2013.10.24 - The Ad Hoc Muir Island Magical Intervention Squad

Any time the four -- or five or six depending on various penance ducks and/or imps, but four including the flying unicorn -- spend in the air over Kinross land is biting cold. It's October past the Ides and the latitude is relatively obscene, if anyone should ask Pete Wisdom. (No one does, but he says so anyway, repeatedly.) There's a frigid wind buffetting the little island, which at its most populous is home to no more than twelve people and approximately seven thousand seabirds.
Everything is grey.
The grey stony cliffs hammered by the grey sea, the grey mist and sea spray that curl about the rocks and the grey grass, the whitish-grey research facility built into and on top of the miserable little island, the grey-and-white birds, the brooding grey sky-- it's like a high tech Dickens novel, and there's a landing pad obviously designed for VTOL in what's presumably the front of the visible part of the complex.
 
Flying on a unicorn is a surreal experience. Real flying unicorns are nothing like how they portray them in fiction. The ride is eerily smooth and supernaturally fast, the land speeding underneath them at a fantastic rate. The wind doesn't even bother. Rain, as long as she rides nearby, is extended this velocity and protection.
Even then, Amethyst had to open giant glittering portals through a hazy, foggy dimension filled with looming shapes. She had told everyone to keep quiet then and let her concentrate. On the other side is Muir island.
"Ohmygod Pete, fine, I'll turn the thermostat down. Happy?" Amethyst, shining in royal raiment, gestures with her free hand while holding the reins with the other. Warmth spreads invisibly, the cold magically thwarted. That is like one of the first spells people invented.
Her unicorn, wings spread and legs tucked underneath, glides to the VTOL landing pad. Its brilliant white hair and golden armor war with the dour surroundings, to say nothing of its chromatic liege. Amethyst, her mist silk ribbon snapping smartly behind her, dismounts and crosses her arms. "Should you go first? I've never done this paramilitary freedom fighters thing before. I'm guessing they're going to be twitchy."
Kwabena Odame has not had the time to change out of his X-Men uniform. The garment is made of unstable molecules, the thick fabric designed to cling to his skin and morph with the same chemical changes that take place when his X-Gene turns flesh and bone to smoke, liquid, and other fantastic states of matter. However, today, the uniform is torn, tattered, and burnt in many places, exposing his already sickly form to the harsh cold.
That being said? He's found a very warm, very thick coat and pants, each a drab off-white in color, each bearing the ubiquitous X-enclosed-in-a circle emblem of the X-Men. The garments fend himself from the bitter cold, its insulated hood covering his bald head as he walks out toward the edge of that landing pad. In his left hand he carries a set of high-tech, multi-spectral binoculars, and over his right shoulder is carried a high-calibre tactile rifle.
The binoculars come up to his eyes. Beneath them, chapped lips are curled into an expression of pensive distaste. Distaste for the cold, for the illness that's stricken he and his teammates, and for the unnerving suspicion that something is bound to go terribly wrong.
And then, he spies the incoming party, and his lips part in a silent gasp of shock.
LOG NOTE: tactical rifle
Poor Kwabena. Rain is not going to bring any of her pets, though there's likely someone who can take care of them. She doesn't really tell folks about her robot roommate from the future. Not really. She'll probably respect the unicorn and ride her broomstick. Though, she's bundled up with a heavy winter coat and scarf over her usual. She resembles a penguin on a stick more than any graceful flying creature. She'll probably remember she has magic to use at some point, though hers requires concentration and she tends not to chance it. Probably now and then. She is at least, wise enough to bundle a couple of blankets on the broomstick. Because seriously.
She is also sensible enough to be nearby for velocity and protection. She CAN go pretty fast but it's a lot like riding a motorcycle and high speeds are thrilling, if a bit stomach sinking. "Hopefully not too twitchy."
 
"Happiness is for people standing on the ground at a reasonable distance south of the arctic circle," Pete mutters, but he hasn't actually been cursing most of the way, so he can't actually be as miserable as their surroundings. When they land, Pete scrambles off the unicorn a step behind Amethyst, then -- rather like a cat -- settles his hackles a few steps away. Only he lights a cigarette instead of washing his face. Once it's lit, he says, "Probably," and starts toward the doors. Things start clicking and whirring and ratcheting to take aim. "Wisdom, Peter," he calls out ahead, "citing entry override Excalibur Golf Tango Foxtrot Oscar. Let us the fuck in."
No, he hasn't seen Shift, Shift is all binocularing them. The blast doors hum to life.
Amethyst makes a show of inspecting her fingernails. She keeps them short and doesn't have them painted while in fairy princess mode, but proper nail health for everyone.
"Should I have not been listening to that?" she asks, ribbon whirling about her in the mystically blunted arctic wind. "I like the Excalibur bit, though. Very fitting."
Lowering the binoculars, Kwabena replaces them with a mask from within his coat. He fixes the mask over his face, wincing slightly as it pinches his ears and seals itself, creating a barrier between his exhaled breath and the world around him. Part of the island's quarantine protocols, to be sure. He's still a relatively safe distance away, but regardless, he retrieves a small aerosol can and begins blasting the air about him with some kind of blue mist. He's already trudging across the frozen ground, headed in the direction of the landing pad and those blast doors that Pete is trying to gain access to.
Out next comes a small communicator. Not surprisingly, it's shaped in a small, palm-sized circle, with its controls embedded upon a stylized X. He lifts it to his mask, and when he speaks into it, his voice comes across as somewhat filtered. Not exactly Darth Vader here, but more Cybermen than anything.
"Shift. Confirm access code. Maintain quarantine protocol."
A voice in the blast doors finally greets Pete. "Access granted. Quarantine protocols active." The doors begin to open slowly.
A click, and Kwabena's voice comes out of that same speaker. "Wisdom, quarantine protocols are active. Don't get too antsy, it's gonna lock you inside for a moment. I'm on my way."
Rain agrees. Man, it's cold. Or at least it's fairly cold when she makes sure she's flying steady and balancing both spells. But she follows closely. She even brought a couple of blankets. One's a more usual style, the other a plushie throw blanket with jack-o-lanterns. Giant. Freaking. Stereotypes. Or sales. Both. She doesn't really comment on the code to get in. But her scarf flutters in the wind just a touch. That's how scarves do. Either way, Rain has freaking blankets and is following. "Huh." Oh wait. Was she about to get shot? Well, good to know the sense of self preservation is back to close to normal.
 
"Neh. Only works for me, voiceprint plus Cerebro or sommat, I don't know," Pete says to Amethyst, waving a hand around dismissively. "Allons-y, Rain, it's fine." He goes to step through into what's essentially the airlock, leading the two women in with him--
--but not before a red LED shines brightly as he gets to the threshold. Through the same speaker over which the computer system and Shift had just been speaking, the crackly recording of a Scotswoman's voice plays irritably. "Nae smokin' in ma labs, ye filthy Sassenach!"
Okay, now Pete curses. "Fucking harridan's not even here," he mutters, flicking the cigarette outside and then going in. "Yeah, yeah," he calls irritably to wherever Shift's speakering at them from.
"You know," Amethyst begins thoughtfully, her attention having drifted away from the assuredly boring security sequence, "everyone always flips out about magic, but this is pretty much the exact same thing. Look, we're in a remote hideout guarded by misdirection, the door only opens for the right person with the right phrase, disembodied voices harassing you in weird dialects."
The princess leans forward and lowers her voice. "This Shift guy. Is he the Odame that's been in the news?"
A thick glass wall has blocked the arriving party from the rest of the compound. On the other side, a hatch opens up, and Shift walks in. Apparently, the room beyond is considered 'contaminated'. Flashing red lights and LCD panels here and there with the word 'QUARANTINE' in bright red make that pretty clear.
Shift unseals the mask with a pinch and a snap, his sickly face visibly discomforted by the whole debacle. He walks up toward that glass wall, and can't help but form a smirk. His mis-matched eyes dance from Amaya first, then to Rain, and finally to Pete.
Whatever they were saying goes unnoticed until he reaches out to open a comm link into the airlock. And yeah... he's still got that thousand yard stare, though it's worth noting that the rifle has been discarded.
Rain stifles a giggle at Amethyst's observation. "Yeah, it is pretty odd." She seems to agree on it all. She glances around. She pauses, noticing Shift. Though, she smiles at his smirk. She meets his eyes with her own. But soon blinks and looks away. Mad Engineer Social Skills. She does keep the blankets in her arms, perhaps noticing the man's torn up uniform. She will wait then, to speak. Though, she smiles faintly to Pete.
 
"Could be. Do you trust me?" Pete asks Amethyst mildly, blue eyes seeking hers for a moment, serious. And then the commlink's on, and he gives the two of them a brief crooked smile. "The worlds aren't very different, no. Used to call the old IBM programmers 'priests'." And then he turns to actually see Shift through the glass, and it hasn't been long but he's visibly worse, even aside from 'in person' versus videophone. "Shit," he says profoundly, face suddenly whiter than it was.
The princess becomes silent, studying Pete's face. Finally, she nods with downcast eyes. "I do."
Amethyst glances up when the first patient arrives, but her attention is more focused on a large gem set into her belt. Better not to look at that mess, anyway. A light shines from the gem she touches, materializing a second crystal in her hand. It's a ruby, mercifully, and pulsing with an inner light.
"We're alright," she murmurs, turning the gem over in her hand and perhaps seeing more in it than others. "Here. Keep this in your pocket." One for Pete, and a second flash of light later, one for Rain. She smiles apologetically at the latter, "Sorry, I know you probably have you own deal, but these are really handy. I'll give you some blank ones later, you can mess around with putting spells in them."
"You sure you still want to come inside?"
Shift keeps a torn-gloved hand upon the comm, and even appears to be leaning upon it just so. His eyes glance again toward Amaya and Rain, speculatively. "We haven't been abah to eradicate de infection. It's airborne. I open dis door, you're all exposed." It's almost as if he's giving them all one last chance to turn around and walk away. His eyes gradually rotate back toward Pete, and within them is a sort of distant determination. It's almost as if he's willing to give Pete every ounce of information he has, and let them go on their merry way, should they decide not to go through with it. Fortunately, his coughing seems to be down, which must have something to do with the inoculation he took not long ago.
His eyes flash toward the crystals that mysteriously appear in Amaya's hand. That, combined with her most fantastic attire, well, it would normally have set him off. Given him the heebiejeebies. For now? His blank gaze rotates back toward Pete, as if the agent of SHIELD gets the last say on whether or not he'll lower that glass wall.
Rain pauses, watching Pete and the Princess (wasn't that a movie? There were more fairies and less punching). She seems concerned. "Huh? And yeah, I do. But it's okay. I'll keep it," She promises. Rain doesn't seem offended. More surprised, really. And quietly sad she didn't pick up any surgical masks. Oh well. Maybe that gem... "It's kinda pretty." A peer at the crystal. "Thanks, I'll give it a shot." She's a newbie at enchanting items. Though, the newt spell protected liquor cellar is always a hit. She looks to Shift, concerned.
"I understand," She offers to Shift. "But I don't think - I mean, really, you can get brain eating amoebas from snorting tap water." She points out. Life is fraught with hazards. Maybe Rain's wonky sense of self preservation is a genuine, quietly zen acceptance of mortality and the fact snorting water can kill the crap out of you.
 
There's a quick nod at Amethyst's acquiescence, and then that's that. Remembering, possibly, Amy smacking the booted-to-the-head Constantine in the forehead with one of these things, Pete takes the ruby without comment and puts it in his trouser pocket. The immediate shock of seeing the Ghanian that sick seems, at least, to have worn off; he regains his normal composure and shrugs one shoulder at Shift.
And then Wisdom stares at Rain for a second, the corners of his mouth twitching. "Remind me not to drink your tap water," he tells her. Then he waves a hand through the window, but the easy gesture's accompanied by an expression that assures, in and of itself, his understanding of the situation. Then, for Shift's benefit, "It's magic, mate. It's all right. Open up."
"Well, not that one, that's already got a spell in it to prevent us from getting--" Amethyst looks in Shift's direction and then quickly back to Rain. "--to protect us from disease."
She crosses her arms again and stands beside Pete, even though he's the one leading because he knows what's going on. Princess reflex. "We're protected. By magic. Because we're magic." Her gaze is hard, a shield against the horrors that Shift hints at both in word and visage. "I'm Princess Amethyst, heir of House Amethyst, protector of Nilaa. Basically, that means I'm here to fix your shit and you should put a little faith in sparkly stuff."
Rain's answer earns a break in that shell-shocked demeanor worn by the Ghanaian. However, that look of gratitude is promptly replaced by one of utter confusion. "Why on Earth would you snort wa-*HACK! COUGH!*"
Once his most recent coughing fit is over, he gives a slow nod to Pete. His hand moves to press a very large red button. An alarm begins to sound, and the airlock is blasted with white, disinfecting smoke as the glass wall begins to slide into the floor.
That same computer voice from earlier comes back. "Warning. Quarantine compromised. Warning. Quarantine compromised."
As the wall comes down, Shift takes a step to the side so that the others can enter. He fixed Amethyst with a rather blunt stare as she introduces herself, but this was certainly not the time to argue the ridiculousness of magic. "Look... if you peopah can fix all of dis?" He gestures about. "Den I'll owe you. Big."
Rain trusts the two. She tilts her head at Pete. "Actually, it's tap water in--" Pause. "Well, that's a morbid subject," She considers it. She looks to Amethyst. "Oh, I see. Thank you!" She'll take it. Because concentration based magic can sometimes have downsides. She stifles a smile at Shift. "Showers, neti pots. Though, neti pots seem kind of -" She frowns, worried about his coughing. She keeps the blankets in her arms. "Are you cold? These aren't magic blankets, but your uniform looked torn... and hopefully." Hopefully they can. She looks around the place, trying not to breathe too deeply. It's almost reflexive, due to her magic coming into her life much later than some.
 
There may be a somewhat ludicrous amount of smugness going on in Wisdom's corner of the world when Amethyst lays down the law.
And then-- Pete doesn't seem to be breathing any more or less deeply than his standard: awful lot of faith in that ruby in his pocket. Or maybe in the princess who supplied it. "--tell me later? I like having other people's morbid subjects handy to fend off nosy telepaths," he says to Rain as they go in. Then to Shift he adds, "Once you're sorted I'm going to grill you for details on what people need to be looking for, and any nonlethal methods of taking the Miltoned people down that could potentially apply."
It'll all get sorted. And then you can grieve. This has always been the way of it.
The princess strides through the containment door, tall and blonde and imperious. She stops inside the threshold, turning to face their diseased host with a raised chin and set jaw.
"You want this entire place scrubbed clean? I'm guessing you have a lot of fancy stuff in here that you'll want to keep." She glances over her shoulder. "Rain, you cool with a big ritual? I brought some books with me, so we can just do it off the page. We'll have to prep everyone individually, anyway."
Shrugging out of the coat, Kwabena reaches out tentatively and accepts one of the blankets with an expression of gratitude. "Thank you," he offers, and wraps the item around his torso, covering some of his uniform's most severe tears.
"Yeah," he says to Pete, and turns to lead them into the compound. "Plenty to tell you. None of it's pretty."
He leads them to a computer console and pulls up a schematic of the compound, with infected areas shaded in red. "Dese ah de affected zones," he says, directed to Amaya. "At dis point, I think I got no choice but to leave de rest to you. But... yes. If you can avoid damaging de assets we have here, dat would be ideal."
UNDERSTATEMENT.
Pete gets a solid 'where did you dig up this princess?' look.
One does not merely DIG up a princess. Not unless you're into mummies. Rain looks up to Amethyst, and nods. "Sure, that's fine." She is not imperious or blonde. Though, somewhat tall and dark hair might be KIND of intimidating if you're stuck in a Disney Princess mindset. She looks over the place, before smiling to Kwabena. "You're welcome." She hopes it helps. The blanket is the smaller of the two - a plush fuzzy kinda throw blanket. Probably better for wrapping than the larger one.
She peers over as Kwabena explains. Though, she recalls Pete's request and nods. Her eyes are a little wide at it. "Sure thing. And man, this is - pretty big." Boggle.
 
Digging up princesses is probably like telnetting into Mordor. Pete just gives Shift the single most innocent look the man can muster. He'd be laughing at Shift a lot more if there were a little less tragedy mixed in with the whole affair. Instead, he just looks away, up at the schematics. "Kept it out of the residential areas, good on you. And out of the vault, thank God. Right--"
Skin sensitivity is taken into account when Pete grants the X-Man the best reassurance he can: fuck quarantine anyway, that's a hand on the shoulder, brief as it is. And then he's turning to Amethyst and Rain, and he shrugs out of the tuxedo jacket. "Right. So, prep: how can I help? Tell me what to do."
This Princess clucks her tongue and shakes her head. She saw that, Shift. Magnanimously, she lets it pass and walks further into the facility, showing her back to the rest of the group, taking slow steps as she considers the breadth of the problem.
"I need you--" Amethyst flicks her wrist over her shoulder, fingers curled. Glitter blows on an invisibly breeze, swirling in front of Pete and becoming a large, dusty tome that could not be a more appropriate prop if Goofy popped out from around the corner and said GAWRSH, MERLIN'S SPELLBOOK!
"--to hold that. I bookmarked a page. Rain, give it a read, tell me if there's any stuff you can add."
Amethyst whirls around on her heel, hair and ribbon twirling around her like they have their own choreographers. She grins, but only barely. "Shift, ever heard of a hearthstone? Like, in the mystical sense? It's the place in a house where all the residual spirit essence of the people who live there collects. Let's go find yours."
It seems, at this point, that Kwabena is beyond being bothered by the fuzzy, plushness of his blanket. Beggars can't be choosers. A half-cocked smirk is fired Rain's way. "Impressive, huh?" he asks. "Dere's a lot of sensitive information around here, so... you know. Eyes half shut, if you catch my drift."
There is a short, almost snarky sound that comes from Kwabena when Pete briefly claps him on the shoulder. "It's airborne, Pete. You've already got Pestilence cooties." It's a rather dry response, but a clear sign that beyond the shell shock and disease, Shift is still in there.
Now, as if the creepy way these two ladies are acting wasn't enough, Amaya's little trick with the spellbook is enough to cause a trickle to crawl up the African's spine. Then, she's... asking him that question.
Rising from the console, he looks a bit warily toward Amaya. There are so many things he could say in response to that, but instead, he just gives Pete an absolutely helpless expression. He reaches up to scratch at the back of his head, then looks back at Amaya.
"Hearthsone."
Beat.
"Listen. I'm... not a mystical pahson. I used to be a drug addict and a criminal. Now I'm an X-Man. I save lives. Sometimes I kill peopah to do it. Sometimes not. I used to carry around a crucifix simply because a very dear friend of mine--" Aside to Pete, "--who was turned into Pestilence--" Back to Amaya, "--suggested I do so. I nevah really believed in it, but some few hours ago, a very powahful mutant crushed it with his mind. So, dere's dat. And have I mentioned dat I've been involved with Satan's daughtah?" He shakes his head. "My life is... complicated. If you can find where my spirit essence lies?" Oh, he tries so very hard not to scoff. "Den you should find de world's biggest lotto, and play it."
Either way, he's gone this far. There's nothing left to lose. He closes his eyes, stifles his lungs from expelling something altogether unpleasant, and gestures forward with his hand. "So... now dat I've got dat out, let's get stahted."
Amethyst stares blankly at Shift. "Which Satan?"
In summary, due to lack of time: 
Amethyst and Rain perform a ritual and then remove a coffee maker, saying that it has drawn all the sickness into the place. Amethyst says everyone is cured and leaves a bag of water bottles with 'healing potion :)' written on the side in magic marker. They're red, she advises, because she put gatorade mix in them. They're to help the remaining symptoms pass away, which will fade over the course of a day.
Category:Log