Sonnambula

Gods, Angels and Demons in New Haven

Montag didn't hesitate, simply giving the guard a breath of approval and a nod to acknowledge his words before entering through the door.

However, no sooner had he stepped past the doorframe, a figure literally coated in mystery passed hastily by suddenly. It was so sudden and unexpected, in fact, that the stoic Montag let out a small, but surprised grunt of exclamation as they momentarily locked eyes before the tattooed man swept past him completely. Montag spared him a quick look back, his mind racing even as the man simply glided through the yard and into the crowd, where even his distinctive figure was lost to a sea of the wealthy. A shiver ran up the young man's spin as he recounted the man's expression. He froze in place, eyes glazed over as he was consumed by thought.

Who was he? Why did he have that tattoo? What did it represent? How could he pass all these people while staying practically unacknowledged? Why was he-

"Excuse me!" A young female voice broke Montag out of his concentration as its owner whipped past his side, almost knocking into him. She walked with purpose but still as though she was panicked, as if she was rushing herself. And it wasn't long until the detective found another waitress practically barging past him again, with the same demeanour as the first. He stepped to the side to gather his bearings as the literal and metaphorical heat of the kitchen became more apparent to him. It was an intense atmosphere to be sure, and it definitely hindered his ability to hear what was going on outside past the gates with Abigail, Thomas Arnault's voice becoming nothing more than an incoherent drone in the background. In here, orders, food and people were being flung around in an equally chaotic fashion.

That chaos gave him a thought, one that made his stomach turn in panic and anxiety. That man. What had he been here for? Or rather, who had he been here for?

"Shit..." Eduard muttered, his legs already in motion before he'd fully thought of a plan. His intuition pointed him in a certain direction though, and to him that was at least better than nothing. He walked casually but at an above-average pace through the tight spaces of the blaring room, weaving in between servers rushing to push out orders as quickly as possible and busy cooks at their workstations. One such workstation was unmanned though, seemingly being used to as an area to lay out main courses, with dozens of immaculate and near-identical steak dishes placed with absolute care. However, despite all that care, all it took from Montag was one calculated swipe of his hand, and he had one.

He carried it with purpose as though he was going to carry it straight out to the yard to offer it to the first aristocrat he laid eyes on. But he didn't go to the yard. On the contrary, he made his way to the room that had its entrance closest to the workstation. If he was lucky, it wouldn't be occupied. If he was luckier, it would have a staircase upstairs. If he was extremely lucky, it would be both. For now though, he took a deep breath and stepped through, leaving the epicentre of the hustle and bustle. He could see why a place like this had a high turnover of workers now.

Gods, Angels and Demons in New Haven

Eduard knew the kind of reaction he was probably going to get from cynical, working class young adults like the ones he'd been talking to. That's why he wasn't too surprised when most of the response he received from them was teasing and jaded comments, with a fairly aggressive exchange of the waistcoat from the taller one. He just kept a blank face the whole time, not really reacting to anything they did or said, pretty disinterested and apathetic himself to their less than savoury replies. He just passed them the cigarette carton in return before they wandered off, before he quickly slipped on the waistcoat. It was a little big, but not noticeably so, and the undercover detective swiftly buttoned it up and was soon on his way as well. The next issue was getting in.

Despite Montag's now-complete uniform, the amount of security and staff personnel surrounding the backyard entrance, with which he hoped to enter the villa from, meant that he probably wasn't going to go in there without heads being turned and questions being asked. And, even if he had means to, he had a feeling the men there weren't going to be tempted like the two waiters had. For the pay they would probably get, they weren't going relax for just a few cigarettes. And so, he'd play the long game.

It wasn't his ideal plan, but Eduard wasn't in the mood to take risks at the moment. Too much was at stake, supposedly at least. Walking with purpose, he strode over to the table hosting the evening's refreshments for the waiters to offer around: chilled bottles of champagne, compact and portable beer taps and large, clean platters with decadent canapes arranged decoratively on them. Sighing inwardly, the young man expertly lifted a platter of devilled eggs and turned towards the heart of the party, jazz still blaring in the background. He'd done this sort of thing before, so he felt comfortable knowing he at least looked the part as he wandered around, following snapping fingers to their beck and call while not saying a word. The first rule of these things was to always be barely seen and not heard, mingling upper-class men didn't want to have their conversations interrupted or bogged down by a common tongue.

The other thing about upper-class men was that, in most cases, their stomachs were deeper than their pockets, and so Montag soon found himself with an empty plate not too long after he'd started. But even so, the dark-haired detective knew his finite amount of time was running shorter with every wasted moment, meaning there was no hesitation before he slipped back out of the crowd as unnoticed as he'd entered it and approached the backyard entrance once again.

A group of three security guards stood around the entrance, eyes scanning for potential trouble like hawks searching for prey, when their collective vision honed in on the approaching waiter. It seemed as though the other staff had dispersed around the grounds, some still around in the backyard chatting amongst themselves, while others had probably entered the villa itself. Eduard didn't let those thoughts affect his performance though, and he kept up appearances as he got closer to the human security barriers blocking his way in.

"Evening gentleman. I've got an empty plate to return to the kitchen, mind if I pass?" Montag was aware of the various possibilities of how things could go wrong, but he tried his best to focus on the matter at hand. After all, he thought as he awaited the response of the three men that stood before him, there were other options for him to take, even if they probably weren't as neat and tidy as this one. And the detective knew, probably better than anyone present that evening, that trouble would follow him, wherever he went.

Tower of Fable

Though his concentration was mostly fixated on what was ahead, as he retraced his steps through nearly-identical hallways and staircases, Thomas was still aware of the presence of his comrades behind him. He couldn't quite tell how many were following along, but the staggered footfalls, along with a strange squeaky grinding noise like a blade digging into a slippery surface, indicated at least a couple of them.

Upon reaching the throne room though, the dark-haired boy stopped dead in his tracks, standing dumbfounded at its open entrance. There was just so much to take in. A humongous snake, much the same as the one he'd fought before, only bigger, bared its fangs and hissed in Thomas' general direction as it noticed his being there. Its focus was quickly shifted back to the other fighters in the chamber though, some of whom the young man recognised and some of whom he did not. There was Kanbaru diligently fighting back against the beast basically single-handedly, and he just caught a glimpse of Akiko as she disappeared up above, assumedly to also fight back against the dark serpent. A new girl in witch attire was seemingly assisting as well, aided by an actual flying broomstick and a sniper rifle. Finally, he spotted another new girl with noticeably fang-like teeth sitting on the throne itself and holding her head, as though she were in pain. At once, the wolf man's words from before rang again in his head, as Thomas also noticed the lady's ears. Whether fake or not, those bunny ears probably meant that this was the mistress of the manor.

He didn't have time to notice Ami and Riku at that moment, as his attention from scanning the room was drawn away by two things. First, was the realisation that those battling the snake seemed to be floating. And secondly, was the subsequent realisation that he was being drawn off the ground himself, his body feeling lighter all of a sudden. Was this the doing of someone in the room, or some proximity effect of the snake? His heart began to beat fast as his mind became slightly overwhelmed with everything going on around him. In fact, Thomas barely registered Kanbaru addressing him when she shouted over to him for assistance.

"R-right!" He confirmed back to her nervously, still a little bit confused as to what the hell was going on and who half these people were, let alone having to deal with the prospect of fighting whatever the hell this monster was. By the time he'd summoned his glaive and begun to try and propel himself in the air to help though, Kanbaru had already launched herself towards their foe, fit with a new weapon and item of clothing thanks to the card she'd just acquired.

And then, just like that, she was gone. Swallowed whole by the beast. Thomas suddenly froze, in utter disbelief of what had just happened. Before he could cry out to his eaten ally though, as welling emotions within him suggested he would, something even more bewildering happened. Bolts of electricity shot out from within the snake itself, the great serpent seemingly more confused than Thomas was himself as the boy shielded against the lightning with his weapon. As seconds went by the snake glowed brighter and brighter until it became a blinding light in the room. Thomas looked away and squeezed his eyes shut, the last thing he saw being a shadowy figure lifting Victoire from her throne and carrying her away from danger.

The next thing the boy knew, there was a resonant bang followed by the squelching of flesh hitting the walls and floor. Barely after he'd registered the noises, Thomas felt himself hit the ground. Luckily he'd only had to fall a short distance, but he still gave himself a moment before opening his eyes and getting back up. At once he noticed Kanbaru, standing in triumph around large chunks of what had formerly been the snake as flesh turned to masses of small slithering shadows, in a similar manner to the other snake from before.

Recognising that Kanbaru was probably fine though, Thomas began to make a run for it in the direction that he'd seen the dark figure sneak away with Victoire in, his curiosity and intrigue pushing him forward. They didn't for long though. The violet-eyed boy made it only a couple of metres before he collapsed back onto the ground, lying back on his elbows and panting. His body wasn't used to anything like the physical activity he'd undergone in the past 15 minutes or so, and the near-constant running and the few fights he'd been in had almost completely worn him out at this point.

Of course though, it was at this point that he noticed the other two in the room, with Ami standing near a mangled pile of red on the floor. Thomas gasped inwardly when he realised exactly what that pile was however, once he'd looked at it well enough, his eyes wide and slightly gaping mouth quivering. It was a corpse of a girl, battered and crumpled on the ground with blood spilling out from beneath her, and darkening the shade of her already mostly red attire.

"Why...? Who... who is tha- was that?" Thomas questioned to no one in particular, utterly shocked by what he was seeing. Though he was no stranger to death himself, it was the first time he'd seen a corpse, and let alone one as fresh and in a state like this. Especially when she seemed no less human than the others in the room, including himself. He was freaked out.

Gods, Angels and Demons in New Haven

kicks lightcomposer off a cliff

This is my domain now. My thread. Muahahhaa.

@ShadowSunRisen

Boos and throws lasagne at the new leader.

Gods, Angels and Demons in New Haven

It had been easy enough for Eduard to settle into the setting of the backyard of the villa while everyone was distracted, but now he faced a new challenge: the villa itself.

His guesswork with the uniform of the servers had paid off, showing his experience, but it wasn't perfect, as he noticed upon setting eyes on the two waiters smoking against a wall. There was always some extra accessory or item of clothing with the especially high-profile parties and events that would be exclusive to itself. A subtle way for the organiser to really show off how much cash they were willing to throw around on seemingly unimportant things. In this case, the adornment in question was a black waistcoat with thin, grey vertical stripes running through it. It was distinct and unique, and Montag knew that if he wanted any chance of getting into the villa itself, or any chance of not being thrown out by security if they bothered to give him a second look, he needed to get it. The servers were a fair distance away from any security or the snapping fingers of attendees, so there was little chance for interruption, at least for now while the gala was only just getting on its feet.

He made his way over hastily, though still acting as casual as he could, taking time to note the scenery and structure of the backyard, especially the stone wall which had vines sprouting from it like tentacles. They could possibly take his weight, but he decided he'd save them in case of an emergency. If things did get chaotic, he knew he'd had an easy way between this outside area and the villa itself. His mind briefly returned to the weapon concealed against his leg, and it was at that moment that the gates behind him closed. He felt his heart sink ever so slightly for a moment, but he didn't show it, still wearing the po-face that he usually kept as he got closer and closer to the uniformed workers, jazz music blaring to drown out the echoed clangs of the gate and the conflict on the other side of them. At least for now it seemed as though the first stage of his and Abigail's plan had worked.

"Evening." He addressed his 'co-workers' with a small nod, slowing down as he stood at their side against the wall. Now close to them he could see that one of them was abnormally tall, probably just above the 2 metre mark, but the other, standing right next to him, seemed about his height. Perfect. He exhaled deeply before turning slightly to the man, who seemed about his age, perhaps a little older.

"Hey, I'm filling in for my friend tonight who's sick, but he didn't give me an idea of what the dress code would be like so I had to play the guessing game." Speaking in a more casual tone than he usually would, Eduard turned his uncut pocket towards the one he was trying to bribe, the unopened pack of cigarettes shown to him in full view, though still in a subtle manner. The dark-haired investigator wasn't thrilled with the prospect of just giving away the carton just like that, but he probably wouldn't have much time to smoke at this point anyway, and this was the main purpose he'd brought them for anyway. "I really want to make a good impression on Mr. Arnault so he might offer me a job. My uncle works for him, y'see. So could I borrow your waistcoat? Just for this evening. I'll make it worth your while." Montag gestured with his eyes down to the packet of cigarettes to emphasise his point, before looking back up at the man. At this point, his response was crucial. If this guy was a stickler for rules, or worse an asshole, then the whole plan and Marie's life would be thrown into jeopardy. The bold, virtuosic tooting of a trumpet solo drained out of his ears like water down a drainpipe as he waited intently for the determining response.

Tower of Fable

As Thomas waited for his teammates to decide among themselves what was what, he could slowly feel himself growing more and more impatient. It was an unusual feeling for him. His mostly docile nature meant that he was usually more than happy to wait for others to make the decisions and then follow them, but there was this burning feeling from within that he couldn't shake off. In fact, part of him felt as though that feeling were almost bordering on anger. And, as much as he wanted to wait for his teammates to officially decide what they'd do next, in his mind the only logical option was to go back up towards Victoire's chambers, whether his teammates agreed or not.

An especially large crash from above that was audible to everyone in the theatre cemented the elimination of any hesitation Thomas had left. He began to pace back towards the destructed entrance from which he'd entered with real purpose in his step.

"Uh, it's sounding pretty intense up there, so I'll run on ahead. You guys can follow if you want, or stay here, I don't..." The boy trailed off towards the end of his sentence, not even finishing what he was going to say, his concentration having moved to retracing his steps from earlier with Caprice. It was clear to the others in the theatre that his mind was elsewhere, and Thomas himself probably wouldn't notice if any of his teammates decided to follow behind him as he broke out into a run. He hadn't even noticed that his glaive had disappeared, and dematerialised back to wherever it had come from, waiting to be summoned again when Thomas needed it. All that was in his mind was what was ahead: the somewhat familiar maze of corridors and stairways that would lead him to the remainder of his teammates, and whatever dark force or otherwise that they were fighting in those chambers.

Gods, Angels and Demons in New Haven

Eduard was pleasantly surprised with the execution of Abigail's plan as he arrived at the site of the villa. Though he'd agreed to go along with it, deep down he hadn't been fully convinced that it would work it, and he'd had a feeling Abigail felt similarly. With how well it looked to be going though, Montag's part of the plan was made much simpler.

He came in a formal white shirt, buttoned up to the collar and accompanied by a black bow tie, and his sleeves were neatly rolled up to his elbows. Along with that, he wore black trousers, held in place by a black belt, and similarly coloured shoes, which looked as though they'd been meticulously polished. Of course he wasn't wearing these clothes to pass off as a guest, he had neither the demeanour nor the type of wit to pull that off, but instead to pose as a waiter. He'd been to these kinds of events a few times in the past, and knew that practically all, if not all, waiters wore what he was currently wearing, or at least some kind of variation on it. But, in a way, that would be more effective for the operation than disguising as a guest. No one there was likely to make any kind of conversation with a simple server, meaning he could focus on Marie while moving around and keeping an eye and an ear on the other guests.

Montag approached the stage that had been set for him, a confused crowd of the affluent, not-so affluent and those who were trying to maintain the balance. Ironically in this situation, with them all blending in together, for once it seemed as though they were all similar, just ordinary people. He kept his hands in his pockets as he got closer. He kept his lighter and a fresh pack of cigarettes in one pocket, but the other pocket concealed something very different. In fact, the pocket itself had been carved out quite precisely, presumably with a sharp knife of some kind, essentially making the pocket merge with inside of his right trouser leg. There, holstered to his thigh, was a semi-automatic pistol, fully loaded.

The holster had been strapped to his leg almost painfully tight so as not to reveal its shape or the shape of the gun it contained, both items pulled as far in and away from his trouser leg as possible. It would take some caution to make sure no one would notice, but it was a necessary risk. Mary's words from the previous evening played again in his mind: "...If you succeed in preventing Marie's impending death. Then someone else will have to die in Marie's place. You can choose who will be, by simply killing them. Or let the Fates decide. Don't be upset at what the Fates will choose, if you choose not to kill."

Whether it be out of defence or necessity, if Montag had to kill someone tonight then he would. He hadn't mentioned the gun to Abigail though. Some people make fuss whenever guns are involved, and he wasn't going to take a chance dealing with that kind of disagreement.

Now, however, he had to focus on getting into the villa in the first place. He kept out of eyeshot of the angrily protesting mob that Abigail had amassed, wanting to avoid getting called out, or worse, dragged in. Not only that, but he avoided the line of sight of the police that opposed that mob, a blob in their peripheral vision. Even though his time in the police was behind him, he certainly didn't want to risk being recognised, especially by one of the long list of people from there that disliked him.

Luckily for him, there was a fairly large group of guests about to enter through the main gates all at once, and it wasn't difficult for him to weave through them practically unnoticed, especially with the surrounding chaos and the desperation of the security to let in the rest of the guests so all risk of some kind of uprising could be quashed.

He hastily made his way through an array of inquisitive, panicked and shocked half-whispers, never really hearing a full sentence as he passed by, almost totally ignored. He simply muttered unheard formalities, "Apologies...", and, "Excuse me..." and similar expressions while he slipped past those ahead of him.

Once he was just behind the people at the front of the wealthy procession though, he slowed down to match the pace of those around him. He figured there was probably a side entrance for waiters to enter from somewhere, but with only the photo and what he could see within the crowd as a reference he decided it was best to stay mixed in until they were all inside, at which point he could sidle off and blend in with the other servers of the evening. Besides, going off separately to find another entrance at this point would draw too much attention to himself.

With the kerfuffle continuing on behind him though, Montag couldn't help but think about the possibility of Abigail losing control of the mob, and the repercussions of that occurring. If she had such an influence on these people though, he put his faith in her to keep any chance of a proper riot at bay. Hopefully they hadn't shot themselves in the foot with this.

Tower of Fable

It took Thomas a few moments of blank staring at the spinning pizza gliding towards before he realised exactly what it was. As soon as he discerned the object his eyes widened a little in surprise, reacting as most probably would if a frisbee-pizza was just sent hurtling at them. His instinct at first was to duck, but he had enough time to realise that probably wasn't such a good idea. The five second rule probably didn't apply in a place that had just been infested with weird shadow-snake creatures. What he didn't have enough time for though, was to actually prepare to catch the pizza. It sailed right past him, and instantly a panicked expression took over his face. He spun around, about to make a dive to try and save it, only to see that there was nothing to worry about.

Rose, who had evidently appeared behind him while he was distracted, had caught the pizza and was now holding it out towards the injured thief on the ground. He exhaled deeply, relieved that someone had made up for his screw up, and that seemingly no one had noticed that he'd screwed up anyway in the first place.

He simply watched on while Leyna took a slice of the pizza, though was slightly confused when she began to eat it herself. He took a slice for himself as well, idly chewing on it. The effects of it on his body seemed pretty immediate, and he was pleasantly surprised when he began to feel his aching muscles, strained from all the squeezing earlier, began to relax, the pain simply simmering away. That being said, he almost choked on slice of pizza as he was completely caught off guard by Leyna's "old elven trick", promptly turning around while his face went a flustered red. He waited, awkwardly trying to stifle coughs that came from the pizza going down the wrong way, until he heard Leyna speak again, turning back around in time for her to address him.

"W-well, thanks a lot for your help." Thomas said, still nervously stumbling on his words a little bit while he finished his pizza. He smiled a little at Clair as she stood up, happy that whatever that Leyna had done had clearly worked. "But you don't need to stick around. I think we'll probably be fine one our own now." He nodded to the elf girl, a little unsure if he had to do anything in order to un-summon her. But Clair seemed well enough now either way, so he simply looked between his teammates in the room to see what decision would be made.

Tower of Fable

Left in utter bewilderment, and also to let his screaming muscles relax after having been so painfully constricted, Thomas laid down on the ground for a few more seconds after the snakes that had wrapped around him were dispatched so easily. He inspected the Serei card in his hand again, almost amazed that it had actually worked. He was quickly aware, though, that maybe Leyna had taken care of the streams of darkness maybe too easily, as he was met with a question and a curious look from the elf. He began to panic a little. After all, it probably wasn't a great first impression if he'd seemingly summoned this warrior for no warranted reason. And Cait? Where'd he heard that name before...?

Stalling for time to try and quickly come up with something, the boy sat up and reached out to take back his glaive from the ground. That's when he noticed Clair, who unlike the others was still laid down on the ground. He couldn't really tell from this distance but she looked injured, barely moving an inch even after all the snakes had gone. All of a sudden Thomas was up on his feet, pointing towards Clair's sickly form. He started to hastily guide Leyna towards her, a pinch of anxiety in his voice as he spoke. But perhaps she could help somehow?

"Well, there were some weird dark snakes, though I think they've all gone now... But I think my friend is hurt, is there something you can do to help her?" As they approached closer to the fallen thief, it became evident that she was, indeed, not in the best of conditions. In fact, it looked as though one of the snakes had bitten her, clear fang-marks blemishing her neck. He also took a moment to scan around the theatre with his eyes from where he stood, looking to check for his other teammates, and possibly any stragglers that hadn't yet slithered away.

Gods, Angels and Demons in New Haven

"Alright. And don't bother with the mister part. Just Montag is fine." The dark-haired detective returned Abigail's nod to signal her farewell, promptly leaving the bar afterwards.

The night sky tonight was fairly crowded, with an ensemble of stars and a half-full moon picturesquely hung so high above the world. It felt almost comfortable to look at. But, though it was nice to have their illumination on a dusky evening like this, it was hardly needed. Street lights stood like sentries along each road and pavement, with some emitting an almost piercing light, others producing only a faint glow, but many were somewhere in between on that scale. Many streets were still completely packed and would be for hours, with merry rabble and burning romanticism heard and seen in equal measure in every establishment you passed. Some streets were desolate, with only the occasional couple passing through after a dinner date, eager to get back to their home to let their evening really begin. Eduard didn't bother to look through into the branching alleyways though, nor did he want to. Where there was no light, there was no law. Thinking about it, it was curious how someone could get used to this atmosphere. How this much life could draw out this much apathy. But Montag knew couldn't change how he felt, at least not now. And he was sure he wasn't alone in that sentiment, some people just hid it better.

"Ah, hello! Mr. Montag, my friend!" A familiar, boisterous voice called out from within the building he was currently walking past. Its volume, though faded, was easily audible through the large window that made up most of the front of the ground floor belonging to the relatively small, terraced building. Montag looked up, surprised to see that he'd been so deep in thought that he'd almost completely missed the place he'd set out to go to, especially when it was so familiar to him. A small bell hung on the front door chimed as he entered and passed by the staircase to his immediate right, instead carrying on past the reception desk to the somewhat portly Turk working diligently at his own desk, masses of paper and documents spread about him. At the moment though, he was simply looking to the detective with a beaming, bearded face.

"Evening Deniz. Just you tonight?" Montag stopped next to Deniz's desk, craning his head around to catch a few squinted glimpses at any interesting news that would be printed the following morning.

"Just me, Monty. Most of the other night-workers are off sick. Some nasty bug. Don't know how it didn't get to me. Must be all this Ayran, eh?! Ahahahaha!" Deniz slapped his belly and threw back his head, his curly black hair bouncing a bit as he belted out some unsurprisingly loud laughter. Montag couldn't help but smile just a little bit, waiting for his now red-faced friend to calm himself down and continue talking. "Ahh, anyway... Tonight's been busy for me, so I wasn't able to bring the usual, my friend. I'll get the next two days off for this, but next time I see you I'll bring the kebab along with some extra sujuk as well for you to enjoy!"

"No worries Deniz, I'm not hungry tonight anyway, but thanks. I can't stay and chat though, I've got work to do as well." Eduard began to step away from the desk, taking a moment to take off his coat as he spoke. "Oh, and by the way, a red-haired woman will probably pass through in the next couple of hours. Make sure that she doesn't go into the wrong building and point her to my office."

"Ah, another client?" Deniz inquired casually, bowing his head down again as he started to focus back on his work.

"Yeah... Well... Not exactly." Montag spoke, giving a slightly indecisive answer as he approached the staircase leading to his office on the top floor. Mind you, how exactly was he supposed to refer to her without giving away his activities of the evening?

"Ahh, I see how this is. Detective Montag strikes again, ah? Another case, another lady sedu-" Deniz was cut off suddenly, but not too surprisingly, by the loud slam of a door as Montag dismissed the teasing in the clearest non-verbal way possible. Deniz paused for a moment, before chuckling to himself again quietly as he got back to work.