Pub - The Dubliner(#4865RXJM)

A haze hangs upon the air within the confines of these walls. It is a
mixture of smoke, the kind that is emitted by the raspy cough of a habitual
smog-puffing derelict. Several paneled pillars rise from warped wooden planks
to the ceiling above. Though old and the room dimly lit the floor planks are
squeaky clean. A long bar runs the north wall with a multitude of stools. Too
many have ripped seat covers with tufts of white cottony fabric peeking out
from beneath the vinyl. Some have been patched with duct tape. Most all of the
chairs, surrounding their scarred oaken tables, are in the same condition.
A lone pool table resides at the back of the room upon an elevated
platform. Numerous barstools line the counter that runs the circumference of
this section. The table was once a fine piece of wood craftsmanship until the
occasional knife stroked its surface with violence. The felt has so many pills
upon the surface that it rivals any sweater within the known world
Throughout the bar beautiful coloured pictures of Ireland are posted on
the walls along with large colourful posters advertising Irish beer and
beverages. The crowded dance floor in the middle of the bar is always full of
people dancing jigs and singing loudly along with the vibrant music. The dance
floor itself is scuffed and worn bare from all the dancing feet. Everyone in
here seems to be loud and rowdy, all of them drunk. Fistfights often break out
though not usually right near the bar.

NIGHTZONE


Contents:
Alexander
Seamus

Alexander opens the padded door and enters the pub.
Alexander has arrived.

Alexander wanders into the pub accompanied by two dirty looking fellows. By the markings on their clothes, they could be gangers or bikers. Turning to face them once they have entered, he lays his hand on one of the men's shoulders. Exchanging some words, the both of them steps back outside before much more attention then that surrounding the entrance has befallen them. Alone, he proceeds over to the counter.

Alexander read your description.


In the back of the bar, Penny continues to add nothing but haze to the atmosphere, her cigarette in an ashtray. The loss of interest is mutual, in a moment it will snuff itself out, ash and a lack of oxygen overtaking the tiny orange ember. It will happen most likely in the same minute she chooses to answer the phone she left on top of the table next to the ashtray. She watches it vibrate on the table in its holder, shuttling back and forth like a demented mexican jumping bean.

Alexander lays his hand in what might be interpreted as an instrusive manner over the arm of a waitress just recieving an order from the bartender. He says something quietly to her, making sure to hold onto her arm for the five second long speech. Proceeding across the room, he slows beside your table, although not apparing as if it was his destination, rather he was just about to pass it. He eyes you, then cellphone, and you again. Reaching his hand down, he aims to pick it up and answer it.

Isobel opens the padded door and enters the pub.
Isobel has arrived.

//.etro: It is 9:20 pm, late evening, on Friday the 12. day of December, 2008.
Isobel slips into the pub and moves towards the door, lifting a hand to wave as Seamus looks up
Isobel sits down at the bar.

Isobel leans forward as she slides onto the bar stool, speaking in her soft Irish brogue she sounds a lot like most of the regulars, or not depending on if you are a regular yourself, "hello there Seamus, I would be having a pint" she then sits back in the curve of the worn bar stool and glances about

Where would we be without the happy hour?
In barbaric times, that's where.

There's not a chance the guy that got up from the table near Penny's is going to make it to the door before he collapses; been here since 4 by the stink of him and as he collapses into Alexander he grins, goofing "Hey g'lookin'.." and hiccups before passing out on the floor. Common enough for this bar that nobody really turns. Common enough that it doesn't phase Penny. She's just watching the phone. And then it stops ringing, lopsides itself on the far side of the ashtray and everything's back to normal.

Isobel reaches out and snags the pint as it begins to slide its way towards her. Grinning her thanks she takes a sip and then once again glances around the smoke filled bar. Pausing now and then as something entertaining or odd catches her attention. In this place there is plenty of that. Washed and unwashed it would appear

Alexander looks slightly bothered. But just slightly. Brushing his hand once in a dismissive kind of motion over his jacket where the man touched him, he takes a wide step over the drunken patron. The waitress he spoke with just a moment ago is motions towards, and he takes a seat by the table opposite of Penny.

Alexander sits down at the shadowy corner booth.
Alexander joins you.

Anupra has arrived.
[OOC] Anupra peeks in. "Room for one more?"
[OOC] Penny says "Why the hell not."
//.etro: Penny rolls "willpower" at diff 6
For a total of 2 success(es).

Isobel smiles as she spots a rather unusual and indeed amazing sight, even in Dublin not many have pink hair. She observes for another moment and then loosing interest takes another sip. Just glad to relax
Anupra read your description.

Stepping up and in from outside, leaning heavily on her cane with each step, comes Anupra. She peers around the irish-themed bar for a moment, straightening her back before heading slowly towards the counter.

It isn't just that Penny has enough friends. It isn't just that Penny had a bad day. It isn't even just that Penny doesn't want to be bothered thus in the darkest table in the farthest corner; it is all of these things and simply looking at Alexander that moves Penny out of her happy place. Comes through in her voice, at least to that guy, but anyone looking could tell she's not in the mood. "That seat's taken. Take a hike, junior."

Isobel realizes that something is going on across the room but being too far away she just takes another sip of her drink and leans back, wistfully wishing she could kick up her feet and chill

Anupra eventually reaches the bar, sliding up onto a barstool and ordering a glass of cola from the barman. Anyone close enough could easily pick out the southern twang to her accent, her request delivered with a warm smile for the server.

Standingwater opens the padded door and enters the pub.
Standingwater has arrived.

Standingwater moseys on in and heads for the bar. An Indian in cowboy gear walks into an Irish pub. Is this some kind of a joke?

Isobel blinks and then smiles as the gent wearing the battered hat steps in. Having just recently arrived from Europe this is something one would only read about, an indian in cowboy gear. Amusing.

And it's happening in Canada.
Within the booth, Alexander does not move from the table. He lifts a finger as if to interupt you, then begins to fish around inside his pocket. Comming up with a cigarette package, he takes a good while to place one between his lips. Lighting it, he takes a drag and start to reverse the procedure to return the package to his pocket. A moment later, and he glances to you, "Was that to me?"

Anupra relaxes onto her barstool, setting her walking cane against the bar before reaching for her drink, taking a slow sip and peering around the room thoughtfully.

Tom opens the padded door and enters the pub.
Tom has arrived.

Standingwater tilts his hat back as he takes a seat at the bar. "Beer. Nothing fancy."

The bar (#1) has 7 empty places.
Present: Isobel
The pool table (#2) has 4 empty places.
The round table (#3) has 5 empty places.
The square table (#4) has 4 empty places.
The shadowy corner booth (#5) has 4 empty places.
Present: Penny - Alexander
The counter by the pool table (#6) has 7 empty places.
The cigarette machine and pay phone (#7) has 3 empty places.

Downright frozen day for a walk around. Some are of the mind to not even go outside in weather like this - especially not at this late hour, when there's usually no excuse for it. But, then, given an excuse for it...some, like Tom, will sluggishly and torporously meander towards some destination in the frozen weather. Twelve minutes late on the twelfth day of the twelfth month in the year 2008, Tom pushes through the door and quickly pushes it closed behind him against the howling wind. Teeth still chattering, he stands inthe threshold of the door and pats snow off of his arms and shoulders.

Standingwater mumbles something incoherent when his beer finally arrives. For the longest time he just sits there and stares suspiciously at it. Weirdo.

Penny looks at her phone, briefly then to the interloper sitting across from her. "Yeah. And he's gonna want his seat back." Penny can play this game for only so long. She looks around for the waitress or the goon or whoever 'he' is like it's about to go down; everything is immanent. But she has no other props - her one and only cigarette gone out just a few moments before, she sets her hands under the table. Maybe into her lap. Maybe her pockets. Maybe the small off her back - yeah. Her shoulders do that hitching thing when people are reaching for something behind them. Something tucked away nice and small. "So you're leaving, right?"

Isobel slides a few bills out of her pocket and then swigs back the last of her beer.. sighing with pleasure once she sets the pint down on the bar

"Is there something wrong with it?" Anupra inquires casually in Standingwater's direction, head tilted a little. "Too fancy, maybe?" she adds, smiling a little.

Standingwater shakes his head without taking his eyes off the beer. "Just waiting for the mind control drug to seperate out from the beer so I can skim it off. Teh government won't rest until the public is reduced to mindless zombies. Combined with telemarketing and network television... Well, no need to go any futher into that."

Alexander looks up at the waitress having stopped by the table. He taps his chin, looking as if he concidered something or the other. Placing an order, he reaches his arms up and folds them behind his head, making himself comfortable, "Certainly." Although he doesn't seem to be in any real hurry. "Nice make-up. Very.. primal.. modern."

Isobel sighs and then slips from the bar and heads towards the door. Zipping her jacket shut and then taking care with the snaps as she departs
Isobel pushes through the padded door and exits the pub.
Isobel has left.

Eyeing the other amerindian thoughtfully, Anupra eventually shrugs. "Whatever you say....don't touch the stuff myself, so hopefully I'm safe." She gestures to her cola. "Though only god knows what's in this stuff."

Standingwater snags a spoon and starts dipping beer out of his glass into an ashtray. "Worse. Much worse. The alcohol in the beer neutralizes the biological agents the United Nations has been sneaking into our water supply over the years. Notice the dumbing down of the general population. Soon even shoe laces will be too complex. Folks will need these fancy robots to tie their shoes for them." Uh... huh.

You snooze, you lose, right? But somedays you win, and man, some days you do nothing but lose. And it's good for the soul, probably. Builds character, right? So, Tom seems content to snooze a little, lazily making sure his jacket is free of snow before he trudges a long, thin line of wet snow into the room. Brushing a hand over his close cropped hair in what looks like a compulsive gesture, Tom drifts deeper into the meandering evening crowds, through the jig-dancers and step-dancers and carefully around the couple on the dance floor, swimming through the vibrant music, dodging confrontations and potential fist-fights thanks to an eye for human nature. Blind to the greater mass of humanity, he seems to brighten some when he spots Penny - but that's ok, it balances out when he sees the young go-getter sitting with her. Symmetry is, thankfully, maintained by Mister Tall, Dark, and Handsome. Jaw set, he moves towards the shadowy booth in the corner, perhaps a bit wary.

Anupra mmhmms, chuckling quietly at Standingwater's response. "If you say so," she agrees pleasently. "Don't feel too stupid or dumb myself, but maybe I'm just deluded."

Standingwater eyes his beer one more time before finally taking a sip. "Ah. Then the signals broadcast by the Trilateral Commission's satellites aren't having an affect on you. Excellent."

"So can you taste any remaining mind-controlling drugs?" Anupra wonders curiously, brows arching a touch. She seems to be humoring the other barfly for now.

Standingwater shakes his head and sets the beer aside. "I think I got it all."

Anupra nods a bit and goes back to sipping her cola, expression thoughtful, perhaps a touch bemused.

Everything's a gamble - nothing ventured, they say. But let's face it; Penny's not in a betting mood even with the royal flush in her hand. Her hands are still under the table and she's taken a more relaxed posture in the booth; leaning just enough to catch that perfect moment. There is fortune and opportunity staring at her dead-on. She affects the kind of nonchalant grin you see in ads everywhere; ads geared toward the socially irresponsible drinkers of the world, carpe diem. Penny-with-the-off-table-eyecontact makes a target of Tom. "Tried to save you a seat but," her shoulders lifted marginally. This isn't her fault. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go down.

Standingwater goes back to his beer. Mmmmm... Beer.


Alexander motions towards where he is seated, then nods at Tom, "Looks like I should be going after all. Spicy girl you have there, bud." He stands from his seat, grinning at the fellow having approached the table. Snapping his fingers as if he had forgotten something, he turns back to Penny, "Right.. Your phonenumber?"

At the eye-contact as he approaches, Tom looks momentarily caught off guard - maybe just at his first look at her in a long time, maybe something else. Whatever it is, as he approaches, Alexander keeps him off-guard. "Hnh." Precarious, Tom's gaze skims from one to the other... then, finally, he settles his incomprehension on Alexander. "I don't exactly have her," he speaks, the tone a little distracted - drained of emotion one way or the other. "So, uh, feel free," he adds, in an ex post facto endorsement of him asking Penny for her number - the tone indicates sarcasm, however. Sort of like saying 'make yourself at home' to a burgler, really.

While the alarms are going off.
Right.

Penny had started to sit up a little, one hand maybe tucking her shirt in as Alexander takes his leave but maybe now she doesn't. "Got a pen?" something terrible in her smile, in all the attention she's paying to Alexander just now "..it's a little long. I'm" and excuse, an easy segue "borrowing." Every widening, the spectre of insinuation hovers while people shuffle around the paused three-some. Penny can be accommodating when it suits her. She can wait, indicates that with a gesture, a simple leaning to one side.Standingwater finishes off his beer with little fanfare and turns to leave.

Anupra has disconnected.

Alexander opens his jacket to reach into the inside pocket of it. He comes up with a cellphone, flipping it open. Pushing a few buttons, he turns the display to Penny, "Why don't you type it down here, bruiser." A glance is directed Tom, and he asks solemnly, "Did you say something?"

Standingwater pushes through the padded door and exits the pub.
Standingwater has left.

A moment of pause. It would seem there's been some kind of programming error in childhood - Tom is, for a heartbeat or two, quite obviously conflicted as to the appropriate response. Rival response to the stimuli just offered. Within the confines of his mouth, he touches his tongue to the roof, probably to check for adrenaline. Finally, scratching his scalp, Tom offers an easy going: "Nothing of note." A pause. "Uh, champ." He glances to Penny with some measure of disorientation... then adds, mildly, "You've got a funny sense of humor. Is this your idea of a joke?" No anger - only mild disorientation.

Devard has arrived.

Now it's just old. Game's over. She inclines her body foward on the booth's bench, cants her head toward the floor and then up a little. It's a revealing pose; decolletage twisted she is become an ingenue and Penny says "If I wasn't giving it up last time, what makes you think I was giving it now? Just move along with your little biker friends back to your little biker life and leave me alone, okay?" She leans back and leaves it for the men to hash out.

Devard read your description.

Alexander nods his head a couple of times, "True, true, we were awfully busy that night. Well.. You can always drop by my place again. Ride on my bike, roll around the hay." He tips a hat that doesn't exist, "Ma'am." Walking from the table, he heads towards the exit, inclined to leave it would seem.

Well, ok. Tom looks to be on steadier ground, now. Eyes flit from Penny's angry reply to Alexander's odd response. The whole thing is way too dramatic, too... over-the-top to really impinge too much on Tom' sense of personal reality. This is like TV. He can adjust to this - theatrics! An easy smile as he makes to occupy to space where Alexander once stood - then, thinking better of it, just shifts towards Penny, sits on the corner of the exit. As Alexander is walking away, Tom suggests, "We should probably get out of here. It's not exactly my uh..." Tom pauses, to look at a 50-something Irishman doing a jig
with a 17-somethinged girl with adorable freckles... to gaze at Alexander's departing back... at a drunken bartender leaning onto a counter. "My scene, I guess you'd say."

Did someoe say.. Theatrics?
Devard wanders into the bar, absently juggling a pair of balls in one hand. Yes, Juggling. You got a problem with that?
Using his other hand to open doors and the like, he then proceeds towards the bar, smiling confidently.

Penny shifts some. Little slice of absurdity does the soul good. But too much might make one just a little bit crazy. Penny watches what Tom watches and shrinks a little; some of the wind flagging out of that bravado, some queasiness creeping up on her - like she's just now seeing where she is for the first time. "I'm really sorry, springing that on you. It's just I think that guy's *stalking* me and I," she makes a helpless gesture; something only a woman can pull off with any degree of accurracy "he cornered me. Would you mind.." pausing, Penny takes the phone off the table and tucks it away somewhere "would you mind walking me to my car?"

Alexander pushes through the padded door and exits the pub.
Alexander has left.

Hot-dog! Traumatized girls make great dates, you bet. So why isn't Tom exactly leaping for joy at this golden opportunity? Go figure, some guys get all the breaks and never appreciate it. Tom wearily rises to his feet, offering a sad little smile. "Uh, sure. Sure, I'll walk you out to your car." A pause. "You alright?"
It should be noted that as/if/when Penny heads for the door, Tom follows. Even walks alongside.
You stand and leave the shadowy corner booth.

Jane pages: Hello? I'm just answering this phone....

"WHO THE FUCK IS THIS?"

If you held the phone away from your ear, the shout could be heard by lots of other people. Provided there are lots of other people around.

Jane pages: "Ow? This is me. Who is _this_?"

"GIVE THE PHONE TO STEVE."

It's clear the woman on the other end of the line doesn't deal with 'Me.'

Jane pages: I'm sorry. I don't know anyone called 'Steve'. And would you mind lowering your voice? Giving me a headache is really just going to get me pissed.

"GIVE THE PHONE TO ITS OWNER."

It's also clear that the woman on the other end of the line doesn't give a shit about you.

Jane pages: Sure.... let me just shove it back in his pocket, okay?

From afar, Jane says, as though to someone with her. ""Wouldn't know. All she wants to do is yell at me like she's fuckin' nuts."

The phone makes noises. Like someone pressing buttons repeatedly but in a pattern. Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.

Jane pages: "Could do, but she's not talkin' to me." She pauses, "Jealous girlfriend?"

The button pressing continues. It's very repetative and very annoying.

Pobble pages: Yello?
From afar, Pobble repeats louder, "Helloooo?
"Steve."

It's Penny. She sounds *pissed.* Y'know - the subtle way all girls get. She nice. Toofuckingnice.

"Penny. God would like to express to you his extreme displeasure. He states that while he still loves you, he is currently very much not liking you."

Pobble adds almost as an afterthought. "I on the other hand, have forgiven you for being a copper and trying to kill me."

"God has a great ass. God can also eat me."

A pause.

"Who answered your phone? What if she'd pressed the star key? Don't give the stupid phone away. Hiro said. ... and that wasn't me. It was some guy. Where are you? I saw all the shit in the bathroom and got .." Penny would never say it outright but yeah, she worries.

"God currently has no ass, and is unable to do any eatings. I don't know who answered the phone. I diddn't want to move. I'm lying down on the grass. I realize you may be jealous, but since you're admitting to bringing a gentleman policeman home I don't feel so bad anymore. Something major has happened. Very very important."

There's a clinking sound. Background noises "Hang on," Penny moving through a crowd then it's quiet again.

"Okay. I can hear again and I didn't try to kill you. Let's just be clear on that. YOU overdid it again. And that fucking monkey was doing nothing to help you either."

Riled, she brings herself down a few pegs. "So what happened."

"The LSD contained a compound I'm developing, the copious quantities injested with a straw managed to form a cellular divinity matrix within me noggin. While you were trying to kill me, I must've started to mutter something close to a prayer. Either way. God has entered me. Quite literally. He's trapped in my head. For reals."

There's a very long silence.

"You know there's no such thing. ..which god is it?"

and

"You're so fulla shit."

and

"I wasn't trying to kill you. You Were Hemmoraging."

Pobble sounds entirely serious. "Yahwe. Jehova. Le lord ala hosts. He's rather miffed to say the least. He blames you. I blamed you too, but like I said. Your forgiven. You'd expect him to forgive too but he's a cunt really. I think he's regressed to his OT days. I've seen behind the facade. I'm not bugfucked, it's truth. Scouts honour."

"Pobs," and suddenly it's Intervention Time Penny, complete with this-side-of-warning creeping into her voice "I want you to listen to me. Very Fucking Carefully. Whatever you dropped last night might've left you cracked open, I'll give you that, but no god anybody writes about would think your head's a great place to set up shop. Okay? Pobble?"
From afar, Pobble sighs, "It wasn't out of choice. Cellular Divinity Matrix. Got it all figured me. See, this skeptisism in your tone isn't going down too well. God is getting angry, which is giving me a headache. I'm going to go now, I shall be home shortly and maybe you'll be more rational by then. Goodbye." and he hangs up.
Ring ring

*click* "Keene here."

"Hi." Flat and cranky; sounds like a busy kitchen behind the voice "Pobble thinks he's god."

Keene sounds moderately bored. "Again? I thought he really liked thinking he was a fish."

"It's his fault the bathroom's a mess." There's a big pause, more noise. Sounds like she's in the back of a bar. "I meant to tell you about it this morning but I wasn't up and then we missed eachother. Anyway. That's drugs in the sink and he was on the floor when I got home and Dave was being useless under the bed, said he was dying. So."

The phone is muffled for a minute, a waitress in the background taking Penny's order. Bourbon. One of those nights.

"So he's gone when I get up and I went looking then some cunt answers his phone and he tells me god's living in his head."

His voice is carefully neutral. "Good for him. Maybe the Quiet will do him some good. That, and me cleaning the bathroom out before somebody brushed their teeth with LSD."

"Y'think? I guess," uneasy, overtly uncomfortable with anyone being that unavailable "He has to sign the lease papers. Thing's in his name." Distracted. Waitress with drinks. "Hey how'd that meeting go?"

"It was miserable, as I expected. I left a summary of my notes on the desk. I predict they get crushed sometime in the next six months. Our objective is to be out of range when it happens."

"Could do with some target practice," taking on Pobble's thick accent she does a good impersonation "What about that Aaron guy. Heard he's a knob. Bet on him switchin'it up again?"

A grunt. "I'm willing to bet he never switched in the first place. These people are /easily/ fooled."

Glasses clinking, she snorts and snifs "Yo, they're a mess. 'Cept for a few. Never met'im but his missives are funny as fuck. I miss yours; when're you gonna write for us again... 'member those leaftlets at the Mall of America? At the BestBuy? Those were *the best*" pausing "or maybe it's a waste. Hyperion's cornered the market on that kinda propaganda. Oh um.." leading into someone, she trails off.

"I'm going to wait to see how Hyperion handles the latest batch of stupidity that happens before I act."

Quietly she adds "There's some other stuff in the bathroom."

"I've heard. I ain't touching it."

"Good. I'll be drinking if you need me."

>> Saturday afternoon, May 3 2003. Keene goes to a Tradition council meeting, since he's one of the few people sober enough to do it. Hilarity ensues.

Novus Valnastium -- Council Chamber

This room is mostly empty, even more vast in some ways than the hall outside. Only three things mar its granite perfection; an immense marble table at the head of the room with nine chairs, each marked with a single Sphere glyph, an intricately inscribed Certamen circle in the center of the room, and perhaps forty seats at the back of the room, for observers and audience. A single door to the left glows a soft gold.

The great marble table seems designed with the center chair in mind. Polished and pristine, the table stands as if it had stood here for an eternity, its circle unbroken save the path which leads from between the Seat of Entropy and the Seat of Prime to the new Seat, it's unknown symbol shining a warm golden hue.

<< +views and places here >>

Contents:
Cally
Marcus
Alex
Kaze
Taliesin
Rhiamon
Paksenarrion
Aaron
Jonah
Obvious exits:
Left Door Out

Kaze nods in turn and rises, "I am Shinketsu Kaze bani Akashic Brotherhood, leader of the Dharma's Tear Cabal." he says and takes his seat once more.

Jonah says, to Keene, "Just in time, Mr. Keene. Please, take a seat in the Audience."

Keene steps in from the realm. He politely inclines his head to Jonah as he passes through the doors, then moves to an inconspicuous seat near the back of the audience section.

Cally looks over to see who's in the Spirit seat..

Leaning back on the rear legs of his chair, his feet on the back of the chair in front of him, Alex could be asleep for all anyone could know. But then again, this is the same attention that he has given all of the meetings so far and rarely seems to miss anything.

Cally looks out and around the table.. "I'm Cally Grant Bani Electrodyne Diva, head of Team Ether.

Marcus holds up his hand, "Andrew Marcus Yarr, Cult of Ecstacy, sole member of Razor's Edge."

Jonah is studiously taking notes as each name is called out. His pen returns to the inkwell multiple times, indicating that his script is large and ornate; some would say inefficient. He looks up to the Audience, awaiting their call.

Rhiamon says, "Rhiamon Jones House Ex Miscellanea of the Orer of Hermes.Member of the Turris Scientiae"

Keene, after putting his legal pad down on a chair next to him, gets up and makes his usual presentation. "I am Steven Keene of House Ex Miscellanea, of the Order of Hermes. I am the head of the Invisible College." After that, he sits back down, picks up his legal pad, and starts taking notes.

Paksenarrion coughs and speaks up, "Paksenarrion Johanson, I am of the Celestial Chorus.. Independent."

"Alex Hess, of the Virtual Adept," Alex calls out casually,"Member of After-Math."

Jonah finishes writing down the names, then lowers his pen. A glance is cast upon each individual, then to the group as a whole. "Very well. We shall begins this meeting. The first item on the agenda is the formation of a central government for the new Chantry."

Cally nods listening..

Keene takes meticulous notes.

Jonah continues, "The new Chantry shall be divided into two separate governmental bodies. Each shall act as a check and balance to the other. The bodies shall be as follows: The Primary Governing Council shall consist of a voted member from each Cabal, plus one member voted in by the independents. Each representative shall have an equal vote, save for one. Every representative will serve as Moderator for a term of one month or four meetings, which ever one comes first. The Moderator will then pass off to the next representative according to a schedule which shall be drawn up at a later time. The Moderator will serve as a tie-breaker, in that his vote shall carry the weight of two for purposes of determining the result of a tie only."

Kaze listens attentively with his hands folded before him demonstrating that oh so typical detached Akashic serenity.

Alex ... doesn't do much of anything. Reacting to the purpose (or dictated) governmental organization in neither word or action.

Jonah says, "The Governmental Council's primary duties will be to draw up, enact, and sustain a Council Charter. They will be responsible for determining and declaring the laws of the Council and seeing that they stay fair and coherant."

Cally raises a hand requesting to be recognized..

Jonah glances down at his notes momentarily, before continuing again. "The Security Council shall consist of a Council of Nine. Each Tradition in the city shall have a representative present, and it may not be the same representative as from the Governmental Council, save in very exceptional cases. It, too, will possess a Moderator with the same powers as in the Governmental Council, with its own unique schedule." He notes Cally's hand, but does not call on her yet. Instead, he finishes his statement. "The Security Council shall be exactly what it sounds like: It's responsibility will be the security and maintenance of both the Chantry and the Realm, as well as the enforcement of the Governmental Council's laws. They shall be tasked to develop a security policy pursuant to the laws generated by the Governmental Council." Now, he guestures to Cally. "Yes, Miss Grant?"

Cally looks to Jonah. "It sounds as if you're suggesting the primary governing council will act as the Legislative and Executive branch of our Government, with the Security council acting Judiciary? similar to the US Government?

Jonah chuckles quietly, "I was attempting to avoid comparison to other governments, Miss Grant. But yes, I suppose that comparison could apply."

Cally ahs and jots that down.. "thank you.

Jonah looks back to his notes, nods, and picks up. "Each Council, as I said, shall act as a check and balance for the other. Policies are not required to pass both Concils to be effectual; however, with a signifigant majority vote in the opposite Council, a policy may be vetoed. A signifigant majority is equal to two-thirds its total members. This applies only to policies which are reviewed within thirty days of their ratification, and not to existing policies. Existing policies may be appealed at any time, pending review and signifigant majority vote by both Councils."

Hana has arrived.

Alex raises his hand.

Jonah looks over to Alex, "Go ahead, Mr. Hess."

Hana comes through the door, immediately moving to a place from which she can view the proceedings.

Jonah passes a nod to Hana, then seems to note down her presence in the log.
Lowering his hand, Alex doesn't bother to rise. "From your description, it sounds like all the members of either council will have to be present to be able to actually get anything done...."

Keene continues to take detailed notes on the proceedings onto his legal pad.

Jonah shakes his head, "No. It will be possible to hold a meeting, but only if that signifigant majority is met. As long as at least two-thirds of the members are present, meetings shall be held. In cases of less than two-thirds yet not less than half, a Council Moderator may hold a meeting and cast a vote, then subsequently send missing Council members a declaration of the vote, explaining the topic and allowing them to cast their vote directly to the Moderator and one other, with the results declared at the next meeting."

No reaction is given to the response to his question. It might even be believed that Alex didn't actually have any interest himself, just thinking that it was something that should be cleared up.

Jonah takes a few fleeting notes, only to look up again. "This issue shall be more formally declared and posted for all to see. Voting for Cabal and the Independent Representatives of the Governmental Council and for the members of the Security Council, where it is appropriate, shall commence soon. Any more questions or comments?"

Taliesin has arrived.
Jesyca has arrived.

Jonah begins shuffling through his papers, "If there are none, then I shall continue with the meeting. The next topic on the agenda is the movement of the entryway to this Realm, as well as the potential for the relocation of the Node."

Jesyca tries to slip into the meeting without being noticed, but she's panting a bit from her quick dash across the realm to be here. She begins to walk quietly over to her usual spot, and kneels down there.

A faint smile comes to Alex's face at the mention of moving the node.

Jonah glances over to Jesyca as she enters. He grants her a nod, confirming her presence, then seems to record it in his log.

Keene is sitting in the back of the audience section, taking detailed notes on the proceedings on a legal pad.

Paksenarrion leans against the wall to the side, nodding a greeting to Jesyca as she enters.

Jonah settles his papers before him. "The portal to this Realm is not static. However, it does seem to be somewhat tied to the Shallowing created by the Node below Allan Gardens. The portal should be able to be moved, if we can either tie it to a new Shallowing or if we could possibly relocate the Node. Doing so is very, very difficult and would require more power than any one of us may possess. However, I do believe that, with the aid of the Traditions Council, we might be able to handle this task."

Jesyca flinches a bit when she notices Keene and lowers her head quietly.

Keene shows no particular reaction to Jesyca. He has no doubt noticed her arrival, but appears to be more focused on taking notes at the moment.

Paksenarrion tilts her head and glances at Jesyca curiously..

Alex remains seated in his chair. Leaning back on the rear legs of the chair, with his feet propped up on the back of the chair in front of him. His shade-covered eyes seem to be focused on his feet, but who knows what he is really looking at.

Rhiamon sits quietly listening.

Chase has arrived.

Hana leans bordely against a wall; looking bored only through her appearance of inattention.

Jonah says, "However, such a thing as relocating a Node will require much work and much time. It may even have a noticeable effect to the world around it. As such, it may not be a valid idea. A study should be performed to measure the impact of relocating the Node. We may, instead, need to see about opening a new one, or strengthing one that I believe already exists on the new Chantry grounds."

"How about we steal the one at the vacant lot,"Alex suggests with a small shrug.

Jonah frowns, "Again, relocating a Node may have drastic effects on the environment around it. Hence why I suggest a study."

"What kind of studies?..." Alex asks.

Hiro enters the Council Chambers from the Main Hall outside.
Hiro has arrived.

Jonah's frown becomes sharper. "Perhaps you should allow me to speak, Mr. Hess. You are talking out of turn. If you wish to speak, you know the procedure." He sighs, then clears his throat. "Clearly, Mr. Hess, you are not aware of the scientific method. Use it to determine the environmental effects of relocating a Node."

Keene is seated near the rear of the audience section, writing detailed notes on a legal pad. He's gone through a few pages by now.

At some point, Hiro is there shadowing the doorway: record bag over a shoulder -- bulging, no doubt, with assorted and sundry substances which are in no way records -- and hands balled up in his labcoat's pockets. A cigarette hangs from the corner of his mouth, trailing greyish smoke.

Jonah takes notes of the new arrivals as they enter. He grants them a nod to confirm that he has noted them, then goes back to the meeting at hand. "I will need people who are knowledgeable in the material Spheres, as well as the Sphere of Prime, to work together on this study. We will need viable evidence supporting the lack of environmental damage before we relocate a Node of any size."

Paksenarrion raises her hand

Alyx slips in quietly behind those who've also come a bit late, walking silently across to the Seat of Entropy and settling into it. Gloved hands settle on the tabletop and she listens to the speakers, trying to get a feel for what's being said.

Jesyca lifts up her hand slowly, and partially as words sink in and find their way of being processed in her mind. She is in her usual kneeling position.

Jonah guestures first to Pakzenarrion. "Yes, Miss Johanson?"

Paksenarrion coughs and stands up from leaning against the wall, speaking clearly, "I am well and equally versed in those spheres.." Pointing to the Spirit Chair she continues "As well as that sphere. I would be the first to offer my help with that."

Jonah nods to Paksenarrion, noting this down in his book. He glances about. "Anyone else?"

Raising her hand slightly, Alyx sits back and waits for her turn.

Cally raises her hand as well.

Keene continues to take dutiful notes on the proceedings.

Sighting Keene and Penny at the rear of the council chamber, Hiro slides down into a folding chair nearby; settling his record bag across his lap.

Jonah looks to Alyx, smiling. "Miss Davian."

Alex drops his feet to the floor and stands. Gather his sling bag and helmet from the chair next to him, he turns and heads for the door.

"If, in 'material spheres' you mean the three pattern spheres, I offer my small skill in Forces." Alyx volunteers. "Though my understanding of Prime is somewhat limited."

Alex has left.

Jonah nods to Alyx, also noting it down in his books. "Very well. Miss Grant."

Cally answers "I'm not as well ranked as Paksen is but I'm willing to help as well. Which leads a question. How will we be able to work together on this when our Methods differ?

Jonah nods, "That is a valid question. We will not be doing this in a ritual style, for it is more observation and study. In fact, magickal arts themselves may rarely come into play. This will be a /study,/ not an /application./"

Kaze raises a hand slightly.

Jonah says, "Yes, Shinketsu-san."

Kaze folds his hands before him once more, "I would offer my experience with the spheres known generally as Forces and Prime, as well as my Kohai's skills with Matter for this endeavor."

Jonah notes this down. "Very well. Are there any others?"

Keene continues taking notes peaceably.

Cally jots down notes on her end as well

Jonah nods. "If there are no others, then I would like to make one quick annoucement before I wrap up." He stands, organizing his notes. "Shinketsu Kaze-san and Dharma's Tear is bringing in a new member, an acolyte by the name of Hojo Ryoshi. Also, Mr. Aaron Michaels is bringing in an acolyte of his own, by the name of Catherine McGee. I have spoken to both and determined them acceptable for entrance to the Realm. Please give them the respect you would give to any other of our own." He looks about to everyone else. "Is there anything else that anyone wishes to enter into the meeting?"

Cally raises her hand.

Jonah says, "Yes, Miss Grant."

Cally stands up.. "I wish to enter in the meeting about my plan to jam the Hyperion commercials and upload several of ours in their stead..

Marcus frowns a bit, looking over to Cally. First time he's been active this entire meeting, it seems. He doesn't say anything, though, just listens.

Jonah nods and returns to his seat, pulling a fresh piece of paper from his briefcase. "Very well. Please, discuss your plan before those present."

Keene glances to Cally when she speaks again, then starts a new page to write on.

Cally nods and looks out.. "My esteemed Colleagues. I have discussed this plan with those in my Cabal, and a couple of others as well. As many of you know, the Technocracy has the upper hand because of how they can sway the populace. The Hyperion Commercials are ample proof of that. If we can do something to disrupt their message and add mistrust in their public image, I feel we may have a foot in the door to make our part of the Ascension War that much stronger. A suggestion of mine was to take the families shown in the previous two commercials and show them being forced out of their homes because Hyperion desired their locations for businesses. another clip would be of the Homeless shelter located quite near the vacant land also being bulldozed with a sign saying, coming soon Hyperion's new Executive Parking Lot. We can wrap up our commercial showing the families now mixed with the homeless freezing in alley's under buildings suggesting Hyperion has taken over the city. Now my idea can be improved on but that was the example I was hoping to Engineer. " she stops takes a sip of water then continues "However, I wonder now if the idea may be a little late. I've spoken to Aaron who pointed out I should speak to the Chantry on a whole to get their opinion, and to Abel, as any affront to Hyperion may cause them to pressure him. Abel did give his blessing, but a couple of my colleagues did not feel it appropriate. I now open this discussion if I may."

Jonah nods, "Very well. Consider this a forum. Does anyone have an opinion they would like to share on this matter?"

Paksenarrion shakes her head, quietly continuing to listen

Jesyca speaks very softly, and out of turn, "I like it." She then goes back to being a mute on the floor.

Marcus raises his hand, but doesn't wait to be called on, "As long as you don't want to put a park on that lot, I'm fine with it."

"If there are no other opinions to be voiced," Jonah says, noticing the silence on the matter, "I shall speak." His eyes fall upon Cally. "From what I understand of your plan, you wished to 'hijack' the Hyperion commercials and show your own version in their place. I believe that this would serve only to bring the wrath of the Technocracy down upon you and upon others. I believe it would be more fruitful for you to create your commercials as you see fit and then simply air them alongside the rest. This may cost some sum of money, however it is more efficient for you to show your objections to their project in a non-threatening manner. Allow their commercials to air, but air your own. Then you can let the masses decide."

Jonah lays his pen down, leaning forward against the table. "We are not terrorists, after all. Aggressive actions beget aggressive responses. And, also, you should be sure you know everything you can about your enemy before you strike; you should research Hyperion and know what it constitutes before you begin making claims against them that you cannot back up when your claims are presented against you."

Jonah says, "Are there any other comments on Miss Grants interests?"

Cally nods.. "I will discuss this with my Cabal, but I do ask this. Should my cabal and I decide to continue with our plan of hijacking the signal, Would there be repercussions from the Traditions? " she holds up a hand. "I am neither stating nor backing down, as I want my Cabal to have a discussion in this. I merely wish to know what sort of repercussions if any we may expect from our Allies."

Jonah responds, softly, "There will be no repercussions from the Council that I can guarantee, however I cannot guarantee that you will be awarded any support from it, either."

Hana pushes off the wall and slips out the door.
Hana steps back out to the main hall.
Hana has left.

Cally nods to that.. "I will promise this then. If my Cabal decides to do it, I will of course inform everyone, on the board days before we strike. this way if anyone wishes to help they can, and those who wish not to do it can prepare for any repercussions..
Cally is meaning Techno repercussions

Jonah says, "If there is nothing more on this subject, I will ask once more if there are any other subjects which anyone would like to bring to the meeting."

Alyx raises her hand after a moment's thought.

Jonah seems to wish to add something, looking back to Cally. "Miss Grant, just keep in mind that the Technocracy will likely respond to the Traditions as a whole, and not just to those responsible. Therefore, any harm that comes on anyone outside of your Cabal, should you choose to perform your actions in such a way that causes a response, will fall on your shoulders." He glances to Alyx. "Miss Davian."

"Since she's not here at the moment to make the point herself, I wish to offer up something on behalf of Aaron's student, Catherine," Alyx murmurs. "Though it shoulden't be a problem, I'd like to make it known that she is mute, conversing by means of either sign-language or the written word. Just a heads-up, to help everyone avoid embaressing either themselves or her by commenting on her quietness."

Jonah smiles, "Yes, Miss Davian is correct. Miss McGee is indeed mute. Therefore, keep that in mind if you speak with her. She is not allowed to be out of Mr. Michael's presence when in the Realm, though, so this should not be a problem." He passes his glance about. "Any other comments, questions, or agendas?"

Alyx sits back, glancing around at those here.

Cally shakes her head.. "Just one.. I also sent you a letter a while back about the possibility of setting up a school, where we can exchange skills and training as well as culture so we can learn more of each other.,.

Jonah responds to this, briefly, "As we all know, cross-training between Traditions has always been a sore-spot. It has been attempted on many occasions; unfortunately, for the most part, our ideas of magick are not compatible and thus restrict us from teaching each other the Arts. A school would be an interesting task, but for the purpose of learning about different cultures and perhaps beginning the process of tearing down the walls between ideas, but such is a task which would require many, many years to complete to its maximum effect, I fear."

Cally nods.. "I was thinking more along the lines of weapons training, and unarmed combat myself.. As well as information about the Traditions.
Cally says, "err individual Traditions.."

Lifting her hand again, Alyx glances thoughtfully between Cally and Jonah.
In response to Cally's comment, Jonah again says, "We are not terrorists. We should not have to fight with weapons combat, and instead with our wits and intelligence." Then, he guestures to Alyx, "Yes, Miss Davian."

"While we're on the subject of teaching and learning, I'm looking for a mentor who's capable of teaching someone of my paradigm. My knowledge of other Traditions is sketchy at best, so I woulden't know who to approach," Alyx voices, looking around again in a semi-hopeful manner. "Teaching in any Sphere I can learn would be appreciated."

Marcus looks across to Alyx, then furrows his brow. "You a Euthie? Talk to me after the meeting..."

Jonah stands again, stacking his papers before him. He looks over the collected group, then smiles. "I fear that this meeting has gone over its time. Therefore, we shall now adjourn the meeting. A formalized writeup of the Councils shall be presented within the week, and information regarding the Node Relocation Study shall also be posted, with a signup so that people who are interested in helping may help. The next meeting shall also be posted on the board, and shall fall soon, so keep your eyes out for it. Please, if there are any more questions or comments, do not hesitate to contact me after the meeting for clarification."

Cally nods to that and gathers up her papers

Alyx rises slowly from her seat, adjusting her gloves before heading over towards Marcus.

Jesyca stirs a bit from her position on the floor. Her head slowly rises, and a yawn comes out of her mouth.

>> Keene's brain shuts off for a while, then switches back on.

Marcus stays sprawled in the Seat of Time, relaxed. He smiles to Alyx as she approaches him, but doesn't move.

Hiro starts awake in his seat, rubbing at the side of his face.

Keene concludes his note-taking when the meeting ends, putting the pad away inside of his jacket.

Cally nods and stands walking to Jonah.. "why don't you come over for Dinner some time? I'd like to talk with you on a few things."

Jonah chuckles as he puts his things away. "I am unfortunately a very busy old man. I will try, but I cannot guarantee anything."

Alyx comes to stand behind the Seat of Time, arms clasped around the top of the backrest. "So," she addresses with a slight smile to the seat's occupants.

Hiro wakes up in stages, which seems to involve scratching his head and working his way down. By the time he's given the old wang chung a good long delousing, he totters to his feet. "It's friday," he informs Keene. Never mind it's nine in the morning. "Let's go get some jim beam."

Marcus looks up to Alyx, then chuckles. "So. Yeah, I've had some luck teaching Euthies here and there. It all depends on their style. At some points, we tap into the same mystical beliefs, so there is some leeway." He kicks up, out of the chair, and onto his feet. "Let's take a walk, see if I can't help you."

Jesyca looks over towards Hiro, and then Keene. She speaks softly, "Hopefully, this time you will not end up causing a disturbance at Overdrives Alley."

Cally nods and grins.. "just give me a call then.. "
Cally stands and leaves The Council Table.
Cally makes her way out..

Marcus stands and leaves The Council Table.

Hiro fixes Jesyca with an infinitely placid look. The kind of expression a hindu cow might posess. "Excuse me?" he inquires, with improbably good diction. He adjusts the strap of his record bag, unzipping the pouch. "What was that?" Yes; Hindu Cow. Perhaps a hint of pleasant expectance, as if he were trying to catch barely-missed words from a close friend and personal confidant.

Jesyca lifts up her shoulders a bit towards Hiro, and lets out a breath, "It is not one of the best places. A lot has happened there, and several members of the technocracy have come in there, and made it their personal hangout."

Alyx nods and follows Marcus, arms crossed comfortably over her chest as she slips out.

Marcus steps back out to the main hall.
Marcus has left.
Alyx steps back out to the main hall.
Alyx has left.

"And we wouldn't want to compromise your valuable ass-shaking job," drones Hiro, this time through teeth which are more gritted than fixed in a grin. That smile widened. It didn't work very well. "You ever try some cuntish bullshit like that 'gain, we c'n have our next bit'f dialogue in the certamen circle, you catch my drift."

Jonah looks up, between Hiro and Jesyca. "Enough. Hiro, your language is out of line." He looks to Keene. "Mr. Keene, I have heard some nasty rumors about the activities of the College. I suggest you keep your cabal under control."

Keene has sat there quietly and let Hiro talk for a while, not seeming perturbed by Jesyca at all. Keene, after all, is the consummate professional. At Hiro's last comment, though, he puts up his hand to signify silence from Hiro, then gets up when Jonah speaks to him. Jesyca, for now, doesn't require his direct ministrations. "Would you care to share what you have heard, Magister? I, as a rule, dislike rumors."

Jesyca lets out a breath slowly, and looks towards Hiro, "Yeah, the pity, the shame, the idea of there being consequences for actions. The ideas, and attitudes I have watched over the months be presented here, has made begin to question if I really am the right side of the fence. Walk in, cause harm, walk back out, and expect to never get any consequences of those actions."

Hiro goes abrubtly and pointedly silent, neither meeting Jonah's gaze nor fixing it upon Jesyca. His attention, instead, drifts off into an idle middle distance; he retracts his hand from his bag, zipping it quietly shut.

Jonah sighs softly, then shakes his head. "Mr. Keene, perhaps at another time. I would much rather not risk exposing someone who came to me in strict confidence."

"I see," says Keene. "I can entirely understand your reticence to speak publically about a private matter, Magister. Would you prefer it if I made an appointment, at your convenience, to discuss the matter?" He appears sincere in this; perhaps Keene is just a victim of circumstance.

A sharp sniff, and Hiro ambles off towards the exit.

Jonah thinks, momentarily. He nods. "That may be appropriate. Please contact me on Monday, and we shall attempt to schedule an appointment."

Keene inclines his head respectfully. "As you wish it, Magister. Thank you for the opportunity."

Hiro steps back out to the main hall.
Hiro has left.

>> Jescya:

Before you is a young girl or woman. She is a delicate five foot four, with a small frame to her body. Her skin is of a pale pallor, needs to be in the sun more often, but it is no different than the average typical neo-goth look. Her eyes are an emerald green, but show a touch of something, and they contrast with her raven black hair. Her hair is long enough to flow past her shoulders and turns up at the ends into a bit of a curl. Her face is a bit angular with a small nose, and delicate mouth with small pouty lips. Jesyca has a slender neck that meets her shoulders in a smooth flow. Her arms are slender as well, and her body is not over or under developed, but seems proportional, making her look pretty, but not beautiful and far from exotic.
She wears her long hair with most it pulled back from her face into a full ponytail. Along side her face are three distinct long ringlets of dark hair. Her face has a bit of make-up on it, a light red color painted upon her lips, and a dash of glitter upon her cheeks. Around her eyes she has on some black eyeliner. Clasped around her throat is a black velvet choker with a single black rose in its center. On a single petal is drop of painted blood.
Over her body is a long, once thick black cloak with a hood. The cloak flows over her body to the ground, dangling just a bit off of the ground exposing a bit of the shoes she wears and dingy gray socks. The cloak catches on the slight curves of her body but hardly enough to bring them to more attention.

Keene, having attended to that particular matter, then turns his attention to Jescya. "Hello," he directs to her. "I believe we have met before?" He puts out his hand to shake, perhaps in a peace-making gesture.

Jesyca gives a bow of her head towards Keene, and looks towards his hand. It takes her a moment but she does take his hand, "Yes, we have."

Jonah gathers his briefcase and his cane. "Good day, everyone."

Keene gives Jesyca a polite but firm handshake, then returns his hand to a neutral position at his side. "Good day, Magister," Keene directs to Jonah as he leaves. After a respectable amount of time, he returns his attention to Jesyca.

"I apologize for the scene that Dr. Alder and Mr. Stice caused at your bar," Keene says. "They were punished for their actions and have been put on notice to behave more responsibly in public. Whatever they did, it was stupid, and not becoming of men of their skill and knowledge." A short pause. "No one was hurt, I hope?"

Jesyca lifts up her shoulders a bit, "Not physically, though Cassidy seems to have decided to continue to stay away from things. I am not sure if that has to do with the various events, or what took place. It is over with, and in the past."

"Of course," says Keene, smiling professionally. "But I felt it was only proper that a suitable apology was given, in a more suitable forum than the front steps of the bar." He adjusts his lapels. "However, if I may offer you a free consultation? In most situations, police officers will treat someone wearing a suit automatically more credible than someone wearing, say, a Winger t-shirt. It is also common to the psychology of individuals who become police officers to be hostile to individuals who question their authority directly." He gestures with his left hand. "Thus, I found it extremely easy to influence the situation in my favor. I, however, meant you no harm; Technocrats in similar situations may have used the power differential created to much more harmful effect."

Jesyca shakes her head a bit, and lets it tilt off to the side slightly, "Last I saw, the real police didn't show up when one of them fried a kid standing right next to me. Guys in black suits walked in, grabbed the body, and walked out. The other man stood up and slipped away. Events like that, and others have made more than edgy when people start causing serious commotions in there. It is not my job that I am wishing to protect, is the owner."

Keene seems legitimately puzzled at that. "And no suspicion of any kind was raised from that incident at all?"

Jesyca shrugs her shoulders a bit, "Technocrats covering up for technocrats. I think those that arrived on the scene deemed it that he took too hard of a hit from the fight he was in. Which might have been believable if you could ignore the smell of cooked human meat, and the way the body reacted."

Jonah steps back out to the main hall.
Jonah has left.

"That's amazing," says Keene. "I had no idea the Technocracy was this strong in Toronto."

Jesyca chews on her bottom lip a moment, "I do not know how strong they are, just that a lot of things have happened, and that they seem to be just about everywhere. Before I awakened, I knew several of them. I still do, I'm just trying to hide that I have awakened now."

Keene considers this for a moment or two before answering. "I operate under the assumption that the Technocracy learns everything soon enough, but I happen to be below their interest."

Jesyca gives a slight nod of her head, "I do not know where I lie on their interests, and I never have the intention of finding out."

"A rational goal," Keene says. "You may find it in your best interest to invest in some camoflage, then."

Jesyca cracks a slight smile, "And that is impossible, for me. I'm already out there too much, and speaking of already being out there too much. I have an art showing I am late for."

Keene's expression brightens. "Of course. Have a good evening."

Jesyca gives a bow of her head and begins to head off quickly out of the chambers.

>> Keene departs.

Vulture leaves an apartment.
Vulture has arrived.
Vulture read your description.

//.etro: It is 05:06 am, early morning, on Monday the 08. day of December, 2008.

After having navigated the maze that is the Holiday Inn, the birdman has ended up in the lobby. He turns around a couple of times, just to make sure he's in the right place, and then heads slowly towards the counter. Vulture digs the keys out of his pocket as he goes - definitely through with nights in this place. Too expensive... someone should tell him it isn't a lodging house, but a hotel. Of course the prices are going to be higher.

Only the fitness freaks and partykids are up at this hour. Figure Penny fits into the latter group, trudging through the lobby toward the hallway. Her coat slung over one shoulder on two fingers, she's smoking something filtered. The greasy twenty-something behind the desk gives her a look, unwelcome but he can't do anything about a paying guest. Penny yawns in a big way, arms stretched out and everything, ashes where a vaccuum's just been run and trolls toward the continental breakfast alcove.

Having had a rather restless night's sleep, or day's sleep, or whatever, when Vulture arrives at the counter he's not exactly in a pleasent mood. Across the counter with one hand he grabs said desk clerk by the tie and hauls him over the divide between them... partway. He holds the key up in front of the young man's eyes, "Look here," Comes the lazy sound of the punk's voice, as he glances at the name time, "Richard... Dick... I fuck'n paid good money f'this fuck'n room, an all I can fuck'n hear's th'fuck'n people on either side o' me fuck'n an screamin'." Without ceremony he shoves the key into the breast pocket of the attendents shirt and shoves him back, pointing a finger just afterwards, "Y'keep th'fuck'n money... buy y'self a real hotel... Dick."

Cornering the cigarette on the left side of her mouth, she peruses the buffet with twitchy, disjointed movements. A couple in running gear cough politely to indicate to Penny that her smoke is bothering them. In lieu of a verbal answer, she drags and keeps puffing and grabs the basket of coffee stirrers&creamers, tucks it under her arm and piles up boxes of mini-cereals - the kind all kids like - and some other things; croissants, styrofoam cups, spoons and the metal pitcher of milk. The same couple clear their throats to indicate they, too, have some right to the milk Penny's absconding with and would like some conisderation.

But nobody's paying attention to them. The commotion at the front desk is more entertaining to the help than her. The old security guard is even thinking about getting off his ass. It's his job of course. "Dicky, y'okay Dicky?"

The kids squeaks "Fine, fine. Just," shaking a little "punching in a credit is all." Richard, like his nametag says, may be bitter and might not like Penny much but he's accommodating. "Sir, I've cancelled out all ch-ch-charges."

And in the meantime... Penny's looped the juice pitcher up in her other hand while no one's looking. Casually she starts walking toward the main hallway again.

In accordance with Intimidation law Fourty two point four, section three alpha, the punk at the counter turns to have a look at the security guard. He slides his shades down on his nose so that his eyes slip up overtop of them... living and dead. Its just a stare, nothing more, but it does allow him to
catch sight of the klepto and her stash of breakfast goods. For a moment, Vulture's attention is brought back around to the front desk attendent like a pair of Naval battle cannons, "Are y'try'n t'start shit, Dicky?" The voice goes quiet, and chill, "Y'try'n t'say that I can't fuck'n afford t'stay here? Did I fuck'n ask f'my goddamn money back, or f'charges t'be dropped?" He points back to the now, mostly empty, Continental breakfast trolley, "I woulda liked some fuck'n breakfast... but 'pparently y'don' keep th'goddamn thing stocked up like't should be... do you?"

The cart and table's a shambles; it's former glory now stockpiled in Penny's sticky fingers; but this is the right of all guests at the Holiday Inn - she can't help it if the attendants are slow; and they are (this being Canada) but they do catch on quickly and move far and away into the nether region of the pantry for to restock. The guard goes back to being docile and Richard remains his pleasant self behind the counter. Newly arriving guests can't tell he's cowering but we know better, don't we.

Penny's wise to the mohawk's complaint, though and while everyone else is extremely reluctant to approach the guy, she chucks him a few boxes with Tony le Tigre on them "Oi, heads" teething her smoke, she calls out from the corner of her mouth. Little on the mumbled side.
Not the nimblest guy in the world, the punk turns to catch one box with his chest and the other with a hand. Hey, one out of two ain't bad. As he stoops to pick the other one up he lets a slashing grin cut across his lips, "Y'gonna throw th'milk now?" Standing up, he shoots Richard another Neck-breaking glance and then steps away from the desk to let the other check ins stride up to the counter. Box to his lips he tears the top off with all too perfect teeth - Tony the Tiger is about to end up chewed on and spat out. He has this way of eyeballing anyone who gets a little too close. Canadian, eh? Gotta have that good personal space. "R'should I wait f'th'slow motherfuckers here t'brin' somethin' that ain't lukewarm an pissed in?"

Penny has this kind of relieved expression about the eyebrows, unwrinkling slowly into a smirk. Like she's glad that glance is headed in the direction of the counter and not her. Like everything, it seems, would be alright for what's left of the morning. Right then. Readjusting her grip on things, Penny uh-uhs and explains "Think you scared'em, guy. Wouldn't bet on them showing up again til you're gone or," pausing, she tugs out the burned-to-the-foam bit from her mouth and stamps it out into the carpet "whatever. Got bowls and stuff back at the room. Y'want?" Half-lifting the pitcher in your direction, half toward the hall - whatever the reason she's not giving up the pitcher(s) or the rest of her loot. Probably that beady-eyed tourist-kid over there looking to score a tossed box puts her off toward her room. Like the walking-wounded, her posture stoops and she shuffles down the hall.
No point in hanging around when food has been offered. Of course, its the beeline into that beady eyed kid that does it... he's blind in one eye, and looking back at the counter puts the tourist into that blind spot instances before the punk drives an elbow into the boy's temple. Whoops. Looks like we
have a clean up in aisle four. Vulture spits the top of the box at the downed kid before he strides off after Penny. A couple of strong steps helps him catch up to the overloaded woman and her dragon horde of breakfast stuffs. Munching loudly on Tony's flakes the birdman swallows before offering a,
"Y'practicin' f'bein' a bag lady? I once saw this fuck'n chick, she had like, a fuck'n loada shit... but then, she had'a fuck'n cart, an y'don'..." A shrug of one shoulder, and more profanity, "Y'gotta name, Cereal killah?"

BANG bang bang taptaptaptap tap.. tap. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Sounds like metal
on the crapwood of the door. Thunk. "Guuuuuys, wake up" mumbled into the door.
Thunk thunk. Thunk thunk.

Already at her door, Penny kicks at the door. BANG bang bang taptaptaptap tap.. tap. Thunk. The metal pitcher knocks into the door. Thunk. "Guuuuuys, wake up" mumbled into the door. Thunk thunk. Then her head, thunk thunk. She pleads quietly through the peephole "Guys I can't get my keeeeey.. Pooobs c'mon.."

She just might not've heard your question, taken to whining at a closed door. Best to bet Penny needs to be asked twice while she's distracted "HellooOoo.." kicks at the door again.

Time for a little divine intervention. Vulture steps up to the side of the door and blasts a couple of hammer blows into the firedoor. A couple of good steel toed kicks as well, "OPEN UP!" Is the less than melodic bellow, "WE KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE! THIS IS THE POLICE!" Oh, sure, then he leans against the side of the doorframe, folding his arms across his chest. One ear cocked to listen
for movement inside the room. His lips, of course, are split into a wicked grin of mischeivous malice, "So... y'gotta fuck'n name, or what?" There's that question asked again - cause he can.

There's some scrabbling from inside. Sounds like plates being knocked about,
something goes smash. Then silence.

Knock knock. Comes the reply.

There is the sound of a door slamming open, and then closed.

Penny stands aside with all her shit and lets you stay there in front of the door. Casually she leans on the wall with a no-good-can-come-from-this look toward the ceiling. "'Course I do," gravel for a voice, her eyes rolling that way - toward you, the noise and the door. "Uch. It's up," Penny observes with some melodrama, some ill-will and takes a step to the left. Saving introductions for later, she nods that way across the hall, "Might wanna" indicating you should move before the door opens.

And so the carrion bird perches himself a good foot from the door. His hands drop away from his arms and hang at his sides, Vulture's never been known - yet - to be caught with his pants down around his ankles. He half glances at the door and then looks back across it to the less than verbose woman, "S'good t'have a name..." He comments singularily, before stuffing a few more frosted flakes in his mouth... chewing noisily. He even starts to tap out a tune on the molding with the heel of one boot, stuffing the unopened box into one of his deep pockets. This should prove interesting.

//.etro: Pobble rolls "chemistry+intelligence" privately to Penny at diff 4.
For a total of 6 success(es) including 3 ten(s).
//.etro: Penny rolls "Dexterity + Dodge" privately to Pobble at diff 6.
For a total of 4 success(es) including 2 ten(s).

The door whips open, and a beaker flies out. There seems to be some kind of
contraption stickytaped to it. Maybe another container within. As this
happens, there's the smell of sweet flowers and a light mist which errupts
into flames.

Amidst the conflagration of scent, the beaker smashes. So does its counterpart.

Oh. My. God.
Mister Smelly Time. Acommpanied by a thick acrid yellow fog. Nice.

The door slams shut.
A small voice calls out, "There's no one home."
Another sound of the interior door slamming. And.. wait. It sounds like.. something trying to climb up the door.

Penny knew it was coming.
It's like she's psychic or something.

"Mother fucker," see - she's in the right place - to the LEFT of the door.
"Shouldna said you were the cops," asiding to you like it's good advice. Penny
kicks on the door "you open this door Dave or I swear to FUCK I'll skin you
myself."

BangBANGbangbang.

She coughs a little, shielding her nose and mouth in the pile of boxes and food. "It's just fucking me. ME, PENS. God. Just open the door, I swear to god there's no fucking cops."

Light dissapears through the peep hole. There is a sigh, something scrapes the door and the lock clicks shortly followed by the sound of something small hitting the floor.

"Penny you fucking brass hat."

Laughing. Oh yeah, the punk is busting a gut. He's dropped Tony on the floor, he has one hand over his mouth and nose, and he's laughing so hard he could puke at any moment. Leaning back against the wall Vulture looks like he hasn't laughed quite so hard in a long time. A long, long, time. One hand waves, trying to sweep away the vile smelling smoke. A pause in his uproar, just long enough to say something along the lines of, "Fuck'n paranoia... I love't..." Hard to discern, it's the hand that muffles it. Hell, he could've said, "Monosodium Glutamate." And it would have sounded vaguely familiar.

Gripping the handle from the farside, Penny shoves the door open with her free-ish hand and lets it swing wide. "Least I get some, hairball." Bit on the venomous side this morning, Penny practically spits that. "Practical joker," an apology of sorts and waits, waving you in first "Mi casa.." She's not particularly amused; probably had too rough a night for nonsense like this.

The door is stopped by something. No one to be seen inside. Just a mess. The thick acrid stench drifts within as the door remains open.

Pobble is apparently in the bathroom. With the door open, David is nowhere to be seen.
Vulture ahs, and nods.

Keene has connected.
Keene has disconnected.

Penny looks left then right and holds the door open for Vulture, shoving the door open wide as she can. "Yeah," a few boxes finally tumbling out to the floor and whatever else crowds it "COMPANY," she calls out though it seems there's no waking the dead in these parts. Sounds from the bathroom mean there's at least one person over there; noises from the floor beyond the second bed means there's at least another body that side. Only clear spaces seem to be in between beds and two small spaces between the closet and desk areas. "Breakfast," she nudges a sleeping bag on the other side of the bed. When it doesn't move, she moves on to the lump on the first bed "Comps you livin'? Eh.. " Setting up stuff on the minifridge, Penny grabs a bowl for you, one for her and one for whoever's in the bathroom. "Help yourself..." looking for a name.

From the bathroom, there is a faint gurgling noise and then the noise of someone sucking through a straw.

From under the bed, a small voice says, "Oh holy christ." with a tone of sheer terror.

Hammering the door shut behind himself, "Vulture." Looks over at Penny briefly before he surveys the room. A nicely sinister smirk is on his lips, and he tugs the box of cereal out of his pocket to pop the top off of it. Despite his lack of a second functioning eye he seems to be able to take in everything pretty well. Good spacial awareness, "Nice fuck'n pad y'got here..." He comments as he carefully steps his way over to the minifridge.

Penny crosses paths with you, moving toward the bathroom, stepping over a pile of shoes here, clothes there. Cables piled up next to the door; lots of brown packing boxes still taped up and labeled with smiley faces, headphones and/or arty-glyphs. "I hate this place, thank god it's just temporary.." bang bang on the bathroom door "oi, needa skin up" looking back over the bodies, taking a stab at who might be in there "wanna sha, Pobs. Fuckin'monkeybrains gave us the stink. Brought breakfast." Knock, knock.

"I don't shag coppers," comes the call, its a world weary and vacant voice. The voice of a soon to be coma victim.

There's a big gulping sound, and then the noise of someone apparently falling to the floor. Glass tinkles. Someone vomits rather violently. "They're... comming. Through.. my nose...
cameras in my.. nose. You fuckers won't take me."

"Dave.." The voice gets weaker and weaker. "Kill.. Kill Penny the copper.." Dave apparently wants to stay under the bed. Whimpering.
Vulture taps his tongue stud against his teeth for a moment or two as he spills the contents of the Frosted Flakes box into a bowl, keeping his gaze anywhere but where it should be. Murmuring to himself, "This is what'ts like... what't's like when worlds collide... this is what't's like..." As his eyes pass by the bed, he tilts his head to the side, "Hey," He stops his singing for a moment to ask the most potent question --> "When did I fall inta th'TV? This's a Rob Zombie video, right?" Pulling the cereal box up to his face he points a finger at the fucking tiger on the box, "Y'come alive, Tony, an I'm'a take back my childhood, y'crack dealin' fuck'n feline quadraped..." Crunch. Squishing the box those eyes finally rest on Penny, "S'okay f'I grab some milk?"

Yeah yeah," distracted, she has her ear to the bathroom door. She tries the handle murmuring "Uch not again.. the fuck is peachy.." asking the handle, not the voice under the bed. Finding it unlocked, Penny shoves her way in saying "Yeah um, really sorry about all this," with half a backward glance, "..pranksters. Tough to live with y'know? Help yourself.." her good humor forced, checking to see if you're more into the milk than what's behind Door Number 2. Yes? Yes. Good. Penny gives a final shove and slams the door behind her. No peeking.

Inside is a chemical mess. Aparatus set up to drip something into the sink, with the faintly familiar smell of LSD. A straw floats in the pool, and next to the sink is Pobble. Looks like he's been sick through the nose and is sweating and shaking profusely.

Something under the bed whimpers some more. "He's falling away.. bye bye..... bye bye.."

It's true, Vulture is more interested in a healthy breakfast than whatever someone may be throwing up in the bathroom - or whatever. He pools milk into the bottom of his bowl, watching it slips and slide all over the flakes, "Drown, y'lil' bastards... drown..." Yup, cause it's mentally stable to talk to your cereal, "Y'd think that Lewis Carroll woulda come up with more've a concept than this.." Evidently the carrion bird still thinks he's in some sort of wacky land of make believe. Before he takes his first spoonful of his soggy flakes he pops a couple of pills into his mouth and swallows, "They know who you are," He sings to himself, "There know who you are..."

There's a lot going on behind the bathroom door. Since you're already in the right frame of mind to picture it, you've no trouble at all imagining Penny-Whipthin dragging a body across the short tiled distance or what kind of tinkling crash a glass makes when it's swiped off the counter. The dull echo of booted-feet in a tub. Sound of the shower being turned on and a lot of tinny, echoey conversation happening. In between there are solidly formed phrase "hospital again" and "not even a week" or "Keene'll shit a BRICK" or "fucking monkey." Take your pick, it's all Penny talking anyway.

Following the sounds of water are screams. Real agonizing screams, the sound of someone being terrifyingly mutilated by rabid creatures of death. Words grasp to make themselves understood through the pain-static noise but to no avail. It sounds truly horrendous.

Penny has managed to pick your ass up through some miracle of leverage and keeps talking to you despite your lack of response "I am NOT taking you to the hospital again." She hobbles with most of your weight on her into the bathtub, gets the water on ice cold at full blast "You think I need this shit? It's fucking freezing out there. You know what they'd do if we brought you back there? They'd look at me and Keene and say 'not even a week' and he's dosed hisself good'n STUPID again." It's a two-step thing and you're no help with all the screaming "Fucking delerious, Keene's gonna lose his shit is what, shit a brick aww.. c'mon, wake up." Ducking down, now your face is in the water "Up, up y'go. C'mon Steve-O it's just me and the lousy old shower."

From afar, Pobble flails about wildly, trying to move out of the water as if it were acid of the corrosive kind. His hands claw at his face, perhaps trying to protect it but not doing a great job. Red lines appear, and his cheek breaks open releasing a blood trickle into the flow of water.

Vulture pauses. His cheeks are puffed out with the monstrous spoonful he just stuffed in there. Eyes wide behind his shades. Evidently someone doesn't like taking showers very often. Slowly he commences chewing again and swallows. Curiousity killed the cat... it's a good thing the punk is more often seen as a bird. He steps over to the television and pokes it on, tuning in some godawful religious telemmercial. Watching it with kind of a half interest considering he isn't in the least bit religious, "C'mon, Jimmy... tell me I'm goin' t'hell.... then show us y'daughter's tits and tell us she's a whore." Well, at least he can keep himself entertained, glancing back over his shoulder at the bathroom door in caution.
The water makes the screams louder and Dr Steve thrashes about, smashing his arms against the side of the tub. Those'll be some nice bruises. His face bleeds more under the water, and a clawed hand desparately tries to pull at the wound. In between the screams the man coughs and splutters. "Fucking Police Brutality" he manages to cry.

Screams, splutters, coughs and choking noises are followed by a strangled call of "Fucking police brutality."

Someone is getting murdered.

Outside, someone else errupts into a coughing fit, and there is the sound of glass breaking underfoot. "Oh god, I'm going to hurl." can be heard.

From the bathroom, "UP, up.. c'mon" blurble, blurble and then during the commercial break come more screams. More thrashing and the bad noises. "Fucking Police Brutality!" then a thud.

"You fucking cunt," said with an it's-for-your-own-good friendly menace "that was MY face you just scratched. EARTH to CADET," wet slap-slap sounds prolong the episode in the shower.

The TV gets turned off... nothing Reverend James can say will add up to the fun sounds coming from the bathroom. Vulture wanders over, still stuffing his face, and stands next to the bathroom door. Off to the side like. Listenning in. His gaze goes idly to the bed where the voice was coming from before, another couple of scoops of cereal beginning to drain the bowl in which it resides. His head bops along to the soundtrack playing in his head as he does so.

"Dave.. they're killing me.." comes a weak cry. Then silence, then more screams. Then silence. Thrashing, thudding. Silence.

From under the bed comes a shrill cry, a cry of pain and anger and frustration. A tiny shape darts out, running with speed straight at Vulture. Its a monkey, in a suit. Along the way, it deftly grabs the previously discarded steak knife with a monkies-only dexterity and dives at the biker, knife first. "Noooo." it screams, seeing Vulture as guarding the door to the violence.

A squeak-squeak and dripping sound tells us Penny's turned off the shower. And she starts shouting "WHY AM I BLEEDING?" WHY. AM. I. BLEEDING?" with all the authority of The Authorities Pobble's been railing about all this time. Another squeak-squeak sounds like rubber soles stepping out of the tub, whip sounds like thrown towels and she drill seargents "GET UP. GET UP."

Pobble seems to have lapsed in to some form of comatose state. He twitches violently, then is still. Twitches again. Then still. Breathing is shallow. Although wet and soggy, he looks like he's burning up. The LSD continues to drip into the sink.

A punch, yeah, the punk would probably let it land. A knife, on the other hand, would leave a lasting impression. Vulture has too many of those. Even as the monkey is quick, the birdman is quick. Spitting out his current mouthful of Tony's flakes he drops the bowl to the floor - yet holds the spoon evenly in his hand. Sidestepping rapidly out of the way the Carrion bird drops his shades onto the end of his nose, "This's FUCKT!" He exclaims, a grin rippling lengthwise across his lips, "Y'wanna go? Its go time, Curious George..." Apparently, unlike other criminal elements in this city, the mohawked one just doesn't carry anything that can be considering a weapon. So, in pure Tick fashion - SPOON!

The door to the bathroom opens behind you and like providence, Penny's hand grabs and pulls you inside the bathroom. Slams the door. "Erm.. uh.. hi."

Whirling around, spoon held high for the kill, Vulture looks stupified and ready to rock and roll - all at the same time. He blinks, not once, but a whole bunch of times, "Th'fuck?" He peers around the bathroom, half expecting a knife carrying suit wearing talking monkey to come flying out of the wall at any moment. Of course, that's what happens when you're dreaming. Right?

The tub's running now. And Penny's soaking wet, red slashes on her cheeks. "I'm SO So so so so so so so sorry about that." Wide eyed, Penny is convincing and totally believable. "My friend" indicating at what's behind the shower curtain in the bathtub "left one of his programs running. Stupid lasershow bullshit. All that cable and the computers on the desk," a little out of breath she pauses here, flips the toilet seat and lid down and sits "he's mad fucking cool but he's totally fucking crazy. Thing was cycling for shutdown," looking at a much waterlogged watch "like at 10:30."
Put into perspective the whole Dream theory gets chucked out the window. Ever the curious sort, Vulture opens to the shower curtain to take a brief peek, and then looks back down at the woman on the toilet. You. He points the spoon, "Well, this's certainly been a fuck'n cool night... no word've a lie. I ain't never been attacked by a fuck'n monkey n'a suit 'fore..." With his free hand he pushes his shades back up on his face, "Y'might wanna throw a couple o' dressins on y'cheeks, tho'... laser show'r not, y'boyfrien' there did a number on y'face." The whole computer lingo thing, for the most part, goes right over his head. He can turn one on and loosely surf the net - but everything else is Greek.
wipes at her face with the back of her hands "Be fine," though she winces. "The whole stinkbomb thing is part of this like.. treehouse security system he's rigging up for our new place but .. this just isn't working. A monkey in a suit? So fucking lame. You weren't fooled were you?" Rhetoric, she knows you weren't. Elbows on her knees, Penny shivers; wet clothes don't really do much for her now do they. "I gotta get the place cleaned up 'fore the rest of them come back," still a little embarrassed by the whole affair "this is ridiculous. Catch up some other time, eh?"