Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Van Leugen

Luke Daly, as played by Meliodas

“Well, I wouldn’t mind finding a deep hole on you.” Luke retorted rather sarcastically, smiling as he wandered away from Obsidian and begun sifting through some of Grayson’s crap. The first thing he did was find the bastards room. He only presumed the man must have had some sort of fetish shit hiding somewhere, whether they be pictures, or videos, or whatever else he was into – which sounded like a bit of everything.

Starting with the man’s closet, he didn’t mind tampering with evidence or disturbing any sort of crime scene as he started digging through the Grayson’s belongings, looking for anything that would catch his eye. It wasn’t so much about finding evidence as it was seeing just how much of a sick fuck the man actually was. But maybe he would get lucky and come across something of use as the other detectives honed in on any cameras that might be hidden throughout the home. Maybe Luke would run into some home videos in his little endeavor... or something else of worth that he could just slip in his pocket. After all, how else was a detective expected to make a living in this city?
 
“I wouldn’t mind going after them if it helps solve this damned case. The sooner I’m away from fuckwit the better.” Obsidian rolled her shoulders backwards, ignoring Luke’s deep hole comment. In truth, she was glad when he wandered away from her because it gave her a chance to breathe and think without feeling him near her body. Glancing at Dean when she said the NPA would take care of finding the Necromancers, Fyre arched a brow, unsure how she felt about that. Turn did bring up a good point and she found herself musing on that even as Dean wandered off. Brow arching for a second time at the mention of hidden cameras, she decided to go hunting.


“Unsettling, but might be helpful. Especially since we’re probably not going to get the truth from the Feds or from the NPA.” Shrugging a little, Obsidian moved throughout the house, studying the ceiling and molding carefully. “I know loads of feds that make deals with scum. Shouldn’t her ass be on survelliance or some shit since she let it happen on her watch?” Obsidian glanced back over at Turn, shrugging for a second time before clambering up on top of the end table after shoving it against the wall, needing to get closer to the corner of the room.
 
"In her defense," Turn began, "She was dealing with zombie mercenaries." He continued, chuckling at the idea. "I mean, they weren't rotting corpses, so I don't know if zombie is the right word. Undead?" He asked, kneeling down to grab a smashed and very bullet-riddled tablet. "I wonder if the department geeks can do something with all these holes in the hard drive."

In Grayson's closet Daly wouldn't find much at a first glance, it had already been tossed by whoever had been there before the cops could secure the scene. There was what appeared to be a hidden space in the wall, a compartment. It was something one wouldn't notice if they weren't looking for it, it had been left slightly ajar.

Inside were five stacks of money. Probably what Grayson would have used to skip town. Scribbled on the tops of each one were numbers and folded into one of the stacks was an address.

534 Buren Avenue.
 
Luke Daly, as played by Meliodas

It was only by luck that Luke was left in the room alone, and once he’d pushed Grayson’s wardrobe aside, the panel in the wall came into view. Luke had suspected that Grayson wasn’t the brightest, the man being nothing more than a walking cliché. He’d probably watched too many crime dramas on television, or picked up his antics in a book or newspaper detailing one investigation or another. Clearly, he was no criminal mastermind which would probably explain his current predicament.

With everything that Luke just discovered, it was obvious that Grayson didn’t make any attempts to skip town. Or maybe he did, which was why the compartment was left ajar. Furthermore, whoever carried out the job obviously wasn’t interested in money, and Luke was betting a closer look would make clear that nothing in the house was actually missing. Removing one of the stacks of money, he flipped through the bills before taking another look around cautiously – once he knew for sure that he was alone, he slipped the bundle into his pocket, and left the other four.

“Hey guys, I think I found something.” He hollered, inspecting the rest of the stacks where he began noticing the numbers. It wasn’t until he began shifting things around that he found a scrap of paper with an address on it. For a moment, he considered just keeping it to himself and following up on the lead with Obsidian verse telling any of the other detectives. "Grayson, Grayson, Grayson... what were you up to?" Luke said under his breath as if making a note to himself.
 
Turn was the first to arrive, Agent Dean not far behind him. "Something we can work with, I hope. I want this shit to end." Turn told Luke, "I don't know about you, but I don't like working with feds. Too much politics, not enough policing." He said, directing most of his words towards Dean.

"You Van Legend cops are something else." She retorted, "We'll get back to figuring out exactly what you are after we put Grayson's killers away."
 
Luke Daly, as played by Meliodas

What an amusing statement. Feds wanted to figure out what their department was all about. They might be corrupt, and Luke was no saint nor did he try to hide that fact, but he didn’t protect scumbags like Grayson. Not to mention that he wouldn't have let a hoard of undead mercenaries storm a house he was watching and just kill a guy. But they were the incompetent ones.

“Seems like there is an address here. If I recall, this isn’t located in the friendliest neighborhood in town, but I think this might just lead us to a safety deposit box. And considering Grayson has all of his money sitting here, I’m betting that something very interesting is just waiting for us to find."
 
Just grunting in response to Turn's comment, Obsidian kept her thoughts to herself. She felt the whole situation was incredibly fishy, but until she had proof, there was no point in rocking the boat. Her shoulders tensed up when John shouted for them to come take a look at something. Deciding to ask him later what he found, she kept her search up, studying the room closely. It wasn't long until she found what she was looking for, though she almost missed it. Her hunch about there being hidden cameras was right, but she wasn't expecting to find small microphones and wiretaps on the phone. Gathering up everything she could find, including tapes of the recorded information, she hummed, still looking around before moving into the bedroom where everyone else was gathered.

"So, we go check out the address?" Obsidian blinked, having caught the end of Luke's words. "Also, found some neat stuff that can be examined."
 
"Daly and I can check out the address. It'll be a good way to make sure the money makes it to an evidence locker." Special Agent Dean said, "I'll give you that." Detective Turn said, "That leaves Fyre and I taking this to the crime lab."

Turn said, reaching out to grab one of the tapes. Tapes were low tech. Grayson wasn't trying to leave a digital footprint. He was safe, but clearly not safe enough. He got himself kidnapped and killed, after all.

"I didn't know people still used these outside of Lutetia." Turn said, almost baffled by the tapes.
 
Last edited:
Luke Daly, as played by Meliodas

It wasn’t following the lead that bugged Luke, but the thought of having to share the scene with Special Agent Dean. God only knew what was sitting in that safety deposit box. If Grayson left money at home, it made you wonder what he considered important enough to warrant such special treatment. What could be better than money? Jewels, blackmail? There were all kinds of possibilities, all of which seemed to be good ones. Now, if only Luke could find a way to ditch the agent. Although, at the same time, there was Obsidian to worry about.

As a forethought, he quickly realized he should have kept such details to himself and confiscated more than just a stack of money. “Sounds good. Do you want to go together or… we'll just meet you there?” He was really hoping for the latter.
 
Obsidian couldn't help the growl that slid out from between her pursed lip at the implications of Agent Dean's words. She was calling them dirty when she was the bitch that let the fucker be killed. Fyre didn't care what had attacked Grayson, Dean wasn't injured at all, which means she didn't even attempt to save the fucker. Shifting her gaze from Dean and Turn, she glanced at Luke, eyes rolling before she flipped her red hair over her shoulder. "You really should watch how you phrase things. I would hate to have you investigated for being a dirty FBI agent. I don't buy your story one bit." With that, Obsidian made her way back out into the main room, hoping that Daly watched himself while with the agent.

"Let's get going then." She huffed as she made her way out of the house, inhaling deeply once outside in the fresh air. There was something about the whole situation that was bugging her, but she couldn't put her finger on it and that was pissing her off immensely.
 
They broke the cloudline without much trouble. Penetrating the atmosphere had been the tricky bit - piloted a cloaked vessel through such an intense energy field required quite a bit of finagling. If Paragon’s ship, The Equinox, had been even a bit larger, he wouldn't have made it.

Luckily, they’d gotten through it one piece. The vigilante sat in the ship’s cockpit, navigating towards the distant city skyline. The skyscrapers of Van Leugen dominated the horizon even four dozen miles away, spiking swift and clean into the midnight clouds liked poised daggers.

“The City of Liars,” Paragon grumbled, “a fitting rat hole for Kale and her ilk to hide in.” He kept his grip steady on the nav handles. “We’ll need to stay cloaked for the entirety of our stay here. That means we lay low and keep a good distance between the city limits and the ship.” A thoughtful silence. “I'll prep the bike. I doubt I'll need it, but it'll be nice to have the option. One does get tired of running around on rooftops all the time.”

He reached overheard and checked an engine diagnostic. “Are you keeping an eye on our guest?”
 
Orphic had seemed a little gloomy of late, keeping to herself and staying uncharacteristically quiet. As he navigated the atmosphere of an alien planet--a fantasy she had long nurtured as a living human being--she grumbled only in response to him. When you took into account how much effort it was for her to design the voice modules and the inflections of speech, her abilities were truly admirable.

"Yeah," came the gently sarcastic reply. "She's sitting quietly, contemplating her existence and how she's going to get out. I also suspect she doesn't like the food. You're truly a terrible chef."

Although, it had fascinated her to watch him prepare food for another being. It was a necessity--and he did it with the cold mechanics that were a signature of his--but still... To prepare food for another living being was typically associated with a level of care. Watching him do this for someone he had no empathy for whatsoever would have raised the hairs on the back of her neck, if she had any.

"Hey. So. When you ride the bike, can I like...piggy-back?"
 
“I am an excellent chef,” Paragon retorted colorlessly, “but the flavor is irrelevant. The meals I've offered her are dense with every nutritional necessity her body needs. If she wants to starve herself, that's her problem.”

A brief pause at her request. “Piggyback, huh?” If there were eyebrows beneath that mask, they were raised. “I assume you’re speaking metaphorically, unless you want me to uproot the ship’s core and strap it to my back. That would be very heavy.” He looked over and checked a log. “This is clearly another request for me to more closely involve you in field work.”
 
His taken offense to the mention of his culinary abilities amused her, but she kept it to herself.

"Yeah. Of course. You know I'd be invaluable. And we'd be the perfect team. Imagine it!" Excitement was building up in her tone. "I could be all like, 'Watch out!' and you'd spin around and get the bad guy, and we'd...well...we can't high-five... But... You know. I could...like..." Her tone trailed off. "...like...be in...an...ear piece..."

She slumped into silence then, realizing she couldn't properly help him.
 
Written by Ro and El

“Helpful you are,” he replied, “but as an earpiece, not so much.” His fingers drummed on the dashboard. “I have been considering this, just so you know. Van Leugen is a big city. Having you by my side rather than miles away in the ship would be a great benefit to me.” He stood up. “Set it to autopilot, please.”

The vigilante walked from the cockpit to the lounge to the workshop. “You might have seen me tinkering with this over the last few days.” He picked up a circular device, fitted with several custom modifications and additive hardware. “This is a modified hardlight generator. Aschen tech. The imperials are crazy about it.” He flicked two buttons, a semicircle of bright orange light blooming around the device. “This stuff is advance. Tough as steel when programmed to hold.” He tapped it, his fingers thunking against the half dome. “Or, if you want to play with it…” He pushed another button, and the light softened. Paragon began molding it like clay, making what looked like a five year old’s rendition of a Christmas tree. “Ah. That's supposed to be a pine. You get the idea.”

He set it down. “Theoretically, you could do anything with it. Make any shapes you want. A body, even. Wouldn't feel anything like human skin, but it would look as real as flesh and blood.”

"Gimme!" she immediately demanded. Were she able, she would be bouncing in her seat, smiling like an idiot.

"How do I connect?!"

Reaching over to the workbench, Paragon connected one of the ship’s neural links to the generator, allowing Orphic to interact with it. He stepped back. “Easy, easy now. It takes me days just to program a single face for my disguises. Don't think you’re going to-”
 
The moment she was given the chance, she interfaced with the neural links and used her social media profiles to throw up her images. In moments, a slender, pale girl of possibly nineteen years old projected in her tattered Slipknot shirt and her black JNCOs. The ball twisted, and the hazel eyes of the projected woman went with it. She jumped up and down in excitement, clapping her hands.

...the amount of programming that must have gone into all of that must be insane.

"Can I go with you?!"
 
Paragon was silent for a good seven seconds. It was unclear if he was shocked at the speed with which Orphic had mastered the device or simply surprised at the form she'd chosen to assume. Perhaps a bit of both.

“You can come with me-” he held up a hand, quickly silencing any squeals of joy, “-conditionally, do you understand? That generator llinks up to this neural interface.” He hefted a particularly heavy-looking modem. “Which I cannot fit on my belt. It'll go beside the generator and should stay hidden beneath whatever form you choose to assume. This way I can still communicate with the ship through you.”

His hand became a stern finger. “But let me be perfectly clear. You are not a combatant. You are not a warrior. You are my support. Under no circumstances are you to put yourself into any sort of danger. Is that understood?”
 
Somewhere in Van Leugen
IIA Safehouse

"This thrice damned Thalaron device is going to be the end of me." Marlene grunted, while tweaking the power core of her amulet. "I can't seem to calibrate the tertiary em band properly for maximum radiation dispersion." She complained, bringing her attention up and away from the device, and onto Tidus Khaine, the Adept turned IIA Enforcer that she had come to rely on.

The IIA Team in Van Leugen was a ragtag bunch, with Marlene Angel at the helm, and Kathryn Connors as her second in command, Tidus Khaine, Michael Samuelle, and a few others made up the bulk of the team, and they were all sequestered within a safe-house in the confines of the city.

Sufficiently bribed, the local precinct turned a blind eye to the strange operations going on at the safe-house, but the otherwise serene calm was suddenly interrupted by a deafening bang on the door.

Marlene took point, silently gesturing for Khaine to man the heavy magnetron, and for Michael to cover her from the rear.

She popped the door only slightly; it was John Bishop.

"I've got a unique opportunity for some extra cash, courtesy of a mutual friend..." Bishop said with a gruff voice, his traditional skull mask exchanged for a simple expressionless leather mask.

Sliding a thick file through the door, Marlene made a face, and slowly grasped the file, opening it up. "The frak is the Paragon?" She asked, looking up.

"Some prick in a suit who thinks he's something, thirty billion cubits; dead or alive." Bishop grunted.

Impressed, Marlene took the file folder. "I'm not compromising my op for this." She said, snapping it shut. "I've heard whispers about a vigilante operating in this city, but I've kept a low profile, I've got priorities you know." She rebuked, and Bishop grunted a low gruff grunt.

"He's liable to find out, and try and thwart your op sooner, rather than later; I've enclosed a list, and schematics of all possible technologies he's likely using. You take him out, we all get paid, and it'll be that much easier for you to nuke this city." Bishop said.

"We'll be in touch, Marlene."

A split second later, Bishop vanished, and Marlene looked down at the file folder again, and frowned. "Waste of frakking cubits..." She grumbled.

"Michael! We need to call mouse! I'm going idiot-hunting." She shouted, slamming the door shut as she turned away.
 
"Oh my god, yes!"

She was still bouncing and clapping even as he held up a parental finger.

"Aaaabsolutely, yes. Just Batman's Robin. Got it. Totally."

And for the next few seconds, he could only hear the old-school theme song for the Batman animated series featuring Adam West.
 
Paragon groaned. “Don't ever play that song again, thank you.” He made his way back to the cockpit. “Consider the next few days a field test, alright? If you listen to my orders and do as you're told, then I'll consider making this a permanent thing.” He resumed his seat in front of the nav controls. “But don't think I won't hesitate to revoke your hardlight privileges. This is important work we’re doing, Orphic. Lives are on the line. I don't need to tell you how even the smallest mistake can reap enormous consequences.”

He brooded for a moment, quite content in his grumpiness, before reaching over and accessing the ship’s stereo. “...wrong song for Van Leugen, anyhow. It's an old city. Need an old song.” He began flipping through the vast library of music Orphic had loaded into the ship’s system. “Don't you have any Cash on here?”
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top