Alive, Alive-O

[Lucian Anders] By now those who have met Lucian Anders have gotten the general impression that the man doesn't tend to use 'normal' or 'mundane' means to do... well, whatever the hell it is he does. He seems averse to standard modes of form and function, a will-o-the-wisp with an ill-favoured face and questionable tastes in clothing and accessories. The means in which he chooses to communicate with others tend to rely heavily on Chance, Fate, Fortune. A gambling man, though like any self-respecting shark he is rather fond of bending the rules. And surprises.

Like: Surprise! and Molly finds herself woken up to the one thing capable of breaching the safeguards of the Lafette with ease [might want to warn Atlas about this one]. A crow loomed at the foot of her bed, clutching a glistening, pristine calla lily in its beak [better than perched atop a skull, right?]. Certainly a helluva wake up - jarring ka-kaw-trill! and all... but then it goes and speaks while starring at her with inky-beady eyes and a suggestive hint of a raptor-smile, unnerving and bewitching all in one. Its message was simple, really: Lucian Anders requests the pleasure of your fucking company - but not for fucking, not that I think he's opposed, mind you - at the High Tide crab-house on West Addison...
And then gone [just driving curious Molly bonkers, no doubt] though he does leave that gorgeous lily behind.

Kimberly is contacted by more official means, which perhaps rubs Lucien a little wrong given its lack of 'flair' but it does have the added bonus of still feeling clandestine and hopefully gaining Kimberly's trust [so far as 'trust' gets anyone anywhere these days] along the way. She receives a call from Martin, who sounds rather... intrigued. "Kim, make sure your schedule is flexible the next few days. You'll receive word from Lucian Anders soon; Acarya Anders, Chakramuni. This guy used to be pretty big way before your time. Hell, mine too. Went Hermit after '99. Checks out clean, though and apparently has business our your way and could use some friendly back up. He'll make contact."
And he does, with another Crow spirit messenger, this time bearing red, fragrant Poppy blossoms, a message scroll wrapped around it in lieu of ribbons, the words scrawled in Greek: High Tide restaurant on West Addison, in an hour. The back deck. Dress warm.

-------------

And that is where he awaits the two women. The High Tide is closed for the season of course and it's easy enough to find him as he's the only person sitting at a patio table, the wind whipping the ends of his scarf and the lapels of his jacket that looks like it came from the costume room for the original Miami Vice. The wind does just as little for his thinning hair and lends a slightly watery look to his large blue eyes. A lovely shade of blue, really, though the eyes themselves are protruding and buggy. There's a gentleman's cane on his lap, one hand resting over it, that hand bedecked with rings just like the last time Molly saw him. In his free hand a cocktail glass filled with something green as absinthe. His eyes are on the surf though he seems unsurprised when the two women show up.

He looks as tired and harangued as ever, Molly will note.

[Molly Quincannon] Molly, it should be noted, is queen of the geek-T. Her T-shirt shopping is done almost entirely online, through CafePress and Zazzle and similar places (not to mention the ever-present ThinkGeek.com), and thus the spoils of her shopping tend towards the unusual. Take today, for instance. Today is a day for the white T-shirt with the black writing that reads, in a serif font, "Team Anders". The N in 'Anders' is in fact a cartoon calico cat, and there's a stylised line-art red dragon behind the words.

The T-shirt now has dual meaning, and it pleases Molly a great deal. After all, people who compliment her grin and send a flower deserve homage. And while she's got her jacket on, it's warm enough to turn up with the jacket open, displaying the message on the T-shirt. The lily is tucked behind her ear. (Yes, the curiosity is driving her bonkers, but hey - answers will come.

She doesn't start with 'hello'. That'd be boring. What she starts with is, "I gotta give you this; you, sir, have got style." There's glee in her voice, and a hint of sympathy, and fondness, along with the curiosity. Clearly, she's heard a few things of late.

[Kim Jenkins] Kim for all apperances dressed somewhat conservatively. But she almost always did that, going into a situation featuring new people who are probably important. Important enough to warrant a call from Martin, and let's not forget the lovely Crow-message. Having that turn up in her motel-room elicited a happy clap, a pleasing giggle and then a furrowing of eyebrows. She had waiting for days for this message, and when it arrived, all she had to do was grab her bag, put on her coat, and get there.

Anyway, she's got on a long, warm, camel-colored coat which by this time is completely devoid of any evidence that a large scorpion (like, human sized) had tried to cut her half. If one looked closed they would see a few messy stitches, forcing fabric back together. The style was from a few seasons back, and Kim had still been horrified when the scorpion sank it's pincer into her. It was Burberry after all. The scarf she wears has the requisite checks and dags, although not designer it was certainly instyle, and that scarf had traveled with her to all sorts of places. Hair is still brown, though her blonde roots are starting to show...

She followed Molly in, a few steps behind. Hands in her pockets, bag slung over a shoulder.

"Hey."

[Lucian Anders] He looks over towards Molly [whom he still does not know by that name] at her compliment-in-lieu-of-greeting which does draw a smile that does manage to slightly alleviate the sense of fatigue and frustration the older man carries. He doesn't show his teeth, which makes the effect more favourable. "It's a failing art. People are so flippin' careful now with their Hoo-doo they forget to have a little fun with it. Suck the joy right out of it." His eyes dip down, taking in Molly's shirt - and curvature beneath as well, lets have no doubts - and he snorts, but in amused manner. "Lookin' good, dollie, lookin' good."

Kimberly, coming up behind Molly, gets a steady look [and a bit of an eye-wander as well, though his womanizing mannerisms hold no threat or belittlement to them] and a nod. "Gangs all here. You two know each other? Don't suppose that'll get me a real name, eh, 'Mary'?" That to Molly while he stands up and jerks his head towards the door of the closed up restaurant. Look at that - he even holds the door open for them.
There are no signs of breaking and entering: Of course this really shouldn't be surprising.
"Got some coffee brewed for the teetotaler... how about you, 44?" This to Kimberly and, yes, it is a reference to the gun she's no doubt carrying beneath the outfit. "The liquor selection ain't so bad."

Inside the restaurant is dark outside of some of the table candles he's lit up in advance and the glow of exit signs. Indeed, the smell of a breakfast roast greats them, cutting through some of the mustiness of a place that's been locked up for several long months now and still carries a undertone of steamed and fried crustaceans. "You talked to Pretty Boy lately, Mary? Met him, Scarface, Kitten and Cucumber few nights ago..." rubbing a hand over his face he grimaces. "Hell of a night -- anyway, one of them spread the word good like or is communication in this frickin' city worse than I thought?"

[Molly Quincannon] Molly just laughs, first of all. "It might get you a name, but wouldn't that just disappoint you? You were the one advising all that caution, after all. Can't let the team down." And then more laughter, because, "I'm not a teetotaler; I just ride my highs, is all, and caffeine's the bomb. Though I was going to ask what you were having, for the Star Trek reference alone!" In a rather bad Scottish accent, she says, "It's ... it's green, ser." Then she looks wry, in that 'okay, okay, I'll stop' sort of way and says, "Hi, ... 44, from the sound. Like the coat." Then she blinks at the sewn up spot and adds, "So must you. Remind me to ask about that later." (As if she'll need the reminder.)

Then the nicknames, and Molly sorts through people she knows and comes up short a reference. "Cucumber? But not to Pretty Boy, no - 'Kitten' and 'Scarface', yes. The word's spreading, sure enough. Lois helps. Dunno if you saw her at any point; she'd have remembered you, and you her." If he can come up with nicknames, so can she.

[Kim Jenkins] She ain't bad to look at. Pretty face, the coat is form fitting, but in this locale and in this weather (it's still cold for her), fittings can be decieving.

"Scotch and diet pepsi."

Yeah, alright! Intense blue eyes flit around the darkened resturant. She might have been concerned if she was alone, and not carrying her foci, or a gun, or a knife, or maybe another gun or maybe another knife. Or magik, wait, we established that already. A wink goes to Molly.

"I ran into some local wildlife a couple of weeks back."

[Lucian Anders] With half a scowl and a roll of his eyes [gotta keep up the grumpy ol' troll rep] he shakes his head. "Flowers and coffee and flair and still no name? Must be losing my touch." But he shambles over to the bar counter, from there to mix the Scotch and diet pepsi like they're in his own home. To his own drink he nods, "Absinthe. Just hasn't been finished yet." And from an inner pocket of his own jacket he draws out silver Absinthe spoon [so he just happens to carry one of those around... so what?] and proceeds with drizzling cold water over a sugar cube, letting the liquid beneath cloud and blossom, the aroma of anise now more prominent. Coffee is poured and a bowl of sugar packets and single-serving creamer moved Molly's way.

"Lois? Nah. You, Kitten and 44 here are the only dollies so far though I think there's another couple I'll need to meet soon. I dunno, crystal ball's always hazy on the face details, dunno if that's a design flaw or what... it was made by a Gitana who liked to make her own violin strings fresh from the source so," his nose wrinkles, "Crazy bint."

Yes, he's a touch... off.

"Cucumber called himself Alex. Stiff prick is what he was. Didn't seem to much like Scarface... not that Scarface seems particularly likeable. Not that I expect you people to like each other -- fuck that shit would make things too easy," he grumps and leans on the bar table. "Anyway, Jenkins, lemme give you the skinny and Mary can call it 'Review' -- I'm here following a Spirit Construct. A Sending gone-wrong... like they all fuckin' went tits-up wrong after Concordia fell, India and the Maelstrom. This is one of the first ones and still hasn't been properly dealt with. I'm still not sure how many times its crossed the Gauntlet and absorbed Atman shards from the Storm, but that I know of at least a half dozen times, maybe closer to a bakers dozen. Someone Bound 'her' about five years ago but some uppity know-it-all Hermetic co-ed went and tampered with the Binding tool and released her again. Now the Sending is here and its the cause of all the dooms-day bullshit tearing through this town... fuck, I wouldn't be surprised if it has to do with the 'wildlife' you met up with. Lemme guess: Whatever you dealt with seemed to be tied somehow to some shouldn't-be-able-to-do-this-shit Sleeper, eh? Maybe a kid? The Sending likes kids - they still dream hard and wish harder and believe in it. When kids won't do the desperate will."

A pause to sip his now misty-looking liquor and dart his eyes from Kim to Molly... "Any questions so far?"
...and the eyes dart back to Molly, meaning to scowl though a barest upturn of one edge of his lips kind of ruins it. "I'm gonna regret asking that, aren't I?"

[Kim Jenkins] "Kid and a comic book, yeah."

Kim shrugs. She was having a little difficulty in following him, but that wasn't anything unusual. The world was a very new place for her, and there was a lot she didn't understand. Absinthe for instance. It both smelt and tasted terrible, and while she won't question another magi's need for such things, especially a family member's, that did not stop her from forming an opinion on it. She just kept to herself, and accepted the scotch.

Taking a sip, she mulls over Lucian's question. Kim had a lot of questions, but ultimately she decides they can all wait until later. Only one was important, and that was the one she was going ask. She's going leave those other quesitons to Molly.

And as she does so, those Intense eyes fall on the Chakravanti infront of her. Or wherever he is in relation, it's unimportant.

"What do you need me to do?"

There was actually another important quesiton, but that could wait a few minutes.

[Molly Quincannon] "Not Aldebaran whiskey? Shame." But the smile is kind, and there is grateful-squeak over coffee. And then Alex and, "Oooooooh, him. I was wondering if he was still around. His one heavy connection that I know about to Chicago doings tends to be ... elsewhere, a lot. Cucumber fits, I guess. Huh."

That gets mulled over as she listens to information that yeah, she knows about. She nods along, putting bits together and fitting in definites of what were once possibilities ... and then the teasing shot at her, and she chuckles even as she nods a little. "You might, and I've got a few. Some are pretty basic - what's she using for power? Why is she cutting us off from our Avatars? I mean, I was theorising that if she was feeding off the desperation, then there's not a lot more desperate than one of us cut off from so much of ourselves - that is the nastiest feeling I've had in awhile, not gonna lie." Not the nastiest feeling ever, though - she's had a few points of comparison, obviously. "Also, how do we deal with her? Which I figure is kind of a tricky one for you, given some bits of the mess as I know them. I get this is kind of ... personal, in places, and I'd like to at least try to get out of this with as few people hurt - physically and otherwise - as possible. So if there's a way we can do emotional damage control when this thing gets dealt with ... then great, seriously, advice is welcome. I know squat about all this and while I don't want tornados and rains of fire and disturbing minds that would not waken otherwise - because that just isn't right, and is a big Trad no-no for me personally..." She looks sheepish, but carries on. "...I just don't want more heart-wrenching than there needs to be, either."

[Lucian Anders] What do you need me to do?
The unattractive man looks to the younger, attractive woman at that and he nods as if confirming something, "Martin said you were old-school to the point. Effective. Eager. Found us, didn't you, not the other way around?" Here his snort might be laughter, "For all I know you might just have a heaping death wish, 44. Or maybe we've always had it wrong putting so much stock in the pedigree of our illustrious Atmans, like our Souls should be some handy phallus t'wave n' shake. Like we was entitled." Brooding now, his eyebrows drawn together, with a tiredness as terrible as this, some of his more jaded, frustrated moments. "Hold on a kip, 44, I'll get to that."

Looking to Molly now and he answers the last, first. "You deal with her like you deal with any other anomaly to the Wheel that needs taken care of: You cut it out like a tumor. This woman, this Sending, this 'thing' serves no natural purpose outside of the argument that us dealing with her might make us better or weed out what needs weeding. Others tried Binding her, like I said: Standard way to deal with something Ephemeral when your either too soft or too power hungry to get rid of it. Given 'she' first got locked up by Hermetics my guess is the fuckin' latter and look where that led, right? Pandora's twat all over again. Seal something up and say 'don't' touch and it's like putting a neon sign over it. We try to bind her again and it'll just happen all over, world-without-fuckin'-end."
He fiddles with the rings adorning both hands as he goes on, brows knitt, "But like most Constructs or Spirits there are rules. Always rules. What we've got to do is get together the right components to disable her ability to cut us off and her defense mechanism of skirting when things get violent. That'll just give her more Juice anyway. As for how she's powering herself disconnected from the Shadow... sorry, kiddo, I don't got an answer on that one, yet, but I've got someone looking into it. And cutting us off?" Here he sighs; shifts his eight, adjusts his crotch a little. "This is pure conjecture, dollie, so don't take it like Gospel, right? But what was the party line before the so-called Consensus of Apathy won out over us n' the Mirrorshades? Global Ascension. A return to the High Mythic Age. Shit for the better of the world, right, or just to make life a little easier for us 'Endowed' whichever. So supposing the Cultist that made her had strong opinions on it.. doesn't really matter what, just felt strong about it. And suppose those Shards she absorbed -- well how many of them died trying to make that dream a reality? How many of 'em gloried in their own little imaginary worlds where their Will was All and not a care for how unnatural it was? Now take those ideas, thoughts thoughts, those arguments... and shove 'em all into this Construct-gone-wrong, now self-aware and full'a her own crazy dreams whose every encounter with us so far involves someone trying to use her, bind her, break her? Might give you some nasty ideas. I think this is her nasty, vengeful idea. Like sayin' 'Sure I'll do what you made me for and I'll give you your dreams -- but you'll pay the price for it.' So what value a brave new world for the Sleepers? You willin' to give up your Hoo-doo so ten others might gain their own?" A pause and a shrug.. "Theories, Mary-Maudlin, theories."

He looks back to Kim, "Like I said, we need to get the right components and pieces t'be able to deal with thing. I've got a job for Mary here and maybe one other... and I need you to do your thing and make sure they're able to get it done, 44."

[Molly Quincannon] "...........But it will Burn, it can Burn, all great things for great Price..."

It's musing, that bit; not spoken to either Euthanatos but spoken out loud to herself; a thing remembered (and so recent, it doesn't take much). Then she shakes her head a little and says, "That's what they were chanting, the Sleepers. 'The Heat; the Warmth; the Fire. Reap the Summer Sun; claim it for your own. But it will Burn, it can Burn, all things for great Price'. There's ... been a fair bit of that going on. Not gospel, no, but ... it'll do as a working theory until something comes along that disproves it. And everything I've heard doesn't."

This, Molly can get her head around. A Construct, a thing, playing a nasty joke (in theory, Molly; self-aware it may be, this 'her', but so were a couple of things you dealt with in Undertown...) and destroying things. And there is something she can do about it; this is balm for her Frantic need to do something. So, two more questions, then: "What do you need me to do? And this 'other' - does your crystal ball have a specific in mind, or do I get to pick?" An absent hand rises to rub the back of her head; ah, backup...

[Kim Jenkins] She smiles proudly when he brings up her non-existant lineage. It was true. She found them, she made them take her, she made them kill her. Don't tell her what she can't do, Kim has already done the impossible. Twice.

After a few moments, that smile gets a little disconcerting. She doesn't have a death wish, not anymore at least. Just a tiny spoke in a vast Wheel, a spoke they didn't even know was missing until they'd found her. Infinitely useful, to have an Awakened around who didn't warp or change those around her while simply standing there. Lucian knows that he could've asked her to do almost anything, and as long as it fit within her code. Their code.

Kim takes another sip of her scotch, pretending to follow along as her smile fades away, and then finally,

"Can do...."

Pause, she'd been sipping that scotch for a while now. A devious smile tugs at the corners of her mouth.

"... I'm gonna need two things though."

[Lucian Anders] His eyes go a little narrow at Molly's reference to the crystal ball -- people like to knock the cliche's but dammit if some of them don't work just fine! When he's assured himself she isn't getting all uppity he nods, "I've got some more contacts t'make. You can see about finding someone else to go along but there's got to be the element of Fate to this. Not just destiny but random factors, too. There's just too much this Sending can suss out otherwise. If I find out about a second element you'll know about it. If not then you do what you've got to do. Like you've probably heard, this Sending has a line to me -- I can nudge you dollies along but the less I know about specifics the better. Which means the lead I'm about t'give you is sketchy. At this point the Sending is gonna start getting followers. Desperate, fanatic, crazy types. They'll want and want and want from her and she'll give-give-give and feed off each other. I don't think she gets her main Juice from Need, but it helps stave off the hunger pangs. Some are going to be drawn to her not even knowing why -- this is the important part: An innocent will Awaken. Truly Awaken. But awaken into Quiet. I need you to find this Innocent. My hunch is they will be young but don't just narrow your search to that. You girls need to find the Innocent and grab them. This is the Element of Truth: The Sending is mad and whirling: We need to make it confront the truth of what its done. And with a little luck it'll let us save the Innocent, too."

He looks between them both, "I dunno what plan you'll come up with to try and narrow the search and what do do when you find the Innocent and, like I said, probably best I don't know. But when you have her or him and have them safe, then you let me know, but not where."
To Kim directly then, eyebrows sweeping upward with mock [well, mostly] indignation, "Ya need two things? Frickin' kids these days... whaddya want?"

[Molly Quincannon] There are half a hundred questions that Molly wants to ask at this point (and no, she wasn't getting uppity; teasing a little, but not uppity - just genuinely curious as to whether there were other specifics and he'd know better than she would), and the only thing that stops her is the fact that he's likely not actually the one with the answers to those questions. To find the answers, she will have to go looking for them, and incidentally maybe help save the day. Since finding the answers and helping save the day are two of Molly's favourite things in the world, it's fairly easy to exercise a bit of patience. Particularly since it means that she probably won't have to ask Ashley for backup again. She'd actually prefer the gun-butt to the head than what went down last time. So instead of asking questions, she just nods. "Okay. Fate, I can do, and I'll keep feelers out just in case."

Then she shuts up and lets Kim ask for the things she needs. She's curious about that, too. The subtext here is all kinds of interesting.

[Kim Jenkins] Two things.

Kim downs the rest of the scotch and diet pepsi. The more she found out about this, situation, the better it sounded. She was already pretty confident, and details just pushed her further along. She was also a whee bit drunk.

Two things. An (intense) grin plays across her (attractive) face.

"Two things. One, where do I send the expense sheet."

Obvious. Knights of Radamanthys gots to get paid.

"Two, I need... Information. A book, or a document, doesn't even need to be original, I can make copies. To fill in some gaps, concerning a sibling of ours, allegedly long since past, who was ability to determine Sleepers with Siddhi potential, and then more astounding, Awaken them."

A finger with a red-painted nail carefully traces around the rim of her glass as she glances over at Molly for a minute before settling back on Lucian.

"Or you know, something along those lines."

[Lucian Anders] Snorting again, but there's definitely something of humour in it. "Fonts of altruism, shit. Tell you what Shravaka," Molly won't know the lingo but it has an air of rank to it and not especially high. "You deliver and be the bitchin' best that you can be and you'll get paid, don't worry yer pretty head. If yer worried I ain't good for it, ask ol' Marty."

As for the other at that he looks passingly surprised; then speculative. Inward bound, no doubt combing through a whatever font of information and learning lurks in that ugly head, beneath limp, thinning hair. Then he stops and laughs, a barking, slightly wheezing laugh. "Tell me you don't mean Gilchrist. Heh. That bastard was a piece'a work -- yeah, I c'n get you something."

Standing straight he stretches with the audible pop of various vertebrae and other assorted joints, "Times about up, dollies. Can't stay in one place too long with a bitch on my heels." For all of his crass words there is a brief but potent impression of regret and anger both; longing and ire. "Anything else?"

[Molly Quincannon] "..........." Oh, so many questions ... but she'll ask Kim those. Later. Another time.

For now, she decides that she's got what information she needs - or at least, what she needs that Lucian can give - and says, "One thing. Tiny thing. You know one name that came from an Irish folk ballad. My other one - the one you've been angling for - turns up in a lot of Irish folk ballads. Also classic 50s rock and roll and a lot of grunge, for some reason." Then she grins a bit and sings (quietly, and badly) "Crying cockles and mussels, alive, alive-o." She doesn't know if he's familiar with that one (In Dublin's fair city / Where the girls are so pretty / I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone...), but it's certainly enough clues for him to JFGI her first name if he wants to, while still maintaining some manner of caution. After all, without the 'name that tune' clue, there are a lot of possibilities.

[Kim Jenkins] She laughs, emminently satisfied with the response.

"I will and I'm not."

Gilchrist. Kim might have settled for just the name, the promise of more merely adds to her determination. She'll be the best that she can be, alright, and then some. No more questions from her, though a long discussion with Molly was probably in her direct future.

[Lucian Anders] For the second time in his acquaintance with Molly the mans smile looks just a little softer than usual: If anything it makes him seem all the more fatigued, but detracts from the edge of unrest and anger [rage from agony] that so often roils in the undercurrent of it. "Dunno if I'd call ya sweet and, honey, ya can't sing. But fair n' pretty n' alive... sure Molly Malone, sure." And with something more like paternal benediction than the lechery he tries to mingle into his vibe, he moves around the bar and kisses the Cultists forehead: Brief... brief and follows by a gruff-and-grumble clearing of his throat and a look to Kim... and, to salvage his rep, for her he's all waggling eyebrows and "Do real fine, Shravaka and I might let you touch the balls -- the crystal ones that is, sure, sure." And with a little half-wheeze at his own groan-worthy wit he's jerking his head for the door. "Outta here now, duckies, go along all in a row. Let me know when you've found the one you seek. I'll be in touch if I need to."

A beat,
"Be careful."

[Molly Quincannon] The comment about her singing gets a chuckle. The forehead-kiss gets a beaming grin and a hug - she can't take his burdens, wouldn't if she could, but she can add to his pile of good things, maybe. "You too, okay? And I will." It applies across the board - she will be careful (or as much so as she knows how), find the one she seeks, and get in touch with him - by whatever means - when she does. She's got something of his, after all - if he wants to be found, she'll be able to find him.

Then, with a salute and a friendly nudge of Kim's shoulder with her own, she's out.

[Kim Jenkins] Leaning back in her chair for a moment, she smiles.

"I look forward to it. See you around. Mols, we'll talk soon."