine quality and consist of a white dress shirt, a matching pin-striped vest, a scarlet tie, and a pair of brown trousers. She runs a large hand through her short, curly white hair before gesturing dismissively towards the door and barking an order in that direction. "The security guy, yeah. I know. Send him in."

Spoiler: Foreman

Show

Magtok isn't sure whether to feel drastically overdressed or underdressed in his stupid purple robe. Either way, this doesn't really work. Let's switch to the suit instead. He tugs on his sleeve, and relatively tamer grey suit with violet tie is suddenly in its place. There we go, that's better. When all the soot and grime and awfulness bleeds onto his clothes, as it surely will at some point today, it'll be on spilling onto the suit, a garment he's nowhere near as emotionally attached to as his trademark purple robes. The downside is that someone might ask some very rude and nosy questions when he inexplicably doesn't sweat even a drop while wearing this stuffy suit, but what are the odds of anyone looking that closely? Plus, nobody's really going to care if you can't perspire because this isn't your real body, Mags. That's your business, they have their own stuff to worry about.

"So you'd be Ms. Meg, then," he remarks, striding in with his hands in his pockets, mismatched eyes scanning every little corner of the oppressively awful office before settling upon the terrifying foreman-miss. Schmidt might be just some mere mortal, but this one? She's definitely some sort of mythological figure. Magtok could absolutely see her feeding someone their own fingers, for sure. Of course, he's not too rattled by any of that nonsense. He's met a lot of people like that over the years, and handling the recruitment paperwork for a lot of AMEN's incoming members back in the day meant he got to see a lot of it, too. So very often, this or that brat with something to prove would exsanguinate or disembowel one of the minions just to prove themselves the coolest, toughest baddie in the room, the baddest bitch on the block and the next legendary Nexus supervillain. Almost a shame how they all turned out in the end. Ashes, dust, little bits of data saved on the tin man's databanks. The lone and level sands stretch far away.

[Hattish Thing]

Olympian Extractions - Factory Floor

The woman behind the desk purses her lips for an uncomfortable moment or so, her black eyes boring into the cyborg's own. A toothy smirk forms upon her soot-smeared face before swiftly fading away. From her seat, she gestures for Magtok to come closer. "Why don't you come have a seat, old boy?" The instant that Magtok (presumably) sits down within the uncomfortable chair at the other end of the desk, she rises up out of her own. Her broad, blunt fingers tap at the desk for a second before she steps away towards a nearby desk, upon which an antique cylinder phonograph has been set. "How's about some tunes?"

Before she even gives the cyborg a second to answer, the cylinder phonograph comes to life seemingly of its own accord. A second later, the sound of the jazzy, mournful little dirge fills the room entirely. Ms. Meggie retrieves a pair of glasses on her way back to the desk, setting one down in front of the cyborg. Then, the door into the office slams shut across the room. Should Magtok turn his head to glance at the door, when he faces his glass once again, he'll find it mysteriously full with a fine, rich brandy. The foreman-miss settles down into her chair once again before taking a sip at her drink.

"I ain't here to punch the bag, no. I wanna start this off on the level with you, hun." She makes an uncomfortable sound with her mouth, as if sucking a lemon that isn't there, before continuing. "This industry ain't no cakewalk. It's hard. It's cruel. It ain't for nobody soft. But ain't nothing good ever been easy, no?" She cracks her knuckles. "Half of all the juice on this miserable little rock comes from here." A frown forms upon her face. "An' sure, some folk ain't likin' how we run things, but there's no denyin' that without us, this part of town ain't nothing." Her frown just deepens here. "An' yet, there are still some who think we oughta shut down, that we ain't no good for the people here."

"People been talkin', there's been some threats. It's becoming clearer that we need to up security."

"That's why my boss wants you here."

---

[Company Town - Hospital]

The clerk will nod timidly and accept the card, quickly stuffing it into his pocket.

"Ladies, if there's nothing else, I've much to do. Enjoy the rest of your day."

---

[Petroldactyl - Lobby]

With a dark little chuckle, Hades shakes his head. "Nah, nah. Nothing like that. I've something a little more legitimate in mind." He purses his lips before continuing. "I need a police force. Riot breakers. Brave men and women willing to quell the occasional fit of misguided rage." He glances down at his platinum cane once more. "I'm not interested in chaos."

"I want you to build my kingdom for me."

---

[Silken Whisper]

Larza sighs, leaning up against the bar as she sips at her drink. "Urk. We have to regroup up there? I found the good stuff down here." She wasn't going to just leave finds like this behind!

"Trust me, you two'll wanna try this stuff!"

[5a Violista]

[Company Town - Hospital]

Investigator Carlie turns and move away from the hospital secretary.

"Talking around in here probably won't be productive," Carlie says to Calm Reed, hinting at the fact that - judging by the nurse-secretary's response - every move they make is likely being watched through cameras and everything they say is being listened to. Carlie is recommending they leave to a better - unwatched - place to discuss what's going on.

Then, she adds one more thing: "But, after all, you are my bodyguard so I'll make sure to stick with you." However, if Calm Reed wants to go looking through the hospital records, or leave and try another angle, or wait for the guy they helped to get back from surgery so they can interrogate him - she'll follow.

[Arkhosia]

Meowstaken IdentiFies

With only a few inches between her and her mark's face, Elizabeth really should have been able to realise that the woman in front of her was not in fact the Mara she had been trying to find. However, other more pressing things were occupying the catgirl's panicked mind and distracting her from coming to this realisation. Namely, trying to find a lie that wouldn't result in getting beaten further. Or worse.

"I, uh, well... a co-worker. I thought you were a co-worker of mine! That was the first lie that popped into the hacker's head, and she seized the idea and ran with it, the urgency to get out of this situation getting in the way of her ability to think clearly. … Someone called Sasha. They look like you, that's all!"

Meowstaken IdentiFies

"And you follow your coworkers into Skyside alleys while trying not to be seen?" The woman clearly doesn't buy it. "Stop lying. Tell me who you really think I you're tailing. I'm not gonna beat you up for telling the truth," Fidelia assures frankly. she doesn't lower her knife, but the aggression in her tone fades somewhat when she says this.

[UncleWolf]

[Manor Lab]

Anri, who is rather squeamish recoils and turns her head before Nora even turns her head around.
"No, that's fine, I don't need to see. As long as it looks normal at the end of things I don't really care at this point. I...am getting rather sick of mechanical limbs. But I guess if you can't groom it to have any it's that or slither around like a Hutt. It really is a shame I can't grant wishes for myself." She doesn't really think Tellysandra or Nora would burn one of theirs for her sake, though that might actually work. She also has no idea how they'd go extracting any essence from her but that's something for the warlock to explain or figure out.

[Manor Lab]

Tellysandra have no doubt seen such things many times but still wrinkles her nose in distaste as Nora explains. "You're the one making the calls, Anri. I just provide the means and Nora is the expert." She doesn't seem to have anything else to say regarding Nora's suggestion. It would be a great deal cheaper than making a pristine temple body which she constructed for her angels and demons so she couldn't complain.

Manor Lab

"There's possibilities of grafted biological limbs, but mechanical would be a good short term solution as such limbs get designed and grown and attached." Norael advises after a few moments of thoughts. "So...I've your permission to go ahead and make a few calls? And how is this going to be paid? I can get a pretty extensive discount on this, but it might cost at least some money. Particularly the consciousness jar."

[Shadowcaller]

[Manor Lab]

"Don't worry too much about the fees, Nora. I'll cover them as long as you keep them within reason." The archwarlock declares with a dismissive gesture. "I'll trust in your expertise in this matter. So is there anything I can do for you Anri or are you fine with Nora taking care of everything?"

[Deathkeeper]

[Manor Lab]

Anri continues to look pensive as she skitters in place, rotating back and forth in an oddly human tic for her arachnid legs.
"It all sounds fine as long as the results work. I am afraid I find myself hopelessly out of my depth. I don't know how my magic works, especially not now. I don't know about the costs and timeframes and all such things. So...I trust you, Nora. And I think I'll be alright, Ma'am. I just can't pretend I really understand what's going to be happening." she admits.

[Morty]

[Company Town - Hospital]

Calm Reed is silent for a while as she assesses the situation. She could stay here and press those people for information, but that would be counterproductive in the end. They can't make enemies yet. She'll nod curtly and turn to follow Carlie out.

[Shadowcaller]

[Petroldactyl - Lobby]

"Ah, so pretty much the same thing. Just more long-term and stable, I like it." Kelligan declares while leaning back in his seat, contemplating the possibilities.
"Which means we're talking about a longer contract too." He observes while tapping his finger against the desk. "I think the gals and the pals will like this a lot. Are there uniforms included here or are we supposed to provide those ourselves?"

[Streets of Slavery - Jaahlyn]

A satyr that the owners of this establishment might be familiar with is once again approaching their headquarters. Like before she's very politely asks the guards if she could see the owners once more as she have a message for them.

[5a Violista]

[Company Town -far enough away from any obvious listeners]

After leaving, when she feels like it's safe, Carlie turns to Calm Reed. "I hope she contacts us," she says. "I'd much rather have her be disgusted with the company practices but unable to do anything about it, than her being a willing participant in keeping people quiet. That'd make this a lot easier."

She stretches.
"So what's our new goal?" she asks, partially to help think and partially to let Calm Reed know what direction she's thinking so that she can also come up with ideas. "If we get access to employee files, that probably would tell us what to do. Video recordings maybe, as well. If we find someone in the know who's willing to help us, that would also be a success. Anything else?"

[Morty]

[Company Town]

"You seem to have covered our available options accurately," Calm Reed admits. "Although... if we could catch the kidnappers in the act, it would obviously be a very direct line to them. But it is unlikely we will, unless we are really fortunate. Alternately, investigating a scene of a kidnapping. That is somewhat more likely, if still a long shot."

[Earl of Purple]

Slave Street

As before, Jaahlyn is hurried to the security office, where the hagspawn Raodan the Reject greets her. "Hello again. How can we help you?" He smiles, though it's not a particularly attractive sight. He's got juandiced skin, a lot of bodyhair, small eyes, a piggish nose and crooked teeth. His arms are too long for his frame, and despite the suit he's wearing being clearly tailored for him, it still doesn't fit properly.

The Guild doesn't have any obvious headquarters, just a lot of shops where people are bought and sold. Any asking for leaders are directed to the security office, where usually they wait for a while in the company of several bulky orcs in kevlar with baseball bats.

[UncleWolf]

Manor Lab

Norael nods appreciatively at being given the freedom to operate but stops as if smacked right between the eyes as a thought comes to her. "Wait, Djinn magic, right? Pardon if it is insensitive, but do you mean things like granting wishes? Any drawbacks to them like a monkey's paw?" She considers it a moment as a spark of something seems to come to her eyes. There's a flash of greed, but also curiosity and perhaps even a touch of mad genius there. It's almost certainly not a good look to her eyes, but she was an angel, right?

[Deathkeeper]

[Manor Lab]

Anri looks like she would grin if she could.
"So far, I've only done that to someone once. They tried to mug me, and used one of their wishes to drug me. I'm sure she's very happy with what I gave her regardless." She shakes her head.
"And that's the reason I'm a vending machine. Regardless, I can change people, things. I can't rewrite whole cities or anything, but I can grant wishes. Just not like this. This...chassis is currently using all my powers to make me into an infinite supply of booze." She would very much like to get out of it.

[Shadowcaller]

[Manor Lab]

"There's a whole hierarchy of djinn which I never delved too closely into. But they all have different capabilities and motives which is the reason many think of them as 'monkey paws'. Among those djinn who can grant wishes some aren't even able to decide just how the wish is granted while others intentionally tries to mess things up for their patrons. So it's less about the wish itself and more about identifying the djinn granting it." Telly explains with a look at Nora. "But Anri would be one of the good ones I hope."