Log:Test Your Metal, Scene 5

Test Your Metal 2016/11/06 Daemon Grimm 5

It's been very nearly a full year since Grimm escaped the Sauras.

A full year has almost passed since she came to understand things about her beau, [Very] Special Agent Malcolm Gibbs, that he does not even know about himself.

Perhaps it has seemed longer.

Maybe it has seemed like less time has passed.

Gabrielle Grimm, after all, has been a very busy lady in the past year. She journeyed to a distant region of the galaxy to meet with members of the true Guild; she's sojourned into the Outer Planes with her mentor to ensure her mentor's continued magical ability; Grimm has battled a team of quasi-humanoid animal-people; and Gabrielle has had a good friend die, only to return from beyond the veil. It's only understandable that she hasn't had the time to devote to solving the problem pursuing her boyfriend.

What may not be understandable is why Grimm has felt a certain sense of malaise over the past month. There is a growing sense of dread as she approaches the one year anniversary, such as it is, of her first trip to the Colavrassa where she knew what it was. Even now, Gabrielle Grimm finds herself headed for the Hackers' Rage at the god awful hour of 2:30 in the morning on what is only technically a Monday. Cold sweat may still cling to her as she tries to forget about the awful dream that roused her from sleep.

Images of swords gnashing like teeth while something ancient and powerful and furious roars its supernal victory in the background. Pulsing lights, hissing steam, and flashing electrical arcs still dance behind her eyelids as she makes her way to a place where she need not unload her psychic burden upon Malcolm, the man whose destiny, she knows, is deeply intertwined with that very psychic burden.

Grimm needed the walk to get some fresh air. Her sleep is always plagued by nightmares, but they're usually unspeakable horrors and distant realms. And while this dream was one of those, they felt like they pertained to the one most dear to her.

Maybe she had hoped the talk of terrible fates would be made less real as time went on. Emergency and distraction after distraction made it seem very much like a dream. But that awful foreboding feeling helps remind her that it was very much real.

Guilt weighs down on her for not having done something about it sooner. But really, what could she do? How could she even explain something she doesn't fully understand? When she broke the news to Malcolm, he seemed so tortured, so she wanted him to forget. But she didn't intend to forget along with him!

What she needs right now is a drink. And a friend. And she's only got a few of those. She texts Daemon for once with the demand for a meetup.

<>

The screen illuminates her face in the gloomy late hours until the screen auto-shuts off. With a sigh, she keeps walking and hopes Daemon is free at this hour.

Waiting in the wings, well techincally his usual booth with a fresh round of drinks in front of him. There's even one for Grimm. Despite the fact that she never messaged him directly.

He's wearing a black leather jacket with an asymmetrical cut- Some kind of overly complex buckles lead up to his left shoulder instead of buttons.

<> Daemon replies instantly as he changes the track on the overhead speaker.

A much darker, moodier electronica track begins playing. Already a little buzzed, Daemon raises his drink to no one as he completes the transfer of a Legal Liability Firm into the name of one of his aliases.

Waiting in the wings is Daemon*, well techincally his usual booth with a fresh round of drinks in front of him. There's even one for Grimm. Despite the fact that she never messaged him directly.

He's wearing a black leather jacket with an asymmetrical cut- Some kind of overly complex buckles lead up to his left shoulder instead of buttons.

<> Daemon replies instantly as he changes the track on the overhead speaker.

A much darker, moodier electronica track begins playing. Already a little buzzed, Daemon raises his drink to no one as he completes the transfer of a Legal Liability Firm into the name of one of his aliases.

Rather than arriving instantly as is her usual mode of transportation, Gabrielle is actually a little later than ten minutes. It's been so long since she's just walked to places further than a few blocks that she's forgotten how to estimate her time of arrival.

It's about sixteen minutes after her text that the door swings open and Gabrielle steps in, looking moodier than usual. She strides straight for the usual booth and slides in across from Daemon. The corner of her mouth tugs up in a half smile as she sees he already has her drink waiting for her.

"Thanks. I really needed this," she says as she scoops up her whiskey sour and starts drinking it at record speed. As a note, this is the only place she ever orders a Whiskey Sour. Mainly because the drink options are limited.

"Maybe I should have ordered you the fishbowl?" Daemon says, trying not to look worried. He's grateful he wears a full mask at times like this.

Naturally he's worried about why his friend- who can teleport between universes or across planets, is 6.58 minutes late.

"What's going on with you, Grimmace? Late isn't usually your style." He asks curiously with a smart look on his face. He's decided to play up the annoyed angle- if only to keep things 'easy'.

"Needed some time to get my head on straight," Grimm murmurs after drinking half her whiskey sour before setting it down. She'll be feeling that pretty soon, knowing her low alcohol tolerance. The truth of the matter is, she needed time to figure out how to convince Daemon to help her where Malcolm is involved. The only answer she could come up with is just telling the truth.

"And I think I'm in over my head. I...I dunno, I needed someone to talk to. Maybe to help." She takes a deep breath. Oh yeah. She's already feeling the alcohol go straight to her head. "It has to do with Malcolm," she says after that pregnant pause.

Daemon was ready to jump on in the moment Grimm said she needed help. But her slow segway to the subject of Very Special Agent Malcolm Gibbs makes him divert his leap to her aid. Instead he takes his shot back.

Setting the glass on the table he regards Grimm a moment. Really he's just letting her squirm for the sake of it- he's already decided to help. But he wouldn't dare let that on so easily.

"Oh- Mr. Malcolm Gibbs. My favorite Special Assh- err Agent. What kind of nonsense has he gotten into now? Stalking charges you need expunged? Oh or has his obsession elevated itself to the Grand Puuba of 'Love', also known as Domestic Violence?" yes he went there. He's an asshole.

And he gets a sharp glare from Grimm for going there. "He's -not- like that. He'd never hurt me. He was just under some sort of mental influence that time."

She frowns a little more. "And I know that sounds like I'm making excuses, but it's the truth," she says firmly. "I know what abusive assholes are like. He's not one of them. Not by a mile. He's a good man. Better than the both of us. Too good for me, that's for sure."

Her foot bounces on the floor in agitation and unease. "And it's something magical in nature. It's...complicated."

"Mmhmm... sure." Daemon says absently as he continues to consider his choice here. He certainly can't let his only friend ride out even if it is for Malcolm Gibbs.

"It's always complicated with magic..." Daemon says as he orders another round, this time though instead of a single shot of whiskey he orders an entire bottle. Top shelf- well top shelf for the Rage anyways.

"I hate magic." He grumbles as he reads her body language. He can't stop himself from smiling as her foot tapping highlights what he already knows.

He lets a few more moments pass like this.

Then suddenly, his demeanor calms and he asks, "When do we leave?"

Grimm stares down at her drink, prepared for Daemon to turn her down because of who she's trying to help save. In fact, she fully expects it as he strings her along, her expression falling to a despondent one as she tries to figure out how she'll take on such forces on her own. Hell, even two isn't nearly enough.

So when Daemon finally asks her the question, her head shoots up in surprise. She must not have heard that right. "L-leave?"

"Well this problem of yours isn't at the Rage, isit? Cause if so- I'll order another round and we can see about drying this place out." Daemon says, grinning from ear to ear. He sits back and crosses his hands in his lap.

He assumes its a suicide mission from her body language. And frankly it has him worried. 'Finally a good reason to dislike Malcolm Gibbs!' He thinks to himself.

It probably is, and Gabrielle just hasn't fully realized that yet. Her shoulders drop and her foot stops tapping as relief washes over her from knowing she's at least got another person at her back.

"Well, that's the tricky part. I'm not -exactly- sure where to go next. But it's definitely not here."

She takes another sip of her drink. That sip turns into her polishing off her drink. "But yeah. It's one of those 'F***in' magic' deals. And it'll probably involve going to another plane, but...I don't even know if that'll fix anything."

She leans back in her seat and sinks down. "He has a curse on him. Something that makes Fate conspire to try and kill him. Chances are it could infect me, too. And right now? There's nothing I know that'll fix that."

She rubs her face and mutters into her hand, "The thing we can maybe help with is dealing with this emperor...called the 'Blue Sovereign' or something. He's searching for something that was stolen from him. And I think he believes Malcolm stole it..."

"That's... actually a good name." Daemon says, considering Grimm's words. He seems like he's purposefully ignoring her worry about this being impossible or even pointless.

"We'll worry about Fate when it comes knocking. For now, lets deal with Aqua Blue. So what do we know about this guy?" Daemon asks while he simultaneously searches his database to see if there is anything to be gleaned.

Grimm shifts a little in her seat as she folds her arms over her chest. "He's an emperor of some other dimension or plane Malcolm called the Colavrassa. He accidentally ended up on some other plane as a kid after some villain attack. I didn't want to push him on the details. He didn't seem to want to talk much about it. But that place was how he got his metal powers."

She starts feeling the need for another drink already as she eyes her empty glass. "He survived because some Colossan metal race helped him. That was then. Now? The Blue Sovereign has begun enslaving and wiping them out in search for this power he feels was stolen from him. And some of his bloodhounds have found their way to this world. Sarkterrans or sharkturbans or something. But they're nasty, and dangerous."

"Well, you know I can't stand around and let some asshat commit genocide- all the better he calls himself an Emperor. I can add Emperor-Eliminator after Dragon-Slayer on my business cards." Daemon says hefting his bottle and pouring himself another shot.

"So what's the mission? Infiltration? Exfil? Elimination? Empower a local minority with overwhelming firepower and else-world funding?" He seems equally ok with all of these options.

While Grimm relays her tale of woe, ill-fortune, and possible interdimensional theft, Daemon begins making use of his network connections to do background on this "Blue Sovereign" fellow that Grimm seems all hype about. He turns up several high level law enforcement dossiers from around the turn of the century - http://www.championsmush.com/wiki/Sovereign - that don't appear to have anything to do with Grimm, Malcolm, or the incidents in question.

Fortunately, Grimm provides another angle to approach research. Daemon refines his search terms and alters his paradigm somewhat, as a computer hacking boss like himself should, to produce tangible results. By the time Grimm is working her way through her second whiskey of the night, Daemon has the complete police file on a metahuman incident, mystical/transdimensional, at the Metropolitan Museum in New York City.

One "Professor Mysterion" apparently broke into the museum and erected some kind of mystical force dome around an exhibit of ancient religious artifacts, collecting an entire middle school field trip as hostages in the process. NYPD was summoned and responded with the aid of local heroes "Pulverer" and "Redwing", but were largely held at bay by the force dome until Professor Mysterion attempted to use one (or more, reports are sketchy here) of the tweenage hostages as a sacrifice for some kind of blood ritual he was attempting to perform.

At this point, another of the hostages - a 12 year old Malcolm Gibbs - charged the Professor and interrupted the ritual. Interrupting Professor Mysterion is reported to be what caused the force dome to collapse, permitting Redwing and Pulverer to apprehend Mysterion. Unfortunately, Malcolm Gibbs was sucked into some kind of interdimensional mystic vortex opened by the Professor's aborted ritual...

Which is where the file gets very scattered. There are appendices for legal proceedings based on kidnapping, child endangerment, and several other felonies related to violence against a minor. Daemon may have to spend a few days mapping out exactly what the ADA and detectives were trying to do to Professor Mysterion in the courts.

Grimm gets a very dark, sour look on her face when he gives her the list of options. "If he so much as tries to scuff Malcolm's armor? Elimination with extreme prejudice." That's the whiskey, anger, and protectiveness talking. "But I have no idea what the mission is."

She scowls a little more before something doesn't quite click. She peers at him a moment. "Did you say Dragon-Slayer?"

Daemon reads through these files almost as fast as a computer would- his eyes fluttering every once in a while as a new file is scanned into memory.

Daemon's attention is called away from the records a moment at Grimm's ferocious response. "Poor kid... he was probably scared out of his min... huh?" He mumurs as he turns to look at Grimm.

He replays her question in his head.

"Oh- yeah. Killed a dragon. Some elfs or some silly shit- I dunno, I could have been hallucinaing. But that Nexus chump and Sasha were both there. Plus I got the killing blow- so I figure I better advertise that." His voice is full of pride and he doesn't sound like he's bullshiting. Why would he? He hates all that magic stuff.

"You were right- he really was a scrawnly little thing. Still talk about a lucky break..." Daemon says as his eyes flutter again just behind his bug-lenses. He almost sounds sympathetic.

Grimm stares at Daemon cluelessly as he seems distracted. "Huh? What kid? Are you multitasking again?" she huffs a little, more concerned about the current dilemma.

She listens to his tale and looks rather skeptical. "You need to stay off the drugs," she says flatly, seeming certain it was a hallucination. She thinks of the Sauras she encountered, and avoids a shudder at remembering what happened when she offended it.

And then Daemon makes more comments that don't make sense. "What...what are you talking about now?" Her poor mind can't keep up with Daemon's.

"Sorry- I was multitasking. Malcom Gibbs- appearantly he really did earn that nerd card." Daemon says blinking a copy of the image to Grimm's PDA. He smirks mischeviously after that, he's sure Very Special Agent Malcolm Gibbs wouldn't appreciate that picture getting around.

He lifts his shot glass as Grimm's device chimes or vibrates or whatever setting she has it on.

"To Malcolm 'String Bean' Gibbs." He chuckles and takes his drink as he waits for Grimm to catch up.

"And I've been chemical free since well before my demise. Some Sims, sure. But nothing serious." He adds.

"Nerd card? What do you mean--"

Grimm hears the beep on her phone and pulls it out, looking at the message alert and the attached image. She looks surprised, then awed as she just stares at the image. She's quiet for a few moments.

"I...wow. I never saw an actual picture of him as a kid," she murmurs quietly, still studying the boy she doesn't even recognize. "He...doesn't like to talk much about his younger days. I just know he wasn't always like he is now."

She finally pulls her attention from the photo to look at Daemon briefly. "You...you said some kid was probably scared out of his mind. Were you talking about Mal...?" she asks, her full attention now coming to bear on Daemon. She looks intensely curious and intrigued to learn more.

"Yeah- just going over the various reports on what happened the day he stopped Professor Mysterif***." Daemon says, sending a copy of the police report and the court documents related to the Bad Professor's case where Malcolm was concerned to Grimm now that she's caught up. He doesn't really have the same sense of 'privacy' as most other people. Its really a sliding scale.

"Sounds like Malcolm has made a life of being a pain in the a**." He says off-handedly. More to be difficult than anything.

He sighs. "I've read over everything 5.34 times. I'm glad I'm not a lawyer- or Mysterion. That ADA really ran him down."

Daemon shrugs. "F*** 'em. Sounds like he got what he deserved."

"So that's who he stopped?" Grimm murmurs more to herself as she reads Professor Mysterion's real name. She knows the cliffnotes version Malcolm told her, but there's details being filled in that make her realize the parallels in their experiences with magic. It brings a bit of color to her cheeks.

"Good on him for stopping that guy," she mutters, saving the photo of Mal as a kid, just as a keepsake. "But I don't think Professor Mysterion knew anything about the Blue Sovereign. Not sure Mal does, either, really. Hope that SOB is rotting in Stronghold for taking kids hostage..." she growls quietly. Just more proof that most magic users can't be trusted.