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Gallia Renaître : Little Goth Lost (IC)


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"I shall never forgive you for that pun as long as either of us lives, Aaliya!" Marceau said brightly.

 

He was a little uneasy at how quickly Louis had surrendered but put it down to his winning personality and respectful overtures. That and the word of the Ministry seemed to do wonders for persuading him, and the young costumed adventurer wondered if even the premier team of heroes in the Isles would have gotten better results.

 

Rene's open contempt for British drinks got an amused grin "I'm with my esteemed and cantankerous friend, Detective Cooper, we'll be glad to eat and drink with you! I've been to one of your pubs before, it was a...an experience." he said with a look askance. 'Between these two, my stomach for alcohol has its work cut out' he thought ruefully 'Few people I have ever met drink more than painters and the police' Seeing Aaliya's uneasy look he hastened to add "The Grav-Bike is quite faithful miss Cooper! And it has quite expansive, comfortable seating."

 

As they left he gave a friendly wave to the lady behind the desk, calling back "Thank you so much!"

Edited by Arichamus
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The pub was quiet  just a few tourists and a biker or two though most of them left to look at this hot ride that had just turned up. Aaliya insisted on paying for the drink, on the company budget no less, and she guided them to a quiet corner of the pub. From the bag she’d been carrying the whole time and pulled out rather chunky looking tablet.


“Whilst I have limited resources this gives me access to all of the Ministries files. One of the last Prime Minister set up the Archangel network for us so I can access it anywhere.â€


There was a few seconds of intense concentration whilst she logged onto the system.

 

“So what do you guy’s need?â€

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"Madam" said Rene, slowly and carefully. 

 

"I see you are no stranger to creatures of fantasy and myth. Well, my friend and I are on the trail of another one, unfortunately more powerful and enigmatic than the vampire you were interested in. Her name is Gallia, a spirit, or will, if you like of France. And I don't mean the reflection of the more modern France of the last few centuries" he said with a wiggle of his eyebrows. 

 

"No, she is a more ferral thing. Born of Kings and Queens, Tyrants and Blood. Craving power, and draping herself in people who she binds with the chains of her power. Quite why she came to this land, I do not know. I would have thought there were plenty of despots in the world in which she might march. But, it is near the seat of her strength, as it were. "

 

As he talked, he plucked out his paintbrush and, on a napkin, drew a quick but passable sketch of Gallia as they had last seen her. 

 

"This is what she looked like when we last crossed words. But she is an ephemeral spirit, and may bind herself to many mortal forms. Despite the difficulty of our task, we are driven to succeed..."

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After discreetly making sure that the Grav Bike was all but nailed to the ground, Marceau had relaxed considerably. Positively beaming with happiness at the close, comfy pub, he waved and smiled at some of the locals who were giving the odd group the once-over.

 

Calmly pushing back his cowl, he leaned back against the chair, savoring the bitter beer..and then Aaliyah brought them back to the reason they were all there. Setting the glass mug down carefully so he wouldn't slosh any of the glittering amber liquid onto the table, the King of Suits nodded shortly at Rene's description, chiming in darkly "She possessed the body of a young woman named Sophie Beatrice, an art historian who discovered a..piece of art that imprisoned the spirit, then fled to France after a hard battle with us. This," he took out his phone and quickly found the picture his agent in Calais had taken, putting the small device near Detective Cooper and jabbing a gloved hand at the second woman seen in the alley "appears to be her new host judging by my sources in France. I have no knowledge who she may be."

 

Slumping back and taking a slightly larger gulp of beer than was strictly wise, he looked gravely at her. "Can you work with that little, Detective?"

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With a few key taps Aaliyah bought up a file on Gallia and spent a few second’s scanning the content’s.


“Wow say’s here you and the Director met up in ‘44 Rene, I’m sure there’s a story there to be told.â€


A few more key taps and a she went to the most recent set of sighting.


“Yeah there’s been a series of attack on various teenage girls by someone matching Ms Beatrice’s description. French police are baffled, they must be if they shared the info with us. Last recorded attack was earlier today and even they haven’t processed the camera feed’s yet.â€


Aaliyah narrowed her eyes and looked at the pair suspiciously.

 

“Don’t suppose you want to tell me where you got this information, or why you think she’ll be coming here?â€

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"The Director. It was a very interesting meeting" said a tight lipped Rene his mind briefly floating back to his meeting with Britannia. 

 

"As to who she is. We witnessed the possession in front of us. And as you imagine, we have a sense of responsibility to ze poor victim. Damnation and blastedness, if we didn't let her slip between our fingers!" he said, releasing a pent up anger and punching his fist on the table. Not very hard, it should be said. 

 

"As for how we know she came here. I confess, I do not. I have certain, but unreliable powers of divination. All I can say is that we are both committed to finding this spirit, and I know that this place is pertinent to that search. I presume that means she is here, or at least this place is ze place to find her. The two are not exactly the same thing..." he said, cryptically. 

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"The display of the portrait for La Comtesse Constance de Domremy, a little while ago in Freedom City" Marceau explained with a gloomy note "I believe there was some news of that. That was when, and where it happened. The picture came from a recording taken by some of my agents in Calais. As for why we think she's coming here..." he shrugged awkwardly, tugging off his cape and neatly rolling it up to tie it onto his belt "It is as monsieur de Saens says. He is a very mystical sort" he added in a hurried murmur to the Detective.

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With a few click, disturbingly less than would be expected, Aaliya managed to get the camera feed up on her tablet.


“Don’t worry our French friends released this footage to us in case she came this way. Seems she has some sort of beef with Britannia, and that other one, for some reason.â€


She spent a few second watching the footage then paused it and pointed out to them the girl watching.

 

“I don’t know who she is, but she looks like the kind of woman who’d come to a place like this. Maybe Gallia want’s no witnesses, or is it something else that I’m missing."

 

She might seemed quite relaxed and charming but it was obvious that Aaliya has a detective’s instincts.

Edited by TiffanyKorta
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"That is her" nodded Rene, squinting through his spectacles. 

 

"Where was this video footage taken?" he asked Aaliya politely, although his interest was speeding up. 

 

"This makes little sense, but I think you are right about her conflict with Britannia. Thus it was, when she was born. I do not think she will change her nature lightly, if at all. Perhaps the centuries of brewing and stewing have only made her buttress her fanaticism" he pondered. 

 

"But this quaint place...Whitby. In Ze heart of England. Why here? is there something unusual about this place? was it just chance she chose here, or is there something unique about it? I can only recall it's fame as being from ze book Dracula, and whatever else she may be, I cannot class Gallia as a vampire!" he said, pushing his spectacles back on his nose and looking at Aaliyah. 

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"No worries Detective, we are glad to make friends where we can." the King of Suits reassured the Ministry agent with a hearty laugh.

 

"It was taken in Calais, above an alley near a hotel. The recording was made last night, though," Marceau took a drink of the beer, puzzling over the taste as his voice rumbled "as the time was midnight, technically it was this morning. Anyway, the Jack of Hearts of France and her cohorts took it, the House of Cards gives all its agents audio-video recording equipment for getting evidence. Makes it much easier to work with local law enforcement-" shooting a glance at Aaliyah he added "No offense meant."

 

Coughing politely into his free hand he leaned forward to better see her tablet, examining it with care. "Maybe something happened here a while ago, back in the War? Perhaps there is something you once fought over here?"

 

Turning suddenly to Detective Cooper he asked eagerly "Miss Cooper, are there any strange artifacts around Whitby?"

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  • 1 month later...

Above the English Channel


Agnus hated it when she got the mystical urging to be at a certain place at a certain time. Justice may be blind but it wouldn’t hurt to provide case note’s now and again. She didn’t have to hover above the channel long before a glowing humanoid figure came her way. There was one of those feeling that the two of them had met before, she suspected sometimes that the Spirit of Justice allowed her to remember her past to help deal with this little bump of in the collection of National Spirits.


<“Gallia I’d like to say it was a pleasure, but that would be a lie.â€>


Gallia came to a stop mere inches from Young Britannia’s face.


<â€So the real Briatnnia couldn’t be bothered to show up for me, I must say I’m disappointed.â€> she sneered


<â€Wow how original, I managed to stop you well enough in Paris all those years ago.â€> Agnes retorted with a smile


<â€So you were Constance, a remeber you from that cave in Rennes-Le-Chateau as well.â€>


Well that was something she hadn’t done yet show no surprise she soldier on.


<â€So what are you after?â€>


<â€I only wish revenge on Marianne who stole my domain from me, she is currently residing in your... sorry your sisters domain.â€>

In a one on one fight it could go either way and if Gallia got her hand’s on Marianne bad things could happen. She needed breathing room and allies, luckily that magical intuition was being useful for a change.

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The Little Angel, a while later


After a couple of pointless hour searching it seemed that the girl was nothing to be seen, it didn't help that a number of very similar women were flooding into the town for this weekend's celebrations. At least the wine was presentable and Detective Kapoor was good company.


It was just as they were starting to lose hope of finding the woman that Rene had met many, many, years ago no one could forget her very distinctive hair style. She was even wearing the same tartan mini skirt though her top was a rather appropriate Sister’s of Mercy tee. There was a small murmur from the bar at such a distinctive tall woman walking into the establishment and a few whispers and points as if she was someone famous. When she spotted the Rene a small look of pain crossed her face as if something bad had happened to them in the past.


Aaliya leaned in a whispered to two French heroes.


“That’s Agnus Stone she was a bit of a Pop Star a couple of years ago, though I thought the runner up was much better. The Director even has a file on her though I’m not sure quite why.â€


As she spoke Agnus spotted the three of them and walked over to them, tottering on rather tall high heeled boots.


“Hello there Rene it’s been a rather long time since we last met, though I looked very different back then. I need to speak to you about Gallia.â€

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Wandering around Whitby was a nice change of pace from skulking in back alleys or desperately trying to avert those horrible small disasters that happened in Freedom City, but for all that Marceau was glad to return to the English Pub. Very little annoyed him as much as a fruitless hunt, since growing up his parents had been very stern in imparting to their son the value of time. At least Det. Kapoor was an excellent hostess to the two foreigners.

 

Lounging against the bar and watching carbon-dioxide bubble up from his beer, the King of Suits considered what they did and did not know: they knew that Gallia had a new host and what she looked like, apparently Rene's premonition led here so something important had happened or been put here relating to either the old painter or the vengeful spirit. Or maybe something was going to happen. What they didn't know was if she had in fact changed to another body on reaching England, if this was in fact the last part of a longer journey and they were here too soon, or if they had drawn a false conclusion somewhere else down the line.

 

Taking another draught of the beer as a fresh wave of gloom hit him, the unmasked man glanced up sharply at the sound of a new arrival, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the young woman. He vaguely recalled somebody with that face and hair, but for the life of him he couldn't remember where from. Listening to Aaliyah he replied curtly "Maybe they want to keep an eye on anyone who can walk in those things, see to it they don't turn their uncanny gifts to evil" gesturing to her boots with a flick of his fingers. He turned back to his drink and raised it to his lips.

 

 

“Hello there Rene it’s been a rather long time since we last met, though I looked very different back then. I need to speak to you about Gallia.â€

"The more the merrier, mademoiselle Stone" Marceau said drily, making space for her "It seems this is one mystery everyone's in on..." he trailed off as he glanced at her feet again, then his eyes darkened and he glared down into his mug, growling "Why do women wear those things? Every month it seems I have to rescue someone in an alley who apparently forgot that the purpose of shoes is to make it easier to move about, not harder! What is the purpose, what is the point of those wretched high heels?!"

 

Looking back up he added to Agnus "No offense meant."

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Rene frowned and pushed his spectacles further onto his face as Agnus approached. 

 

"Who might you be, my de..." he started, before spluttering into his coffee. 

 

"Why! That face! It may have been over a century ago, but it is branded to my eyes! If I am not mistaken, you appeared to me with words from...wait.,,,"

 

He paused a moment, contemplating the conundrum. 

 

"Me!" he concluded, stabbing his chest with his finger. 

 

"But what a mystery! what a cold shiver runs down my spine. Delicious and fearful at once. Gallia has vexed me for years beyond mortal counting, like a sore that never heals. I remember the days of my youth, being twisted, turned and manipulated by her. I could ill afford any trust, although trust I gave, to a vision of myself from the future. Why, with my waxing years, that message must be delivered soon, no?" he asked Agnus. "Or...well, the complexities of time are beyond me. I understand these kwon-tom physicists can explain it all with a few sums and so on..." he rambled, dismissively. 

 

"I never quite understand why such marvels need to be distilled down to numbers. It so saps the wonder of it, no?" he said airily. He was almost rambling from shock. 

 

"But perhaps you could loosen the knot of mystery here, my dear....could you illuminate?"

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  • 2 weeks later...

“Oh I’m more capable of fighting in these thing’s than you’d expect.â€


Agnus gave a little smile that suggested she knew more than she was letting on.


“I’m afraid we’ve not done that yet, though Gallia mention meeting me in a cave in Renne-le-Chateau. I think after this we should open a couple of bottles of wine and compare notes. Last time we meet was in 1794 and I wore a very different face.â€


Aaylia seemed to perk up at that fact, she was putting together the pieces of the conversation to what was known about the two of them. Noticing Agnus gave a little smile.


“That was when I was Constance. She was working for the predecessor of your Department. We’ve got a long established history of connection with the MInistry.â€


She looked towards Marceau.

 

“I’m sorry we must sound like we’re talking in code.  I’m the human host of the Esprit de Justice me and Rene have a long and complicated history, much more complicated than I originally thought. We normally end up meeting up over Gallia.â€

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"Wine?" said Rene, a flash of a smile appearing. 

 

"In England???" he realised, his nose wrinkling in disgust. 

 

"Pardon me, Madame, but I will not debase myself with the filthy grape of this land. Non!" he said firmly, raising his finger in objection. "Whilst I cannot abide the drink, the British can only lay claim to beer. And so it is this inferior refreshment that shall insult my tongue!" he said, ordering said beverage with a grimace on his face. 

 

"So, Madame, forgive me for having my head spun yet again by two centuries of mystery. I feel at last the pieces fall into place, and with some relief, I should say. But the puzzle is yet without solution. The last piece is not in sight or in hand. I speak, of course, of Gallia. Where is she, and what tune does she play in this medley?"

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“You're missing out the joy’s of Cider but no I know you better than to foster none French wine on you. I thought we could meet up at that Bistro in Paris where we, well the Director and you, met up after the war. It’s still as charming a little place as it was back then.â€


The warm smile she had as she thought back to a happy memory faded and she was all business.


“Each National Spirit has it’s own unique gift and Gallia is no exception. Her’s is to call out to the passion in every Frenchman, and woman’s, blood. Either to stir their emotions, you remember that night as you sketched her likeness Rene? Or she bind them to her will.â€


She lent forward and put her hand’s in the table.

 

“Not the best if you’re relying on two Frenchmen to protect her enemy. So i had to make a little deal...â€

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"Aha!" said Rene, flexing his fingers into a gnarled fist - in and out - in and out - born from vexation. 

 

"So not even my passions are my own!" he concluded, slamming his palm onto the table. 

 

"She is the antithesis of liberty, is she not?" he cried. "Truly, I would free the world and the human heart from her influence. No matter how French she may be!"

 

"And yes, I do remember the boiling of my blood when I sketched her. I was young, and some things can be put down to the foolish roads of youth. But...there was always something enigmatic about that night. Something more passionate, and less. Like I was watching somebody else in action, looking upon myself. I have long ruminated on that night, without conclusion, until today!"

 

"Yes, I thank you! The story slots into place! I feel almost two hundred again!" he said, beaming with vitality. 

 

"But tell me of this deal? There are two sides to every barter..."

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"So she can sway the emotions of her compatriots? Ah, that would explain why I wanted so strongly to punch her in the face" Marceau commented blandly, taking a long swallow of his beer. Placing the mug on the bar he added over Rene's head "Forgive me, I do not doubt your word Mz. Stone, and it is so fantastical and preposterous on the face of it that I almost believe it entirely, but what my friend asks is also what I'm most curious about. Gallia seemed barely capable of not just lashing out at her foes, what deal did you make with that creature, and if I may be so bold, how?"

 

The younger man was much less discriminating in his taste for alcohol. Usually he didn't drink a drop(sobriety is useful when chasing people over rooftops or disarming bombs), but his travels had often brought him to corners of Europe where delicious drinks were made, and grateful people had offered some of it as a reward for his and Aloysius' help with whatever their problem was. As he sipped the beer again, he suddenly wished very much that he had chosen cider. Apples were always welcome.

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“Well you could say that all these National Spirit have a sort of code of hospitality. If you want to enter another’s domain you normally ask permission. It stop things getting messy.â€


She moved around the salt a pepper pots on the table as a way of illustrating things.


“Only humans can break the rules of domain, which is what happened with Marianne, and as Gallia is cut adrift from her own domain things get a little tricky.â€

 

In waving around the shaker she split a little salt which without thinking she threw over her shoulder.

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“So we’ve come up with a compromise. Gallia can’t interfere directly, but Beatrice and you will hunt for Marianne. Whoever finds her first get first dibs win the day. Things start from dawn tomorrow and lasts until the event is over, I think she guessing Marianne will go home after that anyway. So you have three day’s to find one Goth Girl at a gathering of Goth’s easy peasy right?†she gave a cheeky grin.

 

“I’m bound to the same rules at best I can act as pit crew at least until Gallia break the deal, I guessing you’ll be fine until Marianne get found.â€

 

She took a few gulps of her drink to allow all the information to shrink in.


“I can get you a room for the night either here or in London, one of the advantages of being a teleporter. My treat five star the works I wouldn’t want to tax the Ministry to much.†she smiled at her own joke

 

“I’m taking Aunt Lucy to that new Musical, it’s probably a little too lowbrow for an artist like yourself Rene but you’re welcome to join us.â€

Edited by TiffanyKorta
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"Well I will certainly not object to luxury" said Rene. "My kness are bent and broken, my back aches, my teeth are old, my eyes are week and feeble. A helpless old man like me needs certain luxuries at his time of life" he said, transiently convincing himself of this requirement. 

 

"And I have taste for London, if you would be so kind. As for the Musical, I am sure I can tolerate the British Asassination of culture for an hour or two, purely for social requirements. Although I will need a proper glass of wine and some earplugs" he insisted. 

 

"So let us be away to soft beds and fine wine!" he concluded. "There is not a moment to lose in this race! I must find a bed at once!"

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  • 4 weeks later...

Stifling a grin at Rene's now-familiar diatribes, Marceau nodded and rose to his feet "I'm with this old sack of misery, let's go." Taking a last drink of his beer, he wiped his lips immaculate and set the mug a discreet distance from the bartenders, nodding quickly and telling them with a smile "Thank you! Most excellent, I must come here again."

 

Turning to Detective Kapoor he offered his uncovered hand "Detective, thank you for your kind welcome, I wish you luck and God's favor in keeping things peaceful here. If ever you require assistance," he added courteously, "the House of Cards will be glad to help. Now then!" he swung to face Agnus again, eyes alight "I believe we were going somewhere?" Truth be told he would have been perfectly happy if Gallia had somehow showed up in Whitby, but the circumstances being what they were? He was just happy for the brief respite. Marceau felt it put the larger things in proper perspective.

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  • 1 month later...

Whitby

Friday, 25th April 2013 10:30 am


Agnus had been a little worried how Rene would get on with a modern libertine like Lucy Diamond, but Lucy had been on her best behaviour and was an almost perfect host. She wondered if he had know any of the original Libertine from Revolutionary France but the Marquis wasn’t something you could casually dropped into conversation.


Despite the late night and liberal flow of alcohol she had managed to wrangle the two French hero and delivered them to Whitby without to much effort. Where they were met by Aaliyah who was as immaculate as when they had left them.


“I have to go but if things get too serious with Gallia give me a call, I’ll give any assistance I can. And it was fun we must do this again sometime, without the whole threat from an ancient nation spirit.â€


And with a final burst of photons she was gone again leaving them alone with the Ministry Agent.

 

“So I’ve been given permission by the Ministry to give you as much help as I can, not that I doubt you’d waited for permission anyhow. So how do you want to start looking for this little lost goth?â€

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The party was...something special, the young Frenchman could tell. Lucy Diamond, someone whose name was once another term for 'walking hallucination', whose powers had lit up Liverpool and whose lifestyle had been the subject of endless speculation, ill-advised recreation and more than a little ill-guarded jealousy, had politely offered him the gravy on a shiny tray in a very normal dining room. If not for the jolts of unease that accompanied every risk of touching her he might have been chatting animatedly with any well-aged woman from the Twentieth Century. The wine had helped, certainly, and how at ease René was in any situation involving drinking lots of it. The musical was good too, he had no idea the English liked laughing so much, they had always seemed so...earnest when he met them. Possibly because normally he met then when they had little to feel happy about.

 

Waving a polite farewell to their hostess, the costumed detective turned to the Ministry agent.

 

"The place to start," Marceau said with great decisiveness despite his head feeling like the inside of a slate quarry "is where this convention is to take place. Unless I am wholly mistaken our qua-OW. Ow. Our...victim will be searching around the place at first, getting a feel for the area and where she can hide if she needs to evade us without much attention. I have no photographic memory, detective" he added with a grave look "and that picture quality was not splendid, so even if we look her in the face we may not see her, if you understand. Once there too we can ask around, she might have friends who can tell us if she seemed...odd. Or whatever they term it, not as they should be."

 

Turning to his partner he asked "Can you help us there, my friend? paint something or use your magic so we cannot fail to recognize that body-thief when we see her?"

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