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Enter a Spectre

"You may wish to strap in, my lord, this could be a short trip." Ruane pulled his own straps around his shoulders and snapped them in place as he deftly maneuvered the Grinning Spectre around satellites and slower moving traffic.

Nuro climbed into the co-pilot's seat and leaned forward to tap at the display. "I thought you said you've flown here before." Ahead of them, Coruscant loomed. Up close and definitely not a holorecording. The visible defenses were more intimidating than Nuro had given the Republic credit for.

"I have. Once. We weren't exactly worried about being arrested at that point. Darth Malgus was causing a bit of scene at the Jedi Temple at the time." Ruane slowed the freighter and reached for the comm. "I guess we'll see how good my impersonation of a Republic accent is."

Nuro tucked his lekku closer around him. His face was still colored with bruises and he gave Ruane an irritated look. "Well, don't look at me, I contributed a smuggler that would have gotten us past this."

"He ran off before I could even raise his pay, my lord." Ruane thumbed the comm and plastered on a wide smile. "Coruscant Control, this the Grinning Spectre out of Nar Shaddaa, requesting permission to land at the Senate Spaceport." He held up a hand to silence Nuro, watching the comm tensely.

"What's your cargo, Grinning Spectre?" The voice on the other end sounded bored and Ruane couldn't blame him. He'd probably had this same conversation several times already today.

( This got long... )

Deception (RP for Phinea)

It was a few days after talking to Phinea that Darth Exedo's Fury-class Imperial Interceptor, recently renamed Tyth's Fury, settled onto its landing pad outside the Nar Shaddaa headquarters of Research Group Samekh. The former casino, hovering above Nar Shaddaa, was safely away from the worst of the territorial disputes below. Shipping crates and boxes still littered the lower floor and landing bay of the old casino, as the laboratory staff continued to unpack. Setekh could never afford one of the floating former palaces, but the Sith that came back from Zakuul several weeks ago had been slowly recovering all of Arannek's hidden wealth. Brand new Zakuulian computer stations gleamed in the harsh laboratory light as droids ferried crates to and fro and laboratory staff scrambled to get patients set up in the new medical bay. Subjects were present in all but two of the kolto tanks.

Darth Exedo looked on impassively, Nuro'tarkona on his heels. The impassive mask crafted to look like a technological bone mask gave nothing of Darth Exedo's mood away, and Nuro'tarkona had long since given up trying to guess at it. The Sith that came back from imprisonment on Zakuul was not the same Sith he'd known before. There was a new darkness to him, a great deal more patience, but a seething well of malice and evil that Setekh never had. His connection to the dark side was stronger than Setekh's had ever been, and something else was with him, something foreign but even more powerful...Nuro'tarkona wasn't sure what it was, but he was sure that he no longer wanted to cross his master. Given a choice, he'd prefer not to be on the same planet as his master. The few times he'd seen Setekh's familiar face instead of one of a dozen different masks he wore did nothing to ease Nuro'tarkona's suspicion that it was no longer Setekh Feraan that he served.

"I suppose we ought to travel to the surface to meet your Jedi, apprentice." It had been a point of contention between them, Nuro'tarkona's concern for the Jedi. Darth Exedo wanted to know why he cared so much for the enemy and Nuro'tarkona had refused to answer, even when subjected to pain. But the Sith that Nuro'tarkona served now was more patient that Setekh ever was, and instead of torturing the Twi'lek until he died or talked, he relented. At least at first. Nuro'tarkona had a bad feeling about this meeting, but he dared not even send a warning to Phinea. Darth Exedo would know. He always did. Darth Exedo looked over at the cyborg Zabrak unpacking crates of biochemical supplies. "Be sure the droids link the new computers to my terminal in my lab and then get started on unpacking and assembling the living spaces here. I'd like not to spend another night in rented accommodations or on board the ship. I get enough of that among the Alliance. Don't allow the 2V unit anywhere near the living spaces until its memory has been wiped. It's been acting suspiciously lately."

The Zabrak bowed his head. "Yes, my lord."

Darth Exedo motioned to Nuro'tarkona and they moved through the labs to the speeder pad above. Both chose light, sleek models for the short speeder trip to the Promenade below them and it wasn't long before they left those speeders in the care of the droid manning the speeder platform. Darth Exedo didn't head towards the cantina, but instead towards the opposite end of the Promenade, towards where the Republic representatives usually congregated. Nuro'tarkona stayed close but behind him, far enough back that when he wanted to talk, Darth Exedo had to stop and turn to see him. "Apprentice, you've been quiet. Is there something on your mind?"

The words were innocuous. Even the tone was neutral, but Nuro'tarkona's pale green skin paled even more. He shook his head. "No, my lord. Just wondering if she'll show up."

"You still haven't told me why you're so concerned for a Jedi. Even with Zakuul's forces hanging over us all," literally, in the case of Nar Shaddaa, where a hulking battle station could just barely be seen through the moon's pollution-tinged atmosphere, "that is highly out of character for you."

Nuro'tarkona shook his head, refusing to speak, and Darth Exedo sighed. He clenched his hand, and Nuro'tarkona could feel a pressure on his throat. Not enough to choke, not yet, but enough to remind him that his master was not pleased with him. The Twi'lek's skin paled even more and his lekku twitched as he tried to maintain a stance as impassive as his master's and failed. That had never been Setekh's choice of punishment. Lightning, perhaps, but not choking. Nuro'tarkona looked around them, anywhere but at the Sith that pretended to be his master and was too powerful to call out on it.

How I Didn't Meet Your Mummy [Peace, Miklos, Vimes]

The first few times Peace had gone to Egypt, she had complained. Loudly. Her skin had burnt and peeled, the small smattering of freckles across her cheeks became a little more defined, and she found sand in places sand should never be. It had also put her off traditional Egyptian food for a while. Still! She was glad that the briefing she’d been given was with familiar names and no one who would drive her crazy by not being announced.

Sadly, despite her hopes, she was not going to Egypt, where it would not be chilly except at night. No, her debriefing had been very clear – wait for her teammates at the Agartha portal on the Savage Coast. Peace rested her head against a rock face. The town was more or less abandoned now, and really, if they wanted to be honest, all the factions were waiting for people to die out. It would make cleanup easier, really.

Oooh, she thought, pulling her hood over her head to keep her ears warm in the chilly September night air, “Not nice thoughts.” She supposed that the higher ups had decided to send her out before she was rendered more or less useless the entire month of October. She really couldn’t blame them, in that regard and tapped at her phone’s screen, growing bored. Somewhere, a wendigo shrieked its displeasure with something.

[Open] Watershed

Hotels were always strange for Peace. There was, of course, work to be done. Expectations as a member of the Illuminati to be maintained (do order room service, do not order pizza), while she waited for her assignment to come trickling down. Miklos was busy, had been busy for a while, and while Peace was generally glad to not have to shove her hands into someone’s body, relive their memories, it was easy to get bored. Who knew where Anna and Calen had gotten off to? Since their break up, it was awkward to deal with either one of them. In fact, she hadn't even seen Anna, having been told to go to Agartha first and take the nearest portal to their targeted city.

God-in-Heaven, was she ever bored.

She spun around in the chair, clutching her knees to her chest and letting the centrifugal force move her ever-faster, one foot on the floor, kicking the carpet. It was nice to let her deep blue hair just fly around her head sometimes, instead of pinned up into a fancy side bun. She watched hours of mindless TV, then shut it off when the commercials started to hurt her eyes. Peace slept, off and on, unsure of how to handle this free time without Sir Pugsley barking to be let out for a potty break, or lick her nose for attention, or curl up in the curve of her legs as she slept and let out a little puggle sigh of content.

Really, if she had to admit it, Peace was kind of jealous of her dog’s ability to just be. No responsibilities (but, then, she had so few), nothing like the End of Days to worry about. No swallowing a bee. It must’ve been great to be a dog.

As she dozed off, she heard a click at the door as the magnetized lock came undone and immediately rolled off the bed and under it, glad for the thinness of her body, how easily she fit. Maybe now she wouldn’t have to be so bored. Her breathing stilled and she waited to see who it was that had decided to come breaking into her room with no announcement.

This probably would work out better for her, she thought in hindsight, if she'd been dressed properly in clothes and not sleeping shorts and a t-shirt.

Back to New York

"Thank you for your help, sheriff. I need to get this back to my people, now." Omar patted a plastic tub that he'd been given. It was decidedly smaller than he'd hoped for, but it couldn't be helped. He supposed he should feel lucky that he got as much back as he did, considering the condition he'd found the bodies in. The explosion that killed the demons that the Phoenician ran into had also destroyed the bodies, leaving a mixed up, charred mess. He'd salvaged the most likely pieces to be identified.

Truthfully, though, he felt cheated. The first promise in a long time of a decent meal, and the fool had to get himself blown up around demons. He could still just eat the meat and see what happened. He'd done it before. However, he highly doubted anyone in New York wanted to deal with him when he was sick, hallucinating, and lashing out at demons only he could see. The backlash from consuming demonic flesh struck him as something that would cause all kinds of migraines for corporate.

A method of analysis was in order, then. Fortunately, he had an idea of one he could use that was in-house. He brushed at his bare shoulder. Blood caked his shirt and his upper body. Fresh, it stirred his hunger. Old, dried, and stale, it just annoyed him. A bath, maybe, before he headed to the Labyrinth. Or he could just change as he transported himself there. His phone beeped in his pocket and he checked the message. Peace was waiting. No bath, then.

"That's what I was waiting on. Good bye, sheriff. Thank you." He gave her a bow of his head, then headed out of the police station. As he headed into the woods and zombies looked up, testing his scent, just different enough from a human's to give them pause, he disappeared...

...And reappeared in the middle of the lobby of the Labyrinth. He still clutched the plastic tub, but the mess on him was gone, his camouflage exchanged for a neat white suit edged with glowing blue lightning. He let his hair out of its ponytail and ran his fingers through it to straighten it, then headed towards the morgue. Some agents gave him a nod or a greeting, but most kept their distance, sometimes crossing to the other side of the hallway from him. The djinni was something dangerous, something valuable to Geary, was all any of the normal agents really knew. Of course, the handlers had access to more. Geary to more still.

With the body parts safely stowed in the cold, he sat down at a desk in the autopsy room and took out his phone again, tapping out a message, then opening up a game to play. Angry Birds was, perhaps, one of the more annoyingly addictive games he'd played.

Impromptu party

The curiosity shop was long closed by the time Ramerian issued his invitation to Rose and her friends. He still wasn't quite sure why, except that the apartment was stiflingly quiet and for once Munin's antics were more annoying than endearing. When he set the tome aside, he moved immediately to the kitchen, setting out glasses, but left the wine where it would stay cool.

He pulled some cooked lynx meat from the ice box and began to cut it up and arrange it on a plate. He could at least offer them something besides alcohol, even if he wasn't big on non-meat food. He kept an ear out for movement downstairs. There was a rope attached to a bell for after hours deliveries, but he'd prefer not to be caught unaware.

He took a sip from his wine glass and licked his lips. It was good wine, even if it made flying difficult.

Break Ups (and the World) Totally Suck [Calen, Peace, Open]

This wasn't jet lag or whatever else. Insomnia, maybe? Technically he'd gone back in time but no which way you turned it it was the middle of the night. His apartment was a mess. He didn't deny that. He couldn't. It had fallen into neglect since he'd officially-unofficially moved in at Anna's (see: he just brought his shit over there and never left). He did manage to take the trash out and try and move the clutter to the corners but there was nothing he could do about the fact that it was a generally depressing place to live. The bare brick walls and hardwood floors served as a stylish look to some but in his place just looked unfinished. The only thing he had was a massive sound system that looked like it was capable of blowing someone clear across the room using sound alone, a huge television, an impressive looking router, and a futon that alternately served as a couch or a bed. The cover looked surprisingly clean though, all things considered. In fact, the entire place smelled like Febreze.

Upon knowing she was there he buzzed her up and left the door slightly ajar so she could get inside. He tugged his t-shirt down and that was all. It was a fitted black shirt that said the words 'NSP' on the front in a fun-looking font and it matched the dark plaid of the boxers he wore. He wasn't even trying. His hair was in need of a haircut and didn't want to go in any one direction and he seemed not to mind that either. The only thing that seemed unusual was a much too bright and colourful scarf that was wide enough to drape over his shoulders if he wanted to but in most cases he buried his face in it like he was freezing on Everest and sat there. Whatever he was watching on Netflix seemed not to help his mood at all. In one hand he was Swype texting at a feverish pace; probably more of those things he'd regret in the morning. The little water rings on the coffee table were evidence of where he'd had drinks before but in trying to pretend he was a responsible adult he'd thrown them in the trash..

Meeting at Light's Hope

Kirenestus arrived at Light's Hope, seated behind a paladin on a large black netherdrake. The warlock's usual showy robes were nowhere to be seen. Instead, he was covered from head to toe in black. Black tunic, black pants, black cowl around his neck, showing blond hair that was only starting to grow back to its previous length. When he dismounted, he winced in pain and clutched at his side. He limped towards the graveyard behind the chapel, rubbing at his hands as he went.

For his part, Kelenar just watched him go, rubbing at his dragon's neck. He called out at the last minute, "Don't do anything stupid, I'm already having trouble healing you."

Kirenestus waved a hand dismissively. As if he felt like doing anything. Not here, stuck on holy ground that made his skin itch. Fel green tattoos snaked their way down his neck and under his tunic. When he sat down and pulled his gloves off, the same fel green tattoos decorated the scar tissue of his hands. He pulled out a book and wrote a message in a blank page in the back.

When he was finished, he winced and rubbed at other burns on his sides. The holy light that had been healing him had also been taking its toll on his body as he progressed. He closed his eyes and laid his head back against the cool marble to wait.