[right][code]Home[/code][/right]
By the time Trisha got home, the effects of the strong alcohol she’d had were beginning to lessen. Still tipsy enough to be even more blunt than normal, but not so drunk that her ability to think was hampered. It was pleasant, now, and she found herself relaxing as soon as she got across the roof and into their little space. Her home. A place that actually felt like home thanks to Casey, even when he wasn’t there.

It felt like she could just forget everything she’d learnt tonight for a little while. Relax, have some time to herself, and then a night of promised cuddling when he got back. It was late already but… she didn’t feel tired. She wouldn’t need to sleep for a while.

Thankfully she didn’t have to go out again. She was quick to get changed out of her dress and into more comfortable home clothes. She stole one of Casey's sweaters - the one he'd worn that day and left on their bed after he got changed into his work clothes. It still smelled like him... It gave her a bit of comfort as she hugged it around herself, even though it functioned more as a dress than a jumper on her. Pushing up the sleeves until she had arms that were practically just bundled fabric was a small price to pay for the warmth she felt wearing it. Like he was there without actually being there. 

But that relaxed feeling left as Trisha grabbed some leftovers from lunch and made her way into their den, finally checking her phone to send a quick text to Casey letting him know she was home. 

Ten missed calls, and ten voicemails. 

They were all from Ezra’s assistant. The first was very polite, and normal, asking her to call ‘Mr Vanburen’ as soon as she could. By the fifth, she was incredibly insistent that Trisha pick up the phone or to just listen to one of the voicemails and call him. Almost panicked. The ninth she was just straight up frantically begging Trisha, and she was audibly sobbing by the tenth. 

Trisha had no idea what was going on, but between the panic and the sobbing it must be something [i]bad[/i]. Was Ezra dying? No, he definitely wouldn’t reach out to her. Were all of his businesses failing? That didn’t make sense either… unless he was so desperate for money that he needed some from Trisha. Maybe that was it. His assistant was sobbing because she was about to lose her job. It really couldn’t be anything else.

There was no point calling his assistant back - she’d just be redirected to Ezra anyway. So she went straight to him, as much as she really didn’t want to. Her interactions with him were always short, neither wanting to waste time on the other more than they had to. Hopefully this would be the same. 

She lounged back on the large, green couch and switched her phone to speaker mode as it rang Ezra’s personal number. She didn’t even wait for him to say anything first when he picked up.

[color=d1b300]“What do you want, Ezra? If you’re going bankrupt I can’t return the allowance from a [i]month[/i] ago, I already spent it.”[/color]

[color=darkgray]“Funny, allowances is what I wanted to talk to you about, Trisha,”[/color] said Ezra. His voice was stern and stoic, strange considering how long it had taken Trisha to get back to him as well as the alarm in his assistant’s messages. [color=darkgray]“But first, we haven’t spoken in a while. Is there something you would like to share with me?”[/color]

[color=d1b300]“We choose not to talk to each other."[/color] Trisha rolled her eyes - not that he could see it. Of course that was what he wanted to talk about. It was always about money with him. He clearly wasn't dying or going bankrupt, so she didn't really understand why it had been such an urgent call… and why he was bothering with the niceties. No, it didn't feel like niceties. It felt patronising. Like whenever her mother would call her and ask if she had anything to say to her, but had already decided she'd done something wrong. What could it be- oh.

[color=d1b300]“Tansy told you about my boyfriend, didn't she? Yeah, sure, I have a new boyfriend, I moved in with him last week- that's not really stuff you care about, is it? Why would I specifically tell you? Unless you're suddenly trying to replace dad and take an interest in my personal life- which I don't want."[/color]

Nor did Ezra. Out of his siblings, Ezra held Trisha with the highest amount of regard, an honor that was significantly less impressive the further someone was able to discern how much he truly cared about the other Vanburens. Not speaking to her was the highlight of his week. If giving a generous monthly allowance on top of what they already received from the family’s trust would keep the others from pestering him then he would’ve already done it. Unfortunately, Tansy would insist upon carrying on the family tradition of spending the holidays together, and for whatever reason some of his siblings liked pretending to tolerate one another, making the investment an impossibility.

At the very least Tansy would be able to serve as a scapegoat for where he got his information from, feeling that it was best for his other future investment to not reveal her as the source of his information. Wait, hold on, did Trisha just say…

[color=darkgray]“You already moved!?”[/color] said Ezra incredulously as the phone garbled what sounded like a loud smack. On the other end of the line, Ezra held his head in his hand.  [color=darkgray]“Look, normally I don’t care what you do or who you choose to do it with. In fact, I love not knowing. You’re an adult. You can make your own choices. Now that said, this is the fucking stupidest thing you’ve ever done. Do you even know who this guy is?”[/color]

If there was one thing moving in with Casey was good for, it was getting a genuine emotional reaction out of her normally stoic or fake siblings. Trisha would rather not have to deal with it at all. Ezra not caring generally, along with the money he gave her, was one of the reasons she found him most tolerable. So she wasn't particularly happy that he was questioning her decisions now. Calling her [I]stupid[/I]. Sure she knew the decision was fast- but it was her life! And honestly, it was one of the best she'd made. 

[color=d1b300]“Yes I do, Ezra,"[/color] Trisha snapped. She pulled herself up into a sitting position, hunched over her phone as all that earlier tension started to come back. [color=d1b300]“We went to highschool together. Had some classes together, were friendly enough. And his older brother was in that… summer group I was in ten years ago. So I do know him, even if we haven't dated long- not that it matters!"[/color]

Of course, that she and Casey knew each other in highschool was a lie. The exact same one she'd told her friends, but what was she going to say, the truth? That part of the decision was trying not to die to some insane magical serial killer, and a whole bunch of deeper issues she'd never tell anyone? [color=d1b300]“Why do you even care, stupid decision or not? One less burden for you if he kills me- which he won't. Or are you worried about [I]your[/I] reputation? That's it, isn't it? It's not like you actually care. So just keep staying out of my life."[/color]

[color=darkgray]“You’re damn right I’m worried about my reputation. I’m worried about our whole family’s reputation,”[/color] said Ezra, not even bothering to hide his motives. Their name was more powerful than anything else the Vanburens had. [color=darkgray]“But what you should be worrying about is your reputation. You’re dating a cultist, Trisha, or at least you think you’re dating him. Have you never read a book? Watched a movie? Listened to a podcast? Come on, you’re smarter than this.”[/color]

[color=darkgray]“You’re being recruited. This is what these whacko cults do. They look for important, powerful people and try to indoctrinate them by having an attractive person lovebomb them so they can use them as a cash cow and give their stupid bullshit idea that everybody is made from light and stardust some fucking legitimacy. You’re being targeted because you’re a Vanburen. It’s just a goddamn honeypot. Let me guess, this guy was the one to suggest you live together?”[/color]

Trisha was silent for a moment. Casey [I]had[/I] suggested they live together. But he'd been perfectly honest with her from the start with the cult. Mostly. He hadn't told her about the apparition suppressant. But most of it. She'd known about the spying, and Casey wasn't part of it again by choice… really. He was pressured into it by his mother. 

[color=d1b300]“Yes he did- but I'm not being targeted for my fucking name or money. If I was he would've jumped to Tansy the moment she started flirting with him! I haven't bought [I]anything[/I] since we've started dating. He won't let me! Worst honeypot ever if that it's. But it's [I]not[/I]. Maybe his mother wants my name, but he doesn't."[/color] Trisha glared at her phone, voice raising. She was pissed now… again. After the day she'd already had she wasn't in the mood to deal with anything else. 

[color=d1b300]“I know they're a cult, and I don't buy into their bullshit. I've told them that- he knows that. He doesn't even buy into the bullshit! I'm not stupid. I don't- and will never- believe any of that. I can date him without being involved… and we are dating. If you're right- which you're not- well fuck, you can tell me I told you so. Kick me when I'm down! But I don't give a fuck about my reputation because I finally have someone who actually likes [I]me[/I]."[/color] 

[color=darkgray]“Right, right, you definitely sound convinced. No history of putting blinders on,”[/color] said Ezra flatly. [color=darkgray]“So just out of curiosity, are you moving into an underground bunker or is there a campground that you all will stay at with the other new recruits?”[/color]

[color=d1b300]“Oh yeah, I'm in my tent right now, enjoying the outdoors,"[/color] Trisha retorted sarcastically, rolling her eyes again. She couldn't deny that she was often wrong - but it wasn't the same this time. It really wasn't. She was wrong about how toxic people were, jumping into them too fast and- wasn't that what she was doing this time? No, it wasn't. And she really wasn't joining a cult. 

[color=d1b300]“We live in a really nice rooftop apartment, just the two of us. There's even room for my beehive. You're welcome to come visit if you want- but that would be too much effort for you, wouldn't it? You just want me to agree and leave him."[/color]

[color=darkgray]“Please let’s not pretend like you’d actually want me to come visit,”[/color] said Ezra with a laugh. [color=darkgray]“And no, I don’t want you to leave him.”[/color]

Ezra shook his head on the other end of the line. It was of course a lie. It would be much less of a headache for him if Trisha wasn’t dating someone in a cult, no matter how much they claim to not be part of a cult. However, he knew well enough that if he forbade it she would only doubledown even harder on her latest flight of fancy, perhaps even fully indoctrinating herself in to the Temple not due to their manipulation but simply as a fuck you to Ezra. Wasn’t it a regular play of these new religious groups to try to separate someone from their family as soon as possible anyway?

[color=darkgray]“I just want you to be careful. Maybe you don’t care about your reputation, but I do. Specifically, I care about your reputation when I’ll be unable to attend a gala or get through a press conference without some fucking paparazzi asking me about my little sister singing Kumbaya around the Wicker Man. Remember the fucking PR nightmare after Tansy’s drunk driving incident? Do you know how much business opportunity the family lost just because she lightly tapped a kid on a bike? That was money out of your pocket too, Trisha. You want to be like her?”[/color] said Ezra. 

[color=d1b300]“I’m nowhere near as stupid as Tansy,"[/color] Trisha hissed, having gone from rolling her eyes at Ezra's overly annoying speech to pissed off in exactly the way he wanted her to be. Even the suggestion she'd be anything like Tansy was disgusting. Of course she remembered the incident - she'd made digs at Tansy about it for months. [color=d1b300]“You wouldn't catch me dead doing any of the cult shit. We barely go out anyway- and normally it's just us, no weird shit. He's been out of the cult for years. You're more likely to be asked why bee attacks keep happening around your sister."[/color]

The last bit was muttered, but not so quiet it wouldn't be picked up by the phone on speaker mode - along with the light buzzing that came with it as if the few bees with her were responding. Trisha forcefully silenced the bees with a command… Ezra didn't know about magic, after all. [color=d1b300]“I don't [I]not[/I] care about my reputation, I just care about him more. I am starting my own business after all. There's no need to fucking worry anyway… No paparazzi will get near us."[/color]

Her last words, ominous as they were, were delivered nonchalantly. Casey had powerful White lux. He'd notice anyone watching them. As for why she bothered telling Ezra about the business? Mainly the alcohol still circling in her system.

The suspicious sound of buzzing bees was soon responded to with the equally suspicious sound of an office chair squeaking as Ezra sat up in sudden interest as if the smell of capital gain pulled him upright. [color=darkgray]“You’re starting your own business?”[/color]

Trisha let out a short, snorting laugh. Of course everything else went out the window as soon as she mentioned a business. She was surprised he didn't immediately scoff and say she could never do something like that. Assuming that would be the case was part of why she'd never even considered it earlier. [color=d1b300]“Yeah, I said that, didn't I?"[/color]

After her typical snide comment, she continued with an actual explanation. Did she have to explain it to him? No. But loathe as she was to admit it… she always wanted some kind of approval from someone in her family. Anyone. But preferably one of the ones she actually viewed as smart, even if she still didn't like them. She continued to speak in a way Ezra would've rarely heard - not quite excited, but actually engaged in something. [color=d1b300]“It’s selling my honey. Before you say the markets oversaturated and shit- yeah, I thought so too. Have you heard of the chef, Andrade? He has four restaurants in the city. Tansy dragged me to one once… he believes my honey is as valuable as this other honey he got from the Turkish mountains, worth like a thousand a jar. Some of its being used for mead, and it reached sixteen percent - rare in the mead market. So it's good."[/color] 

[color=darkgray]“And locally sourced,”[/color] said Ezra almost in a whisper, as if he was planning the mass marketing already. Ezra couldn’t believe the beekeeping shit was paying off. And here he had assumed that Trisha had just gotten into it because it had been some lame internet trend. 

[color=darkgray]“That license for selling is pretty expensive, and given how oversaturated the market is, the cost for materials has to be a bitch,”[/color] said Ezra. Unless she got a secret part-time job then he knew precisely how much money his sister had been taking in a month, and he couldn’t see Trisha busing tables or pouring coffee. [color=darkgray]“Doesn’t matter if you can sell a jar for a billion dollars if you go belly up before you reach market. How’s your financial plan looking?”[/color]

[color=d1b300]“Uhhhhh-"[/color] Trisha wasn't able to hold back the little noise of confusion. Was the cost for materials really that bad? What materials was he even talking about? She had everything for honey collection, she had her bees, they had a hive, they even had access to pollen year round. Fancy packaging? She was floundering a bit here, and hated it. She knew the bees, she knew the product, but she didn't know the business… and she didn't want to admit she'd been letting the Temple take care of that in the background.

[color=d1b300]“Technically I already ‘sold’ the honey I've been collecting for years. That funds the… materials… which I'm pretty sure I already have. There's bees, a hive, manual honey collection equipment, I bulk bought jars. The bees are low maintenance-"[/color] financially, at least, even if they were emotionally high maintenance. [color=d1b300]“I have some money saved from my last contracting job. Once the bees start producing honey again in a few weeks I'll be able to start selling- the chef I mentioned, Andrade, already wants more. I don't think I'll have to worry about customers. So, that's how it's looking."[/color]

[color=darkgray]“Wow. Almost sounds like you have some idea of what you’re doing,”[/color] said Ezra, the sarcasm lost in the fading of his voice as he shifted his phone from one ear to the other. [color=darkgray]“And you don’t find it…peculiar that the celebrity chef that is also the apparent sole customer of your business just happens to be a member of the same cult your boyfriend is in?”[/color]

How the fuck did Ezra know about Andrade being part of the Temple? Where they that fucking open about it. Trisha was silent for a moment, pressing her head into her hands as she tried to figure out how to explain this in a way that didn't make her appear stupid. Why did she even care about his opinion? Well… sadly this was one place where his opinion mattered. No matter how poor her opinion of him, Trisha wasn't petty enough to deny his business acumen. It just made it more frustrating. [color=d1b300]Good job, Trisha, failing before you even start.[/color]

[color=d1b300]“First customer, not sole customer. And it's not suspicious because they… technically… are involved in the business… working with it. But there's no contract, so I'm not sure what cut they're taking. Fuck, I should've got a contract."[/color] There was more background buzzing as Trisha tried to clamp down on her agitation. At this point, she might as well just be honest about what was happening with it. Or a bit more honest. [color=d1b300]“It’s part of my boyfriend's agreement for the apartment. The rooftop space allows expansion for my beehives."[/color]

[color=darkgray]“Your boyfriend’s agreement?”[/color] said Ezra in clarification, real sounding concern in his voice. [color=darkgray]“So you’re transferring your supply source to a property that you do not own? And none of this is protected by anything other than a handshake deal? No proper paperwork proving what is yours is yours?”[/color]

With each question from Ezra, Trisha pulled herself in tighter until her knees were close to her chest and she was a tense ball. There hadn't even been a handshake. Anxiety, barely suppressed normally, gripped her. If even Ezra sounded concerned… she'd really fucked up. She'd just trusted Casey and Andrade with it- not that she didn't trust Casey, but what happened when they broke up? If she'd grown her hive and didn't have her space? All her connections and new equipment would be gone. She needed some kind of paperwork. But she also didn't want to sign anything with the Temple. 

[color=d1b300]“Yeah there's no paperwork but they can't take the bees."[/color] Trisha's anxiety came out as a sullen reply, taken out on the person she was talking to rather than admitting that he was right and that she'd fucked up. [color=d1b300]“They’ll sting anyone who tries. Everything else can be replaced- there's no business without them. And they just can't take them. It's not possible… and they lived in a property I didn't own before! I've never owned a property. But there's no fucking way they can take them unless they rip something out of me."[/color]

[color=darkgray]“Well, they lived on family property so it wasn’t really an ownership problem then. I could get my guy to draft up some pap—wait, what?”[/color] said Ezra, the bit about ripping something out of Trisha finally registering. 

Trisha's brain stalled for a moment. How did she explain her magical bees to someone not magical without sounding crazy? Why had she let her agitation get to her enough to say that last bit? [color=d1b300]“My bees are special. They're extra attached to me- they won't produce honey without me, so there's no product without me, and they're basically like my children so it would be like ripping my soul out. Metaphorically."[/color]

[color=d1b300]Great job, Trisha, you managed to make yourself sound crazy anyway.[/color]

[color=darkgray]“Right.”[/color] There was a long pause before Ezra’s voice came back over the speaker. [color=darkgray]“I don’t think that’s how bees work. Whatever. Look, if you want I can give you the number to my lawyer to help draft up some contractual agreements to cover your ass, because right now Andrade or your boyfriend could just take all the profits from this bee sweatshop—sorry, family owned and operated hive—you’re running.”[/color] 

[color=d1b300]“It's [I]not[/I] a sweatshop, bees make honey naturally, and they get bored when they can't- it's annoying over winter normally. They're very happy- I can't tell,"[/color] Trisha said before she could stop herself- doing an amazing job of not looking more crazy. It was that fucking alcohol Tamara gave her earlier! While she thought she'd mostly sobered up, obviously not enough to stop her from just spouting out shit she normally didn't want to. 

[color=d1b300]“Yes. I'd like the number of your lawyer. I need something on paper."[/color] It was all said very tersely, compared to the strange enthusiasm she spoke about the bees with. It was, after all, close enough to admitting that Ezra was right and that she'd fucked up here. As she got more agitated the buzzing in the background of the call got a bit louder… and closer. One of the bees had decided the phone was the source of the problem, and was trying to intimidate it by getting really close and moving its wings rapidly at it. It made her next words muffled by buzzing. [color=d1b300]“You’re not going to want a cut, are you?"[/color]

[color=darkgray]“Technically, given that it was my money that funded this project I do qualify as an investor and I’m probably owed some backpay for my investment,”[/color] said Ezra matter-of-factly, before letting out a quiet chuckle. [color=darkgray]“I’m fucking with you. If you’re ever interested in expanding we could talk about becoming partners, but it sounds like this is something you want to do on your own. But let’s be real—it’s absolutely a nightmare working with family.”[/color]

The buzzing of the bee was met with a challenge from the phone as it chimed from receiving a text message.

[color=darkgray]“There’s the guy’s number. Some processing fees are involved with drawing up contracts, but your allowance should cover that,”[/color] said Ezra. [color=darkgray]“If you ever have any questions about running operations, or one of those Temple jerks tries to change up your business structure then don’t hesitate to give me a call.”[/color]

[color=d1b300]“Are you sure you're not dying or some shit? You'd actually pick up a call from me? You wouldn't make me make an appointment through your fucking assistant again?"[/color] Trisha found herself laughing, and relaxing somewhat. Maybe Ezra wasn't so bad… when talking about business. Like how she could be with the bees. 

Even as Trisha relaxed, that one bee was really not having it with the phone. The bee continued buzzing, having skittered away at the chime that came from it. Then she boldly approached the phone, climbing right on top of Trisha's phone. 

[color=d1b300]“But sure, I, uh, appreciate that. I do want to do it on my own- oh my fucking god, get your butt off my speaker-"[/color] Trisha herself and some very loud buzzing cut her off as she was speaking, reaching out to scoop up the bee that was sticking half its body right on the speaker of her phone, while being incredibly close to touching the hangup button. She switched her phone off speaker mode and brought it up to her ear with a frown. [color=d1b300]“Sorry, bees- I definitely don't want to work with family. No offence. So… don't tell Tansy. Or anyone else, but she's the one that can't keep her mouth shut."[/color]

Ezra furrowed his brow. He supposed he could screen his own calls from Trisha if it meant keeping a lifeline tied around Trisha so he could yank her out of the cult when she inevitably started to drink the kool-aid and avoid the nightmare that came with that. 

[color=darkgray]“You’ve got my direct line,”[/color] said Ezra. [color=darkgray]“And I won’t tell Tansy.”[/color]

Not like that mattered. Tansy seemingly had her way of knowing what was going on with every Vanburen’s life no matter how private they were, always having her fingers covered in the latest dirt. It was like she had an army of paparazzi working for her. Hell, knowing her, she was the one who probably tipped them off anytime the family went anywhere. Unlike Ezra, Tansy didn’t believe in bad publicity. 

[color=darkgray]“Just do me one favor,”[/color] said Ezra. Here it was. The other shoe, finally dropping. The static over the phone seemed to buzz a little louder in Trisha’s ear as Ezra let the anticipation build. Then, [color=darkgray]“Could you send me a jar of that honey? I got to know what a thousand dollar honey tastes like.”[/color]

Trisha had been preparing for something unreasonable. Like moving back out, or sending some kind of reports to Ezra, or even some extreme where he told her not to get pregnant out of fear she'd get trapped in a cult that way when that definitely wasn't a possibility- but it wasn't. Trisha let out an audible sigh of relief. Thankfully she'd kept a few jars for herself before handing almost all of it off to Andrade - while she ate so much she often got sick of it, she also craved it if she went too long without it… it was resistable, but why bother?

[color=d1b300]“Sure, that's easy, I have some unopened jars lying around still. I can just send it to your office?"[/color] Trisha frowned as she thought about it. Was the honey really that good? Confident as she could be talking about it, she still didn't really believe it. [color=d1b300]“I think it's better if you-"[/color]

Trisha stopped talking as she heard a click, and the telltale sounds of footsteps that echoed round their small home. She moved to lean over the couch, enough to look out the door and catch sight of Casey's face. He didn't look anything like normal. The opposite. 

[color=d1b300]“Shit, he looks ready to kill someone,"[/color] Trisha muttered under her breath - brain to mouth filter still not working well enough to keep it a thought, or think about how close her phone microphone was to her mouth. [color=d1b300]“Gotta go, boyfriend's home, I'll send you that honey—"[/color]

[color=darkgray]“—Wait, what?”[/color]  Ezra’s voice was cut off as the call ended. 
[hr][right][code]Tarantula Hawk: Casey Interlude Two | Worthurs Labs > Home [/code][/right][hr]
Casey’s wrist flicked up, his watch illuminating his eyes and causing them to shine. It’d been fifteen minutes since Clarissa entered the facility: A large ranch-style home spanning three wings and almost four-thousand square feet of living space, sitting atop three subterranean floors of some of the most caustic and dangerous magical machinery one could think of. There were machines actively relying on open portals to generate their own power, as well as transferring things without the use of conveyor belts in order to maximize the usable square footage of the facility.

Whatever they were making, or what significance the project had in relation to Eden, he had no clue. But he knew things were so intense on the bottom floor that only a select few Abberations were able to get down there to work. Those particulars were, he presumed, in attendance at the monthly meeting… Same place as Trisha… He hoped she wasn’t having an awful time, but he couldn’t linger on it. He couldn’t go soft now, not as the timer in his watch told him that work was starting.
[color=e0c4ff][i]”If I ain’t out in fifteen, assume we ain’t made a deal.”[/i][/color]

He’d long since rotated to a more intelligent entrypoint than the front door, especially as he could feel a heavier waking concentration of people at the front of the house. He knew they’d all try and break for the Lab’s first floor once they realized what was happening… But for now, he’d pushed around the fence and into the garden in the rear of the facility. The gate code was his to know, leaving little in the way of resistance of entry. 
There were people out here, of course, even with the sun gone and the cold air around them: Mary didn’t let people smoke inside. There were several sitting areas with heat lamps beaming down an orange-red light onto people puffing away. 

At first, they didn’t notice him trudging through the flower beds toward them. Dragging his hand across the ground, he channeled an orange spell that echoed through the dirt and rock around him hunting for electric signals. Catching the wires of the heat lamps, there was a loud electric buzzing noise that indicated their overloading, followed by yelps of pain as the electronic heating elements arced with tiny bolts of lightning. Forcing the machines to draw as much power as they could, eventually they exploded into radiant fires that caused the people to scream and scatter away from the benched areas and into the dark.

Illuminated by flame, Casey had easy targets. The shotgun came up, and he took one last deep breath.
[h2]Thwack, thwack thwack thwack, thwack thwack, thwack, thwack thwack[/h2]
There were screams. Confused screams as chests exploded and limbs turned into hot pink mist. Buckshot Plus, one of his favorite enchanted rounds, packed [i]ten times[/i] the amount of double-aught buckshot pellets as a normal cartridge… It created a variable wall of pellets that ripped large portions of the target apart with the viciousness of a bomb blast, leaving little in the way of identifiable tissue.

Nine shots meant the tube was empty, and he had one left in the chamber. At the behest of its master, the holstered pistol ripped itself out, spinning on its axis and gunning the last runner down in a hail of silenced forty-five. A pulse of White Lux rushed across the outside property, revealing it was empty. He could feel a large presence of human heartbeats and Lux signatures under his feet, but he knew that was safe for now.
Moving forward, he slid the rear door of the house open into a communal space, loading the next ten shots into his magically silenced shotgun. It was like shooting fish in a barrel, the only sensation being recoil over and over again. In his mind, he kept counting.

A running count. He knew an exact number of people who were supposed to be in this facility, confirmed by both a staff census and the final security report of the day before his men cleared out. Out of fifty-four, twenty-eight had been slaughtered on the first floor as his deadly quiet rampage turned into a desperate struggle of the few who knew enough magic to defend themselves.
Of particular note, Casey found himself face to face with a friend from long ago: A Red-Purple Adept of some skill who was known for his mastery over telekinesis among his peers. Bullets didn’t work at first: He was far more skilled at creating barriers than actually fighting with his magic, and had managed to box Casey off in a room while the others tried to escape.

But Casey’s own mastery of Orange, and his creative if not sadistic mind, saw the use of the home’s constituent pieces as nothing more than part and parcel. His influence over objects and mechanical functions meant that standing near [i]anything[/i] was bad news. The automatic vacuum machine, the little automated disk that cleaned the floors, zipped up next to the Adept, bumping into his leg to distract him before the lithium-ion battery inside violently erupted into a ball of fire that ignited him.
His focus turned to himself, removing the barrier holding Casey in place and covering himself to smother the flames. 

Just enough time for Casey to load a very special shell: A Disruptor, which created a magical blast of Blue Lux that prevented Channelers from producing spells. The Adept’s barrier around himself failed, and only when he realized that he was magic-constipated did he cry out for mercy. He didn’t know it was Casey, as his face was fully covered, so there was no appeal to reason he could produce that would make a difference. But the fact that he had any time to plead at all gave Casey a terrible sensation of pain. A pain he had to kill… He lashed out with the gun like it was a club, striking the Adept in the face with the hardened metal barrel. 
He tumbled to the floor in a heap, convulsing. Taking two steps, Casey felt the enhanced strength provided by his enchantment as his leg arched backward and sprung forward. Kicking his old friend in the face, he could hear the skull fracture into a hundred little pieces that shot out like shrapnel. Almost without his input, the holstered pistol loosed a shot of its own as it passed over the fresh corpse, ensuring that it was dead for good.

He didn’t think about him anymore… Only taking down the few he managed to help flee. But just like he suspected, they made their way deeper into the facility, rather than fleeing out into the night. He was getting to the heavily secured “basement” door just as it was sliding shut. They probably assumed they were safe, given the facility was well jammed against teleporting [i]in[/i]. It had to be, or the thousands of portals running the machines would probably invite all sorts of demons and other horrors. 
So, it was probably more of a nightmare to hear the gentle beeping of the keypad being opened with the override code. A nightmare to see that giant in black standing at the top of the stairs. A nightmare that ended quickly as they were washed away in bloody chunks.

“Miss Clarissa, please! Please, they’re coming, please don’t do this!”
Casey could hear a familiar voice pleading. Shrieking. Mary Worthurs, the leader of their coven and owner of the facility. As she screamed, she witnessed the torrent of pellets and blood tumbling down the stairs and into the main processing area of the facility where their offices were. She was slamming on a door, but quickly turned and screamed in bloody horror as her covenmates’ giblets coated the floor and wood in sticky red goo.
Casey’s boots, and the legs attached to them, were enough to drive her into a panic. Rather than stick around, she quickly turned and began to flee toward the ramp that led down to Basement Two, or B2, leaving the floor of B1 eerily silent. Looking up, Casey could see the silhouette of Clarissa in a window overlooking the loading area. She’d locked herself in the office… 

He stood for a moment waiting for her to realize he was there, then he could see her come away, down, and open up the office door.
[color=e0c4ff]”Eight.”[/color] was the only thing she said to him. The door closed just as fast as it opened, and he added eight to his talley before turning and moving on. Casey wasn’t there at this point: Only a machine wearing his skin. A puppet master pulling the strings to make his flesh dance. It had to be… These were innocent people, their only crimes were being involved with a stubborn old woman, and not doing more internally to change her perception.

Mary Worthurs was to blame. This was Mary Worthers’ fault.
[color=577d06][i]They fucking earned it. They fucking earned it. They fucking earned it.[/i][/color]
As the facility drew on and on, there were an infinite number of places for people to hide. It became less of a chase, more of a hunt: A hunt that was becoming difficult to sustain as the machinery became more densely packed and complex. The signatures coming off of each machine affected the perception given to him by his White Lux. Finding those who weren’t Purple Adepts was far easier, as they didn’t match the machines. It was those technicians, the ones responsible for doing most of the maintenance and whose spells were almost certainly the origins of the portals running them, that gave him the most trouble. In times like these, scorched Earth would be the general plan, but the destruction that would be caused if he decided to start blowing machines apart could wind up catastrophic.

There were enough portals in small Lux-based fixtures that regulated their size and flow that if they were to crack open, who knows how big of a hole would be left in St. Portwell? So, the situation required a full adjustment on his part. Hunting for Lux was useless, thermal traces were useless, air displacement was less than useless…
Detecting direct biological function, as difficult as it was, wound up being his only option. Hearts beat: They only beat so fast before they just stop and you die… But even then, there was a not-zero chance that they’d be able to suppress the noise with some kind of Purple fuckery.

Mid-stride, like a malfunctioning machine, Casey ceased all movement. He was in the middle of a throughway between blocks of machines. 
[color=577d06][i]Why the fuck am I doing this? What the fuck is wrong with me; these people don’t fucking deserve this! I know them, I’ve seen their fucking faces, I’ve spoken to them as a friend- As family! I’ve helped these people, brought things to this place![/i][/color]
All at once, Casey felt a great upheaval in his stomach. The balaclava and mask both came up barely in time for his mouth to clear the cloth barrier. Vomit splattered across the floor as he heaved up everything he’d eaten that day until his knees were shaking.

Already slick with blood, the trail of bile left streaming down the front of his plate carrier wasn’t a concern. What was a concern was the force with which he was toppled and shoved into the pool on the floor. Hot, wet stomach acid and chunks of undigested pastries splashed like he hit a roadside puddle, and though he tried his hardest to get up, he felt himself pinned.
Purple Lux swirled all around him, and he realized what was going on quickly. Especially as multiple voices began to speak.

“Just keep it pinned!”
“Auntie, it’s… He’s-”
“I know! I know it’s hard, just… This is our only chance! Get the gun!”

[color=577d06][i]No… No, no no… Idiots…[/i][/color]
Struggling against the pressure of half a dozen low-power Adepts wasn’t fun… But they clearly didn’t want to kill him. They just wanted to be safe, right? Casey saw feet starting to shuffle around him, pressure pinning his torso to the ground like his plates were made of solid gold.

But they’d shown their hands.

His lips moved to the nozzle attached to the camelbak with the various magical substances in it. Healing wasn’t necessary yet, but if they did try to hurt him, it was best to have things in motion prior. What he was really after was the Pepper Jam- A spike in his Lux capacity meant more energy he could dump into a spell, or spells. At the same time, he could taste the mild sweetness of the banana custard mixing in. There was a slight tremble against his body, and suddenly the weight was gone. He wasn’t aware of it in the moment, but their telekinetic shackling was easily pushed back by a bolstered Emotional Field. Far enough that he could move freely again…

Only, he chose not to. He felt the relief on his chest and let himself take a deep breath.
[color=577d06]”M-Mary!?”[/color] he growled, making it seem like he was still under pressure. The pudgy woman nearly shrieked as he spoke her name.
“O-oh… Oh my Stars… Casey!? Casey Richoux!?”
[color=577d06]”Mary, please… J-just give it up! I don’t want to do this, Mary!”[/color] he warned with great concern in his voice. 

There were a couple of sobs, some back and forth between those gathered to try and parse out what was happening. They were clearly confused about Casey’s participation…
“Why are you doing this, Casey!? You’re the Blade! The sword and the shield! Y-you’re… Supposed to save us from something like this! Why are you-”

[color=577d06]”Mary!... Don’t be stupid! There’s still time for you to leave, I promise! Just go! Escape! Be anywhere but St. Portwell and I swear to our God that you’ll be left alone… I don’t want to hurt anyone, Mary!”[/color]
“Then why have you!? What in the hell have we done to deserve this!?”
[color=577d06]”I’m so fucking sorry, Mary… I… You know what you’ve done! You know-”[/color]
“Because I wouldn’t hand over my life’s work to Clarissa [i]fucking[/i] Natale!? Because I wouldn’t buckle to the whim of the Blade’s Consort!?”
[color=577d06]”You. Went. To. Lynette…”[/color]

There was silence. It was cold silence. Dead silence… Then the noise of sobbing behind the cup of her hands as she pressed her face into them. Her words were muffled, but he could feel the weight lift off his Emotional Field. She’d told them to… Let off? 
“Help him up…”
A few hands slipped under the back of his carrier, hoisting Casey’s massive frame up to his knees out of the pool of vomit. It leaked down the front of him, dripping back into itself on the floor.
“What the fuck were you doing, anyway?”
[color=577d06]”Throwing up! You think I want to do this shit, hunting fucking innocent people like animals? You're all hiding, the adrenaline… I got sick to my stomach.”[/color]

Mary’s face was sullen, scared even. She was doing her best to cling to Casey’s shotgun, and now the barrel was pointed at him.
“Good… You can die regretting what you-”

There was a clapping sound maybe fifteen yards down the lane. Casey knew what a .38 sounded like, and he knew what’d happened instantly. Clarissa, watching the security cameras, had almost certainly seen the group starting to creep up on him as they let him get further on into the facility. Rather than tip them off and warn him over the intercoms, she simply used him as bait.
The .38 slug ripped through Mary’s arm, and Clarissa forced it to spin inside before rotating and coming out of the shoulder. The pain caused her to scream, scaring the others around her. He didn’t have time to think about what he was doing anymore…
The pistol on his hip came up shooting, one bullet flying into the concrete floor of the subterranean factory, followed by another that split the shin of the first target. By the third shot, he was aiming for the upper torsos.

[h2]Thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack-[/h2]

He was surrounded by corpses… Corpses, and a screaming Mary Worthurs. A cursing Mary Worthurs.
[b]”A fucking plague on you! Plague, death- I hope your children burn to death, I pray you never see-”[/b]

Clarissa was already there, one foot sweeping out and driving a heavy, weighted boot into the side of Mary’s skull. She screamed again, moaned in pain, and could only sputter as Clarissa’s violence became far more personal. One leg swung over the woman so that Clarissa was situated overtop of her.
[color=e0c4ff]”How- Dare- You- Make- It- Lynette’s- Problem… You- Stupid-”[/color]
Each word was punctuated by Clarissa’s fist driving deeper and deeper into Mary’s face, bolstered by telekinetic assistance until the subject no longer screamed or squirmed. She punched until there was no head left.

As the horror unfolded, Casey looked about the area: There were still two… But they were standing not far off, watching as Clarissa did what she did. They’d come with her? He drew the pistol upward, aiming at them and letting two shots go. He was sure that Clarissa would’ve wanted that… He knew how she was.
Eventually she calmed down enough to draw back and take a hot, steaming breath of balmy air. With each technician gone, their spells were fading and machines were grinding to a halt. Catastrophic failure of machine parts, aggregate heat of metal grinding against metal without magical lubricant… 

Her head turned to the two who had given up- the two who had traveled with her down to this level in the hopes that they’d have been allowed to continue under Clarissa, rather than stick with their loyalty to Mary. She started to laugh. Still, she had her back turned to Casey, who for a moment imagined what the world would be like with one less monster…
But a flood of his childhood rushed in. Nostalgia. White Lux bombed the area in a strong reactionary release…

And then he started to throw up again. It caught Clarissa so off guard that she spun on her heels.
[color=e0c4ff]”Oh my God! Casey, sweetheart, what’d they do to you!?”[/color] she was instantly the concerned Aunt again… She only loved her tribe. Only her closest. He didn’t push her away for fear of how she’d react, but as she wrapped her arms around him, he didn’t reciprocate.
[color=577d06]”N-othing… Just… I don’t want to be here anymore.”[/color]
Clarissa didn’t hesitate. As per their agreement, the job was complete. Her last end of the bargain was getting him back home, which she promptly opened a portal into the hall of the hidden floor. The offices. Home. Checking the clock as they both walked into the office, Casey realized how late it’d really gotten. It was almost midnight… 

Theo was sitting in the main seat, but quickly cleared out as the two of them came in. Clarissa didn’t have to verbalize what she wanted; Theo was used to scenes like this. His only job now was to bring Casey’s footlocker from the Black Room, so that he could divest himself of his filthy uniform.
Hardly worse for wear, Clarissa plopped him down in his chair and began to unbuckle the straps of his carrier for him. She pulled every bit of armor and kit he had off, all the while singing a lullaby from his childhood that would’ve put him to sleep had he been relaxed… But he wasn’t.

Finally, he mustered the energy to say what was on his mind.
[color=577d06]”That… Was unnecessary.”[/color]
Clarissa paused for a moment, clearing her throat.
[color=e0c4ff]”That was a job [i]well done.[/i] I know it hurts… But if an animal is terminal, you don’t let it suffer.”[/color]
Casey turned his head, shoving his face into his hand. It muffled him a little bit, but the sentiment was clear.
[color=577d06]”Who decides what’s terminal Clarissa? You? Mom?”[/color]

[color=e0c4ff]”God determines.”[/color]

There was a longer pause as those words bounced around the little office. Clarissa’s eyes locked with Casey’s, and the two stared into one anothers’ souls for longer than they’d ever done. There was no Lux exchanged. There didn’t need to be. It was an unspoken conversation having to do with what they truly believed…
And it was then that Casey finally realized that some people really had come to enjoy the poisoned juice. Finally, she smiled deeply at him as she’d done a million times, and ran her hand gently through his hair.

[color=e0c4ff]”Now, go wash up. Enjoy the rest of your week. I’m sure Mummy will understand if you need to decompress. But, I promise you: It’ll get easier.”[/color]
And then she slipped through the floor in a portal, disappearing completely to leave Casey alone. Theo interrupted the rapt silence of Casey’s internal pain with the dragging of the locker, but taking one look at his boss’s face made him unwilling to stick around.

[color=9d33d6]”U-uh.. I’m g-glad you’re home safe? Trisha made it back a little while ago; she’s upstairs safe and sound. She’s on the phone with some dude named Ezra? From the-[/color]
Casey’s face turned from abject horror and sadness to concentrated fury.
[color=577d06]”What? What did I tell you both about monitoring upstairs?”[/color]

Theo’s blood ran cold.
[color=9d33d6]”N-not… Not to worry about it while you’re here!?”[/color]
[color=577d06]”I said don’t. Just that. Don’t. Fucking. Monitor. My. Apartment.”[/color]
[color=9d33d6]”Y-yes Sir!”[/color]

Casey stood from the seat and started to unzip his jumpsuit, taking a deep breath.
[color=577d06]”Now spy on someone else for fuck’s sake… I’m going to shower.”[/color]
And he was gone in a flash, slipping into the office bathroom. Theo could hear him vomiting for the next few minutes before the shower finally kicked on.