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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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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. ]
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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?
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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. ]
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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.]
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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
Suppose it goes a bit against the spirit of free will if humans don't occasionally make the poorest choice available.
RIP Crowley's mouth. It does not burn in vain, because the warning keeps Aziraphale (preoccupied seeing if he can perhaps send these vials to the bottom of the sea, or in any other way remove them from the equation) from stabbed. Which would have been embarrassing to do in front of his crush.
ykw. i forgot that writing action is my achilles heel, so picture a really poetic way to describe Aziraphale Goodomens one-shot headbutting a man to death. Not so much in a cool and collected way as a baffled "first thing he could think of doing because he really thought this would not happen" way. He bravely holds the line that keeps guards with access to holy goods away from the special-est demon in the world.
Why else would this guard be bothered, really, if not to clear the way to his intended target?
And then he sort of looks back to Crowley like ????? ?? He had every chance not to fuck that up, right, I was very clear? ]
They were much more civilized when they had to line up with muskets.
[ God Herself could not force him to engage with any vulnerable emotions about this. He's living on a broadcast delay right now. ]
cw angel on human violence that crowley is NOT being normal about
Only to pull up short as he watches Aziraphale headbutt the guard. Angels are built of sturdy stuff and it's obvious in how the man crumples to the ground that he's never getting up again. It lacks the fury of the chokeslam from a second ago; Aziraphale looks more confused than anything. Trust him to have expected the best from someone.
He's torn between wanting to tear the guard about like tissue paper, just to be certain that he's truly dead, and wanting to make sure that Aziraphale is alright.
The latter wins.]
Seems the humans are as stupid as they are awful.
[Not a surprising combination, frankly.
His voice is soft, though, and he brings his head down close to Aziraphale. Closer than he's been up until this point, wanting to keep the teeth away from him, makes it easier to avoid any kind of temptation.
But there's something about it that feels a little safer, too. He couldn't touch him shaped like a human, not without it being noteworthy, but there's distance granted by being in the shape of a beast. A kind of plausible deniability. An excuse.
So he nudges Aziraphale's chest with the tip of his snout, under the pretense of checking that he isn't hurt.
If he miracles away the blood while he's at it, that's only because the other option was trying to lick it off.]
You alright, angel?
i for one don't blame him
On the other hand, he-- feels a way. About this. Right now. The softness and the cleanup and the contact. Sort of a messy, writhing lump at the base of his throat, where most of the things that he doesn't let himself say tend to get stuck. Ridiculous. Dreadful.
If nothing else, at least it's a nicer option out of all the ways to be feeling away. ]
Of course. [ He cannot, in fact, keep himself from looking a bit fond. Despite everything. If Crowley didn't want to be regarded fondly to his face, maybe he shouldn't have acted like Aziraphale deserves to be handled with care and then gotten close? Food for thought.
Silly thing. ]
You were right here.
[ You were here, you saw for yourself. You were here, so of course I was going to be alright. Open and shut, simple math. Much more simple than the math of wondering if it would be too forward to touch the snout. It probably would be. He'll see where he lands. ]
i mean, who could?
He wants hands again, so he can touch Aziraphale, but he knows that he wouldn't dare cross that line even if he were able. It's easier to lift his head just enough to nudge against Aziraphale's shoulder in a gesture that could be called a nuzzle, if someone wanted to lose a limb.
Violence is complicated. He knows it bothers Aziraphale in a different way than it would bother a human. It isn't so much about the loss of life. It's about feeling that he ought to hold himself to a higher standard.]
I'd have done much worse.
[If Aziraphale hadn't killed him first.
It would've been astronomically worse if the man had managed to hurt Aziraphale, before Crowley could get his teeth into him. They'd have heard the screams back at the North Pole.
He hesitates for a second, though he still hasn't pulled away.]
Maybe we ought to head back to the Pole, if they're carrying holy weapons.
[It's... unpleasant, the implication that he might be worried about being destroyed, but it's one more thing that's worth the sacrifice. He doesn't really care that much. But this is a way to get Aziraphale away from the violence, without him having to actually suggest that he wants to get Aziraphale away from the violence.
Making it about himself is the simplest way to get what he wants.]
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You say that like I wouldn't look after you.
[ Aziraphale's not actually offended. He's just reconciling the fact that he... probably is going to agree, against how wrong it might feel to leave the rest of the Guardians to it.
How much balances out if he knows that, knowing there could be more holy weapons-- stronger ones at that-- he'll only want to stay near Crowley regardless? That's always the priority. The most important thing.
It just.
Gets to be a bit more openly a priority, in this place. They can just go. Hit the bricks. Etc.
It's a lot to risk on the premise that Aziraphale would catch onto every single threat all night, beyond a shadow of a doubt. He can't even see into all the rooms here on any plane. They're blank spots. ]
You would tell me if the telephone says they need us back?
[ What's he going to do, check the network himself??? When Crowley is around?? Please. This infernal device is for demon checking only. ]
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Though it does delay his response by a moment or two as his brain has to reboot; it's different than Aziraphale being tucked under his wing while moving about. That served a purpose, it was an excuse to be in contact, but there's no functional reason for Aziraphale to lay a hand on his snout aside from — affection, comfort, the sorts of things that angels shouldn't want from demons, no matter how long they've been friends. It isn't that much of a surprise that it's wanted, Crowley isn't entirely stupid, but it's a surprise that Aziraphale is allowing himself the indulgence.
Maybe being away from their Earth and all its trappings really has made a difference.]
You know that's hardly what I meant.
[This whole day has been a rollercoaster of emotions and Aziraphale all but admitting that he's concerned with Crowley's safety is just another thing to add to the pile. Like the touch, it isn't the fact of the matter that surprises him, but putting it out into the open when they've spent so long hiding behind carefully worded excuses.]
'Course, and we'll be of plenty use back at the Pole, I've seen at least a dozen injured myths being sent there.
[Aziraphale and Crowley have more of an ability to heal than some of the others stuck here; he thinks it'll help alleviate any guilt if he reminds Aziraphale that he can still be helpful in another capacity. It isn't running away, they're just making themselves available where they'll be more useful.]
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Aziraphale can't pretend he's never wondered. Worried.
But Crowley knows, and Crowley lets him touch his face, and Crowley indulges his dithering like he always does, and Aziraphale loves him. Crowley remains both un-smote and un-dragged down to be destroyed by Hell despite it. Gosh. It's more than anyone could ask for. Were it not for the mortal dangers, he could stand here like this all night. ]
I would hate to see the infirmary overrun in all this. [ Have they not suffered enough... he ought to make sure Counselor Price is safely there and accounted for anyway, really, or he's not much of a moral shepherd. ] Back the way we came?
[ Can giant demon Crowley even execute that kind of a U-turn? This is the real question curious minds want to pose. ]
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Maybe he ought to spend more time as a serpent.]
It'd be a terrible shame.
[The poor infirmary, they've done nothing wrong.
Crowley is proud of himself for navigating this interaction; it's always nice when he manages to convince Aziraphale to do the thing that he actually wanted to do and not whatever he thought A Proper Angel should do. Even better when it's something important at stake, like his safety.
There is, however, a small bump in the road of their return.]
Not sure I can manage that without pulling myself back together. [Which he'll do, as soon as they're out of immediate danger.] You got any snowglobes left?
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He makes a note to self that supersize Crowley is not built for quick turnabouts. Probably he could have guessed it judging by the fresh claw marks from Crowley's attempt to get over here pre-murder. Consider: Aziraphale didn't pay that much attention. ]
I'm sure I do. [ Time to root around in the bag of holding AKA the thing that will help fill the void of missing his cluttered-ass mystical bookshop. ] And... Bob's your uncle. Or so they say.
[ Whoever they are. He takes the liberty of giving the snoot an extra semi-distracted pat once he's got the snowglobe fished out. It'll be fine. It will. They'll still be helping, and Crowley will be out of harm's way. The definition of fine. ]
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But he can't exactly return to the North Pole looking this monstrous, not if he doesn't want to scare a bunch of humans and elves. Getting back into his human shape is going to be exhausting, though, and he's not sure if he should expend too much energy since they really should help with any healing.
A simpler form might be better.]
Gimme a moment. [And then, because he's going to be the bravest demon in the world, he adds:] Keep your arm still.
[He lifts his head from beneath Aziraphale's hand to rest the tip of his chin on the angel's shoulder, his neck pressed against his arm. It gives him something to hold onto as he shrinks back down, pulling in wings and claws and limbs. The embers tucked under his scales start to fade, the faint glow disappearing until his scales are left black and red, the weight of his body resting on Aziraphale's arm.
At about seven feet long, he won't be too cumbersome to Aziraphale, once he slithers his way up to drape over his shoulders, his tail wrapped around his bicep under the pretense of not wanting to fall off.
Being a snake is easier than being a person.]
Alright, m'ready.
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10/10, honestly. Sensorily speaking. Big mood lifter. ]
I'll try to scuff the workshop's floors in your place.
[ No he won't. He just snowglobes them both away with no such plans. ]
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Much appreciated, angel.
[The workshop floors deserve scuffing, obviously.
If he coils a little tighter around Aziraphale during the snowglobing, it's only to make sure he doesn't get flung off during transit and end up Satan-knows-where.]
You can pop me down if I'm too heavy.
[He has to make the offer, but he doesn't actually want to be put down. This leaves room for Aziraphale to tell him that it's no bother, if he also wants to keep close.]
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[ The only heavy thing here is the weight of Aziraphale's regard, which he bears gladly and across the span of linear existence. He would carry Crowley until the seams frayed out of this physical corporation somehow and then he would find a way to keep carrying him after. Even if he really were too heavy. Literally nothing could change his mind.
What does he look like? Gabriel??? God????? Okay Aziraphale doesn't namedrop God in his insulting comparison mind hissyfit. That would absolutely constitute a thought crime.
But wow rude (opposite of rude: highly considerate and Aziraphale maybe knows it). Shoulders jail for a thousand years. That's feasible, surely. ]
Now you're just being silly. Stay put. I'm perfectly capable.
[ The end, a perfect plan for a local demon's care and keeping. ]
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