Log:Test Your Metal, Scene 3

Test Your Metal 2015/10/12 Grimm Malcolm

3

Welcome to WRENCH WORLD!

No, actually, welcome to Malcolm's garage. Somewhere over the past week or two, Malcolm has collected and assembled the fixings for a basic motorcycle's rolling chassis. He is presently seated on a mechanic's chair next to the only working lift in the garage, dressed in little more than a pair of athletic shorts, sneakers, and a grease-stained muscle shirt. Malcolm is, in fact, streaked with grease himself as he wrenches, ratchets, and allen keys around with the motor. There is a chance that Malcolm has forgotten about things like sleep and food as he attempts to perfect his present to Grimm.

Grimm texts Malcolm after she gets out of her shift for her internship. She feels a little twisted up from the way her senses tend to curve around on itself in that strange building, and she's all too happy to scamper away. Her face becomes illuminated by her phone's screen as she starts to type away with her thumbs. <>

It takes Malcolm a few minutes to respond to Grimm. He had to wash his hands before he could go fumbling around with his PDA.

<< Miss you too, gorgeous, <3. C'mon over, I'm just working on your bike. >>

Grimm's face lights up literally and figuratively as she reads the response from Malcolm. First, because he misses her and is free. Second, because he's working on her bike! <>

When she says she's on her way, she may as well mean "I'm here now". Heralded by dark whispers near the garage entrance, Gabrielle flickers into sight. "Am I allowed to look yet??" she asks as she peeks around nosily, curious to catch a glimpse. It defeats the purpose of asking if she's just going to look anyway.

Malcolm doesn't bother responding when Grimm texts him back. He can already hear the infinite darkness whispering/gibbering at him from the other end of the garage. Instead, Malcolm tosses his PDA down on the box of shop rags where it will be safe and turns to face Grimm. There is a /VERY/ good chance that Malcolm hasn't yet realized he's floating in a netherworld between dressed and undressed as he grins at Grimm.

"How am I going to make it your bike if you can't see it and tell me what I'm doing wrong?"

Pause.

"Man. It's breezy as schick in here tonight. I hope Eighth didn't destroy a window."

"If I catch the guy who tried to kidnap you, he's going to seriously reconsider his life choices," Gabrielle threatens gallantly on Malcolm's behalf. And then suddenly, she's not thinking of reverse chivalry or revenge or even her bike, because she is suddenly very aware of the in-between realm in which Malcolm's clothing resides.

Her cheeks flush slightly as she thinks of the rough time she's had lately, and the embarrassing comments Harlequin made when she was being a bit grumpy about getting mauled by a spirit tiger. "Helloooo, Handsome. How -you- doing?" she flirts teasingly. "Am I going to get treated to a Mal-gram?"

No, she certainly did not forget about that tidbit that Rose informed her about. "I'm sure whatever you make for me will be perfect."

"He's a cyborg zombie power vampire," intones Malcolm, "I'm pretty sure he hasn't had any "life choices" in a very long time, Gabrielle."

Malcolm squints at Grimm as her cheeks flush. He opens his mouth to say something, but is cut off by Grimm's flirtatious tone of voice. Closing his mouth again, Malcolm looks at her in obvious puzzlement. Apparently the gears in his head are not meshing at all tonight. Instead, Malcolm quietly and politely replies, "No. No Mal-grams tonight. I am in full build mode, beautiful, I gotta make this bike right for you."

Well, at least Grimm won't be bored with playing mechanic's assistant tonight?

"Oh," Gabrielle says in a deflated manner as the wind is taken from her sails concerning Eighth. "Well, I won't feel bad if I completely trash him, then. The only good cyborg zombie power vampire is a dead one?" she questions more than states.

As Malcolm turns down offer of a Mal-gram, she could think of worse things. So maybe Mal's obsessed with building today. She still gets to enjoy the view. "Alright, how can I help, handsome?" she grins eagerly. "I don't really know much about building bikes, though."

"Getting the undead back to being just plain dead is always a problem, I've found," comments Malcolm. This may be one of several critical differences between Malcolm and Ghostfist - the problematicness of getting undead to be dead, that is - aside from the obvious. He waves Grimm over as he turns back toward the rolling chassis on the lift, presenting Grimm with a prime view of his face.

No wait. That can't be right.

Did Grimm just shadow step to the other side of the motorcycle frame and engine?

No, this is not right at all. Malcolm is facing her and facing away from her at the same time. Why is spacetime getting all distorted /HERE/ of all places?!

Grimm is sort of looking at Malcolm from several angles all at once. It may be somewhat more nauseating than trying to find Dr. Essiam's office.

Gabrielle doesn't remember trying to shadow step anywhere. But it wouldn't be the first time her powers decided to do things of their own accord.

Maybe it was just her wishing to see more of Malcolm that made her literally see more of him. A terrible twist of her desire made into a strange manifestation? Only she doesn't seem to be in control.

The multi-angled view of Malcolm is dizzying and mind-bending, making it difficult for Gabrielle to figure out where -she- is in all of this. It's like being in a mirror funhouse with a great view that can't be enjoyed because it feels like her concept of placement is fracturing. It causes an awful sense of vertigo and nausea, causing her to step left. No, right? What direction(s) is she even staggering in?

"Mal...I...something weird...what's going on?" Every time she tries to form a sentence, she gets interrupted by trying to grasp what she's seeing, leaving her speech as disjointed as her perception.

Malcolm turns toward/away from Grimm - ooh, Malcolm butt! - again at the sound of her voice.

Which is precisely when reality seems to unfracture. Grimm feels something in the rafters an instant before it drops down on Malcolm. There is some kind of horrible amalgamation of human, shark, giant lizard, and wolf-features driving Malcolm down into the ground. It offers a howl of murderous, predatory victory that may remind Grimm vaguely of Ghostfist. It's exactly the sort of exultation that Frankie should probably utter as she drops mystical threats.

"Ohshi-" escapes Malcolm. He says a word that sounds vaguely like 'sharkturban', but that cannot possibly be correct as his head ricochets off of the floor with a sharp, gut-churning *CRACK*. Malcolm goes still and quiet almost immediately after his head and shoulders hit the ground again. Knowing Malcolm, he's not dead, but he could well be unconscious without his Colossus' Flesh up to protect against this...

This... Sharkturban?

Gabrielle gets some comfort by the delightfully distracting sight of Malcolm's muscular rear. It serves as an anchor in her distorted vision. And it looks good at all angles.

The eye candy collage is cut short when where vision becomes unified again rather abruptly. "That was really--"

And then something weird strikes.

Gabrielle's statement is interrupted by a gasp. "Mal!" she cries out in panic at the crack and his sudden stillness. Darkness springs from her, welling up from the shadow at her feet and surrounding her protectively before four inky tentacles flow out from the field surrounding her. She grits her teeth as she stares daggers at the Sharkturban. "Get AWAY from him!" she orders the creature as her tentacles stretch and lengthing, preparing to snake towards the strange monster.

The hulking creature - it's easily 7' tall and 5' across the shoulders - turns toward Grimm at the sound of her order. Its lips peel back in a predatory snarl, revealing no less than three rows of glittering white shark teeth. Behind it, the creature's long tail starts to sway as it rises in apparent territorial display.

Hunching forward further, the thing comes down onto all fours as it eyes Gabrielle with black, soulless eyes. Predatory menace rolls off of this creature in almost palpable waves. It is, if anything, dread incarnate in a way that Grimm has not previously encountered - or, at least, has no memory of having encountered it. Offering a horrible, chittering, warbling growl/snarl, a bony dorsal fin(?!) rises up from its back.

She has no idea what this thing is, nor can she sense its native dimension. The fabric of spacetime is too screwed up locally for her to get a good fix on its source. She does, however, remember accidentally falling into a dimension when she first got her powers where there were strange, vaguely humanoid creatures like this roaming an incalculably vast desert.

Gabrielle will not stand for something being more dreadful than her after hurting her sweetheart. She sets her jaw and stands as tall as her small height will allow in an attempt to be heroically impressive. It would fail if not for her being outraged and worried for Malcolm.

Suddenly, she starts to remember a distant memory. Being lost and tumbling through the veil between dimensions, carried along spacial currents as she tried to find some semblance of home before she started to understand how to wield her powers better. This...thing. She's seen it before. Not so closely. She kept away, still afraid and feeling helpless at the time. How did it get here?

And why, of all the luck, had it come here and attacked Malcolm? Oh. Right. Malcolm's luck.

Gabrielle fixes her eyes on the thing. "You are one ugly mother--"

As she distracts the thing by cursing at it, a small dark portal opens up behind the Sharkturban at it's 5 o'clock, positioned between the creature and the open garage door. Suddenly, a shadow tentacle pours out of the black portal tear in the world, and snaps at the sharkturban.

The Sharkturban continues to make that horrible, predatory noise at Grimm right up until the tentacle lashes out at the creature's midsection. A startled yowl escapes the thing as it sails across the garage to ricochet off of a wall before sailing clear over Malcolm and Grimm both to go tumbling out of the open garage door.

A few seconds later, it starts galumpfing back indoors again. Its claws are leaving deep trenches in the asphalt and concrete as it makes its way back toward Grimm. There are no obvious signs of injury to the monstrosity, although Grimm imagines it could well be running faster in its odd, four-legged stance. Maybe she hobbled it? Whatever else, this leaves it open to attack from Grimm.

Gabrielle's eyes widen a bit at the ferocious beast barreling towards her. What big claws it has. But she's the only thing standing between it and Malcolm, and she won't fail Mal. Not when he's saved her so many times.

Her hands are at her sides in a gunslinger stance. They begin to well with dark energy. It pulses. Stretches. Squashes. Like a shadow being affected by the sun as time passes at accelerated time. It wanes, and then as it waxes one more time in build up, she brings her hands together and forward, palms out towards the Sharkturban as she channels the excess energy in a torrent of darkness towards it.

The Sharkturban is galumpfing along at a patently inhuman rate, cutting the distance to Grimm by leaps and bounds. Every second she wastes charging up seems like a second of her life completely wasted. At the very last instant, as the thing opens its colossal, three-lobed mouth in preparation of devouring her face, Gabrielle Grimm unloads her dark fury upon it.

Darkness engulfs the thing and a strangled, pitiful canine yelp escapes the Sharkturban as it is blasted out of the air, through a garage door, and embedded roughly in a street lamp across the street from Malcolm's garage. It sags in the twisted metal of the lamp post, thick streamers of shadowy black smoke curling up and away from its massive frame. At this distance, it's difficult to say for sure if the thing is unconscious, dead, or simply stunned... Even with Grimm's Shadow Sight, but that may just be because of the still healing warp to spacetime.

Grimm starts to step backwards slowly towards Malcolm as she eyes the Sharkturban. That was almost too close. But at least it's down. The smart thing would be to double tap it, but Malcolm is hurt, and he comes first. She flickers and reappears kneeling at his side, positioned so she can still keep an eye on the beast.

"Mal...? Handsome...?" she asks gently, taking her eyes on the monstrosity to gaze down at Malcolm. She's almost afraid to lay hands on him and risk causing more injury, but then she gently places a hand on his chest to at least be sure he's still breathing. Gabrielle's never had any paramedics training.

Malcolm is, indeed, breathing. He may be floating somewhere between genuine traumatic impact unconsciousness and simply being asleep, based on the rhythmic rise and fall of his muscular chest under Grimm's hand. The tall man, however, is sprawled in one of those positions that people need to be dead to the world to maintain, a little drool escaping the corner of his mouth.

On the plus side, he's not bleeding. At least there's that small mercy?

Grimm can hear groaning in stereo as both Malcolm groans under her touch and the monster across the street starts to stir. She's going to have to make a decision on how to proceed in the next couple of seconds, before the damn thing comes back to eat her face for real.

Grimm hadn't even realized she was holding her breath until she suddenly lets it all out in a sigh of relief. She gently strokes his head from front to back, then tries to move him gingerly so he can at least rest a bit more comfortably. The tall man proves to be pretty heavy for her weakling body, so her shadow limbs assist in making Malcolm comfortable.

As she hears the stereo groan from across the street, her eyes lift to peer at the monster beneath her dark eyebrows with a furious gaze.

The thing across the street yowls in misery, lurching out of the tangle of bent metal and electrical wiring it was trapped in for a moment as Grimm bombards its brain with nightmare images and pain. Clutching its head in its hand-like forepaws, the monster staggers a few steps forward before it collapses in a heap at the side of the road.

A few minutes later, after Grimm has repositioned Malcolm's woefully underclothed and unfashionable body into a more comfortable resting position, Malcolm awakens.

More accurately, Malcolm awakens with a sharp gasp and sits bolt upright on the floor of the shop. His grey eyes are wide with something not unlike terror and a cold sweat breaks out across his body as it catches up to the nightmare realizations churning in his brain. Only when Malcolm's eyes find Grimm in proximity does he heave out the breath he's been holding for the seconds of mindless fear since he awakened.

"... Are you...? Are you okay, Gabrielle? They didn't hurt you, did they?"

"I'm alright, Handsome. It's okay. You're safe," Gabrielle says soothingly, wrapping her arms around him in a big hug. It's rare that she gets to do the rescuing. "I'm just glad you're awake and alright. I was so worried."

She gives him a gently squeeze. "There was only one...-thing-," she can't think of an appropriate term than that. Sharkturban still sounds so weird. "What the heck was that thing? I've seen them before...just never -here-."

"No. There can't just be one," whispers Malcolm, voice unusually small and quiet. He holds Grimm tight, muscles flexing protectively as he shifts his gaze around the garage. There's that word that sounds like 'Sharkturban' again, "They only hunt in packs. There have to be more..."

Holding Grimm tight, Malcolm's cables erupt out of his shoulders and back, wreathing him and Grimm in metal limbs. Malcolm stumbles to his feet, holding Grimm tight before two cables snap uptward and wrench Malcolm clean off of his feet. Perching carefully above the shop floor, Malcolm cradles Grimm as he warily eyes the shop floor below him. There is a distinctly automatic pilot feel to Malcolm's movements as he holds Grimm, watching in primal dread for an enemy that she's certain does not exist.

Grimm has never seen Malcolm this scared before. In fact, aside from being worried for her safety, she's never seen him really scared of anything. Although he's managed to hide his fear of her sometimes self-possessed hair rather well from her.

But she still thinks Malcolm's fears are valid. She tries again to feel out the area with her shadow sight in search of the 'Sharkturban's' pack. Meanwhile, she is held snug and protected in Malcolm's cables.

Reaching a hand out from the cables to cup his cheek, she whispers a gentle reminder, "You should probably armor up, Handsome."

It takes her a few moments to realize. He's seen them before. He fears them. "Wait...you know them? From...from the desert?" she tries to remember that strange dimension. Grimm extends her supernatural senses, combing the shop and her surroundings, the apartment above, and outside for other Sharkturbans. "I don't sense any others, Hands--shick! Oh shick!" she says in rising panic. "It's gone! The one I beat is gone! We have to track it down before it hurts someone!"

In her panic over other people being in danger, she starts to squirm within Malcolm's cabled embrace.

"Ar-armor up?"

Malcolm seems confused for a few seconds. He hesitates, eyes fixing Grimm's for several seconds. Blinking once or twice, Malcolm seems to snap back into focus on the here and now at a level beyond primal terror. Everything about him shifts into something more like what Grimm (and our readers) are accustomed to seeing/feeling in Malcolm.

"Desert? No, I... I was never in the Colavrassa," murmurs Malcolm. He starts to say something else, but is cut off by Grimm squirming and writhing around in his arms and cables. A surprised, but not terrified sound escapes Malcolm as he tries to reassert his grasp on Grimm. "Gabrielle, I can't... You're squirming too much... I... I..."

And, as luck would have it, this is the point at which Grimm completely escapes Malcolm's grasp. She may, in fact, functionally get fired out of his grasp like a greased-up deaf guy through a cluster of Quahogians. Hopefully she can compensate for falling before she hits the floor.

And down shoots Grimm, tumbling out of Malcolm's cables and falling with her body parallel to the ground. Malcolm can see her looking up at him in surprise, but it's only momentary. She twists around to try and look at the ground. At the last two meters, she starts to slow as she focuses on being as light as a shadow. Her hair and clothes billows slowly and flows as if underwater. For the last two feet, she's slowed enough to drift safely to the ground, righting herself to land feet first.

Malcolm drops from the ceiling a second or so later, eyes wide as he reaches out to wrap Grimm up in another hug. This hug is less automatic, less full of fear. It's a more human hug, one of the sort that speaks to apology and confusion and gratefulness at mere presence.

"I'm sorry, gorgeous. I... Guess some experiences, some reactions, are tougher to grow out of than others."

Offering a small, chagrinned smile, Malcolm slowly loosens the hug as he looks around the shop again. He flinches slightly at the "sharkturban" hole in another one of his bay doors, though he doesn't seem quite as concerned about the lack of "sharkturban". Rubbing the back of his head, Malcolm comments, "Hopefully it just fell back into its own dimension. Or it'll die of exposure to weird Earth germs or something."

Grimm wraps her arms around Malcolm as he apologizes. "I don't have to apologize. Handsome. You're strong. You're tough. And I'll protect you," she ends with a wink to try and cheer him up.

Her haze follows his to the hole in the doors, and she winces slightly. "Sorry about the door, Handsome. I'll...I'll try and get them replaced."

Her head nearly whips back to Malcolm at his comment, eyes wide. "Hopefully...? Mal, we have to make sure, or hunt it down. What if it goes after some civilians?" she asks, concerned with her own duty as an informal hero.

"Pretty sure we can't just go riding along calling, 'Here sarky, sarky, sarky! Who's a good pack hunter?' into the night, Gabrielle. That'll just incite a panic," replies Malcolm. He offers an expression that might be a playful, if regretful smile to Grimm as he rolls his shoulders.

"Or do you have elite monster tracking skills that you haven't told me about before?"

Malcolm straightens up slowly and pulls away from Grimm, meandering over toward his work bench. The tall man roots around amongst the junk on the table for something - who knows what? - whilst he quietly calls over his shoulder, "Sorry I ruined date night, beautiful. I'm going to have to owe you three or four for tonight."

"I...well. Not necessarily monster tracking. But I can try things," Gabrielle admits sheepishly. She clasps her hands together and wrings them slightly "Wherever it's shadow has passed, I may be able to pick up on and follow.

She finds it very odd that Malcolm isn't rushing out the door to go hunt down the sarky sarkturban. "You didn't ruin anything, handsome," she tries to ease his concerns. She casts a few nervous glances towards the hole in the bay doors, wondering what to do. Maybe he hit his head harder than she thought?

That gets Malcolm's attention. He turns slowly to peer at Grimm at her mention of being able to track things by shadow alone. Malcolm purses his lips for a few moments, studying Grimm carefully before he gestures for her to lead the way. As he starts moving toward her again, the familiar sight of his Colossus' Flesh bubbling up from his pores is visible. By the time Malcolm's stepped up behind Grimm, he's completely engulfed in his metal membrane, gleaming in the harsh overhead lighting of the shop.

"Are you with me, Handsome?" Gabrielle asks softly as starts to summon his Colossus' Flesh. "I know you don't want to face that thing again, probably. I...I could go on my own while you wait here if you want?" she offers as she takes a few side steps closer to the Sharkturban shaped hole in the door. She's torn between staying with Mal, and running off to the rescue to hunt down that monster and pay it back for what it did to him while trying to keep innocents safe.

"That thing doesn't belong here. Maybe I can send it back to the...what did you call it? The Colavrassa? What is that, anyway?" Her attention is divided between him and the outside view.

"I'm with you, Gabrielle," murmurs Malcolm, tone apologetic, "I'm always with you."

Malcolm leads the way out of the garage through the hole in the bay door. He steps to one side, letting Grimm take the lead now that they're entering her area of expertise. For the moment, Forge simply stands to one side and watches as Grimm does what only she can do. There's a good chance he's also fighting with his cables. It's a very Alfred Molina as Doc Ock sort of thing.

"It used to be The Place of Oases. A connection point between realms," intones Forge, tone quiet and almost reverent, "Now it's just... The Colavrassa. The Place of Divine Sins. It's still a connection point, but it's a cursed place, a ruined place. A place few dare to tread."

Because that explains everything, Forge. Maybe Grimm should find a new boyfriend, this one's horrible at exposition.

Grimm wouldn't give up this boyfriend for the world. "I know you are, Handsome," she smiles encouragingly. "Always." She pops up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his metallic lips. It tastes strange and its rigidly unforgiving, but she does it anyway. Even if he probably can't feel it.

With a kiss of encouragement given, she crawls through the hole, careful not to snag herself on the jagged edges as she grips the sides of the gape and steps outside. She dusts her hands off once on the other side and walks towards the spot where the creature was last, her eyes fixed on the ground, trying to pick up on the trail of its shadow and piece together where it went.

"Wow, I didn't know you knew so much about other dimensions, Handsome," she comments as she focuses and searches. She finds his revelation interesting. In fact, despite her distracted expression, she sounds awed by his explanation. It's the sort of vague and dire warning style that she often uses, because often words fail her when trying to describe the horrors she's glimpsed between the Shadows.

"I...think I was there. If that's where this thing was from. What cursed it?" Of course she was one of the few who dared to tread there. She didn't really have much of a choice.

"I don't know much about other dimensions. Just Metal Earth," replies Malcolm. He rolls his shoulders and tries to keep out of Grimm's way as she tries to pick up the shadow of the "Sharkturban". Or "sarky"? Malcolm flexes his metal hands a few times, eyes darting around thoughtfully as though expecting death drop upon him (again) now that they least expect it.

It takes a few seconds for Grimm to catch the thing's shadow - there's something weird about it, maybe because of the dimensional distortions? - near the ruined lamp post where Grimm lodged it so securely earlier. Grimm leads Forge down the street almost a block, following the blobs and shimmers that are the distorted remnants of the "sharkturban's" shadow. She hangs a left down an alley and Forge makes a weird, distorted sound behind Grimm.

Waaaaaaaaiiiiiiiit a second! Where did all of this snow and blinding light come from all of a sudden?

Grimm's head lifts up at the sound Forge makes a strange sound. She doesn't get the chance to turn around to see if he's okay, because suddenly her eyes are hit with bright, blinding light and whiteness that sears her darkness-accustomed eyes.

She shields her eyes against the brightness, squinting her eyes to a fraction-width slits. She feels the cooler air, feels the snow landing on her and becoming wet from her body heat as the snowflakes melt.

"What the heck happened...??" she asks as her eyes try to adjust. She spins about to see how Forge is doing.

Grimm turns around to see Forge in the alley way where she should be. He is very energetically slamming his metal-coated fists onto a rippling rainbow film that separates the alley from the vast, snowy plain upon which Grimm finds herself. There is little in the way of real snow falling right now, it's much, MUCH too cold for that. Instead, Grimm is experiencing the phenomenon visitors to the Antarctic interior call 'diamond dust', where fallen snow powder is whipped up into the air by gusts of wind and it falls into new arrangements on anything in its path.

"... brielle... om... ack..."

Forge's voice is almost inaudible through that rippling barrier that inexplicably keeps him separated from her. It's also probably important to note that Grimm can see the edges of the barrier shrinking. Her window back to Earth is very rapidly diminishing and there is a loud, very inhuman sound starting to build from somewhere near the horizon line on this side of the barrier.

More "sharkturbans"?

Something worse than "sharkturbans"?

Does Grimm really want to stick around to find out?

"Forge?!" Gabrielle calls out loudly to help her voice cut through the barrier. She starts to trudge back to the barrier as it begins to shrink away.

Forge sees Gabrielle halt for a second and look off towards the horizon. If he can't see her face, he can at least see through her body language that she's unsettled. She starts moving towards the barrier between them again, picking up speed to run towards it.

Unsure of how solid it is, she slows just before reaching it and holds her hands out. Maybe to grasp Forge's? Maybe to brace against a potential impact? If he can't break through with his mightly strength, she may not have much of a chance on this side either.

Grimm's hands feel a slight tension, mostly in the vicinity of Forge's fists pounding on the rippling rainbow they're both touching. Her hands, however, slip straight through the barrier and probably slide along the smooth, warm metal that covers Forge's forearms.

Forge blinks and looks down at Grimm's hands for a second or two. He promptly grabs her forearms and tries to pull her clean through the barrier between worlds. There is a good chance that Malcolm is afraid Grimm might get trapped on the wrong side of the barrier. Capable of moving between dimensions or not, Forge saw Grimm looking off to one side as though terrified by something.

Once her hands slide over Forge's metallic Collosus flesh, Gabrielle clasps his forearms like a lifeline between wherever she is and home as he grabs hers. There's some mild tension as he begins to pull, but then Grimm gets pulled right off her feet as he hauls her through the barrier with very little resistance compared to what he was up against. She may even tumble through and into him at the sudden yanking. She holds her breath instinctually as her head passes through the Rainbow Divide.

"There's something else back there," she warns with a gasp of breath as she cling to him to help keep herself upright. She's a little off balance from being yanked.

Malcolm wraps Grimm up in a protective hug as she comes spilling out of the gap in realities. He stares back at the diminishing gateway as he holds onto Grimm, just letting her right herself for the moment. Forge's steel eyes may be fixed on a growing shadow advancing upon the shrinking portal: A pack of ten or so "sharkturbans" is running across the snowpack toward the hole between universes.

Fortunately, the portal winks out of existence as the horrible, impossibly melodious howl of the "sharkturbans" penetrates the barrier to echo through the alley. Malcolm squeezes Grimm gently in his arms, gulping slightly as he waits for the other shoe to fall. Nothing, however, actually happens so far as he can tell.

Grimm turns to look over her shoulder, her eyes following Forge's steely gaze. He may be able to feel her grip around him tighten as she clings to him. One was scary enough. But ten? There's no way she could stand up against that many.

Gabrielle's holding her breath as they charge towards the portal and them, her body tensing in Forge's arms as she expects the worse. When the portal shrinks into nothingness, Gabrielle lets ut a sigh and sinks against Malcolm as he squeezes her. "That...was close," she murmurs. "One was tough, but manageable. Being stuck who knows where with ten, though?" She sounds skeptical at her chances of victory, let alone survival.

"Well. Uh."

Forge just sort of stands there, holding onto Grimm. He stares at the spot where the portal was for a long time, jaw hanging slightly agape as he considers how close they came to having to fight an actual horde. Letting out a long, exhausted sigh, Forge inquires of Gabrielle, "Can we go home, drink beer, and not feel mortal terror for a little while? I'd really like that."

Grimm cranes her neck and tilts her head back so she can look up at Forge while staying close and within his protective embrace. She gives a slow, relieved nod. "I'd really like that, too. Just what the doctor ordered." Hopefully it'll be safe back there. Even though that's where the first one attacked. Gabrielle is more than a little reluctant to let Forge go, but she eventually eases up on her tight hug so they can become mobile.

As if having a Gabrielle Grimm wrapped around him could stop Forge from travelling away from this lonely alley in West Colonial Heights.

Forge gently releases Grimm from his end of the hug, smiling gently at her as he offers a little sigh. His Colossus' Flesh drains into his regular flesh once more, his grey eyes fixing on her blue peepers as he offers a hand to her. Grinning a little bit, Malcolm inquires, "You know... With all of the shick that's gone on this past year, Gabrielle, it just occurred to me. When the heck is your birthday? I need to take you out for celebratory 21st birthday over-consumption."

Grimm's hand slips into Malcolm's and her fingers entwine with his with a soft squeeze. "It's...wow. Yeah, it's been really crazy. And wonderful, even with all the danger and adventure." She swings their clasped hands up as she walks with him and kisses his knuckles. "I become legal November 13th," she says as she flashes a grin. "So, over-consumption birthday? I'm looking forward to it!"

"... Nnnnot what it sounds like, folks," offers Malcolm to the open air surrounding him. He flashes a playful grin at Gabrielle afterward, winking as he leans in to place a kiss on her forehead while she's kissing his knuckles. Gently he pulls her after him, out of the alley and back onto a populated street. Malcolm immediately realizes why it was so drafty in his garage - athletic shorts, a greasy muscle shirt, and beat up sneakers are not really street wear - and lets out a long suffering sigh.

"Also not what it looks like."

An amused giggle escapes Gabrielle at Malcolm's defensive comments. "Worried about what people will think seeing a college girl with a more mature gentleman?" She teases. There's a bit of an age gap there, but it's never bothered Gabrielle. Her shoulders hunch up and drop down happily at the kiss, starting to relax already from their scare.

At Malcolm's suffering smile, Gabrielle flashes a sympathetic one of her own. "Poor Handsome, looking all sexy and rugged casual."

There is a dark flash in her eyes. It may be mischief. Or plotting. She grins that cheshire grin of hers as she lifts a free hand and twirls her finger in the air. Dark energy starts to trail behind her finger as it circles in the air. Suddenly, dark energy envelopes Malcolm from the neck down. If he were sensitive to the cold, he might feel a little cooler for a moment. Then the darkness forms into an outfit that looks like something Malcolm typically wears for his blue-collar chic. Jeans, long sleeve shirt, and a nice overshirt.

For someone who could dress Malcolm to look however she wants, she doesn't embellish or change his fashion.

There's something about Gabrielle that makes Malcolm completely blind to the age gap between them, but that doesn't mean he can't joke about it when she mentions things like 'becoming legal'. He's probably told her about the age gap ruining other relationships in the past.

Malcolm shivers slightly as he feels that rush of cold darkness washing over his body. He blinks a few times, peering down at his new clothes. A few cables emerge from somewhere underneath his shirts to curiously probe and prod at the clothing until he seems satisfied that these things are really there. Tipping his head to one side, Malcolm regards Grimm with an expression mixed between mirth and serious contemplation.

"You are just a riddle wrapped in an enigma and hidden under a conundrum, aren't you, Miss Grimm?"

Poor Malcolm. Gabrielle's tricks feel so real that it's like he's really wearing different clothes. They even feel a bit warm once they became fully formed.

And at least so far, the age gap hasn't seemed to present an issue. In fact, Gabrielle has enjoyed having a more mature, caring boyfriend. Especially one that hasn't tried to kill her. That's a bonus.

"No more than you, Mr. Gibbs," she flashes a charming smile. "Like those cables of yours. Can you feel with those? And how much?" Her eyes track them as they pat him down, smiling softly.

"Li'l bit more than me," teases Malcolm. He grins at Grimm, strolling along with her as the majority of his cables retreat whence they came. A lone cable winds itself around Grimm's midsection and drapes itself lightly across one of her forearms. Such a fashion statement metal cables make! Could this be the year metal makes its comeback on the fashion charts?!

"Can't you feel through your shadow tendrils?"

Malcolm seems vaguely surprised at the question, even if he's making a cable available for Grimm's inspection. He tips his head, regarding Grimm as they stroll along.

"It's... Not quite the same as bare skin, I grant you, but it's not horrible. Kind of like changing a tire with my gloves on, I guess."

Grimm runs her fingers along a length of the cable around her midsection, delicately tracing them as she smiles. "Yes...and no. I don't need my tendrils to feel things. It's...kind of strange, really. I don't know I could really explain it. I do feel a type of feedback if they're hurt, though."

She continues to inspect the cable curiously. She's used to their touch and embrace and enjoys them, but never realized he could feel much with them. She tickles it, pinches it lightly, then strokes it like one would a pet. "Gloves? Hmmm..." she murmurs thoughtfully as they draw closer to home.

The surface of the cable is ever so slightly yielding to Grimm's touch, as it always has been, and strangely around body temperature. It's less like touching a metal cable and more like touching a growth from Malcolm's very body. As Grimm traces over it, the cable gently tenses and flexes to give her a faint squeeze - reassurance maybe? - before it "relaxes" again.

"Tentacles are the damnedest things. Seem to be different for everyone that has them too," comments Malcolm, tone thoughtful and soft as he continues to stroll along toward home. There may have been more tracking than Grimm noticed on the way, when adrenaline was pumping heavily through her veins. At the very least, it feels like a longer walk home than it was getting to the alley and, by extension, that alternate dimension.

"Penny for your thoughts, beautiful?"

"I, oh! Was just...um." Gabrielle blushes a little. Maybe the thoughts had gone a different route than she expected. "Just realized I had never thought about the details of them before. I got curious. Maybe I need to pay them more attention," she grins as she affectionately pats the cable embracing her. Also, it may be good to know potential tickle targets. For the future.

Suddenly, her eyes narrow slyly with a growing grin. "How many other tentacle wielding people do you know?"

"A... A few," comments Malcolm. He doesn't quite sound sheepish or defensive, but he doesn't not sound either of those either. Grimm may have to liquor Malcolm up to get more details about these tentacle people he knows. Unless most of his sample group is actually Kala Marie.

"You know. I find it incredible that we are talking about stuff like this after you just narrowly escaped being trapped in an other dimensional Antarctic with a pack of," there's that word that sounds like "sharkturbans" again. Sharkturban this, sharkturban that, sharkturban-sharkturban-sharkturban SHARKTURBAN. "Not to mention you don't even seem concerned about having been to the Colavrassa at least twice now."

It's a good thing their plans involve beer, just as soon as they get home from their walk. She had been trying to avoid talking about the Sharkturbans until they got that drink. "Wait, twice...? So that wast he Colavrassa, too? I didn't recognize it!" So now that he's talking about it and doesn't seem to be locking up, she feels safe to talk about it. "And Sharkturbans...that's such a weird name...I keep expecting them to have funny hats and not be terrifying claw beasts." Hopefully she's totally misunderstanding the name.

Relieved that Malcolm is able to talk about it, she looks at him more seriously. "I've been to a lot of strange places, Mal. You don't even know. Like the time I got pulled into Mother Gothel's pocket dimension and trapped there by the heroes I was with. Or the time my shadow freaked out when I was in danger and took me to what it thought was a 'safe place', which would be a nightmarish hell realm that makes the cenobites home dimension look like a relaxing paradise." She looks a little haunted talking about it, and her grip on his hand slowly becomes firmer, like she's holding on to not get torn away to some crazy dimension.

"But what about you? How do you know about this Colavrassa place? Or Sharkturbans? And why are you even scared of them? You're invulnerable!"

Malcolm misses a step or three along the way, almost every time Grimm says "sharkturban". He may be trying to hold in uproarious and wholly inappropriate laughter. Finally, Malcolm breaks down in hysterical laughter out front of his garage. One hand comes up to brace him against the side of the building while his other hand firmly squeezes back on Grimm's hand - she's not the only one who can white-knuckle through this conversation - as he doubles over in unbridled laughter.

It takes Malcolm a solid minute to run out of steam in his laughing fit. He straightens up slowly, a metal cable snaking out of the neck of his shirts to wipe tears from his eyes as he tries to fix a look on Grimm's baby blues. Malcolm just ends up laughing again, eyes closed tight as he struggles to contain himself. Finally, /FINALLY/, Malcolm manages to straighten up and quell his boundless laughing.

"Oh man. Oh, Gabrielle. I don't even know how they'd react to smack talk like that."

Malcolm wipes away another tear or two before smiling brightly at Grimm.

"Sharkies," ???, "Are all claws and teeth. They're adapted for killing Colossuses. I'm just a guy that's maybe got access to Colossus' Flesh, that's cold comfort, y'know?"

Grimm blinks cluelessly as Malcolm laughs, unsure if it's at her expense or if she just said something really funny. She smirks a little onc ehe finally composes himself. "Well, they better suck it up, because nobody beats up on my boyfriend and gets away with it."

Except Firewing. And Paragon. And that train. And...maybe we shouldn't list them. Grimm would have a lot of people that needed cold revenge served to on Malcolm's behalf.

Gabrielle has trouble catching that strange name again. "Wait, so...if these sharkiesturbans are adapted to killing Colossuses...and you have their Flesh..." she begins to pale at the math. "Then those things are adapted at killing someone as tough as you...?"

After some more though, Gabrielle asks, "How did you even get access to that Colossus' Flesh...?"

"Sharkiesturbans?"

Malcolm's lips are quirked into a pained smirk - half laugh and half quizzical introspection - as he regards Grimm seriously.

"Are you doing that on purpose? I mean, you know making fun of their name doesn't help things when they're not here to get pissed, right?"

Perhaps Grimm is mispronouncing things? Is that the joke that got Malcolm to laugh like that?

There's a long, long pause from Malcolm at the more serious questions posed him. He rolls his shoulders and squeezes Grimm's hand in his own before gently leading the way back into the garage. Malcolm closes and locks the bay doors before he somberly intones, without meeting Grimm's eyes, "Same way I know anything about Metal Earth. Same way I survived Metal Earth."

Pause.

Slowly, almost cautiously, Malcolm inhales.

"Taniome. The Colossus that took me in when I ended up there. Or, at least, I assume that's how I got access to Colossus' Flesh. For all I know I have a symbiotic biometallic costume living inside of me because I ate extra-dimensional fruit."

"Well, you say their name so fast! It sounds like sharkturbans, or sharkiesturban." Gabrielle's cheeks flush a little as she tries to shift the blame on him rather than her inability to prounce the strange name.

She steps into the garage after him, eyeing the hole left by the ...okay, she still thinks it's a sharkturban. When she notices the pause and the squeeze, she turns her attention fully to Malcolm and puts on her serious, compassionate face.

Reaching up with her free hand, she rests it gingerly on his shoulder as he avoids eye contact. "I remember you talking about Taniome. I feel like there's more to your time with them and Metal Earth than you're telling, Handsome," she says softly.

"Metal Earth was a blur and it's been... It's been almost twenty years since I was there."

Slowly, Malcolm turns around to wrap Grimm up in a gentle hug. His head rests against her own, the tall man letting out a gentle sigh as he squeezes on her. With his eyes closed, Malcolm quietly whispers, "Repeat after me, Gabrielle."

Pause.

"TZAR-kuh-TEAR-rahn."

Pause.

"Sark."

Beat.

"Terran."

Pause.

"Sarkterran."

Grimm holds onto Malcolm gently, listening careful at his serious demeanor. She even gives a squeeze back as he squeezes her. She drops trying to be humorous or snarky as he places his head against hers.

She waits to hear it again a few times before she tries to repeat it. And when she does, she does so very slowly.

"Sarkterran."

"Quick learner," murmurs Malcolm, smiling at Grimm, "A cunning linguist if ever I've heard one."

He must be feeling better if he's up to making awful jokes. Malcolm squeezes on Grimm again, sighing quietly as he stands in the garage with Gabrielle in his arms. There is a very 'things are rough, but can life really get better than this' sort of framing to the image of the two of them. No doubt Daemon is somewhere across town, barfing at the duet.

Grimm may just be able to make an inappropriate joke. Okay, maybe she will. "It took me like two dozen times to get it right. I think that makes you the cunning linguist out of the two of us," she tease right back with the same awful joke.

She's glad he's at least up for joking and smile. She offers a smile back and rubs his back as he holds her in a moment of peaceful alone time. It's almost a certainty of Daemon's condition, given the unknown nanite monitoring bugs his slipped into Gabrielle's systems.

"Don't worry, Handsome. I've got your back. Always. Especially if those things show up again."

"Hopefully that was just a freak accident. One of those Oops-I-Portered-myself-again things, y'know, beautiful?"

Malcolm says it so very hopefully. He plants a sweet kiss on Grimm's lips and holds her close for a long, long moment as he just tries to clear everything from his head. It's been a surprisingly long time since he's really rested - having Eighth just show up to kidnap you is liable to have that effect - and that reality finally seems to be settling in on Malcolm.

Grimm is content to stay in Malcolm's arms for as long as possible. After the kiss, she rests her head against his chest and closes her eyes, releasing a relaxed breath in a content sigh. It's been rough and hectic for both of them. Between Malcolm's job as Special Agent of Starguard, Strange bizarre luck, the loss of his bike, and now this, there seems to be a long list of things to get between them and rest.

Seriously, what else could go wrong? They have no idea what the future still holds.

Gabrielle gives Malcolm the time to just breathe and hold on for a while. Finally, she lifts her head to gaze up at him, smiling softly. "Shall we go up and get those beers we were planning on? We could relax. Take a breather. Maybe we'll figure out how I ended up in the Colavrassa?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a plan to me," murmurs Malcolm. He gives Grimm one more squeeze, just to make sure he remembers the impression she makes on his senses, before letting her go and moving up the stairs from the garage to the cramped little passage into his apartment. Malcolm holds the doors open for Grimm, smiling warmly as he welcomes her into his humble-ish abode - it's West Colonial Heights, homes only come so humble in this market!

Grimm follows up behind Malcolm, squeezing past him and leaning up to give him a peck on the chin as she passes. Drive by pecking! "Thanks for holding the door open, Handsome," she smiles at his chivalry.

After her sidestep shuffle past him, she heads over to the kitchen. "First order of business: Beers. Second order of business: Relaxing. Third order: Fun. Which beer do you want?" she asks as she pulls open the fridge door, her body illuminated by the cold glow of the fridge. Her eyes peruse the selection. "And do you want something to munch on?"

"Cold one," is Malcolm's cheerful, matter of fact reply to the question of which beer he wants. Malcolm closes the doors behind himself and Grimm before making his way over to the couch. He collapses across it in a heap that may or may not cause the illusory(?) clothes Grimm's swaddled him in to flicker.

"I'll just split whatever you're gonna nosh on, gorgeous," calls Malcolm. A cable inexplicably rises from under his collar to periscope about as the tall man sprawls bonelessly on the couch.

The illusionary clothes flicker and try to react realistically to the flopping, but Gabrielle is distracted and focused on fridge contents as she digs through it.

She pulls a cold beer out, looks over to Malcolm, and uses shadow energy to float the can over to his periscoped cable. But as she focuses on floating the can over, the illusory clothes fade out completely. At least they're safe and sound and away from prying eyes.

Gabrielle grabs a beer for herself. "Hmm...want me to reheat some of this Flying Saucer Pizza for us to share?" she says as she eyes the box of left overs.

"... There's Flying Saucer pizza?"

Malcolm sounds skeptical, like he hasn't even thought of the place in six months. His cable coils around the beer and pops the top off of it as the cable drags the chilled adult beverage down to a level where Malcolm can nurse on it. With a shrug, Malcolm calls, "If you want pizza, let's do pizza," in a lazy, quiet tone of voice.

Gabrielle's hand was hovering over the pizza, about to grab the box when Malcolm sounds surprise. That can't be a good sign if he doesn't remember it was there. Who knows how old it is. "On second thought..." Her hand moves to something else instead. Stick with the safe classics. This is more likely recent.

Mal can hear the microwave turn on, the buzzing hum and the rotating of the plate within. It starts to smell...sweet. And spicy in the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Gabrielle hops over the arm of the coach and lands by Malcolm's feet, bouncing a few times on the cushions. She has a box of reheated chiense takeout from a particular favorite place, with two pairs of chopsticks sticking out. In the other hand, she's got an unopened beer bottle.

"Sweet n' Spicy Hunan Lamb?" she asks as she holds the open box top towards him.

Malcolm says something completely incomprehensible at the offer of Hak Fu's. It's okay though because his mouth is full of beer bottle. He rolls his entire body in that weirdly fluid - particularly for such a tall, muscular guy - way that often inadvertantly showcases. It's like watching liquid metal roll and twist and contort through some violently churning upheaval.

Rather abruptly, Grimm finds herself snuggled up with her sweetie on the corner of the couch. One of Malcolm's hands is busily trying to manifest biometallic chopsticks (again) while his other hand searches for actual chopsticks.

"Now you are speaking my language!"

"That's because I happen to be taking Malcolmese at school this semester," Gabrielle grins as she finds herself near insta-snuggled. She curls up with him, kicking off her shoes so she can pull her feet up on the coach to cuddle.

She temporarily nestles her unopened bottle next to herself so she has a free hand to grab her set of chopsticks. She then proceeds to pick up a bite-sized piece of sweet 'n' spicy lamb and holds it out for Malcolm to bite while he tries to coordinate his own plan of attack on the food. She has a warm smile for him as she offers him the first bite.

"Oh? What's the first lesson in Malcolmese?" teases Malcolm. He plants a kiss on Grimm's cheek, grinning playfully as he fights with his biometallic membrane for supremacy over the comparatively simple feat of chopsticks. Not for the first time, Malcolm ends up with knitting needles that he clack-clacks against themselves before allowing them to dissolve back into his own flesh.

"And why are chopsticks so hard?"

There is a pause as Malcolm regards the proffered sweet and spicy lamb nugget. He may be trying to decide whether or not this is part of the game. Slowly, Malcolm leans in to collect the proffered mouthful and chew on it happily. Malcolm's expression no doubt says everything.

"You've mastered martial arts, your metal, speak impressive sounding Japanese, and you somehow haven't conquered chopsticks?" Gabrielle grins while speaking in an incredulous tone.

"The first lesson in Malcolmese is you don't talk about Malcolmese?" she offers with an impish grin. She may not want to reveal her super secrets of knowing what makes him happy or relaxed.

As a happy distraction from Sharkturbens, sarkterrans, and Grimm's secret knowledge, she offers him another morsel of lamb from their favorite place. "Let's just say the class involves remember the little things that make Malcolm's happy."

"I don't know. Some shapes are more difficult to figure out how to make than others," offers Malcolm. He sounds sheepish, though he looks hungry as he curiously watches Grimm's hand, the chopsticks, and the box of sweet 'n' spicy lamb. With a happy nomf, Malcolm devours the next proffered bite of lamb.

"Pretty sure you're acing your Malcolmese class, Gabrielle."

"Hahah, sweet. That's at least one class I won't have to worry about. And there's always extra credit if things start to slip," Gabrielle winks at Malcolm, then rests and snuggles against him.

Food and beer, check. Snuggles? Check check.

"Once you're relaxed and ready, we can talk more about that scary stuff. But I want you relaxed, happy, and feeling safe first." She lists her critera as being very important by the sound of her voice.

"Fair enough," murmurs Malcolm. He plants another kiss on Grimm's cheek, lazily sprawling on the couch again. Malcolm's one hand finally finds the hidden chopsticks and collects a pair for his own use. Snapping and rolling the slender spikes, Malcolm regards Gabrielle thoughtfully for long moments. "What do you want to know?"

Gabrielle makes a happy little sigh at the kiss on the cheek.

"Whatever you think I should know about those things." She settles back herself, leaning back against the arm of the couch and facing the sprawled Malcolm. She finally takes a few bites of lamb for herself, munching away in thought.

"You said they were good at hunting Colossus. Colossi? Which sounds like they may be good at hunting you," she says with some worry.

"Sarkterrans are..." Malcolm pauses a moment, seemingly trying to decide something, before he finally intones, "They're like raptors straight out of a Jurassic Park movie. You know what I mean?"

Grimm nods slowly, her chewing going even slower. "Hunt in packs? Know how to use doors?" she says wtih a weak note of humor.

Malcolm offers a little smile and a shrug before he weakly replies, "Clever girl."

The tall man leans his head back over the top of the couch and he lets out a long, hard sigh. It takes him a few seconds to really find where he wants to go with his explanation.

"What they hunt, they kill. That's about all I really know about them for sure. Next question, Gabrielle?"

Grimm giggles softly at the clever girl comment. She couldn't help it. But she tries to straighten up as she sees it's really bothering Malcolm.

She leans forward and rubs Malcolm's leg comfortingly. "How do I fight them? If they come back again?" she asks simply. She fought one off in a rush, but maybe Malcolm knows some sort of tricks or weaknesses.

"I don't know. I..."

Malcolm trails off for a moment, voice choking for a split-second as he studies Grimm's face. There's a memory there, raw and painful, that Malcolm's trying to keep out of sight. It could be endearing or it could be comical how bad Malcolm is at lying about these memories' existence.

"I've never fought one. I'm sorry, gorgeous. I wish I could be more help."

Grimm seems to finally catch on to something. Possibly. It's painfully obvious how much pain there is for Malcolm to talk about this, but she's getting the hints of perhaps why this is. He's seen them before. Learned to fear them. And be protective. And he probably has a past reason to.

Gabrielle sets the leftovers and her untouched beer on the coffee table, then scoots in to rest against Malcolm's side, wrapping her arms around him. Just using simple contact to make him feel better, or safer, hopefully.

She seems to want to ask, but she's afraid to push it too much. "But you ran from them before, right?" she asks very softly.

"I was a kid, y'know?"

Malcolm doesn't look down, just tilts his head so his chin rests against Grimm's head. One arm curls around her, holding her close and secure. Absently Malcolm chews on his lip, steel eyes looking off in some other direction. She can probably imagine the tracery reflection of the flashback in his mind's eye playing across his corneas.

"A kid in a strange place. No powers. No idea what was going on. Where I was."

Grimm gives Malcolm a soft, secure squeeze. "That sounds so scary. And now somehow those things made a way into this dimension. Well, don't worry. We'll deal with them. Maybe something's changed at the Colavrassa. Something that weekened the barrier between this world and that."

Uh oh. Gabrielle sounds like she's pondering something...

"I don't... I don't think it works like that, Gabrielle. There's something different about Metal Earth, about the Colavrassa..."

Malcolm pauses a moment, eyes turning to meet Grimm's eyes. He offers a small smile, one of those hapless smiles of his where it's clear he only knows enough to know he doesn't know enough. A hand comes up to brush Grimm's hair back as he studies her face.

"There's other places connected to them. It's almost like how the Fae have their whole little cross-dimensional empire, but knotted up differently. I wish I could... Remember. I wish I knew more. I wish I could explain it better."

There it is again. Those turning gears behind Gabrielle's eyes. Light may even be shining through them as a light bulb goes off in her head. A dimb one, but one none the less. "It's okay, Handsome. I think you're right about there being something different about Metal Earth and the Colavrassa."

There's a momentary pause as Gabrielle considers a plan that really is more impulsive than thought out. "And I'm going to try and find out what." To make sure he'll be safe from any other sarkterrans or other monsters that want to kill collosi or Malcolms.

Pulling her knees under her, Gabrielle gets into a kneeling position on the couch as she straightens up from leaning against Malcolm. But then she leans in again, giving Malcolm a soft kiss on the cheek. "I'll be back in a little bit," she says gently. Which makes her kiss a goodbye one.

She sits back on her heels, closing her eyes, adn begins to focus on the Colavrassa. Dark energy begins to well about her, expanding and preparing to swalling her up and send her off to another dimension.

Malcolm's eyebrows knit together automatically at the word 'going' that spills out of Grimm's mouth. There is a second or so of uncomfortable pause as Malcolm's brain sorts through every possible answer. He already knows the answer though. It's the kiss that seals the deal, so to speak, and Malcolm's eyebrows arch in a mixture of surprise and pride and gutteral fear.

"No! Don't-"

Let's face it: Neither the Universe nor the writers nor the audience like Malcolm and Grimm enough for Malcolm to succeed in interrupting Grimm's transdimensional Shadow Step. His hands and cables grapple with smoke and shadows as The Darkness consumes Grimm. She may even feel a weird tingle from the way Malcolm's appendages and phalanges shred through the soupy fog of her vanishing silhouette.

And then...

Then Grimm is alone in the Space Between. As ever, there is just a little maneuvering to be done to get where she wants to be.

Grimm knew Malcolm would be worried or try to stop her. But she couldn't just go without saying goodbye. She wouldn't want to hurt him like that. This may already be painful enough as is for him.

She starts to feel the Space In Between as the shadows wrap around her in a cold embrace. It pulls and tugs on her, warping her into a vast emptiness. Her eyes flutter open and she gasps as she gets the strange, chilling sensation from Malcolm's cables and hands swiping through her disappating form. The last thing she sees is Malcolm's fearful expression before she plunges into that cold darkness In Between.

And then, she's hovering in a void. It's not completely colorless as one would expect. There's hues of dark purples and blues if you look long and hard enough, so dark they looks ALMOST black. It all adds a richness to the darkness in between. And it's not as silent and empty as one might think. There's those unrecognizeable whispers from beyond. They're all around her.

From here, the source of darkness and shadows, connected to all things, Gabrielle takes a moment to center herself. Her shadow sight helps her guide a way through the shadows between worlds, like portals. Her focus is on the Colavrassa. She vaguely remembers how the place felt from this visit, and what little she could remember of her first visit when she was lost, traveling across dimensions trying to find a way home.

Finally, she feels a sort of resonance for what she's looking for. Gabrielle rotates in this dark ether, just floating as if suspended in water. Her hair waves about unnaturally, as if also underwater and reacting to unseen currents. Gabrielle thinks she's heading to the right place, and begins to focusing on piercing the veil between Here and There again. There's a channeling of power, the feeling of rushing towards something even though she can't really see where, until she sees a pinpoint of light then grows and grows. It gives the illusion of being in a tunnel and rushing for the exit, until the light fills her vision and blinds her...

To date, Grimm has been to the Colavrassa twice that she knows of. Both times have been radically different experiences. Once was a burning, broiling desert wasteland at the fringe of what was once a civilization older than anything she had experienced. Shattered ruins were half-sunken into glittering, shimmering desert sands like the ribs jutting from the rotten flesh of a positively Titanic corpse. It was an experience indelibly seared into her memory by the light of three suns as she fell out of the In Between and staggered through the broiling, burning sandscape.

Beyond the blasted, bleached ruins of a civilization lost, she could see the monstrous outlines of a Sarkterran pack. Incomprehensible monsters roaming the wastes in search of food and shelter, the light of their suns reflecting harshly off of the polished metal plates and scales decorating their minimal clothing. Ahead of them, two lone blades carve through the desert sands, leading the sarkterrans onward through the wastes toward prey unsensed by Grimm's burgeoning Dark Senses.

Perhaps an hour ago, Gabrielle Grimm walked through a portal between worlds. She found herself in a vast, featureless plain and accosted by the shimmering, glittering dance of diamond dust on an unforgiving wind. Mounting the horizon was an absolute horde of sarkterrrans, the monstrous things apparently as immune to the sub-freezing temperatures as Grimm herself. No more than an hour ago, Gabrielle Grimm was face-to-face with the stark, alien beauty of a desert cast not in heat, but in purest, most inhospitable cold.

Gabrielle Grimm emerges from the In Between, birthed into a new reality by long, pale brown-grey shadows. She - like her readers - would be forgiven for her confusion as she gets a look at her surroundings. Muddy light flashes through veins of ore and crystal embedded in the cream-, umber-, mocha-, and scarlet-streaked rocks that form a vast, vaulted ceiling overhead. Pillars of granite and basalt suspend the celestial sphere of earth in the sky. Earthen retaining walls of varying heights and densities are built up in many places, no doubt creating dazzling patterns if seen from above.

Crunching and cracking under Grimm's feet is some form of blackish gravel, the pebbles as like to support her weight as to break in half or splinter into a rough, gritty dust cloud as Gabrielle moves to take in the place that surrounds her. A gloomy weight hangs over this place, its presence felt even in the dense pressure of the air in this subterranean locale. It feels for all the world like Gabrielle Grimm has invaded an other-worldly mausoleum, an unsettling monument to the Dead.

"Welcome to my humble home, Outlander," rumbles a voice older and deeper than anything on Earth has a right to be. It seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, not so much echoing as simply reverberating in the still, custard-thick air.

Naturally, the issue closes out on a wide-frame splash of Grimm standing on a low rise and facing the reader. Behind her, leering over her right shoulder is a luminous amber eyeball inside of which she could "hide", limbs spread wide in all directions. A bone-colored snout peeks out from behind the rammed earth and standing stones to her left, a hazy blue-grey fog bank rolling out of the lone nostril visible at its end, roughly at hip-level with the lone heroine.