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Preventative Measures (IC)


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"Yes, of course," Fleur said, sounding distracted, but game. "Anything that would shed some light on what's going on. Everyone gather in, I'll teleport us right outside the gate." She took a moment to look through the plants around the prison and find an inconspicuous place near the doors, then had everyone join hands and touched the flowers in her hair with one hand. In a moment, they all saw a flash of green light and smelled fresh-mown grass for an instant, and then they were standing outside the prison. "Maybe I shouldn't be along for this," she offered. "I mean, you never know if we might be giving someone an idea they wouldn't have had otherwise."

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Gabriel blinked and shook his head to clear the cobwebs. He'd never been teleported by Fleur de Josie before, so the experience was different, to say the least. He now took the time to survey his surroundings, including attempting to identify the entrance to the prison.

"So...how do we arrange this? Can we just walk in and say we want to talk to so-and-so? Do we get "hero privileges" with visitations?"

He looked at the three ladies a bit awkwardly.

"Sorry for the silly questions. Just kinda new to this aspect of the whole hero thing, you know? Up until now it's mostly been taking on regular criminals, with a couple straight-up fights with bigger opponents mixed in. This sort of clue-following...Well, I'm not saying I'll be bad at it. Just new. So...bear with me?"

He flashed a winning grin at the women with him. It didn't quite reach his eyes. Clearly, Gabriel was still worried and confused by everything that had been happening.

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"Yes, of course," Fleur said, sounding distracted, but game. "Anything that would shed some light on what's going on. Everyone gather in, I'll teleport us right outside the gate."

Grim loved her nose. She didn't talk about it very much, but her hyperenhanced sense of smell was secretly one of her favorite things about her new faeire body; food tasted so much better, people smelled much sexier (or much stinkier, sadly) and each flower was like a tiny universe unto itself.

To be honest she didn't know Stesha very well, since they both really only knew each other secondhand through friends, but whenever she was around the plant-controlling heroine, the changeling's nose twitched with delight. A woman who worked with plants all day, who herself always smelled like a beautiful English garden after a light rain (due to some aspect of her powers, no doubt); well, the effect was potent and quite wonderful. And now she'd just whisked them all through some fascinating green world, a tantalizingly brief journey though a realm of half-forgotten dreams and memories...

"Maybe I shouldn't be along for this," she offered. "I mean, you never know if we might be giving someone an idea they wouldn't have had otherwise."

"Mmm?" It was several seconds before the Jewish ninja pixie was able to open her eyes; she blinked a few times and shook her head. "Ah, yes, well maybe you should change your look?"

She cocked her head this way and that, appraising Stesha closely before holding out her hands; suddenly a pair of shopping bags appeared with various tops, pants and shoes in an array of colors, trailing thin streams of mist. "I'm not a hundred percent on your style, but anything in these will fit you." She indicated a patch of grass a few feet away. "I could make you a little changing booth...y'know, assuming you want to try some stuff on." She shrugged affably. "It's no big either way."

"So...how do we arrange this? Can we just walk in and say we want to talk to so-and-so? Do we get "hero privileges" with visitations?"

Grimalkin frowned thoughtfully. "Actually, that's a darn good question."

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"We're superheroes," said Fusion decisively. "We can make it work. And even if not...well, I have ways of getting into places." As it turned out, though, they didn't need much subterfuge to get into see Red Bolt, aka Nelson Fletcher. Fusion told the prison staff that they were there to talk to the fallen hero because someone was using his old rants again, and the thought of a copycat supervillain was sufficiently frightening to let the Blackstone guards escort them into the psychiatric wing of the mostly underground complex. Fusion kept her tentacles close around her midsection, listening as the guards explained Fletcher's stay: he was technically insane, but the magnitude of his crimes had kept him out of Providence under pressure from the authorities. He was coming up on twenty-five years in the same cell, where he'd probably spend the rest of his natural life. His doctors weren’t sure whether “the Shepherd” was a new identity for Red Bolt, an invisible friend, a fragmented personality, or someone else entirely.

They met Nelson in his cell, the former hero needing to be called to get their attention. The formerly trim, vigorous young champion was now a whispery old man, an Old Testament beard down to his chest, with a bizarre cell. Shelves crammed with books filled one wall, while another wall was covered with a strange mural that seemed to bear closer inspection. Upon being summoned by the guard, Nelson Fletcher shuffled to the front of his cell and whispered, "Okay. I'm here. What do you need?"

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Stesha, who had decided that a new set of chimerical clothes wasn't going to do anything to change her appearance anyway, reluctantly stepped to the front of the group when no one else seemed inclined to get the ball rolling. "We need to ask you some questions," she told the old prisoner. "What do you know about a country called the Sahwari Republic? Do you know if it has anything to do with your Shepherd?"

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"Ah, the Shepard! You know him!" Nelson Fletcher lit up, and for a second it seemed as though Red Bolt was still inside him. "Soon, soon the Shepard will return and cleanse the world for his flock. It had been a hard road in this cell these many long years, my friends, but I know he has not abandoned me. When the time is right, he shall return from the sky and repopulate the world with clean men and clean animals, bringing about a golden age!" He coughed nervously, then added, "Ladies, of course there will be clean women too. The Book was written in a different time, when those things were taken for granted...here, let me show you something far better than my clumsy tongue!"

He pointed them to his mural on the wall, which turned out to be a depiction of a lovely green Earth, shining and new, covered with fertile plants. In the distant background was the decaying remains of a city; neither there, nor anywhere in the picture, were there any people, or animals. Save up in the sky, in the 'space' of his picture, was a round, clear bubble, full of smiling, clean-limbed people, and strong-looking animals. "Here is his work!"

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Gabriel listened carefully to the man. This was...this was something different. The style of the language, some of the vague concepts, resembled more common religions. But everything else...He had to proceed carefully.

"I've only heard of this Shepard in passing, and just now. You say he's going to...clean the earth. Does he say why?

And...what is he like? You've told us what he will do, but I'd like to hear why; motivation speaks volumes.

And...how long ago was his book written? Who wrote it?"

Gabriel tries not to ask his questions too quickly, and to keep a gentle tone with the man. Sounding interested...which he was. He'd never heard of this "Shepard" before, but what he was hearing worried him a bit.

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Grim was very disturbed by this Red Bolt fellow; the thought that a former hero could turn so bad was frightening, and he was apparently some fairly lame hero from back in the 60s. What if one of the heroes she knew went bad? Not Avenger (she was doing her best to keep giving him the benefit of the doubt), but Doc Arch or Dark Star, or even Psyche? The though made her shudder.

As Red Bolt rambled on with his wacky Renfield routine, Grim's eyes wandered over the mural, looking for additional hints about this 'Shepard' and his connection to both Red Bolt and the day's events, muttering to herself under her breath.

"Might the Shepard be an alien? That glass bubble full of people and animals suggests some kind of Noah's Ark, but instead of a flood there's some kinda war or apocalypse. That would be 'cleansing' in the horrible 1990s Balkan sense, I'm guessing..."

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"Books? Books? Here, let me show you..." Red Bolt handed Gabriel a copy of the King James Bible, one heavily marked and annotated in prison-issue ink. On closer inspection, Gabriel discovered that the word shepard had been underlined in red everywhere it appeared. "You see? In this, as in all the great works of old, his coming is foretold. I met him many years ago through friends of friends, studying the ancient wisdom of the East through yoga. It was he who showed me the corruption of the world, and how only a purge on the scale of Noah's Ark could bring forth peace and justice in the world again. Oh yes, even now his Ark waits for us! Soon he will send his Horsemen for me."

Fusion gave the man a skeptical look. "You've been in here a long time, Nelson. Why'd the Shepard abandon you if he's so righteous?"

"The armies of the Beast defeated the Shepard once, forcing him to push back the day of his return from the sky! But soon, soon he will come, once he sends his Horsemen to..." Suddenly, there was a loud EXPLOSION from the prison courtyard, and suddenly Red Bolt gave a truly evil smile. "HE COMES! THE HORSEMAN COMES!"

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"HE COMES! THE HORSEMAN COMES!"

One of the top ten things you don't want to have happen while you're visiting prison is hear explosions; nothing good ever comes of them.

"Fan-freakin'-tastic, sounds like somebody up there really does like Boltie, that or his crazy buddies showed up with a bazooka. I'm gonna have a quick look-see."

In a flash, the tiny changeling became far tinier as she shrank down to pixie form and zipped outside to see what the ruckus is all about.

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Gabriel listened to Red Bolt's ravings while he examined the...modified...Bible. Certainly, there were references to a shephard. Sometimes, they even referred to God. But he couldn't help but feel the man was trying to make something that wasn't there. There were still too many questions. Did this "Shephard" have any other names? How had Red Bolt met him? These and other questions spun through his mind. Things didn't feel quite like they were meshing. He looked up to speak with the man again.

"Well, I can-"

And then there were explosions. Gabriel tossed the book back to Red Bolt as he turned to face the direction of their source.

"We won't be far behind, Grim."

He turned to look at his two remaining companions.

"Wonder if they're here for him...or someone else. Or even something...don't they keep some of the gear from the villains around here?"

He waited to start moving until one of the other, somewhat more experienced heroes took the lead. He wasn't sure if it was better to follow Grim, or to stay put so she could know where to report to them.

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