2762/Zodiac Rising: No Stone Unturned (Part 1)

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Zodiac Rising: No Stone Unturned (Part 1)
Date of Scene: 07 August 2020
Location: Adams Heights
Synopsis: Henley Crowne, one of the nouveau riche of Adams Heights, Starling City, has a horrible, terrible, no-good, very bad night when four of the corrupted Avatars of the Zodiac show up in search of a treasure for their Master.
Cast of Characters: Amanda Sefton, Jean Grey, Piotr Rasputin, Meggan Puceanu
Tinyplot: Zodiac Rising


Amanda Sefton has posed:
When Henley Crowne went to bed, this evening, he did so with a certain smug satisfaction. His stocks are up. His rivals stocks are are down. And he beat the most recent Uncharted video game. For something like the 10th time. (I mean, the thing came out 3 years ago.)

Yeah. The guy has his priorities.

Fact is, the Crowne's a bit of video game fanatic. Especially the archeology based types like the Uncharted games. With the wealth his experimental VR technology has brought him, he's even gone so far as to transform his recently acquired Adams Heights mansion grounds into something of a real life video game level.

Why?

Because he's rich, young, and... nerdy, apparently.

He's spent much of the last two years collecting obscure artwork from ancient history and secreting it about his property, installing bleeding edge security systems and employing a well-recommended security firm to augment those systems -- which range from electronic tripwire alerts and standard camera monitoring to crazy booby traps and pop-up defenses.

In short, the guy's obsessive. But maybe, in a world full of super heroes and super villians, not completely crazy.

Depending on your point of view, anyway.

Regardless, when Serpens used his magic to activate the corrupted Artifacts of the Zodiac and gather his unsuspecting warriors together, any thoughts of Crowne's defenses were laughable at best. He has complete faith in the strength of his minions to do the task set before them.

And the task is simple: Go to Crowne's estate, collect the centerpiece of his art collection -- a piece of the Tablet of Zalmoxis -- and return to Serpens before dawn. Kill anything or anyone that gets in the way.

Of course, simple... doesn't mean easy.

Jean Grey has posed:
A soft chuckle from the shadows, "So, retrieving one thing from this lot... they are just meat. Rotting, delicious meat." Cancer looks around, her face obscured by a black horned cowl, as her torso is that of an attractive human woman, albeit hairless, and covered with some manner of glossy black chitin. Save for the lower half of her face, ruby lips curving into a wicked smile, hint of pointed teeth visible behind those lips. Her torso feeds into a monstrous crab body, complete with separate massive pincers as well as six legs that allow her to move with frightful speed.

Perhaps it was an unconscious bias of her host, but Cancer looks at Aries with a twisted sort of fondness, "Now, let's murder this interloper in a most... delightful way for our master." She licks her lips in anticipation of the thought.

OOC Inspiration: https://gamepedia.cursecdn.com/mtgsalvation_gamepedia/thumb/3/3c/Sheoldred.jpg/1200px-Sheoldred.jpg

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
Piotr had been sleeping well. Oddly enough he had taken to wearing the armband almost all the time. It just felt right. But when the summons came, the unwitting avatar of Aries made his way to the estate, slightly larger than his normal self, covered in wool, and a ram's head, with seemingly brazen horns, matching the smoldering coals for eyes. Over his armband is now a shield and in his right hand an axe. His usual clothing has been replaced by a chiton and heavy sandals.

Aries looks to Cancer, also likely a residual from his host and says, "Perhaps. But remember the task at hand. Secure the stone." He looks to the building and points with his axe, "We haven't got all night."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Simple doesn't mean easy. Simple doesn't mean straightforward, either.

Where normally a young woman acting as the Keeper of the Light(house) would buck at the thoughts of breaking into a perfectly nice young man's house to acquire something she personally wanted, that isn't the case for the lady of the seething waters. Within that labyrinthine arrangement of hateful walls and despised enclosures, the forbidden pearl held back from her, and therefore, her master.

Pisces -- the Celestial Fisher -- doesn't exactly seem to care much what the natives of the city would think. Long waves of white hair swirl around her azure face, threatening to plunge to an uncertain length. She may well be the most humanoid among them, though her bare feet stand within a cool puddle of water, limbs glistening wet. "We can expect the most bothersome of problems. Locked passages are such an inconvenience," she murmurs, the brook of her voice bubbling up from her throat. Its sibilance rests squarely on the rushing murmur around S, C, and other soft consonants, melodic given she hasn't given over to a fit of pique any time soon. Tossing her head, she stares at the building with contempt. "The sooner it's over, the better. His pleasure at our success is all that matters."

Amanda Sefton has posed:
In fact, the most human-looking person among them is Aquarius, a tall, slender man with a hawkish nose and sharp eyes. He is dressed in the Ancient Greek style and leans lightly on a bladed staff as he overlooks the grounds before them. His lips purse lightly at the conversation between his companions. "Shall we see what the night has in store for us?" he asks presently. A slender, nearly boney hand reaches out gesturing as he murmurs softly. A small squadron of imps, all horns and sharp tails and claws, materialize in a whisper of shadow, smoke, and dark flame. "Go," he commands them. "Show us the way in."

They scramble towards the high wall before them.

The perimeter of the estate is bordered with infrared and laser tripwires, cameras, and a high stone wall with wrought iron fencing along the top. Within the wall is a cadre of (currently lazy) security men. They stroll the perimeter in two teams of two, each with a large dog. Their sweeps are roughly even, so that when one team is at the front, the other is at the back. Presently, one of the teams is about a two minute run away.

There are broad lawns punctuated by gardens concealing various buildings, ranging from gardenling sheds to entertianment pavilions and even a stone chapel just for show. There's a pool house and a large landscaped pool out the back of the sprawling mansion, several terraces rising up to the house proper.

At a glance, it looks almost idyllic -- in a classic Hollywood way, in fact.

But appearances, as these four well-know, can be deceiving. Hidden somewhere in there are robotic defenses and laser turrets, too. And booby traps. And secret passages. And...

Aw, c'mon. It's a dungeon crawl and we all know it.

Jean Grey has posed:
Cancer smiles a little, "Foolish, gullible meat... watch, then, as we need to get a way in..." She concentrates, her form wavering and shrinking down...

And then, a young woman, with dark red hair and clad in no more than a nightgown, is running screaming, "Help me! Oh help me! Please, there's monsters, there's going to get me!!!" She runs right up to the guard patrol, gasping in terror...

And that's when a pair of pinchers erupt from her torso, seizing each unsuspecting guard and quickly crushing their ribcages before they can even cry out, as Cancer uses her host body as a most effective distraction. As she expands to her typical appearance, the guard dog howls and leaps at her...

Only to be seized by a toothy maw forming out of the juncture where the crab body meets humanoid torso, as she laughs, "Bad dog!" The sound of bones crunching can be heard, as Cancer looks quite amused at the bloody carnage.

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
Aries raises a brow as the other two talk, though Cancer's response is a bit... unorthodox, but it works. "That will suffice." His tone level, though he gives a snort of amusement. "But we had best get moving." The avatar of the ram advances, though he keeps his eyes open for threats, "Do you three see anything? Last thing we need is to let the world know of our arrival, which would be far more premature than we would like."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Untroubled by the display of an innocent woman turning into a horrific crustacean centaur, Pisces advances towards the house after Aries. Water hangs in the air from different sources, dewing the grass and gathered into the pool, the planters, all those nice features kepping the place beautifully landscaped. She holds up her hand to pull more of the moisture from the greenery and the other artificial features to weave a light veil of mist around them. As she exhales, the droplets gather thicker and truer, turning into a steadily growing fog that spreads out. Nothing too unusual on a humid summer evening as the liquid condenses into a veil.

Enough to plunge them out of sight for normal eyes, and cool their signatures considerably for anything based off infrared. It will only be a matter of time before the next group of men come, and when they do, she is prepared no doubt for them to drown on the very fluids produced by the air, their body, or a conveniently placed swimming pool. "I hope they left the water running," she sighs, "it makes cleaning up so much easier. I don't think he -likes- you playing with the dogs. Maybe jealous? You can have the next one," she adds to the ram.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
Imps scramble over the wall, possibly setting off an alarm or three, though that hardly matters given Cancer's breach and subsequent... snack? Aquarius hardly bats an eye. Murmuring again, another demonic creature materializes before him. It is eel-like, with a round, dripping maw at its head and wide, leathery wings sprouting from its chitonous back. He walks toward it casually, spreading his arms as if to embrace it like an old friend. It rises up before him, slithering around him and enveloping his torso in flattened panels like a cloak of armour. Then, its wings spread, flapping a strong downdraft that lifts both it and its master skyward, allowing the conjurer to easily surmount the wall and glide within the compound.

The guards, unsurprisingly, die bloody and gruesome deaths. Any remains left behind will likely traumatize emergency responders later -- poor souls. In the security station near the front of the house, their brethren are only alerted to the danger because of the infrared beams that were tripped by the imps.

"What the hell is that?" one of them asks, recoiling from the monitor before him.

"Some sorta animal?" one of the other three guys in the shed suggests.

"You call *that* an animal?!"

"Shit," another says, rising. "We better get out there. Call the chief, Fish. You get hold of patrols, Brody. Ortega, you come with me."

Thus, two more guards, with a little bit of extra weaponry, rush out into the night -- though they're still quite the distance away from the small invasion team.

Brody manages to get the patrol in the front east quadrant of the perimeter on the horn. The team on the back west wall? Yeah... not so much.

But a discarded radio squeals at Cancer's feet, the security guard's voice tinny in the tiny speaker.

"Units three and four, this is unit six. We have a perimeter breach in your vicinity. Please report."

The further across the lawn the Avatars go, the more defenses are tripped -- some by the two men remaining in the security station, some by the interlopers themselves. The whine of motors can be heard, along with the whir of gears as robotic defenses are activated -- patrolling drones with tasers and stunners attached to their bodies.

Jean Grey has posed:
Cancer hmphs, "Aries, my fiery love, murder those drones and I'll do something /quite/ delightful as a reward later. I'll deal with the security station. Cut off the head..." She grins, clambering over the massive wall as if she were a spider instead of a crab, her chitinous skin seeming to thicken as a form of insulation as she scurries rapidly towards the security station. After all, she killed the first patrol... she might be evil, but she's not going to kill steal from the others.

Well, not unless it would be funny... but she has /plans/ for those guards. Oh yes...

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
Aries watches as Pisces extends her grasp over the field, though she gets a snort from the ram, "It is all good, as long as we succeed." He notices the new arrivals and points with his axe. To confirm what Cancer suggests, an evil grin crosses Aries' head as he focuses on them and lets his fiery vision leap fort, hoping to cause the drones to cease being a problem.

The guards that are approaching get a look from Aries, but he nods towards them when he looks to Pisces, "I think it's your turn to have a little fun."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Aquarius has to go and show off being carried by a winged thing. Pisces narrows her eyes, their greying shade rapidly darkening with the ink-black stain of disdain and the lightless depths of her watery home. The glistening net at her hip stays in place as she weaves the mists and fog around herself and, to some degree, Cancer so that her approach to the guard station is that much easier. If it illuminates any of the beams they have to cross to walk around carefully, so much the better. "Ugh, those monsters he's calling are horrendously ugly. No style at all."

Ignoring the drones altogether wouldn't be wise, but she leaves their initial assault to Aries to deal with. But the unwitting pair headed her way might not notice her pulling water from the pool and sending it cross the ground like slithering snakes, so low that it possibly blends into the grass. Dozens of tendrils form and curl, branching together to be stronger, broader. But not all. They lie in wait, a fortress surrounded by a seemingly innocuous puddle.

Each one of those rivulets has the capacity to rise as a needle-sharp spike or an ice-pick to the body, a rope to wrap around unwanted limbs, a set of tendrils to go snaking through orifices of the face and plunge down into the depths of the meat-sack body until organs fill with chlorinated or salt-struck water and drowned while standing still.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
Aquarius' imps spread out in advance of the marauding Avatars. They leap to engage robotic guard dogs that look like a cross between Boston Dynamics 'Spot' robot and a video game turret. Sparks fly as scaley flesh meets ceramic plates. An imp or two goes down beneath a jet of flame or a stream of electricity. But just as many canine mechs end up torn limb from limb, their legs now used as makeshift clubs against their incoming brethren.

The flying drones unlucky enough to cross Aries' gaze die in a shower of glowing slag and sparking embers.

The conjurer himself glides effortlessly to a wide balcony off the back of the house, alighting there and slashing out with his bladed staff. The glass of the balcony door shatters. He glances casually over his shoulder to see how the others fare... and whether or not they intend to catch up or continue to play with the toys on the lawn.

Ortega and Zimati, the pair of men crossing the property in an attempt to stop the invaders, are doubtlessly in for horrible deaths -- drowned or impaled by water moving in ways it really shouldn't be able to. Their dogs fare little better, poor things.

Just before he expires, Zimati gasps into his radio. "Fucking muties. Activate---aughaghgh!"

Brody and Fish, heedless of the crustaceous doom even now creeping towards them, may never know what Zimati wanted them to activate. But that doesn't mean they don't now activate pretty much every defensive system they've got.

Alarms blare loudly across the grounds. The night lights up like day, even the main house glowing as all its lights are turned on. Pisces' fog turns into so much silver haze as it reflects and refracts the light from hundreds of security lights. More flights of drones rise up out of retracting launch tubes buried in the sod and behind bushes -- some flying, some on four legs -- red lights glowing on their faces.

Jean Grey has posed:
And with the mist now a blinding silver, it makes it hard for most to see the giant crab-woman scuttling along the wall, until she slams a massive pincer through the door, "Hello darlings!" She laughs and snatches up Brody by a massive pincer, then does likewise for Fish, drawing him close to her as she whispers, "Oh, Fish! I love fish."

She chuckles softly, "Now, darling, if you shut off all those pesky systems, I'll show you such sights..." With that, her human fingers softly caress Fish, and as she does so, a wave of pure endorphins just flood his hapless meat, the rational brain only capable of doing so much.

Then she whispers, "Or, I could do the opposite..." And that's when all his pain receptors fire off at once, a brief flash of searing ungodly pain that most mortals could withstand. "You see, Fish, Pain... or pleasure." And then that endorphin surge hits his flesh once more, marinating his meat that masquerades for a brain.

"Now, my darling, deactivate the alarm." Then when Brody might try to protest, she places her other hand on his lips, "Shush. Fishy is doing me a favor." And that's when Brody finds his lungs... are now gills. Making it a tad hard to respirate or speak right now.

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
"This escalated quickly," Aries notes and grumbles. The fog makes it hard to see for him, but now is not the time to remedy it with fire as fliers are in the air and he is a walking SAM site. Rays of doom shoot from his eyes as he sees the various drones, hoping to make some progress towards the house, at least. Time is their most expensive resource and it trickles away by the second. When he spots Aquarius, albeit barely, the ram makes a running jump and pulls himself up, turning to Aquarius, "Any idea where it is?"

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
"How nice. Time to go inside, sweetlings!" Spindling the water beneath her feet brings the whole of the pool's swamped wave up with Pisces, launching her fearlessly onto the balcony. Water has a massive amount of tensile strength and resilience, and she needs only a thin column to support her up to the balcony. Then she steps off and starts to... paint.

The other tendrils swirl around her and explode out in a halo of nasty effects, slamming into the nearest drones being sent her way. She rips out the heat from the liquid to spear a shard of ice through one of the devices.

Employing a brutally efficient whiplash effect that can pierce several drones at once and bash them together on a long heaving ribbon of water is far faster and more enjoyable, the mangled materials brought crashing down on any other roly-poly drone group trying to launch.

Shaping the water to her heart's content is a joy, but they have a job to do. Aquarius and Aries can take the lead in straight out demolishing things as she starts feeling as she can for the water in the house, the very liquid in the pipes going to be pulled as they move.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
"No," Aquarius says in answer to Aries' question. "But I think we should ask *him*." He points a long, slender finger at a young man -- probably in his mid-thirties -- with toussled mousy brown hair, wearing a pair of Captain America boxers. (The star is strategically placed.) He stands beside a king-sized bed, gripping a Star Wars bedsheet.

"W-what the hell?!" the man -- Henley Crowne -- stammers fumbling towards his nightstand and the pistol kept therein.

Aquarius steps through the broken glass door and into the bedroom, flashing Aries a predatory grin as he does. The flying eel's wings settle over his shoulders like a cape, its dripping maw hissing over his shoulder at the man. "I shall ask you once," the conjurer tells Henley, his tone urbane, almost bored. "If you do not answer satisfactorily, my friend here may take matters into his own hands. You will not enjoy it." A beat. He glaces to Aries. "Though, I suppose we could wait for the ladies to join us." He gives Henley a broad, sharp-toothed grin. "They tend to be more... *creative* in their amusements." His dark gaze locks with that of the poor man just as Pisces lands on the balcony behind them. "Where is the piece of the ancient tablet you hold?"

"Th-the w-what?"

Aquarius' impatience grows obvious. He snirks and rolls his eyes, snapping his fingers and then splaying them open palm up. Above his hand an image appears -- an illusionary replica of the stone they seek. "The *tablet*," the Captivating Cupbearer growls. "Give it to us." A beat. "We might let you live."

Meanwhile, in the security shed, Fish passes out from the pain. The front of Brody's trousers grow damp and he screams in agony, the pain a mindbending contrast to the momentary, earlier pleasure. "St-ah-op!" he groans. "Please! Stop! I'll do-- it. P-please!"

Let's face it. These guys are rent-a-cops. They do *not* get paid enough for this shit.

Jean Grey has posed:
Cancer smiles coldly, "Good. Very good..." She sets the rent-a-cop down, but still keeps her pincer loosely around the one that agrees, the endorphins slowly building in him. Each little switch deactivating the defenses producing another jolt of bliss as she whispers, "Good boy, just a bit more..." And then, when he finishes and everything is dark and quiet once more? That's when she overloads his nervous system with those endorphins, killing him literally with kindness.

The other guard, she casually drops to the ground, letting him suffocate in the open air. A fitting demise for those that would oppose the Waters, as she strides out of the security station, advancing rapidly now towards the mansion and where Aries and Aquarius have gone.

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
"Heh," Aries grunts as he hefts his axe, "I mean, he has options. I am not a total monster. He can choose the axe, the fire, or the mystery option," he gestures to the arriving threats in the form of the others, "So many choices. Or we can get the tablet. That might be the easiest choice you make in all your life." The dark grin returns, "So what is it?"

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Pisces is in the mansion after the Ram and the Water-Bearer, conspicuously blue-skinned and white-haired, conspicuously rather beautiful and unbothered about her. Her attendant rivulets dance around her in a gown like silver, heavy and sweet and undulant, cloaking her from the waist down. No mistaking the fact her spaghetti-strap top is practically soaking wet, though opaque. "Mr. Crowne," she purrs, the promise wound up in that voice gorgeously soft, as the gentlest balms of the ocean can be.

"My cousin's so to the point. Always in a rush. You know better, don't you?" She walks through the hall, circling around Aquarius and throwing a smile over her shoulder at Aries. "How to relax and enjoy yourself. I love that sort of thing in a person."

Up tilts her smile, her eyes warm and bright with interest, taking in the exciting bedsheet so out of place with the fancy decor. "You own something dangerous. It's stolen property, that's the problem. Though I'm absolutely sure you didn't know." She nods, emphasizing the point. "A bit of chipped stone, like he's showing you, with old writing on it. The very worst possible time, we aren't the only ones who know you have it, and the people coming after it are very angry. They think you've taken something precious from their homeland, paid a fortune to have it snapped," she clicks her fingers for emphasis, "right up. We had to create a diversion, and I am soooo sorry, utterly, about how we interrupted your sleep, but they have to think you didn't know we were coming to help you. To rescue you from the mistakes of your utterly DEPLORABLE trading partners who sold you things they had no right to sell. Time's of the essence, my sweet, and we can't hold them off forever. Won't you make the right choice and show me where it is? My brother's happy to come right along and make sure absolutely no one hurts you. You can tell everyone how scary and awful we were after, but the group you stole from? They're violent, nasty, brutish and... you'd wish your life were short. Please, don't let them hurt us," she warns with a beautifully radiant voice, tick-tocking her finger side to side.

Then she offers her arm. "Come on, let's be quick."

Amanda Sefton has posed:
Henley's frightened gaze flits nervously from Avatar to Avatar as each speaks in turn. At Pisces words, his muddy brown eyes grow round and wide as saucers. "What the hell are you talking about?"

First, a bat-winged man threatens to kill him if they don't get what they want. Then the goat-headed devil-warrior gives him a choice between doors number 1, 2, or 3... which seems to be inhabited by a blue crazylady spouting stuff even he's not stupid enough to believe.

These guys are going to kill him no matter what he says or does. He's got that part figured out.

Thus, hollering out an inarticulate scream of terror and defiance, he raises the shaking pistol in his hand and starts firing wildly at the blue-skinned water woman. She's easily as sexy as an Asari. But he's pretty sure she's an Ardat-Yakshi. And he knows how that ends. So, yes. He starts shooting.

However, his aim... sucks. The guy might kill it in Call of Duty, but keyboards and mice do not a marksman make. (Nor do VR controllers really account for recoil.)

Aquarius ducks as one bullet goes ricochetting in his drirection. The eel draws itself up around him, protecting him from further projectiles. The conjurer summons two very large orc-like creatures to advance on the hapless millionaire. They can absorb bullets better than he can.

Jean Grey has posed:
Cancer bursts into the room at that precise point, "Oho! Have we a ram amongst the sheep?" She then flashes a wicked grin at Aries, "No offense, love." She then advances on Henley, laughing maniacally as she just ignores the bullets that might hit her massive frame, snatching him up in a pincer and drawing him close.

"Now, pet, we can either do this easy..." She then smiles, placing a finger on Henley's forehead, "Or we can do this /real/ easy. Here, let me show you."

She then takes Henley's cheek with her human fingers, stretching the flesh as if it were silly putty, drawing it out so he can see exactly what she's doing, "You shot at us, darling, so you're going to die. Though, to be fair, it was probably going to happen anyway. But I can make it quick and painless, or I can make you beg and squeal for it..."

She pauses, letting the reality of what she can do /to/ him sink in as she calmly says, "Or, I might just leave you alive. Technically. Though I don't think you'd be remotely considered human by the time I was finished with you. But hey, they might keep you in a petting zoo to live out your days as some twisted abomination fit only for nightmares."

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
Aries nods to Pisces attempts diplomacy with the collector. Though sadly the coward is a fool and the ram avatar raises his shield reflexively as the shot goes off. He nearly storms forward, but it seems Aquarius and Cancer both seem to have ideas, and far worse than he could inflict. "I see you selected door number three. You have chosen... poorly." He gives a dark laugh at this, and then with malice in his eyes he says, "But you can still choose less poor decisions, if you decide soon."

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
An articulate scream of defiance, a chance to make it right and he /rejects/ her? Henley receives that slow, arch look from the blue-skinned woman. "You filthy little ape," she hisses, and the swell of Pisces' voice is rapidly turning into the dark cadence of the once glass-smooth sea vexed to a voluminous churn, spiralling strength gathered vocally like a maelstrom created by the abrupt turn of the tides. The first shot has her shaking in rage, and with her, the room shudders down to the baseboards and below. Pipes fit through the house and certainly into the master en suite feel that call, and the water already dragged in with her breaks into thirty separate woven bands lifted in her defense.

Kraken-like arms barbed with vicious sparks of ice weave in hysterical undulations around her, in front of her, and the groaning pipes torn open at the seams jet with yet more liquid to join the miasma.

"Avaricious, thieving wastrel," comes that liquescent proclamation, "spewing out your poisons while reaping wealth from the waters you foul, you dreject us? Who is this worthless, pathetic worm to even turn aside our attention and reject /our/ master?"

High dudgeon is a thing and while Cancer sweeps in, her sister is already starting to radiate that shuddering, vibrating emotion that seethes with a black power fed on terrible, limitless anger. "None worthy of the air or the sight of day." The first of the savage beats shudders through the nearest of the water tendrils slamming down to catch an ankle, a calf, a knee, to nail him beyond the ground. "Take his eyes! Disgusting thing has no business looking upon us, it is unfit to even lie on his face and beg for mercy, the insolent, pathetic, sniveling meat that it is!"

The dulcet hammer-beat is very much the strike of the waves, or precisely how she might backhand Crowne if he weren't blocked somewhat by Cancer. But really, bad idea to let the sadist get upset.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
The pistol drops from Henley's hands -- mainly because trying to pry off the pincer of a monster that looks like it stepped out of a Magic the Gathering card takes precidence over uselessly shooting at it. Especially since the magazine clicked empty several times before the useless weapon is discarded. "Noooo!" he screams, beating on Cancer's pincers with ineffectual fists. "You're just going to kill me anyway!" A point that seems the be borne out, given how grotesquely his cheek is stretched and twisted... which, you know, only causes him to scream more.

He thought he was a Lovecraft fan, until one of its horrors walked into his bedroom.

The orcs stop their advance as Aquarius flicks a hand at them. They look back at him expectantly. Another gesture from him and they turn, heading out of the room to start a methodical sweep of the other rooms down the hallway.

There's the sound of a lot of things breaking when they do.

Aries words actually cause Henley to whimper. "I'll tell you," he tells the Ram, "just make her let me go! Please!" Yes, he's begging.

And those Captain America shorts? Yeah... they're soaked. And stinky.

He screams again as Pisces goes all Evil Galadriel on his ass, slashing his tender flesh with cold barbs. "I'll talk! I'lltalkI'lltalkI'lltalkI'lltalkI'lltalkI'lltalk! Make them stop!" He thrashes in Cancer's grip, begging the males to intervene on his behalf.

No he doesn't hold out much hope. Especially given the look of boredom on Aquarius' features.

"Ladies," the Cupbearer says mildly. "He can't talk, if he's dead." Apparently, he's not so worried, however. Not even when the house groans with the burden on its pipes and plumbing.

Jean Grey has posed:
Cancer smiles and gently moves the flesh back to Henley's cheek, reforming it, "Good boy... yes... now, darling, tell us, everything. And it will feel so good, to confess your sins." She then taps his forehead, and a rush of endorphins hit. Letting him feel a hint of bliss, a reward for submission.

She then glances back at the Cupbearer, "Spoilsport. I wasn't killing him yet." She does, however, release Henley from her pincer, though she still looms over him, human fingers lightly holding onto his shoulders as she makes sure he doesn't go anywhere.

"Tell us what we want to know. Now." Her voice is an insistent command, as she apparently likes being the carrot /and/ the stick. Or maybe just beating people to death with a carrot. Either way.

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
Aries is caught off-guard by Pisces, but it seems to work wonders on getting what they want. Especially as part of the one-two punch from Cancer. As the man's spirit breaks, Aries says, "Good. Now help us." It is curt and commanding. Time is of the essence and his patience is wearing thin. "The sooner this is done, the sooner you will be rid of us for good." The specifics are not there, but at this point, does it matter?

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
He thought he was a horrible little Lovecraft fan. He thought he was a gamer. It's midnight and at the witching hour, there are far worse things than men or crab-women or water.

Rage is still a heady brew for Pisces to drink, and of all the signs, it's a toss up between the Fishes or the Scorpion for who indulges in total loss of control with greater glee. Who embodies the sheer descent faster, and the Twelfth House of Emotions speaks to the unfathomable depths of the human psyche. Darken it with Set's touch and she is unstable, darkened shadows shattering all purpose.

"Let you go?" Her laugh soars. "You pulled a gun on me when I offered you freedom and my arm. You insulted me."

The water leaps and wraps around his other leg, tugging, pulling with a dull lashing drag that leaves the joints sore, not enough to pop, but enough to remind that even a foot of water can plow someone away in motion. Even an inch can drown them. "I gave you everything. Freedom, choice, life. You spurned it." Her voice goes flat, sullen, violently ambivalent: "You threatened me. I would talk. My sister's patience is not without an end. My cousins could start pulling parts of you off. You can still talk then, can't you?"

Amanda Sefton has posed:
"Th-the v-vaul-lt room!" Henley hicups. He's crying like an eight-year-old, now, despite the endorphines building in his system. They give him the breathing room to be able think and to speak instead of caterwaul inarticulately. "I-it-it's d-dow-own-stairs!" Probably in the basement. Probably usually well secured.

Except Cancer took care of all that.

So, not so well secured, then.

As the man babbles the information they need, Aquarius strides from the room, snapping fingers to summon his ransacking minions and redirect them to the basement. He'll leave the others to decide what to do with Henley. And to follow him down at their own leisure, so to speak.

Aries is right, after all. Time *is* of the essence. Despite the fact the nearest neighbors are probably a good five or ten miles away, all those alarms and klaxons were probably also hooked into not only the security firm's headquarters down in the city but also the central police station there.

So, yes. Reinforcements *are* on the way. They're just not likely to arrive in time.

Unless everyone dawdles, that is.

Jean Grey has posed:
Cancer smiles, "Good boy. And I keep my word." With that, she actually kisses him on the lips, the last thing he'll ever feel as she commands his body to overload on endorphins, frying every last synapse and killing him on the spot. Then she nods, "Let's go... I've shut down the security systems, so we should just grab what we need for our Master and be gone from this place."

She laughs at a sudden thought, and then reaches down, warping Henley's face into a grotesque parody of a smile. "False flags." With that, she moves down towards the basement in question, instinctively reducing her body mass to fit easily in the hallway as she glances at Pisces, "That was absolutely delicious, darling... if you're ever bored, come visit Aries and I. It would be nice to not be the only one... making steam, as it were." A sly grin at that, then she laughs.

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
Aries observes the demise of Henley, "It is done," he snorts and raises a brow at the comment from Cancer, more unexpected than anything. "But we must hurry, I will dispose of evidence when we go. The avatar makes a note of the flammables as he continues through the house towards the vault. He has a particular set of skills in fixing this.

Meggan Puceanu has posed:
Truly she cannot be bothered whatsoever to stay in the room with a corpse. A dismissive wave is enough to smash the body to the wall, Henley slammed into his own bed gone with with the water of his own bathroom and toilet, smashed and surging up from a break that will inevitably be reported for wrecking the fine furniture. The paths read through the house are probably measured with the broken pipes, the cracked valves, the stars all alight with crystalline droplets dancing in the strangest angles.

Clouded by no shame but her own arrogance, Pisces stalks through the house with the triple rivulets winding around her and lashing out at anything ahead of them. Water wrapped around her will certainly support her to bounce her over a balcony along with them, impulse a risk of her special brand of cruelty on the loose. "I can imagine all the trouble you two get up to. Hot as hell. Aquarius could only conjure up the ideas in his dreams," she smirks.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
Security non-existent, making their way down to the vault room is easy. Opening the door requires only the effort of Aquarius' minions - the orcs' combined strength, along with some acidic spittle from his eel armour, enough to open the locking mechanism on the steel door disguised as mahogany decor.

The inside of the room is not a bank vault. Rather, it is more like a carpeted private museum. The space is large, divided into small display rooms that would impress The Collector, were he inclined to visit such a backwater planet as this. However, the man's tastes would leave such a connoiseur profoundly disappoitned. Most of the objects within the displays are terribly pedestrian -- either replicas or forgeries -- not that their erstwhile owner ever realized that. The only true piece of history in the room, aside from a few scores from the online auctions of defunct sci-fi tv program sets and video game props, is the Tablet they seek. It sits within a glass case on a white pedestal, under a cluster of directional LED lamps designed to show it off to best effect.

Aquarius uses his staff to smash the case and collect the tablet. Cradling it in the crook of his arm, he smiles to his companions. "It is time for us to go," he tells them. Then, he conjures up a portal that will lead them out of this ruined space to the lair of their Master, where they shall be rewarded for their success.

Mission accomplished.