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Yesterday, this was an ordinary twenty-first century city. Today it's a war zone, tomorrow it'll be walled off and abandoned.
A few collapsed buildings, shattered streets, and assorted craters. The place is mostly empty, with scattered groups of mostly humanoid monsters roaming and trying to escape the guarded fence around the city. The most instantly noticeable change is an ongoing wordless singing in the back of the mind of anyone present. By itself it's just a sound. An unpleasant sound, and almost but not quite predictable as if someone were trying to attack the listener's sanity without saying anything, but possible to ignore. But along with it, any time a listener closes their eyes they get flashes of memories. Not their worst memories, but whatever negative ones can stick with them unforgettably. It builds up associations between the feelings in those images and almost anything else. Sometimes there's a recognizable common thread and other times there isn't.
An angel fights off teams of opponents. She's fifteen feet tall, extremely winged, with more wings than is strictly necessary for an angel. Even some of her wings have wings. All of them are asymmetric and varyingly sized. A spherical halo of weaponry surrounds her, firing at her more distant enemies from across the battlefield. Her opponents cycle in and out: a golden man, a man surrounded by a bubble, a woman in a dark costume, all flying. Others make certain to stay away after taking their turn, on rare occasions spending too long hearing the angel's music. Those ones voluntarily self-destruct.
A small group of ordinary humans takes refuge in a house as far from the battle as they can reach. The song is quieter here, and, they hope, less potent. Some of them run away from and back to the house, occasionally calling for help. They haven't found any.
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whole_new_can
ertia
Okay, so they aren't just traveling in a wad of dark, they are having a fight. She feels many fewer qualms about sending capes and monstercreatures all to sleep and notifying the local PRT.
wormcan
The local PRT is perfectly happy to collect them. The Undersiders have been excessively slippery so far, and their opponent was more of the unstoppably powerful variety. It would be a very good idea if she didn't wake up until thoroughly contained; how long does this last?
ertia
She can turn it into a curse that'll last until somebody prods them with a particular doohickey, if that's particularly called for?
wormcan
For her, it's nearly as called for as it ever gets.
PRT personnel are on their way in either case.
PRT personnel are on their way in either case.
ertia
Kithabel leaves the asleep capes and a curse-lifting doohickey that can only be picked up by people in PRT uniform and then departs.
wormcan
The PRT usually prefers it when capes stick around to describe everything in detail, but they got the most important information and this isn't exactly unusual.
wormcan
After a short while, she may find herself interrupted mid-stuff. A high-pitched screech rings out, and a canine almost as big as the monster Grue was riding leaps at her.
Someone shouts "she didn't fall? Inconceivable!" before being drowned out by an assortment of other powers and, of course, bullets.
Someone shouts "she didn't fall? Inconceivable!" before being drowned out by an assortment of other powers and, of course, bullets.
ertia
Oh goddammit.
Now she's insubstantial and the guns stop working in case there's anybody substantial. Sleep sleep sleep -
Now she's insubstantial and the guns stop working in case there's anybody substantial. Sleep sleep sleep -
wormcan
Everyone she puts to sleep goes to sleep, but not all of her attackers are obvious at first.
Something jerks her downward, which affects her despite her intangibility, straight toward a mess of translucent blades, which don't. Everyone she knocked out stirs, and many of them get back up. The scream starts again, and again nothing happens.
Something jerks her downward, which affects her despite her intangibility, straight toward a mess of translucent blades, which don't. Everyone she knocked out stirs, and many of them get back up. The scream starts again, and again nothing happens.
ertia
She puts the sleeping people to sleep harder. What might be stopping her from seeing other people - invisibility, walls - she focuses on her eyes while fighting the pull towards the blades just for the sake of it.
wormcan
Walls was it. There they are. More of the edged force fields appear, some of them behind her this time, and the pull abruptly stops. If she reflexively flies upward into them, it'd be more like through them.
This time people stay asleep. The remaining conscious capes fill the area with everything they've got—force fields, snow, whatever form of telekinesis that was, and so on, and yep that one's blood—and one of them starts trying to pull the dog monster away from Kithabel.
This time people stay asleep. The remaining conscious capes fill the area with everything they've got—force fields, snow, whatever form of telekinesis that was, and so on, and yep that one's blood—and one of them starts trying to pull the dog monster away from Kithabel.
ertia
The dog monster can be stuck very firmly in midair. The blood can stop existing. The snow can get turned into a scale model ice sculpture of Brockton Bay. The force fields aren't troubling her, but everybody can go to sleep now.
ertia
Good. If that doesn't clear away the force fields, she'll do it herself. And then she notifies the PRT. Again.
wormcan
Director Piggot is much less bothered by repetition than Kithabel is. Especially under the circumstances.
"The Teeth attacked you? I was expecting them to try a rescue. How many?"
"The Teeth attacked you? I was expecting them to try a rescue. How many?"
ertia
"Total of eighteen people, fiveish capes or maybe fewer if one of them was doing two different things."
wormcan
"There are others, then. They're unlikely to attack you after this, and if they do none of them is particularly resistant to being put to sleep, but it might be a good idea to stay intangible as long as you're here."
ertia
And Kithabel goes back to what she was doing. Insubstantially. It's not the most comfortable, but it's all right.
whole_new_can
Insubstantial or undetectable or otherwise safe, is all it would take. And without the Butcher the Teeth are already much less of a threat than they could be.
It's after a day of stuff-doing that Kithabel, while sufficiently noticeable, gets approached by four other capes. One in purple, one in armor, one covered in insects, and one translucent. "Interested in a trade?" the first one asks.
It's after a day of stuff-doing that Kithabel, while sufficiently noticeable, gets approached by four other capes. One in purple, one in armor, one covered in insects, and one translucent. "Interested in a trade?" the first one asks.
whole_new_can
"I'm offering information. A little detail that you'd definitely want to know. You know how you're from another world and anyone who matters has already figured it out? More important than that."
At that comment, the figure in the welder's mask spins her head toward the speaker, who smirks.
At that comment, the figure in the welder's mask spins her head toward the speaker, who smirks.