ERode — Roleplayer Guild

The Riverbend church, it was a place she didn’t expect to find herself but here Emily Newport was in the flesh. Dressed down in civvies like the skinny ‘clash’ she was Emily found herself injected into every aspect of criminal thievery, today she would meet her new best friend Mathias. The detective wanted to see the fish bowl himself, the shadowery faced flow-esque felon that ran this place, so she entered the church and was patted down. Minus all her gats and gadgets she stepped in.the church.

Matthias probably could’ve stayed home that day. After all, just the night before, he had been strapped down by a psychotic bitch. Even now, through the medical care and painkillers, his body felt like shit, and he didn’t even get the benefit of being mentally out of it: his mind still worked totally fine, irritatingly enough. The senses, sharp enough to keep him aware of every ache that accompanied every movement as he spoke.

But he still had to speak, didn’t he?

The takeover of Merryland went about as smoothly as he could have expected it to, but it was Yellow Brick that was the Del Guarde’s fortress. Asterion had upheld his part of the deal now, what with the dissolution of the forces that controlled the 93rd, so all that remained…well, was the goddamn siege of the illegally-occupied precinct. And if he were to make sure that went smoothly? He had to give a real rousing speech to the hyper-rational lunatics here.

Thankfully, the sermon had yet to begin and people were still being checked through the doors of the austere church. The kidnapping had been the kind of scare that sparked a whole new set of security measures from what had once been a relatively lax cult, and now everyone stepping in had to submit to a total disarmament. Matthias thought it was stupid, of course: this was Nocturnia, where the kid on the sidewalk could very likely have the ability to explode your brains with a thought. Guns didn’t kill; people did.

Gave him time to gather up his thoughts, at least. He leaned back against the cold, wooden pew, looking up towards the high ceiling, where fluorescent bulbs shone their cold light.

Yellow Brick. He’d like the territory for himself. Take that and then use it as pretext for helping Asterion score Heavy Crossguard, giving him a bit of a buffer zone away from the Lion. Then it was simply ensuring that Vincent’s Roses never got too weak or too strong, use him as a way to keep the Commissioner nice and distracted while the Order’s operations expanded southwards and then inwards.

Antonia gave him one week.

He wanted to be untouchable by the time that week was up.

Touched he would be, untouchable he would not. Sliding in beside her gassy faced friend was Emily Newport. “Ahh… Beautiful church y’know, you really spruced this place up Lodestar.” She purred hanging out with her new mysterious, probably friendly friend as he oozed and leaked whatever the heck that was where his head was suppose to be. “Name’s Clash, but maybe you already know that - I come in peace.” A smirk grew across her mouth, her voice a little sing songey as she chilled on the cocobola-crafted bench.

“There’s beauty to be found in pure function, yes,” Matthias intoned. “I do hope that all those who pass the threshold to this humble place of self-reflection come in peace. Though these days, it’s harder to convince people to.”

The Lodestar shifted himself a slight bit away from this new face, noting her movie-star looks and the lethality beneath her gaze. Apparently, in Nocturnia, beauty correlated with danger, and his sample size of…what, five? all pointed towards this being true. Lenore, the Del Guarde’s psycho-torturer, the Delacroix witch, the venerable Commissioner, and now, no doubt, this pretty little thing was also trying for an angle. Psycho-torturer’s little sister? Antonia’s left-hand-woman? Or just another merc, drawn in by the promise of military money to do something crazy?

Ugh. He suppressed an urge to roll his eyes, then remembered he didn’t have eyes anymore, so he freely rotated his phantom eyes that only existed vaguely in his mind.

“Is this your first time attending a service, Ms. Clash?”

“Your service, mmmm… Feels like it. In general no, I’m not super religious but I can be a believer~” Emily said, a dastardly lethal hand approached Mathias ready to shake. “I like the whole head in out space thing, it’s quite cute. Not sure if you’re the one for compliments, last guy I hit on didn’t like it, maybe he was gay~? Butttttt I’ll cut to the chase, I like what you’re doing and I think we couuullddddd.. Be partners.”

Matthias hesitated briefly, before taking Clash’s hand into his own. His grip was light, hardly there, as if he were cupping cotton candy in his hand, trying to keep it from falling to pieces or melting from his body heat. But his hand was cold too, the touch almost icy. As if what blood laid beneath the skin and fat didn’t flow the same way that regular humans did. Or maybe it was just an aftereffect of less than a day of recovery from goth-military-torture?

“I’m a leader of the faith,” he spoke, relinquishing his grip a moment later. “Compliments are commonplace, but I suppose it’s rarer to be called ‘cute’ than ‘Unbounded Savior of the Human Soul’. Thank you though. It’s somewhat rare for others in Nocturnia to be interested in the philanthropic and educational work done by the Order.”

He doubted someone named ‘Clash’ was actually here for that though. But appearances were appearances. And maybe it was just a street nickname that she grew out of. The world was wide; he definitely wasn’t huffing cope.

“Would you like to sign up for one of our upcoming community outreach events?”

The hand shake was soft, taut but soft as she let go of his ghostly grippers for the time being. “Maybe, depends what it looks like Mr. Savior of the Human soul. Listen you like to get work done and so do I, to be honest I don’t know what your work looks like. I like it, even though I don’t know what’s going on in the back ground. I think you have a badass vision for the city, me though I’m here for the ride.” Emily leans on the pew near the ghastly man as she looked up to the visage of the cathedral.

“Well, do you know how to make soup?”

There was a pause. A tendril of smoke curled in perhaps the faintest hint of a smile.

“Proper, edible soup with no mystery meats. No mafia metaphors here.”

“Not a fan of Noc Noc chow my dear savior~?” She said slyly, everyone loved Noc Noc chow right?

“It’s cheaper to make things yourself.” He gestured towards their surroundings. The sparse decorations, the barren furnishings, the lack of an air conditioner. “And the Order isn’t exactly the wealthiest religious denomination in Nocturnia.”

Of course, most of their wealth had been funneled into gang conflicts instead, but what could you do about that? It was just the way of the city.

“That’s fine, I - we could make it alot richer don’t you think?”

“Money’s tight; got a pyramid to sell me?”

“I could move the world for you, but only if you’re interested. You got a thing, I got a thing. We could do some real good, or bad~”

“If I were at the podium, this would be a wonderful time to go over how one man’s virtue is another man’s sin, but…” He folded his hands over his lap, clasping them together. “Cut to the chase, for real. Even the Canary speaks in less riddles than you.”

Well, he didn’t speak in riddles at all, most of the time.

“You wanna team up, make some cash - deal with some bad guys? Further your agenda, it’s boring being alone.”

“Depends on the bad guys, depends on what you can do.” Matthias was going to have to remember her face. Maybe Google her after this. Hopefully the search results didn’t just come back with Clash Royale characters. “If you had your pick of it, who would you want to send on a one-way vacation?”

“Mmmmmmm… Who’s causing you the most problems my dear Prophet?”

“If I said our dear Commissioner, would you take off your mask and reveal that this was a sting operation?”

“No, I’m a bit shocked she’s your biggest threat my dear. We - I, and Leo haven’t even touched you, in the wrong ways - yet.”

So she was a cop? Fuck!

Matthias’s face did not reflect his alarm though. He simply stopped moving for a moment, feigning contemplation as he checked his thoughts at the door and decided to consider whether or not to throw a smoke bomb and crawl underneath a bench.

“The ‘yet’ is a big deal for me,” he said. “I already received one threatening phone call from her, and other informants have been trying to con me out of cash in exchange for info on how to court her properly.”

Though that threatening phone call was self-inflicted, and he bungled the ‘courting’ even after having paid for the info. So really, it was all kinda his own fault.

Emily rolled her shoulders with a shrug, she was sly like most ‘good cops’ were. A vixen with a badass agenda, who would share in her fortune or woes would ultimately be up to them. “That’s cute, a harassing phone call. I could do soooo much worse, she can’t touch you. Mmmm, you stress too much. You and those floating… gas.. Brain cells of yours still full of cortisol. Listen I can help you, I’m not a evil bitch who will extort you for cash. I hope you’re not assuming I’m some monster because I’m a detective right~?”

“People who claim to be able to help me usually end up being one kind of monster or the other. Detective or not.” He dragged his hand through his head, smoke curling into his palm before diffusing into the air. “And I just don’t have any brain at all, Clash. No clue how I’m still kicking or how my body works, so yeah.”

“Hard to trust me I get it, ‘specially with me being so cute. So what’ll take, or do not get in bed with monsters? Faith thing right, I respect it. These mean Noc Noc streets don’t, I see potential in you besides being a hit out of a big ass bong y’know?”

“I can’t sleep either, if you’re interested in that bit of trivia. Bed’s kinda not a thing anymore.”

The Lodestar leaned back, thinking over his next moves. He could visualize Nocturnia in his mind, the fluctuating territories that changed almost as swiftly as night turned to day.

“Tell me, what’s your jurisdiction?”

“Pffftt… Anywhere and anywhere, listen if I put a fish bowl over that voidless head of yours would it contain it?”

“Obviously. It’s just smoke, after all. Or fog. Or mist. Or whatever. Really not giving me much to work with though, detective. Can’t tell you what it’d take if, you know, I know nothing about you.”

“Oh you want to know about me, well pray tell what do you want to know? I could sit on your lap and tell you my deepest, darkest secrets. Think of it as confession.. Or I could tell you the mundane things but what’s the fun in that padre~?

“Two truths and a lie. Make it spicy.” A pause. “But no need to sit on my lap. I’m not that kinda priest.”

“Hmmm.. I’ve used my badge to get out of a ticket, I can sometimes make people do what I want and I love naughty criminals. That what you’re looking for?”

“Can’t imagine you’d have needed a badge for that.” Not to mention that traffic cops were a dying breed in a city where you’d need a lottery-winning amount of luck to come across someone who didn’t have either the political clout or the firepower to make being ticketed for speeding inadvisable. “None of it seems all that dark or controversial though.”

Not that he was going to trade his own secrets in public just like that.

“I’ll put a card on the table though. Vincent’s been leaving his mark all over my territory, and White Pine’s religious community deserves the Order’s help. What can you offer there?”

“Against Vincent or with your turf preacherman?”

“To ‘safeguard’ White Pine,” was Matthias’s response. “So I suppose it’s a little bit of this, a little bit of that.” If Adel was here, he’d probably warn about making too many enemies, hm?

“I can offer some poking action to his assets, maybe lend an arm or too. I’m stretching my side of Noc Noc City, there is always room for people like you over on the east side preacherman.”

“Ah, but therein lies the problem of being a gentle soul. There’s orphanages, aid organizations, and educators all to the east of me now. None of the cutthroat bastards I’d be happy illuminating.”

“So you need me to come in from the east my dear friendo?”

“If you could help my people complete a pilgrimage to, say, Elysium Heights or Corlet, that would be fortunate.” Matthias winked. It was a pointless gesture. His smoke-face did absolutely nothing. “You’d certainly earn my vote, next time a Commissioner needs to be appointed.”

“Send me the details I’ll help your people, you can write me into your faith. Saint Newport.. Don’t depict me too scandily clad, or do~”

“I’ll set aside an entry that praises cops who know to bend the rules to benefit the people.”

He stood up. The church had filled up at this point.

“Now, do you intend on staying for the service?”

A hand is extended to her better, gassy head floated friend as Emily awaited to be assisted to rejoin the living. 

“No, I’m a busy girl but if you want to take my number down. I’ll update you on your pilgrims, and maybe you can call me back. I’d love to have an artist draw me nude for my saint painting, drop the whole thank cops - you can praise me more directly.” A sultry girlish giggle emitted out of her maw as she waited for her pastor to lend a helping hand.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Matthias spoke, taking her hand in his as he helped her up. It was a farce, as far as gentlemanly behavior went. She could probably fold him like a pretzel; he was using all his willpower just to ignore the protests coming from his stitches. But still, the illusion must persist.

He brought her hand up to where his lips might have been, but instead, turned her palm upwards so she could pull some of his Amorpheus head out with her.

“In any case, I do hope I’ll have learned your real name before our next encounter. And with regards to being a ‘big ass bong’...well, consider it a Gyft.”

Emily giggled as her hand entered or edged near his Gasious Gyft. She wafted some of the gas to her nostril taking a second hand hit, her pupils dilated for a moment as a searching hand sleuthed down his cold body from collar bone down to his waist above the belt line. She skillfully avoided those ‘torturted bits’ on his torso, her sensual touch ending almost as soon as it started.

“Mmmmm.. It’s Emily, Emily Newport. Don’t forget it preacherman, you’ll be beside me at the top of this city. I’ll save that for another day hun.”
A meeting was swiftly planned after Adel had sent a message stating he’d obtained the information he’d been paid for. Gossip and rumors traveled fast within the city, and with various factions on the move people had to be even faster to get the facts first in order to have any kind of advantage over their rivals. And so the Silver Canary prepared to host the Order of Enlightenment’s leader in Silverside early the next morning.

Adel looked as put together was usual, despite the pinched brow that seemed to be stuck in place. Clearly everything he’d learned the night before -both on his own and what his staff had reported- was affecting him. Mildly. But as he was notified of his current client’s arrival he attempted to wipe all of that from his face, and stepped out of his private office.

Matthias didn’t have anything on his face that needed to be wiped off to begin with.

On the other hand, of course, it wasn’t as if he cared enough about projecting strength and invulnerability to walk into Adel’s office on foot. As it were, the Lodestar sat in his wheelchair, hands folded over his lap. There was a sterile smell pervading from him, the bandages and stitches on his body hidden by a suit that he almost definitely did not put on himself, and he was accompanied by a dark-skinned man in similarly formal attire, his golden eyes seeming to smoulder briefly at Adel’s entrance, before he nodded to the Canary instead. The worshipper, or perhaps bodyguard, took a step back, as if signalling a total disavowal from engaging with the conversation, while Matthias sat up slightly straighter.

“Good morning, Mr. Dawson,” Matthias spoke. “Things have been progressing faster than I had expected, and now the Del Guarde are decidedly on the back foot. I hope you’ve uncovered something able to ensure a successful removal of their presence?”

Adel was taken aback by the sight of Matthias wheelchair bound. He hadn't known the man to need one before, so clearly something had happened. He didn't comment on it, at least not in front of everyone else. His gaze flickered from Matthias to his man, lingering briefly on the unfamiliar face. Then, finally, he stepped to one side and gestured for Matthias to join him behind more closed doors. None of the canaries were fool enough to even want to try anything, including the Silver himself.

"Good morning. I've got what you asked for - whether it'll help stamp them out for good is up to you." Adel replied. He shut the door and rounded his desk only to grab a few loose documents, and now that they could speak a little more frankly he asked, "what the hell happened to you?"

Matthias followed after, gloved hands gripping the wheels and pushing himself into a more private room, as the other man turned to take in the view from the window instead.

After getting situated in a more private space, he stretched out his hands, rolled his shoulder, and sat back against his chair. “Just the Nocturnia special, Mr. Dawson. Sent a ghost-lady over to kidnap me within the hour of the Order’s encroachment upon Merryland. I answered her questions, she thought I was lying, and then the military do what they do whenever they think the public wouldn’t know.” It was a remarkably blase way of putting things, considering how the memories themselves were plenty vivid in Matthias’s mind. But what could you do, in the end? “Figured you’d have found out about it already, but I suppose I didn’t even stay kidnapped for a night.”

If Adel felt any sort of guilt over not reporting Phade's existence sooner, he did not have the decency to show it.

"Guess that's the danger in doing business in this city. Glad to see you're still alive, at least," he commented. What more was he supposed to say to that anyway, 'sorry that happened'? He'd just leave the warning out of the report now that it was redundant. "Here."

The brunette handed Matthias the paperwork. Included were neatly typed notes on all of Sergeant Glyde's key players, as well as the man himself. They were recreations of the dossiers he'd looked at, and as military records they included quite a bit of information: age, rank, old wounds, family status, and any abilities developed since being stationed in Nocturnia. There was also a page that looked like a short stat sheet on a weapon and the police station's blueprints. After passing the documents over Adel dropped into his own seat. Honestly he would have preferred to stand but since he still had to get 'friendly' with Matthias he didn't want to flaunt his able bodiedness; though he doubted it would have caused the other man any offense it was better safe than sorry.

"Del Guarde's elite," he said, summarizing the information, "and what they got flown in. A gatling gun and its ammunition. Goes to show how much restraint they have since they didn't end up using it yet. A true blooded Nocturnian mobster would have turned it loose the second they got it.

"Assuming they don't bust it out any time soon I've got the code for where they keep it too. It's all in there." Adel gestured briefly to the pages. "They were going to use it to take Heavy Crossguard. Now, I wouldn't be surprised if they used it to keep you and your allies out of Yellow Brick."

He leaned back in his chair, regarding Matthias with a slight tilt of his head. "He -Sergeant Glyde- is pretty desperate right now. He even called me up this morning."

Matthias let out a low whistle as he scanned the documents. Considering how little time there was, the Canary had worked fast. But that was why he got paid, after all, while all Cyrus got was his emails tossed into the Spam folder. Sergeant wasn’t too high up in the military echelon, but he was still a proper officer. Whether that meant that this was the best the military could do, or if it meant that the military was still holding back, well…

“Doesn’t take that much restraint,” Matthias replied. “They’re fighting defensively now, so I’d imagine they’d save it for the ‘best’ moment.” He perused the records for a while longer, but only really paid attention to the Gyfts that were developed. Military weapons were powerful, but Gyfts were unpredictable. With the right Gyft, after all, one could even survive a vacuum bomb.

“Must’ve been a busy morning for you then, Mr. Dawson. Got a good deal after applying desperation taxes?”

"You could say that. Didn't say much about you, though, if you were worried about it."

Adel let one hand rest on the desk while the other slipped into his pants pocket. "Speaking of deals, I think we had a pretty good one. I'll take cash or wire. I've got some other information, unrelated but definitely interesting, if you're in the market for more."

Couldn't hurt to pitch the man more, he figured, shamelessly. "Looked into that drug you found too."

“Check your accounts.”

The Canary blinked, then a small unassuming smile briefly appeared on his face. "Your punctuality is what I appreciate about you."

With payment received and information delivered, there wasn't much more to their meeting if the Lodestar wasn't interested in what else Adel had to offer at the moment. So there was really only one thing left.

"So what's next?"

“What else, but Vincent’s newest drug? I’ve had my own look into it; care to swap notes?” The Del Guarde could hold for a while longer, but with this information, Asterion’s advance would certainly be made more easily once the bullets started flying. Still, better to keep eggs and baskets on an equal ratio in this City. Better to keep an eye out for new opportunities, new enemies to make.

“Received word from Cyrus as well.” He pulled out his phone from his jacket’s inner pocket, but didn’t turn it on yet. “Looks like he’s getting in on the same business, so to speak.”

"Of course he is." That certainly didn't surprise him. Adel drummed his fingers lightly on the desk. "My guys busted their asses last night finding out about this stuff. Literally. But thanks to that I can tell you where it's made and what it does."

Adel paused, considering whether to try and get Matthias to fork over more money for the low  down on Sugarcrush. The man's physical state didn't really inspire much sympathy in Adel, but in the effort of continuing to foster a business and personal relationship it might be best to reign in his usual money minded ways. "I'd be interested to see what you found."

Well shit.

Matthias had been hoping Adel would share the details first. His own people weren’t nearly so fast in terms of research and chemistry as the Canary’s flock was; his entire plan had been to simply make a promise to share research through an e-mail or something. But now? If he revealed that the Order’s own progress was still…progressing, that’d basically be like telling Adel to crank up the pricing, hm?

Time to make shit up then. Lying was basically what he did every hour of every day, after all. It’d have come as easily as breathing, but he didn’t even really breathe anymore.

“The Order’s uncovered more traces of this drug elsewhere in Nocturnia. There’s Pauper Street, of course, and Heavy Crossguard, but also Corlet, Smoke Risers, and…Penny Stakes.” He let that last district linger in the air, for no reason other than to use a ‘dramatic pause’ to let his thoughts catch up to his mouth. “Vincent’s been spreading his work like a conman, using local pushers as the middleman, no doubt to soften up those areas to be more pliable for his own purposes.” 

The Lodestar spun his phone in his hands. If he had a face, he’d be trying his hardest to look hard-boiled and serious, with a tinge of humane concern as he lied through his teeth.

“We may be looking at the second coming of the Purple Haze.”

Adel bit the inside of his cheek as he stared into the billowing smoke across from him. "Even worse."

It was hard to tell when a person without a face was lying. There could be other tells besides facial tics of course, though body language could be misleading when someone was stressed and injured. It could have been possible for Matthias to deceive Adel, were it not for one mistake he'd made. There was absolutely no way Vincent could have pushed his product into Penny Stakes, and certainly not so soon if he was planning to. "If it's actually that widespread."

Adel leaned forward to rest both of his elbows on the dark wood. Besides the comment casting doubt, he didn't outright call Matthias out. The members of his Order could have just been mistaken after all. As much as it didn't feel right to Adel, there was also the task he'd been given -always on the edge of his thoughts since yesterday morning- to consider.

"Since this could be a huge problem, I'll let you know what we found out." His gaze flickered about the plumes of the other man's face. "Would you extend my free pass in Waterfront Vale? Add Riverbend too."

Phew. Looks like the lie worked!

“An extra week in Waterfront Vale then,” Matthias replied smoothly. “But no for Riverbend. You want some time in Merryland instead? Del Guarde evacuated most of their men and arms, but as for their comms equipment…”

It was clear what that offer was for.

After lacing his fingers together and resting his chin on them, Adel regarded Matthias calmly. On the outside. On the inside he thought about how difficult dealing with this guy was. Well, at least dealing with him when he was trying to be friendly without outright abandoning his sense of pride. The brief sense of relief from across the desk at getting away with his words was palpable enough that Adel nearly gave the game away by clenching his teeth.

Aaah, this was so annoying. Fuck Ezra, really. It was his fault.

"That sounds fine," he said eventually. With a slight shake of his head to refocus Adel shifted in his seat and moved on. "As for Sugarcrush, you were right - it is gyft related. It's partly made with coke, but besides the high it also... forces a gyft on the user."

He wasn't sure if that was the right way to put it. Maybe it just sped up the process of developing one? But he wasn't a scientist or a spiritualist or anything like that, so he couldn't say.

"And it works fast. Really fast."

“Tsk.”

It didn’t matter, in that moment, whether it was a random Gyft or a specific Gyft that the Sugarcrush granted. It didn’t matter either, whether or not such a development was temporary or permanent. Matthias honestly didn’t even care that the production of such a drug was bottlenecked by the Gyft user who could create it. As far as he was aware, Nocturnia was unique in the entire world, and while the military contained its populace within these giant walls, it also shielded its citizens from the encroachment of foreign powers. 

On an individual to individual basis, it was impossible to tell how long it would take for one to develop a Gyft, after all. Some got it when they were children, others got it when a traumatic event triggered it, still more never noticed they got it because the Gyft simply wasn’t obvious. If a drug could immediately trigger the awakening of a Gyft though?

Even if it was a below average Gyft, being able to apply it to, say, an entire army would dramatically boost up capabilities in a way that would permanently alter how things worked on a geopolitical scale.

As a child, Matthias had imagined Nocturnia to be a zoo.

As an adult, Matthias had imagined Nocturnia to be a crucible.

“Alright, that sounds bad if anyone outside hears about this.” Would be bad even if the police heard about this; they were the ones who were nominally in closest contact with the military and the government, after all. “You mentioned you knew ‘where’ as well.”

"Mhm. Not a big surprise that he keeps production close. Unless they moved operations overnight, it comes out of White Pine."

Well, convenient in one way, inconvenient in the other.

“Timing’s off, but I can work with that. After the Del Guarde issue’s dealt with, I’ll see who I can gather to get in on Vincent’s bullshit. Keep in touch, Mr. Dawson.”

There was hardly enough time in the day for niceties, when Nocturnia balanced on the edge of catastrophe seemingly every month or so. Matthias gripped the wheels of his chair and spun away for the door.

You better believe I will, Adel thought to himself, letting a hand come up to rub his temple when Matthias' back was turned. That could have gone a lot better, but whatever. He still had time, he reminded himself again. At the very least he'd learned a little more about Matthias, and though there was emphasis to be put on 'a little' something was always better than nothing. He was fundamentally different from Adel, one of the types that felt Nocturnia was best isolated from the rest of the world perhaps. And he was an unrepentant liar. Neither came as a surprise, given the man ran a cult.

A petty part of Adel wanted to leave Matthias to handle opening the door himself, see him struggle a little, or else knock on it and get his man outside to do it. Fortunately he didn't often give in to such impulses.

"Open the door," he said with a slight warble, loud enough that it was conceivable someone beyond it would hear him. Less than a second later the doorknob clicked and the door gently swung itself open before Matthias. "And kindly see our guests out."

He left the door open after said guests began to make their way to the exit. He sighed, finally extracting a carton of cigarettes from his pocket and rifling through a drawer for a lighter. Just as he stuck one into his mouth and touched the flame to its tip, a quiet beeping noise drew his eyes to the little laptop barely open on his desk. He pushed the top up to see the screen. The message displayed made his brows jump up in surprise.

The door stayed open, stopped by the man in the wheelchair who had frozen at that same moment, reading a message displayed upon his phone.

Matthias rolled back into Adel’s office. The two meet each other’s eyes (or at least, Matthias thought they did). Then, calmly, steadily, he slid his phone back into his pocket and folded his hands over his lap.

“Well, the Del Guarde’s issue has been dealt with.” Asterion, it seemed, had been utterly undeterred by the gatling. “Let’s talk about the Thorned Roses.”
To say it was a shit show was an understatement. Glyde, Darian and Snow had to walk away from a burning PD station they had put their sweat and blood into. To add insult to injury, they had to walk away from a damaged Gatling gun too.

Not to mention the uncertainty in the air of how Asterion Kairo intended to kill the rest of his men. Glyde was furious. Not at his men or his operatives. No, he was furious at himself. He had every advantage, and he squandered it.

And now they had nothing. Five undercover military outted and known. The operation was a bust. He didn't know how to go about this. Though he knew, returning home wasn't an option. They had placed him here, and like hell he was gonna let some other muck mess around with his city.

After walking down two blocks away from the PD station, Phade came around with one of the patrol vans.

”Hop in, losers.” She said, that stupid grin somehow on her face.

Glyde didn't say a word to Phade, instead gesturing to the operatives following him. ”Get in the back, I'll take the front. This isn't over.”

Snow nodded, ”Understood, sir.”

So, Snow, Darian and Sylvia loaded up in the back of the transport van. Glyde slid into the passenger seat, and gestured to the street. 

”Get us out of this district, Phade.”

”Pleasure, boss.”

“Yup, a pleasure!”

A fist drove through bulletproof glass, then jammed two metal nodes against the driver’s neck. An instant later, the stench of ozone and burnt skin filled the air as the stun gun did its work, Phade’s body convulsing at the electrical current. The hand retracted after the job was done, and now, all that could be seen through the cracked window was the dark fabric of a nun’s habit.

Not that Lenore was the type to let people wait in suspense.

The van’s door was wrenched off next, the screech sounding like the cawing of a vulture as metal warped and hinges burst. What stood there was a woman with only a single, red eye. Her dark purple hair refused to be tamed by her coif; her tunic was pleated, cut at a scandalous length. She flashed a set of white teeth towards Glyde, then seized the unconscious Phade by the throat and flung her out next, the seatbelt hardly protesting before being ripped apart. That’d leave a mark, if the woman survived to see another day.

“So,” she said, in obvious high spirits, “I count four of you, and just one little ol’ me. Wanna try, soldier boy?”

The anger at seeing his merc defeated in an instant was suppressed. Asterion was thorough, but he never did remove their guns when they kicked the militants out of Yellow Brick.

So it was a simple matter of pressing the butt of his rifle into his shoulder and firing off a spritz of bullets, each infused with electricity. Even if they grazed the woman, they'd send her into a similar painful, unconscious state.

The Lodestar had wanted Glyde alive, but firearms were so scary! He’d forgive her for acting in self-defense. And hey, if the Sergeant and his folks couldn’t survive this, they were going to be useless for His Holiness’s designs anyhow.

Lenore twisted her body, moving nearly in sync with the turning of the rifle’s muzzle. Lightning-blessed bullets streaked past where she had just been an instant before, their trajectories igniting the air. Covered for a moment, she squatted down, grabbed the underside of the transport van, and…

“Seatbelts on?”

…flipped the entire vehicle over, sending it in the air before it landed decisively upon its roof.

”Gahh-!”

The crunch of metal was jarring, enough so that Glyde rifle was wrenched from his hands, cluttering to the roof which was now below them. He hung there, suspended, seeing stars, his seatbelt biting into his shoulder. 

”E-everyone okay?” he called out, attempting to find his combat knife to undo the belt. There was a murmured groan of ‘Yes, Sarge’ from within the vehicle.

Scraping his mind for ideas, he blurted out, ”Special Frostfare, use your gyft on the Order hostile the moment they come in contact with the van-”

The van lurched again right as those words left Glyde’s lips. Those in the back could see it: hand imprints gripping the chassis of the vehicle before a sense of weightlessness took them a second time. For a tranquil moment, they were neither pinned to their seats nor choked by their belts.

But like all amusement park rides, what followed suspense was descent, as the transport van was slammed down back first into the ground. Pavement cracked, metal warped, the hyena-cackle of a subhuman freak going on all the while. In the one-eyed nun’s hands, it was like an aluminum can, being crushed from bottom-up.

“C’mon Sergeant! Which bigwig did you piss off, that they didn’t even prepare you for what passes as normal in the City?”

The whiplash was instant. And the crash jarring enough that it sent the combat knife skittering away from Glyde's hand. There were choked strangles in the back, followed by silence. That might have been enough to knock Snow unconscious.

Glyde blinked stars away, in a world of pain, before he gritted his teeth and called out hoarsely, ”We yield! Stop, please!”

Her blood ran hot, her emotions hotter, Vulcan descending upon her skull and pushing against her brain. Did it matter what he said if she pretend she couldn’t hear him? Was there any value in keeping this worm alive, when his survival instincts were so lacking that it was only with the military’s propping he got anywhere? Did this benefit the Order? Did this benefit her?

Lenore let out a steaming hiss of a sigh, a kettle boiling over, the contents within bubbling. This was hardly enough. She was a battering ram, put to bear against a fucking birthday cake. She was a behemoth, forced to wait in line alongside the sheep. She was a priestess, pure and powerful, drenched in the pleasure of villainy. Her muscles tautened further, the blood-rage sinking into her marrow.

And that is why you desire more than what you have.

Was this even fun?

Lenore stopped, the kettle unplugged. Contents hot, but no longer broiling. She fumbled for her skirt pocket, pulling out a silver canister the length of her pinky finger. Let out a snort to confirm which nostril was working at the moment. Then, she jammed the canister up her nostril, pressed a nozzle on the bottom end, and allowed the Lodestar’s Discipline to seep into her brain, separating the rational mind from the passions of the flesh.

“Fine.”

Compared to the hyena-devil from before, there was no longer any emotion within the tone. In the absence of challenge, in the absence of prey that would neither fight nor flee, Lenore couldn’t be bothered anymore. The canister dropped to the ground; she crushed it underfoot. The van was placed down afterwards, back on two wheels that still functioned and two wheels that had been crushed beyond repair. She stared at it, intrusive thoughts sinking in. It would be easy to make it appear an accident still. She hated escort missions. Still thought nothing about military professionals who haven’t even suffered a full life in Nocturnia yet. The Borosi Incident. Candy Carnage’s Purple Haze. The Mechanical Society. Coujin de Familia.

In a hell that would cause even devils to lament, what value was there of sheep whose flock, whose brethren, lived in cozy little communes beyond the walls?

By the time her thoughts had germinated properly, Lenore found that she had lost her appetite for fearmongering, so she stepped to the passenger window once more, where Glyde, by some kind of miracle, had managed to stay behind. Airbags had burst out sometime between the first and second impact, white fabric stained with bright blood, but she didn’t care too much.

“A message from the Lodestar, Glyde.” Her eye was dull and dark. Steam came off her skin. “The old offer has expired, and the new one is as such: work under the Order and learn what it means to live in Nocturnia.”

A pause. This was the point that she vehemently disagreed with him on.

“If not, he will assist in your departure from the City.”

Glyde hissed under his breath. What an ultimatum. His eyes squeezed shut, feeling the blood rushing to his brain. It made it hard to think, yes, but there was only one thing he knew.

Above all else, the mission held priority. Maybe this would prove beneficial, instead of a hindrance. The only thing he was hurting now was his pride, at this point.

”...Fine.” He choked out. ”We’ll play your game. We’ll work under you.”

“Ok.”

Lenore drew out her sword. It was a dull, hefty kind of thing. The thing that was more just a chunk of metal plate than a sharpened, battle-ready blade forged for medieval war. She tossed it over.

“To start with, he asks you to give up your hands.”

There was neither sympathy nor glee on her face. Just the bored look of a manager watching a newbie work on the factory lines.

Glyde's face turned white, staring at the blade, before fixing Lenore with a grim look. ”You gotta be fucking kidding me.”
With the previous deal successfully closed, Antonio’s fingers danced across the keypad of the phone. Time to find Nep. The phone rang as Antonio tapped away at the bar until he eventually found himself speaking to his next potential partner.

“Matthias FitzClarence. It’s so nice to speak to the man responsible for giving the people of this city so much unity and hope. My name is Antonio Litwin. I would like to offer you an unorthodox donation to assist the efforts of the church and yourself, and if I might be so bold, request assistance to further the peace your organisation offers Nocturnia.”

“Antonio Litwin, of the Jolly Jalopy, yes?” The man was a legend, longer-lived than most mob bosses and police chiefs, no doubt. An immortal bartender and his inviolable domain, unchanged even as the Brewery District went through its ups and downs over the decades. “It is an honor to hear from you. The efforts I put forth are only an imitation of the sanctum that your own establishment has become.”

Antonio recoiled slightly, somewhat flattered even. “Truly a man of the community.” Collecting himself he tried to recover a more professional tone. “I'm honoured to hear you hold my little bar in such high regard, but please don't undersell yourself. Word is your faith has begun to retake this city of ours, even from those masquerading as our own.”

Antonio's fingers tapped on the phone. “And that brings me to what I wish to assist you with. This flashpoint must be a strain on your manpower. Should you accept my donation, I can arrange some men well versed in the violence of action to assist you. All I ask is that you consider assisting me with the detainment of a man so that he might not accidentally harm your people.”

“In a city of violence and passion, of addictions and those who crave it, I simply find it a worthwhile cause to remind others that there are greater things to be found than the bottom of a bottle or the end of a barrel.” That was truly pointless flattery, coming from someone who helmed a radical cult with a history of bloodshed, but it was true that the Lodestar was guiding the direction of communities towards a more peaceful, sensible place. Even if it was only for his own gain. He let Antonio’s offer hang in the air for a moment, then allowed himself a small laugh.

“If it’s the matter of the Del Guarde you were concerned about, there’s no need to worry, Mr. Litwin. The news may take a bit longer to reach over to the Brewery District, but from my vantage point, they have all but been vanquished, with most of the heavy lifting done by Kairos.” Terrifying in its own way, no doubt. Such a show of force, claiming two districts within the span of a morning, would no doubt set Delacroix at edge too. “But I am willing to protect my people regardless. Tell me about this man.”

Antonio chuckled. “I'm well aware of Del Gaurde’s demise. That is exactly why I'm offering you this little donation. You don't think the armies of the world that surround us aren't going to notice their little expeditionary force just vanished in a day did you? You've begun to walk the path of the warrior, and your options now are to live by the sword that you've swung with so much passion or find yourself impaled upon it.” Antonio scrunched his eyes. “You're not so naive to think the outside world wouldn't react to your violence are you?”

“My violence is restrained compared to my peers.”

And his foes, apparently. Certainly, Matthias hadn’t expected one of the visitors of his Church today to have been the same woman who ordered a helicopter-mounted minigun to turn a whole gang of men into bloody mist. There were full-blooded monsters out there. Some leashed by his Discipline, others striding upon their own blood-stained paths. If the armies outside knew what laid within, they’d have turned Nocturnia to ash decades ago.

Though that’d have only filtered out the ones that the military didn’t have to fear.

“But if you’re truly offering this from the goodness of your heart, Mr. Litwin, then I shall accept your kind offer. Now please. Tell me about this man.”

Antonio sighed. “I agree it might be more restrained overall, yes, but the violence of others does not target those who think themselves our jailors so recklessly.” He shook his head. “Regardless, I’ll settle that point on that I hope the rumblings in my network are wrong. My business then. A man named Nep Wach. He possesses a rather dangerous Gyft. One beyond his control that can turn those around him to madness. I would rather he be in my detainment than walking your streets and turning an average day into an orgy of blood. For this I offer my own men. The question is, how many would you request?”

“An average day is an orgy of blood. But I understand what you mean.” There was silence on the line for a spell. The thing about cults was that personnel came easy. Skills, on the other hand? The pilgrimage would take time to put together, and he had promises to fulfill for the populace of Pauper Town and Merryland as well. Matthias pressed his thumbs together. “How many of them fancy themselves handymen? The construction type, not the secretive-murder type.”

Antonio raised an eyebrow. “All the boys are versed well enough in fieldcraft, but not fit for what you're suggesting I imagine.” A smile began to creep across Antonio’s face. “They are however fantastic fixers. Not just drugs and guns. Materials, plans, people. Simply tell them what you need and they’ll source what, or who, you require for your work.”

“The special trade of Nocturnia, no doubt. Does three of your fixers sound fair, Mr. Litwin?”

“Three sounds like a perfectly sized team to get the job done without attracting too much attention. I’ll send them on their way shortly.” Antonio went to close the phone but hesitated. He thought it might be worth trying to share a warning one last time. “This one is free. There’s rumours of headhunters. Military. None quite like this city has seen, even during warzone 13. I’ve only had the luxury of glimpsing the details of one such dossier and if the rest are anything like her, then people like us would do well to be wary of keeping our security tight. And before you remind me that your violence is above the rest of us, you’ve already been abducted once, and these hunters won’t want to chat. Best of luck, Lodestar.”

“Wait wh-”

But the call ended there, and Matthias was left only with more questions, further disappointments. Even more military motherfuckers? And he was expected to find a guy based off of name alone? Ugh, and while he had all the respect in the world for a reasonable kinda person like Antonio, ‘forceful’ gifts as these were always a pain in the ass to deal with. Over time, even gold turned to bronze. Or something like that.

The Lodestar could feel another headache beginning to build up. More worries, and after a problem was just recently handled as well! Had to navigate a relationship with Asterion post-Del Guarde, had to figure out how to dance around Clash now that he’s found out she’s a proper psychopath, had to deal with the whole thing regarding the remnants of the Del Guarde, had to prepare, endlessly, for the oncoming of the Commissioner, had to continually think about what exactly the fuck Vincent was up to with the Sugarcrush, had to…

“Mannnnnnnnnn.”

In the privacy of his room, Matthias turned into a potato-slug. He’ll give himself this at least. Maybe an hour of just flopping in a way that minimized the mental pain of being the Lodestar and the physical pain of having gotten sliced up and shocked not even 12 hours ago.

He gave himself that hour.

It was wonderful, but it was not an hour.

Lying on a bed he couldn't sleep in, staring up at the ceiling, his thoughts pointing towards nothing.

But as he daydreamed, a hydra manifested before him, a beast with far more heads than he had limbs. And he could no longer rest. He could only pace. Pace before a wall where a map of Nocturnia laid, a collage of photographs and colored string crisscrossing over all of it until the map itself had become entirely obscured. This was the City of Neon Light, after all. Its colorful hues drowned out even the shape of the buildings and streets, made it impossible to tell the difference between rainfall and blood. Factions, present and past, rattled themselves off in his head, their scattered members reminding him of threats that existed on every corner, every roof, every passing car, every blackened heart.

He wondered, on occasion, whether it'd be a mercy to have a nervous breakdown.

But his Gyft robbed him even of insanity, forcing him to bear with a clear mind the pressure of balancing a tri-branched scale, when the foundation he built was nothing but of hoaxes and delusions, of a promise he could hardly deliver.

It was all he had, Nocturnia.

He could not run away. There was no normal life waiting for him on the other side, not with a head like this.

Military headhunters. Vincent's Sugarcrush. Glyde and his squad. Adel's uncharacteristic charity. Clash's sycophant behavior. Antonio's request. The Commissioner's constant threat. The favor that he owed Cyrus. The ever-present voices of the Order of Enlightenment, demanding their Lodestar guide the way to a paradise within the walls, a utopia of learning and knowledge, where one thought twice before throwing a stone, where the innovation and creativity of the human spirit was not stifled by the demands of crime and punishment, the yoke of capital and servitude.

Matthias looked at his phone. Through a window the size of his palm, he saw beaches and mountains, saw the sun dip below the prairies, saw the white foam of the ocean, saw the Earth from the viewpoint of a bird. Saw meteor showers and eclipses, a sea of stars that forced even heathens to believe in cosmic beauty.

He saw a mother, hugging her PhD graduate of a son.

He swiped to a different app.

"Lenore, gather up your people. We're taking Lougham."
Order: W -0.5, Canary: W +0.5
Order: P +3, Antonio: P -3
Del Guarde Assimilated Into The Order of Enlightenment
The Invasion of Lougham Begins
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