"Are you going to need any help with all that?" Your landlady speaks up, gesturing at the box in your hands as you haul it up the stairs. The box contains things like beakers, bunsen burners, plastic tubing, and plasma-velocitic warpers. You know, the basics of laboratory equipment.
Of course, you don't actually need a plasma-velocitic warper, let alone two, but what kind of self-respecting super-scientist doesn't have a plasma-velocitic warper? The kind that has ants in their car, that's who.
"No, no," you grunt a reply, the contents of the box shifting as you laboriously drag it up the stairs, "I've got it, I've got it." You don't have it. Your fingers are starting to slip on the cardboard, but you're too deep now to give up.
"You sure?" She presses, walking up to the base of the stairs. "Cause from here it looks like you're gonna drop it."
"Don't worry, I've go-oh shit." The box slipped out of your fingers as you were reaffirming your false statement.
Sandy regards you with a mirthful smirk as she recovers from catching the much-heavier-than-it-looks box. "Good Lord!" She exclaims, handing it back up to you. "You carrying bricks in that thing or what?"
"No," the bricks were in the last box, "just some basic equipment. Like pyroclastic accelerators."
She squints confusedly up at you, mouth slightly ajar. "Pyroclastic accelerators? Why do you have that? I thought you were a chemical super-scientist."
You shrug. "The bunsen burners needed fuel."
"And you decided to use pyroclastic accelerators!?"
You shrug, once more. "I've always used pyroclastic accelerators. What's the big deal?"
"You know that stuff explodes, right?"
"So does biothorium, and we power our cities with that."
"Well, I guess." She sighs, defeated by your superior logic. "Just, be careful? And not super-science careful, I mean normal science careful."
You recoil in shock. Careful? You? That's practically your middle name! Well, one of them at least. "I'll have you know that I'm plenty careful!" You retort, beginning your ascent up the stairs once more.
"Says the lady who uses pyroclastic accelerators!" She calls after you as a parting shot as you shake your head. Food super-scientists, they never understand. Science is about pushing limits and boundaries! Especially including the preconceived notions of safety! You can't break the laws of physics if you adhere to them in the first place!
But, regardless, this should be the last box. Now you can actually get to work setting up the lab…! Wait a second, you're forgetting something, what are you thinking of-oh yeah! You had completely forgotten about them! The Fallen Angel feathers should be in your mailbox.
Taking the stairs two at a time, you casually race to the wall of mailboxes mounted on the street corner. Unlocking the padlock and entering in the combination, you open the little door and find three pristine feathers sitting inside.
You can feel a smile stretching across your face as you pick one up and start examining it. Each feather is a glossy black, with almost a metallic sheen to it. They're each about eight inches long with a pointed tip. The feathers are soft but—as your fingernail finds out to your detriment, shockingly sharp. You're going to have to file that nail down later, the edge it left is far too sharp for you. But, as the sound of metal on metal rings out as you tap it against the gray mailbox, they seem to be pretty tough. It will require more testing, of course, but preliminary expectations have been met!
Quickly, to the lab!
~~~~~~~
Slipping the safety goggles over your glasses, you grin, planting your hands on your hips as you take in the sight before you.
Your apartment is a four room affair. One bed, one bath, a living room with a kitchenette in the corner, and a side room that you've converted into a laboratory.
It's rather sparsely furnished at the moment, filled in with basic furniture that you bought from OmegaIKEA—no personality at all. Not yet, at least, you'll have time to decorate properly once you find that book of yours. Of course, the exception to the sparsely furnished nature of the rest of your apartment is the laboratory.
The lab is quite cramped, as is to be expected from something that used to be a closet, but it'll do for your purposes at the moment. If you need something bigger you can simply buy or rent or squat in a warehouse or something—the monthly stipend you get from letting the Service use your creations is quite the hefty thing. Though, if you aren't careful with your funds it could get kinda tight sometimes.
But that's a matter for later! You've got work to do!
(Learning Roll DC 40,70,90: 81+10=91, triple success)
First things first, figure out what the hell this thing looks like under a microscope. …which will require you to get a sample, from the super-tough material. Great.
Eh, even if you can't get one you can just do it anyways—balance the feather on the sample mount.
After a bit of finagling, and several burnt out emitters, you managed to use a laser cutter to carve off a teeny-weeny chunk. Pressing that between glass panels, you slip it into place and secure the sample using the clamps.
It takes a moment to zero the microscope in properly, having to swap through a few of the lenses as you do, but you do make some discoveries in your preliminary examination of it.
One. The feathers' calamus, the hollow shaft at the base of feathers, is completely smooth. It reminds you a bit of your MSB10 cans and their effect. Frankly, it rankles you a bit to just stumble across something that, apparently, has the same effect. That damn nature, always screwing with super-scientists!
Though, since this is a Fallen Angel's feather, there is the potential that it wasn't naturally like this. While Angels have a lot of divine power that they Channel, Fallen Angels don't—cut off from the Throne of Heaven. Which, of course, forces them to be extremely efficient and conservative with their use of their remaining power. If they want to survive long at all, they'll pour their very finite reserves into improving their body until they can find another source of power to Channel.
As you know from the exam, smooth surfaces allow magic to flow smoothly. That's likely why they're so smooth, to allow the magic to get there more efficiently. Hmm… that's giving you an idea! While you can't use magic now, perhaps there's a way for you to make some things in preparation for when you can?
Smooth tubing that can easily and efficiently transport magic would be a boon to that, that's for sure. And hey! If you can figure out how to incorporate the smoothness of the feathers' calamus into your MSB10 mixture, you reckon you could improve it mightily!
The second thing you discover is, upon activating the atomic lens of the microscope, that the atomic bindings of the molecules are actually way stronger than they should be. You're beginning to think that you getting a sample at all was a bit of luck on your part—the pile of burnt out laser emitters would certainly support that hypothesis.
Could this be a result of them enhancing and refining their bodies? Wait. Refining… where've you heard that before? In the context of bodies and enhancement that is…
Your eyes widen as you think back to your first assignment at the house of the Myers. Specifically, to the being you had encountered there.
The Gremlish. A being from a 'cultivator' plane of existence where people refine their bodies using some form of magical life energy. And, if you recall correctly, the cultivator planes are located in the Upper Realm, just like the City of Heaven…
Could it be that Fallen Angels utilize a form of this 'cultivation' to refine their bodies? This will require more research…
In other news, you think that you've got a little idea forming in your thoughts. A multitude of ideas, to be exact.
But the one that grabs your attention the most is the one about merging the traits of the RegenerThread, ReCuffs, the Troll-Muscle Fiber thread you've been playing around with, and the Fallen Angel Feathers. A material that heals you, that repairs itself, provides a great deal of strength, and helps keep you safe? Oh man, you can almost smell the Nobel Prize.
Hmm… now that you think about it. How exactly would you give something the properties of the Fallen Angel Feathers if you can't even replicate it yet? Hmm… you could try electrically shocking the atoms? You have a feeling that this is going to be a difficult creation to make. Same with the Troll-Muscle Fibers, but that'll be easier than the Fallen Angel stuff, you reckon.
(Gain two Ideas, a half-formed Combination, a new Research topic, and a bonus to an Optimization
Idea 1: Fallen Angel Ballistic Fiber: A suitably tough material that replicates some of the traits of Fallen Angel Feathers, though nowhere near the degree of actual Fallen Angel Feathers.
Idea 2: Ultra-Smooth Tubing: When you inevitably learn magic, you're going to be incorporating that into your super-science—that's a certainty. These will help you in that task by easily and efficiently transporting magical energy.
Combination: ??? Thread: A thread with the healing properties of RegenerThread, the repair abilities of ReCuff, the strength enhancement of Troll-Muscle Fibers, and the toughness of Fallen Angel Feathers. (Requires all four of these to be at least at the Testing stage of super-science and will be very difficult to make properly)
Research Topic: The Link Between Cultivation and Fallen Angels
Optimization: +15 Bonus to Optimizing MSB10: You've seen the peaks, now it's time to climb them)
~~~~~~~
As you're finishing transcribing all your notes, you glance at your phone as a thought comes to mind. The Chainsaw would be invaluable for slaying any stray Deadites that pop up from the book being out there.
And the last people to have it are but a phone call away…
Well, no time like the present!
Finding and dialing their business number takes less time than it does to calibrate a photon imager—or, in layman's terms, a camera.
"Winchester's Hunters, how can I help you?" A chipper young woman answers the phone on the second ring.
"Hi, my name is Itzabella Williams-" You don't even get to finish as she interrupts you.
(Does the secretary recognize Itza? 73, I guess she does)
"Like the singer?" Why the hell do you keep getting recognized for the literal two month stint you did as a musical artist? You're more famous for being the daughter of your 'parents' than that! There's been, like, one person who knew you from your family, what the hell.
"Yes, that's me." You sigh. Frankly, at this point, you're considering trying to get back into it again. Even if just to shut people up.
"Awesome! You should do more music." Goddammit.
"Yeah, sure, I'll think about it."
"Fuck yeah!" The excitable woman on the other end of the line whispers to herself as she silently cheers.
"Great, uh, about the reason I was calling?" You launch an operation to steer the conversation back on track. You feel like you do that a lot.
"Oh yeah, you got a monster you need killed?"
"No, if I did I'd do it myself." You can hear the slow, doubtful blink on the other end.
"...Right. It would be a shame to lose a talent like yours to a monster so please let the professionals handle it." She begs and you want to go stick your head in the ground. Augh, this is so awkward!
"Th- wha?" You sputter, not quite believing what she just said. "Lady, I am the professionals. I've got the ID to prove it. And even if I didn't!" You cut her off as she goes to speak, massively overcompensating for earlier. "I'm still a damn super-scientist! If I couldn't take care of a single pombly-tombly monster then I'd hang up my lab coat for good!"
"Ma'am, if you're here to talk then please call someone else, this is a line that people could need." Her voice turned rather icy at that and you wince.
"A-ah-I'm sorry." You stammer out. "I, uh, I-I don't know what came over me."
The other end is silent for a moment. "...Right, okay," you can hear her sigh, "what can I help you with?"
"Several years back, in 2088, the Winchesters of the time bought a weapon at an auction house. It was a red chainsaw with an attaching point on the handle. It's also an important family heirloom and… And I was wondering if you still have it because I'd like it back. Please." You add almost as an afterthought.
She's silent again, this time for a longer moment. "Um, I'm going to need to speak to my bosses about that. Please hold." And the line goes dead, great.
The only thing they play is 'Carry On Wayward Son' by Kansas.
Over and over again.
You're there for about an hour, being slowly driven insane by the music looping over and over and ovER AND OVER!
A man comes on the line, his voice rather refined as he begins speaking. "This is Henry. You're Itzabella, right? Itzabella Williams?"
"That's me!" You nearly dance out of your seat as you finally get some human contact! Oh happy days! No more music, no more tunes to torture!
"Uh, good to hear. You had something you wanted to talk to me about? Regarding a certain chainsaw heirloom of yours?"
"Yes, I was wondering if you still have it and if you'd be willing to part with it." While you have a good deal of cash, you still have nowhere near the amount of money it would take to purchase the Chainsaw at the price its worth.
(Persuasion Roll DC 45: 42+5=47, success, that was a close one!)
"I believe we do, yes. I accompanied my father when we made the purchase of it. A red Homelite XL Chainsaw with a peculiar handle?"
"That's the one!" You nearly shout, feeling giddy.
"Why, I believe it's sitting in the shed. We've only ever used it to cut down the odd overgrown tree." You choke on your spit as you hear that, nearly hacking up a lung as you try to process what you just heard.
They did what with it!? It's a tool for killing demons and monsters and they cut down trees with it!? The sheer disrespect, the utter gall of these people!
"If you'd like," Henry continues on, seemingly oblivious to your predicament, "we could ship it up to you, Miss Williams. Save you the trip."
"When would it arrive?"
"In about two to three days, if the weather holds."
You weigh your options. You could spend all day driving down yourself and pick it up in person, which appeals to your desire to get your hands on it as fast as possible. But that would draw you away from the investigation for around two days, if you spent the minimum time there possible.
Or you could put your trust in them and the postal service to get it to you on time and intact.
[ ] "I'll drive down myself." (Puts a pin in Grave Robbing and starts The Quest for the Chainsaw)
[ ] "Go ahead and mail it up." (Bypasses The Quest for the Chainsaw, but there is a chance it gets lost in the mail, or worse)
~~~~~~~
GM's Note: This was a big one, holy cow! Both in content and word length.
Voting will be called tomorrow at 5 PM CST, have a good day everyone!
