CB's Grim Frequencies IC -- COMPLETE

[Shayuri]

Death Otter spends about half an hour putting together her go-bag. She's not sure if she'll have to evacuate the church, but prudence demanded she be prepared. The most important things go inside, a few discs of software she'd pressed, her laptop, a couple of thumbdrives and the removable static drive, along with as much cash as she could scrape together (which took most of the time to find) and some snacks and water bottles.

Then she goes and finds her gun. She didn't know where it had been stashed, but she figured she'd handed it over in the kitchen and she doubted the hot potato had gone far...so it didn't take long to find it in the freezer. That got put in the go bag, along with the ammo...separately of course. No one wanted to get shot accidentally by their go bag.

After that, Otter sat down and had a bite to eat as she mulled things over.

It wasn't until she'd finished that she decided to have another look at the octopus. Whether she had to bolt or not, odds were overwhelmingly strong that she'd never get another chance. Otter was no biologist, but she had basic grounding in physical sciences. And of course, she had the sum total of human knowledge at her finger tips.

So, laptop tuned to sites on dissection and octopi, she got the sharpest knife in the kitchen she could find, and a bunch of paper towels and some water, and dragged the critter away from her gear...and settled down to see what she could see about the thing that had eaten some junkie and tried to do the same to her.

 

[Forged Fury]

Cyril didn't really have much planned. He hoped the cops would stay away, at least until Garvey's lackey showed up. With a number of movie plots running through his mind, he certainly hoped that Garvey was sending someone to help and not someone to clean up and tie up loose ends... with them being the loose ends. Just stop, you're getting as bad as Otter, he thought to himself, this is the FCC. What did disquiet Cyril more than he cared to admit was the thought that Otter could read his mind. He would have normally attributed her ability to know his thoughts to how smart she was, but she pretty much said them word for word. That was creepy... although not creepier than that damn alien. Alien!

Finally coming to grips with the fact they had just faced down an alien, the former lawyer needed something to take his mind off the situation. If he thought he could score some recreational pharmaceuticals, he might have given it a shot, but in the middle of the night at the church, that wasn't happening. As he wandered down the hallway, he looked up and saw a sign indicating one of the rooms was the church daycare. Glancing in, Cyril saw something that brought back memories from his childhood. He had been an entitled brat for sure, but there was one accomplishment from his youth of which he was was truly proud. Walking into the room, he grabbed the Rubik's Cube off the shelf and headed for the kitchen to get a stiff drink of Jesus' blood and get to work on solving the cube. He kept his Beretta with him and set it on the table.

OOC: Solving the Rubik's Cube will be Cyril's mental meditation to regain spent power points after a rest.

 

[CanadienneBacon]

Credit: madlab.org.uk​

Down in the basement, Otter got to work dissecting the thrall. The creature had by now shrunk to half the size she'd originally seen it while it was in the bathroom, and had turned the color of paste. It had tentacles that, when fully stretched out, ranged in length from approximately three to four feet. It had teeth in its maw--a definite diversion from the maw of a beak of a standard 'pus. Otter hacked crudely at the thrall's innards, some of her high school and college biology returning. She found its beak, siphon, brachial and systemic hearts, mantle, and the digestive cecum (an oblong pouch inside the corpus of the thrall, filled with disgusting grey ooze and mostly digested bits of bone and flesh). The thrall was a carnivore, it seemed; she found no evidence of plant matter in its digestive tract. One curious thing about the thrall was that each of the creature's largest three tentacles had a small sac containing clear fluid. Otter accidentally pierced on the sacs with her knife, causing fluid to leak onto her work surface. Half a minute later, when the fluid ate through the surface, she realized the sacs must contain some kind of extraordinarily strong organic acid. She was careful not to touch it, though it ruined her knife and prevented any further dissection with that instrument.

---

Ninety minutes elapsed. Cyril, alert for the presence of the field agent from the Indianapolis office, heard a soft rapping at the fellowship door. When he answered, he found a small mousy man standing outside, huddled against the cold, sporting a pencil mustache and a black parka. "Agent William Keihn. OK to come in?" The man didn't extend a hand in greeting. Cyril realized a beat later there was a second someone outside, too. A tired-looking tall man wearing a North Face jacket and blue jeans, carrying a hard black plastic case in one hand.

 

[CanadienneBacon]

Feral walked. He passed by a Starbucks that had yet to open. And then Black Acre Brewing Company, a hipster's hangout and brewery started by former law students.

Credit: www.ratebeer.com

Feral walked west, toward downtown. When he got halfway down Washington Street toward the mercantile district in downtown Indy, he passed by a pair of brown brick tenements. A kid with dark skin and a hoodie stood in the doorway of one of the buildings, and called out as Feral walked by. "Hey! You! Wanna score?"

 

[KirayaTiDrekan]

Feral kept his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and kept his head down as he turned around and approached the kid.

"Maybe," was Feral's only response as he looked the kid over, trying to assess whether the kid was an addict or potentially dangerous.

 

[Forged Fury]

Cyril appeared to ignore Keihn, his eyes mostly focused on the other man. "Maybe... Who's he, Agent Keihn?"

 

[CanadienneBacon]

Feral kept his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and kept his head down as he turned around and approached the kid. "Maybe," was Feral's only response as he looked the kid over, trying to assess whether the kid was an addict or potentially dangerous.

"Forty to score. Antifreeze, astro turf, detergent, popsicles, honey oil, pharms, an' shake and bake. One forty if you wanna hit home." It wasn't clear what "hit home" meant, but Feral could guess.

Cyril appeared to ignore Keihn, his eyes mostly focused on the other man. "Maybe... Who's he, Agent Keihn?"

Keihn turned and glanced at the man with the large black case. He pursed his lips. "Professor Bukowski, IU. Can we come inside?" Keihn was shivering, and not for effect; it was probably in the negatives outside this morning.

 

[KirayaTiDrekan]

Feral held up his hands, "Slow down, slow down. I've been locked up for a few years, been out of the loop. Who do I talk to for some street T?"

 

[Forged Fury]

OOC: Sense Motive: [roll0] to get a basic feel for if they intend violence.

Cyril nodded and moved out of the way, opening the door fully. "A professor, huh? Of what?" Had Marks spoken to Garvey? Why was there an academic here?

 

[Shayuri]

Death Otter blinked, taken aback, then looked at the knife.

Wow. That was actually pretty badass. If there was something that could HOLD that stuff, that wouldn't decompose, then...damn. What did they use to hold acids? Ceramics. Glass. Experimentation was necessary!

She got up and ran back upstairs meaning to hit the kitchen. Voices near the front door caught her attention though, so she went to check that out instead.

So Agent Keihn and Professor Bukowski got a good look at Death Otter wandering into the foyer behind Cyril, holding a half-destroyed knife in her hand.