PL IC Thread IX++ //Oddsbodikins & Atomic Kittens//

[Mincaldenteans]

"Well," started Sal, drinking the last of the Port Wine," I for one am in. I'm pretty good at writing and I could design posters and such for the cause. After all, a socialist fights for the rights of all, not just workers."

He thought back on his time at Marinaleda and the education he got from there. The leftist leanings of the town meant that each and every inhabitant of the town was taught socialist values from the second they set foot in a public school. Here is my chance to do something positive with my life, I'll make sure to do it well.

"What can I do right now that can be of help to the cause?"

The Summer fae thought about it for a moment, he wasn't quite sure himself having had limited activity within his own group. He wondered if the others even knew he was a part of them. It wouldn't surprise him if they didn't, most of his own inactivity were his own fault, but perhaps he could change that. Dan only wondered how exactly, humans were odd enough of a interpersonal basis, a social setting was somewhat odd. He only had the Guild to go by and Dan supposed he did well enough.

Back to topic lest he lose himself into his own thoughts and misgivings. "We have a festival happening at the Market Place if you'd like to go. After the recent loss of 13 - long story, I'm not quite sure of the vote or the proposed law - many of us have rallied there in celebration," Dan answered coolly. He downed what was left of his coffee and looked up to signal a waiter for another cup. "If you'd like some company, I won't mind going with. Just remember that any ability you may have would need to be unused, for cautionary sake, but I highly doubt you'd need to anyway."

His gaze turned to Robert who had been rather silent since his salad had arrive. Dan's refill had, a fresh cup of coffee with another tiny pitcher of cream. "And what of you, Robert? Would you like to join us? You, Tasia?" He regarded Sal and Robert with his next statement as he added a few sugar cubes to his coffee, "It would be a good opportunity to know and see who you're actively trying to help protect. The worries aren't gone, nor will it be forgotten anytime soon I don't think, but at least there you'll see that they - we - are no different from the rest of the citizens of this city. I bet we'd even see those that do support us; likely you'll find some idea and inspiration to how you'd be able to get involved."

[The New Velociraptor Empire]

"I don't think I get the coal mine metaphor.", Torii glanced to Gretta. "Do you mean that one should show problems? Anyways, I guess I have no choice but to check them every now and then.", She shrugged. "That's science. So, what do you think? Maybe we're done for today, or is there more to be done? The election is today, you know."

"Well, we already fixed our newsfeeds so there are no more assignments for today. Though there will be a lot more in store once we launch our new public project, the Pilkington Institute." Gretta began as she lead Torii out of the infirmary. "Ah yes, the election, we've been trying to forecast the results and it will be close if we minimalized the margin of error correctly. We don't vote since we are not exactly citizens, even though we got our own speed limit." she added as she disposed of her rubber gloves in a biohazard bin.

[Swith Witherward]

Minerva scrutinized the cyborg's appearance. His silver flecked hair and cybernetic eye were a unique look, but it didn't set him too far apart from the mundanes. In fact, he himself was mundane. Prosthetic parts really couldn't count as abhuman or magical, could they? The undead, the werewolves, those with magical powers - these things were abnormal humans. A Fae wasn't human at all, was it? Ergo, how could it be abnormal? And a cyborg, if human, was still human.

The woman banished the illogical train of thought. There wasn't any time to waste dwelling on the nonsense. Perhaps later she would sit down with a glass of wine and a cigar and sort it out to her own satisfaction.

"Alright, ready then?" Minerva's lips curled into smile as they walked toward the plant. "Don't struggle, don't break free of me, and don't scream. God, I always hate it when people scream."
Her hand latched onto his wrist, trapping it in an impossibly tight grip, and then the floor rushed up to meet them as the shadow swallowed them whole.

Shadow travel was far better than drain pipes. For one, there weren't any wings or eyes. It was simply moving in the dark, feeling one's body elongate to the point of nearly snapping, and then losing oneself to oblivion. It was painless although definitely disorienting. Minerva remained in Time but moved with a sense of purpose, ignoring minor tugs in order to reach the pub safely. The ceiling or sky or whatever the mind chose to call that empty space above seemed to lightened and then take the form of wood and a chalk mark. It was, in fact, the underside of Ocho's chair. Cultist and cyborg broke through it (with a gentle shove from Minerva guiding Septimus to the right so as to keep him from striking against the chair itself, although it might make it appear to Amanda that they had only been squatting behind the large alien).

"Hello, are we late?" Minerva released Septimus' wrist and stepped around Ocho. She settled into the empty chair and gestured for her companion to join them. "Coca tea, John, if you please. Actually, make it a double."

The astartes behind the bar nodded, and then took everyone's order for good measure.

"I believe congratulations are in order, Septimus," the xeno cyborg rumbled. "All that's left is the victory speech and the swearing in ceremony downtown. By the way, how are the rest looking?"

"Too close to call," Minerva folded her hands in front of her, offering what could have been either a grin or grimace. "13 is too close to call. Industrial District has a new Rep. Rowan is his name. Nice man, former dock worker. Brigg's people lost their foothold there, and I'm guessing he's not too pleased about it. Anyway, I thought we might do a last minute powwow of sorts. I didn't expect 13 to fail at all, and I'd prepared for the worst. Obviously, that might not be necessary, but that doesn't change the fact that 13 is too close to call. Roughly half the voters have a bad taste in their mouth, and we need to step up if we're to change that."

She coughed and added in an undertone, "If it passes, we have Conservators and the Guild standing by. My Lads are poised to evacuate the elderly, infirm and children."



Neste and Nila stood before the pub door. Both human constructs shuddered at the thought of entering a magical place. The Building was bad enough. Magic wrecked havoc with their natures, and they tended to negate all the pretty things around them. They would wait a while, quietly scanning the festival goers around them, until it was time.



The truck emerged from the tunnels and wound its way to the Observatory without any hassle. Marcus was fortunate to spot two younger Brothers passing by as they pulled into the garage. Sandy's refrigerator - along with the rest of his stuff - would find a temporary home inside one of the unused offices. Marcus supposed the stone walls and tapestries might be agreeable to the wizard. Pippa-Michelle was shown to a room with a window facing the woods surrounding the Observatory. It was a cheerful space (considering it was a monastery bedroom), but she also had permission to roam provided she stayed away from the lower levels (and the forges contained therein).

The majority of inhabitants seemed to be clustered in the dining hall. A television had been brought in, and was tuned to Channel 9.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to have a cup of coffee before unpacking completely," the teen suggested.

[Torsiedelle]

"I get it. I'm not a citizen either.", Torii told Gretta. "Actually, apparently nobody in the building is, which is kind of stupid. I don't mind, though. I love my homeland, and Bielefield isn't so great.", She added. "So, work's done? That's cool. I guess I'll be going home?", She asked, toying with the TF gun. "I'll leave this here, I guess."

[Giovenith]

After tucking Pippa in and giving her some sparkly cardboard to nibble on, Giovenith followed Marcus with a nod.

"Coffee is always nice," she agreed with a relaxed sigh, slightly more at peace that they had made it. "And you know, now that I'm here, perhaps this would also be a good chance to implement the hospital plans suggested last visit? I could get right to work on the wall painting and the window illusions, and I've got plenty in my pockets to stock the mini entertainment libraries."

Giovenith wasn't sure what the healers' status was in the face of 13, but she figured these things would remain important.

[Highfort]

Septimus gave the Captain a tight-lipped nod as she grabbed his wrist and pulled them into the darkness beneath the plant.

The lack of pain surprised him momentarily as he found himself stretched to the point of nearly being torn apart. It felt more like being rolled out on a cutting board, he thought. Small temptations pulled at him and he was thankful for Captain Blackwater's grip on his wrist. His mind flashed briefly back to the fatal experiment with Titus, when he'd ordered the man to not get lost in the Infinity Circuit. What had pulled him? Neste's warning not to stray within the tether also echoed through his head. The mind held more dangers than the physical world, that much had become clear to him.

The cyborg lacked time for any more thoughts, however, as he found the bottom of a wood chair nearly meeting his face before Minerva had the foresight to push him out of the way and into the relaxed atmosphere of the bar. The Wilting Succubus, if he recalled correctly.

Clearing the musses from his suit, Septimus settled into an open seat before pulling at his sash to smooth it, "Evening, everyone, apologies for my late appearance."

Nodding at the offer of coca tea from Minerva, Septimus accepted the congratulations from the bulky bartender with a smile, "Thank you... John, was it? Not my first political appointment but all of you here on Terra appear to do things slightly differently than the Confederation so I'm still taking it all in."

"Thirteen likely won't pass, given the results the media's been reporting," Septimus briefly glanced behind him and, much to his relief, the bar remained clear of swarming reporters, "But, as the Captain has mentioned, it did have significant support. I believe if we are to have any hope of countering this we'll need to put our best foot forward. Legal cases will secure us the groundwork to keep this from happening again."

He paused to offer a nod to Ocho and Amanda.

"But just being legally equal means nothing if resentment continues to simmer amongst the rabble," he leaned forward and set his arms on the bar as he spoke, rubbing his palms together, "We need symbols, visible contributions, heroes - the works. The Public Works Committee will be meeting tomorrow - we need to get work moving on the park and I need to get things sorted out before I have work from the legislature to handle. I'll have my hands full killing bills and making sure everyone gets the proper permits and licenses without being blocked by the government. I have a feeling my fellows - Rowan and the other Market District representatives notwithstanding - aren't going to make my time in office easy or pleasant."

Not easy and not pleasant were understatements, but the cyborg was confident that a little political machinery would keep the brunt of the anti-abhuman hatred from affecting his work. He briefly wondered if politicians on Terra were as resistant to bribery as most Confederation politicians were. If they weren't of similar moral fiber, perhaps shaving off some of his salary to pay them off would be in order.

Of course, hiring thugs was always an option. He didn't particularly want to get back into dirty work after his years in the Confederation, though. The Board had used him up quite enough for killing.

"Mr. Ono, Mrs. Bela, what angle are you working? I'll try to springboard legislation based on how our legal cases go so there's a precedent for setting up new laws," the cyborg leaned back as a steaming cup of tea was set before him, "Are we looking at basic bodily rights? Property rights?"

[Swith Witherward]

Marcus' face brightened into a smile. He loved watching Giovenith work her magic. No, not the kind that caused paper to leap to life, although that was pretty damn cool. It was the magic of chalk on a flat surface, or of a brush loaded with paint - to watch her take simple items and fashion them into a lasting piece of art - that was more magical to him than anything fully fledged gods could do. It was a humble, human sort of effort. But the magic didn't end when she put down chalk or brush. It was only the beginning. Her artwork captivated the soul and ensnared the imagination, prompting it to launch into adventures within the mind.

"Can I watch you work?" his eyes conveyed an innocent love for her art and skill rather than anything creepy as he passed a steaming cup to her. "We don't have too many artists around here. Well, not that I know of. I'm kinda hoping your drawings will inspire some of them to come out of the woodwork. This place is... it's dull. Drab. Everyone's so busy with worship and research that I think they forget how to live."

He offered a shrug to Sandy and gave him a cup as well, and was pretty sure the adult in their midst understood more about the work mindset. Older adults seemed consumed by their stuff. Gotta get the paycheck. Gotta pay the bills. Gotta get that promotion, or finish that project, or do this and do that and go, go, go. Even Sandy, as relaxed as he was while cooking, had gone into "adult mode" once it became apparent that they'd move stuff to the Observatory. Okay, the Bellas were a good example of how couples should behave, but maybe he and Giovenith could be a good example of how to enjoy the little stuff in life.

"Sandy, if you want, I can see if a technomage is lurking about. We have some, but I don't see them often. They're broody, and reclusive, but take interest in fellow spell casters."

---

Minerva's hand was a blur as she moved it to cover Septimus' cup.

"James, why don't we bring the Representative a nice Lemon Zinger or perhaps some Earl Grey?" A Cheshire Cat's grin spread across her face as she leaned in to take the group into confidence. "Coca tea is cocaine tea. Pure, unadulterated power dissolved to make a tasty solution, once you add some sugar and nutmeg to it. We Lads are dead. Drugs don't affect us the same way; they pacify our inner daemons. Purna - my daemon, a Keeper of Secrets - enjoys her blow, and cocaine is legal in Bielefeld."

Ocho snorted, momentarily distracted by the near faux pas. The last thing they needed was a dead Representative. Dead Itum. Ah, memory jogged.

The thade pulled an envelope from his pocket and slid it across the table. "Septimus, your settlement. Fram was more than happy to compensate you and your estate for your untimely death. I took the liberty of taking 10% as my fee. I'm sure you won't mind."

He gestured at the envelope with a finger. "Your account - Swiss - as well as a smaller account locally at the bank. The zeros on the Swiss account are not a typo. I thought to go high to intimidate him into a decent settlement. We'd bargain down. The God of Excess didn't bat an eye. He met my initial demands."

To Amanda, he added, "Swiss accounts and other off shore business is also legal in Bielefeld, although you won't find that on any bar exam. They simply don't have a law against it."

Another packet was placed on the table. "You wanted to restore that park? Permits. I'll do my best to push through anything you wish regarding public works. I'll be less successful at springboarding legislation. Amanda, being human, will be better suited. But I think we should legally define ourselves. We are not all abhuman. I'm not human at all. And then we can push for worker's rights, property rights, and marriage rights. This is my opinion only."

[Primordial Luxa]

"Well," started Sal, drinking the last of the Port Wine," I for one am in. I'm pretty good at writing and I could design posters and such for the cause. After all, a socialist fights for the rights of all, not just workers."

He thought back on his time at Marinaleda and the education he got from there. The leftist leanings of the town meant that each and every inhabitant of the town was taught socialist values from the second they set foot in a public school. Here is my chance to do something positive with my life, I'll make sure to do it well.

"What can I do right now that can be of help to the cause?"

The Summer fae thought about it for a moment, he wasn't quite sure himself having had limited activity within his own group. He wondered if the others even knew he was a part of them. It wouldn't surprise him if they didn't, most of his own inactivity were his own fault, but perhaps he could change that. Dan only wondered how exactly, humans were odd enough of a interpersonal basis, a social setting was somewhat odd. He only had the Guild to go by and Dan supposed he did well enough.

Back to topic lest he lose himself into his own thoughts and misgivings. "We have a festival happening at the Market Place if you'd like to go. After the recent loss of 13 - long story, I'm not quite sure of the vote or the proposed law - many of us have rallied there in celebration," Dan answered coolly. He downed what was left of his coffee and looked up to signal a waiter for another cup. "If you'd like some company, I won't mind going with. Just remember that any ability you may have would need to be unused, for cautionary sake, but I highly doubt you'd need to anyway."

His gaze turned to Robert who had been rather silent since his salad had arrive. Dan's refill had, a fresh cup of coffee with another tiny pitcher of cream. "And what of you, Robert? Would you like to join us? You, Tasia?" He regarded Sal and Robert with his next statement as he added a few sugar cubes to his coffee, "It would be a good opportunity to know and see who you're actively trying to help protect. The worries aren't gone, nor will it be forgotten anytime soon I don't think, but at least there you'll see that they - we - are no different from the rest of the citizens of this city. I bet we'd even see those that do support us; likely you'll find some idea and inspiration to how you'd be able to get involved."

Robert raised an eyebrow "That's quite an assumption your making their. I have no real interest in helping the Abhumans any more than any other regular citizens of this city" Robert said picking at his salad. He had no strong feeling either way on prop 13 but he did know that cancer, lesions and other forms of bodily rot spiked in any place which abhumans were present. They were a genetic off shoot of humanity and most of the time intermingling with regular humans could lead to strange illnesses and interbreeding had incredible risk for future genetic problems. That and the fact that most Abhumans seemed to not need traditional medical assistance due to healing factors, reality warping, or other strange powers. Robert had tended the wounds of more than a dozen people who had been the victims of something related to Abhumans. While he had no hate towards them since most of them were untrained and lack any control over the damage they caused, he hardly saw them as victims in need of help.

[Giovenith]

"Of course," Giovenith chuckled a bit as she carefully sipped the warm drink, a little confused at why Marcus still felt the need to ask permission at this point. Of course the art was open to view and share! "We'll get right to work after hearing the results."

Inside though, she had some questions and concerns she chose not to bring up. The priests here seemed kind, but it was still a world based in cold logic that some may view as opposed to her own whimsical, warm, magic edge. She doubted they would ever scold her for it, but she did hope that Marcus wouldn't get in any trouble for being perceived as too focused on her way of doing things instead of his own people's ideals. Everyone here was smart and understanding though, so it was probably nothing to worry about.

[Tiltjuice]

"I have my own part to play, but otherwise I'll lend a hand where I can," Tasia replied glibly, and somewhat cryptically. "You must know, though, that I do have a few things I'd like to see through to the end."

There was a pause. She dipped her finger into her coffee and stirred with an apparent lack of artifice, but there was something crude or flawed about it that marred the execution. Pulling her hand away, she flicked off the coffee carelessly, staining the cloth with dark droplets. The festival held the appeal and promise of a change of pace, and perhaps Chrys would stop feeling so over-burdened.

"Don't you sound enthusiastic, though," she purred at Robert by way of closing rejoinder, the sarcasm very clear, but light as feathers. The idea of not helping anyone was foreign to her, even as a Conservator who was alienated from her own fellows; but she fought back the urge to turn his clock down.

[Fvaarniimar]

"Someone else will need to 'stitch you up.' I don't sew." It hadn't been a useful skill for a furry cat to learn - scraps of fabric served perfectly well to render hard surfaces more comfortable, and paws couldn't really manipulate needles properly.

Nick certainly could, however, act as Brit's eyes. He'd started moving when the girl had indicated that she would need him to do so; next to her when she rubbed her hair, he watched as the rag had darkened - and had picked up the same somewhat-metallic scent of blood.

Brit needed to know more than that, however, and even without the contrast in color noticeable to a human Nick spotted her injury pretty quickly. It didn't look good, but if nothing else or if it became particularly urgent to get her help, he could yell into Brit's sink. (Maybe an excuse to contact the... whatever Klaus actually was would help.) Meanwhile, he reared up, wriggling his paws under the shirt which she had indicated she needed to take off anyway (it would be some pressure, but no heavier than a backpack and no worse than a massage.) If he were to act as her eyes, he needed contact with her skin - and he also needed to be looking upwards. Short of nosing her head or pawing an arm that she would need to use, this seemed best.

<Please don't move - your back. Much. I need a paw in contact, and I need to lean on something because your head is high up.> It quickly became apparent why the cat was doing anything of the sort, as Brit found an image in her head, almost as though she was imagining it - what Nick was seeing just beforehand, in slightly blurry grays and blues and greens. Another moment and her head was in sharp focus; a few more moments, and the apartment in the background had blurred and greyed. <Is this good? I tried to adjust a little - edit to make seeing it easier... Not sure if it worked.> Unless something happened to disrupt the connection or Brit's actual imagination messed with the image, she would continue to view a slightly-edited version of what the cat was seeing - although with a slight delay, somewhere around a second, due to the signals' need to travel through two nervous systems and be processed at least a little by two brains.

[Primordial Luxa]

"I have my own part to play, but otherwise I'll lend a hand where I can," Tasia replied glibly, and somewhat cryptically. "You must know, though, that I do have a few things I'd like to see through to the end."

There was a pause. She dipped her finger into her coffee and stirred with an apparent lack of artifice, but there was something crude or flawed about it that marred the execution. Pulling her hand away, she flicked off the coffee carelessly, staining the cloth with dark droplets. The festival held the appeal and promise of a change of pace, and perhaps Chrys would stop feeling so over-burdened.

"Don't you sound enthusiastic, though," she purred at Robert by way of closing rejoinder, the sarcasm very clear, but light as feathers. The idea of not helping anyone was foreign to her, even as a Conservator who was alienated from her own fellows; but she fought back the urge to turn his clock down.

"I have other appointments I needs to be worried about. I cant stop helping my current patients just because someone else wants my help." Robert said referring to many other victims and test subjects he was working on. It was the most polite answer he could think of and it was the most truthful. He continued to work on his salad while watching Tasia and Dan. "I don't have time to focus on politics and marching my job takes priority. Sorry."

[The New Velociraptor Empire]

"I get it. I'm not a citizen either.", Torii told Gretta. "Actually, apparently nobody in the building is, which is kind of stupid. I don't mind, though. I love my homeland, and Bielefield isn't so great.", She added. "So, work's done? That's cool. I guess I'll be going home?", She asked, toying with the TF gun. "I'll leave this here, I guess."

"No, you keep it in case inspiration strikes. And here," Gretta said as she popped a floppy disk out of a computer drive. "A copy of the programming in case you need to make further alterations or reset it." she added.

"By the way, Neil is a bit touchy on ethics towards clones. It's complicated with his history and the fractured mind the old techniques left him with." Gretta said quietly as not to be overheard by the intercom. Of course, she would be protecting him. Cloning used to be a prominent part of his research until things started turning sour on multiple fronts.

[Torsiedelle]

"I get it. I'm not a citizen either.", Torii told Gretta. "Actually, apparently nobody in the building is, which is kind of stupid. I don't mind, though. I love my homeland, and Bielefield isn't so great.", She added. "So, work's done? That's cool. I guess I'll be going home?", She asked, toying with the TF gun. "I'll leave this here, I guess."

"No, you keep it in case inspiration strikes. And here," Gretta said as she popped a floppy disk out of a computer drive. "A copy of the programming in case you need to make further alterations or reset it." she added.

"By the way, Neil is a bit touchy on ethics towards clones. It's complicated with his history and the fractured mind the old techniques left him with." Gretta said quietly as not to be overheard by the intercom. Of course, she would be protecting him. Cloning used to be a prominent part of his research until things started turning sour on multiple fronts.

Torii chuckled. "I guess I can understand. I don't necessarily agree with it myself, well, in practice, but that's because they look...human. I'm still iffy on that stuff, but I understand. Sometimes, you need to be a little unethical to make progress anyway.", She said. "I guess I just need to get used to the idea. I'm still not all the way there."

She slipped the floppy disk into her back pocket and nodded. "Thank you. I guess I'll give it a try. If I ever cut myself or get a bruise, I'll see how well it works. Anyways, i guess I gotta get going now? I wanna spritz up and find my friends, get some news."

[Northwest Slobovia]

The Bela Tango
After waving goodbye to Giovenith, Pippa-Michelle, and Marcus as the truck pulled away from the curb, Sandy considered what he needed to do. Packing a few days clothing would be easy, Amanda kept their travel kits full and ready, and getting Plutarch into his cage was simply a matter of asking him to come. The computer equipment had its own shipping boxes. Hmm, might as well bring the fancier flours too, and the leftovers. Still not too much time. Sandy muttered, "Right then", and set off down the street.

Sandy checked to see if the Brisbys had been able to fill his special order, then returned to the Building and began filling luggage and boxes. That went as quickly as he expected. The good flour went into a cardboard box, and the leftovers were already set for storage, so they went into the cooler with some ice. Sandy nodded at his work. As an afterthought, he shrank his stick to pencil size, and tossed it in his luggage.

A brief text conversation with Amanda revealed she was at the Succubus, which was close enough to walk to. He waved to Amanda and Ocho as he approached the bar's front door, and a brief study of the interior told him why Ocho decided to meet there: it was a Lad hangout. He walked over to the lawyers' window table. "Hello, Ocho! If you'll excuse us for a moment, I need to talk to Amanda." Sandy spoke to her at the table; it didn't matter if Ocho heard, and he might have something interesting to say. The Lads doubtless had the same information already.

"Dear, Yuna brought... interesting news: prepare for the worst." Sandy let that sink in for a second. "She said we should pack up and prepare to leave. Our guests have already left. I've packed enough for a few days. I was just about to have us follow our guests, but I see you're still busy here. What do you want to do?"

Amanda's eyes briefly widened: was the situation that desperate? Did Minerva expect the military would move in at the stroke of midnight if Thirteen passed? Suddenly, her gunbelt seemed no longer excessive: fighting her way out had obvious repercussions, but guns had a certain ability to convince people to do things even if never loaded. "I'll call you when I want to be picked up. I expect you've got a good hiding place picked out." Sandy nodded to her and Ocho, the Belas hugged, and Sandy left for the Building. Amanda sat speechless for a few minutes, ruminating on the state of the city.

Arriving home, Sandy loaded everything packed into the back of the jeep. He dug Plutarch's cage out of a closet, and Plutarch practically flew into it when Sandy said the word "jeep". He'd been pining for the fjords forest behind the Building, but Sandy wasn't willing to take him for a fly just yet. "Jeep" meant outside, if in a cage. Sandy carried Plutarch down to the parking garage, put his cage on top of the pile in the back, and took the tunnel to the Observatory.

Sandy parked in front of the Observatory, took Plutarch and his cage out of the jeep, and followed a novice who led him to Marcus and Giovenith. He set Plutarch's cage down on a table as he entered the room, then tried to pick up the thread of their conversation.

"Sandy, if you want, I can see if a technomage is lurking about. We have some, but I don't see them often. They're broody, and reclusive, but take interest in fellow spell casters."

Sandy politely declined the coffee Marcus was offering. "Thank you, but no. I have no idea how Amanda drinks that, I find it far too bitter. I prefer something a bit smoother." Sandy grabbed an empty mug from a shelf and conjured it full of a dark brown liquid. "Mocha, of a sort. Three-quarters fancy hot chocolate, one quarter coffee."

"I'd like to talk to the technomage, but perhaps later. I tend to agree with Giovenith: even if Proposition 13 fails, we may still have a lot of people to treat. It's not like the discrimination or the ill will towards us will go away over night. So we should see what needs doing first."

Sandy paused, collecting his thoughts. "Speaking of first things first, I should get unpacked. And I should introduce both of you to Plutarch." Sandy gestured towards the caged parrot, who seemed to be gnawing on one of the bars of his cage. "We usually let him fly around our apartment, but we'd been keeping out of the main room because so many people have been coming and going over the last couple of days. Too many new people all at once frightens him, but just you two isn't a problem." Sandy turned to Giovenith and gave her a warm smile. "I still owe you a pleasant use of magic. I brought our fruit and what's left of the cake, so you can see how you like them with the Wolf's Nose."

The Wilting Succubus
Amanda blinked and shook her head to clear her vision as Minerva and Septimus mysteriously appeared behind Ocho. It took her a little while to recover, but fortunately, neither one seemed to notice her. She did miss most of what they said, however. Proposition 13 was apparently flailing, but Minerva was prepared for all eventualities. Yuna's visit was apparently part of that.

A Cheshire Cat's grin spread across her face as she leaned in to take the group into confidence. "Coca tea is cocaine tea. Pure, unadulterated power dissolved to make a tasty solution, once you add some sugar and nutmeg to it. We Lads are dead. Drugs don't affect us the same way; they pacify our inner daemons. Purna - my daemon, a Keeper of Secrets - enjoys her blow, and cocaine is legal in Bielefeld."

Only the last part of Minerva's revelations caught Amanda's interest, and she nodded curtly at the whole thing. When would supers learn that big reveals had gotten old, and they might just say what's on their minds? Minerva's off-hand comments yesterday had been much more stunning, especially to Sandy, who picked up more of them than Amanda did. Sandy would appreciate the implication that there were several kinds of daemons, and confirmation that the Lads weren't among the living. He'd been speculating about several interpretations of Minerva's comments, including variations on "possessed" and "undead".

To Amanda, he added, "Swiss accounts and other off shore business is also legal in Bielefeld, although you won't find that on any bar exam. They simply don't have a law against it."

Amanda listened with polite interest to Ocho's presentation of Septimus' settlement. The details were opaque to her, but their consequences were worth thinking about. As much as a wreck as the city's civil rights laws were, it seemed the tort system was effective enough to threaten divine beings. Closer to home, did Ocho command the same sort of fees she used to? If so, he was probably rather wealthy himself. A bit of income wouldn't hurt. With the right reagents and a little legal cover, Sandy could "mine silver" to keep them solvent, but that was a job, not a quick score, and Sandy had other uses for his time. She should be able to bring home the bacon herself.

Amanda quietly answered Ocho. "We found out about numbered accounts accidently. A local bank accepted a transfer from ours without blinking an eye. Sandy was more suprised than they were, since the account was set up in our world, not this one."

Another packet was placed on the table. "You wanted to restore that park? Permits. I'll do my best to push through anything you wish regarding public works. I'll be less successful at springboarding legislation. Amanda, being human, will be better suited. But I think we should legally define ourselves. We are not all abhuman. I'm not human at all. And then we can push for worker's rights, property rights, and marriage rights. This is my opinion only."

Amanda shook her head. "There is only one set of rights that matter: equal rights. If we have to get them step by step, we can, but we should be clear that that's what we want from the beginning. There are a number of cases we could advance now, but the one solid case I thought we had seems to have gone up in smoke. I doubt we'll have to wait long for other good ones."

"We may have a better angle, however. Proposition 13's broad wording -- or rather, deliberately vague wording -- seems to point out fundamental weaknesses in the city's civil liberties. It may be better to simply start by proposing stronger rights for everbody than to accept the rhetorical boxes that the other side wants to put people in: that there's an 'us' and a 'them'."

"One thing I'm a little unclear on is where we're starting from. Ocho? You threatened suit against a god in the name of a dead cyborg's estate. What's the god's legal status here? And likewise for the beneficiary of the estate: Mr. Itum must have some sort of legal claim on the check you just handed him."

[The New Velociraptor Empire]

"The difference is that out there it could take years to achieve what you did today in here. We know how to bend the rules to our advantage. Now go have fun with your friends, tomorrow is going to be a big day." Gretta said as she showed Torii the door out.

Meanwhile, Neil maintained the alertness level for the sleeper agents, keeping them hidden for now while he and Arthur ironed out the plans. "Having a majority would be good but a monopoly would be suspicious. Perhaps recruiting some morally flexible allies would help." Arthur suggested. "Who do you have in mind?" Neil asked. "Prim to start, his lot have the cognition and the right motivations. From there maybe a Drone, not sure since I can't gauge their attitudes. Not Velocidoctor, he's too wily and knows our tricks and of course the obvious reasons. A Templar could be valuable but given your history of trying to kill Thriller..." Arthur ran through the list till he could hear Neil snarling. "Cowardssss, the lot of them. Too goody two-shoes sons of monkeys." Neil snapped in disagreement. "Moving on then, Septimus has science credentials and has encountered Our Glorious Leader without being placed on a hit list but we are better leaving him to sort out the government. Stephen Koontz, he's dead. The Belas are too mystical and cannot be trusted." Arthur went down the list of qualified people on record. "So just the Luxans?" Neil asked as he simmered down. "Pretty much the only ones who can work with us." Arthur confirmed.

"Go talk with them tomorrow to see if we can work out a deal while I'll arrange a little surprise for Mr. Itum." Neil decided with a wicked grin.

[Germanic Templars]

"Sounds like a good plan.", Katya nodded. "Unfortunately, neither I nor my sister can vote, being foreigners, but no problem. Still, it is rather upsetting to learn that nobody hardly has citizenship, considering how many helped save the country from doom. I'd at least expect some of the cultists, or the Nikanors to have citizenship, considering the government thought it important to bag them for jobs, and even create a branch for the former."

She shrugged and looked around, motivated by nothing in particular. "I wonder if they'll ever need jobs again? I planned to open my own business, but that never went through. I guess now that I'm not worrying about a kid, and since the situation here would be great for it, I could put that vacant warehouse to good use. I don't know."


Talking carried for a little while, but lunchtime at Shencheng wouldn't last for hours. The group would have found their way back home, ready for the rally and whatever else they had to look forward to.

Launch was pleasant enough for Thriller as it turned to be a good day for him.

Until the phone call from Max came in and his vote that he casted for in the Ballot on 13. Max's decision on yes miffed and irated Thriller under the skin, but he remained calm on the situation as he reminded himself about Max's understanding on the term "abhuman" and anything dealing with beings not of normal.

Thriller quietly sighed to himself as he looked to the ground in front of him, contemplating on the turn out and if Max's vote might have been the straw to break the camel's back, so to speak.

His eyes drifted towards Katya, then back on the ground. This was a rather awkward situation for him to be in. "Good day it has been." He sighed.

[Torsiedelle]

"It has.", Katya agreed. "A bit long, though. So, have the votes been tallied in yet? I think we should ask, since we've been out today. Good thing we got home before nightfall, too, I suppose. I'm not afraid of anything, but I like to spend some more time at home."

She looked at Edge. "Any plans? Is Tsu able to handle herself, being sick?"

..............

Torii smiled. When Gretta put it that way, it didn't seem so bad. They HAD made some good progress. "Thanks.", She said, "I will. Some fun with friends is needed between work to keep you motivated.", She said. "I can't wait to tell them, too. I'm the only one I know besides Kale who isn't a healer.", She said.

Torii waved and left quietly, and kept her smile all the way home. She was actually right after the other group in the lobby, and noticed Tsu's sister and Thriller, so she stopped for a second and waved again. "Hey, Edge! I didn't know you came back. That's really cool! Hi, Mr. Thriller!", She said, while her and her sister exchanged nods. Torii hurried back to their apartment and left the TF gun and floppy disk on the bed, and then got ready to just hang out. Remembering her predicament earlier, she grabbed her pocket knife and put it in her pocket, then grabbed her handgun, out of habit, and opened her special drawer for accessories. Lidev's pendant and Yoshi's pearl bracelet were pushed to the side while Marcus's hair ribbons still sat comfortably in the middle, next to some other trinkets. There was her ball mask, two rings, and some pictures, but...

No, she wouldn't need anything right now. She closed it and guessed that she was ready for anything. She spritzed on some of her sister's nice perfume since she'd just gotten home, grabbed a juice box, and the Soviet ushanka she'd bought earlier in the day, and exited again, feeling pretty good about herself. Maybe she'd go find Kale and Drova and hang out again. Actually, she had made Kale mad earlier, and she wanted to ignore it. Still, maybe she should go settle it...maybe. Were they still together? She'd ask Drova, first.

[Mincaldenteans]

"I have other appointments I needs to be worried about. I cant stop helping my current patients just because someone else wants my help." Robert said referring to many other victims and test subjects he was working on. It was the most polite answer he could think of and it was the most truthful. He continued to work on his salad while watching Tasia and Dan. "I don't have time to focus on politics and marching my job takes priority. Sorry."

Dan frowned slightly, sparing a glance toward Tasia and then nodded. "Of course," he said after a moment to Robert before polishing his coffee and setting the empty cup aside.

He wondered, was there a point, after all? Perhaps not, it was his mistake in assuming everyone would be sympathetic to a just cause. The fae reminded himself that humans were fickle; one man's reasoning was likely another's disbelief and not everyone would jump to action with such few words. Sal had said nothing either, being remarkably quiet since Robert expressed his own views, perhaps the young man needed time to think and reflect upon the gravity of the situation.

Tasia's mention of other responsibilities gave him the opening he needed. There was little else to be said and the fae wasn't going to badger two new residents into joining something they weren't prepared, or cared, for. He glanced at the red-haired twin and offered a gentle smile, "Let's give them a chance to think on things, shall we?"

The check came by not a moment after the words escaped his lips and Dan paid it without hesitation. He got up from his seat, the smile not quite reaching his usual genial manner, "Stay as long as you like, our gracious hosts does not rush anyone out. If you ever change your minds, let us know."

With that, Tasia and Dan bid their farewells for the evening and took their leave.

[The BranRiech]

As Torii had been walking out of her apartment, a freshly-showered Drova had also left his own apartment. Yuna had been acting somewhat strange in the few hours since lunch. She'd been packing a bag, and making various trips to the bathroom. He knew that women operated on a different schedule, but several times in a few hours? He shook his head at the thought. She was probably just making sure she had everything.

Meanwhile, Drova had eaten lunch, and then excused himself, letting Kale out of his apartment before he went to take another shower. He'd preened himself, and made sure his feathers were all in line, and then dressed himself, in a similar shirt to the one he was wearing earlier.

With his new necklace wrapped around his neck, and a loose-hanging shirt wrapped around his waist, Drova didn't really think he was going to run into Torii, but he wasn't going to object if he did. Yuna was still waiting around the apartment, and didn't want to come along for some reason.

Turning a corner, winding into the hallway of Torii's apartment, he smiled, noticing the shadow of the girl cast on the wall.

"Torii?"

[Torsiedelle]

As Torii had been walking out of her apartment, a freshly-showered Drova had also left his own apartment. Yuna had been acting somewhat strange in the few hours since lunch. She'd been packing a bag, and making various trips to the bathroom. He knew that women operated on a different schedule, but several times in a few hours? He shook his head at the thought. She was probably just making sure she had everything.

Meanwhile, Drova had eaten lunch, and then excused himself, letting Kale out of his apartment before he went to take another shower. He'd preened himself, and made sure his feathers were all in line, and then dressed himself, in a similar shirt to the one he was wearing earlier.

With his new necklace wrapped around his neck, and a loose-hanging shirt wrapped around his waist, Drova didn't really think he was going to run into Torii, but he wasn't going to object if he did. Yuna was still waiting around the apartment, and didn't want to come along for some reason.

Turning a corner, winding into the hallway of Torii's apartment, he smiled, noticing the shadow of the girl cast on the wall.

"Torii?"

The girl smiled back at the boy. "What's up?", She asked, "I was just working with the raptors. We made some good progress on a project I'm undertaking. You know, I normally wouldn't even be dreaming of a science career because I never even got out of elementary school?", She said, carrying on. "Thanks to them, I can do even better. Who needs an education, am I right?"

She kicked off and bumped his shoulder. "Anyways, where's Kale? Wanna hang out?"

[Swith Witherward]

Pub
Ocho's ear flicked as Sandy explained Yuna's warning. "She said we should pack up and prepare to leave." Good. At least someone else had read the damn Measure. If it passed, they'd all find themselves living someplace new. In fact, he was rather surprised more people hadn't fled once 13 was pasted onto the ballot. But Yuna was an unknown entity to him, and he presumed the Belas were packing for the initial move rather than transferring the necessities to someplace safe. Had he known it was the latter, he would have mentioned his own little den not far from the pub. Alas, he remained somewhat in the dark.

Minerva's brief cocaine explanation, and the revealing of her daemon's species, made perfect sense to the thade. It was an odd tidbit that really served nothing when taken out of context. As it so happened, the only person that needed to know the information was the thade himself. He blinked, filed it away, and then folded his claws and ruminated over Amanda's questions. Some of it was difficult to explain.

"The god, Fram, has no legal status in the mundane world," he carefully began. "There is a distinct line between human and xeno. Lines between anthro and human. But in the case of the supernatural? Theirs is a completely separate world in this dimension. It used to be that Mundanes lived and interacted separate from supernatural society. The two communities were kept separate through the use of secrecy and magic. But in modern times, more and more supernatural creatures are appearing, and mundanes have taken notice. Fearing them, the mundanes have begun to hunt them. And the mundanes now count xeno and anthro as part of that supernatural group."

Ocho patted his robe and then rummaged through pockets. His efforts produced two folded newspaper sections. "Here," he said as he placed the first in front of Amanda. "This is the local paper, the news section. It covers the bombing - nothing new to be gleamed from the article - as well as other local news. Fairly typical. Ink on paper. Made in a press. Smells like newsprint."

He opened the other section, carefully smoothing it out as he set it in front of Amanda. It bore the faintest odor of almonds. "This is The Underworld Times. The front page is abuzz regarding today's election. Nearly every supernatural thing on Earth is holding its breath and waiting to see if the other shoe will fall here in Bielefeld. Will they become hunted once more? Will they need to return to under their rocks? Legendary creatures in particular are worried, especially those that usually get a rough shake from humanity - such as werewolves and other 'monsters'. Everyone loves unicorns, but what about the hinkypunk or other will o' the wisps?"

Minerva softly coughed. "The damn newspaper comes out twice daily. Copies are at the front desk. No one - not one single Resident other than Ocho and the Nifid - has ever bothered to pick a copy up and read it. In over three years."

"That's because the Residents are obtuse." The xeno eased back in his seat. "The Underworld - that hidden, supernatural society - has its own way of handling litigation. It might surprise you to learn that the gods themselves get caught up in red tape. Septimus' case would have been brought before the pantheon, not the local city court. Septimus' legal claim to the money is firmly grounded in the Underworld, and not this mundane world we all live in."

Ocho cleared his throat. "Getting back to the topic. No longer is it Underworld vs Mundane, for mundane things such as aliens, cyborgs and anthro cats are facing the same persecution as supernatural creatures. We have to solidify the group in order for the group to demand equal rights. As it stands right now, the supernatural creatures don't give two shits about xenos, cyborgs and anthros."

"You'll have your hands full," Minerva cautioned Septimus. "And you might have to get used to concepts that are both illogical and impractical. You'll find yourself bridging two worlds, which is why I obtained permission from Rodney to have the null protect you."



Observatory
Marcus eyed Plutarch, wary of the bird's sharp beak and talons. He'd seen creatures like him on the island, but always at a distance. Being this close to one was a bit unnerving, yet cool as well. "I'm sure he'll enjoy spreading his wings in your workshop here. And don't worry about the techomages. They come and go, so if you don't see one this week, chances are high that they'll run into you the next."

He nodded to Giovenith's suggestion although a small part of him wondered what she would make of the odd Brothers and their clockwork creations, not to mention the strange magic that danced from their fingertips. Wow - would Sandy suffer from sensory overload?

Still, for the moment everything was quiet, and that meant there was still time for magical meals and getting to know pet birds. The boy settled down in a nearby chair to watch Sandy work the food-flavor charm on the godling.

[Highfort]

Minerva's comment on the cocaine left Septimus uttering a nervous laugh as a cup of Earl Grey was placed in front of him, "Yes, that's more my speed, I think. No sense in dying on the eve of my election."

Sipping the hot beverage, the cyborg eyed the envelope with some confusion, "Death? Ah, yes, right."

The memory of having his chest splattered across the cave ceiling during the carnival came to mind and he winced slightly, "Yes, that death. Well, if you see Fram, please thank him for the money. I wasn't going to press charges but I suppose a death is as good a reason as any."

Opening the envelope, Septimus read over the bank statement with widened eyes as Ocho explained the large sum that the cyborg had just inherited, "Most excellent, I should say. More funds for public works and for any worthwhile political causes I see fit to pursue. And the rent - was getting worried Mr. Demens might come calling one day and ask for the usual plus utilities. Thank you, Mr. Ono, you've done a fine job and earned your ten percent, if that's not too patronizing a comment."

Amanda's comments silenced the cyborg as he cocked his head. Of course, she was a lawyer, she knew what angles to play to springboard legislation from cases. But equal rights? Though a pillar of Confederation society, Septimus wasn't so sure Bielefield was big on equal rights for non-humans as well as humans. Compartmentalizing was standard practice in Confederation politics: grab what you could and plan around what you couldn't get, and the notion of going for civil rights as a gestalt rather than in pieces felt to him a bit risky, not to mention dangerous for the constituency.

Turning to the thade for clarification, he saw two newspapers pulled from the space weasel's pockets and his cybernetic eye focused on them. One was clearly Bielefielden newsprint but the other - the Underworld? Clarification led to the startling conclusion that Septimus was not bridging a gap between two groups, he was bridging a gap between two worlds. Minerva voiced this succinctly and the cyborg set down his teacup to respond.

"Supernatural creatures, eh?" he sighed, rubbing his forehead, "Well, that's a new one. The Confederation officially issued a statement indicating that there were no such things; I suppose I'll have to revise that on my next trip home."

He chuckled at the notion, "In any case, illogical and impractical concepts are no issue - quantum mechanics is hardly logical even to the most seasoned student and, well, the Confederation has practically trademarked impractical when it comes to some of its harebrained schemes. But bridging two worlds, that's concerning me. Why would supernatural beings - who have been subject to historical discrimination, according to your account - see us as potential allies? Xenos, cyborgs, and athropomorphs are all new to the party, we haven't been overtly oppressed until now. And it's common practice amongst ruling classes to pit the plebes against each other by race, religion, or some other facile trait, so we can expect our opponents to fan the flames of any resentment from the supernatural side."

He took another sip of the tea to clear his throat before adding, "And I don't see why Neste has to have permission from Mr. Bodkins to protect me or to do anything, for that matter. Beyond a supply of carpules, I fail to see the reason she needs a handler, it's demeaning."

[Giovenith]

"He is beautiful," Giovenith smiled at the colorful bird, taking a few steps toward the cage but keeping a distance comfortable for the creature. "Sweet thing!"

There was much going on and much to do, but there was little sense in being worked up into a frenzy just yet. If bad news delivered, they'd deal with it when it came, but for now there's was nothing wrong with relaxing themselves.

"Yes, before the day is through!" She hopped back to the sorcerer's apprentice, clapping her hands together gleefully. "It's drawing to an end."

[Northwest Slobovia]

Pub

"The Underworld - that hidden, supernatural society - has its own way of handling litigation. It might surprise you to learn that the gods themselves get caught up in red tape. Septimus' case would have been brought before the pantheon, not the local city court. Septimus' legal claim to the money is firmly grounded in the Underworld, and not this mundane world we all live in."

Amanda listened intently to Ocho's description of Bielefeld's supernatural world and its legal system, breaking away from his explanation only long enough to skim the first page of the Underworld Times. A legal system and a newspaper: they're so much more organized here than we were back home. But here they are many, but at home we were few, so perhaps it follows logically from that. I never expected to find a newspaper about the supernatural world, much less one I could read without the Sight.

She raised a hand slightly from the table as Ocho finished explaining the details of Septimus' settlement. "Another bar I'll need to qualify for? How does one prepare for a supernatural bar exam? I'd expect it's a bit more challenging than the city's examination."

Amanda waited for an answer, then softly said, "That was an excellent answer about the supernatural courts, Ocho, but I think I may have unknowingly asked the wrong question. Let me try again. What are the rights of supernaturals" -- Amanda slowed down to carefully enunciate the next two unfamiliar words -- "xenos, anthros, and so on in regard to the city's laws? We thought we had a case with Sweet--". Amanda stopped and explained to Minerva and Septimus: "Bruno Sweet's shop was burned down, and the city police didn't try to stop it. He was a ... rat-man, an anthro. But he's dead now, and it seems there's no case for other reasons." She turned back to Ocho. "So what rights did Sweet have? Or any of us? Mr. Itum is considered fit to hold office; that's a major political right for any oppressed minority. It's that sort of things that I should have asked about, had I known there were two parallel legal systems at work."

"If I may add a personal question, how does Sandy fit into these legal systems? As far as the city's concerned, he's human. But he's also a sorcerer: he works magic, he has the Sight and the Art. Where we're from, that makes him a supernatural being, because the Sight and the Art let him interact with the supernatural world. Is he considered to have standing in the supernatural legal system?"

Amanda decided to skip mentioning Sandy's main connection to the supernatural world. He'd gotten cautious about who knew what about him, and while he trusted Minerva personally, if Hans could have traitors, so could she. Since Giovenith and Marcus accepted Pegasus' identity without question, the other supernaturals should too, and that should be all the standing Sandy needed... should he wish to take that form to make his case.

"But bridging two worlds, that's concerning me. Why would supernatural beings - who have been subject to historical discrimination, according to your account - see us as potential allies? Xenos, cyborgs, and athropomorphs are all new to the party, we haven't been overtly oppressed until now. And it's common practice amongst ruling classes to pit the plebes against each other by race, religion, or some other facile trait, so we can expect our opponents to fan the flames of any resentment from the supernatural side."

Amanda sighed, and drew a deep breath before speaking: this was all too familiar to her. "Mr. Itum, that's been done time and time again here too. If the supers can't learn from the civili-- excuse me, the mundanes' mistakes, they're digging their own graves."

She paused before going on. "About seventy years ago, there was a brutal, genocidal war fought on Earth. One side, the Nazis, sought to wipe out the Jews, a tiny religious minority that was also subject to historical discrimination. But not just the Jews: the Nazis slaughtered all sorts of people, including inconvenient intellectuals. One of those intellectuals survived the Nazis' prison camps, and left a cautionary poem. I can't quite remember the words, but I've got the general sense of it. Let me adapt it to fit our situation, since we may need to have PR run with it:

First they came for the anthros, but I didn't speak out, because I was not an anthro.
Then they came for the xenos, but I didn't speak out, because I was not a xeno.
Then they came for the cyborgs, but I didn't speak out, because I was not a cyborg.
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

It may need more work for our purposes, but we need to convince all the groups of the poem's essential logic: if they let us be divided and conquered, we will be."

The brief exchange between Minerva and Septimus made Amanda wonder. Neste? The diplomat Mr. Itum mentioned this morning? If she's here, that casts his prior recklessness in a new light: not just diplomats, maybe lovers? Young people often do stupid things for love. And now she's posted as his bodyguard, too.

[OOC: Poem adapted from Martin Niemöller's "First they came"]