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BEYOND THE SHADOW YOU SETTLE FOR ❅ PART 2
BEYOND THE SHADOW YOU SETTLE FOR
Alarms blare and red alert lights flash and illuminate hallways. The intruders have either escaped the traps or avoided them altogether and are invading.
It still won't be easy for the Guardians. There are armed checkpoints to overcome and giant security doors to figure out how to unlock or break through.
Once they're past the initial security checkpoints, the place is a maze of hallways that contain cells with captured myths that need to be freed (some friendly and some unfriendly), offices with computers and tablets that can be hacked or stolen, science labs with myths being experimented on and technomagical devices of unknown purpose, archival rooms with useful (and potentially cursed) tomes and artifacts, and storage rooms with the plundered belongings of many myths captured over time.
Some of the magical artifacts and Prometheus devices can be used against their forces and used to help the captured myths.
For those that would like to be extra helpful and let others know where security forces are congregating (or to cause a little chaos) several redundant security rooms have screens showing video from closed circuit monitoring. Provided they knock out the guards in each room, they can potentially maneuver them to consoles for the fingerprint panels and retinal scanners that would allow them to unlock cell doors on many of the cell blocks.
Given that the the master unlock for all cells requires the base's Director's security bypass, it'll be useful if several groups do this if they want to mass unlock all the cell blocks.
Some captured myths will also have to be comforted. Others may need to be chased as they escape their cells, rush past, and go on a rampage.
And of course the myths will have to figure out what to do with the escaping staff that isn't security, all of them running for exit stairways and elevators to the outside world or to escape magical portals, whatever's closest and ensures the best chance of survival. Some of these staff members are simple office drones, handling the minutiae and bureaucracy of a large organization like this. Others are even lower on the organizational ladder, like the janitorial staff. But some like the base leadership, scientists, and guards, have a much more active hand in the treatment of the captured myths.
The more aggressive escaped myths will make a beeline for the base staff, to go after them in revenge. The Guardians will have to figure out what they want to do in response.
In any case, there are myths to be freed, artifacts to be pilfered, intel to be gathered, and decisions to be made.
This base of Project Prometheus is going down.
OOC PLOTTING POST
❅ Format: Use prose or actionspam as desired.
❅ Environment: Please feel free to use the plot as an open and flexible environment, and simply ask for anything the requires specifics or might affect the full facility so the mod can provide accurate intel and keep track of the evolving situation during the plot. Players should feel free to largely do what they want. If they want to access and manipulate certain aspects of security, question Prometheus npcs, information gather from captured myth PCs, etc, they can request to do so.
❅ NPCing: This part of the plot will have limited mod npcing, for moments people decide to do in the plot, like getting info from Prometheus npcs or breaking into and messing with security. There will be a thread to request either npcing or information to use in self-npcing from the mod. The mod will decide whether to npc or if players can just self-npc with provided info. The mod will automatically comment in after each round of PC tags unless asked to pause for more PC tags. The mod will use prose for npcing but players don't have to match.
❅ Powers: Now that they've escaped the trap rooms, everyone's powers will work as normal and all their devices and artifacts like the globes will work.
❅ Myths: You can assume rescued myths match their RL myth counterparts. If I need to use a myth later on and make them different from what's been established, we can handwave there are just variations within the same type of myths sometimes. The only thing I'd like to limit is two things:
1) Using some of the big individual myths in mythology in case they need to be used later or I have plans for them. Specific gods and named folk figures, etc. But myths that are just general, like general nymphs, brownies, fae, etc, you can kinda go ham with.
2) Try to be respectful and avoid using myths that still feature heavily into IRL belief systems and cultures like wendigo. Please be thoughtful and maybe do a quick google about whether something would be offensive. There are plenty of other myths from ancient societies to use with less baggage, like creatures from Greek mythology.
❅ Collars: Rescued myths will have power blocking collars that need to be broken or the rune design on them must be scratched when they're freed, to give their powers back.
❅ Resources: Elle will be their man in the chair acting as a coordinator for the mission on the games. Players can handwave that important information was conveyed to or from Elle.
Mini-globes: Mini snow globes the size of marbles will have been given to everyone to use to transport myths out as well as emergency transport to the Pole. For those who don't carry storage with their normal outfits, they'll have been given fanny packs to carry them.
Devices: Courtesy of Miguel, there are mini bombs; spy bots that can fly and scout ahead, transmitting video to their comms; and elemental handheld devices can use to cause localized effects of extreme freeze or extreme heat. The latter is hot enough to melt the door looks to the thick cell doors.
Magic crystals: These can float over the hand to guide the Guardians towards other myths, as well as provide the location of their home habitats so Guardians can tell the snowglobes to right location to transport them home.
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Maybe he can swing by the Isle of Skye and pick up some Talisker while he's there.
The lack of athleticism isn't an issue when it's a well-contained target; Crowley watches Aziraphale carefully as the snowglobe does its thing, just in case he's close enough to get dragged in. The only thing that happens is the Nuckelavee disappearing off to Orkney.
It's a relief.]
Now will you go back into the library?
[It can't hurt to try again.]
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There's no way Crowley is-- getting tired of his company and trying not to say so, now that they've been able to spend so much more time with each other? Surely? Despite having other options??? The honeymoon isn't over before Aziraphale has even managed to woo him, let alone put a human marriage on the table?
No. Well. Not yet, at least. No.
It's less annoyance than agitation that Crowley's putting out. Bit of strain, bit of being frightened and cross about having to feel frightened.
Aziraphale gets an inkling. But it's a ridiculous inkling, he personally thinks. ]
If that's the tone you're taking about it, no. I think I won't. [ He sets his jaw and lifts his chin in standard "being a stubborn old goat about something" practice. He'd flounce into a chair if he had one.
Even if he really would like to get back up to his elbows in reading material to figure out what's most worth bringing back to the North Pole. It's a matter of priorities. ]
If that's causing any issue for you, of course, you're quite welcome to tell me.
[ But he sees no burning of flesh or spirit caused by his very proximity in the meantime.
Which is a bit relieving itself. ]
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Stupid, stubborn angel.]
Look at me.
[At the horror of him; scales and claws and burning embers. The scent of a just-lit match and something sharper, ozone but not, the scent that would cling to an angel, but twisted and wrong. A physical manifestation of all the awful, cloying, cruel things that Crowley holds in himself, because that's what a demon is, no matter how much time he spends around humans, no matter how much he distances himself from Hell.
Wanting is a cruel, ugly thing, too. He understands that Aziraphale loves him, but he can't — he wouldn't understand, the way Crowley wants.
He doesn't want to say this. He needs to say this.]
You're not safe from me, angel.
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He feels out of his depth, if he's being honest with himself just this once. He doesn't want to make Crowley properly upset or frightened or angry, of course, he never wants that if he can help it. Only he doesn't--
He doesn't feel right about leaving him, either. For myriad reasons.
Oh, he's never been very good at these things. ]
I'm always looking at you. [ That's safe enough to say, he thinks. True in every sense that it can be true, but plausibly deniable as a very dense, oblivious thing someone would say to someone else. A verbal exit sign, an option. ] It's how I know I'm as safe from you as you are from me.
[ Net zero. Push and pull. It's just the mathematics of the thing, isn't it? As much as he feels like he's missing something, that's still true. ]
Are you that worried that you'll try something?
[ Try being the operative word. ]
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I'm always looking at you. Said like some mild comment on the weather and not a sentence that shakes Crowley down to his core. I'm always looking at you. For fuck's sake. Crowley has to wonder whether he understands what he's saying, if Aziraphale knows what it does to him, when he gives him this hope. Does he realize how easily he alights on the one thing to say that underlines everything Crowley wants?
If nothing else had been said, he could have taken the time to tuck those words away somewhere into his useless heart for safekeeping, but he can't even have that.
How is he supposed to answer that question? Without giving too much away? He might as well cut himself open like an offering, let Aziraphale play haruspex for the evening. He can read the confessions in viscera. It would be less mortifying than speaking them aloud.]
Fine.
[So he doesn't.]
Where you you like to go, then?
[He can't win the fight when he can't even articulate his side of the argument, so there's no damn point in trying.]
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Humans who deal with the supernatural are more likely to have some sort of holy materiel on hand than anything else, in his experience. He's better equipped to intercept those sorts of things. ]
Much obliged. [ And as a token of gratitude for his favorite person in the universe indulging him yet again, he won't say now come and stay cooped up in the archival room with me. Aziraphale, personally, could think of far worse things than being cooped up with Crowley in any form. But he has to imagine that Crowley would find that too-- claustrophobic right now. Given his safety concerns.
So Aziraphale can always circle back to books and artifacts later. Right now he's all out of the snippiness that he stepped out here with. ]
Let's make certain all the cells on this block have been properly evacuated, shall we?
[ That's useful and worth doing. Something that can be focused on. Lots of corridors and open air. ]
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He can't quite keep himself from a series of annoyed grumbles, a byproduct of this form, but he starts moving anyway, snaking his head through the corridor first, frowning to himself as a thought occurs.]
Do you — [Another grumble, this one replacing the sort of hum he'd normally rely on in order to by himself time.] D'you think you could hop on without it hurting? Might be safer if you're close.
[If Aziraphale is going to insist on staying nearby, the least Crowley can do is keep him from getting snatched out from under him by something terrible.
It'll test his own self-control, but that's... fine. It's fine. He can handle it.]
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All the fuss he's ever kicked up about not being nice or kind or good, but here he slithers, being bothered to worry about Aziraphale's safety. Of all things. Fussing, even, one could almost say. Could definitely say. Might say later, if they still have that drink, just to see him make a face.
There's something about it. Might be safer if you're close. It wedges in somewhere behind Aziraphale's ribcage, a not-unpleasant bubble. ]
You make a fair point.
[ He thinks that it might actually be true in this world, is the thing. Unequivocally. That they're safer together than apart. Safer to feel safe with Crowley. To work to try to keep Crowley safe. For the first time, the impulse and the feelings don't well up the same hypothetical worries as usual. They don't even have Heaven or Hell here.
Not that-- not that he would ever feel unsafe about Heaven. Not for his own sake. Obviously. He's an angel. He only ever regards Heaven as safe, in the grand scheme of things.
It's just that knowing Heaven is safe is functionally the same as his understanding that Heaven has always loved him.
So this really is nice, he thinks. The Crowley version of feeling secure has always been his favorite version. ]
Only if it doesn't hurt you, mind. [ He always has room for a little bit of worrying no matter how many other worries he's not having to deal with. ] You'll feel a hand in a moment. It's only me.
[ Aziraphale even gives Crowley a few moments to register words before he lays a careful experimental hand on him. So considerate wow. Better to test than to jump on the offer full-boar, after all. If he did real damage, he'd never forgive himself. ]
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But it's the best option, despite being stupid. He'll handle whatever physical or emotional effects come from having Aziraphale this close when he's shed his human shape. Better than Aziraphale getting hurt.
So he drops down as low as he can, lifting a wing with the clear intention that Aziraphale should find a spot beneath it, since that will be the most protected spot.]
S'fine, angel, it's not going to hurt. [It doesn't, not really. The second that Aziraphale lays a hand on him, he knows it would be easier if it simply hurt. It sings, instead. A low buzz under his skin that he's never going to forget.] See? No one's exploded.
[It isn't as though he's going to admit that he likes it.]
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[ 😐
Fine he'll just go back to worrying and fussing internally then. (A lie.) Why is Crowley never exactly as concerned about Crowley as he is!
But fine. No harm has been done. That's a relief. So Aziraphale will oblige and climb aboard, up under Crowley's lifted wing. And he will bravely resist the desire to play with Crowley's feathers. Or groom them or basically anything that would mean getting to have his hands on them for a while.
Because he is very polite. ]
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Once he feels Aziraphale is secure, he tucks his wing properly around him and starts down the hall, claws clacking on the concrete.]
Are you going to fuss if I eat any humans?
[Best to know ahead of time, since he can dispose of them non-lethally if Aziraphale is going to be a baby about it.]
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They're both very normal and calm about all this, really. ]
I would prefer that you don't eat any humans, yes. [ If it's unavoidable for Crowley's well-being at some point, he'll leave that shade of wiggle room about it. ] They're hardly worth going to all that trouble.
[ Eating humans... won't enjoy a lovely tiramisu at a nice cafe but he'll go on a raid and eat humans even though they're bound to taste terrible. Rude. ]
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Miracles are what's trouble. Teeth are easy.
[He can knock them out or teleport them away with magic, but magic isn't as free to use here as it was back home, and since he's already in this shape, his teeth and claws are essentially free to use as he wants.]
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Aziraphale considers this for a couple of moments, quiet in his little super special nestled-in zone for super special angels only. Sort of weighs things out in the grand scheme as they pertain to the only real priority: what's likely to keep Crowley reliably safest through the night. ]
I suppose I could hardly be cross about self-defense measures. Most of them aren't a pleasant sort. [ They pull arms off of creatures and use them as puzzles in little trap rooms. If there's moral wiggle room, it's barely detectable.
In any case, Crowley would hardly go out of his way to target humans who weren't doing harm (or trying to). He'll have his own priorities. ]
If you could-- [ It's silly, probably, to make requests. Selfish. Crowley didn't want him along in the first place. And Crowley is Crowley, so it probably doesn't need to be requested at all.
But Aziraphale's started the statement, so he sort of needs to finish the statement. ] Try not to draw it out.
[ There are already too many sounds happening, many of which are sounds of suffering. A little mercy, as a treat.
Plus, also, importantly, Aziraphale simply personally doesn't want to hear the extended cut anyway. Gross. ]
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They've been torturing sentient beings for months, if not years.
[A pleasant sort. This is the kind of bullshit that Hell would think acceptable, or maybe it's worse, because at least in Hell there's an argument to be made that the souls trapped down there deserve their fate.
No one could say the same for some of the myths trapped here.]
It'll be as quick and painless as possible. M'not an animal.
[He isn't going to play with his food. Inspiring a little terror can be satisfying, especially when he's inspiring that terror in people who deserve it, but he isn't here to toy with shitty humans.
It's a rescue mission. He can stay focused.]
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Well, at least they're in agreement. Always good to be on the same page. ]
No. No, of course you're not. [ Awkward gay pat of probably-apology. Or support. Or something. ] Fussing a bit, I suppose.
[ What's more worth fussing over than anything that's going on with Crowley? Nothing. Not right now, certainly.
Something just feels-- off. Unsafe. Somewhere. It's difficult to pinpoint how, still. He probably shouldn't be channeling that into nitpicking how Crowley does unpleasant and necessary business. Will Aziraphale remember that next time they're in a similar situation? Almost definitely not. ]
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How unlike you.
[Nothing with stop him from being a sarcastic little bitch, not even God Herself.]
Would you like to complain about the claw marks I've left on the floors?
[It's said as a joke, because it is a joke, but it's also...
He knows that Aziraphale tends to fuss as an outlet for anxiety, so it's also an offer to have that outlet. Something meaningless to complain about so he doesn't have to think about whatever's actually bothering him.]
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Ever reliable, it's surely still there.
Bold words for a serpent who frequently hovers in kissing range. ]
Have I ever told you you're a dreadful tease? [ Gottem. Time to immediately open his mouth again and prove Crowley right. ] Besides, I don't think they're very likely to leave this facility standing. It's a moot point.
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Never hurts to hear it again.
[There's a little bit of a thrill at Aziraphale being so casually bitchy with him, the way he's always delighted when Aziraphale is casually bitchy at him. It makes him hope that he's loosening up a bit, getting more comfortable around him, not worrying so much about pretenses.]
I had wondered about that. Doesn't seem much of a good idea to leave this laying around.
['Laying around' isn't really the right way to put it, but he knows that Aziraphale will understand what he means. There's nothing stopping Prometheus from attempting to open up this facility again, or clearing out anything useful that the Guardians don't take.
Bringing it all down seems more sensible, if more destructive.]
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Definitely not. The less they can access again, the better. [ There's a Necronomicon in this building. It's fucking wild. Maybe some of that is a Principality's natural predilection to try to keep knowledge out of human hands.
Although it is a shame to think of just how many books and artifacts are going to be left behind to crumble. Aziraphale is trying not to think about that at all. ]
A lot to do with computers, I think. [ It's distracted, a pointless little add-on, his favorite type of add-on. And just as quickly: ] Stop here.
[ Everything is fine and there's nothing wrong no particular reason nothing Crowley needs to deal with, just stop right now right here please and thank you, the manners part of which he forgot. Aziraphale feels very strongly for Reasons that he should maybe scout this next section of corridor personally. ]
no subject
One of the science ones will likely handle it.
[More importantly, Aziraphale says stop. No please, no pre-emptive thank you, and the lack of manners is enough to have Crowley immediately complying with the request, going so far as to drop down low, teeth-bared against a threat that he assumes is coming.]
What is it, angel?
no subject
Nothing. [ Well. ] I mean, something. But it's nothing. Stay here, I'll sort it, won't be two ticks.
[ Aziraphale disengages from his metaphorical sidecar, stumbling a little on the dismount in his haste. There he goes. Power-walking away like an alerted guard dog with no further fanfare.
There's something holy afoot. Ahead, rather. Possibly only blessed, not holy-holy. The last puzzle piece of that strange increasing itch that's been with him, though, that terrible urgency.
He needs, he thinks, to start paying more active attention to these things. Work them out sooner. He's seen what holy water can do to a demon in full detail, now. The pain it causes, the time it takes, the way it eventually leaves no-- no trace. (He's seen the way that some humans will lay out their little traps and feelers in places like these.) One of his oldest fears reinforced.
No, he's been much too lax about these things already. Never again. (Crowley is, sometimes, only as safe as Aziraphale can make him. Especially when he's in a form that makes him a larger target to aim for.)
Which is a lot of narrative preamble to the part where a guard rounds the corner and Aziraphale straight-up chokeslams them, but this is an Aziraphale narration so sometimes it has to circle the point a little bit. Imagine being 6'4" and getting bodied by Aziraphale. Like he just starts throwing hands. Embarrassing. ]
no subject
It hits him right before Aziraphale hits the guard.
Something holy.
Crowley's eyes go wide, more due to the chokeslam than the holiness; the inhuman growl that he lets out is the response reserved for whatever holy thing this man is carrying.
The demon-thing that Crowley is wants to see Aziraphale tear this human apart with his bare hands, but he reigns in that instinct, too.]
Angel.
[Low, gentle. A reminder not to do anything he can't undo.
They've both killed plenty of humans; it used to happen all the time, especially during war, but he knows it isn't fun, and he doesn't want Aziraphale to regret this.]
no subject
Violence is easy. It always has been. Against humans, it's practically child's play.
Aziraphale just doesn't like it. Doesn't want to have to deal in it, in the grand scheme, which is maybe selfish of him. Maybe. It is selfish. He knows that.
Crowley tops a short list of things that are worth it, though, if nothing else. Crowley makes the top of quite a lot of lists of things that mean ignoring wants for the sake of needs.
(What would he do, if he knew beyond doubt that he could never hear Crowley gently call him angel again?
He truly doesn't know.)
Crowley won't be disappointed in him either way, he doesn't think. There isn't a wrong choice. Just a choice. A reminder that there is a choice this time.
No point making Crowley fuss about him if he's already got this situation handled. Not for only one guard. He doesn't need the added distraction.
Aziraphale pastes on some approximation of a polite smile. ]
I'm going to take what you're carrying in your front left pocket, and then you're going to leave. That's all that needs to happen, isn't it?
[ All very reasonable. All very professional. Aziraphale even waits for a nod before fishing two vials of holy anointing oil out of that very pocket, because he's polite. And professional.
That's all that needs to happen.
Isn't it?
If Aziraphale feels any guilt or shame about this already, no he doesn't. He's repressing it as fast as it can well up, the way God intended. ]
Mercy was more of a human invention in my reality, you know. [ Not a natural resource in Heaven. Unheard of in Hell. At least in the way Aziraphale prefers to wield it. ] You're a very lucky person.
[ Enjoy a remaining lifetime knowing the demon you would have destroyed basically gifted it to you. However long that lifetime is. There are certainly some very justified myths in this facility who don't have interest in mercy right now.
But that isn't Aziraphale's responsibility because he doesn't like this human. :)
He lets the guard fall, just to be a bitch about it, and takes a measured step backwards towards Crowley. He feels better knowing he's blocking that route off a bit. Local guard can have exactly one (1) chance not to fuck this up. ]
i feel like there needs to be a cw on this tag but hell if i know what it'd be
It sparks momentary panic before logic catches up and reminds him that if it were angel blood, even the blood of an angel's corporation, he would know in a way that's far different than tasting the scent of it. Aziraphale made the human blood. If Crowley focuses, he can tell it's on his hands.
Crowley decides not to think too hard about the fact he wants to lick it off his fingers. That particularly impulse is going to be locked away very carefully in a box with do not open scrawled on it.
The appearance of the anointed oil serves as the perfect distraction, earning a low hiss once he realizes what it is that Aziraphale's taken from the human.]
Idiots.
[That likely wouldn't have destroyed it, but it certainly would have pissed him off.
He's going to say more, to approach under the assumption that Aziraphale has handled the guard, before he catches a hint of movement.]
Aziraphale—!
[The name fills his mouth with flame again. He barely notices.]
out here like cw blood and that gomez+morticia vibe
cw angel on human violence that crowley is NOT being normal about
i for one don't blame him
i mean, who could?
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