5162/Astral Flux: Order into Darkness

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Astral Flux: Order into Darkness
Date of Scene: 13 August 2018
Location: Unknown
Synopsis: Shredder and Kitsune meet with one of the fungal telepaths.
Cast of Characters: Shadow King, Shredder
Tinyplot: Astral Flux


Shadow King has posed:
Ron was sent a message by Karai. That was weeks ago, though. No reply, naturally, as Ron was otherwise occupied and unable to respond. Research into that would show that his apartment building was destroyed, it had a massive mushroom growing up out of it for some reason, and the whole of it collapsed after 'heroes' fixed the issue. Ever since then, he's been missing, and hasn't attended to his voicemail. He was also abducted and has been missing.

What a jerk.

But there's a reply today. It isn't a voice that would be familiar, at all. Just a female tone: clearly not Ron. "Hello, Karai. I am returning the call related to continuing discussion of mutant town and the fungus. Ron will be unable to do more business with you, but I can connect you to our mutual leader, if you would like to talk more. Please let me know. My name is Heather. I can be reached at this number."

Shredder has posed:
    The Foot Elite delivered the message to Shredder in Karai's absence. In turn, he delivered the message to Kitsune. Kitsune cautioned the dangers, but the Immortal Dragon Warrior would not hear any of it.

    "One who has power over minds is one that you must be wary of, lest they deceive you." Kitsune admonished.
    "That it why you will join me in the venture," Shredder answered. "I will not allow 'powers' to hinder my ambitions, regardless of how many or how strong they may be."

    He takes the phone in hand, a common burn phone used for the purposes, and strikes the call back button with his thumb.

Shadow King has posed:
"Hello?" Answers the same voice as from the message before. "Heather Lee speaking," she adds. Her tone is actually fairly warm, pleasant. There is a friendly expectation to it, as if this were a perfectly normal business deal about to occur.

Shredder has posed:
    "Heather Lee," Saki answers, looking at the discontent studious gaze from his wife. "You returned a call for my chuunin, Karai," he says simply. "I will speak with you on the matters about which she called."

Shadow King has posed:
"Your chew-nin?" Heather asks, puzzled. But she recovers from that quickly. "I understand now. Ron's information is not accessible to me now, but I believe I know of you, sir. I am able to either converse about mutant town, or potentially connect you higher, should I not be enough. Would you prefer to meet in person? I can arrange anything you like, per your comfort; I am in New York presently." Heather sounds very assistant in style, and a little bit spooked by the whole of it. Like someone that was a little out of her depth overall.

Shredder has posed:
    Saki looks back to Kitsune for a moment, and then down at the phone. "There is a smoke shop at 11250 Resinger Ave. in Mutant town. I will meet you there in half an hour, and we can discuss how our agreement might be met." He hangs up the phone.

    "There are higher ranking members of their order," Kitsune observes.
    "Yes, but they need not know much of me yet. They will soon enough. Let us see if they can be of value."
    "As you command, beloved."

Shadow King has posed:
Heather must have dropped what she was doing to go. She's there in ten minutes: very early. She's a lovely woman of korean descent, her hair a tousle of dark curls at her shoulders. She's probably mid twenties. She's in a sharp suit, well tailored to her slim body, with a bag set near her side. She's watching the street, a distance to her dark brown eyes, before she draws her phone out to fiddle with it, and a cigarette of her own, recently purchased from the shop just behind her. She has some anxiety but is holding it back - mostly.

Shredder has posed:
    Shredder arrives ten minutes after Heather, but he came in the back. A man in a black T-shirt and blue jeans exits the shop. He can't be older than eighteen or twenty. "Excuse me, are you Miss Lee?" he asks. Upon confirmation, the young man points back into the shop. "My master is inside," he says. Apparently the small shop is a front of sorts. He leads her back to a back room, rather average, nothing flashy. It looks like it is a clean, yet humble break room for a shop that is nothing more than it seems. At the table sits the jonin in his armor, face naturally hidden from a stranger. The young man bows low and formally to Shredder, then makes his way back out of the room promptly. In the corner behind him, stands Kitsune, the japanese woman dressed in what might be expected of a japanese woman several generations older.

Shadow King has posed:
"Yes, I am," Heather agrees, accepting the guide to lead her inside, but putting out her cigarette before she enters. It was mostly done anyway. She slows as she is brought into the room, and echoes the young man's bow to some degree, though not as deep, to both Shredder and Kitsune. Her eyes are curious, there is a sense to her that she isn't quite sure what she should do, but she's proud and is winging it well. "Hello. I hope to be able to continue the conversation you had been having with Ron," Heather says, respectfully staying where she is until offered otherwise.

Shredder has posed:
    "I hope so as well," Shredder answers. He motions to the seat across from him. "You are a mutant yourself?" he asks directly to start the conversation. "I find that most often mutants are those most concerned with the well-being of Mutant Town, as might be expected." He sits casually, contrastingly unconcerned.

Shadow King has posed:
Heather's gaze lingers on the mask, curiosity apparent, but she draws the chair back and sits down without concern. "Yes, though I'm not public about it, and I don't live there. Ron does -- or did." Heather says, pressing her lips together briefly and shaking her head. "But I am connected to several of the leaders of the area. Directing the population is relatively easy. And other areas of the greater city. I prefer to call it influence." She smiles. She is far more personable than Ron, in comparison: she has a reserved quality, and her curious eyes and smile lends to the disarming.

Shredder has posed:
    "Ron is currently detained, I know. His choice of words put him there. For a telepath, he did not read his audience very well," Shredder comments, revealing that he has some knowledge of what happened to Ron. "Influence, you say. This town desires protection. Most of them are afraid. Mutant kidnappings, hate crimes, and many of them either unaware of how their powers work or afraid to make use of them. I am able to offer the protection they desire."

    He tilts his helmed head to one side. "Tell me about this influence," he motions inspecifically toward her with a hand.

Shadow King has posed:
"Ron is ..." Heather's fear spikes but she's controlling it. "Gone," she says, finally. "He's a shell." There's a slight catch in her face musculature. She shakes her head slowly. "He is... what can happen." She's being tactful, though what exactly the reason is for the tact may be hard to decipher. "Yes, they want the humans to stay well away. Safety and protection. They are explosive, I think, overreactive. Sometimes for good reason, though." She tilts her head forward as she's asked about influence. "My friends can determine who is punished for what. What is noticed. What makes the news, what doesn't. How quiet something needs to be, or how loudly it needs to be said. Or when people like Ron disappear, who ends up knowing about it."

Shredder has posed:
    Shredder's eyes narrow, and he patiently waits until she is finished before he answers. "I would like to know exactly who your friends are, and what they do. I would encourage you not to presume I know anything about them, nor presume that I will not find out anything hidden. Beginning with what they want."

Shadow King has posed:
"I would say I have two types of 'friends'," Heather says, thoughtfully, weighing Shredder and his cloaked threat. She's smart, and is adaptive. "One which is... People among the police, the city structure: lawyers, judges. I'm connected." She pauses. "And the other-" She closes her eyes, and gestures with her fingers from her forehead. "Is those of us mentalists brought together, to try to help the city against the fungus, originally. But now it's something more. It is hard to describe. It has changed. It is more powerful than it was. And can reach beyond fungus."

"What do they want?" Heather can't suppress the shiver. "It's beyond me. Control? Strength? I haven't asked."

Shredder has posed:
    Shredder folds his hands, the sharp spikes of his claws crossing in front of him as he leans his elbows on the table. He ponders the statement for a few moments. The first half of the arrangement by itself has use. "What do you want?" he asks. "Why do you help them?"

Shadow King has posed:
"I like being at the top of the heap. I like money," Heather says, with a flash of a smile. She isn't afraid to admit her goal, there. She's mercenary. "All the best things are there with those that have the power, right?" Heather suggests. She's still friendly, just as before. "But I'm a survivor. I'm no Ron," she assures him, though her eyes move over the talons on his armor. "Is this a gamble? Sure. But it always works out for me."

Shredder has posed:
    While his mouth can't be seen, the smile in his eyes can be. "Indeed," he says with an arch of his brow. "You are far more personable," he acknowledges. "And a mentalist, as you say." He studies her face for a few moments. "I think that there could be reason to work with your organization. I would like to know who they are, first, though. Your motivation is money, which is simple enough. Some motivations are less direct, and I make a practice to know what motivates my allies before entering into agreement with them." His tone seems a little more casual than it has been.

Shadow King has posed:
Heather laughs a little too, seeming to pick up on the smile in more than one way. She's reading body language, and other cues. Again, adapting. Perhaps, though, telling him what she thinks he wants to hear. It could be a little of that. Her type, as Kitsune warned, is a tricksy sort. But perhaps she is on the level. Nothing about her has been clear lie. "Calling it an organization is a strong word. We had all of the fungus under our power, though," Heather says, with a wistfulness to it. They had the world. "Until that army was killed off by various people that didn't understand we had it well in hand." Sadness. Poor fungus. More like, poor Heather.

"I..." she pauses, orienting. Her behavior changes abruptly into tension and alarm, and she stares into space, as if suddenly unaware of anything around her.

Shredder has posed:
    Shredder's eyes narrow as the young woman starts to stare off into space, and he raises a finger, motioning Kitsune forward.

    "I sense that she is no longer herself," Kitsune says. "I sense fear, terror. She may have upset someone with her comments that she should not have." Shredder nods, but doesn't speak. Instead, he watches her intently, waiting to see what will develop next.

Shadow King has posed:
"I'm not upset," says the thing within Heather, with Heather's face and voice. Seems like Heather. Except that verbal admission just now. The change isn't at all visual. And the manner isn't all that different. The new thing is very adept. Kitsune will get a whole load of confusing and terrible vision, though. The thing is a sort of raw nerve of soul vomit. Elusive enough to still have heather's soul in the front. Heather's soul has calmed, turning serene: everything is fine. Kitsune's skills will see a little of the depths beneath that, though.

Heather leans back in the chair, stretching one arm against the back of it. Serenity. "I like the armor," Heather observes, thoughtful, complimentary, as if just seeing it just now. Eyes slide to Kitsune. She might be referring to Kitsune.

Shredder has posed:
    Kitsune steps closer, narrow dark eyes studying Heather. She looks a bit surprised at the sensation she receives, but there is a curiosity in her now as well. "<It is a great strength that is behind her,>" she says shortly in japanese, though frankly, she expects the force to know what is being said anyway.
    "I presume that I speak with Heather's associates?" Shredder asks placidly. He seems far less impressed than Kitsune. Then again, he can't sense all the things that his other half can. "Tell me what she could not," he says. "What is it that you seek," he asks.

Shadow King has posed:
"Think of me as a genie that enjoys being rubbed," Heather says in Japanese fluently. The tone is playful, but non aggressive. The thing is amusing itself. "I like making dreams into reality."

The room warps and fluxes with illusion: the chair becomes a throne coated in opulent gold and glittering gemstones, large dagger-like forms fanning out of it. Heather herself becomes adorned like a queen in rich golds and overlapping glittering wealth, her neck coated in a tall necklace to the chin, her body draped in royal purple that melts into gold-woven ends. The room is gone, an abyss of starry visual creativity: a milky way of stars and blended light. It is potent mind-bending effect. The ceiling above them unfolds into terraces of elaborate gold filigree, fluttering lavender pedals on the wind, the scent of them as real as anything else.

"Heather and the others are mine, yes. While they behave," Heather's voice says gently, stroking the arm of the throne. A closer look will show the gold is actually gold-plated carved human bones. "They make it easy to chat with new friends. What is it /you/ seek from me, 'Shredder'?"

Shredder has posed:
    "I am the immortal dragon warrior," Shredder introduces himself by position more than name now. "I have conquered the afterlife itself, and have returned to bring order to this world, and then to all worlds." He takes a moment to enjoy the illusion.

    "Be careful, my love," Kitsune warns, stepping herself into the conversation. "You have other goals, what shall I call you?" she challenges. "And know that if you seek to destroy my master, you shall first need to contend with me." She seems less impressed with the illusion than Shredder himself is.

Shadow King has posed:
"/Order/, hmmm," Heather says, as if tasting the word, and finding it a little bit tart. She taps her mouth with her fingers and smiles to Kitsune. "Destroy? No, no. If those I give tools to destroy themselves, that's on them. I love the human /condition/ of trying, building, seeking, even enslaving. The self-serving willpower to crush others is a happy byproduct." With a sigh, she considers the question about goals and identity. "I am the thing that will be here when order collapses and the lights have gone out. I have no desire for titles today." A smile is given across both of them. "But that will be a while. In the meantime, we should be friends. I feel your heart, lovely." Heather looks more directly at Kitsune, but doesn't push on the matter. "I am not your enemy. No, I would see you succeed in all you desire."

Shredder has posed:
    Kitsune narrows her eyes, but is silent, no longer contending the point.

    "If you are done," Shredder comments toward Kitsune. He stands to his feet. "All power comes at cost," he announces. "What is yours?" He doesn't walk about, uncertain of the illusion about him.

Shadow King has posed:
'Heather' picks up on the uncertainty. The walls of the room fade back into reality, though they are not as they were; instead, they are crawling with insects and bugs on their surfaces. The galaxy still exists above them, and Heather is still adorned as a goddess. The gold has peeled at the edges, a soft smoke of blackness oozing out of it, and catching on raw edges here and there. The whole of the beautiful illusion feels corrupted, infested. Just because. It is minor fun flexes. "The cost? Information. I like to be /involved/. I get bored." Heather's shape changes amid the illusion, into a pulsing pure black abyss of nothing. It smells of sulfur, and glitters with fragments of disconnected flecks of dissolving flesh.

"Your council of 'Light' interests me. It would be so /rude/ to just show up. I'd like to be presented /properly/. Hand me that, and I'll grant you some headway on your goals. Your dear lady can vouch for my ability, I think," Heather teases towards Kitsune. "Even if I have only displayed what I wish you to see so far."

Shredder has posed:
    Shredder considers this for several seconds. "I will speak with them," he says, turning back to look at Kitsune, who remains stone-faced about the issue. "Your servant, Heather," Shredder says. "Should she be contacted once such a meeting can be organized?"

Shadow King has posed:
"You can tell what's left of Ron if you prefer," Heather shrugs. And then winks. All of the illusion drops away suddenly like a curtain. "...but really, I'll know," Heather says ominously, still reclined regally. There's a royal posturing that may or may not be intentional. "I know you'll choose on my side. Why reject getting anything and everything you could ever want? You're smarter than that." Heather smiles a little, and then starts to go vacant again, suggesting the other entity is taking its leave.

Shredder has posed:
    Shredder looks at Kitsune, and she looks back at him. Shredder looks back at Heather. "Very well," he says, unconcerned whether she has full use of her faculties yet. "We shall contact your benefactor soon," he says. He pushes the chair in that he was sitting upon.

Shadow King has posed:
Heather collapses physically, heavy with tears and sweat, onto the floor itself at the base of the chair. She's devastated. "uh huh," she mumbles into the tile.