Log:Dystopian Dictatorship Dimension

2019/12/07 Grimm 1

Grimm is a little worried about this idea, but she doesn't plan on any direct engagement. Intel gathering is the plan. Stay undercover. Don't die. Get back in time to study for finals and finish some essays.

Grimm throws on her jacket and plunks down at the desk in her bedroom, flipping open her laptop and quickly scheduling a few emails to send in six hours if she doesn't get back to cancel them.

The first is to Malcolm to let me know what she's doing, and to seek out help to find her if he can. Then she realizes nobody else can easily chart their way to the right dimension based on just general directions. And she navigates through feeling and will. No exact directions to be given.

She does mention Radical might be able to help. She stops and thinks about her ex-professor's "heroic" name. Probably something the prof thought was cool and totally not dated. She smirks and adds a note to only go to him if it's desperate.

Another email is sent to Daemon with the meet of the details, explaining her full plan. She left out chasing evil Porter in Malcolm's email and kept things vague, where as Daemon gets all the terrible idea details.

Timers set, she closes the laptop and stands up. Taking a deep breath, she concentrates on transporting herself to the dimension that matches the signature of Portennant, letting her qliphothic powers pull her there.

Like a step in the dark, through a short, shadowy hallway and then...

A city in lights. This Colonial Bay does not appear so terribly different than that which Gabrielle is familiar with. It is clean, orderly, lit... perhaps even cleaner, as the broken sprawl to the west known as Harrisburg isn't distinguishable from the air. It's as if the residential student quarter simply stretched further.

The only visual cue of immediate difference lies in numerous holo-boards bearing a recognizable face sponsoring various products as bearing 'Presidential Approval' or upon recruiting/political advertisements.

Grimm has been expecting dystopia perhaps. She floats weightlessly, wondering if she got the wrong dimension until she spots one of those holo-boards from a distance. She sneers at the face, though there's a shiver that works its way up her spine that THAT'S the face of this world's supreme leader. Now the question is where would said leader be licking his wounds. Is he still in her home dimension? Did he come back somewhere here? She'd have to get closer to find out.

She looks below for an empty, unseen spot where she can teleport to and cast an illusion to disguise herself.

The district below is reasonably active, as it is a Saturday evening. On the other hand, the residential area predominantly for students is less so. Those still at home and not involved in raucous, stress-relieving parties are likely studying quietly or already asleep. The neat side streets and alleys between them are empty.

Grimm picks an empty looking alley and vanishes from sight, reappearing there with a few quiet whispers that can barely be made out. She looks about to see if she's in the clear, then uses her magic to disguise her appearance. Something quite unlike her. Someone...blonde.

Her arrival, and change, appear to be unnoticed as none are around. There are sounds of music reasonably nearby (or at excessive volume) along with the occassional hoot or holler.

A now blonde, more prepping looking Grimm walks towards the sound. She's dressed in color, no less. Light stonewash jeans and a cream colored long sleeved top, and a light gray scarf. She looks practically upstanding. No unusual piercings; just the standard. She looks so...so...vanilla as she heads towards the hollering. Or at least, this is her interpretation of a vanilla woman.

The hooting and hollering is, not surprisingly, co-located with the loud nearby music. It's a party. Duh. Even if sound weren't an easy cue, the brightly lit apartment and packed balcony patio of people moving, smoking, and drinking is pretty obvious.

Okay, so maybe in this imagined dystopia Grimm had envisioned, there'd be no parties, either. She slips her hands in her pockets, looking around for someplace she can get some news or information. Maybe the library? Television? Something with access to this dimension's internet? She pulls out her phone and tries to check for a free wifi signal.

That must be it! No wifi! Nope. It's there. The not-so-grim Gabrielle also finds something else in the air. Namely a catcall and whistle from a few young men on the balcony. They aren't total jerks, though, and wave her over in invitation. Free wifi, free party?

Grimm shades her eyes towards the catcaller. She didn't quite catch exactly what he said. She offers a vapid laugh as she stereotypes her disguise, offering a little wave. And then goes back to messing with her phone. At least she's walking their way. Maybe she'll learn something while being obsessed with her phone, like any college student.

Oggle's home of top articles are nothing extraordinary: latest tech gadgets, some commentary MyTube videos, several positive news articles on the intial success of the Martian Colonization Initiative mission, reports that work-labor mining on the moon is continuing to prove both profitable and a valuable criminal reform therapy for the third straight year.

Grimm is growing increasingly worried every time she finds good news. Where's the torture? The enslavement? Where's the evil in this empire? Of course, the news sources must be slanted. Maybe conspiracy blog sites? Gods, has she fallen so low as to resort to that? She inwardly groans as she approaches the party.

Some of those whose URLs she might know off-hand don't appear to exist. Others do, and contain some of the usual theories: lurking mastermind villain conspiracies, suspicious local or regional politicians, mutant alligators allying in the sewers... Some may have merit, others seem entirely in the disreputable category. There are no high level governmental conspiracies, though, which is often a staple.

Their absence is that's notable. Like those things got shut down and wiped. It's some evidence that things aren't as normal as they seem. Though Grimm isn't sure what to trust if most of these sources are just propaganda machines. She tries to look for any recent news of their Glorious Leader's activities or location. If he rules the world, or whatever, there's got to be a seat of power for that. She arrives at the party, glancing up briefly from her phone.

"Hey! C'mon up and have some fun!" Calls one young man, possibly an athlete judging by his physique. "We've got lots of -oh shit!" It's about that time that a pair of new lights join the show: namely flashes of red and blue as a CBPD cruiser pulls into the parking area. The young man ducks inside and the music rather quickly drops by several decibels.

And there we go. Grimm tries to get going and away from the party building to find a place to wait out the cops' departure.

The officer that gets out looks, well, a little bored? He isn't in tactical gear with weapons drawn. It's probably a noise complaint. He calls on up to the now-quieter group, many of whom seem to have mysteriously lost their cans or bottles. "Ok, ladies and gentlemen. You all know better to keep it down. Some folks are actually trying to study. You also should know the drill..." he waves them down with a hand, to a collective grumble from the young adults. "Come on down and line up with your IDs ready..."

"That means you, too, young lady..." the officer adds in Gabrielle's direction. Or is it now Gabby? Gabby totally sounds more blonde.

Babs. Totally. Short for Barbara. And Babs is having none of that because she doesn't have ID. "What? But, like, I was just, like, going home from a steady sesh," Grimm plays up the dumb blonde as best she can.

"Then the quicker you get scanned, the quicker you can be on your way," the officer offers amicably. "It's just procedure. Nobody's in trouble here." He doesn't look upset or tense; perhaps a little mildly annoyed. Just a public servant trying to do his job.

People from the upstairs apartment are filing down, some woozily or with a little help, but they're moving. Cards are in hand, pulled from wallets or purses. Some of the more prepared are pulling them out from inside shirts or blouses where they were worn on lanyards.

"But I was just going from that building, to this one," 'Babs' explains, pointing to two very near buildings that the party building is in between. "I didn't bring my ID for such a short trip."

The officer starts scanning the IDs of those in line with a device hanging from his duty vest next to the radio. When Babs voices her explanation, he pauses and sighs. After a moment, he motions her to him. "Look. I get it. It's finals. You kids are all stressed out. Tell you what. Your facial rec comes up clean, you won't get docked on the ID, alright? This time."

"Okay, thanks!" Babs gets into the rear of the line to wait her turn, hoping she can hide out of sight enough to change and try another tactic. Namely...dropping her guise and getting ready to put a mental whammy on this guy.

The officer mutters something about college kids, shakes his head, and goes back to scanning folks. ID, then face. Wait for the little chirp and green light. Repeat. It's a fairly quick and apparently painless process. Well, except for the one girl whose imbibing has left her giggling so much he has to scan her twice to get a match. It won't take long at all to reach the end of the line.

While the cop and others aren't looking, Grimm's magic fades and makes her look like herself. Just another of the party goers. She pulls out an old boba tea stamp card from her wallet. Three more stamps and she gets a free drink! She grins a little and waits her turn.

The officer gets to her and quirks a brow. "I hope you aren't as much trouble as you look, missy..." He scans the card, then her face despite there being no audible beep, then looks at the device. Nothing happens, though he nods. "Good." He puts the device back into his holster and steps back to address everyone. "Alright. Everyone's clear. Just keep it down, Ok? Another call and we're going to have to shut it down. And make sure you walk with a buddy, or get a ride. Tests may not be any fun, but better everyone's healthy to take them..."

"And make sure you have your IDs at all times," he adds.

Grimm smiles at the officer as she hands over the card and twists his mind a little. She slips her card away once she's approved and follows the others inside. . o O (A little strick for a noise complaint. Why scan everyone?) She tries to listen in on the students as they head inside to hear what they may complain about over this.

There's a bit of muttering, though most of it is about bad timing or someone claiming to have told someone else to turn it down before. Most don't really complain, just happy to get back to the party. The officer heads back to his patrol car.

"What a killjoy, huh? What's the big deal?" Grimm adds to the muttering.

"Just the usual shick. Keep the weirdos or illegals or criminals where they're supposed to be." One guy offers up. "I hear they track everybody..." comes from another, smaller, very much non-athlete kid in glasses. In a whisper.

The officer gets back in and gets settled, though before he can drive away, there's a sudden flash of light outside his door. When the sparking of it fades, a man costumed in a tri-color blue-black-white body is standing there. A young man, likely no older than the other students or Babs. "Hey, Officer Blake. Busy night?"

Grimm winces at the flash of light, blinks away the sunspots as she sees a costumed meta appearing by the police. State sanctioned meta, maybe?

Those Grimm is walking with don't seem to pay it much mind, though a couple girls point and giggle as they whisper to each other while looking at the meta. They head right back for the balcony.

Officer Blake blinks in a startle, though recovers quickly enough. "Hey, Lightning. On patrol, too?"

The young meta chuckles. "Something like that..." He leans in and lowers his voice as he speaks further to Blake.

Grimm tries to listen in on their conversation, not recognizing this Lightning hero. The shadows see and hear all...

"You haven't been scanning at the med school, have you?" Lightning teases the officer. "Whidby just got a hit on a stiff. " He reaches out a finger to lightly zap the car's computer, pulling up a holo of one Gabrielle Grimm, along with a brief bio synopsis. Most of it is accurate, though the flashing red DISSIDENT and DECEASED flags might be a surprise. "You scan her? Where's she at?"

Blake blinks. "What? Yeah... but she came back clean. She was at the party up there."

Grimm grits her teeth as she sees those flashing flags. Dissident, she gets. But DECEASED!? How'd she get offed? Looks like she's finding out more and more about what's wrong with this world. Not wanting to do the ID card thing again, she quickly obfuscates the minds of those around her as she listens and watches the cop and Lightning.

Further skimming of the displayed file, as Lightning skims it rapidly, himself, reveals several arrests and convictions for disorderly conduct and one for sedition. The final conviction was 2/7/2068, and sentence of execution was carried out exactly one week later. Efficient system.

Grimm cringes at the report. o O (Poor me. Well, her. But at least she didn't sell out like that guy.) She eyes Lightning with disgust.

Grimm has a momentary mental gasp. o O (Wait, what about Malcolm!?)

Well, they aren't looking at Malcolm's file, if he has one.

True. Although if he was with this dimension's Grimm, how's he holding up? It's been almost two years since her local self died. Great, Grimm. Getting sidetracked. But maybe she can try to track down local former friends and hope they were dissidents, too! And what about--! No. Starguard's military. For sure if they existed, they'd be under Portennant's control.

While all these worried racing thoughts go through Grimm's head, she starts walking awake while still spying. Maybe she can check Malcolm's place and see if it's where this world's one is. With a side-stop near where Starguard HQ is.

Stepping out seems to work, as no sooner has she cleared the doorway does Lightning zip past her to scope out the party. He may well discover her not there before she gets very far, but she's very sneaky. Heading to the last known address of one VSA Gibbs equivalent reveals...

It's occupied. By a family of three. None of which appear to be Malcolm.

SGG HQ is still the monolithic monument that it is, and in the expected location. There are no blatantly obvious differences on the exterior.

Grimm takes a breath as she stands across the street and a few buildings down from it. Her eyes shade to the landing field beyond and the general direction of the motorpool. If Malcolm was with Starguard, that might be where he is. But if he's with Starguard, he's not with her or dissidents. Shick. He's the only person she'd go to when needing help. Him and...wait! Daemon? Maybe. She could definitely see him being a dissident. And he's too smart to get executed like her. . o O (Did I really think that? ...he must never know.)

There is some activity, perhaps more than the average day in her CB, but no massive mobilizations. After some time to observe there may be some small differences in the complex: a new three story structure that looks semi-residential; several VTOL craft sit ready on the airfield; a number of uniformed armed and armored personnel patrol the grounds.

It takes some time, but a familiar face (or perhaps backside, depending on the angle of her view) is spotted. Not surprisingly, it's in the motorpool. He is, that is, working on an armored personnel carrier.

Grimm would recognize that backside anywhere! Uh, not that she was trying to feel for that specifically. Yeah...

While Grimm fools herself into thinking that, she starts short teleporting her way to the motorpool while still cloaked.

The SG personnel continue on their duties as she stutter-stealth-ports her way there.

Grimm keeps an eye out for security just in case, making her way until she reaches that familiar faceside. Backface. Malcolm.

The backside sways absently as he works on whatever it is he's working on inside the access panel/engine compartment. He may even be whistling, humming, or singing absently along to something, in whatever manner he might tend to do when he's working.

Grimm keeps her shadow sight senses spread out to check for people encroaching. With the coast clear, she takes a long shot and uncloaks herself. She goes for the long shot and purrs, "Hello, Handsome." She's prepared for him to attack, but hopes he's secretly a dissident. Though if this world's Porter could be a world conqueror, its Malcolm could be an order-taking pawn.

SA Gibbs startles at the sudden purr and bonks his head on the opened hood. Rubbing the spot, he turns, "Don't ever sneak up on..."

When he sees her, he stops turning and the words just stop forming. His eyes blink several times, even as they widen.

The tool in hand clatters on the concerete floor as it is suddenly not in hand anymore.

"Gabrielle...?"

He seems rather uncertain, though maybe that is to be expected.

That still may be a hopeful response. Grimm hopes. Him not using her nickname? Also a good sign. She gives a little after he says her name. "Sorry for sneaking up on you. I had my reasons..."

"... I thought you were...you know..."

He certainly appears more than slightly dumbfounded. He takes a half step forward, tentatively reaching a hand out partway, though pauses.

"Is it really you? This is some sort of trick, isn't it..." He looks to either side as if expecting a holo-projector, Bob from accounting, or some game show host to be hiding around a corner waiting to pop out.

"I'm sorry," Grimm says gently, as kind as she can. "I'm Gabrielle. Just...not your Gabrielle. I just found out what happened to her, sort of. I'm so sorry. And I need your help."

He opens his mouth, likely with a question. Pauses. Tries again. Reboots. Attempts to process. "Not my..." Ok, it doesn't take as long as it might, or he just hedges his bets, finally getting out a coherent. "What do you need?" He still looks rather confused.

"Er, well, kind of presumptuous for me to assume you and her were...y'know." Gabrielle blushes a bit. "I need to know about what's going on. What with your glorious leader and all. But first...are you okay?" She's known a lot of Malcolms in a lot of dimensions, and she can't help but care about all of them.

"I don't know," he admits. "This is a lot to take in. I know about the dimension-hopping, but mostly second-hand. We were close, but you... she only took me ...elsewhere once. Before... y'know."

He shakes his head to try not to get it twisted into knots. Knowing about the Multiverse academically and dealing with it first-hand are two completely different things. So he shifts gears, or tries, before the clutch burns out. "What about what going on where?"

"Oh! Oh...yeah." Gabrielle feels guilty for not taking Malcolm with her more often. Although usually her jaunts are because he's too busy to be with her. "I'm surprised they caught her. How did that even happen...?" She steps a bit closer. "Your glorious leader. Is he back? Has there been news recently about what he's up to?"

"She was on their list early on," Malcolm sighs and rubs his face, "but she was careful. Sneaky. Powerful." He stops and smirks some, given their current situation in the context of his words and him realizing he's talking about Gabrielle to Gabrielle. "...but you would know that even better than I."

"So they had to go deep, take their time, get somebody close to her, get her trust. In the end..." He rolls his shoulders in a shrug.

As a quartet of conduit cables dart out at her...

Grimm gasps. o O (That sonuva bitch!!) "You....YOU!" she growls angrily as he tries to entangle her with those cables that her Malcolm uses so adoringly when his hands aren't free. She becomes a dark, transparent shadow of herself.

"Damn shadows..." Forge grumbles as the cables slide through the unsolid her, the metal at their base spreading out to cover him as his Colosuss' Flesh excretes from his pores. "Me what? She was a mission... not that we didn't have fun with it. I gave her -every- chance to come around... but, NO, she had to be stubborn, and get herself dead." He glares at her. "... and you had to walk in here and remind me..." So maybe he's only half SOB?

"Oh boo hoo, you succeeded at your mission to get her caught and killed," Grimm mimes slow-clapping, though it's soundless while she's immaterial. "Must be so hard being reminded of a job well done," she says with her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now, tell me all you know about what James Porter is up to right now, and maybe I won't turn you into a vegetable."

He does look hurt. Well, he did before, now it's more. Glaring at her, he snaps out. "Still a stubborn bitch. That's got to be a multiversal f$#!ing constant. Fine. What does he have going on? He's got you way the hell outnumbered and outclassed."

A cable snaps back to the toolbox on the floor and back, neatly tucking his helm on his head. At least the glare is covered?

"Level 1 incursion. Motorpool. Bay five. Ghosts and Headgames protocols."

"Yeah, you know what? I'm glad she's dead. It's better than ending up with an @$$hole like you." Gabrielle teleports back to a clear spot some 10 meters back and raises a hand out towards him. "Who'd want to be with some backstabbing bootlicker, anyway?" Black energy streaks towards him while she keeps her senses open for approaching agents.

VUSA Gibbs just barely manages to avoid the shadowy blasts.

"Is that all you got, dim bulb?" It isn't the most creative insult, but he is pre-occupied trying not to get his ass shot off.

Alarms sound in the complex.

"You better sleep with that helmet on for the rest of your days, because I am coming for you, you sonuva bitch," Grimm rages. He wants to call her the B word? She'll show him a B! She hurls an orb of Darkness at his feet that suddenly explodes with a dark wave of energy.

The wave explodes as his feat, passing over him though he remains on his feet. "Great. Then we don't have to hunt you down. Save us the trouble. Just know when we catch you, and we will, I'll make sure to use every last cuff, shackle, chain, collar, and gag I can find a place for!"

"Oooo, promise?" Grimm smirks, innuendo in her tone. "Have fun never being able to sleep again." She fades from sight, cackling as her echoing voice fades out.

Great. Now she's gone... or at least not apparently. That doesn't mean that he, and others, aren't still looking for her.

Grimm is fuming as she teleports further and further before the big hitters show up. The one person she thought she could trust, and he betrayed her. Twice! She really, reaaally wants to make him suffer for that, but it may have to wait. Hopefully he's left paranoid for days. Weeks if she's really lucky.

Once Grimm is in the clear, she shoots one last glare towards Starguard in the distance, then vanishes to return to her home dimension.