Poughkeepsie Attacks!!!: Welcome To The CIA

[gone_byebye]

The Culinary Institute of America, as Flynn so astutely put it, is a former Jesuit seminary. As such it's located more towards the IBM corporate campus than any of the other lcations already under inspection. As such, it's rather more remote than the others; one side of the property is bounded by US Highway 9, and the other side overlooks a steep drop down to the Hudson River. The Highway 9 side is all but hidden from the world thanks to trees galore, most of which are conifers, the rest of which are putting on a stunning display of autumn color.

It's some distance from the highway across campus to the old main building, but it's probably simpler than making the assault from the river side....

Comments

[librarian-flynn.livejournal.com]

Fortunately, Flynn has spent most of his adult life on one college campus or another, so it's not difficult for him to walk around as if he belongs. Knowing the layout of the place doesn't hurt either.

"So," he says to his companion, "what kind of odds you want to lay that this is actually where the thing is?"

[gone_byebye]

The entry from Highway 9 rolls past a small chapel and up over a wooded hill before sloping back down again towards the main campus buildings. There are signs all over, although most of them are for the varying restaurants. Buildings of interest to the students are located a little further back than that.

There's a parking lot not far off to the right of the main campus road that looks about as full as one might expect. Most of the cars have New York plates. A couple of older sedans and a minivan or two, if one looks, are marked with out of state registrations- mostly from Illinois.

[md_donighal]

"I wouldn't necessarily rule it out," the man in the gray suit allows as, "but if it is here, it's only by way of a much subtler fake-out than I believe Peck to be capable of." Just in case, he turns on the mana-spectrum filter of his aetheric vision to check for divine artifact (technically, the Ark's energies are probably up in the primal part of that spectrum).

He happens to notice some of the Illinois plates and cross-references them with a datapoint Ray dropped on them in the initial briefing. "Illinois Nazis," he thinks in nested quotation. "I hate Illinois Nazis." "Still, stomping Nazi butt is always a worthwhile endeavor." He adds the infrared spectrum to his visual range, to detect the body heat of neo-fascists on the hoof.

[gone_byebye]

The primal part of the spectrum is not all that strong here; if the Ark was on the spot, it was here some time ago. Although there's a fine haze of that sort of energy clinging to the vicinity of the main building, and a slow-building, stronger bubble of more ordinary mana past the main building towards the river overlook.

[md_donighal]

The active mana bubble gets Michael's attention. "Somebody's got their mojo rising over thataway." He points, waits for acknowledgement, then takes off in that direction: fast enough to have a shot at getting there before the bubble pops, not so fast that the human gets left hopelessly behind.

[librarian-flynn.livejournal.com]

Flynn's no slouch. A few years of trekking around the world has done much to keep him in shape. He manages to keep pace, more or less, without straining too much.

"So, what level of mojo we talking about? Your average everyday sorcerer, or the holy-crap-my-face-is-melting variety?"

[md_donighal]

"Average everyday sorcerer. Though he, she or it is building up something slow and steady. I don't think letting him set it off is exactly a good idea, y'know?"

[librarian-flynn.livejournal.com]

He lets out a small sigh of relief. "Good. Those, I'm used to. Any idea what the buildup's for?"

[md_donighal]

"Not yet, but I don't want to find out the hard way."

[gone_byebye]

Probably for the best, all things considered. The air- to Donighal, at least- takes on a faintly tinny taste, a sort of feeling against the teeth of chewing on aluminum foil, as they draw closer. It's not quite the ozone-discharge stink that accompanies so many paranormal manifestations as they ionize across the planar barriers, but it's in very much the same family. The telluric energies here are gathering themselves for some unknown peak and release.

The two men come to a sign that says

CONTINUING EDUCATION -->
<-- CATERINA DI MEDICI RESTAURANT
^
|
| MAIN ENTRANCE

The continuing education arrow points to a downward slope; the Caterina Di Medici one points to a road that turns uphill and out of sight around a stand of trees. The main entrance one, on the other hand, points towards a large building that Flynn probably knows, one with slow easy stone steps leading up to it and a gazebo out front with a truly commanding view of the area.

The two bulky men in worn leather jackets and Turner Diaries T-shirts who've taken up positions at the gazebo's rail would probably agree. One of them seems intent on observing something just out of sight in the direction of the big energy swell, towards the river. The other is making an attempt at back-and-forth patrols.

[md_donighal]

They must be pretty powerful energies if Michael can taste them, let alone if they're giving him tingrith. Or maybe that's just a side-effect particularly inherent in them. He's not, however, so distracted by the sensation that he misses a third set of human life signs (heartbeat and all) about eight feet up one of the taller pines in the stand.

"Yell if you need any help with these two," he tells Flynn. "Please," he hastily adds before strolling off toward the Caterina Di Medici, giving no sign that he knows there's anyone waiting for him en route.

[librarian-flynn.livejournal.com]

"Gee, thanks," the Librarian replies dryly.

There's no cover between where he is and the other two, so there's no use trying to pretend like there is. He just heads casually toward the gazebo, pulling a textbook and a penlight out of his backpack. When he approaches the pair, he just nods politely. "Evenin', guys. How's it going?"

[gone_byebye]

There's a moment's startlement on both the big fellows' parts. "Erich," one hisses, "I thought you used the other Hand of Glory!"

"I did!" Erich hisses back before raising his voice. "Going all right," he answers, in one of those tones that implies it would go far better if Flynn were somewhere else. Say, Brazil.

***

Meanwhile, in the trees, the more clever of the three is easing himself out to an advantageous position on one of the branches in the pines. No one is supposed to be here tonight. This can't be good.

[md_donighal]

Here's the fierce vulture sitting on a tree limb waiting for a victim, Michael thinks as he saunters closer to the trees, trying to look like a harmless eccentric who's never been anywhere near a fight.

[gone_byebye]

As a matter of fact, the fellow in the tree has just enough knowledge of the campus to mix Michael up with Chef Rudy Spiess, a native of Switzerland who teaches dessert-making courses to food service professionals. Chef Rudy is not exactly a man known for his fighting prowess, so Vulture feels confident enough to gather himself for what he thinks of as the Death From Above maneuver.

[md_donighal]

Michael would be flattered to know that he's being mistaken for someone who actually belongs on the campus. As it is, he's busy managing not to hum "I'm Just a Little Black Raincloud"*, nor to look like a man with superhuman reflexes, as he passes under the very branch from which Vulture's about to swoop.

* He is, however, thinking Tut-tut, it looks like rain rather loudly.

[gone_byebye]

Oh, this is just too easy, thinks Vulture. But he, like all his kind, is an opportunist who does not pass up what is offered to him on a platter...


The narration wishes to apologize for any negative light this may cast on real vultures. They're far more vital to the ecosystem than this guy, and probably more intelligent.

[md_donighal]

Vulture has good reflexes. Against a baseline human — the actual Rudy Spiess, for instance — he'd probably have landed right on the guy's head and been able to catch him so far off-balance he never recovered, possibly never recovered anything.

Michael Daemon Donighal, even operating at his 1920s power level, is very much not a baseline human. He gets out of Vulture's way while the man is plummeting, dodging the very moment the other has irrevocably let go of the tree branch.

WHAM!

Maybe he should have gone to pouncing school. Michael waits a few moments to see if Vulture's conscious, capable of actual fighting, or otherwise a danger to himself and others.

[gone_byebye]

He's conscious. stunned as hell and cradling his left arm and gasping for breath, but conscious. "Ooooow... what the hell," he moans.

People don't move like that!

[librarian-flynn.livejournal.com]

"Good, good," he replies, paying no attention to the tone and continuing up to the steps of the gazebo. "Party going on all down my floor, so I figured if I was going to get any work done, I needed to find someplace quiet. Corner of the gazebo sounded like a good idea."

[gone_byebye]

"Really," says Erich, who's mentally going over the possible ways you could screw up the use of a Hand of Glory. It's practically fire-and-forget magic. Peck must've gotten the spell wrong- "Hey, don't let me get in your way, huh?"

Not until you try to leave, anyway, he's thinking. His compatriot is doing an exaggeratedly casual lean against one of the gazebo railings, watching the guy.

[librarian-flynn.livejournal.com]

"Sure thing. Thanks a lot," Flynn replies with a grin. He heads up the steps, but the textbook drops out of his hands right about the time he gets roughly between the two guys.

The Librarian lets out an exasperated sigh and kneels down to retrieve it, muttering, "Stupid stairs. Gonna break my neck one of these times."

And then sends his fist flying squarely into Erich's, um, Little Hitler. Sucker punch -- it's an oldie but goodie. Erich doubles over, predictably, which gives Flynn a chance to grab the front of his shirt and throw him into his approaching buddy.

[gone_byebye]

Erich is very good at cursing, but his buddy is better at dodging. As the thrown neo-Nazi goes rolling across the gazebo floor, the other man fairly leaps away from the railing, jackbooted foot aiming low and fast for Flynn's shins.

[librarian-flynn.livejournal.com]

Flynn throws himself backwards down the steps, turning the fall into a roll when his butt hits the grass and coming up on his feet.

The jackbooted thug does not stumble when his kick fails to connect, which frankly annoys Flynn, and instead uses the impetus to leap across the distance.

Once both feet have left the ground, Flynn lets loose with his other weapon -- the penlight. It's brighter than any normal penlight has a right to be, and Flynn shines it right in the guy's night-adjusted eyes as he jumps to the side.

[gone_byebye]

As well it should. That kind of thing cheeses off even seasoned Hong Kong veterans. Fortunately, the penlight works; there is a yell of "AUGH!" and a general pawing at of the face as the thug staggers, half-blinded.

Erich is getting up and coming back for round two, meanwhile. Coming in low and mean, with all the soft parts as far back as he can manage and still charge at Flynn.