Journal of Sociology [S!6] - [Round Two: Ryburg Ritz]

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SpoilerI'm sorry, but I'm not really

Blake found himself in some kind of abandoned laboratory or something. There were numerous test tubes filled with mysterious brightly coloured liquids, Bunsen burners left burning and discarded safety goggles tossed haphazardly and left where they fell. He gave a moment's contemplation to the events of the previous round, and to their introduction to this new arena of battle, before shrugging it off and seeking out to find some new victim to inflict psychological torture upon. He didn't get far before he, the room and indeed the entire building were suddenly atomised.

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In another dimension entirely a being known as The Incompetent was supervising the deconstruction of The Deadly Maze Mk. 1. This essentially amounted to shouting non-specific advice and encouragement to the platoon of blank-faced homunculi that The Broadcaster had provided him with. With a tirelessness only available to those who literally did not tire, the homunculi were taking The Deadly Maze (Mk. 1) apart, piece by piece. Traps were carefully disarmed and packed into a storage dimension for assessment, repair and possible reuse in The Deadly Maze Mk. 2. Everything else; which is to say, the very structure of the maze and any monsters who hadn't been lucky enough to be dumped near one of the maze's many gaps, was being methodically reduced to its component atoms and sent to one of a number of storage tanks for use in the construction of the Mk 2 Maze.

It would still be some time before The Deadly Maze Mk. 1 was fully deconstructed but good progress was being made and The Incompetent was feeling pretty pleased with himself (regardless of the fact that he had very little to do with the success of the project thus far). As if on cue there was suddenly a rather distressing beeping coming from a communicator in his pocket. It was his one remaining gentleman, who The Incompetent had reprogrammed to head out into the multiverse and seek out a whole range of rare and dangerous materials from which he would fabricate traps deadlier and even more intricate than their predecessors.

"Okay you guys carry on as you are while I get this." The Incompetent addressed the busy homunculi who were clearly not listening, and then clicked the communicator on. "What's up?"

"Anatomy." The mechanical voice of the gentleman replied. "Animal. Alive." The Incompetent had spent some time rebuilding the gentleman's corrupted vocabulary circuits but had only gotten as far as the letter B before getting bored and moving on to another project.

"No we don't need any animals at the moment." The Incompetent replied dismissively.

"Atomised." The gentleman's voice had taken on an almost imperceptible note of alarm. "Aberration."

"Hey wait, didn't I give you specific instructions to stay away from any site occupied by living things?" The Incompetent asked after a thoughtful moment.

"Affirmative." The gentleman replied. "Accident."

"Okay I guess you better come back then." The Incompetent replied wearily. He ended communications and within moments the mess of rust and exposed wiring that served as his gentleman was in front of him, carrying in his arms a human being. Or rather, a human being as assembled by someone who didn't really understand how human beings work. It made The Incompetent, who had once been human and who was still human shaped feel a little queasy. "Okay no this is incorrect." He said eventually. "Where did you get this guy from anyway?"

" " The gentleman replied.

"Oh yeah right." The Incompetent mumbled. He chewed thoughtfully on his lip for a second and then said, "Hang on a second would you?" He momentarily flickered away and returned with a laptop under one arm and a screwdriver in the other. The gentleman stood passively while The Incompetent unscrewed one of his chest panels and ran a cable from there to his laptop. From there it was just a matter of accessing the gentleman's MPS (Multiversal Positioning System) and through that determining that he had been in the city of Ryburg Ritz, where presumably he had been attempting to obtain a sample of the Vague Plague.

"It's probably fine." The Incompetent said thoughtfully. "If they were that close to a pure sample of the Vague Plague they were probably dead anyway." He paused. "Still that place ought to be abandoned..." He did a couple of searches and all of a sudden red flags were popping up. The Incompetent's heart sunk as he read them; Journal of Sociology, The Sociologist, another one of The Broadcaster's co-opted projects. There was a cast list, and after a good look at the corpse in front of him, he was forced to admit that it did bear something of a resemblance to one identified as Blake Richards.

"No it's okay." He reassured himself. "Look here on the list it says that they have a spare. I doubt that they'll even notice that this one has gone missing." His words rang hollow, even to himself, and he contemplated what would happen if The Broadcaster got wind of this mistake; he could kiss The Deadly Maze Mk. 2 goodbye for starters and who knows what else. "Okay, well, this is an easy problem to fix at least." he said, "We'll just get them another one and it'll be finer. Nobody will be any the wiser." He made a quick adjustment to the gentleman's programming, directing him to search for individuals with DNA strings matching that of Blake Richards rather than the rare materials and toxins he had been searching for (and excluding the other Blake Richards in Ryburg Ritz), and then sent him off, feeling satisfied with a job well done.

It wasn't long after that that one of the homunculi approached The Incompetent looking for his attention, who was only too eager to lend his expertise to whatever problem had arisen. They moved through the busy remains of the Deadly Maze Mk. 1 until they came to a section with an ornately carved wooden door, a couple of panes of cobwebbed glass and a sign which said 'Hixley's Antiques' were embedded into the steel walls of the maze. That in of itself was noteworthy, especially given that through the windows could be seen a room which The Incompetent knew for a fact could not fit within the dimensions of the wall, but such oddities had to be put on the backburner. In front of the shopfront there was a woman with long black hair, a gaudy orange and white suit and a gun clutched inexpertly in her hands. The homunculi had formed a rough circle around her but were keeping her distance as she nervously aimed the gun from one to another.

The Incompetent recognized her instantly. Her name was Elsbeth or something. She'd been in the second set of contestants he'd selected after he'd thought his other contestants had been killed somehow. Now that he had his first set of contestants back she was nothing more than a nuisance, a leftover loose end.

"It's okay guys I've got this." The Incompetent said dismissively as he strode past the homunculi, straight towards Elsbeth(?). "It's okay Elsbeth. There's no need for all this fuss."

"Stay back!" she yelled hysterically and quickly aimed the gun in his direction, but The Incompetent didn't even pause. He knew that she wasn't a threat to him, not even if she hadn't been holding the gun by the barrel. He smirked as he grabbed it by the handle and levered it out of her hand, but the smirk quickly faded when suddenly his hand was consumed with pain, as though a thousand needles were digging into his palm. He released his grip instinctively and the gun fell to the ground, where if he had taken the time to examine it closer he would have noticed the black thorns protruding from the handle. As it was his attention was instead drawn to his hand and the black energy flowing through his body. He looked up at the woman who had moments before appeared petrified, now she was perfectly composed and wearing a cocky smirk.

"You bitch!" The Incompetent exclaimed angrily. Despite relinquishing the gun the pain did not abate, it only intensified and advanced up his arm. He clutched it tightly in his other arm. "What did you do to me?"

"Cursed gun." she said. "And for reference the name is Liz, but you can call me Ms. Hixley."

"Fun's over." The Incompetent snapped through gritted teeth. The pain reached his chest and it was all he could do to remain standing. "Reverse this or I'll kill you. I am perfectly capable."

"Are you?" Liz asked, that cocky grin never faltering. "That curse is incredibly potent, you know. I probably couldn't reverse it even if I wanted to."

The Incompetent had had enough. He didn't need this. "Oh, just shut up." he muttered and froze her in place.

"Make me." she replied.

The Incompetent's gaze shot up in shock. It was probably just the pain making him a little unfocused, he reasoned. So he tried again, he even raised his arm towards her to direct his power just to be sure. Nothing happened. After a second Liz looked down at herself as if to make sure he hadn't done something and she just hadn't noticed.

"No? I thought not." she smiled. "Okay well, this was fun but I've got places to be. Seeya later, Mr. 'Amazing'." As she tried to walk past The Incompetent he grabbed at her blazer and held on tightly. She tried to swat him away and then pry his fingers off, but his grip was too strong. "Oh come on, this is silly. We both have more dignity than this."

"Get her." He cried. The homunculi responded immediately, with a sense of urgency hitherto unseen. Liz slammed her elbow into the first homunculus leaving a crack all down her chest, but before she could land another blow they had hold of her and she just couldn't shake them off.

"If you wanted me to stay that badly why didn't you just say so?" she asked.

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It was some time later; the Incompetent was recuperating. The pain had subsided and left behind nothing but a particularly nasty headache, however the suppression of his powers persisted. Liz had continued making snide remarks until he'd ordered the homunculi to drag her away somewhere out of earshot and actually she was probably still making snide remarks. Eventually his gentleman returned and his spirit was momentarily lifted. There had been no emergency communications from the gentleman, he really ought to have a name The Incompetent mused, so perhaps something had gone right for once. However he couldn't help but notice a distinct lack of any Blake Richards, living or dead.

"Accomplished." The gentleman said.

"Where is he then?" The Incompetent asked. "Did you deliver him straight to the battle?"

"Adverse." The gentleman said. "Attention:" Behind him materialized a number of large metal canisters, which had been designed for the containment of the atomised materials the gentleman had originally been sent to retrieve. Suddenly it occurred to The Incompetent that he hadn't changed the collection or containment protocols, only the thing which the gentleman was searching for.

"I suppose it's too much to hope that you might have missed a couple of Blake Richards?" The Incompetent muttered to himself.

"Affirmative; absolute." The gentleman replied.

The Incompetent sighed heavily. "Okay," he said, "Plan B: absolutely anybody will do." He paused for a moment and allowed himself the smallest vestige of a smile. "In fact I think I have just the person in mind."

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Due to the effects of time dilation, it was a mere minute or so after the complete atomisation of the laboratory when Elizabeth Hixley was dumped into the perfectly square crater left by its removal. The first thing she did was to press on her amulet and summon her shop to this dimension before The Incompetent took it upon himself to deconstruct it piece by piece, or worse, before he decided to take a look what she had in there. Silently it materialised in the centre of the crater just behind her. It wasn't exactly inconspicuous, but that wasn't her first concern at the moment. She turned and headed in to gather a couple of things, pausing only to tear off the note that The Incompetent had taped to her chest. It fluttered away in the breeze, to be quickly lost amongst the rain of papers falling upon the city. It had said 'sorry I lost your contestant but this other one I found is way cooler ok'

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SpoilerUsername: Ixcaliber
Name: Elizabeth Hixley
Gender: Female
Font colour: This colour?
Species: Human
Biography:
Robert sat on the edge of the pavement, his head in his hands. The woman that he loved was right now locking lips with the man who he had thought was his friend. He could not bear to think about it; the months of deceit and manipulation that had took his Dana away from him. He was ready to give up; to give up on life, love, and happiness, when from across the way there was a faint noise like a jingling of bells.

Across the street stood an old shop, the sign above the door read ‘Hixley's Antiques’. Its windows were cobwebbed and the paintwork was peeling. It was clearly a very old building only Robert was not sure that it had been there the last time that he had looked. Curiously he crossed the midnight street and peered through the grimy windows. The store was dimly lit by old oil-lamps. The shelves were stocked with many interesting items of all shapes and sizes; swords and shields, urns and vases, jamjars and gewgaws, badminton rackets and buckets and spades, stone tablets, piñatas, ornate mirrors and creepy dolls, sceptres, staffs, crowns and tiaras, all this and more.

His curiosity now more than piqued, Robert pushed open the old door, which elicited a tinkling from the bells fitted above it, and stepped inside. There was a certain otherness about the store, as if it did not belong. He gawped at the eclectic collection of items on display, moving deeper into the store until he found what appeared to be a fairly ordinary feather duster. There was nothing special about it, which made it interesting as to why his attention seemed to be drawn there.

“Made from real roc feathers you know.” A woman’s voice came from immediately behind him. Robert spun around in shock. The woman in question looked about thirty years old. She had long black hair, which she had plaited into a long ponytail going roughly halfway down her back. Perched upon her nose was a pair of thin rectangular glasses. Her eyes were a striking amber colour and her skin tan. She wore a pale orange blazer, an amaranth cravat, a plain white shirt, similar white pants and a pair of black winklepickers. She wore a large and eclectic selection of rings, causing her fingers to clack whenever she moved them. She leant upon an ornate crystal cane, the head of which was carved into the shape of a jellyfish.

“Excuse me?” Robert asked.

“The feather duster,” the woman, presumably the proprietor, replied. “It’s made from real roc feathers. Why don’t you take it?”

“I’m sorry I was just curious.” Robert replied. “I have no need of a feather duster.”

“That’s no ordinary feather duster.” The proprietor replied. “Sure you can dust with it but why would you when it’s so good at brushing away lies and uncertainty?” Robert stared at her in disbelief. “You seem like the kind of kid who could get some use out of an item like this. Take it, I insist. It’s on the house.” She took up the feather duster and pressed it into Robert’s hands.

“Th-thanks…?” He stammered.

“Take care now.” She called after him as feather duster in hand Robert scurried away into the night.

The following day the whole incident looked very silly. He carried on with his life as normal and dismissed the proprietor’s claims as ridiculous. Dana came around to collect her stuff. She did so in silence as Robert twirled the feather duster through his fingers. As much as he did not believe what the shopkeeper had said he couldn’t help but wonder… what if? What if this would wash away Adam’s lies, and let her clearly see how much she has been manipulated by that bastard? If not he’d look a little silly but he was past caring.

He strode towards his former girlfriend with the feather duster in hand and wondering exactly how this worked, dusted her. She tried to bat him away and called him some unpleasant names and then her face went curiously blank. She stood there like that for a minute as Robert retracted the magical duster.

“Dana?” he asked. “Dana, are you okay?” She looked around in confusion.

“Where am I?” she asked visibly panicking. “Who are you?”

“Dana it’s okay.” He replied quickly, grasping her shoulders firmly. “It’s me, it’s Robert. You’re at my apartment.”

“I don’t know you. What do you want?” she asked terrified. “Who is this Dana you keep talking about?”

It wasn’t long before Robert was rushing through the streets, feather duster in one hand, and Dana’s unwilling hand in the other. He dashed towards where the shop had been, full of anger and fear. The proprietor had lied to him. She’d taken Dana away from him for good. He would demand that she fix her. He came to a complete stop in front of where the shop had been, discovering only an empty space. It was as if the store had never been there at all.

Items/Abilities: Liz has two items that qualify as special. The first is her cane that she carries with her. It grants the bearer a form of eternal life (though not immortality). It is made from crystal and its head is carved into the shape of a jellyfish. The second is less obvious, a rather plain silver locket that she wears around her neck. When opened up there is a button inside. This button when pressed summons her shop to her. This locket is completely unique and any Liz’s cameoed will lack the ability to call the shop to them. When called the shop attempts to occupy the nearest empty space. If there is somewhere nearby where it will appear innocuous, i.e. a row of buildings, then it will appear there.

The shop itself is what is known as a Wandering Shop. Put simply it is a shop full of mysterious and powerful items that has the ability to hop between dimensions. Anyone who had spent any time within the shop itself would say that it seems to have a consciousness of its own. Things are never where you expect them to be and you sometimes get the impression that the shop is mocking you somehow.

A good few years ago now the control mechanism broke. While the shop can still move between dimensions if called via her locket, it can no longer be driven. Also Liz is not the original owner of this shop, meaning that she doesn’t know how it works or how to repair it, if it is even repairable.

The items in her shop vary in usefulness, some items for example designed to fill a specific niche and of no use in any other situation. Also of note is that the more powerful an item the more likely that there is some kind of downside to using it. Some items offer very little benefit and have grave curses. If you don’t know what each one does then it can be kind of a lucky dip, even Liz, more knowledgeable than most, does not know what most of the items do.

Description: Liz looks like she did in the biography, except in her early twenties instead of her thirties. (At the risk of repeating myself: long black hair in ponytail, glasses, amber eyes, tan skin, pale orange blazer, amaranth cravat, white shirt, white pants, black winklepicker shoes, a large and unusual collection of rings and ornate crystal cane the head of which is in shape of jellyfish.)

She is sort of twistedly whimsical. She loves to play with people, to give them trinkets and artefacts which will wreck their lives. Staying on the move is very important to her, and even after her shop had broken down she didn’t stay still. She travelled from town to town calling her shop after her. She is very secretive and doesn’t like anyone to know her true motives. She has a dark sense of humour that other people don’t seem to appreciate. She’s not typically violent as such, preferring to fight indirectly through misdirection and the use of artefacts.

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SpoilerFor clarity's sake Sol's Blake is absolutely fine as he was excluded from the gentleman's parameters