RP [Phoenix Team] - Through The Cries

Rumia gritted her teeth as everything played out, the sound of a deflating tire passing her tongue. She stopped channeling her magics, bitterly hoisting her sword onto her shoulder. She stared at the collapsing building, like she'd really wanted to be the one to collapse it.

"It looks like the culprits are well in hand. Phoenix, the culprit seems to have been no match for your. . . methods," Rumia said, dragging her stare away from the ruin and to the human. "I expect Rider will have a lot to say to you after all this."

 

Brigg's Gaming Parlour, Street Level, Amid a Clearing of People
"Well, that's because people wanna see a building fall over, not be in the middle of it!" He called over to Breyja and Ravnir as he confirmed their safe(r) status. A Unit scanned them both as they passed by - vital signs were stable, but pulses were elevated and steadily winding down. Of note were some shards of shrapnel which had managed to get past Breyja's shield, and the classic signs of magic expenditure in Ravnir. Indeed, he could really go for a good meal now.

"Not sure how it is where you lived Ravnir, but there's a big difference!" For one, humans were as the Raiken would eloquently put 'squishy'. From what Luca saw, he surmised Ravnir would be able to survive a building collapse - maybe even walk away from one. Something only the lucky humans got to do.

Luca nodded in agreement with Rumia as she wrapped the situation up verbally. "The cops have Geomancer under wraps, and our target is safe." An ideal outcome despite the crumbling building behind him and one hell of a fussed cause. When the likes of Rider were brought into the conversation, a wry smirk crossed Luca's features.

"Hopefully he takes everything you say with pinch of salt." Luca said, feeling as though he was assessed throughout. In his mind, the criteria for mission success were reached, but were his marks satisfactory against a harsh judge? It wasn't worth worrying about while the blood and adrenaline were still fluid. "Because things change, Shadowcat."

What was a little professional paranoia between colleagues, anyway? Many within the EAD would mistake it for respect since outright hostility was frowned upon by the handlers and Units. Luca may have been passed that stage, with the benefit of hindsight, but the future and a resurgence meant new horizons were coming inexoriably closer, and so too had the way things were done. Speaking of Units though, Rumia and Luca saw one human-shaped one 'standing' in their midst, almost invisible in the peripheral and against the backdrop of the onlookers, police, and construction Units keeping the gaming parlour from toppling.

Everyone looking in would see EAD's fiery and passionate personalities - almost as though in their own ranks they had their own heroes and villains. It gave the once great organisation a romanticised outlook on the job of saving the world - some among them mistook it for a social game instead of an entrusted duty. Yttrium assumed Luca, Rumia and the shouty lizardy thing had all known each other in the past, hence all the insults and informalities - and even outright disrespect shown to the Rolaan (though deservedly so). She never recalled seeing soldiers, security guards or police talk eachother up and down that way - with good reason - it didn't breed a culture of discipline. The EADs' individual ability made it impossible for their like to integrate with the regular arm of a fighting and defence force. Were the EADs violence-oriented civil workers at the behest of the inscrutable Units, or dangerous characters enabled by naive robots in pursuit of 'data'?

Crossing his arms and whistling to get the attention of his peers, Luca called his group to action, talking them over and outlining the need to recover. "I think we should freshen up, yeah? Wipe the blood off, get fresh and see what Elena's men have done to Midway Beach before RACCA finally shows up." Of course, they'd probably show up half an hour later once the pomp and circumstance had evaporated and the situation was under control by the professionals. "Rumia, you can tag along if you want," Luca put his hands in his pockets and looked aside, grinning wryly. "but someone's gonna want a keep an eye on Jirou's blood pressure when he sees the headlines tonight. Just saying."

If nothing else, Luca wore that audacity like a rake. The Chelti cousins of Snuffles were eager to facilitate transport. The two large beings would fit easily on the car trailer transport, and Luca noticed that his, Breyja's and Snuffles' bikes were already carted off, and ready to go, while Rumia could hide in someone's shadow. As everyone was leaving, so too did an observant canine who was beneath the notice of the crowd or the Units. A canine-shaped automaton in a tacky tropical shirt, keeping tabs on the movements of the heavies in Sargasso - solemnly noting that there was no sign of Seiren, but seeing more associates and more details - as well as capturing an amazing snapshot which would give an upcoming news story of the events at Briggs Gaming Parlour a face.

AN HOUR PASSED IN TRANSIT...


Flatiron's Hill, 55 Midway Beach, Just Outside The Warehouse
The three bikes pulled up to the 'back entrance' of the no longer unassuming warehouse, while the car-trailer dropped its two riders/cargo off, honking and hollering for Snuffles to "call us again sometime" on the promise of a good deal. As Luca's bike rolled down the stone road and came to a stop with a gentle push of the brakes. The first thing he noticed in front of his place were two utility vehicles; Laden with tools and flanked by men with hi-visibility shirts.

The labourers, Greasehearts and couple of Chelti were sitting by a planned projection of the house, smoking cigarettes and drinking cheap bottled coffees and electrolyte-infused energy drinks, exchanging jibes and cataloguing the day's dirt and sweat. It layered thick upon their brows gloves, boots, and most importantly, their pride. They appeared indifferent to Luca's approach, looking up for a moment before returning to chattering with each other over a job well done. A construction-based Unit hovered near one of the lorries in a rest state, boxy chassis greebled with parallel lines, sporting segmented telescoping arms and hardlight manipulation to lift, fit and assemble what the tradies couldn't do by eye and hand.

The hideout at Midway Beach was concealed at street level by a mixed development shop which got three storeys tall. One for business, one for storage, one for family. Luca finally got a view of his hideout as the awnings and balconies made way for the flat exterior of the Warehouse - and he was floored by what he saw - the warehouse had expanded to fill all the space that could be fit on the plot of land Johnny had the rights to. The green lines of grassy soil which flanked the building previously were now developed on. Now, the single-storey warehouse was two storeys tall, its roof flattened and flat reinforced skylights added instead of the warehouse-classic sawtooth pattern of old.

Looking through the now enlarged roller-doors, Luca saw the nose of the Fantail he'd purchased, parked on its wheels and stood in place by the cargo-bay underside dropping down onto the landing pad. The whole pad was on lowered risers - which reached each corner of the Warehouse once fully activated and ready to launch or receive a vessel. A vertical tank and robot-operated nozzle for holding and filling fuel and replenishing reactor cores provided amenities for the spacecraft.

From outside the roof looked similar to how the warehouse was previously, but looking up from inside everyone could see the mechanised hinges at the corners and edges of either side, and interlocking bifurcation which allowed it to open up and accept the vessel. Even so with the interior space being taken up by the hangar facilities, there was room off to the right side for two cars and about six motorcycles to shack up in an internal garage. The walls of this building-within-building were festooned with the tools and interfaces necessary to diagnose and repair a vehicle.

At the back of the room, a pair of wide concrete staircases pointing opposite directions from the centre lead down into a basement-made living area, as did a cargo elevator. Emergency shutters, guard railings, and floorplan markings were present. Down under the hangars was the new living space - a meeting room with a large table with a tactile computer-projector in the middle of it. The kitchen had been expanded with a walk-in pantry (something Luca never knew he wanted until now!), mens and women's toilets and showers, an secure storage room intended for armoury purposes with its integrated workbench, and a large bunkroom pre-furnished with beds, shelves and desks.

After having gone in and out to look through in his own pace, Luca emerged several minutes later without his jacket and guns, chatting to the tradesmen who were chilling out. A few salient points came from the man with a sausage roll and a helmet covered in stickers, and cheap-ass sunglasses tinted an awful shade of sickly iridescent orange "...yeah nah all of the upper space was converted into a hangar, but the good news is you now have a basement. You can all live there now!" A whoop and a laugh went up among the tradies.

As the laughter subsided and left Luca with a grin, a weedy looking tradesman likely the electrician spoke up. "Oh, and we made sure the stairs and elevators were enough to support the weight of the two of youse combined." He indicated towards Yttrium and Ravnir. The crude lit up in a blush, grabbing at her tummy and bemoaning her poor diet making her 'fat'.

"Is this their idea of subtle...?" Yttrium asked, tilting her head and blinking as she took in the scope and size of the refurbished living space, especially the taller ceilings compared to before. Neither she nor Ravnir had to bend over in fear of hitting a pipe or crushing a doorway. "I'm not that fat..." Something debatable, and subject to change frequently.

Another of the tradies, obstensibly the mechanic and a professional boor was oogling Yttrium as her rear jiggled when she went down the stairs or bent over to inspect something that wasn't at her eye level. It didn't evade Luca, who raised an eyebrow at the mechanic and loomed over them with a frown. Confronted, the mechanic diffused the tension with a question: "You don't mind if we stay around a little longer and pack our shit up, yeah?" He asked.

Luca shrugged dismissively and nodded: the Tradies were in Elena's pocket, and Johnny was in the loop to allow one of his properties to get redeveloped, hence the Fantail being parked with everything but a ribbon atop it. "Not at all," Luca replied. "Lets order us some victory tucker - pizza and burgers, anyone?" The tradies liked that idea and the choice was deliberate on Luca's part - trolling Rumia's 'sensibilities' and appealing to his core team and not the outlier with a vested interest. I'll have to ask if they can just roast a huge hunk of meat for the big guy. Luca mused as he settled into his new base, taking in that new building smell of gypsum, sawdust, masonry dust, and that faint after-taste of oil and metal. They'll need one hell of a cardboard box for it...

 

Rumia afforded Luca one final "tch," before dropping out of sight completely, vanishing out of sight the moment everybody's eyes were off her and on Luca - which took some doing and eventually resulted in her wandering slightly off to the side awkwardly when she realized she couldn't just leave while everybody was rubbernecking the scene.

~~~

Noir, Shinka Studios

Jirou pulled out his ringing comms and answered it.

"So, how did it go?" he answered, already aware of the person on the other line.

"The inferior spellcaster has been subdued and the target was secured with only a minor hindrance," Rumia responded.

"Alright, so what's your take on Pavone?"

"Phoenix is reckless and dangerous, and his companions vary from weak and martially focused to one single spellcaster, inferior technique, but foolishly destructive."

"Rumia, you need to stop letting your bias colour your reporting. I didn't ask for your opinion." Jirou's tone shifted.

". . . yes, well, Phoenix seems to have caught on to my role in the mission. At the very least, he is capable."

Jirou sighed. "Well, give me your full report when you get back to Noir. And work on your attitude."

 

Flatiron's Hill, 55 Midway Beach, Phoenix Team Hideaway
"Curvy's just the way I'm shaped~" Yttrium replied to the Maidenhand. "But I betcha can't change your shape on a dime and make clothes with it~!"

Noticing that Rumia hadn't manifested at all, nor did security pick up her presence, Luca realised he was one person short. "I wonder what Seiren's up to?" he quizzed himself, sending the inventor a ping message to come over and share the upcoming meal if they could. "And better still, what're Driver and Rider gonna do?" He had the feeling today's events were like a cherry atop a pile of EAD-related issues in Sargasso which wouldn't just 'blow over' somehow, even if such occurrences were startlingly frequent for Luca. Next time I'll offer to walk Crone's cat. That'll be more relaxing than today.

Luca got computer in the ready room beneath the hangar to consult takeaway services. A pool of money and orders were thrown together haphazardly, but with several hundred thousands of Unit coins and rods scattered on the table, any order no matter how outlandish could be made in confidence: For the humanoids like Luca, Breyja, Snuffles and the tradies, burgers and pizza from Billy Boy's were the order of the day. Two six-packs of Albion-made lagers were procured from a chest fridge by Snuffles, while Luca emerged from the standing fridge with two litres of something dark and sugary which was apparently like cola.

Other bottled refreshments would be on their way. For Ravnir, Luca had to flick onto an mining resource reseller to figure out which sort of stone Ravnir could stomach: They settled on iron-rich clusters of red-streaked stone, and bought a dozen whole barbecued chickens with a whole bottle of tangy chilli sauce to douse it. Ravnir's order took longer to secure and deliver than the others, but soon everyone would be fed. The tradesmen were equal parts grateful and stoked to be dining with 'that guy who punches monsters and criminals' and his posse - and a goddamn Raiken. Shit like this was the stuff of tall stories.

"Some of the guys in the EAD had weird eating habits." Luca mentioned during the lunch conversation, halfway through a cheeseburger. "Like Infogel. They were an algae-eater Sourcia who did bio-hack work, so... very niche and back-room stuff." A wash of 'cola' - unusually bitter for his palette, more a caramel flavour. "He lived in an aquarium."

"Fish flakes not enough for them, then?" One of the tradies jousted with a jest.

Luca took a sip of beer to get the 'cola' taste out of his mouth. "We tried putting fish in the tank for company and good looks, it ate them all."

Yttrium declined taking an order, as her dietary requirements were wildly incompatible to the others, and her 'pantry' of designated hydrocarbon sustenance was soon located as she followed her olfactories. She treated herself to a bucket of navy blue paint, weaving herself a dress of plastic by reshaping the oil compounds in the liquid paint into a vinyl outer skin, which she extruded and cut freely, shaping and reshaping with her fingertips.

In the process, she had compressed, woven and redistributed a sizeable portion of her mass, and shrunk to a smaller six and a half-plus feet tall from eight previously. Even so, Yttrium's curvy figure had not been lost, and she chirped, sitting back to watch the others and take a load off before heading to meet the person they were all responsible for rescuing.


MEANWHILE, ACROSS TOWN...

Brigg's Gaming Parlour, Street Level, Cordoned Off
Only a couple of hours after the team had departed, the world around the ruined building had settled back into its routine - the spectacle was over, and life had resumed as normal. A drop-top convertible hover-sedan pulled up in front of the now dark gambling parlour, and the questions were only beginning for Frankie, aghast at the state of his major investment in Sargasso with its foundation smashed in two, most of the windows at ground level blown out somehow, the front desk squashed and blown apart, an entire wall off to the alley on the left missing - and that was just what the gangster could see after he lifted his glasses away from his brow.

Amid the carnage and working diligently were fire fighting drones, spraying fires out with a fast-acting flame retardant foam, scanning the structural integrity of the building. From behind Frankie and without regard to the man's personal space, a humanoid Unit coalesced into space, torso and arms weaving into being as its eyeless face looked down at the man. "You are the owner of this business," the Unit spelled out, and Frankie didn't want to turn around - he was too affixed to how thoroughly things had been destroyed in his house. "There was a lively disagreement while you were out."

Frankie trod through the debris of overturned and smashed pachinko machines, mindful of the ball bearings spilled all over the floor. "No shit! How did this happen?" He cried out, unable to confirm the status of the basement hideout of his due to a partially collapsed ceiling obstructing the way downstairs. Drones had no trouble reaching in.

"The Phoenix Team were here." The Unit answered. "The drones tell me contents of your room, and your furniture is in passable condition. Footage shows they had no interest in anything on the basement level." The Unit assured the distraught gangster, trying to find the good in the situation before moving onto the reality: "But during the altercations with the tenants, the foundation was cracked through the middle, and several of your building's load-bearing beams are massively compromised."

The bald-headed man shook his head in disbelief and rubbed his temple. I leave Driver alone for one week. Frankie surmised, trying to piece together what his assigned psychopath in residence from Tanhauss was doing without his guidance. And he draws all the heat in Sargasso on this point? He was impressed at how quickly things had gone pear shaped. "Do whatever you want, I've got a place out in the sticks," Frankie replied to the Unit, grabbing for his communicator and stepping back towards his ride.

The Unit, having seen Frankie's behavioural patterns noticed a segment of his usual interactions was missing: "No pleading to jump the queue, or speed up the rebuild this time?" The Unit asked coyly. "Are you going to leave it to us at our own pace?" Brigg's Gaming Parlour was a repeat customer for little 'nicks and bumps' in the past, but nothing so thorough or destructive as what Phoenix Team and Geomancer had left behind. "Droids tell me there's heaps of dirt and gravel from Devil's Depths inside a room on the third floor. Know anything about that at least?"

"Man, I-" Frankie sighed as he got to the sidwealk, "I had nothing to do with this" he got back into his hover-sedan, powering the engine on. He gave the Unit a look in the eyes, "I lent this place to a friend I'm gonna have a word with now..." With that, he put his sunglasses back on and let the hover sedan's flight computer take it into traffic and towards his other hideaway. All while Frankie's connections and resources were looking like bum investments - associated with a destructive former EAD and psychopath in residence employed by Tanhauss. The fact that Frankie was working with Noir at all made him look suspicious to the hegemonic criminal landscape he was cultivating to go along with his schemes and ventures for a cut.

Frankie's trip to his bolthole in the Wetlands took an hour via autopilot - giving him plenty of time to get on the horn with his remaining friendly contacts locally and at Tanhauss to discuss how much of a liability Driver was to local operations. All Frankie was told was his guys would be looking after someone Driver kidnapped - nothing big. It was the disproportionate reaction to his property and no sign of contrition or contact from Driver.

While putting his case forward to his contacts, Frankie got to watch the sunset over a blue horizon as his car followed the bridge over the Split Delta southwest. "...at the very least," he suggested when it came to dealing with Driver's destructive streak "he should get his own little fortress or something - because the way he rolls, the blowback ain't quiet!" Was his concession: A place where the former EAD could be safely contained in, and defended thoroughly from attack by the Phoenix Team. "Because he ain't blowing up my perfectly legitimate gambling parlour - again - without telling me!"

 

Flatiron's Hill, 55 Midway Beach, Phoenix Team Hideaway
Noticing that Seiren hadn't replied, Luca let the inventor slide on by. "Hm, kid must be busy." He concluded to himself before overhearing what Snuffles had been saying, speaking with their whole body into the phone. To answer Breyja, Luca shrugged and said "dunno - they didn't have a worldview that aligned neatly with good, bad, and personal boundaries," Looking over to Yttrium, he used the couch lounging crude as an example. "Complex dual-cored sourcians like her do complex things, but simple or specialised ones like Infogel just survive and do what they're good at."

Yttrium rolled from her side onto her back, lifting one of her legs up, evening dress cascading down as she admiring the hose she'd woven herself. Thinner than the material she made for her dress, and a dark navy in colour. She glanced towards the others. "And I'm great at being provocative~!" She said, unaware of the context of the conversation about Sourcians.

"We know!" Luca replied, waving as the tradies gave the crude looks, the mechanic let the patty fall out of their burger as they had become transfixed by Yttrium's excessively sultry lounging. All that was missing was for her to lay on a piano singing the blues while Luca - squeezed into a cream white suit with a rose in the lapel - played on.

On the other side of Snuffles' communications line was an equally enthusiastic Ally, wrapping up a shift at the Hero's Armaments and saddling her motorised push-bike. "Sure! I'll be there soon," she said as the electric engine spun up, headlamp pouring a light into the rear of the pub as red diodes blinked beneath her bike seat and on the mudguard. As she was pedalling out towards a bike path, she asked "how did Luca catch the Witch's attention anyway? He do her a solid?" Putting her back into it, she was speeding along the bike path.

Back at the hideaway, a delivery drone had pulled up and rung the doorbell, carrying a cardboard box containing several kilograms of powdery red hematite, moments later a huge carton of whole roasted poultry arrived. Luca was able to wave them in and watch them from downstairs with the aid of security cameras the builders had installed, and walked everyone through as the need arose. "Huh, that's useful. Anything else we should know about here?" Luca asked, curious as to what else Elena could bring together over a couple of weeks and executed in but one day.

"Oh, lots-ah quality of life features fer all weirdos big and small." The electrician replied, hearing the drones make their way in with the goods and looking towards the stairwells. Indeed, two delivery drones dropped their wares on the table, making everything else bounce. "You'll settle in fine eh?"

The foreman of the tradies, who was eating his second helping nodded along. "Nah yeah; We did a good job, like we were told to." As Ravnir came in from up above, he noticed a disc-shaped, wide and sturdy metal stool which could fit seat him. He found his meal waiting for him in a large, flat steel bowl - a dozen whole roasted chickens slathered in chilli sauce. Off to the side in a thick cardboard box was piles of ferrous stone, an equivalent roughage for the alien.

Looking upon chicken mountain in all of its glory, Luca whistled in appreciation. "Do they have chickens where you lived?" He asked the raiken. Meat may have been meat, but different varieties had different tastes, qualities, and recipes. Sharing ideas, especially in regards to food was always an interesting proposition. "I bet they're nowhere near as squishy as our birds, but much tastier, yeah?"

The mechanic, who was putting the patty back into their half-eaten burger spoke up. "I'm ninety percent sure their idea of a chicken could kick your dunny door down, rip your heart out and feel no remorse."

"Well that obviously means its delicious!" Luca jostled back.

 

Flatiron's Hill, 55 Midway Beach, Phoenix Team Hideaway
Luca was happy that his alien guest was enjoying the meal he was able to throw together. "Flying, steel feathered murder birds." Luca repeated Ravnir's outline of the fauna where he came from. The idea disturbed him a little, but he was only making comparisons with himself to Ravnir's homeworld. "Why stop at assault weapons?" Luca petitioned Breyja, fencing at her with one of his fries with a glib smile, "bring that rail cannon you keep lugging around, see if that tickles them!" He suggested. "I'll bring as many frag-twelves and tungsten-tipped flechettes as my webbing will allow me!"

Taking Breyja's advice on board, Yttrium decided to be only more tantalising towards the tradesmen - gingerly lifting the hem of her skirt up to show off more thigh. The electrician leaned in with his beer, the mechanic pursed their lips, and the foreman let their burger slip out of its bun. Then, she lifted it all the way up and turned onto her side, facing the men - and they all fell back in shock and awe, save for the Foreman content to leer. "I wish we had us a crude your shape at headquarters..." he lamented, taking a big swig from his beer. Luca meanwhile had seen this routine before, looking aside.

Yttrium let go of the skirt and covered herself. "You just gotta be a man of action like the Phoenix!" Yttrium cheerled for the team's leader with a wink towards the boys, blowing them a kiss. Luca could be seen blushing at the compliment while the tradies had finally been pushed over the edge - the electrician had a nosebleed now while the mechanic had fallen over backwards on their stool.

And so the Phoenix team enjoyed a hearty evening together, with drink, food, and merriment to secure and strengthen their bonds as a team. Allison came by dressed for an utterly raucous night of debauchery at Harumi's, causing the builders to oogle some more and Luca to plant his head on the table at Ally's straightforwardness. Yttrium saw it as competition to her evening wear, but meagre competition compared to her gelatinous curves and malleable dress.


ELSEWHERE...

Driver's Compound, Somewhere in Sargasso...
In the Dead of the Night, a couple of days later...

♫ Sjellos - Chamber of Reflections ♫

The man formerly known as Dean Bodala, now known to the world at large (or Sargasso at least) as The Driver - perceived that he'd been burnt by his newfound employers. Locked away, cloistered for his own safety and protection. Ostensibly, he was given his own facilities: a hiding spot far from Sargasso's urban, built-up areas where he could store his equipment, the mecha he had assigned to him, and himself. It'd become clear to the higher-ups that he was a liability around others, and had to be figuratively chained down and monitored to be cowed into submission - and released when desirable.

With only himself to ruminate with and string of embarrassment and failure weighing on him against Phoenix Team, Driver had destroyed his surroundings in a fit of rage earlier in the day. His unbridled strength led him to smash furniture, fixtures, and fittings apart in anger. Bestial roars giving way to overwhelming sorrow as he realised that he was no more than a chip in someone else's game. Tanhauss' game. With no perceived control, he wallowed with his regrets in a pitch-black room, convinced that his story and usefulness had met an ignoble end.

Even so, someone from within the company was about to make a gamble with this valuable chip, willing enough to wipe the grime away from what they saw as a squandered diamond. They had the authority from a power higher than Ilsa.

"I see you."

Driver looked up, scanning the room for the source of the voice. It sounded like a woman of regal bearing and society, but there was something off about it - a reverberation unreproducible by the human larynx. Nobody was scheduled to examine the beast in his pen. "Who's that?" Driver asked, hoarse as he looked through the dark room. His cybernetic vision scanned the room. There was nobody he could see.

The sound of heels echoed through the dark room, echoing off the walls and the floor, each step from a different point in the room - Driver swivelled towards the noise with a piece of concrete debris, hurling it in the new arrival's direction. The sound of stone smashing against the wall could be heard as he flicked his eyes back to 'normal view' and saw nobody else. Was he hallucinating something? Had he finally gone off the deep end in his unfulfilled grief?

"I can't believe you let yourself live like this without someone to keep you in line." The woman's voice could be heard again. Listening closer, Driver deduced that it wasn't Ilsa. A snap of the fingers could be heard and the lights in Driver's quarters flicked on, though no bulb or ray-tube had been left unsmashed. Immediately ahead of Driver was nobody, but as he looked around the room, he saw them - first out the corner of his eye, then right in his face.

A blank faced woman with a single eye in its centre stared up at him, black sclera unfathomably deep as the red bands of her iris danced. She was wearing an immaculate business suit that stretched down over every feature as second skin, heels, gloves and all entirely seamless as lines and cut-aways in the suit glowed white with a deep, eldritch power and not an inch of visible skin. Black and white hair flowed outwards from her ... scalp, maybe head, possibly behind it? Shifting as though they were looking in through from an aquarium, gently billowing upwards as seaweed at rest.

This ... was not human. This was something else entirely - something in Driver's mind caused him not to raise his hand, nor question what was unfolding upon him, like a force unseen was weighing from their sheer presence. The burly man stood up from his cocoon of frustration, and although he was physically imposing compared to this strange new arrival, this force of otherworldly wrongness blotted out anything he could muster in his broken state. "What. Are. You." Driver asked, standing indignantly against the weird new arrival.

"Huh! Most people scream blue murder, try to attack me, or question if its all real when they see me," the thing replied, taken aback for a moment before deciding to honour the question "so I'll get the specifics out of the way, just for you." She made a deep bow towards the imposing man.

♫ Boards of Canada - 1969 ♫

"I am Temhebu, the Forgotten Gift - Gruppen Tanhauss' newest majority shareholder. Above Ilsa, Frankie, and the riff-raff they force you to work with." Unperturbed by Driver's destroyed environs, they dragged a chair away from a splintered table with a thought, taking a seat and crossing her legs, looking up at the imposing man. "I have a proposition to give you, as I have an eye for talent..."

The entity giggled at their own joke, eye shifting position on their featureless face as her chortle echoed. "But I must get something out of the way first - you're obsessed with him, aren't you~?" The sudden shift in question threw Driver off guard, head tilting at this woman. "Don't lie, I see through your flesh, your bones, your mind." The implants not so much but they could be examined later by a thrall perhaps. "I read lesser men like brochures and discard them as such, but you are a novel I just can't put down! Packed with action, drama, heartbreak, and even some pornography! Ahuhu~!"

Driver was too stunned at how certain Temhebu was in their assessment, and if he had cheeks beneath his mask, they'd have flushed. He knew exactly who they were talking about, and where the alleged pornography in his life story was. Fuck's sake, what happens in the EAD was supposed to stay in there... Driver considered - he hadn't even told anyone else at Tanhauss how deep the relationship was prior to the breakup.

"Oh! That got a rise out of you! But I know what stands between you and fulfilling your want of revenge on him now - and I can remove that for you!" Though she was seated, her chair moved with her as she sized Driver's physique up, thinking that it wasn't the only thing he was plucked by Tanhauss for "and get you back on the rails with your latest task."

This made Driver question something as some of his depression sloughed off him, and he attempted to care for himself by walking towards the kitchen, and getting himself a cup of water. A few cups hadn't been shattered into silicate thankfully. "So you put out the message for acquiring an arcane power source on Sargasso?" He asked, now cordial if nothing else.

"Turns out you're a quick learner, too~! Yes! I was looking for something outside my wheelhouse of wealth, and that's why I want to be direct with you." The Forgotten Gift clapped her hands together. "Most of your plan was on the right track - picking an excellent target and the right person to seize them." She commended. "But, your choice of storage and the trail your chosen mage left was less than ideal, but that is a simple mistake for those not versed in the ways."

Driver sighed. "Magic ain't my strong suit. Mecha fire support and extra-judicial kidnappings with the boys were." He conceded, crossing his arms. "First mage I could track down who was willing to go along with this was that scale-assed dirt digger, but now I see they went soft and arrogant."

"As many mages seem to do. At least you don't have to worry disciplining the Rolaan yourself - Phoenix got them and handed them over to the police." Temhebu replied. Driver waved at the idea dismissively - Geomancer was out of sight and out of mind now. The Forgotten Gift reached up to Driver's forehead, hand upon helmet. "Now, hold still." She said, as Driver crossed his eyes, feeling something bleed through his flesh and directly into his head, gasping in unexpected pain. The man crumpled onto his knees as the Phasma imposed their will on their newest and most capable thrall.

"I must anoint you."

>STAY TUNED...!