Log:Test Your Metal, Scene 11

Test Your Metal 2017/01/23

11

Daemon enhanced sense of balance and acute dexterity finds the whole process of returning inside near intolerable. He's done quite well to try to ignore the trillions strikes of emermald lightning on his way in.

Unfortunately most of those images are burned into his mind and not so easily forgotten or ignored.

Daemon tries to cling on with all of his might- as if that would help him in a place where his delicately balanced & well-honed understanding of the rules of the universe mean nothing.

Daemon is oddly silent as the agreements between him and the world at large are undermined.

Even after landing on his feet- Daemon remains couched in a single point, all four appendages clung here to the endless wastes as if they too might be ripped away from him.

He turns as his attention is called by the sound of Grimm's faceplant. The first sound he makes in this new world is him sucking his teeth.

The sound of the shriek rips any smart assed comment he might have had from his lips and his helmeted head stops moving entirely as he tries to feel where that sound came from.

Daemon determines the precise vector on which that shriek emanated. It is blessedly a sound coming from such a distance that he's reasonably certain that it will not be an issue. He may take some solace in that lone fact.

Both Daemon and Grimm will notice, after the initial shock of falling into the Colavrassa wears off, that there is a weird sensation. It is not a sensation that Daemon has ever felt before, though Grimm has been through the Colavrassa enough to recognize the sensation for what it is. Something tingles along their spines and at the bases of their skulls, radiating inward and outward at the same time as they become aware of things in their general vicinity.

A degree of certainty forms in the pit of each of their stomachs as the sensations resolve. There are doors here. Dozens of them. Hundreds of them, perhaps. Grimm can sense them with greater clarity and greater range, not that Grimm or Daemon are likely to be able to compare notes on this wholly unnatural sense.

Where these doors lead, no one can say.

Their mere existence, despite the overwhelming lack of visible or tactile evidence, and their general proximity to our intrepid heroes is all that Daemon and Grimm can truly decipher.

Grimm may have an awful lot of difficulty deciding whether this part of their trip is merely a memory or an actual and very unfortunate event in the team's investigation.

Grimm slowly climbs to her feet, rubbing at the back of her head to try and soothe the sensation her brain remembers. And yet it still has problems reconciling what it is it senses. She exhales a puff of dust and coughs. "I, uh...don't know if we're still in Mysterion's mind anymore," she mutters, looking around for a sign of the mad Professor in the Colavrassa. "Best to be careful out here..."

"Where the hell are we?" Daemon asks as he stands up. He keeps clinging to the ground just incase everything decides to go inside out again. Its a lackluster security blanket but its covert and pretty much all he has.

"And what's with all the doors?" He asks after a full 360 spin to make sure he's seeing what he's senseing.

Then something just a bit less than miraculous in Daemon's heirarchy of needs happens.

Some of his non-biotech powered and networked systems are beginning to flicker. Its not a real connection but it's something. "I think the clocks running now Grimm. Guards rotation will nab us if we're not careful."

"The Colavrassa. It's...complicated," Gabrielle groans at the desolate wastes. "It used to be something beautiful and lush. Not anymore." She glances about just to make sure they're alone. "Careful where you walk. There are dimensional doors everywhere. Like little portals that send you to random other places. I ran into a few last time I was here. Even as a memory, I'm not sure what would happen." She gazes up at the suns and shields her eyes from the light and heat. "Feels so real..."

As Daemon notifies them about the guards, she furrows her brow. "Guards, what..ohh, right." She remembers where their bodies should be. Her jaw clenches and she looks to Daemon. "I don't know what we succeeded in learning enough, but I guess our time's up," she sighs, then curses under her breath.

"I'm not particularly sure I want to move at all unless its towards the exit so I'm not particularly too broken up about that news." Daemon says with a snide tone.

"I say we go in my way- sneaky like afterhours. Blackout the whole cellblock & then we carve the answers off of Mysterion if we're running out of time." Daemon says. If his tone is any indicator the madness of these locales has clearly worn him thin.

Grimm twitches at Daemon's suggestion, but she's desperate to free Malcolm from the curse of Fate. And she has no love for Professor Mysterion after what he did to get his power.

With a sigh, she nods. "Alright, we better get back now. If I can get us back there in time." She walks over to Daemon and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Hang on, I'll try to get us back, but I'll need to concentrate." She closes her eyes, mind focusing on their bodies back in the cell as she begins to channel energy from the Shimmering Dark to allow them to return to the cell and their bodies.

Daemon sits patiently, but first says "Oh sure- take your time." He is of course happy to snark- luckily for both he and Grimm, his Sound Dampeners just came online and they were activated to afford Grimm some quiet to concentrate.

Taking some extra time to focus on the source of her powers and to isolate her memories of her own body works to Grimm's advantage. In this particular instance, time seems to be a wholly subjective construct of course, but if it works...

Space and time warps around Daemon and Grimm as the Damsel of Darkness allows that which saturates her form to spread outward and engulf them both. There is a peculiar lurch, that sensation of passages fading away as Grimm and Daemon enter The Naether for a split second. For a few seconds, both Grimm and Daemon are aware of floating in the air between Mysterion and their own bodies, as unbound by physical laws as the very shadows which are Grimm's to command.

Mysterion groans as the strain of hosting so many consciousnesses abates.

Reality lurches awkwardly a moment later, leaving Grimm and Daemon to reacclimate to their physical bodies. There is no gradual return to their bodies, there is simply a horrible shift and they can feel the full weight and clumsiness of their meatsuits. It should fade...

Eventually.

Grimm blinks a few times as she gets reacquainted to her physical form. The illusion over her body is still in tact. She looks over to Daemon questioningly to see if he's ready to lead the charge out of there, not wanting to say anything in case she gives them away.

For the first time all day, Mysterion looks fatigued. The vim and vigor - if not the piss and vinegar - that he exhibited earlier has faded since Grimm invaded his brain. All of the vitality that his locked mystical power has lent to his form is exhausted, for the time being, and it leaves him looking more frail and worn out than our heroes have yet seen him.

Of course, that just means that Dr. Crawfeld simply looks like the aged, decrepit, little old man that nature has long since decreed he should be. There's simply no getting around what nature wants sometimes. Immortality is not granted equally, it would seem.

Daemon pats himself to make sure he's not dreaming this. He seems satisfied that he's back- dressed nicely witht he credentials of a cutting edge psychoanalyst.

When he sees Doctor Crawfeld his face shows his surprise. His eyes dart over the tired & worn features of the man. He feels a sense of justice at seeing how far pride brought this man.

Daemon stands up a bit straighter, straightening his suit jacket. He looks to Grimm and says nothing ot the former supervillian. He doesn't want to give anything away.

"I think we won't be able to help the patient any further today," Grimm says professionally. "Perhaps we'll come back when he's feeling better," she hints as she starts to quietly rise up, not wanting to wake up the nasty Professor.

Daemon nods. "I agree. As always your analysis is first class." He says quietly, "Let's check out of this Roach Motel."

Crawfeld sags back in his seat, his eyes narrowing slightly as he regards the disguised heroes. He doesn't seem asleep, but he certainly doesn't seem to be at his full and terrible potency. A cruel, thin smile spreads across his lips, showing dangerous looking teeth at Grimm's suggestion.

"I will be seeing you again," croaks the old man, his voice drier and raspier than it was before. His hands vainly try to grasp at the edge of the table, but he doesn't seem to have the strength to reach that far from his sagging frame. Crawfeld instead drops his handcuffed limbs to his lap and rolls his head awkwardly toward the intercom.

"Guuuuaaaaarrrrrrrrrd," he groans, "We're done."

"In your dreams," Gabrielle replies with a dark, smug grin in response. She rises from the table, hand resting on the back of her chair and pulling it out so she can step away from the table. She's careful to keep her distance from Crawfeld.