[Eiru, Pyracan] Displaced Demonstration – Aftarmath

[Razorback]

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Lyddmull Eiru, Pyracan 03:07 PM
In Character Eastern Settlement 05 September 2650
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The area on the eastern edge the Outverser settlement is set on a black, rocky outcropping, perhaps ten feet above the briny teal rustle of the waves. The rock has been flattened and carved into the transportation hub of the settlement, with broad, sturdy plascrete paths angling uphill towards the landing pad and downhill towards the docks. A fused sand path leads west towards downtown.
The slowly-disappearing remnants of a protest are slowly being cleaned away here. A nearby roof has been covered with a tarp, and a few posted notices direct people to report any further protests or other strange activity to the police station.
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Contents:
Paramedic Alhambra <RP> Maxwell <RP>

Exits:
<HO> Hospital <AR> Architect
<WH> Warehouse <UD> Utility District
<LP> Landing Pad <DO> Docks
<DT> Downtown

Alhambra is at the site of last night’s inexplicable protest, sifting through a bin full of charred bits of wood and other things, handing them over to a couple of people in “Forensics” jumpsuits. A couple of reporters are nearby, but they appear to be talking more to each other than bothering the law enforcement. A group of local volunteers is stacking shingles near the damaged building.

Maxwell comes wandering in from the somewhere. Probably the farm from the look of things. It’s a slow wander, though. Lots of unpleasantness to see and slow one down. Still, it’s a wander in Al’s direction.

The Seamel has been hard at work, assisting in repair efforts. He is joined by Flamesprite, and while he does not have his complete arsenal with him, both he and his steed are in full armor, just in case. He is currently engaged in righting a wall that fell down, he and Flamesprite pullling it upright while others fasten it into place.

“Um, burned up wooden thinger number twenty eight,” Al drawls, dropping another chunk of something into a bag being held by one of the forensics techs, who puts a label on it, seals it, and hands it over to the other tech who fills in the label, signs it, and puts it on a cart. “…I am sick to shit of pyrokewhatsis. I mean seriously, use a match or a lighter like everybody else, right?” There is some tired, polite chuckling. “Howdy, Max. Sorry about the… y’know. Bullshit.” She looks at her watch. “…for shit’s sake, we been at this all day. Can’t people put up a fuss without making a mess?” It is just about then that somebody brings over a holoprojector, playing the news report about the -other-, seemingly simultaneous protests. Al falls quiet, takes off her hat, and puts it over her heart. A few of the surrounding officers follow suit.

Maxwell has no hat to take off, but looks suitably saddened by it all. “Be nice to think that jumping a century would’ve put me in a time this sort of thing didn’t happen…”

The Baron finishes his task and unharnesses Flamesprite from the wall. He leads the horse over to near the others with a frown. “I had heard about this from a friend on Earth,” he says quietly, then nods to Maxwell, “No time is safe from those who would harm others to suit their own interests.” He turns to Alhambra, waiting for her to finish paying her respects before speaking to her. “Have you spoken to any of our miscreants?” he asks.

Alhambra adjusts her hat, and utters one of her tired, rumbly chuffs. “Ain’t nobody coherent enough to talk to, yet. The last one we let wake up was screaming about torture and they ain’t giving us any information blardeblar, so they’re back on the drugs. Docs say the heart rates and shit are as legitimately bad as folks -actually- under real life threatening strain, so… well we can’t risk somebody havin’ a damn coronary.” Another sigh. A tiny drone, looking for all the world like a metal firefly with a lot of extra wings, goes buzzing by. “Sorry, Max. It is a tragedy and a disappointment to us all, honestly. At least nobody here died, thank goodness.”

Maxwell nods “Well, that’s something at least.” Sigh.

“Perhaps when there is time,” Lyddmull says with a nod, “We should look in on them with a psionic and see if we can break someone out of it. As to the lack of deaths, I think it is in part due to the willingness of the citizenry to step in and act rather than wait for someone else to do it.” His gaze follows the drone with an expression of distaste.

Alhambra rubs the back of her head, wincing and sighing. “I know, I know, nobody likes havin’ to watch everybody, but until somebody catches the culprit we -can’t- let a bigger one happen… I mean whut if this was just some kind of test to see how hard somebody could control somebody else? Next thing we know it’s like a bunch of folks on rooftops ready to jump off or someshit?

“Sheriff?” It is a youngish Hekayti male, bearing the coltish awkwardness of a teenager. He is carrying a datapad, clutched to his chest. “You said… you said if we had -any- ideas, you’d want them, yes?”

Al nods, solemnly. “That is indeed whut I said, hon, so why don’t you go on and speak up.”

“Well… um, what if that person who wrecked the Bazaar was like, a powerful psionic race disguisting itself as a human youth to rely on the… defensive advantage that humans are hesitant to attack their own young? And um, now it’s… you know, experimenting more?”

Al gives the youth a long, scrutinizing look, as though waiting for the camera or the punchline or anything. “Welp,” she finally says, “Son, I did -ask- for every idea, I grant you, and y’know, I do not think that’s gonna be anywhere near the weirdest thing I’ma hear whilst we are trying to solve this thing.” She pulls a card out of her coat and scribbles something on it. “You take that down to the station and have the front desk give you a form to fill out so you can talk to the Psionics Task Force, okay?”

“Oh! Yes ma’am!” He says, and scampers off.

Maxwell blinks a couple times as the young hek scampers off. “This is all very strange…”

The Seamel watches the exchange before turning to Alhambra with a sigh. “And this is why I tend to abhor magic, in all its forms,” he says with a grimace, “It makes things far to complicated.”

“Max, last night I was wrestling a giant alien with glowing red eyes trying to choke the life out of me with the power of his brain, and there’s a fair to middling chance in which he was doing it not just because he was an asshole, but because he thought I was a fucking Napoleon lizard, there ain’t NOTHING too strange,” Al drawls, shaking her head. After handing over another sample, she announced that is is in fact break time, and ambles over to a bench, which despite being slightly charred has been spiffed up to the best of the recovery team’s abilities. “I’ma have to agree with you whole heartedly, m’lord. I have not so far been a fan of psychic whatsamajiggers, and there are very few exceptions to that rule. I have to admit, though, psionic shenanigans is way more palatable than say, mass insanities and killer high school students.”

Maxwell rubs the bridge of his nose “And you’re sure we haven’t wandered into one of the less popular afterlifes?”

“Well,” Lyddmull replies, doing his best to smile, “You know I am at your disposal, my Lady, in whatever fashion I can aid you.” He glances over at Maxwell now, his smile broadening somewhat. “I thought that the case long after my arrival,” he says, “But people can be harmed here, even killed. If this is some sort of afterlife, we must do what we can to better it.”
Alhambra rummages up another cigarette, looking shameful as she lights it up. “Yep, generally you don’t -die- in the afterlife, just sayin’. Unless it’s like, just one after the other like the crappest layer cake ever.”

Maxwell smirks “I’m not sure we can’t rule that out… I don’t *think* it’s the csae… and even if it was, can’t see how it could be proved, so why worry about it? Interesting to think about though.”

“And there were some that I knew in my world who thought it possible that our lives were merely the imaginings of horrifying beings in some strange joint mind, but it matters little, does it?” Lyddmull asks with a grin, “We have but this life to live, and thus we must live it.”

Alhambra peers at Max. “Glowing eyes,” she says, gesturing appropriately at her face. “Tryin’ to squeeze me to death. Seriously. Like, squeeze me like a loaf of cheapass white bread, man. This ain’t science theorem, this is current events, an’ if it -was- an afterlife, how d’you explain the people on Earth who think you guys died? That’s like a… I don’t know, a… recursin’ fallac-something. It’s disprovin’ itself. I don’t know, stop making me -think-.” Chuff.

Maxwell chuckles “I’ll have to get back to you on it. But trying to figure out impossible things is an old hobby. I don’t envy you having to deal with that sort of thing, though. The worst I could’ve expected on the Clatsop was a catastophic failure that resulted in everyone aging about eighty years in a few minutes. In which case we’d all have died before we had time to worry.”

The armored knight moves around behind the sheriff to gently rub her shoulders, taking his gauntlets of first, of course. “We will find the answers, my Lady,” he says, as soothingly as he can, “And make certain that those who perpetrated this never do it again.”

Alhambra squints at Maxwell for a long, long moment, like a rather large dog who’s just heard a whole bunch of words and is vaguely aware that one of more of them may have meant either ‘vet’ or ‘bath’, can’t be sure, but -definitely- knows there’s something horrible lurking in that particular conversation. “Uh.” She is saved from further elaboration by the timely rescue of the Baron of Shoulderrubbington. “…oooookaaaay…” She mumbles, trailing off in a happy sigh as her head droops forward. “Yeah you can keep doin that like, all day.” After some more incoherent mumbling, she seems to have some kind of idea, sadly unrelated. “…so um, how you and Nya doin’ anyways? Did you find anythin’ about her missin’ brother? I put out his description, and I got negatives from most of the other islands. Mesomel ain’t sure, because he kinda fits the description of almost every human surfer tourist they -have-, but so far nobody’s gone to security talkin’ about being lost or rifted.”

Maxwell sighs a bit “Eh, we’re doing alright. As well as can be expected, anyway. No word on Davi yet, so she’s been pretty down. Not a lot I can do about that…”

The Seamel doesn’t cease his ministrations. He isn’t spectacularly skilled, but he does it gently enough not to cause any damage. “Finding those who have been rifted in can be difficult,” he throws in, “Especially at first. It takes many quite some time to acclimate themselves enough to establish a life.”

“Yeah, and nobody’s been found -dead- matching that description, not even any of the… y’know, random bits, so there’s that,” Al presses on, between appreciative little grunts and rumbles. “I mean like, super easy with all the science, cause Missy Nya’s his twin. It’s just all, y’know, database and shit. AND… and, since like, his gear wasn’t all chewed up, he probably didn’t get ate.”

Maxwell nods “I don’t think he liked me very much, but I’d still rather he not have been chewed up on the way.”

The Seamel falls silent now, pensive. He concentrates on the task at hand as best he can what with all of the recent damage about.

Alhambra exhales some smoke down her shirt, reluctant apparently to breathe it at her fellow conversants. “So yeah, I don’t think he got ate. Evidence speaks to the contrary. So, and again I can’t say this enough, I ain’t rushin’ to get you out, but did you guys look at any of the rentals on the list I gave you?”

Maxwell nods “Well, I did. Nya wasn’t really up for house hunting at the time… but that white house, kinda small? I rather like that one. I think she’ll enjoy it when her spirits are up enough to give it a once over.”
“Is that the one between the Bazaar and the beach?” Lyddmull asks curiously, “It had belonged to Mistress Tidewater for a time. I had wondered who was living there now.”

“I don’t -remember- the name of the person who owned it, but it was like, some botany lady so I figured maybe it’d have a good set up for Missy Nya, and since we ain’t got an Agricultural Consultant no more I figured she could take over if’n she was so inclined,” Al muses, furrowing her brow as she tries to recall and does not. After a moment or so, she shrugs. “Tidewater does not sound familiar. I dunno. Man, I hope we can do somethin’ to make her happy… it’s real sad, seein’ somebody else sad. I mean I’d go find her brother if I could, honestly, but we’re fulla weird shit right now.”

Maxwell nods “Oh, I don’t think she’d hold it against you… and as many folks from those days as we’ve run across? I won’t be terribly surprised if we just bump into him while getting groceries some morning… er, evening. He didn’t really strike me as a morning person.”

“You do not really strike me as a morning person either, Master Cooke,” Lyddmull jabs with a playful grin, “It is all relative.”

Alhambra laughs heartily. “Hey, I ain’t a morning person, neither. It’s all, bright and shiny and the bed is all super comfortable like you wanna stay in it, and then it’s just all fog and grumbling and where’s my dang coffee.”
Maxwell smirks “I think in his case it’s more just an issue of there being fewer ladies to chase in the morning cause they’re all still asleep.”

“He sounds … delightful,” Lyddmull says, though his heart is clearly not in it. To Alhambra he grins a bit more genuinely, “There was no coffee in my world. We had to make do without it.”

“He sounds like a real manho,” Al says, unabashedly. She pauses and tilts her head back so she can look at Lyddmull. “…seriously? No coffee at all? Did you at least have tea?”

Maxwell chuckles “Well, when we were in the library looking at those videos? The one we found for his service? Welll… there was quite a cluster of ladies who were either toting small kids or getting ready to. So I dare say you’re correct.”

“Of course we had tea,” Lyddmull says with a chuckle, “Do not be absurd.” He then looks over at Maxwell, his nostrils flaring in disgust. “That is … efficient, I suppose,” he says after a moment’s consideration.

“And that there is a cluster of ladies practicing whut is officially entitled ‘abusive reproductive control,’ whereupon one person purposefully neglects or sabotages birth control in an attempt to extort or entrap their partner. Now there’s a practice that rightly needs eradicating,” Alhambra drawls also looking disgusted. “Not that the man ain’t responsible, but seriously, there have been more advances in reproductive safety than there are hairs on my freakin’ head. Pick one and use it. Fer shit’s sake.”

Maxwell nods “Yeahh… the worlds could do without that kinda behavior.”

“Not having been present for the particulars,” Lyddmull says with a grimace, “I think I will refrain from judgement on the motivation of the impregnated females.”

Alhambra grunts quietly. “If the motivation wasn’t to bring a child into a happy family to be raised with love and showered with affection and good learnin’, I, on the other hand, will judge them up and down the street. I seen ’em arguin’ on that tape. Lost me a couple of whut would have been decent fellers to that trick, and I think whut gets me most is that… they don’t seem to be thinkin’ about the kids, y’know? All they thinkin’ about is, ‘if I get a baby in my belly, that’ll prove that he loves me best,’ when all it really proves is that they din’t take their pill or poked a hole in a rubber. An’ now there’s a kid who either has no daddy, or a daddy who looks at them and sees a shackle on a chain and a mommy who looks at them like the other end of that chain. Kinda life is that? So the guys ain’t right but the girls ain’t right neither.”

Maxwell shakes his head “Never understood the desire to have a relationship like that… what’s the point? Nobody involved is going to be happy for long.”

“This is all very valid,” Lyddmull admits with a nod, “But I do not know what words were exchanged between the two …. ‘lovers’ for lack of a better word, that led to the cessation of … contraception. One or two, perhaps I could accept. But to see so many…” He sighs, shaking his head. “Truly, it is not my place to judge the man and I do admit to having what many would consider an archaic mindset on the matter, but …”

Alhambra reaches up to offer Lyddmull a pat. “He’s a man-ho, don’t feel bad about thinkin’ it. The words were probably either ‘but it doesn’t feel right with a condom on’ or ‘don’t worry I’m on the Pill’. Or no words at all and a lack of thinkin’. But yeah. Somebody weren’t wrappin’ that rascal. Nothin’ archaic about thinking that folks shouldn’t be irresponsible. It’s like I said, gotta think about the kids that come outta this behavior.” She nods at Maxwell. “I don’t figure a relationship, let alone a family, built on control an’ deception is gonna… be good fer anybody involved, honestly.”

Maxwell nods “And yet it keeps happening. Century after century… are we at least free from televangelists yet?”

“Yes,” Lyddmull says, a faintly wry smile coming to his face, “What are these horrifying creatures? They sound very far from the typical way of thinking indeed.”

“The idiots on the tee-vee yelling about assorted gods and salvation and damnation and askin’ for money,” Al explains to Lyddmull with a shake of her head, and then peers at his facial expression. “…which I think you have most likely seen already and are just making a funny, ain’t you?”

Maxwell nods “Ahh, the scourge continues. I suppose a century would be too short a time for that sort of lunacy to die off. And if they didn’t cause so many sick people to just send money and make a few wishes rather than seeking out some genuine medical help… I’d probably find em funny. But not after some of the stuff they pull.”

“No, actually,” Lyddmull replies with a chuckle, “I was just thinking of our conversation the other day.” He pauses, considering the matter. “You know, it does not seem to me that these men are ignorant at all. Simply deceptive and selfish. If they truly believe that which they spoke of, I find it difficult to believe that they would pursue such an evil vocation.”

Alhambra raises a finger. “That… along with any other practice of fraudulent unlicensed non-healin’, is -illegal- here on Eiru, just so’s you know, Mister Maxwell, so at least you don’t got to worry about that. Had to run an Auk out of town for shilling ‘psionic therapies’ without a license or any proof of effi-cacy at all.” With a somewhat sad chuckle, she uses her raised finger to tap the side of her nose. “Got it in one, m’lord. If these folks would work at doin -work- as hard as they do at deceivin’ and theivin’, they’d probably end up rich anyways.”

Maxwell nods “Good to know there aren’t any local. But really, if they turned their few talents to more or less honest work, what options would they have? Politicians? Used car salesman?”

“There are honest ways of succeeding in those professions,” Lyddmull says with a faint chuckle, “Though few choose it. In truth, the path of the Shadow is always the easier one. And it is always easier to attempt to force people to see things your way than it is to reason with them.”

“I like smackin’ em,” Al says, quasi-seriously. “It -is- easier than tryin’ to use reason. At least when reasonin’ fails, anyways, and you’d be surprised at how often folks don’t want to hear ‘it hurts other people’ as a reason to stop doing stuff they like. But if you say, ‘don’t do that or I will slap you in the mouth,’ THAT one works.”

Maxwell smirks “It does have a way of bypassing a lot of the flimsier arguments.”

“Well, that sounds like a perfectly sound logical argument to me,” Lyddmull says with a grin, “And one that I have used on occasion myself. Though I prefer not to use it when dealing with someone who’s actions do not physically injure anyone, nor take their possessions. I do not believe force to be a viable option otherwise.”

Alhambra nods. “Yeah, it’s real, real simple. Does this course of action cause unnecessary harm to a person, place, or thing? If the answer is ‘yes’, then don’t do it. If the answer is ‘no’, go on ahead. It’s just some folks is so full of themselves that they think ‘necessary’ can mean stuff like ‘because I want’. There’s a big fat ol’ line between whut folks -want- and whut they -need-. We need to raise animals and plans for food, because that’s whut we need to eat. We need to build homes because we need shelter. We -want- things like teevees and fancy clothes and significant others. These are not things we can cause harm to have. Gotta earn that. If you want a fancy car, you save up the money and earn it. If you want somebody to live with you, you work to find the person who also wants to live with you back and you build a life. If you want to be rich, fuckin’ do the work.”

Maxwell nods “Bout the size of it, alright.”

“It all sounds good to me,” Lyddmull says with a smile, “I do not always agree with the actions people take. However, until they intend to harm another in some way, I do not general interfere. Not with the blade at any rate.” He sighs, shaking his head. “So many think their own needs and ideals more important than those of others, though,” he adds, then gestures around the intersection, “As we can see.”

“See, I got one thing right at least…” Al says, and then trails off and peers at the slowly vanishing mess. “That reminds me, when Deputy Akela wakes up I need to smack -him- in the mouth. I woke up this morning with a bruise on my ass the size of Long Island.”

Maxwell looks around at the general wreckage “Quite…”

“I would save it for the one responsible,” Lyddmull says with a sympathetic wince, “Which we will not find until we can question the affected individuals.”

Alhambra makes puppydog eyes. “Just a LITTLE slap? Man he almost BIT me. Like with his mouth! Come on.”

Maxwell restrains a chuckle. “Eh, I’m gonna go with finding the responsible person first.”

Lyddmull smiles, leaning down to gently kiss Alhambra’s forehead. “Let us find those who did this,” he says, quite serious despite his gentle tone, “And then you can do all of the slapping you want.”

“Heh heh heh heh,” Al says, making a sillified face. Clearly outnumbered, and disarmed, she capitulates. “Fine, I won’t slap nobody till we find the persons responsible.”

Maxwell smirks “Good to hear. Hopefully you won’t have to wait long.”

“Well,” Lyddmull says, “Than it remains to find these monsters. And bring them down in whatever fashion is required.”

Alhambra keeps her head tilted back. “…annnd hopefully somebody gets some kinda clue, because honestly so far I got nothin’. An’ tomorrow I get to hope the bonded and licensed agender asexual neutral parties show up to monitor the surveillance feeds. It kinda fucked tourism last time we had to do it… Although I am mildly suspicious about the overly eager tourists that came around shortly afterwards. Think they mighta been some kind of exhibitionists.”

Maxwell chuckles “Possible, certainly. Probable, even. But as things go, pretty harmless.”

“The clues are ours for the asking, I should think,” Lyddmull tells Alhambra, “When you have time, we go with your Vollistan doctor to examine the prisoners. With any luck, we can find out what is going on.”

Alhambra seems moderately discomfited about the idea of facing that incomprehensible crowd again. “…okay, but I ain’t a doctor, I don’t see whut having me there to… be around them while they’s still all cracked out would be helpful. Everybody’s appropriately restrained and physically stable, anything past that’s out of my league.”

Maxwell shrugs “Perhaps they’ll find you a calming influence?”

“Well,” the Seamel says, “Once the doctor has done her task, you may be able to get more coherent answers from them, no?”

Alhambra looks at Max like he’s just asked her for a lightly grilled weasel on a bun with fries. “…beggin’ your pardon?” It takes several moments for her to recover from the suggestion before raising an eyebrow at Lyddmull. “Yes, and I’m sure somebody’ll tell me once that’s done, but till then I really… I’m sure somebody taped it, if you could just I don’t know, look at that and try to understand where I’m comin’ from? I was talking to people who wanted to kill me for no fuckin’ reason, man.”

Maxwell shrugs “Just a thought, really. Anyway, think I’ll see if I can’t find Nya.”

“Would you like me to question the individuals, then, my Lady?” Lyddmull asks the sheriff, squeezing her shoulders before turning towards Maxwell with a polite nod. “Have a good evening, Master Cooke,” he says.

“Hokay, lemme know how you guys do, and if anybody gives you a hard time lookin’ at places,” Al drawls, before stretching her legs out and huffing. “No, no, I can do my job, I just don’t see a hell of a lot of point in me bein’ there while people are still freakin’ out. It really went -bad- the last time, hon. I was the opposite of a calmin’ influence. They was just all -screamin- at me and not listenin’ to a damn thing. I don’t see no point in tryin’ to talk to somebody that interprets every damn thing that comes out of my mouth as moustache twirlin’ evil.”

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