Chapter 9.3
(Part 1)
Bonus Round, Part 2:
[X]
Bonus Point: Backing(PRT) ●●●●●
What's Old Is New:
[X] Saki maintains her old Secret/Civilian Identity
Only Skin Deep:
[X]
Saki's 'Everyday' Look: Post-Surgery Saki ("Professionally Pretty," App 4)
Spiritual Recovery Efforts:
[X]
Push SoPA Sometimes: Philadelphia Crime HIGH, Reconstruction LOW, SoPA Full Recovery ETA 4 Weeks
Too Fancy For This World:
[X] Let Lord Grasp rest and recharge in TwinSpace regularly, allow him to come and go when he pleases.
- [x]
Stunt: New York has seen many strange things on its streets to date. But a car sized scorpion amiably trundling through it's streets, bedecked in brilliant logos and stopping every so often to examine points of interest with a bemused Clockblocker waving atop was not something you see on the typical Tuesday evening.
Free Actions:
[X]
EOA - Free Action: "Current status, Sergeant Powell?" "Weaver. Glad you're here. Cape's on the top floor of the complex with hostages. Possible Master. Too many sight lines to catch them unaware." She nodded grimly, turning to the troopers with her and touching them each with her fingertip. "Don't worry, Sergeant. We'll handle this," she said before they all vanished from sight.
[X]
FPoP - Free Action: "Wyld was hesitant with Bulldozer's... condition, but... s-said maybe-," Willow started. A large cerulean hand gently enveloped her fragile shoulder, stopping its shaking. "The tree bends but does not break, young Willow. Nor does it stand alone." Vajra turned to the wall of teleconferencing Case-53s. Each needful. Each hoping. "I believe the PRT will heed me better now."
[X]
WoRI - Free Action: "Oww. Thanks, Saki," Missy said as the other Ward lowered her onto the sofa. "They got the worst out, but I'm still sore in places. I just wish the Common Room had better furniture." Saki felt a pressure on her prison charm, and a smile crept up her face. "Um. I know someone who can help with that, Missy."
XP Expenditures:
[X] EOA - 4 XP - Occult ●●●●●
[X] WoRI - 2 XP - Investigation (Body Language ●●○)
[X] FPoP - 4XP - Presence ●●●○○
***
According to the Wards Handbook - the dryest, most boring book you've ever read, despite being filled with instructions for life-and-death situations and terrifying cape-life realities - Master/Stranger Protocols are designed to be used when someone is suspected of being "compromised." The "Level" usually describes what type of "containment" is to be used, ranging from one to six; Level One is basically a full ID scan with some questions about the person's activities over the last few days, and Level Five is around three months of genetic, tissue, and brain scans combined with constant questions about your entire life - including your memory and reactions to the containment process.
Level Six was introduced to deal with Simurgh victims, but it's not in the Wards Handbook. When you and the others had asked Bladedancer what it was, her smile had fallen quickly.
"That's just a bomb dressed up as a friend," she'd muttered, looking across the training mat to nothing in particular. "Kill 'em before they blow up."
After that training session, Missy had wondered aloud to your group if that was why cape casualties during Simurgh fights was so high. Nobody had answered beyond some muted hums of consideration, but Taylor had looked especially grim for the rest of the day.
Which… well, when you'd heard the full story of what Taylor went through at the Cradle, you were more surprised that the PRT
hadn't stuck her - and, probably,
you - in a hole for a few months while they tried to figure out what had actually happened.
There'd been plenty of witnesses and recordings of the Simurgh's dive-bomb (literally) into the crater, since it'd generated a shockwave that could be heard up in the Refugee Camp thirty miles away. The various devices in Taylor's suit recorded nothing but static during the whole fight, apparently, which… surprised exactly no one, really, and the other PRT and geological monitoring gear (those that survived the shockwave) were similarly blank.
Investigation into the crater lake itself had uncovered bits and pieces that might have been the 'hand' - created from metal support beams and wires - that the Simurgh had used to capture Taylor in the fight, but that had only been a consolation prize; the PRT and Dragon hadn't been able to recover the upper torso of the Simurgh that she had torn off herself near the end of the fight. Though they'd initially worried about there still being remnants of something that can
dissolve Endbringers contaminating the area, the search had ultimately been called off after they realized the whole mass had sunk through, boiled, and dissolved one hundred feet of rock before plunging into the still-cooling magma pool under the crater itself.
Dragon had stepped in at the time to provide secondary confirmation of at least part of the story - the whole, 'she tore herself in half and then teleported Legend to a different dimension, and Eidolon had to go find him' - which had been why Taylor had been allowed to return to Philadelphia to help with the final part of the Slaughterhouse Nine fight, but…
"...-PRT's investigation remains ongoing, with their 'Slaughterhouse Aftermath Committee' - as it's being called - still asking for anyone that was affected by the final events of last Tuesday to contact them at-"
You turn off the TV, sighing as the earnest-seeming news anchor spouts off the same line you've heard at least a dozen times in the last two days.
At Master/Stranger Protocol Level Three, the only entertainment choice you have is whether the TV is muted and/or dimmed low enough to allow you to sleep. "No foreign materials" means no books or clothes (outside of the PRT-issue white jumpsuit), and "no ability to communicate with the outside" means no ability to use the Internet. Everything is being watched and recorded, so that the PRT can compare it to your behavior from before... which means that even the bathroom is probably filled with cameras and microphones.
Taylor would have gone
crazy if she'd been put in Level Three (or higher!) containment. Though, even her Level Two containment was basically in name-only (something about the Youth Guard?) - she got Internet access and all sorts of Tinkertech to play with… while you've been stuck with ABC Channel 4 and its absolutely Maker-awful programming. Well, ok, Two Rogues and A Baby is pretty funny, and Capes of Our Lives is still the best soap, but beyond those and the news you've been bored out of your mind.
If you'd been allowed to meditate like how Taylor and Prayer did, then maybe it would have been easier, but they'd asked you specifically to avoid doing that just in case your… uh,
'make lots of smoke and get all glowy' thing does anything like Taylor's used to.
But Legend, Chevalier, and Miss Militia had all asked nicely, and Prayer said it was necessary. What were you going to do? Say 'no' to that?
Okay, so, you did sort of say that if you went in then they had to deal with Lord Grasp while you were in containment… though it was phrased as more, "oh and here's Lord Grasp bye!" as you tossed his cat-sized form at Prayer while the door to your cell closed.
You giggle to yourself at the memory of his flailing squawk of protest and the muffled shouts of alarm before the seals engaged. You'd belatedly realized that he might try to tear through the door to get back to you, which made you worry for a few minutes, but your two days of containment have been scorpion-free.
Sighing to yourself again and falling back onto the (surprisingly comfortable) mattress, you look up at the blank white ceiling of your single-occupancy cell. Your lunch slid in through the dispenser on the wall… two hours ago? Three? You should be done pretty soon-
There's a pop in your ears as you feel the pressure in the room drop ever-so-slightly, coinciding with a light hiss from where the door into the room has been hidden for the past two days. The smooth, bare, white ceramic wall suddenly sports a door-sized indentation, which immediately afterwards slides open to reveal-
"Warden!"
-a very agitated-looking silver-and-gold scorpion taking up most of the doorway. Behind him is Prayer, though she's wearing an armored costume passingly-similar in style to Alexandria's, except full of purples, whites, and blues instead of the Triumvirate member's grey-and-black coloration. She's even got a white shoulder-cape! You and Sakura wanted one of those!
Despite being the size of a small car, Lord Grasp glides through the doorway without even touching the sides, then skitters past the small table in the middle of the cell, before rearing up on his hind legs and supporting himself with his pincers on either side of you - allowing him to meet your eyes with his own glowing, red gemstone ones.
"Never do that again!"
You blink, wide-eyed and shocked still at his indignant tone.
"W-wha-?"
"I am a priceless weapon forged by the King of Craftsmen and his hands, the Jadeborn! My like has never been seen before on this world, and it will never see another!"
"Uh-"
"You do not toss me like some sack of grain!" he hisses, punctuated by twin puffs of steam that erupt from holes behind his eyes. "
I have had to work non-stop in these past two days to undo the damage you have done to my apparent worth!"
Your mouth snaps shut with a click as you blink a few more times before letting your adrenaline drain with a sigh. From the doorway, you think you hear Prayer hum in disappointment as Lord Grasp continues to
literally fume.
"And no whisking me away to that dreary dimension, either!" he continues on, shimmying on his back legs and flexing his forelegs while raising a claw to point at your face.
"I am more than capable of blocking such a tactic with my own charms, if I so choose."
...ok, yes, you were about to do that again, and you're trying not to scowl so hard at being caught before you could spring it. But wait-
"Why didn't you block it before?"
The glow in his eyes shifts from a brilliant crimson to a lighter, muted purple, while the rest of him stills as he recoils slowly.
"I… realized that I may - may - have overstepped with regards to my comments about your pre-Exalted form."
"Really."
"Not that I was wrong, mind you," he dismisses with a wave of his claw, though his voice is still anxious, "
but I should have realized that a fresh Exalt like yourself would still be emotionally attached to your previous, lack- ah, less empowered form."
From the door, Prayer clears her throat - a sound that is both arresting and harmonic, oddly.
"Ah… yes," he starts, the glow in his faceted eyes cutting out briefly in what you figure must be his own form of a blink.
"By which I mean that I… did commit a grievous breach of propriety, and you should take this as your first etiquette lesson in what not-"
"Lord Grasp."
Her flat tone somehow sounds like a vault of crystals humming in disapproval. It's the strangest thing, and the opulent mechanical scorpion in front of you practically wilts at the sound.
"Warden-"
"It's alright, Lord Grasp," you snicker, patting the claw still resting to your left on the mattress.
"I know."
"Ah!" he perks up, looking at you carefully for a moment before turning his upper half towards Prayer and gesturing towards you grandiosely.
"Did I not say that she would understand my intent without needing to debase myself so? I am only bound to the best!"
You can't help but smile at that, which seems to satisfy Prayer's silent, questioning gaze to you - eliciting a nod of assent from the giant blue woman and a satisfied huff from your gem-coated companion.
"Now that that's settled, Warden…" he muses, turning back to you while twitching a bit,
"I find myself growing tired of this... discomfiting, barren world. If you would be so kind…?"
"Oh," you blink, remembering how he had complained at first about what Earth-Bet felt like to him. Has he felt like that this whole time? Oops.
"I'm sorry! Yes, of course!"
"Thank you, Warden," he sighs in relief as you raise a hand to him, though he stops you with a large pincer just as you're about to port him away.
"Do you have a way for me to get your attention whilst inside? I do have some appointments to keep."
"Errr, I think I noticed when you tried to use the portal before?" you muse, frowning as you remember what it felt like when he'd been poking about on his own. You'd almost thought there was a prickling on the back of your mind, but-
"I was just ignoring you before," you nod, both to him and yourself.
"I'll pay attention next time."
"Yes, well," he sighs, waving his claw in understanding,
"I suppose that will do for now. First Prayer of Perfection, please keep her safe until my return."
"Of course, Lord Grasp."
He bows slightly in response, and then you
pull - briefly tearing open reality with a swirling vortex of black and white hexagons of varying sizes for barely a few seconds before it all vanishes with a crackling pop of electricity. When the effect is gone, so is your car-sized companion.
"Wait…" you blink, looking to Prayer in delayed realization.
"Appointments?"
***