ic Psichology [IC]

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Becker scoffed.  "You want to reason with him?  What, suggest that he goes vegan or voluntarily starves instead of eating chunks of peoples' brains?"  Sam never told Warne about his personal experiences in that field, which, under the circumstances, might be for the best.  This bitter figment would surely throw it in his face.

 

However, she soon stopped at a blank section of wall.  Bringing her hands together, then spreading them apart, the woman created a new small room with a glass front.  Inside were a few rows of SWAT-type gear, including weapons.  Becker seemed more immediately interested in the outfits; she stepped through and pulled a set of black pants and shirt from a hanger, followed by a tactical vest much like her own...and the mental defenders who hunted Sam earlier.  By the time she also chose a helmet, goggles, and full black mask, he might guess her plan.

 

"Get dressed, my pacifist friend.  You can do what you want with that demon once you get him out of here, but first we've got to catch him."

[Sophistemon]

"Warne wouldn't want him dead," retorted Sam. "So that's how we play it. You're an aspect of his mind, so you should know: when you're in Warne's brain, you play by his rules." He glanced askance at his wand. "So, uh, am I allowed to defend myself? Is there any chance of causing damage in here that would affect Warne in real life? I'd rather not... you know. Accidentally hit a wall and knock the guy into a coma. I'd never never on his good side if that happened."

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"Assuming that ship hasn't already sailed," his guide said rather cruelly.  She did, at least, have some good news: "I think you'll have to deliberately try to cause lasting damage in this place. Reyes and the Creature do battle all the time; I've even taken a few shots at it myself.  The soldiers who guard against outsiders like you and Baku should reincarnate too.  They're defense functions, not really a solid part of the mind.  Now, having said that, I don't want to go in guns blazing anyway.  This disguise should let you pass unnoticed, especially if you're with me.  We go in, join the other patrol, find Baku, capture him, and then run like hell to wherever that portal of yours ended up.  Reyes said it should be further down, so pray that it didn't just disappear entirely."

 

She tossed him the SWAT helmet and moved aside so Sam could access the rest of the gear she piled on the table.  "The patrols probably won't like that, but I should be able to get us clear once we blow our cover.  I don't see a better option here, not unless you want to let Warne's mental defenses just kill that little pest.  If they can."

[Sophistemon]

Samuel looked over the clothes, then closed his eyes for a moment and concentrated. When he opened them again, his impeccable suit had transformed itself to resembled the SWAT uniform's undersuit. With that done, he donned the tactical vest, knit mask, helmet, and goggles. By the time he was finished he was indistinguishable from any of the pursuing agents. "I feel like an extra in an action movie," he grumbled, his voice muffled by the fabric of the mask. He went to the selection of armaments and selected a rifle, if only to complete the disguise. Truth be told, he hadn't the slightest idea of how to fire the thing. For a previously hardened super-criminal, he was remarkably sheltered.

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His unfamiliar fumbling with the gun wasn't lost on Becker.  "...Maybe just keep the safety on, and don't point it at me," she suggested dryly.  "I might be more or less immortal here, but let's not go around running field tests."

 

She led the way back down the hall.  Soon they found a short set of stairs that only went one floor up, to where they had heard the footsteps.  Before going through the door at the top, Becker asked, "When we find Baku, can you catch and hold him?  Like you did in Bailey's basement?  Only this time, with a little less...enthusiasm?  He doesn't seem to be intangible here, like he is in the outside world, but he can still clearly change his shape.  Do you have a way to contain him so that he can't just turn into a worm or something and slip right through your fingers?"

[Sophistemon]

The magician paused, thinking. "I have a spell that can entangle the target in elemental energy," he mused. "If I used ice, I might be able to trap him in a block of the stuff, if only so that he can be subdued and taken out of here before he can do any real damage to Warne's mind." He nodded. "Yes, I think that might work. Ice. Nice, non-lethal, non-explosive ice." The former villain made a silent promise to keep his anger in check this time, and to handle things the way a hero would. Whether or not the day would play out that way remained to be seen, but at least he was willing to try.

Edited December 11, 2016 by Sophistemon

[Blarghy]

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Becker nodded, accepting this.  "Very well.  I'll cross my fingers; we're about to need all the luck we can get."  She put her hand on the doorknob and added, "The guards shouldn't pay you much attention.  Try to stay more or less in character anyway, just in case.  I wouldn't try making small talk with them either, but that shouldn't arouse actual suspicion.  Hopefully, they'll only care when you use your magic to trap the dream-demon.  And then they'll definitely notice, and we'll both just have to run or fight our way out.  So, be ready."

 

She opened the door and went through.  Beyond was a fairly ordinary scene with some decidedly unusual elements: the large room looked like a regular office space, divided by cubicles.  If he was keen, Sam would spot business cards at some of the stations; this wasn't part of the AEGIS headquarters back at the Federal Building, but rather for the FBI.  However, instead of the typical staff or even full agents he might expect, the room's only life--or rather, only movement--was the well-armed mental defenders.  They stalked around in eerie silence, performing a thorough, if unimaginative, search. 

[Sophistemon]

"They're like robots," he murmured, and then looked over at Becker. "They're how Warne's mind keeps itself in order?" He shook his head. "Efficient, but... cold. I guess I shouldn't expect any different." He cleared his throat and strode forward, attempting as best he could to mimic the posture of the mental guardians. He nodded to one of them, but didn't smile. He kept his face placid, unemotional -- like a mask, cold and lifeless on his skull.

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Becker merely nodded in response.  In light of the SWAT gear, Sam didn't have to worry too much about his expression, but it certainly couldn't hurt.  Whether due to his costume or skillful acting, none of the real guards paid him much attention.  The most of a reaction he received was to have his patrol route included in their own; they gave him space as he investigated his chosen route around the room.

 

Approaching the nearest cubicle provoked an odd development: memory-ghosts came to life around Presto.  They looked like standard FBI agents, most of them standing, crowded loosely around a man sitting at his desk in front of a small cake.  The agents sang "Happy Birthday," looking for the most part fairly cheerful.  Except, of course, for Warne; he hung back, appeared impatient at this interruption to his work, and plainly only waited for the social obligation to run its course. 

 

He seemed to have a bubble of empty distance around him.  When the crowd dispersed, no one came too close; they no longer showed the same fear that Sam had seen from Warne's childhood, but even without realizing it, everyone gave the psychic ample personal space.  It was just a part of him now, his own aura of solitude as impenetrable as his telekinesis. 

[Sophistemon]

Sam watched the memory with a feeling of deep regret building in his stomach. He didn't dare engage Becker in conversation, not with the guards around, but he noted the event for later. He did take a minor detour, searching the room alongside the other guards in the hopes of jogging another memory loose. He knew, though he wished he didn't, that redeeming himself to Adept wasn't going to happen any time soon, if ever. But maybe, if he could learn more about the man, he could use that knowledge to... help ease things along. It was snooping, a terrible breach of privacy, but Sam hadn't ever met a man like Warne before, and his curiosity consumed him now as it had when he'd broken into forbidden Oriental libraries in search of ancient moth-gnawed texts. The knowledge was dangerous, and best left undisturbed... but he wanted it anyway.

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Becker looked at Sam silently, her eyes dark and cold, but she didn't stop him in his search.

 

He didn't have to wait long; at the next desk he passed, a spectral woman appeared in the rolling chair.  Her name-tag read E. Gill, and she smiled and touched her curly black hair when another figure passed through Sam, walking past the cubicle. 

 

"Oh, Warne!" she stopped him.  "Agent--ah, James.  I thought you were still recovering; we heard about your last mission.  Congratulations, by the way!"

 

Presto the people-person could read a lot from her tone, her posture, and the subtle intricacies of her smile.  Warne--one arm in a sling and a bandage across the bridge of his nose--either couldn't, or chose to ignore it.  He remained as stiff and distant as ever, pausing only reluctantly. 

 

"Thank you," he replied, somber. 

 

Agent Gill seemed to wait, her expression growing a bit brittle in the silence.  "...Lots of rumors going around about what actually happened," she ventured.  "Have to say, I'm curious.  And, ahh, I've got some free time later, if you want to tell me.  Maybe in exchange for a few drinks?  My treat?"

 

"Most of the details of my assignment are classified," he told her, with all the social awareness of a brick.  "As you should well know."

 

"Y--well, yes.  Of course.  That's fine.  Maybe instead we--"

 

"Warne!" someone called from across the office.  He looked away, and without turning back, said as he started walking again: "I should go.  Have a nice day, Agent Gill." 

 

The memory faded abruptly.  Whatever her parting expression was, Sam wouldn't see it, as Warne apparently didn't himself. 

[Sophistemon]

Presto watched the exchange with an increasingly heavy heart. His lips pressed to a thin line, he made his way slowly back to Becker and inclined his head towards the exit on the far side of the room. "Let's go," he said, because it was the only thing he could say. Warne's loneliness weighed on him like a mountain, and Samuel found himself thinking that he would have given nearly anything to have a woman look at him the way E. Gill had looked at Warne just then, before he'd -- knowingly or not -- broken her heart. Humans are a social species, and companionship is as essential to a happy life as water is to a long one. Did Warne have friends, or merely a long list of associates, fellow 'good-guys' that he could rely on, but never truly trust?

 

Best to not think about it.

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Although she wasn't ready to write off this part of the mind just yet, Becker did rejoin Sam.  Once they had some distance from the other mental constructs, she spoke while she searched under a desk.

 

"...I figured out why Baku isn't using his hat," she began a wholly different conversation.  Her voice had a sullen tint to it; she likely knew what was on Sam's mind, and wasn't in a hurry to discuss it. 

 

"The magic in it broadcasts constantly.  He apparently realized that the guards were using it to track him, so he ditched it.  At least he's bound to be visible now, so that's something.  I suspect he knows that changing his shape also alerts our systems.  Since he doesn't seem to be intangible in this world, given the dream-ness of it, that limits or removes his three key abilities.  The little bastard might not be easy to find, but he's definitely playing under a handicap." 

[Sophistemon]

The magician nodded; it made sense, and Baku was old and wise enough to discern that the mental guardians were attracted to anything that didn't belong, magic included. So, he was visible and he was vulnerable... which meant he was desperate. He recalled, with a bit of nausea, just how easy Baku was to hurt without his defenses. The fire, the fall... best to not think about that, either. To be honest, Samuel was moderately disgusted with how he'd won that fight. The grandstanding, the old gloating monologue. He'd been fighting a villain, but his attitude wasn't heroic. "When we beat Baku the first time," he said aloud, addressing Becker. "I hurt the little creep. With a fireball. I'd used a spell, drew power from inside me, to hurt him despite his intangibility. What did Warne think about that? Not just that he got away, but hurt him?"

[Blarghy]

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As she led him into the next hall and to a nearby break room, Becker's smile was positively sinister.  "Oh, that was fun; I remember it.  Letting the target escape was a shame, but at least you did it with style.  Warne may've considered it unprofessional, but he definitely won't shed any tears.  The monster preys on humanity.  Warne, even if he doesn't have the stomach for ending threats permanently, is still a defender of our people.  He knows that Baku deserved much worse."

 

Almost as though in response to this, there came a tiny rattle from one of the cabinets above the sink, on the far side of the room opposite to the door.  Becker's eyes narrowed, and she placed her hand on her pistol.  She glanced behind them; the nearest patrol guards were still in the offices, leaving the two of them, for the moment, alone.  Or judging by the sound, perhaps not.

[Sophistemon]

When Sam saw Becker stop, he halted in his steps and watched, nervously, as she gently palmed her sidearm. Unsure of what to do, he flicked his eyes back and forth across the room, searching for signs of trouble. Ostensibly, he hadn't heard the rattle, though Becker's body-language soon instructed him on where to look. His own eyes narrowed; a mind as ordered and well-maintained as Warne's wouldn't have any rodents in residence, which meant the sound could have come from only one rational source. The magician conjured his wand, gripped towards the tip, with the remainder hidden within his sleeve -- a magician's sleeve, as we all know, can contain much more than it appears. He gave the woman mental construct a questioning look that said, in clear but unspoken terms, "What do we do now?"

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After leaning around for another look back at the offices, Becker leaned in close to whisper to her partner of convenience.  "Ok," she began, "if you're really set on taking this thing alive, then we'll use your ice idea.  Get ready; I'm going to open the cabinet doors for you, then you hit Baku, and I'll grab him and we run.  The guards will come after us, but that was always inevitable.  We'll hurry to the next stairwell down; it isn't far.  I'll hold them off there, while you go down to the core.  I wasn't going to be able to lead you the whole way anyway; just like Reyes, I'm stuck here in my corner of the mind.  If that portal of yours is really at the center, then you'll have to reach it on your own.  I'll give you what few tips I can when we get to the stairs.  We need to hurry, though; the others are bound to come search here eventually.  They won't leave a whole room untouched, even if they think we went through it ourselves." 

 

She stepped toward the raised cabinets and stopped with one hand lifted, looking back to Presto for his signal. 

[Sophistemon]

The magician nodded, brown eyes clouding over until they resembled burnished silver. He let the wand slip from his sleeve and into his hand. He took it in a familiar grip, and felt power flow through him. He sometimes hated his dependency on the wand, sometimes loved it -- it was such an iconic image of magic that he might have used one even if he didn't need to. "Okay," he said. "Okay, I think I'm ready." He called to mind the spell he'd need, to conjure up the ice and cold and direct it in chain-link bands to ensnare his adversary. At the same time, he felt guilty. If he hadn't defeated the little monster so thoroughly last time, if he had left him with some dignity to salve the sting of loss... too late for that now. He would be quick, clean, and merciful in his victory this time. He wouldn't fly off the handle again. And when everything was over, perhaps he could convince the dreamweaver that there was value in a truce.

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Presto had a little time with his thoughts while Becker snuck up on the cabinets.  She unhooked the safety clip on her holster, but didn't yet draw the pistol; a final look back toward the main offices implied that she wasn't preparing it for Baku anyway.  She put one hand on the door handle, held the other toward Sam, and counted down with her fingers.  When the last one curled down, she threw open the door and jumped out of the way.

 

Which saved her from the tower of perilously-stacked plates on the other side.  They had apparently been leaning against the door, and now spilled out and shattered across the tile floor.  Becker watched, surprised, and then turned her eyes rapidly from Sam to the cabinets in confusion.

 

It was at this point that the door at the other end of the row flung aside, and a long-limbed spider monkey raced out.  As soon as it hit the ground, it spared Presto a quick, smug glance before sprinting nimbly toward the door. 

Edited January 9, 2017 by Blarghy

[Sophistemon]

"Oh," sighed the magician. And then, more loudly: "Oh, you little bastard. Baku!" He hissed the last word, hoping to stall the creature's escape. "Baku, wait! We've got to get out of here!" He pointed his wand at the fleeing monkey and spoke a word of power, conjuring the icy winds and freezing cold of Ithaqua and throwing that elemental force at the creepy little beast with all the force of a mid-winter storm. If it hit, the dreamweaver would be incased in an icy crystal, immobile and infinitely less dangerous.

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"No, Presto--I'm getting out of here!"  He skillfully avoided the magical blast, which coated the tiles with a layer of slick frost, and dashed past his enemy toward the office area.  "You can stay--forever, if you like!  Right until this horrible little world crumbles down around you!" 

 

Becker gave chase, Sam likely just ahead of her.  She drew her gun now; as she predicted, the guards behind them had immediately turned their way when Sam cast his spell.  Their own weapons were coming up to their shoulders, but one of the mindless soldiers fell when Becker put a bullet through the helmet's dark visor.  The figure turned to smoke before it hit the ground. 

 

Baku, meanwhile, jumped behind a cubicle wall and was, for the moment, out of sight.  Becker threw herself against Sam to bring them both to the floor just in time to avoid a wave of automatic gunfire. 

 

"It seems we have a problem!" she shouted over the noise. 

[Sophistemon]

The breath was knocked out of the magician's lungs twice in the span of three seconds. Becker crashing into him caused the first, his crashing into the ground caused the second. So frustrated was Presto that he couldn't help himself, and a bitter quip slipped from his mouth before he could muster the will to censor. "You know," he growled. "I'm really starting to dislike that guy." He slid himself behind a cubicle of his own and motioned for Becker to follow him into momentary safety. That done, he reached his wand up over the cubical wall and launched another burst of freezing cold at the silent sentinels. Imaginary or not, he didn't want to risk causing any harm -- permanent harm, anyway -- to Warne's subconscious. So far as Sam was concerned, the other man was damaged enough. "What now?" he shouted. "He's getting away!"

[Blarghy]

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"Yeah, I noticed!" Becker shouted back. 

 

Even under the hectic circumstances, this time Sam's aim was a little better.  He encased both of a soldier's arms, and the gun they held, in ice.  The construct kept trying to fire, without success, until at last it turned and started banging the frozen weapon against the wall of a cubicle.  None of the others paid attention or offered assistance.  They did begin to spread out, however, and the two furthest from Presto and his guide seemed to be focusing instead on locating Baku. 

 

"If you want him alive, then we need to act fast," Becker agreed.  She peeked around the corner, then pointed: "That's the only door he can use, and he probably knows it.  The hallway beyond it will take him to the stairs; it's the way I was going to show you, if this went a little better.  Every other exit is either a dead end, or only goes to other parts of this level.  Whether we get Baku or not, whether he realizes that he needs our help or not, that's where you've got to go too."

 

Unfortunately, the office had a lot of open space to cross, and even the thin walls they hid behind didn't so much offer protection as concealment from clear aim.  "Can you make us some better cover?" she asked.  "Or, just, I don't know, move some of these barriers to make more hiding spaces?  If we can just get into the next hallway and control it as a choke point, then I can hold them off while you run--either after Baku, or with him chasing you, if he's got half a brain!"

[Sophistemon]

Spells whirled through Presto's mind, pried by force from ancient tombs and scrawled carved into the dusty walls of dark and forbidden temples. There were so many options he could choose from, from the simplest -- simply teleporting to the door, and leaving Becker to fend them off -- to the more elaborate. He shook his head. She may not be real, in a physical sense, but as a magician Samuel knew that physicality wasn't the only way to gauge that sort of thing. Just because you cannot see a thing does not mean it doesn't exist, after all. He couldn't just leave her, not after she'd bothered to help him. And besides which, what kind of a hero leaves a damsel (even one so capable as Becker) in distress? And so, with a flourish of his wand, Presto the Preposterous conjured up a shimmering wall of opalescent metal that barred that barreled through the cubicles, knocking through them and providing additional and relocatable cover. "There," he said. "Will that work?"

Edited January 21, 2017 by Sophistemon

[Blarghy]

GM

 

Apparently so, given that her response was to shout, "Go, go, go!" and to follow her own advice, lunging up from the floor and running alongside the wall. 

 

As did Baku--no sooner had the enchanted wall taken shape than he emerged from hiding, climbing over the side of a now-busted cubicle and using Presto's own spell for his own advantage.  Becker shouted wordlessly when she saw him, but didn't try to shoot the little monkey.  Before their eyes, in a shimmer of magic, he reformed into a lean, black and white dog, probably a rat terrier.  Sam had some other concerns as well: he couldn't see clearly through his prismatic barrier to be sure, but after the guards failed to accomplish anything with another volley of bullets, they seemed to be splitting up and running in different directions.  Very likely, they were looking for alternative paths to the other side of the room, or the hallway beyond. 

 

And beneath his feet, Presto could also feel a vague tremor, along with a thin, metallic whine, as though something in the floor was bending.