07-03-2023, 17:13:36 PM
#63(b).
>Fire at the dumpster, then get up and help Omen grab the hostage/potential ally while the guards are distracted, then rush in to the building behind Syringe and Kartono.
We zoom in on the two guards by the alleyway. One of them is tall, muscular, with her hair shaved on both sides. The other's more lean, and about a head shorter. They could pass for human, by the bypasser, but there's a subtle hint to both of them; the harsh scales on the former's hands that could almost be mistaken for some naganata-style implant, or the golden, hawkish eyes on the latter. The more inhuman forms were always left reserved for the backburn and backstage, to show power and dominance within the ranks of the company. But for something like simple outdoor guard duty, Mission always liked their beasts to be tame, domesticated, not scaring the suits that walk past. To be tame meant to be in control, and to let that guard down meant to admit weakness, that even Mission would need to resort to the inherent chaos of the universe.
They are quiet, unyielding, against the soft noise of the city. They are focused, so focused that they don't even notice the shot #63(b) makes until it's too late, and the dumpster explodes in a celebration of waste.
The smell is absolutely horrendous. Omen, #63(b), you are both lucky that the people who created your forms had decided that a nose was superflurous.
Kartono, Syringe, and Alzena. You three are not so lucky, as are the guards, who are taken off guard by the sudden explosion and stench. It's enough to take anyone off guard, to release the natural defenses of the little gods and superficial souls that haunt this city. The place is drenched in the anitos of the old world. And trash. It is very much also drenched in trash. Flaming trash, set ablaze by the stray sparks of electricity and magic and the heat of the bullet #63(b) just shot.
All the experienced guards are running to the carnage, including the two in the front. You can tell who the unexperienced ones are, as they're the ones who are already part beast, running in a panic just like the wild animals who they invoke.
They won't notice you.
>Once the shot is made, and once the guards are distracted enough, go back down and sneak into the building using the least occupied entrance at the time. (Most likely the front door, but we'll see.)
> Jump down to the elemental, rooftop by rooftop, making sure to descend in such a way that #63(b) can follow without too much difficulty.
Kartono, Syringe, and #63(b) rush into the building, being greeted by the front lobby; a show of gilded walls and ceilings, bright neon lights that seem to move along with you as your shoes click against the tiled floors. It's not as busy as it could be, but the room still overwhelms you with just how much screens and holograms are in your face, giving reminders about company announments, new products, PSAs about security, social feeds, all the stuff that you've been used to seeing elsewhere, but has always been just the more overwhelming here.
Omen follows behind, but not before approaching Alzena. Alzena, your art, already interrupted by the near-cosmic threat that is the stench of trash on this city block, is now even further approached by this strange man, with nothing behind his brim but shadow.
>Fire at the dumpster, then get up and help Omen grab the hostage/potential ally while the guards are distracted, then rush in to the building behind Syringe and Kartono.
We zoom in on the two guards by the alleyway. One of them is tall, muscular, with her hair shaved on both sides. The other's more lean, and about a head shorter. They could pass for human, by the bypasser, but there's a subtle hint to both of them; the harsh scales on the former's hands that could almost be mistaken for some naganata-style implant, or the golden, hawkish eyes on the latter. The more inhuman forms were always left reserved for the backburn and backstage, to show power and dominance within the ranks of the company. But for something like simple outdoor guard duty, Mission always liked their beasts to be tame, domesticated, not scaring the suits that walk past. To be tame meant to be in control, and to let that guard down meant to admit weakness, that even Mission would need to resort to the inherent chaos of the universe.
They are quiet, unyielding, against the soft noise of the city. They are focused, so focused that they don't even notice the shot #63(b) makes until it's too late, and the dumpster explodes in a celebration of waste.
The smell is absolutely horrendous. Omen, #63(b), you are both lucky that the people who created your forms had decided that a nose was superflurous.
Kartono, Syringe, and Alzena. You three are not so lucky, as are the guards, who are taken off guard by the sudden explosion and stench. It's enough to take anyone off guard, to release the natural defenses of the little gods and superficial souls that haunt this city. The place is drenched in the anitos of the old world. And trash. It is very much also drenched in trash. Flaming trash, set ablaze by the stray sparks of electricity and magic and the heat of the bullet #63(b) just shot.
All the experienced guards are running to the carnage, including the two in the front. You can tell who the unexperienced ones are, as they're the ones who are already part beast, running in a panic just like the wild animals who they invoke.
They won't notice you.
>Once the shot is made, and once the guards are distracted enough, go back down and sneak into the building using the least occupied entrance at the time. (Most likely the front door, but we'll see.)
> Jump down to the elemental, rooftop by rooftop, making sure to descend in such a way that #63(b) can follow without too much difficulty.
Kartono, Syringe, and #63(b) rush into the building, being greeted by the front lobby; a show of gilded walls and ceilings, bright neon lights that seem to move along with you as your shoes click against the tiled floors. It's not as busy as it could be, but the room still overwhelms you with just how much screens and holograms are in your face, giving reminders about company announments, new products, PSAs about security, social feeds, all the stuff that you've been used to seeing elsewhere, but has always been just the more overwhelming here.
Omen follows behind, but not before approaching Alzena. Alzena, your art, already interrupted by the near-cosmic threat that is the stench of trash on this city block, is now even further approached by this strange man, with nothing behind his brim but shadow.