Masks 2

Emily was no longer there, having disappeared into the ground at some point. Instead, the tall, honey-haired, blue eyed woman from the stage had taken her place.

"All right," she said, pouring Finn a drink. "You okay?"

"Nae." She shakes her head. "Not even a little. Make it a stronger one, aye? Need. Need somethin' worse."

"Why?" Adrasteia asked her, sliding the drink forward.

"World's shite, nae got anythin' tae believe in, an' the heroes I've spent my whole damn't life worshippin' are squabblin', hopeless, an' unhappy. Next question?"

"Sounds pretty bad," Adrasteia agreed. "But this might not be the healthiest way to handle it."

"Aye, maybe not. Can't say I give half a damn, though, bein' honest. It's all I've got left. An' we don't go ravin' after Lizzie fer isolatin', or Raven fer dealin' with his shite by bein an utter bastert, or the whole damn'ted world fer respondin' tae despair by buryin' its head in th' ground an' pretendin' nothin's happenin', so why's my drinkin' suddenly the problem? Eh? Why's my problem the one tha' crosses th'damn't line?"

"You know? Fair enough," Adrasteia told her. "This is an open bar afterall. Just...be careful, I guess?"

She smiled at Finn.

"But really, I'm not really around them too much. The Raven's gotten a little better since he left retirement, so there's that. Honestly, my unhealthy coping mechanism is locking myself in a room with a bunch of ice cream watching sad movies."

"Ain't the worst. We all need tae get a li'l unhealthy sometimes, I think. Ain't a problem with it. We live in an unhealthy wirreld, so can't exactly complain that we have tae do unhealthy things tae stay sane. Keeps me wakin' up e'ery mornin' an' forcin' myself tae sort through the blood an' the flesh an' the hurtin' an' the death. Keeps me lookin' fer the truth, even if it hurts." Even though it hurts.

"It's work tha' needs tae be done, so I'm not weepin' o'er what keeps me doin' it."

"As long as it's only sometimes," Adrasteia said.

"Mm." Finn shrugs, concerningly. "I'll be well enough. Ye keep yerself in mind - don't need tae worry about me, aye?"

Adrasteia nodded, then sat back to continue manning the bar.

Sam paced by the pool.

"Alright, so that fella is trash at bein' inspirational."

Pace pace pace.

"So he didn't really give any assurances that this isn't a personal coup for power."

Pace pace pace.

"So he rushed everyone out before we could smooth things over."

He stopped and looked at the motley crowd milling about.

"This is still the most feasible anti-Omnicorp gatherin' I've seen. We just need to make sure it don't fall apart before we can get a revolution in process. Even if the aftermath is messy, it'll only get worse if the Omnicorp keeps gatherin' power."

Sam turned to the nearest person he was sorta-kinda-talking out loud to, but hadn't been paying attention to the identity of.

"What do you think?"

"Uh, yeah." Ken said unhelpfully, half paying attention to the cowboy's words. He was drinking a vodka-soda because the Health Conscious Adult Friend is not here. "I mean it is imperative to gut the Omnicorp. Change the paradigm, so I don't need to rescue my friends from a blacksite again."

Once Orla finished her food and shake, Emily approached her and offered a smile.

"All right, the car's ready to take you home. Umeko is going to be taking you," she said to Orla. "Need anything before you head out?"

"Yeah, exactly. Even if Nocturne or anyone else here has some ulterior motive, they ain't gonna be a threat on the level of the Omnicorp."

Sam held up a finger.

"But if Lux or Great Balls of Fire Guy she fought earlier are the ones hijackin things in the end, I'm not sure how I'm gonna approach that."

Lux exited the room with Nocturne and returned to the party!

She flitted around a bit, talking with various cell leaders, introducing them to each other, building companionship and so on... but eventually, Candy got a golden glowing text on her eyeball!

<Hey kiddo! How have you been? Let's catch up! -Lux>

"Well, I would use the old adage 'we'll burn our bridge if we get there,' but that isn't particularly reassuring," Ken shrugs. "I feel like Lux or Mister Balls-of-Fire (tch, whoever that is) even if they try to pull rank in the dogshit remains of the fourth apocalypse, aren't going to be. Particularly effective. Because they might be powerful, but they are still one person. And one person can't do a lot. The 'Superman Problem,' basically. Any grand-changing things are ultimately a cooperative effect. Which is we're here and why I am willing tolerate this awkward-ass party. Well, that and the bacon-wrapped figs too."

"See, I'm willin' to tolerate this 'awkward ass party' because I've been tired of layin' low so the Omnicorp don't stomp on what's left of my family, and if there's any chance to start fightin' back I wanna take it."

Sam crossed his arms.

"See, the one thing I disagree with on what little of a plan Nocturne has is the sole focus on the militias. See, don't get me wrong, they're important to this whole thing, but my fear is that they'll get squashed if we ain't keeping the Corps' tied up on their home territory."

"Huh, militia experience?" One of Ken's eyebrows jumps over his aviators. "You don't strike me as a contracting type but I shouldn't be surprised. I mean, I worked with a dude dressed like a cowboy. You should meet him one day, when this blows over."

He takes a sip. "If Noct's plans are on thin ice, what are your suggestions for improvement?"

Wow. That was... kind of a lot to take in. And a lot of... fighting, maybe, a little bit? Theraea hadn't expected all of this to be so stressful. At least taking down capitalism was something everyone could agree on!

Regardless, with the less-than-stellar meeting quickly resolved, Theraea headed out to like... meet some people she hadn't yet. Ken was already talking to the cowboy, so... maybe Candy and/or Zil?? They seemed nice, probably. Theraea, in classic Theraea fashion, ventured..... a wave at them? Yes, she was in giant moth person form again.

More speeches! More things to really listen to. A lot to keep track of. At this point, Zil wishes she had a damn journal on her. Like college again, desperately scribbling notes that bordered on personal anecdotes from her professors. Man.

At least she knew what to focus on, now. This toppling would take time, and she'd stay in her lane until then since prospective forward-thinking was frowned upon, for some reason.

Now comes the worst part. Mingling.

"Er-- I thought you had some good ideas there," She says to Cadence, rubbing at the back of her own neck, "like you've done this sorta thing before. Very nice." This is a lot of fucking people, but it's still easy to notice a MOTH PERSON waving at her. So, she waves back! Might as well. Ain't no one else gonna try to talk to a normal looking bitch like her. She's half convinced she should walk around taking drink orders...but there's a bar already. So. She'll just go over there! Order herself a nice glass of water. That's what she needed right now. Ice water. And a snack, maybe.

Orla just glared, sulking at Emily. She took a long empty sip from her milkshake. It had been really good, which was annoying. "Thanks for the food, and the invite. Sorry for all the, y'know." She said kind of hollowly.

"Can I not stay a little longer? I've only been here for like an hour, barely talked to anyone." She asked, only slightly whining.

Raven went over to Nocturne to have a word regarding his deployments and resources he had access to that could help the resistance.

"Talk to these people more. Organize some one on ones for the folks like that person poisoning their liver at the bar. The biggest problem right now is the morale."

Sam frowned a bit.

"Also would have helped to have a few concrete plans to start with. Routes picked out that we're going to be focusin' on and such. Just a few. The strength of flyin' by the seat of our pants, I guess, is that potential moles are less of a risk, but that comes at the cost of a feelin' of organization."

"Wait," he snapped out of his rambling, "you work with another cowboy-lookin' feller? They didn't use a sword, did they?"

Ken nods at Sam’s plan. It was a bit rudimentary but it had more body then Nocturne’s plan. And the cowboy did had a point - morale is a keystone to the success of this battle.

“Nah, he’s a survivalist sort of dude. He uses guns like every other mercenary. Smart ones. I mean, you have to be pretty stupid to use a medieval weapon in an age of bullets and electricity.”

”Oh yeah, I just realize we had this conversation for five minutes or so and I barely introduced myself.  My alias is Hackerman,” he sets his vodka soda on his black box and holds out a hand. “And my box buddy is Polybius.”