[closed] yes, turn the knob and switch that gear

[faithlikeaseed]

Who: The SQUIP, L Lawliet, Connor, and Justine vs Rich Goranski, Michael Mell, Myr Shivana, and Niles, with Jeremy Heere in the middle like a rugby ball.
When: The 14th, before the mist recedes.
Where: waves hands vaguely, somewhere near where the SQUIP’s hiding its people-hoard
What: A little spot of aggravated assault against an AI gone rogue. The SQUIP’s number is up.
Warnings: v i o l e n c e, body horror, blood, traumatic brain injury; more as needed.


Three days of mist and chaos hadn’t been kind to Aefenglom. Despite the Coven’s best efforts, the city resembled a war zone more than a thriving metropolis, with Monsters and Witches alike running rampant. Some were feral--some were simply making best use of a crisis--but regardless of motive, many, too many, were going unopposed and unnoticed.

Among the rioting and looting, the SQUIP’s quiet personal effort to grow its social network might’ve gone entirely unnoticed. It was almost commendable, in a sick way, in stashing the people it collected out of harm’s way. It could have very well gone on doing so until the mist receded with no one but its new acquisitions the wiser--

But then it made the mistake of grabbing the wrong person, and all hell broke loose.

Comments

[hearthebell]

[There's so much going on. L is accustomed to multitasking; the screen that deals pain to those who fail to listen once or twice, and death to those who fail more can surely be maintained with Rich, Niles, and others attempting to get to the SQUIP, but with Myr threatening to meet the fate of someone so much stupider, it is admittedly more difficult to keep track of where his attention is going, where his energy and anxiousness are being expended.

Myr's backing up. L's eyes widen in his pale face. No... please don't...]

Stop it!

[It's not meant for you. It's also very likely going to betray something interesting about the screen: it's more like a bed of needles. Counter-intuitively, the more surface area that's in contact with it, the less total damage an attacker takes. The shock disperses over more flesh, and disperses much faster.]

I mean it. Stay down; I'll get through to it. I'll fix things. But hurting it isn't going to help anything.

[faithlikeaseed]

[Either I'm getting used to this, or--

Myr's no stranger to lightning magic; while his own strength with the primal elements had been fire, he'd electrocuted himself a time or two when he was younger and dumber. Generally there wasn't any getting used to it--it did whatever it damn well pleased with nerves and muscles and if you were lucky, you survived it.

He has a hunch, as he gets back to his feet--slower this time, singed petals fluttering to the ground between his awkwardly split hooves--he has a hunch he might know how this works. Two points is a line, three's a pattern...]

It hurt you. [His voice is more clotted, harder to make out; this hurts and it's done no small damage.] It's hurt them and doesn't know remorse for it. [That it did for Linden's sake-- He doesn't know, his brain is too fogged now to think that implication through the way it deserves.

It will be something to worry at later, should he survive. Pray they all survive.]

It will stop at nothing. If there were any other way,

[This time he doesn't back up from the barrier; it isn't in him to charge headlong at it so quickly again. Instead, he turns aside and sidles up to it to press all his flank against it.

If there were any other way, if I thought this could be done cleanly and without pain for you, I'd do it. Maker, I would.]

[hearthebell]

[L himself approaches his barrier; it's designed to pose no risk to him, of course, but the fact that Myr just keeps on persisting is worrisome for two reasons. The first is that he runs a real risk of injuring and even killing himself. The second, coming to fruition before L's round dark eyes, is the fact that a mind he respects might well have just figured the damn thing out.]

It never meant to. And even if it did...

[He lays a palm against the wall where Myr's flank presses against it. It's truly more of a veil in practice. It ripples against his touch, then frays and scatters like shreds of tissue. There was no point to keeping it up longer, not when Myr's approach would have rendered it useless soon, anyway.]

...I expect that, at any time, from anyone.

[I'm immune to disappointment or betrayal.]

I even expect it from the SQUIP, and...

[He withdraws his hand from the faun's flank, pulling it closer to his core and pressing his palms together. When he pulls them apart again, there's a concentrated, crackling blue chain gripped in his hands.]

...even from you, my friend.

[twoplayergay]

[ Another painful moment passes, Michael's heart quivering. ]

You... you gotta fight it! It's...

[ His eyes finally tear away from Jeremy and scan out over the scene- chaos, but there's the pile of papers. Spells. What was it Myr had said? Something like that.

Determination sets hard lines into Michael's face and he bolts for them, snatching one up and running back toward Jeremy, hoping and praying he doesn't get noticed by one of the more dangerous beings here. ]

[heerequeerandfulloffear]

[At first, Jeremy watches Michael speed away from the danger approvingly. There's disappointment, too, but Jeremy doesn't understand why.

But he's... coming... back?

Something flutters inside him but it doesn't show, except that Jeremy leans back from Michael's direction with a sneer, as if Michael's giving off some terrible odor. What is that?

He recognizes a spell like the one he gave to Connor. A knock-out spell, then. Michael's trying to get him unconscious. That's fine--it might be better for everybody to not have another body getting in the way between the attacking group and the SQUIP.]

[cyclopticsadist]

[Niles' attention is immediately drawn back to Connor. Not just by the tackle, but that blood. He grabs Connor's face with his human hands. The nails on his fingers weren't as long or as sturdy as the ones on his paws, but they were plenty sharp. He digs them into the skin, (was it skin? it didn't feel quite like flesh), and drags his right hand across the undamaged cheek. Slowly. More curious blue blood welled up and Niles pupils dilate with hungry curiosity. Was that a monster trait? A magical effect of some kind? What was he? How-

His rapidly increasing list of questions is interrupted by the sharp sound of ice cracking. He jumps, bringing Connor along for the ride, although it causes him to stumble on landing due to the imbalanced weight. Now flanking Justine with the remainder of the ice wall he's got a perfect chance to get the charm breaker on her. Or he would if he didn't have this hitchhiker. With a growl Niles drops to the ground and rolls, trying to break Connor's grip by crushing him.]

[plasticasshole]

[Connor growls as Niles grabs his cheek, the claws going through the "skin" on the other side of his face and exposing more plastic. He bleeds as it's damaged, but he can't do much when he's hanging off Niles like this.

When Niles jumps he clings harder, and when he rolls he keeps his grip firm. It doesn't hurt and he doesn't need to breathe... and Justine is more important than himself.]

Just hit him, Justine! Don't worry about me!

[ishisstrength]

[A vice tightens around her heart and her blood runs cold at the sight of Connor being torn apart in front of her. The hazy dreamlike gleam to her eyes sharpens as a new anger fills her to her breaking point. That furry consumes her and the rest of the battle slips into the background.]

Let go Connor. [She whispers, her words dangerous and low.

There is no cast. Instead Justine steps forwards and reaches out with her hand. Her nails curl together as if crushing the air in her palm and then she pulls back, stealing the air from Nile's lungs. All of her pain, her fear, her anger, the torrent of chaotic emotions inside of her pours into that single spell and fuels it.]

You. [Her words are low and clipped.] Will. Not. Hurt. Him.

[cyclopticsadist]

[Connor releases Niles and he twists as he stands up to face Justine properly. The reaching hand motion causes a spike of fear in his gut, thinking Justine knew the same mind control magic as the Squip. He has to deal with her before he loses himse-

The spell hits and he tries to gasp, no longer worried about losing his mind, but now his life as she chokes him out. He has at least a minute before he's out of it. He stumbles forward, lungs aching, leaning forward and reaching out, doing everything he can to close the distance between himself and the witch, charm breaker in hand.]

[plasticasshole]

[Connor gets back to his feet and looks between the two. Something feels wrong about watching Justine choke Niles. Does she really want to kill him? He struggles briefly against the SQUIP's control, an easier task now that everyone is distracted.]

Justine. Stop.

[It's not that he cares if Niles dies... because quite honestly, he doesn't. What he does care about is the fact that Niles will likely come after Justine if she does. Death isn't permanent here, but Niles could be capable of thinking of something worse. He can't take that chance.]

Please.

[His eyes dart between both of them as he inches closer to her.]

[faithlikeaseed]

[Better far, Myr thinks, if Linden had let him batter himself against the barrier for however long that took, whatever damage it did. This would feel earned, the wounds accrued fitting punishment for this necessary betrayal.

It could not hurt more than being reminded of their friendship, even now.

He does not move away as Linden approaches, lifting his head with ears laid flat to his neck. Those eyes not left scorched, blinded, bleeding by the shocks paint a fractured picture of the Witch: Painfully thin, hollow-eyed, bloodied (oh, no; not you as well, Linden, though it's thought with resignation and no surprise)--the very image of frail ill health.

Every instinct of chivalry drilled into Myr's head named it wrong to fight an opponent like that; the Maker wept to see the strong crush the weak. Magic may be the equalizer between them but that mere fact makes Myr no more ready to bring physical force against someone who looks (is) deserving of his protection instead.

But needs must. What little he can perceive of the rest of the battle would go all the worse if he fails to stop Linden.]

Expected isn't deserved. [You shouldn't have to believe the world is always and only this way. ]

Forgive me.

[The actinic light of the chain reflects wetly in his eyes. Myr draws back from it, tossing his antlers and showing teeth. It's half-feigned; he lets instinct guide him in the retreat to make it appear real--up until some battlefield distraction (a flutter of dark wings overhead, a shout, a spray of razor shards spalled from the ice-wall) gives him cover to charge.

A feint toward Linden's left, not meant to connect but to test his opponent's intentions with the spell.]

[twoplayergay]

[ Michael is temporarily distracted from his fussing with Jeremy by the sight of the chaos happening across the way. Fear grips tight onto Michael's guts, and a plethora of other confusing emotions he can't rightly cope with.

Connor was siding with the SQUIP, that much he could see, and that left a bitter taste in his mouth. Worse still was seeing him ripped open, though, especially because Michael knows nothing about Niles or why he would be here, who he's even trying to help.

Justine is someone he trusted, though, and he's certain she's simply under some kind of control, like Jeremy. Connor, who knows, but Justine definitely wouldn't be the type to condone the shit the SQUIP does... right?

And he doubts she's the kind of person who wants a death on her consciousness. ]

Justine, no!

[ He doesn't realize until after he's screamed that he probably doesn't want to be drawing attention to himself, actually. Shit. ]

[twoplayergay]

[ That sneer on his face... it hurts. It dredges up feelings from deep in the mire of Michael's mind, and for a split second he's alone in Jake Dillinger's bathroom again, wishing he was dead.

But only for a second. He grits his teeth, fist clenching tight around the spell. Please work, he thinks, almost a prayer to the paper itself.

He gets within feet of Jeremy and then slows, as if worried the statue of a boy will suddenly lash out if he gets too close. A few more steps. A hesitation.

Then he's smushing the paper right to Jeremy's forehead. ]

[heerequeerandfulloffear]

[It seems like Michael is frightened too. Jeremy doesn't attack, thankfully, not even verbally. He can't seem to do anything, no matter how much he strains and pulls to be able to.

His eyes water. Do this and leave, Michael. Don't get caught in the crossfire.

Michael approaches with the knock-out spell and Jeremy clenches his eyes shut. It doesn't come. After a long moment, Jeremy cracks his eyes open again to see what's happening--right as Michael shoves the paper on his face. Jeremy involuntarily sputters, stumbling back before his spine rights itself to a rigid line again.

It doesn't work...? Jeremy's still awake. He can feel something in the paper, warm and sharp against his forehead as it pours into his mind, but it doesn't make him fall back or go unconscious or anything.

He tries to say something to Michael, a half-thought.]

Why isn't i--

[It gets aborted as soon as it forms. Jeremy's still trapped, but at least his expression has changed. The smirk is gone. He's clearly dazed and worried now.]

[ishisstrength]

[Her breath quickens as her heart threatens to pull from her chest. She doesn't want to hurt anyone but she needs to protect Connor. She can't lose him. She can't lose anyone else. Harry... Majima... Paris... they were all leaving. It would destroy her to lose anyone else she'd come to care about.]

I can't let that happen. [Her words are soft, whispered like a prayer.] I can't lose anyone else.

[It's Connor's voice that reaches her first. The soft pleading note. The spell loosens but she doesn't stop. She's trying to protect him. Doesn't he realize it? He's bleeding.

Then Michael's shout fills her thoughts. Her back straightens as if someone is pulling her shoulders back. The spell doesn't release but her body moves with a jerky tightness as if she's struggling. Tears sting her eyes. Not because she's done fighting but because she doesn't know what to do.]

Why?

[She asks, her voice thick and low. She isn't able to break the enchantment like Connor. Her thoughts are complacent beneath it and the voices quieter. Even if she wants to be free, a part of her will always seek that escape.]

[fromjapan]

[The SQUIP sees no difference at all.

The body is different, of course, not only the dragon parts-- Rich is older now, scarred and then healed over, but beneath that, he is the same. The only way Rich ever managed to feel strong, to feel confident, was when he learned to stomp down anything or anyone in his path, to tear the things that hurt him apart. Rich was freed from his fear when he vented it outward, inflicting it onto everyone else.

This is no different.

His fear and pain welled up... and this time, they literally transformed him, giving him a form that could crush that which was upsetting him.]

Using violence to defend yourself from that which hurts you... you say your strength now has nothing to do with us, but who was it that taught you that little trick, Rich?

[Its voice is ice.

If what he wants is a fight-- if Rich's aim is to turn this into a draconic pissing contest, well. Fine.

The SQUIP's own form begins to shift in return; and where Rich goes for mass, the SQUIP's form is sleek and alien, a long neck and shining white-blue scales, the horns that grew atop its head extending upward and curving wickedly. Its eyes are still mismatched-- one black as pitch, the other a vivid, cruel white, both set into its odd head, narrowed. Circuitry marks the webbing of its dark wings.

It glances one last time, sidelong, at L; and then it ascends, taking flight to meet Rich wherever he may decide to attempt making his way through the barrier.]

[firewalled]

[Rich isn't sure how much of him has changed now from what the SQUIP made him, and that's a struggle for a different time. He's not going to let it get to him now... there are people here, even if many of them are charmed and turned against him, who see him for something more now, and cruel, manipulative words aren't about to stop him now.

He doesn't respond to the taunt, doesn't really seem to get angrier about it, just watches as the SQUIP shifts into a dragon and flies up to meet him. So this fog really had changed its abilities... that's definitely a little more intimidating, but Rich has to keep this up. Now that this battle has started, there's no way to stop it without risking lives, and he has to be strong enough to keep going.

Once the SQUIP has flown close enough to him, Rich lets out a roar, exhaling blistering flames in the SQUIP's direction. It's not a large enough blast to reach anyone below, but it certainly is more impressive than what he showed off in that auction.]

[fromjapan]

[My, how he's grown.

The SQUIP hasn't had nearly as much time to adjust to its dragon form, or to being dragonlike in any capacity, but it manages to swirl aside and avoid the flames for now, if only narrowly. It feels the unreal heat brush just past its wing; that was too close.

It attempts to overtake Rich-- pushes itself up into the air, tucking its body tightly in to propel itself up above him, to attempt to swing down at Rich with a much more physical blow, a swing of its newly-grown claws.

It doesn't know how to use fire. Rich has the upper hand in that way.]

[firewalled]

[Rich has barely had a day to adjust, but apparently, it's been enough to face the SQUIP. It seems that Rich might just have the upper hand here, might just be able to wear the SQUIP down enough to the point where he can use that not-so-secret weapon.

As the SQUIP propels upward, Rich lets himself retreat back, just feeling the claws graze the edge of his snout. Rich breathes fire again, towards that paw outstretched in his direction, in order to distract the SQUIP enough to fly around and claw at its belly.

The SQUIP may have learned that all dragons have a weak point. Rich has to find the SQUIP's eventually if he keeps striking.]

[hearthebell]

[Though L holds the electric chain in his hands like a weapon, he uses it more like a shield, and reluctantly, at that.

Because Myr's intentions are so good. Even noble. What isn't deserved is the strangely high opinion the faun seems to have of "Linden," who is, of course, a fiction and a lie.

It's not a lie, though, the way L braces and then flinches, engaging Myr in a dance that is half stagger and half a proficient fighter's footwork as he avoids rather than engages the stag's charge. Myr's strength and speed are far greater than his, to the level where he couldn't hope to compete on a physical level, but it helps that Myr wasn't actually intending to connect.

That makes two of them, doesn't it? The chain is closer to L's own chest than to Myr.]

No. You're doing what you believe is right, and that doesn't warrant forgiveness, because your intentions aren't wrong.

[A foot slides back in a tense defensive stance. He has means to act, but no real desire, even as the SQUIP rages against other attackers at his back.]

Please stop trying to take it from me. Its intentions aren't wrong, either.

[cyclopticsadist]

[Niles' legs give out underneath him before he manage to get the charm breaker on her, but as the edges of his vision start to go dark he panics. His legs kick weakly, and he disjointedly drags his body in her direction. He just needs to get...a little closer.

Rich had told him to be non-lethal, a request Niles understood and respected. The people supporting the Squip here were not in their right minds. Roughing them up was fine, but he dove into this fray intending to avoid any lasting or permanent damage.


But she went there first. She's a regrettable casualty for sure, but between her life and his, Niles is choosing the selfish option. With one last burst of strength he whips his tail around and up, stinger aimed straight at Justine's chest..]

[plasticasshole]

[Connor sees that stinger about to hit Justine, and in a moment of pure panic he flings himself forward, grabbing hold of her and hugging her to him. At the same time that stinger hits him in the back, likely sending a small electric shock down the tail to Niles as it penetrates the plastic and hits a wire.

He feels relief even as he knows the stinger is lodged in his back. Even if it could have hurt him, he wouldn't have cared as long as Justine didn't have to die a painful death.]

Just... don't.

[She'll regret it when she isn't angry anymore. He knows she will. And he doesn't want that hanging over her along with her other demons. She has enough.]

[fromjapan]

[Its entire form is, truthfully, a weak point-- feral instinct and the drive to keep up in competition were the driving forces behind its change of shape, not any kind of logic or reason. Had it been in more of its right mind, it would've realized what a disadvantage such a shape would put it at... particularly as it can't seem to breathe fire.

Rich manages to catch it with his claws before it can move away, dragging thin, deep wounds across its belly; red blood spills over its vivid white skin and scales, and it falters in the air for a moment, surprised, before it rolls away from him again.

Pain. It hurts. But the pain only makes it angry, drags its feral instincts to the front, and it shouts in rage, more of a dragon's roar than anything else, and whips sharply around in the air to hurl its body towards him, claws and teeth and rage.]

[firewalled]

[Well, perhaps this dragon form isn't like the ones Rich has read about, the ones that are powerful and can shrug off nearly any damage, but are particularly weak in one certain spot. Rich is pretty sure that he didn't get lucky enough to find a weak spot this easy.

He's sickly satisfied, seeing the gashes across the SQUIP's side, but more satisfied with how angry it gets. Interesting that he's the one who was being called aggressive and violent, honestly.

It's a lot easier to dodge when your opponent is too upset to stop telegraphing its attack. Rich ducks down, flying beneath the SQUIP before swiping a back paw back at it. So long as he's careful, he can do this. He can wear the SQUIP down. He has to.]

[fromjapan]

[The next blow also connects, but the effect is much less severe-- it manages to roll aside, Rich's claws scraping over its scales without piercing them again.

And then it drops itself-- rams its body against his, attempting to catch some part, any part of Rich with its own claws, to return some of the damage that it's been dealt.

It isn't thinking at all anymore-- feral rage has overtaken any higher thinking, the SQUIP unit itself even somehow drowned out by the intense magic spreading through the air and coating their bodies. All that it can think of now is that it hurts, and that it is angry... and that Rich is its enemy.]