Poughkeepsie Attacks!!!: Team Smith Brothers

[gone_byebye]

The Smith Brothers were once upon a time considered the Beards Who Made Poughkeepsie Famous. In many a world, their old factory has long since shut down and their product is now manufactured in Chicago. Not so here; the same factory continues to operate, churning out lozenges by the gross.

Or they do during the day, anyway. Tonight the place is crawling with security. Who knew that non-prescription cough drops needed so many guardians?

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[stilljustandrew]

*Landing is definitely preferable -- quieter as well as safer. Andrew waits till their makeshift skyraft is settled before straightening up and stepping off.*

*Instead of saying anything, he raises one finger to his lips and gestures purposefully at the door with his other hand.*

[precocioustilda.livejournal.com]

Matilda nods, taking the time to flip the sign over so that its stealthy side is up before moving to check if the door is locked. Hey, it might get seen from the air. Who knows.

The door isn't locked. With a shrug, she opens it. Somewhat gingerly, yes, because it's possible it might be rigged to set off an alarm of some kind, but the only other option she can see is standing around on the roof waiting for Something To Happen.

[gone_byebye]

There is no alarm, no.

There's just a bit of scuffing of a patch of floor as the not-quite-even bottom edge of the door scrapes across a crudely drawn design on the floor, placed there some time ago by the enterprising fellows who're at work down among the vats and tubes and hoppers. Something in the air shimmers in response, and swells, and cascading arcs of PKE silently lift from the ground floor and twine themselves around the equipment in the factory.

... Andrew and Tilda might very well be able to see some of that going on as they peer over the catwalk into the factory. They'll definitely be able to see the greater runic circle down below, the one that was in the process of being completed by two not-quite-clued-in men consulting several sheets of paper.

[stilljustandrew]

Oh, frell, we just set off a tripwire circle.

*Except the men below don't seem to be noticing. Too focused on the ... *

*... the other circle.*

Thaaaat's not good.

[precocioustilda.livejournal.com]

...See icon.

"Define not good," she says around the oopsface.

[stilljustandrew]

Not the tripwire one, that one --

*He points.*

It's a power-circle, it's supposed to divert energy along particular lines, like if you wanted to gather all the local ambient energy towards one purpose? Except he hasn't got it grounded anywhere I can see -- that diagram looks like it would just send the mojo ricocheting in a totally random direction --

*His voice may be getting just a tiny bit louder.*

[precocioustilda.livejournal.com]

"...Will it stop working if I blow it up?" is the first question she thinks to ask, raising a finger to her lips at the same time because the last thing they need is for both of them to attract attention needlessly.

[stilljustandrew]

I can't -- *He catches her quieting gesture and subsides back to the barely audible whisper.* I can't tell. It's totally nonstandard. Whoever designed that circle was either a complete ignoramus or an absolute master.

They haven't finished it yet, maybe we should just, I don't know ... distract them?

[gone_byebye]

That may not be necessary, if the amorphous shape slowly gorbling its way out of the shadows is anything to go by. The PKE arcs found a place to earth themselves when the tripwire circle went off- the first vats of cough drop mixture to be poured out on the morrow, waiting silently in lidded slumber. Spirit energy pouring through such a medium has interesting effects, like creating a drive to come together with more of the same substance and really cut loose on everything in sight.

"Hey, Will," says one of the men kneeling on the floor to the other, "is it just me, or do you suddenly smell a lot more cherry in the air?"

"Huh?" says Will.

"GRAAAR," says the cough drop monster.

[precocioustilda.livejournal.com]

"...Really," Matilda comments, staring, "I'm not sure whether to let them be distracted by that or start throwing fireworks. The creature seems to have impeccable timing for a blob of animated cough remedy."

[stilljustandrew]

*Andrew's staring too.*

... yeah that'll work.

[gone_byebye]

There's a small clatter as Will's paintbrush falls to the ground, followed by his written instructions. Of course, Andrew might not hear it over the "AIIIIIGH!" that Will's companion lets out. Or over the cough drop blob monster's second mighty ROAR, or the oozing sounds it makes as it shluckshluckshlucks towards them at a disconcerting clip- anyway, you get the picture. The two men are running in the space of heartbeats as the cough drop monster comes at them.

It bellows again and whips a couple of pseudopods this way and that in search of other presences. One of them seems to be growing upwards, possibly to get a better look at high places?

[precocioustilda.livejournal.com]

Matilda yeep!s.

And, because she's sensible that way, tugs on Andrew's arm to get them both out of sight of the door.

Also, she's going to be looking for a way down off that roof that doesn't go through the building, now. All things considered she'd rather be solidly on the ground if and when she starts letting loose with the explosives.

"I think we had best get to ground level," she explains lest Andrew not follow this train of thought. "In case I need to blow things up, and one of those things happens to end up being this building."

[stilljustandrew]

Right there with you--

*He's looking for a fire escape.*

[gone_byebye]

And he finds one- old, and a bit rickety, but still up to code and eminently capable of supporting one person at a time.

Which is good, because the pseudopods are shlucking swiftly towards the stairs.

[precocioustilda.livejournal.com]

Tilda thinks quickly. It's a talent.

"You first," she says, motioning to the ladder. "In case I need to throw things at the medicine monster."

Of the two of them, Matilda surmises she makes the better rearguard.

[stilljustandrew]

*He shakes his head.* You first. Always send the lightest member of the party first to cross a rickety structure. And if I get stuck up here you can levitate me down --

*As he speaks, he's rummaging in his coat's capacious pockets.*

[precocioustilda.livejournal.com]

"Right."

Finding his logic acceptable, she nods and starts for the fire escape.

[stilljustandrew]

*Tranq gun, no. Smoke pellets, no. Crossbow, no. Holy water ... eh, it's worth a try, even if it only makes the thing stickier.*

*Andrew stands braced at the top of the fire escape, waiting to see if the thing will come for them.*

[precocioustilda.livejournal.com]

Matilda is a six-year-old girl climbing down a ladder in a hurry. It's not much more than three-quarters of a minute before she thumps to the ground and peers anxiously up at Andrew. She will be highly put out if it turns out she should've stayed back to guard him after all.

[stilljustandrew]

*He's dividing his attention unevenly between the door and the ladder, and sees the gelatinous red pseudopod questing around the doorframe with Matilda still a few feet from the bottom.*

Go, go, go --

*He throws down the glass bottle of holy water just in front of the door; it shatters very satisfactorily, spraying glass and water everywhere, just as Matilda thumps to the ground.*

*He swings himself over the edge of the ladder, and pauses for just a split second to gauge the effects of the holy water, if any.*

[gone_byebye]

There's a little hissing, a little splurting- and then the pseudopod buds off a sizable sphere of its own mass and the holy water. The sphere is pushed away by the rest of the creature's oozy central structure, toppling to the ground below.

Then the mass of medicine resumes its former course.

[stilljustandrew]

*Andrew stares, and it cannot be denied that it's a stare of fascination.*

Wow. Like a lizard tail!

*...Possibly he isn't retreating as fast as he should, in the face of the common geek frailty of Oh Hey Look At That.*

[precocioustilda.livejournal.com]

All right - point the first: cast a worried glance to the dropped blob to make sure it really isn't moving. (It's not. Good.)

Point the second: whatever's happening up there, get Andrew the heck away from it.

He'll find himself being lifted as though by an invisible hand and thrown towards the ground, making the same descent as Tilda did only about six feet further out from the building and about ten times faster.

It's perfectly safe, of course. Matilda's control is exacting; when his feet are a few inches from the ground he halts abruptly and drifts the rest of the way with measured gentleness.

[stilljustandrew]

*Nobody gave Andrew the memo about it being perfectly safe!*

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaa...