nookiepowered: (action (ready for it))
Bo Jones. Or maybe Dennis. ([personal profile] nookiepowered) wrote2013-07-20 11:04 am

The Glass Factory, Neutral Territory, Mumblemumble, Canada

Somebody's Crumbling Disused Office In Somebody's Crumbling Disused Factory, A Van Ride Away Across Town


The Morrigan
"Ew. Turkish prison chic." Morrigan entered the room wearing Much Prettier Clothes Than You, Or You, Either, and focused on Bo immediately, smirking only a little. "I think we can manage chairs for everyone, can't we?" She gave a pre-emptive gesture to the trailing minions. "We're civilized folk."

Bo
"Says the chick whose hands aren't cuffed behind her back."

Said the chick whose hands were cuffed behind her back, but at least her eyes were free to roll as one of the Morrigan's henchfae shoved her none too gently down onto a metal folding chair. Mitchell was somewhere out there in the factory with the wolf guy; only Bo had the dubious honor of getting yanked in here for an audience with the queen of whatever.

The Morrigan
"We'd do something about that-- but captive audiences are always so much more fun when making a sales pitch. Don't you agree?"

The Morrigan's smile should have been a lot toothier, for as sharp as it looked.

"By the way, congrats on your lost little lamb routine. You've got everybody buying it." She waved a negligent hand to indicate that the Everybody in question wasn't all that important, though. "But between you and I, you know more than you're telling, don't you?"

Bo
About what they'd been doing in the Ash's vault, of course she did. About herself, her past, her relationship to the Fae? Not much.

"Doesn't everybody?" Bo shot back. "But unless you care what I had for breakfast or want the skinny on Team Vampire or Team Werewolf when it comes to who's better in bed, nothing that matters to you people. Whoever you people are."

The Morrigan
"Touchy," the Morrigan observed, leaning back, expression amused. "And I know all I need to know on that topic, believe me, little girl. But I suppose dealing with the Ash and his delightful muscle-men would put any fae off her feed." She shrugged one shoulder, and turned an elegant palm upward. "Local government and elected official. You can call me the Morrigan. Or Your Luminosity, if you want to get on my good side. Consider me the welcome wagon for the dark Fae."

Bo
"Is there a casserole? I see no casserole. Cookies, maybe?" Bo shook her head. "You've got the concept of hard-selling all wrong here. You're supposed to make it look good."

Admittedly, the Morrigan did make bad look good, in her way, but not, you know. Good.

The Morrigan
"Funny. She's funny!" The Morrigan gave her a bright smile and an artificial laugh that she shared with the impassive minions, then switched to a flat stare. "Do I look like Martha Stewart? Open your eyes, Norma Fae." A snap in Bo's face. "And listen up. This is going to save your stupid, naive, lying little life."

Bo
"Enlighten me, your Luminescence." See what she did there? Bo would pause to be impressed with herself, but trying people's patience was a delicate balancing act. "Which is kind of a weird title considering you're shilling for the Dark Side. Just saying."

The Morrigan
The Morrigan's lip curled. "It's a metaphor that only goes so far, Bo Peep. Now." She crossed her legs, leaning forward. "The important part: we have a millennia-old two-party system, and it works just swell, because membership is mandatory. So what do you think that makes you, wandering around like an untagged puppy?"

Bo
"Ron Paul?" Bo's lips wrinkled and she shook her head. "No, let's go Green. Jill Stein."

The Morrigan
"You're going to be as dead as Che Guevera if you don't wise up." The Morrigan gave Bo a thin smile, patience at an end. "You see, you running around free and nonpartisan gives all the little lemmings ideas. You really want to jump off that cliff?"

Bo
Playing into the political game even for a moment's sarcasm value had been a stupid move, Bo realized with regret. "I'm not here to jump off anything, run for any offices, kiss any babies, or even get an I Voted badge. I'm not planning on sticking around."

Assuming they, you know. Uncuffed her.

The Morrigan
"Wish we could could take your word for it... well, no, it really doesn't matter." She shrugged and smiled, looking more cheerful. "You're here to be tested. And if you live through it, you'll get to pick a side. Thus, me." The Morrigan crossed her legs, leaning back. "There are advantages to signing up with the Dark, you know."

Bo
"If we're just talking wardrobe, I approve of the dress code but I can buy my own leather."

The Morrigan
"We take care of our own, honey. Jobs. Cover-ups for any... messes, you leave about." The Morrigan's eyes narrowed. "You must have been moving around constantly, not to be caught before this. Unless you have a lot more self-control than a so-called baby succubus should have."

Bo
For somebody who claimed not to believe her, the Morrigan hit uncomfortably close to the truth. "I took care of myself," Bo said shortly. No matter how uncomfortably close she'd come, more than once, to being caught by someone, if not the Fae. "And I still do."

The Morrigan
The Morrigan wasn't committing to believing one thing or the other, yet. But on the off-chance it was true...

"Must've been lonely. No friends or family. Afraid you'd kill them, I'd imagine." She watched Bo's face carefully, voice growing softer and more sympathetic. "You have the chance to be a part of something now... A chance to have a new family..." Her tone hardened again. "Or to have enemies. So..." She got to her feet. "Be very careful how you play the next few hours."

Bo
It was lonely.

And then there was Kenzi, and there was Fandom, and Kenzi again, and it wasn't.

"I have--" Friends, one of them captured with her and two -- the two who could least easily defend themselves -- running free in Fae territory. So shut the hell up about your friends and family if you don't want someone hunting them down, Bo. "--a cramp in my shoulder, chafed wrists and a bunch of goons about to throw me into the lion's den. The perks of the Fae lifestyle are looking a little flimsy from this angle, but I'll keep it in mind."

The Morrigan
"We also have dental." The Morrigan sashayed to the door, and threw over her shoulder, "Welcome to the top of the food chain, doll. Enjoy it while it lasts."



On the Way From One Part of Somebody's Crumbling Disused Factory To Another Part of Somebody's Crumbling Disused Factory


Bo
Bo shot a wary glance at Dyson as the Fae man guided her and Mitchell -- this time without bags over their heads, at least -- through a building as grungy and unimpressive as the Ash's compound hadn't been.

"So what exactly am I in for here, huh?" The Morrigan hadn't exactly provided any more details on what would happen than Saskia had given her way back when, which was swords and things that want to kill you, otherwise known as any random bad week in Fandom, otherwise known as bupkis when it comes to preparing for specifics. "Angry gnomes? Flying piranha? Mechanical lobster swarm?"

Edited at 2013-06-21 12:44 pm (local)

Dyson
Dyson locked the door behind him. Even as he turned, he didn't lay an eye on Bo. "Underfae," he said, reaching for Bo's arm again.

Bo
"Gesundheit." Which was Bo's way of saying thanks for the treasure trove of information there: one word she'd heard before and still had no real definition of.

Mitchell
"What she means is 'what the hell is that?'," Mitchell provided.

He sounded sullen. Somehow walking around with a hood over his head hadn't been grand on his mood, and this whole... reaction wasn't making it much better.

Dyson
"Underfae," Dyson repeated. Was that a huff of exasperation? "Those of our kind who don't exactly fit in the human world. Very old, very dangerous, you'll face two."

As he spoke, his hand didn't leave Bo's arm - but he was definitely in a rush.

Bo
Well, that was at least something more than 'wants you dead' -- not that it was an entirely happymaking something more.

Bo was irritated by his irritation considering how they'd been treated so far, but she kept her voice level as she asked, "So my chances against these guys are..."

Dyson
"I wouldn't bet on you."

Dyson was just one big ray of sunshine.

Mitchell
"You're not the social type, are you." Coming from Mitchell, that was only hypocritical at certain points in his life and/or addiction cycle. Right now he felt entitled to say it.

Bo
"Seriously, did I spit in your whatever-kind-of-Fae-you-are chow or something?" Though the surly was honestly kind of familiar; he reminded her of Derek. The werewolf, not the fake pornstar superhero son. "What's your damage?"

Dyson
Dyson blew out an exceptionately irritated-sounding breath. "Kiss me."

Mitchell
"Whoa, whoa," Mitchell said, his eyebrows shooting up. "Don't think she'll take you up on that."

Bo
"Under other circumstances with another personality, maybe. What the fuck?"

Dyson
Dyson didn't look like he felt terribly jilted. "We don't have time for this," he said simply. "You need all of the strength you can get, so take some of mine. Kiss me."

Bo
Well. If that was what he meant... "Somehow I don't think your boss would approve, but sure, if I'm walking into hell, I'm not turning down a free refill on ice water."

So romantic. So poetic. So grabbing his face, and okay, for a dillweed, he smelled pretty good, and tasted even better, and oh yeeeeah. Helloooooooo supernatural power shot.

Mitchell
And there was... Mitchell, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling and coughing awkwardly. Okay. Uh... Okay.

That face-sucking thing they were doing? He was... not getting in the middle of that.

Bo
Was he sure? Because honestly, Bo would not object to that development at all. She did, though, eventually pull away from Dyson -- of her own free will, thank you.

"Not bad," she managed to say with a vaguely straight face, because fine, whatever, 4th of July fireworks, but she'd had those in her mouth before, with people -- one of them within face-sucking distance himself -- she cared a whole lot more about.

Mitchell
"You powered up?" Mitchell asked coolly.

Yeah. This was... kind of weird. He'd rant at George about it later.

Bo
"You offering?" Bo replied a lot less coolly, because it was pretty hard to be cool about anything at the moment with her eyes aflame like that.

Mitchell
Sigh. This was... stupid. This was all intensely stupid.

"If you need it," Mitchell said.

Bo
"It sure as hell wouldn't hurt. Besides," Bo said, moving over to him. "If they have to carry me outta there feet first, be nice if the last person I kissed was somebody I actually like."

Mitchell
They'd... need a significantly stronger vampire than Mitchell to argue with that.

He grasped her by the hips and pulled her in close for a kiss. (Don't mind him if it was slightly competitive.)

Bo
Don't mind Bo if she didn't mind that one single little bit, and might even have forgotten for a moment that they had an audience.

Dyson
And now it was Dyson's turn to cough awkwardly. Funny how that worked.

"It's time."

Bo
Time for whaa.... oh. Right. Bo refrained from licking her lips because that would just be rude and wrong and what was the question?

Oh yeah. How to beat whatever they were going to throw at her, aside from feeling like she could throw back an ox right now. "Got any other advice for me?"

Dyson
"They're going to underestimate you. Use that to your advantage," Dyson said, pulling on his jacket until everything was... straightened out. "Otherwise? Don't get dead."

Bo
"Aaaand he's back to being an asshole again."

Not that she didn't plan on following that last completely unneeded bit of advice. If she could.



Outside A Rusted-Away Sheet Metal Panel On The Crumblingest Disusedest Corner of Somebody's Crumbling Disused Factory


Kenzi
Sneak sneak sneak sneak...

"Please let there not be rats. Please let there not be rats. Please let there not be giant, magic, adorable Goth-eating rats."

Toby
"You realize, given our luck, that that's exactly when the rats are going to show up?" Toby pointed out. Helpfully.

Kenzi
"Shh shh shhh shhhh!" Kenzi hushed him, trying to make herself smaller. "It might work! You never know! Something might be on our side, and remember that I already had to face New York sewer rats once!"

Toby
Toby snorted. "Somehow I don't think that's how it works."

Kenzi
Kenzi was trying every door in the loading dock, yanking on handles and hoping *something* would be unlocked. A sheet of corrugated tin was tacked to a wall; tugging on one corner revealed some kind of access corridor. "C'mon, help me with this... oh, there's definitely gonna be rats. Ugh ugh the things I do for Bo."

Toby
Toby grabbed onto the sheet helped work it free. "I'd say ladies first, but- maybe I should. Because I'd hear someone before they could catch sight of us, so."

Kenzi
Kenzi looked even more worried. "If you get captured and make me get you free, you're going to owe me all the sexual favors ever. Especially since I'm not collecting from the other two." She stepped into the corridor after him and muttered, "Flashlights would've helped too."

Toby
"That's- a good idea, actually," Toby admitted. "The flashlights. Not the sexual favours." Although he wouldn't mind that either, but for the part where they'd be in exchange for her rescuing him were he to become a dude in distress. "Should start carrying one of those keychain ones."

Kenzi
"Exactly." Kenzi set her teeth so she wouldn't look down and see something on the floor that would make her yak, and lowered her voice as she caught sight of a light up ahead. "Do we have a plan for this part? The rescue-y part?"

Toby
"Depends," Toby said. "Is 'don't get dead' a plan?"



The Management
According to Dyson, yes. But Dyson's plans frequently suck. Just saying.



The Factory Floor


Dyson
After passing Mitchell off to a couple of guys Bo could barely crane her neck enough to make eye contact with, Dyson led her through the dingy halls toward a large, echoing space. Echoing, that is, with the sounds of rhythmic clapping, footstomping, and chanting in languages that Bo didn't need to speak to recognize the meaning as fight, fight, fight.

Bo
"Fight to the death I was kind of expecting, but Thunderdome?" Or the audience at a monster truck rally. "Not so much."

She did a little more neck craning to try and catch a glimpse of this Underfae thing she was supposed to be up against.

The Barbarian
...Oh. OKAY, then

Bo
"That is not an octopus in lingerie." Saskia was so getting an earful as soon as Bo actually had a working number for her again.

Dyson
Dyson...almost looked like he might crack a smile there, for just a second. Maybe....maybe....nope.

"I don't think the word Underfae means what you think it means," he said, deadpan. "But you never know; there's always the next round, if you survive him."

Bo didn't shut down the flash of uncertainty fast enough for him to miss it. "He's big," he added in slightly softer tones, "But he's slow. You can use that." Dyson pointed to the rack at the edge of the cleared fighting space. "Those are your weapons. Choose wisely."

Bo
Bo snorted. "But no pressure." She reached for a wicked-looking triangular knife, but held back for a moment, aware that the....whateverkindoffaehewas was still standing behind her.

Dyson
That actually was the tiniest hairline fracture of a smile, even if it vanished almost as fast as Dyson himself did after saying, "Good luck."

The Barbarian
Take Schwarzenegger, give him steroids, a pillaged Viking helmet, tatts that looked like scars or scars that looked like tatts, a really ridiculous set of suede boxing shorts, a lizard tongue and a drooling problem, and you would have Bo's opponent.

It was less the size than the sheer aggression he exuded-- as well as some olfactory issues-- that was intimidating.

Also, he was carrying two Acme-sized hammers that he swung like Bo was the designated whack-a-mole, and he was eager to render her cartoon-pancake-flat.

Here, Bo. Have some tongue. It could be worse!

Bo
Sure it could! The actual designated whack-a-moles could be here causing localized earthquakes and Bo could be separated from the fighting by an invisible shield that... Wait, how would that be worse?

Oh, right, if this was graduation, Kenzi would be in the middle of the fight instead of thankfully escaped somewhere that the Fae couldn't get at her.

Bo reached again for the knife, and seeing that it was part of a pair, grabbed the other as well. Above her on the steel walkways of the factory, lined with Fae, the clapping and chanting continued, until the Ash's low voice broke through. "ENOUGH! TO THE DEATH!"

The voices became cheers; Bo turned to face the mons...fae...man....thing again, and circled slowly in tandem with him, looking warily for anything that remotely resembled a weak point. "Christ, what're they feeding you down here?"

The Barbarian
Not being long on conversation, the under-fae didn't even deign to growl at that. Just stuck his tongue out again. If it'd been an offer, well...

He swung both hammers sideways at Bo, aiming for her head, with enough force behind it to smash her to paste if they connected.

Bo
Bo bent backwards, avoiding the intersection of pastemakers in a move her 8th grade gymnastics coach would probably try to take the credit for if she could, then ducked under his arm, trying to get a clear shot at his right side with her knives.

The Barbarian
"Yaaarrrr," explained Ah-nold the Tongue, miffed that his opponent was being sneaky like that. Also, hey!

None of this helped his speed, really, or ability to dodge, but it did mean he had to keep turning to follow Bo's fancy-schmancy fast moves.

Bo
If only he'd stop with the whack-a-mole-ing while he was turning. Bo ducked another blow, not as fast as last time, and ended up having to roll to avoid the path of his swing.

Back on her feet, she realized they'd circled close to one of the concrete support beams. If she could get him to hit that instead of her, it might stun him enough that she could get in behind him...

The Barbarian
And oh look: concrete support beam, whacked! ... and crumbling a bit. That could've been your skull, Bo.

"YAAAAAAR!"

Stay still, you fast little bit of opponent!

Bo
Could still be her skull if the damn thing fell on her, but Bo was more worried about getting out of his way. Left, right, jab... "Shit!" Duck, dive...

Between his legs, which was a move that tended to work out for Bo in more than one field of battle, and ohthankgod, behind him with maybe a couple seconds advantage?

A couple seconds was all it took to slice those blades across his hamstrings.

The Barbarian
The bigger they are, the harder they... yeah, and down Conan went with howl, flailing.

SO CHEATING.

The pain had him distracted enough that all he did for a minute was lie there, tongue lolling out as he tried to work out how to get back up.

Bo
Which gave Bo plenty of time to circle in front of him again and kick him back from his knees to the ground, hammers falling in the dust. The swelling roar of the Fae crowd became a rhythm again as she stood above the fallen Underfae, knives poised over his face.

"TO THE DEATH! TO THE DEATH!"

There were more of those on Bo's conscience that she'd take back if she could than there were years of her life, but she had no problem killing when she had to. To protect herself, her friends, the school, the kids...

This wasn't that. This guy wasn't going to make another move on her; hell, he wasn't going to walk out of here without help.

Instead of her knives, it was her boot that Bo placed on his throat. "Anybody gonna argue that I won this?" she yelled, then looked up toward the Fae leaders on the catwalk above the arena. "I'll defend my life, but I'm not murdering people for your entertainment."

Mitchell
Out in the audience, Mitchell winced. He'd had his fair share of experiences staying hidden in the crowd and not getting involved, but-- yeah.

He wasn't unhappy Bo had won. He would've... been happier if she'd just gone for the kill. He had no idea how these people would respond. Vampires... tended to be touchy about their rituals.

The Barbarian
The under-fae in question wasn't going to argue it. Although he was giving Bo a look that wasn't so much grateful as defiant. Or maybe despairing?

The Morrigan
The Morrigan rolled her eyes, and snapped her fingers in the directions of two guards. "Get him out of there."

There were boos and growls from the crowd as the two warily approached Bo and her downed opponent.

Bo
Wary was the word of the hour; Bo kept her weapons raised as she took her foot off her downed opponent and stepped back. She didn't trust anybody in this building (with the exception of Mitchell, wherever they'd taken him) as far as she could throw the behemoth at her feet.

The Morrigan
The Morrigan waited until they'd gotten the under-fae on his feet, then looked around the crowd, and at the still-impassive Ash. Then she smirked, raised her hand-- and turned her thumb downward.

The crowd roared as the guards simultaneously reached over and cut his throat. Whether in approval or rage, it was impossible to tell.

Mitchell
Mitchell released a breath he hadn't technically needed to hold. Bo wouldn't be happy, but at least she wasn't dead-- yet.

Bo
If they were hoping to throw Bo off her game, that was a good way to go about it. More disgusted than shocked, though there was some of that too, she glared up at the woman above her. "We take care of our own, huh?"

The Morrigan
"Until they fail us." Duh. Really, did it need to be said?

The Morrigan gave Bo a sweet chew-on-that-buttercup smile, then waved her hand into the shadows. "Continue with the Test!"

Dun Dun DUUUUUN
As Bo circled the floor, alternating between the cheering crowd and looking for her next opponent, four long-taloned fingers wrapped over her shoulder...




[Preplayed with the stupendous [livejournal.com profile] regretiz4suckas, [livejournal.com profile] godgavemecable, [livejournal.com profile] chose_humanity and [livejournal.com profile] glacial_witch. NFB since off-island, but OOC=A-OK! One more coming, but laaaaater. Possibly by the "tomorrow" definition.]

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