Log:Smoke and Mirrors on the Water

2014/12/22 Grimm Malcolm 1

Nicholston

Nicholston is the historic name for this part of town, though most people would probably say "near the mall". There's a seaside town atmosphere here, especially in summer, though the traffic on Beach and Wharf Streets are a reminder that this is a full city. The tourist industry prevails, embodied in convenience stores, surf rental shops, souvenir stores and restaurants; and at Wharf and Beach is Boardwalk Mall, unquestionably the center for shopping in the city. The most affordable of the bayside housing is also to be found here. Remarkably, there's plenty of parking, which helps the trade of mall and beach alike.

"You know, this is precisely the reason why I am thinking about changing religions," comments Malcolm to no one in particular. Really, who would he be talking to at this point? He's by himself, in a Starguard field operations uniform, in a back alley in Nicholston, peering around a corner at a rampaging host of ghostly pirates. This is so not a thing he was ever prepared to handle.

Zombies? Sure, no problem. Marauding pirates? They train you for that. Immortal viking raiders? It's a four hour seminar they hold every six months in Starguard's Newfoundland outpost. Semi-corporeal curse victims driven to psychotic bursts of violence as a consequence of their curse? He's seen Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl. But this? This is not a thing they prepare you for in or out of Starguard, at least as far as Malcolm's ever seen.

OHSHI- Ghost bomb just rolled into the alley. Malcolm twists and vaults over the dumpster beside him, hooks his feet on an overhead ladder for a fire escape, and swings himself up onto the second (third?) floor landing of the fire escape just as the small round bomb detonates below. Energy and ectoplasm splatter across most of the alley, sizzling away at the undersides of the fire escape as the smoldering ectoplasm cools back to its normally inert, endothermic state.

"Seriously. The night before Christmas Eve and I'm dealing with ghost pirates?" With all of her holiday shopping done, Gabrielle was at the Neko Cafe to order some of their baked cranberry bliss bars for a Christmas Party tomorrow. And her roommate insisted these were the best bliss bars ever. As it becomes her turn to order, Grimm steps up to the counter and says, "Yes, I'd like uuuuuuuuhhhhh..."

It's like her brain stops. Her eyes are looking at the display, but her face goes through a range of peculiar expressions. From recognition, to puzzlement, to confusion, to just one eyebrow raising up.

To others, it may looks like she's being assaulted by a mentalist or having a stroke. But she's just reaction to what her shadow sight is revealing in the alley just behind the kitchen counter ahead of her. That's the problem with having supernatural senses. They can be very distracting. A bit like having ADHD. And ghost pirates are very distracting. She recognizes Malcolm, Oooo, and uniform. Nice. Veeeery nice--ghost pirates? Wait, really? Ghost pirates? On Christmas?

And then AHHHH! Bomb! "Gaah!" Grimm suddenly ducks down and shouts, "Get down!" Everyone else looks at her like she's crazy, until they hear the ghost bomb go off a few moments later.

The ghost bomb's ectoplasmic residue may cause a sort of supernatural static to appear in Grimm's vision when next she tries to look through the wall. It's like trying to see through a thick snowstorm, it's possible, but hard to do at the same time. Of course, if she looks through another wall or, say, the front windows, she might notice that there are more ghostly pirates rampaging through the streets.

As a matter of fact, there is a spectral sailing ship moored to a particularly tall fire department building just up the block. This is probably the source of all of ye olde scurvy dogs. Certainly its where the hundred or so phantom pirates are spilling from and returning to with random scads of loot. Several Starguard scout vessels are circling the ship in the air, apparently just out of easy cannon range - although it's impossible to determine if the problem is the pirates cannot angle the cannons adequately or if they are somehow limited in their ability to launch ectoplasmic deathblasts that far from their ship.

Malcolm climbs onto the railing of the fire escape and perches there, squinting down at the streets below while tactical data uploads to his visor. It seems vaguely out of place with the rest of his uniform, maybe it's not supposed to be there? One hand reaches out to the side as liquid metal streams out of his sleeve to stretch outward from the palm of his hand in the shape of a katana. After a few moments of gradual build up, the katana-like shape hardens into the actual form of a glistening steel(?) katana.

Who needs special senses when there are windows? Which is a blessing, because all that supernatural static gives Gabrielle's brain the equivalent of eye strain looking at it. So soon she has her face pressed up against the glass, her eyes turned upwards at the chaos up the street and above. "Whoa. Seriously?" She's not even angry or upset. Just genuinely surprised. And this deserves a closer look.

Like some japanese ghost that just came out of a TV, Grimm flickers with the sound of dark whispers and vanishes, only to flicker into existance outside and that much closer to the to the ships, floating out of range (she hopes) because she's still behind the firing line of the Starguard scout vessels. And now she's able to see all the hundreds of ghosts and the full scope of the chaotic scene. "Whoa, this is...big..." she murmurs.

"Aaaaaaarrrrrr... It be bigger'n ye be thinkin', lass," sneers a sinister voice from behind and just beside Grimm as she re-materializes outside of the Neko Cafe. Leering at her is a tall, green-white glowing ghost pirate. He looks to be in his mid-twenties, although horribly wracked by decay and sea life - look at the barnacles encrusting his scraggly white-washed beard and mutton chops! - and is wearing little more than tattered burlap pants and some kind of striped muscle-shirt looking thing that's been shredded by time and war.

Beyond him, Grimm can see burlier pirates stripping tourist shops of various goods - jewelry, food, liquor, & money - that are of the most vital interest to pirates. There is something else here though... Grimm can feel it tickling at the back of her mind - something Evil is here, somewhere - practically tormenting her with how well it has disguised itself in the chaos of the pirate raid.

Malcolm drops out of the sky about this moment, plunging his katana through the head of the ghost pirate trying to accost Grimm. It actually carves through the phantom's mid-line before Malcolm actually hits the ground with his feet. He drops into a low crouch, sword arm up-raised and out-thrust to hold the blade inside of the ghost as he cleaves his momentum by absorbing the impact with the ground and then flipping nimbly over himself a few times to twist the blade around inside of the ghost.

For reasons that cannot be adequately explained here, it appears to work. The ghost (gently) explodes into an ectoplasmic mist, leaving a uniformed Malcolm holding an upside down sword in the middle of the street as he turns to look at Grimm.

"Gabrielle. What are you doing here? This is a freaking war zone."

Oh and there's a trio of burly eidolons starting to charge toward Malcolm at the moment, cutlasses and axes at the ready. Too bad he's too busy looking at Grimm to notice the phantoms about to attack him from behind.

"I -see- that," Gabrielle almost stammers at the obvious, but she was clearly surprised at the extent of chaos as she gently bobs in the air. "Thanks for saving me from that gross pirate," she manages a smile amidst looting pirates, scout vessels, and flying pirate ships.

She would've thought the whole place would be radiating evil, but having that one tiny twitch in the back of her skull is driving her nuts. Like a needle of evil in a stack of...more needles, really. "I'd say something odd's here, or out of place, but that wouldn't really make sense." It's always difficult to explain the unseen that she can see and feel. Well, in the case of evil, just vaguely feel its presence. "There's something more here than just the ghosts and the ships. Something evil hidden in the chaos besides just them."

That thing about distracting senses? Only now does she notice the eidolons coming for Malcolm. Her right hand starts charging up with dark energy, and then she suddenly casts her hand out...at Mal!? "Mal! Behind you!" she warns at the last second as darkness blasts out like a ray, raking along the ground behind Mal. She clips the two Eidolon's closes to Malcolm and knocks them back several meters, giving Malcolm time to react and deal with the third eidolon.

"Your hand is glowing black," observes Malcolm, brow furrowing as he considers the implications of Gabrielle floating in the air and generating some sort of luminescent-but-not field of blackness around her hand.

And then she shouts for him to look out.

Malcolm instinctively jukes left, twisting sideways so that he can track the dark ray cleaving through the space he occupied a split second earlier. Two eidolons explode in gentle, misty sprays of ectoplasm as Malcolm stares at the third spirit. Armed with a massive, double-headed axe one has to wonder if this isn't the spirit of a Viking, just look at that beard and all of that sea-rotted leather!

Both Malcolm and the Viking spirit land in striking range of one another as they dodge Gabrielle's Shadow Beam Cannon. They pivot toward one another, swinging blades in mirrored arcs. Sparks spray from the colossal, ringing impact of axe and katana. Grimm gets the impression that both blades may have chipped and cracked from the dual strikes. Malcolm bounds back and to the right a half-step before he sweeps in, katana trailing behind him as its blade visibly restores its cutting surface.

While the Viking spirit is still recovering from the strike, Malcolm carves through the ghost once. Twice. Thrice! He whirls around to face Grimm, katana inexplicably held in a reverse grip as he studies her.

"You have super-powers?! Did I miss that part during our last date?"

Grimm isn't usually shy about using her powers. But she also doesn't think about announcing them, either. "Er...yeah. I do," she says with some embarrassment as she floats there. "Did I not mention it? I thought you probably knew," she says sheepishly. "Sorry. I wasn't trying to keep it a secret or anything. They're still new to me, so I don't really think about..." she just shakes her head after apologies try to spill out. "I'll apologize and make it up to you later. Ghost pirates and vikings?" she motions to the chaos and looting around them. Not to mention the floating ghost ship. "How can I help?"

It takes a moment for Grimm to process something, then suddenly she blushes. Date? He said date! So...it was officially a date and not just hang out time? She grins a bit smittenly to herself, then snaps out of it. Right! Ghost pirates! People to save! Things to fight! She gets her head back in the game.

Malcolm trips over his tongue somewhere in the middle of a question that Grimm can't actually hear over cannonfire from the ghost ship lodged between The Sand Bar and Nicholston's infamous Maryland Blue - a local gay bar, actually named for the crabs, but frequented by various members of the CBPD - that blow out some scenic storefronts up the block from our heroes! His verbal trip up may be because of that blush and smitten little smile.

"You said something was off here, right? Can you be more specific?" intones Malcolm, shouting over the sounds of the Starguard scout craft using medium-impact blasters on the ghost ship.

Twisting sharply, Malcolm's katana reverts into a liquid metal state in his hand, shrinking and curving sharply as he narrows his eyes at something past Grimm. He winds up as the metal takes the shape of a boomerang and lets it fly, turning to look at Grimm. "Otherwise, back me up. I'm going to try to get on the ship and back it off shore again."

"WHAT!?" Grimm shouts over the cannon fire. And then her shoulders bunch up in surprise and her head whips towards the destroyed bars. What a shame the local favorites got destroyed. The frequent patrons will be in an uproar.

At the question she CAN here, Grimm explains, "Well, off. Definitely evil and malevolent. I can't pinpoint what and where thought...but it's not just these ghosts. It's smaller. More subtle. Maybe hiding. It could be responsible for what's going." It's more like a generic feeling or spidey sense than a specific pin-pointing feel. She knows it's there, but can't really tell where exactly.

She looks up to the ship, shielding her eyes against the lights as she narrows them to gauge the distance. "I think I can get you up there."

The Alumarang returns to Malcolm's waiting hand after smashing a Caribbean-looking pirate dead in the shriveled, dessicated, clam-encrusted face. Exploding into a mist of ectoplasm, the pirate drops four lit Ghost Bombs onto the ground in front of a tourist shop. No reason to bore you with the resultant violence, but one must note the artistic way the ghost of the building smolders under the influence of the sizzling ectoplasmic discharge. Also look at all of those poor, poor snowglobes.

"Let's go then. I'll handle the ship, you handle the ghosts. Hopefully we won't ruin Christmas," intones Malcolm. He offers a hand to Grimm, smiling cheerily as he brandishes the Alumarang.

For a moment - only a moment - Grimm would swear the source of that evil she feels is in front of her as she surveys the ship. It's gone as soon as it was there though. Now she could swear it's more in the general direction of North Beach. How weird.

Grimm blinks a few times at the ship, her brow furrowing at the strange sense, then looks towards North Beach. "Weird...that...that feeling just jumped around," she says to both herself and Malcolm. Then she grins at Malcolm. "Maybe we can even save it?" she says back cheerfully as she reaches out and closes her hand around his.

"Hang on, and get ready to throw that thing," Gabrielle instructs as she looks at the alumarang. "This may be a little disorienting, but you're in Starguard. You're probably used to this sort of thing." She turns her head back to the ship, and the ship's wheel. Then she focuses.

From Malcolm's perspective, everything suddenly goes pitch black and he's surrounded by dark whispers that speak in an incomprehensible language. Or perhaps they're just too quiet to make out. Then it's light again. Bright, safe, comforting...ectoplasmic glowing? He and Gabrielle are now standing on the helm of the ghost ship, right by the ship's wheel.

Malcolm takes an unsteady step after he's back in the light again, eyes swiveling about to examine his surroundings. He looks back at Gabrielle and uneasily inquires, "Who was that guy with the snake voice? I think he was insulting my mother."

Attention to the task at hand returns to the fore of Malcolm's mind as he snaps out of the typical post-teleportation haze. He shakes it off, glances around again to search for targets, and then - reluctantly? - releases Grimm's hand as he darts toward the ship's wheel. Malcolm grapples the ship's wheel as mateys and pirates and vikings and god knows what other variations on the theme zip around. Loot is dropped into the hold, ghosts come and go, things... Seem orderly.

Except that Grimm feels that Presence of Evil again. It's close. Somewhere on the ship.

With a cringe, Gabrielle admits, "Sorry. Don't really know who that was. Just part of the weirdness of where I go In Between. But if that guy insulted your mom: screw that guy." She gazes about at the ghosts whizzing around and doing their work. "There it is again," she murmurs. "That...that presence. It's somewhere here."

She smiles to Malcolm as he gets go and heroicly takes control fo the ship's wheel. "You got this, hero. I'll try and watch your back, and see if I can track down the source of evil. Maybe stopping it will end all of this?" And where would one find such a source? Well, maybe it's in the captain quarters of the ghost ship, enjoying a good laugh at all the plunder it's getting.

"Hmmm. This may require a disguise to avoid getting detected while I search." Pirate ghosts - the things of nightmares. And that's one of the things in her domain of abilities. Gabrielle seems to grow hazy and shimmer as she crafts a realistic illusion around herself. And then she starts glowing, softly in that greenish ectoplasmic way. As she sharpens into view again, she's a ghost of her former self. It's First Mate Grimm! She still looks mostly like herself. But she's glowing and ghostly. And looks dripping wet like a water-logged pirate who drowned at sea. She wears a tailed buccaneer's coat, a partially unbuttoned blouse, buccaneer pants, flared boots, and a belt with a sword and musket attached. Not to mention a large captain's hat. The clothes look worn and tattered in places, and also as clinging wet as her hair, but she lacks the barnacles and grossness of most of the ghosts.

She salutes Malcolm and says, "Wish me luck!" She jogs down the steps leading from the helm down to the main deck, then turns towards the door leading into the Captain's Quarters as a hunch.

Malcolm turns around and stares at Grimm. There is a very, very long pause and Malcolm inadvertantly sets the wheel a-spinning hard to port. Only when the ship groans ominously as it SCRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS along the firefighter HQ to which it's moored does Malcolm snap from his reverie.

"... You, uh. Good luck! GOOD LUCK!"

Coughing and muttering to himself, Malcolm tries to get the ship back on his intended course. He also heaves his Alumarang at some dastardly swabbies headed his way, decapitating the first one and clobbering another one in the face. Each time, the Alumarang returns promptly to his hand.

Grimm descends the stairs and arrives on the main deck. No less than five ghost pirates turn to stare at her. There is a very uncomfortable quasi-silence where Grimm has to decide what to do to get past these rotten rapscallions and continue her hunt for EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!

"What are you standing about for, ye sorry, barnacle bottomed bilge drinkin' swabs! We have lootin' to do!" Gabrielle insults the staring pirates, her own voice ghostly and echoing as she moves with a pirate saunter like she belongs there. She points threateningly at the one staring at her the hardest. Yeah, the one with the eye patch. "Watch yer leacherous eyes there, matey, or you'll be sportin' TWO eye patches," she growls.

"ARRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrr!"

"YARRR!"

"YO HO!"

All of the other ghost pirates turn to stare at the one that just shouted that. It's like they're aware of what is about to happen to that pirate. The two pirates at the rear reach out and heave the swabby with the sass mouth at Dread Pirate Grimm.

Malcolm continues to sail the ship in reverse. Even he's not quite sure how he is accomplishing this feat.

Grimm plants her hands on her hips and glares at the sass-mouthed pirate is heaved her way. She lets out a cackling laugh as she plays the part. "Look at this worm riddled milk maid! I think the Cap'n wants a word with ye, ye lazy lay-about." She stares impatiently at the swabby. "WELL!? What're ye waiting for, ye sluggard! A flowery invitation? Get walking!" Perhaps he'll lead her to where she needs to go.

Thoroughly defeated by reprimand, the swabby floats to his feet and starts bobbing along toward... Somewhere. His mateys cough, hack, and generally shirk responsibility for him before turning back to loading the cargo hold full of stolen booty!

Grimm is likely to go on her way unmolested for now.

Malcolm continues working on backing the ship up. This is a difficult procedure considering it is sail- and ectoplasm-powered. Do you know the mileage on wind and ectoplasm? It's almost as wasteful as an H2!

Grimm avoids exhaling in relief as they wander off. She watches where the swabby starts bobbing off to. And it's not where she was expecting the captain to be. She slowly steps backwards to the door to the Captain's Quarters. Just so she can take a peek while keeping an eye on where the swabby is leading so she can follow him afterwards.

Standing beside the captain's door while still facing the deck, she reaches behind her for the knob, opens the door, and peers inside. It's not exactly stealthy, since she's glowing and ghostly. But she doesn't have to be too stealthy since she mostly looks like she belongs here.

Grimm opens the door to the Captain's chambers. She is likely surprised to find herself in what appears to be a high tech control room, more like something out of a Hollywood editing room than a late Age of Piracy tall masted sailing ship. Actually, that is precisely what it appears to be. Did she just pay attention to the man behind the curtain?

Malcolm continues to steer the ship. Ghosts are starting to notice that the ship is getting further and further from the epicenter of their crimewave. There are a lot of ghostly pirates starting to stream back toward the ship and Malcolm at this point. He frowns and puts on his game face, metal starting to bleed out of his pores to encompass his body in living steel - or whatever kind of metal he's made out of. Fortunately Grimm is not on deck to mourn the absence of Malcolm's Starguard BDUs.

Speaking of Grimm, she slowly becomes aware of something in her vicinity. The ache that is her awareness of a Presence of Evil grows steadily worse now that she's in the Captain's Chambers. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVVVVVVVVVVVILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL is growing nearer, though it's not quite clear what direction it's coming from. CURSE YOU AND YOUR SHIFTY, SHADOWY, DIFFICULT TO PINPOINT WAYS, EVIL! CURSE YOU!

Also: CURSE YOU DICE! CURSE YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOU!!!!!

Grimm will mourn their absence later. Or may already be doing just that, since she's out of line of sight. But then she gets distracted by peeking behind the Wizard's curtain. Ghosts. Tech. And evil? What on earth is going on? And there it is again, that EEEEEEEEE-VIIIIILLLLLEE presence that creeps along her skin. Like she's being watched but can't find the source. It prickles and bothers her that she can't focus on it with all the noise.

Maybe the cannons are technical instead of ghost powered? Maybe none of these are actually ghosts? She runs to the most important looking control center, trying to find some labels or figure out how to turn off the ghosts or the cannons without cutting the motors, because Malcolm still needs to be able to get the ship out of the city.

Grimm finds the biggest control panel and starts examining it for labels. Most of the controls are labelled with abbreviations that are not at all helpful. It takes her almost a minute to start making sense of the patterns - if she's reading these things right, she is dealing with something not unlike a soundboard. Despite the growing sensation of creeping, crawling agony over her back as EVIL gets closer, Grimm makes some progress in controlling the ship.

Weapon systems start deactivating - cannons, Ghost Bombs, pistols, blunderbusses - and the ship's luminous surface erodes away in a rather significant hurry. Forge - Grimm can see him on a monitor - stands at the rotten wheel of what appears to be an actual, factual shipwreck affixed to some kind of metal thingamuhwhosits that cannot be understood because of the bad angles on the exterior cameras. He looks perplexed by the rapid onset of decay and the utter loss of ghostly attributes that the ship undergoes.

In spite of this, the ship continues to back up at an agonizingly slow speed. Forge takes the opportunity to wrench the long gun out of a pirate's hands and jam it into the steering wheel, locking the ship into its course. Forge promptly wheels around and slams an ironized fist dead into the ghost's jaw. The ghost's head snaps back violently and he just keels over backward, apparently unconscious. Also with a lot of probably broken teeth.

Well this is... This is different.

If only it weren't for those meddling kids! Why don't they have a dog? It's got to be around there somewhere. Maybe down below. Grimm toggles switches, presses buttons, turns down dials and sliders, kicks the controls. It seems to be having some effect. She looks up at the monitor and watches Malcolm, grinning a little. NOW she can mourn the loss of the uniform. "Hah. Kick their butts, Mal." She can also provide encouragement even if he can't really hear her.

And then...her shoulders hunch up at the sense of evil around her. Something...awful. She whips her head around to look behind her, holding her breath as she searches for what she expects to be creeping up on her based on the feel. But she's also seen a lot of horror films. She looks up, just in case.

Forge shifts tactics as he finds himself facing off with a knot of ghosts. One gets the impression they are verbally haranguing him - probably with lame things like 'You can't take all of us!' - as they advance on the metal man. Both fists shift, their metal coating softening before extending outward into the rough shape of nightsticks.

With a vengeance Forge lurches into action, targetting three ghostly goons approaching from behind him and thus beyond the steering wheel. Forge clearly underestimates the bona fides of the first ghost, who nimbly dodges out of the overhead smash Forge was intending to use on him. He whips around, lashing out with his other baton to catch the second goon under the chin before swinging around to forearm baton strike the guy in the chest, sending the ghost hurtling backward and into the railing.

A moment later, Forge drives the butts of both batons into a third ghost's gut, doubling him over before performing an over-shoulder throw, heaving him to the opposite railing of the steering deck. Forge should be able to hold out for a while, he certainly looks capable of it at the moment, if nothing else! Still, Grimm should probably figure out a proper solution to this riddle on the quick. If only she didn't have this agonizing sensation that EVIL was right behind her! OR ABOVE HER?!

No. Nothing there. Where is thi- No wait. Evil /IS/ above Grimm. There's some kind of insulated room directly above Grimm. It features some kind of weird electrical shielding that is fuzzing out her Shadow Senses. Evil sits in the shielded room above her, but she didn't see any sort of access door when she was out in the corridors or on deck. How do you get in there from down here?

Grimm lets out a soft sigh of relief when there's nothing behind her. And then she looks up...whew! No monsters th...there...? She squints. Like someone trying to read without their glasses. Ah hah! So...there it is?

She looks to the monitor to see how Malcolm is holding up, and can't help but smile as she watches him kick some serious butt. "Good, he's okay for now. But it's time to pull off the mask on this mystery villain."

Her pirate illusion fades away, and just as Gabrielle is starting to look normal, she starts to become ghostly transparent again, and darkens into a shade of her former self. From her back sprouts shadowy feathered wings that lack all the fine textures of real feathers, but look enough like them at a distance. The swings spread and fan out, beat once, and she lifts up towards the ceiling with her hands outstretched in case it's shielded from her.

GOOD NEWS, EVERYONE! Neither the ceiling nor the floor above it nor the - what is this? interlocking cages of brass, copper, and charcoal? - stuff in between seems to provide any resistance to Grimm's shadowy form. She freely sinks into the ceiling and drifts upward into the office on the other side of the In Between. It looks kind of like the stereotype of what one pictures when someone says the words 'casting couch'.

Looming over the nautical captain's desk that dominates much of the actual room is a positive behemoth of a man. He stands at least as tall as Malcolm does, maybe even an inch or two taller, with positively ridiculous purple-red hair that's been raked and gelled and possibly even waxed into a monstrous fusion of 2000's frat boy and Elvis Presley pompadour. Decked out in an almost pastel pink business suit and slacks that he inexplicably wears over a starched and pressed white wife beater, he cuts a hairy, almost gorilla like figure - just look at that paunch! - and probably would look even more like one if it weren't for all of the GOLD he's wearing. Rings, belt, two chains, a very nearly nautical grade rope, /AND/ a disco zodiac medallion on a Cuban link chain.

"NO! NO! NO! WHAT ARE YOU MORONS DOIN' OUT THERE?!"

Is that...? Why does it smell like KFC and the Carnegie Deli in here?

This is not exactly what Grimm had pictured as the face of the EEEEEEEEVVVVVIIIIILLLLLL she's been sensing all this time. Well. Not anywhere even close to it. Ugh, is that smell the guy's dinner, or just him? She should take him in on fashion violations alone.

"Call off your minions and surrender while you still can," Gabrielle intones, dark and booming, appearing like some dark, shadowing angel. Or perhaps demon. The wings drops away and disappear as she becomes solid, but she still floats there imposingly. Radiantly. Terribly. Her features are twisted into a nightmarish, unsettling horror.

"Wh- What?! WHO THE FUGGARRR YOUSE?!"

Staggering back a couple of steps, he doesn't get a chance to actually fly backward from the sheer authority of Grimm's full on Eldar/Galadriel attack. Instead he trips over his chair, lands in it and goes rolling back into the rear wall of the room before unceremoniously depositing the Master(?) Villain on the floor on his face.

Actually, it deposits him on his incomprehensibly rotund midsection. His face smacks into the floor a second later when he realizes the wind has been knocked out of his sails. You... You may want to give him a moment to regain his breath and/or his feet.

Grimm stands there impatiently. "I'm your worst nightmare. This ship is MINE now. Give up and dismiss your ghosts," she says as she stretches out her arms at her sides impressively, including four more made of shadow that sprout out from her sides, like some shadowy Shiva. This guy's worst nightmare is probably a bath and a salad more likely.

Okay. That was just the longest moment ever. It took close to a minute for Fatty McFatterthanaton to get back to his feet. He looks distinctly spooked by Galadriel's mere presence, eyes wide and pompadour knocked wildly askew, gaze uncomprehendingly locked on Grimmadriel's features.

"Did they steal act-shul haunted merch?"

He stabs a button on his chair's arm and demands, via intercomm(?), "DID YOUSE GUISE STEAL ACT-SHUL HAUNTED MERCH?! I TOLD YOU NOT TO TAKE ANYTHIN' ANTIQUE OR CREEPY!"

Elsewhere, Forge pants as the Ghostly Horde halts in their tracks. He claws his way a bit higher on what he's going to call the mizzenmast, getting well out of the way of luminous weapons whilst he takes a good old fashioned breather. Beating up ghosts is hard work, no wonder Ghostfist is a musclebabe.

Haunted merch? Why of course! "Return my treeeaasssuuuree...." Gabrielladriel threatens without really being specific. The treasure could be anything in the ship's hold. Best to dump it all, right?

"YOUSE GUISE! YOUSE MAKIN' FOOLS OF YOUSE AND ME BOTH! WHAT GOOD ARE YOUSE IF YOUSE BRIN'IN' ME HAUNTED MERCH AND GETTIN' YOUR BUTTS WHUPPED BY ONE GUY WITH FANCY METAL?!"

Fatso may not be paying attention to Grimm's Evil Angelic self. He may be too entrenched in launching a murderous, Brooklyn-accented hissy fit at his henchghosts. One monstrously sized ham-fist slams down on his desk - when did his desk get so close to him again? - hard enough to jangle all of the usual office supplies set upon it and his rings... And his gold bracelets, hidden up the sleeves of his suit jacket. How much gold can one man wear?!

"DO YOUSE HAVE NO PRIDE?!"

Grimm tries not to cringe at the big cheesy guy. But her act doesn't seem to be getting any results. This guy, seriously. What's it going to take? She's not exactly the brute force type. She can dish out, but she can't really take it. So she tries the less violent way. Which often makes people wish she had just punched them.

She narrows her eyes on focus as they turn entirely black, trying to dredge up the big guy's biggest fears to the surface. Maybe treadmills strike fear into his bacon-clogged heart. Poverty? No more gold? His mom scolding him? He could be a momma's boy at heart. Whatever it is, she will find it...

"YOUSE GUI-" Fatso McFatterson trails off as his head swivels back toward Grimm. It's a bad idea because within a second, he can't actually move his body. His face is twisted and contorted into a rictus of primordial horror directed at Grimm's face.

Smash cut to the inside of his head:

"YOU CAN'T TAX MY SANDWICHES! OR MY DRUGS! MY SWEET, PRECIOUS DRUGS," shrieks Fatty at a shadowy figure in a suit and tie. Said shadowy figure has a helpful name tag that reads: Hello. My name is TAXMAN STEW. You killed my father. Prepare to die!

Grimm returns to looking like, well, plain old Gabrielle. She lets out a relieved sigh and brushes some of her hair back over her shoulders. "Well, then. That seemed to do something." Time to get him to Malcolm so he can arrest him. Oooo, maybe she'll get to see a bust first hand! With Malcolm. In uniform. Or...metal armor. She has a cheshire cat grin on her face.

She steps over to Fatso McFatterson casually, straightening out her expression to something more business-like and less excited. She doesn't really want to touch him with her hand. Some of the cheesiness may rub off. So she grows an extra shadowing limb that reaches to grab ahold of him instead so she can teleport him much like she did Malcolm, right up onto the helm. Or maybe a meter or two above it for extra clearing. She can float. She's not so worried about the big guy's landing, though.

Grimm is probably going to have to burn her outfit. It's never not going to smell like KFC and Subway - or Genoa salami - ever again. She wades through the stink of the room, including a mysterious section that smells like Axe Body Spray. When she touches Fatty Fatso McFattenup it's like touching 1970's bow-chicka-wow-wow.

Moments later, they arrive on the deck. Grimm's gaze is probably directed straight up at toward the main sail, where ghost pirates cluster in the rigging to try to get in cheap shots on Forge. No doubt Forge has seen better days, his metal flesh is knicked up and corroded in places, allowing irregular bits of his uniform to show through. He is sword fighting a pair of animate rollerblades on the mast's cross bar. Inexplicably, the rollerblades have actual bladed discs in place of wheels. Based on the sound they make, these rollerblades may be rolling with buzz saws.

"IF YOU WOULD JUST STAND DOWN, ARRESTING YOU WOULDN'T TAKE HALF AS LONG," howls Malcolm as he dives over a whirlwind slash of rollerblades.

Oh thank heavens, fresh air. Gabrielle looks up at the heavens in praise, where she spies Malcolm (and yay, bits of uniform, but boo, it's because his armor is dinged up!) and...rollerblade buzzsaws? Maybe the ghosts really DID find some haunted merch?

She lets go of Fatsy and wipes off her hands on her pants. Which she's going to burn. Right before a looooong shower with scalding hot water. "Mal! I think I found the ringleader!" As hard as it is to believe that someone dressed up as McFatterson is the mastermind of anything.

Fatty Fatso McFattenblob topples over sideways when Gabrielle lets go of him. He unceremoniously lands on what used to be a marvellous antique cedar sea chest. It is now less marvellous for his presence upon it.

Ghostly pirates look down or over at Grimm and McFattengold. There is a long, almost puzzled pause as they regard the duo. Whilst Forge valiantly struggles against a pair of ambulatory rollerblades - with buzz saws for wheels! - up on the cross bar of the main mast, almost the entire crew surrenders in grand, anticlimactic fashion. A rain of glowing green weapons clattering on the deck around Grimm whilst she's almost immediately innundated by requests for phone calls to lawyers.

Something up on the mast catches Grimm's attention - maybe it was a flash of reflection on Forge's war-worn steel flesh; perhaps a movement of shadow on the deck that didn't belong; could have been one of those indistinct magical sensations - and draws her gaze up as the Starguard scout vessels start shining floodlights down on the ship. Grimm can just tell that she's seeing something no one else is seeing. That something is the guy wearing the ambulatory rollerblades. He's tall and almost skeletally thin, with unexpectedly dark, Mediterranean tan skin and black-brown hair worn Fabio style.

Forge lunges in again, narrowly missing Rollerbladeo Kontos up there, the buzzsaws of one foot grinding wildly against Forge's katana as it swings by. He also appears to be wearing some sort of glittery, bejeweled swashbuckling man-blouse. It, like Fatso, vaguely reminds Grimm of the 1970's. Maybe it's the Scorpio zodiac medallion buttoning the man-blouse together just below his rib cage.

"I'm not the police. But you do have the right to remain silent?" Gabrielle offers at the sudden flood of lawyer requests. She's a bit overwhelmed by the thought that ghosts have lawyers. Or that pirates would be the sort to employ lawyers. Or know about phone calls. "Drop your weapons and put your hands on your heads," she commands the surrendering ghosts.

The floodlight catches her attention again, and she gazes upwards, feeling an odd twinge. She sees Malcolm again, concerned at the sight of his battle-damaged metal skin. She squints angrily at the current person trying to inflict more damage. "What is it with all you retro, style-less vils?" she mutters. Then she notices the odd zodiac medallion. Similar to McFatterson's medallion. Maybe they're working together because of their love of disco. Or maybe there's something about those medallions? But...no magic there. The shirt, however...

She flickers and vanishes, reappearing at mast-level with Malcolm and the buzzsaw blades, where she just hovers in place. Four pitch black tentacles of shadow start to stretch out of the dark aura surrounding her, and one stretches out for Buzzsaw Blade's shirt in an attempt to snatch it and tear it off. The tentacle even grows five smaller tentacles at the tip, akin to a hand.

Forge's eyes widen as he spots Grimm appearing on the mast. He promptly finds himself in the ridiculous position of having to dodge another buzzsaw whirlwind as Flouncy McGlittersalot executes a highly acrobatic series of kicks. That stops when Grimm's shadowy tentacle hand grapples the medallion upon his mid-torso and /WRENCHES/ it loose of both his body and his shirt with a horrendous *RRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIP* of fabric coming apart at the seams.

Sequins and gold dust rain down on the deck below even as Rollerbladeo Kontos sputters and flickers back into appearing on the physical plane. Clutching at his shirt, the tall, skeletal man screams in animal fury before turning his head toward Grimm to fix her with a terrifyingly accusatory stare. Bunching up to start skating in her direction, Skeletos pauses when he's taptaptapped on the shoulder by Forge. Instinctively turning around, he is faced by Forge whose katana is in the process of fluidly reshaping into a sledgehammer.

"Knock. Knock," flatly intones Forge. Grimm suspects Skeletos Rollerblademus' expression just dropped into an expression of horror from the way his body language shifts. A split second later, Forge's sledgehammer comes swinging around in a golfer strike that drills Rollerblades McKenzie dead in the stomach with a horrifyingly meaty *WHOCK* that sends him arcing up and over Grimm before slamming bodily into the open cargo bay of a Starguard scout vessel floating alongside the mast.

"Are you okay?!" calls Forge - presumably to Grimm, but he is pointed at Rollerbladeo Kontos too, so you never know.

The dark tentacle flings the awful shirt down at the deck of the ship before just fading out with the rest of the manifested tentacles. Gabrielle continues to bob up and down slowly in the air, bracing for Rollerbladeo Kontos' surprising wrath over losing a terrible shirt. He should be thanking her, really.

And then Malcolm comes to the rescue with a rather dashing Hole-in-One blow, landing Skeletos in a convenient location to be arrested. "Wow, that was SO crash!" Gabrielle says in awe of Malcolm, completely forgetting his question over how awesome that was. "Er, I think he'll eventually be okay. I'm fine. The other bad guy," she looks down at Fatso McFatterton, "Is a horrible fashion victim, but unhurt for now."

Her gaze turns back to Malcolm, her eyes settline on the damaged parts of his armor. "Are YOU okay?" she asks in obvious concern.

Forge follows Grimm's gaze down toward Fatso. He furrows his metal brow in consternation as he regards the fat sack of humanity. Looking up, apparently satisfied that a battle royale is no longer underway, Forge offers a crooked smile and a shrug of his shoulders. Grimm could swear he flinched in the middle of that shrug, but it's hard to tell when he's all metally and sculptural looking.

Reaching out to one side with his sledgehammer-wielding hand, Forge opens his grip and the sledgehammer inexplicably does not fall - it seems inexorably tied to the palm of his hand - before it suddenly liquefies and the mass of gleaming metal washes back over his arm and most of his torso in a flowing wave that seems to patch up the cuts and gashes in his metal armor.

"I've felt worse," replies Forge - and he surely has, he got run over by a freight train - in a jolly, albeit faintly pained voice, "You do know you're going to have to come back to HQ and get debriefed, right?"

Grimm offers an awkward mix of apologetic grimace and smile. "Er...I do...?" she responds at first. Then stammers to correct herself. "I mean, I don't know. But I have to? What's the debriefing for? I'm just being a good samaritan," she chuckles shyly. A good samaritan who can fly. And turn into a ghost pirate. And tear off clothes apparently. She slowly floats towards the mast Forge is on and alights on it. When she does, she holds her hands out to her sides in a balancing act. "Wow, I can't believe you were able to fight up here," she makes the mistake of looking down and wobbles a bit.

Forge's metal body seems to be repairing itself now that he's not dedicating effort toward sustaining a weapon. He tips his head to one side and smiles, offering a hand to Grimm as he lifts one foot - it's entire sole is pockmarked by short, sharp cleats - to let her in on his secret to success.

"So we know how you captured Kingpin Dotcom down there. Where he was hiding on the ship, what he was doing when you caught him, that sort of thing."

Shrugging a little bit, Forge doesn't seem to think the debriefing is much of a thing. Who knows, maybe it'll only take a few minutes? He offers a warm smile and a shrug, "Now. How about we get off of here so we can wrap this whole mess up?"

Grimm clasps Malcolm's hand and finds her balance with his assistance, smiling at him with relief. And then a giggle at the cleats. "So that's your secret. I wish these shoes had more tread to them."

Now that she's steady, she looks back down at the Kingpin(k). "Ohhh, right. A statement. Sure, I can give all that. It was rather unspectacular. But that guy was pretty gross." She shudders slightly. When the wave of gross feelings passes, she smiles warmly back at Malcolm. "Sure, sounds good. Where to?"

Gently Forge pulls Grimm in close - dare we say, secure? - against his tall, muscular frame with one arm. Twisting just so, Forge looks back toward the junction of mast and cross brace as a metal whip appears in the hand not pressed against Grimm's back. He snaps the cable-like whip out and around the cross bar, near its junction with the mast itself before he lunges out into space, presumably with Grimm in tow.

Swinging out into open space, Forge seems surprisingly sure of himself and Grimm as they gradually swing their way down to deck level. Only then does Forge speak again, tone playful as he comments, "Ding dong. Ground floor, henchmen, swashbuckling accessories, and damsels defeating distressing individuals."

Grimm can't help but smile as she's pulled in close, but boy is she in for a surprise as Malcolm lunges. He may be sure of himself, but she's not yet used to all this, so she wraps her arms around him and clings for dear life. But she's also cheering in excitement. "Whoooo!" Even after they finally land on deck level, she still clings for a few moments to catch her breath. "That is a fun way to travel," she laughs shakily from the rush. Then it turns into a more earnest giggle at the ground floor announcement and talk of damsels.

Aaaand then she realizes she's still clinging to him. She blushes a bit and shyly yet reluctantly lets go. He's on the job, after all. And she has no idea what Starguard's policies are on fraternizing on the clock. "Henchmen. Just what I was shopping for. Where's the aisle for discount henchmen? I need some budget Inept and Disloyal Henchmen."

"They don't get paid to be loyal to their boss," comments a passing Starguard soldier. He's got a line of twenty ghosts, covered in a mysterious green-white powdery substance, beam-chained to one another by handcuffs. It also helps that he's like ten feet tall and has two extra pairs of hands. "They get paid to do a job. If their boss for the job gets caught, they may as well get caught too. Their union has good lawyers."

Forge rolls his eyes and shakes his head. His Colossus' Flesh also starts to recede into his actual skin. Within a few seconds, Malcolm is standing next to Grimm again, in his Starguard BDUs, cutting a handsome, heroic figure. "They're also expensive, I imagine we're missing like fifteen, twenty guys just from that ghostly evaporation trick. Wonder where they got all of this ghost stuff."

It all starts to click. "Wait, so they're not real ghosts?" Grimm asks in some disappointment. "Well...that would explain a thing or two," she murmurs to herself. "Do you guys have a union?" she looks to the tall Starguard soldier, then looks to Malcolm. She starts grinning to herself as she admires Malcolm in his BDUs.

"Nah. They're just the usual goon squad from BAD, done up in some pretty sophisticated tech," replies the tall Starguard soldier. He smirks at Grimm's other question, marching off with his charges. That is distinctly not an answer.

Malcolm cocks his head at Grimm, watching her admiring him for a good minute before he waves his hand in front of her face. Smiling warmly, the tall man inquires, "Earth to Gabrielle. Earth to Gabrielle. Are you there, Gabrielle?"

Grimm blinks suddenly at the hand waving. "Er, oh! I was...just...trying to sense if there was more evil afoot--okay I was staring," she fesses up mid-excuse, since the excuse was failing miserably. She grins slyly. "I was right; you -do- look good in uniform," she murmurs more subtly since his co-workers are about, then folds her arms over her chest and turns towards the henchman lineup to watch them get escorted away. "The Henchmen do just seem like hired hands. But the big guy in pink is downright evil."

"Well yeah, he's Kingpin Dotcom," replies Malcolm, folding his arms across his chest as he steps up next to Grimm again. He cocks his body just so, watching as a couple of burly Starguard medics finish rolling Kingpin onto a gurney for transport to central booking.

"He's like the fifty-third richest guy on Earth and he's probably the greediest guy on the UE Most Wanted list. Also he brings shame on Brooklyn."

"Ohhh, he's from your home town, then?" Grimm comments. "Man, how does a guy like that hit it rich? Just blows my mind." Then she blinks as it suddenly registers. "Sweet, you guys just busted one of the UE's Most Wanted, right here in Colonial Bay! AND saved Christmas." A proud grin spreads from cheek to cheek. "That seems worth celebrating."

"The two most old fashioned ways," explains Malcolm, "Family money and rampant financial crime. Burglary, robbery, money laundering, cybercrime - boy does he live up to his family's legacy of cybercrime."

Malcolm tilts his head to one side, looking over at Grimm. "Sure. Celebrations after debriefing and medical gives me the green light to go about my business."

"Right, debriefing," Gabrielle nods, remembering the work part still involved. She glances at Malcolm with concerned suspicion, looking him over up and down. "Medical? Hey, are you hurt?" she suddenly uncrosses her arms in case action is needed.

"I'm fine. Honest!" Malcolm even puts up his hand in Boy Scout Oath Swearing position. Grimm may suspect he is not, in fact, a Boy Scout. He crosses his heart a few times with one hand and smiles broadly, "Just procedure. I took a few solid hits. Those Ghost Bombs really sting, let me tell you. Like I said before, I've felt worse."

That seems to satisfy Gabrielle enough. Besides, Malcolm's still standing, and performed that heroic tarzan impression just moments earlier. "Alright then, Agent Gibbs, where do you need me for debriefing?" she says with an amused smile.

"Starguard HQ. If you need a lift, you can hop a ride with Scout Six," intones Malcolm. He gestures toward one of the circling Starguard vessels overhead, it's distinguished from the others by its inexplicable status as a flying minivan. You can blame Abigail for this.

"I gotta roll out with Scout Three in a couple of minutes. Abramson on Six is a really good pilot though. You'll be in good hands all the way through the debrief, promise."

Grimm chuckles at the flying minivan. "Sure, I can catch a ride in Scout Six." She turns a smile towards Malcolm and salutes. "I'll hold you to that promise. See you around, Agent Gibbs," she says with a wink, before she turns into a transparent shadow and flickers out of sight.

In Scout Six, Abramson may get a sudden surprise as Grimm flickers into existance within the minivan, still somewhat ghostly as she hovers within. She looks around, gets herself settled so limbs aren't sticking through parts of the vehicle, and then becomes solid, flesh, and blood again. Crashing back into one of the empty seats, she folds her hands behind her head and smiles. "Hi there, Abramson. Gibbs told me to catch a ride to Starguard with you. So how fast does this baby go?" she asks conversationally.