Artificial Planetoid Citadel
The Galactic Federation
Multiverse Designation Kappa-Nine-Five...

...and about three years ago -- give or take

"Evelyn Augusta Bell."

Evelyn loved her full name, especially the musical note it ended on: Bell. The Bell family was infamous throughout the Federation and a few places besides, ever since her grandmother Augusta ransomed the Galactic President's son with an interstellar death ray. They were scientists, inventors and engineers, and every last one of them was sentenced to serve a collective two thousand years for Grandma Augusta's crimes, dedicating their often terrifying technological innovations to Federation service on research planets like Citadel.

Evelyn loved her full name, but she hated the way the Administrator said it. She was a postdoctoral fellow at the Institute of Translocational Science, and yet Administrator Zabrix was one of an irritating number who was yet to call her Dr. Bell. Perhaps it was because she was a Bell; perhaps because she was a woman, but either way it was infuriating.

Evelyn had earned her title, regardless of the fact that it was to fulfill a family-wide sentence: in fact, according to the family's parole officer, successful demonstration of her postdoctoral research would let the rest of the Bells off the hook for her grandmother's crimes.

"Expecting any problems, Miss Evelyn?" the Administrator sneered, watching emergency personnel take inventory of the fire extonguishers throughout the massive vaulted laboratory.

"Doctor Bell," she enunciated, and smothered a 'say it with me now' with a too-broad grin and snapped her goggles over her eyes, and flipped her bright red scarf over her shoulder. "And Grandma Augusta always said it never hurts to prepare for a fire on your birthday. Never too comforting, her proverbs," she added, and checked her wristwatch.

"You know, when I approved a Bell's admission to the Translocational Institute, it was with the understanding..." He trailed off, staring at her wristwatch. It had two clockwise and four counter-clockwise hands moving at different speeds, but each time they passed each other they seemed closer to ligning up perfectly.

"Yes, Zabbie?"

That annoyed him. He continued through a long-suffering sigh: "It was with the understanding that you'd be advancing our research in the study of time travel. You know how heavily invested I am in time travel. I could have petitioned to place you on a corporate contract, offworld. I could, still, if you call off this reckless experiment."

"Time travel is for chumps, chump," she grinned wider. Leaving this stuffy academic planetoid for the first time in two decades was tempting, had been before, but here she was about to tour other universes. If the experiment didn't kill her.

"You were always such a charmer, Evelyn Augusta Bell."

"Dr. Bell. You're going to miss us Bells, aren't you?" she cackled, giving her goggle strap another snap.

"Hardly," the Administrator sighed, closing all six eyes to rub his brow.

The doors at the far end of the room 'whooshed' open as two unlucky graduate researchers carried in Evelyn's luggage: an impossibly heavy Seward trunk containing all the supplies she conjectured she might need, plus a few more items to enjoy her visit to another universe: ten pairs of Doc Marten boots, a few potent hallucinogens from her friends at the Galactic Pharmacological College, two hand-sized death rays, and a box of condoms, among other things. The trunk also had a single stamp on its exterior, one for Citadel which used to read: 'Advancing Knowledge; Advancing Progress.'

She had long since crossed out this slogan, replacing it with 'EAT ME' in bold red letters. "Where's my Q.A. guy?" she asked, frowning at her watch as it moved closer to alignment. There should have been another step in prep before the arrival of her luggage, which signaled her imminent departure.

"Sick. I had my people run diagnostics before you arrived," the Administrator smiled, and curled a finger around the bright red cable attached to her watch. "Don't worry -- it's safe, or at least as safe as your experiment."

Evelyn watched him for a beat, then breathed, "Right. Okay." With a grunt the two researchers dropped her luggage in front of her. She sat on top of it, and at a signal from the Administrator everyone stepped back. Way back.

"Calm down, you dweebs," she cackled, tapping on her watch. "According to this we still have two and a half minutes until -- "

She and her luggage vanished in a massive cloud of smoke -- and shredded essays, inexplicably, which ignited when the detached red cable went whipping through the air, showering the laboratory in sparks. The lights went out; then the alarm bells, the emergency lights and the overhead sprinklers came on at once.

The Administrator examined his silk tie, now soaked and coated in a fine layer of ash. "Thank the Almighty Aether we'll never have to see her again."

Luxury Orbital Biodome Mal Fortuna
Secular Holdings of the Holy Church of the Arisen
Multiverse Designation Alpha-Zero-Six

When Evelyn turned in bed to face her lover from the night before, the artificial sunlight dappling across his face, she imagined another in its place.

It began as a mental exercise, stretching her brain to recall the features of someone she had not seen in nearly two years, working through the painful haze of too many margaritas. She went one feature at a time: his hair was short, dark and curly; hers had been cherry red, bobbed. His skin was almost as fair as Evelyn's had become since her most recent death in a fiery car crash; hers had been much darker, her cheeks dotted with black freckles. His eyes... wait, what color were his eyes, again? Evelyn screwed up her face and tried to remember more about this man from last night, though the memory that her eyes had been silver-white, profesionally engineered, came easily.

His name was not something she would remember, nor something I plan to stick around and learn, she reminded herself as she sat on the edge of the bed to dress. There was no shame -- and she felt none -- in casual sex between two grown, consenting adults; but the less he knew about how she intended to spend her remaining thirty-seven minutes in this realm, the better.

Her name had been Merced, and she paused when she remembered the name and its owner all the more vividly. She had tried to go with her, after a night and two days making love by the fire; after Evelyn had said, emotionally uninhibited by wine and warm company, that she wished she could fall in love with her. And when Evelyn's six-handed wristwatch had rung, and Merced seized her arm and cried "I'm coming with you!" before the multiverse whisked away three passengers --

-- pieces, all in pieces -- blood and bone and guts draped in her arms, pooled around her luggage -- dimly aware she was standing in a busy mezzanine, and a policeman shouting at her, and nothing left of Merced but pieces --

Evelyn startled as a bright tropical bird flapped by their screen window, scattering a small trail of glittering green feathers. She heard her lover stir and kick away the covers, and immediately she cut a path to the door, twisting the knob. "Good morning," he said to her, groggily but fondly.

Without a word, without a pause, she shut the door on him, now just another "whoever-he-was" whose name she would never have to learn.

* * *

Traveling was expensive, Evelyn had found in the now nearly three years she had been doing it. She rarely had the time or means to cook, and rarely laid her head on the same pillow (in the same universe) two nights in a row, and never as long as a whole week. The multiverse continued its terrible cosmic joke, jerking her across realities with no more warning than the cacophonous ticking on her watch's six hands, never stationary for more than a few days. So she booked hotels and ate in restaurants as a rule, and kept herself sane with the best creature comforts money could buy.

Her Seward trunk (now fully sentient, and obnoxiously chatty with its creaking and groaning) was packed with all the clothes, boots, drugs, death rays and other devices she felt inspired to build and nicknacks that struck her fancy. Every inch of the luggage was covered in travel stamps, documenting the (so far) nine hundred and eighty-four universes she had lingered in long enough to enjoy the best they had to offer: fine restaurants, sumptuous hotels, and occasionally company for the night.

She afforded all of this, naturally, with bank robberies.

With exactly three minutes left in this universe before she was ripped away to the next, she stood on her luggage in the middle of the Cabana Resorts Galactic Bank and fired a death ray in the air. Loud and dangerous green bolts zapped through marble columns and glass chandeliers, and almost everyone screamed and ran for cover -- making it far easier to pick out the advancing guard. Evelyn drew first with a second death ray, and he froze.

"Weapons over here, if you please," she said with a devious grin, and he unbuckled his holster and kicked it across the floor to stop at her feet. Then she pointed her first weapon at the tellers.

"Gold and silver bars, precious stones, drop it all in the luggage, please! Thank you for your cooperation in ensuring no one gets vaporized today!"

Public Pavilion Graveside Square
The City of RhyDin
Multiverse Designation Omega-Nine-Nine

Evelyn never did get the full story about why the investors in the failed commuter rail project between RhyDin and Stars End had chosen to build their flagship station in the shadow of the RhyDin Memorial Cemetery, famous for raising the dead at an almost one-to-one ratio with interment. While outbreaks of violent and infectious undeath rarely seemed to emanate from the cemetery, its proximity to the station doomed the project from the start. Investors poured millions into the station, the public pavilion above it and acquisition and renovation of a number of the surrounding townhomes... before the whole thing fell over sideways.

It also meant that the multiverse-bound mad scientist from Citadel had almost complete privacy while she worked on a large machine in the middle of the pavilion: a mock-up of the device that would make it possible to return home -- science willing, she prayed.

Graveside Square took up the entirety of a small neighborhood block, flanked on three sides by rows of townhomes, some abandoned and others so quiet that she wondered if they were abandoned, too. The cemetery was to the east, dozens of rows of marble stones climbing the hill behind her, but Evelyn never paid it much mind. She wasn't very superstitious, and if anything like a ghoul, a zombie or an irate wight crept out at her? She felt confident that her death rays, her dinosaurs or her robots could easily dispatch them.

There was a necromancer, but as far as Evelyn could tell he posed no threat. She had gathered from the neighborhood's few locals that he had once called himself Kravrov the Inexorable, and that immediately after construction of the small dais on one end of the pavilion to serve as a stage for buskers and troubadours and other performers, he had dragged a coffin onto it, knelt behind it and began what might be the multiverse's longest continuous puppet show. The 'puppets' were an arm bone and a leg bone wrapped in grave linens, and he muttered incoherently out of either side of his mouth as he bobbed and waved them at each other. The only attention he ever seemed to give was when Evelyn or Olaf drew too near to the stage, which made him sneer and hiss; otherwise he continued his years-long performance for his invisible audience unabated, regardless of who or what passed through the pavilion.

It was getting later in the evening and Kravrov was in rare form, using the arm bone to scratch a wicked-looking runic tattoo on the small of his back while the other puppet was swung tauntingly at the 'crowd.' Evelyn squinted at him for all of six seconds, rubbed her chilly hands together and asked Olaf, "I wonder what he's saying now?"

Olaf creaked his lid open slightly, then let it thud shut. They'd been fighting all week. In fact, only recently had her luggage? companion? friend? returned from Matadero to help her with the last leg of her experiment, and only grudgingly. He'd said less than ten words to her since.

"I know what I did, and I'm sorry. This has been... Well, it's weird. But if we do this, I think things will be right again."

Olaf creaked his lid open again, much slower than before, and this time emitted a low groan, followed by a wheeze that ejected a number of little black spiders from within.

"That's the spirit, Olaf. We will make this thing work."

The thing appeared to be an overgrown and overcomplicated version of an otherwise ordinary TV antenna in the middle of the square, and Evelyn might have mistaken it for a strange version of the same if she did not know about the underground tables that tied it to a fusion core stored in the deepest tunnel off Graveside Station and sealed behind a thick layer of concrete reinforced with rebar her robots had poured last week. Or the space she had included for an electromagnetically-rifled mega-scale particle beam emitter directly beneath the array.

"Light, please," Evelyn said, and Olaf belched out an electric lantern that was already switched on. She flipped open the composition book in her hand and took careful notes, and then noted the position of the six hands ticking away on her watch. It was almost time.

Well, she had chosen the time herself and could have changed it if needed, but she wanted to see how long it would take her to set up her experiment once the six hands approached the correct position. Her interdimensional device had come equipped with a reset position that would restore her control over the watch that whisked herself and her luggage across the multiverse, but her institute's administrator -- good old Zabbie -- must have switched the setting combination when he had it sabotaged, condemning the entire Bell family to continue carrying out their collective sentence of service to the Galactic Federation when success would have freed them.

While a massive energy pulse was sufficient to reset the device, it had a protection built in against tampering: any such energy pulse when the hands were not set to the correct alignment would simply reflect it into the wearer, almost certainly killing them (as she'd experienced firsthand). And there were literally more than fifty million possible combinations for the hands on her watch, and her ability to move the hands manually had likewise been sabotaged.

However, as fate would have it, she had met a fascinating boy named Desdenova von Tombs, who had insisted on introducing Evelyn to his mother, a time traveler named Pharlen. And Pharlen, after a lengthy discussion about time travel, had taken Evelyn into a presumably isolated space twenty years in RhyDin's past. The experience had stretched her interdimensional device's grasp on its wearer in ways it was not meant to be stretched; in fact it had nearly killed her, but before Pharlen had sensed something was going wrong in Evelyn's head and whisked her back to the present, Evelyn had noticed that the six hands on her watch were in fixed positions.

The reset position.

Evelyn had considered asking to go back in time once more with a device capable of emitting a sufficiently powerful energy pulse, but doing that under the added strain of time travel definitely would have killed her, and may have taken a galactic supercluster's time-stream (or two) down with her in the process. And Evelyn was not in the business of causing mass death on a mind-bogglingly vast scale, no matter what people said about her grandmother.

And besides, in just a few weeks, the hands would come back around to the reset position on their own, and Evelyn would be ready. Hence this experiment, and the copious notes she was taking to send to Pharlen for review. She reached into her coat pocket and produced a remote control with a single shiny red button that looked like candy.

"Ready?"

Olaf groaned, snapping tinted goggles onto his lid as his traveling companion did the same, except over her eyes for lack of a lid.

"Can't see in these things... hope the main event doesn't happen at night, too... anyway. Initiating!"

She pushed the button, and the ground began to vibrate as a low hum filled the tunnels roughly five meters beneath their -- her -- feet. For the first time in years, Kravrov the Inexorable stopped his puppet show and stared not at the ground, but at the stars above, yellowing eyes narrowed with suspicion. Then, on the street corners immediately surrounding the square, the lights on the lamp posts exploded, scattering glass and filament into the street. Olaf groaned, but Evelyn wasn't looking. Instead she was staring at the fake manhole where she had installed the array and a dummy beam emitter.

There were three gauges attached to the final length of heavily insulated cable running from the fusion core underground, coiled next to the array. Each glowed blue when they reached the ideal range, and when the third gauge illuminated, the readings on the first were still steady. Her device hummed, preparing to align itself to what seemed to be a power surge ideally suited for interfacing with it.

This was perfect. She had only to do it again at the right time, and her interdimensional device would be reset. "Yes!" she exclaimed, pumping her fists... and then the power went out, affecting every block adjacent to the square and likely a few others, too. Some lights came back on and others... didn't. People began lighting candles and flashlights, rousing in their homes, calling to one another to find out just what had transpired. It was the most active Evelyn had ever seen the Graveside neighborhood.

"That was unexpected," she said, adjusting her gloves and approaching the array. "Olaf, call Castor and Pollux, put all this away, and make sure they replace the manhole cover."

Olaf groaned an affirmative and with a series of energetic hops made his way around to the other side of the array, disgorging two golden crab-like robots that skittered down the cable, pulling it down with them.

"Yes, you're right. We need to be somewhere other than here when the authorities arrive. Let's make ourselves scarce."

* * *

Exactly five minutes after the localized blackout -- suspicious timing, to say the least -- a Procompsognathus with a Hello Kitty lunchbox tied around her neck sought out Pharlen or the one best able to reach her in the near future at that time. The lunchbox contained one of Evelyn's composition journals, complete with detailed notes on her experiment and a sticky note on the inside cover that read:

Pharlen,
Please review, critique & advise.
Yrs in mad science,
E.A.B.

Basement, the King of Clubs Magic Shop
The City of RhyDin
Multiverse Designation Omega-Nine-Nine

There were a lot of things Bob disliked in this universe; cold days, hot days, Rick, Quinn on every odd day of the year, FOX's attitude towards Joss Whedon shows, broccoli, and et cetera. Seriously, the demicreature's list of dislikes was literally miles long (because, of course, he'd actually written them all down one particularly boring February a few years back).

But towards the top of the list, on the very first page, sandwiched between 'AOL' and 'toe nail clippings', was 'power outages'.

Oh boy did Bob hate power outages. No TV, no Internet, or video games. He couldn't even read comic books unless he used a flash light (which rarely worked, since Rick never remembered to get batteries, all low-tech dweeb that he was). Power outages were so BORING!

AND THERE WAS ONE HAPPENING RIGHT NOW. IN THE MIDDLE OF A S.H.I.E.L.D. MARATHON! HE WAS ON THE LAST EPISODE OF THE FIRST SEASON!!!

HE NEEDED TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED NEXT!

This would not do. Bob needed power. This meant, of course, that Bob was going to have to find out why the power went out and solve it, even if it meant doing one of the other things he really disliked: work.

Bob grabbed his things (which consisted of a Darkwing Duck costume, a lunchbox full of snacks, a non-functional kids magnifying lens, and his Sherlock pipe full of bubble solution) and snuck out of the basement without telling Rick or Quinn where he was going.

He'd get to the bottom of this, oh yes. And then he'd figure out how to fix it and be back to finish S.H.I.E.L.D. before the night was over.

It was only when he got outside and got a good look around that he noticed the strange and scary residual energy spike floating over the Graveside Square a few blocks away. Now, Bob was no expert in dimensional travel or time manipulations (he'd only studied it for the first few billion years of his life before running away to torment other worlds, unlike most of his family who went onto higher education), but he was prettttttty sure someone was mucking around with Mad Science.

Okay. So maybe power outages weren't so bad. This could actually be interesting! Collecting his things, Bob started rolling in that direction to see what he could find.

Arcane Workshop G.A.M.E.
The City of RhyDin
Multiverse Designation Omega-Nine-Nine

Faraday cage? Check. Guy-wires? Check. Salt water and a seagull? Double-check. Which left only one part for Evelyn Augusta Bell's grand invention, after accounting for Pharlen's revisions: a particle beam emitter capable of focusing a blast with enough power to reset her interdimensional device.

Both the power and the emitter would not be a problem: building death rays was a talent that had run in the Bell family for generations. But focusing that power would be a trick. She had managed it at Djinn's Gambit nearly three years ago (and died anyway), but that power source had its own refraction array, and lenses like those took years of work and hundreds of millions of credit to construct to a suitable level of accuracy, meticulously correcting even the tiniest imperfections under an electron microscope.

Which brought Evelyn to an arcane workshop known as G.A.M.E. She stood apart from the flow of traffic streaming to and from the nearby Marketplace, holding up an old newspaper showing a black-and-white picture of an old brick tower bristling with loose-hanging cables, antennas, and clockwork engines that vented what looked like white steam out of copper vents. Lowering the newspaper and looking at the real thing, she saw the steam wasn't white and wasn't steam, instead glittering clouds of arcane residue that dissipated into the atmosphere with long-term side effects she could only begin to guess at.

According to the newspaper article, G.A.M.E. had been contracted to work on focusing crystals for deep mining operations several years ago. Given their potentially deadly applications in the hands of crazy necromancers or mad scientists, the workshop had a security detail out front, consisting of four clockwork automata with nasty-looking mechanical blades and the gnomish engineer who minded them. He had his thumbs in his suspenders and nibbled on his pipe as he stared at Evelyn.

This did not surprise her in the least; she was a sight to behold, a mad scientist with mad hair, black goggles and a long coat with deep pockets. She'd temporarily dyed her hair bright red, the same shade as her lips, and her face was painted goth-white. Her black knee-high boots were laced all the way up to her knees with red skull-patterned ribbon, and she dropped the newspaper in the middle of the street and stalked a path through the crowd to the workshop. She did not look that much like herself at the moment, though anyone who knew her well would say she looked every inch like Evelyn Augusta Bell.

People got out of her way. Long-term residents of RhyDin had a sense for when things might get bad or otherwise insane, while newcomers simply figured that if other people were stepping aside, maybe they should, too. The automata whirred to life at a whistle from the engineer, who hopped off the soda pallet he'd been standing on and began, "Who - ?"

Much as Evelyn liked her own name and introducing herself with it, she didn't answer his question. Instead she snapped her fingers three times, and something big and rectangular underneath a plain gray blanket appeared next to her. She grinned toothily, even as the automata moved to flank her on both sides. "I understand you've recently finished another industrial-grade focusing crystal, and I'd like to make an offer. In cash."

* * *

Jewell had passed the red-headed Evelyn on the street a few minutes prior. The blonde-haired Empress had failed to recognize the mad scientist, her mind elsewhere as she clicked and clacked along the cobblestone street, destination in sight: Fey Findings. It was a small shop just a few doors down from G.A.M.E., filled with odds and ends specifically geared towards magic users. She had visited the shop several weeks ago, offering to procure some rarer items from Faerie for the proprietor. Now she was following up with the wizened old woman while also using the visit to send out feelers into the part of the district closer to the actual marketplace. Little Elfhame along the river was already hers, but with the imminent fall of the Sidhe Syndicate (engineered by the Faerie socialite), she needed friends in place to help her fill the inevitable power vacuum and expand her influence. Domination of a district took a lot of time and mental energy.

She stopped just outside the shop to adjust the collar of her dress, buttons done all the way up to her throat today. There was a big difference between doing business with the scummy men along the docks and a shopkeep like Madame Sullivan. Madame did not like discussing business matters with those she referred to as, ?Hussies!? so Jewell had worn opaque stockings and more sensible heels than the ones she preferred for RhyDin?s active nightlife. She gave a light, fixing touch to her blonde hair, pinned back in a stylish low sweep of curls, before entering the shop to the ring of bells.

* * *

The gnomish engineer squinted through his spectacles at the contents of the blanket-swaddled box beside Dr. Bell: pressed bars and ingots of rare minerals essential in building advanced electronics, totalling some millions of credits in value. It was a lot of money, to be sure, but ultimately the engineer was unmoved. G.A.M.E. had a history of only selling its inventions to trustworthy customers, which kept the kinds of organizations that found technology like death rays concerning from meddling in their business. ?This is all very impressive, madam, but our business operates with the understanding that our clients use our technology responsibly. And should something like an industrial-strength focusing crystal fall into the wrong hands,? he trailed off, looking pointedly at her studded leather gloves.

?I fully intend to use your focusing crystal for science,? Evelyn stressed, opening her hands magnanimously.

?If you knew our founder as well as I do, you?d know I find that argument the exact opposite of persuasive.? The engineer clasped his hands behind his back, smiling not at all pleasantly.

?Oh,? Evelyn said, her face falling. ?I was afraid you?d say that.?

The gnome raised a hand, signaling the automata to stand in front of the heavy workshop door, but his mouth hung open uncertainly as he stared after Evelyn, who snapped her fingers three times, causing the box to vanish, and walked ten paces away. Then she produced a large white tube that looked an awful lot like a bazooka from somewhere inside her long coat, with the words ?GALACTEX BUBBLE-BLASTER 9000? painted on one side in big blue letters, and pointed it at the door. ?You might want to get out of the way,? she informed the engineer, matter-of-factly.

He ran.

Evelyn squeezed the trigger and a torrent of foam and soapy water screamed out of the Bubble-Blaster, short-circuiting the automata and slamming them through the splintering workshop door. She marched into the workshop, priming another charge in the cleaning cannon, and pointed it up in the air, firing three quick blasts before she said:

?Everyone get down and stay down -- I'm here to clean you out!?

* * *

The thunk! produced by the automata slamming into the wooden door a few shops down interrupted the negotiations currently going on within Fey Findings. Jewell turned towards the front window, frowning a touch.

?Don?t worry, Ms. Ravenlock. There are weird sounds coming from some of the workshops around here all the time, you know. Now, what were you saying about those dragon teeth that I need??

?Right,? Jewell said as she slowly turned her attention back to Madame Sullivan. She wasn?t overly eager to go investigate what was actually going on outside. The Empress was a business woman these days, not some vigilante heroine. ?Dragon teeth shouldn?t be a problem at all, Madame. I can even get you items rarer than that if we iron out the details of our other arrangement??

* * *

Unfortunately for Jewell, it wasn?t the last noise Evelyn made during her heist. G.A.M.E.?s engineers were mostly mages, and mages put up more fight than she?d originally planned on. There was the whoosh! and fwoom! and crack! of fireballs and lightning bolts impacting the building, and the roar of the Bubble-Blaster in action as she washed away her opposition.

Soon foam was spilling out of the windows and doorway and into the street, and the dimension-hopping scientist found a sudsy barrier blocking her exit. Something charged up with a shrill whine before blasting out of the shattered doorway with a rippling heat wave, turning bubbles into hissing clouds of steam that Evelyn Augusta Bell marched boldly through into the street, clutching her Galactex Bubble-Blaster 9000 in one hand and a black iron box in the other. The focusing crystal was in hand, and the authorities were nowhere in sight.

Dr. Bell tipped her head back and let out a maniacal laugh, fueled by the rush of the heist and the exhilaration of its success. It looked like nabbing the focusing crystal had gone off without a hitch.

* * *


Urging Madame Sullivan to stay indoors, Jewell stepped outside just as Evelyn marched out of G.A.M.E. with the Bubble-Blaster in one hand and that iron box in the other. She was already annoyed because her conversation with Madame Sullivan had been cut short just when it seemed that the older woman was coming around to the agreement Jewell had proposed; all The Empress would have to do is prove that her budding organization was completely capable of taking care of the people and neighborhoods under its protection.

That probably meant she should do something about the crazy, cannon-wielding doctor in the streets right now.

There was a moment of hesitation though timed perfectly with Evelyn?s maniacal laugh. Couldn't she just turn around and forget she ever saw anything? The doctor was carrying a box made of iron. That should have been enough of a deterrent for the Faerie. Also, this neighborhood didn?t technically belong to her yet. The yet was the sticking point and what forced her, in the end, to take off first her right high heel and then her left as she started down the street. Apparently, she?d have to fight if she wanted this neighborhood to ever be hers. ?Hey!? she called to get the doctor?s attention, glamouring her right high-heel before tossing it Evelyn?s way. Upon impact with the street, it burst into a blinding firework. ?What the hell do you think you?re doing??

The goggles helped shield Evelyn from the fireworks bursting in the street, but it definitely got her attention. She blinked until Jewell came into focus; she recognized her and began to say as much, and then thought better of it. Instead she grinned and held the box aloft. "I'm taking this!" she clarified. "Any other questions? 'Cause I really have to go."

The frankness of her statement caught Jewell off guard. What criminal just admitted to taking things? "You can't just take things that aren't yours!" It was time to put the left shoe to good use. She glamoured it similarly to the first before throwing it overhand, aiming for that iron box that was forcing her to keep her distance at the moment.

"Ow!" Evelyn said -- the shoe was aimed for the box but hit the arm holding it, and she dropped it and made a shocked face at Jewell. "First of all, I need that way more than the Dul-Grakur Mining Conglomerate. Second of all, you (censored)!" she said, at the same moment she turned the Galactex Bubble-Blaster 9000 on Jewell and pulled the trigger.

Without further warning, a torrent of soapy water went roaring across the street at the ambitious fae.

Several years ago, Jewell would have had the last laugh in this situation. A stream of water coming at her? No problem! She simply would have turned it back around, dousing the doctor. Instead, Jewell only got a few steps closer to Evelyn in the moments between her dropping the box and turning the blaster on her. She threw herself to the ground and somersaulted forward, closing the distance between them. When she popped back up, her eyes widened in shock when she recognized Evelyn.

That?s not good. But at least Jewell could not see Evelyn blinking like a deer in headlights behind her dark goggles, before she wound up and punched her in the face. And she didn?t wait long, either; she shouted ?sorry!? and scooped up the iron box and went running away with the cleaning cannon the best that she could.

"Son of a (censored) mother (censored) donkey!" Jewell reeled back a step at that unexpected punch to the face. All those years in the Outback fortunately had her bouncing back quickly. She slammed her left foot into the ground and raised her hands, using glamour to turn the cobblestones into vines, which she sent chasing after Evelyn to trip her up.

"Whoops!" Evelyn leapt, stumbled, pirouetted and fell. The cleaning cannon impacted with the cobblestones heavily, shattering and spilling more soapy water than it should have been physically capable of containing. She still had one arm around the box as she looked up at Jewell defiantly from the street. "It's just a focusing crystal. Why stop me? Why care?" she shot at the Fae.

Jewell moved her hands this way and that, trying to reguide the vines to restrain Evelyn. The presence of that iron box was proving extremely problematic as it withered the vines to dust. Evelyn's questions were equally bothersome. "Oh because I am working on a non-hostile takeover of this neighborhood and you're getting in the effin way!" came to mind but didn't quite work. "Because this is my neighborhood! I can't just let some little nobody--"

" -- use a FREEZE RAY!" Evelyn finished for her, at the same moment she produced a ray gun from her coat pocket and squeezed the trigger. Curse that iron box for withering the vines aimed for her gun hand! With a whiplash of freezing energy, she encased Jewell in ice from the soles of her feet all the way up to her neck.

There were times when a wordless scream of rage worked much better than a string of curses and threats. This was one of those times. And when her scream of rage failed to shatter the ice, Jewell started to thrash about. "I am going to tear you limb from limb!"
Evelyn disentangled herself from the now disempowered vines, and once she had both hands free she flapped one hand at Jewell in a clear 'blah, blah, BLAH!' "You can do that, and have my focusing crystal back, after I'm done."

But as flippant as Evelyn acted, and in spite of the whistling of the Watch officers on their way, she walked over to check on the fae. She placed three fingers to her throat, checking both her pulse and temperature, and decided, "You'll live. They'll crack you free before you could die."

"If you think--!" Jewell began another round of threats as she attempted to throw her weight forward to attack, only managing to knock herself sideways to the ground and shatter some of the ice.

"And that is my cue." Evelyn snapped her fingers three times, and the blanket-swaddled box reappeared beside her. She dropped the smaller iron box inside of it, and checked the six rapidly moving hands on her watch. Perfect timing. "Ta-ta, stranger I have definitely never met before!"

And in a cloud of smoke and bubbles, she vanished.



((Adapted from a scene with the talented and meddlesome Jewell Ravenlock! Also, for anyone who may recognize the G.A.M.E. setting used here, I have permission to use it. ^^))

City Watch Station Occidian Precinct
The City of RhyDin
Multiverse Designation Omega-Nine-Nine

Units of the Watch were as varied across RhyDin as the languages in the streets, but Mordin Moonfire did not care for any of them. Guards asked questions and disliked secrets as a rule wherever he went, and he would never have risked of exposing his secret by agreeing to consult for a precinct full of snooping officers if the one who called herself the Empress had not already taken pains to protect it.

He was a Bargest, transforming into a ravenous black dog by night when his constant dreams of blood and bone crept too far into his waking mind; but more importantly to the Empress he had mastered the art of scrying. By looking through the veil of the dead, he could find men, magic, monsters, and many things that were far worse?

?Progress?? asked the stocky sergeant of the Occidian Precinct, a dwarf whose name Mordin would not bother to remember.

He winced at the interruption, his visions of the veil dissipating and replaced by the flickering darkness mere mortals saw behind their eyelids. ?You?re standing in my light,? he said, meaning the jar of bioluminescent flies he sensed she was looming over and obstructing with her shadow. He did not see her leave, but he heard her huff and muttered slur and the creak of old floorboards as she walked away.

Someone had stolen a focusing crystal, a magical item capable of concentrating vast amounts of power even in the hands of an ungifted mortal. Mordin did not know why the Empress wanted the Watch to recover it so badly and, as someone who revered the sanctity of secrets, he had not asked. But the glowing bugs in the jar and the way they shone on the sea glass scattered across the table, and the way he saw it through the veil, would show him the path to the crystal as soon as its hapless thief sought to access its full potential.

There. A spark of green and blinding white flashed through the screaming mists of the veil, and Mordin opened his eyes to stare at the sea glass that mirrored the city?s districts. He eyed the dwarven sergeant at her desk, currently frowning over her reply to a legal complaint, and seized a quill and a scrap of parchment of his own. The terms of his consulting contract with the Occidian Precinct prevented him from disclosing any details of an ongoing investigation, but such indiscretions were expected in his service to the Empress.

That he would be committing them against the Watch was simply the icing on the cake, as he had heard the round-eared mortals put it.

E.,
The mortal tested it again v. near graveyard. Will know more soon.
M.

?I?m going out for a smoke,? he informed the officers, two of whom glowered at him; the rest ignored him. He shouldered out the alleyway door behind the precinct and packed his rune-stamped clay pipe with tobacco and the note, carefully shredded, and lit it. The ink and parchment attacked his throat on the first draw and he muffled a cough, forcing himself to blow the smoke out smoothly where part of it lingered over his head. By the time he was done, a little black cloud was drifting around the outskirts of the Marketplace towards Little Elfhame, determined to rematerialize on the desk of the Empress herself.

((Cross-posted here, and part of the machinations that started here - thanks, Jewell!))

Public Pavilion Graveside Square
The City of RhyDin
Multiverse Designation Omega-Nine-Nine

The neighborhood near the RhyDin Cemetery was often empty and especially when it got dark, but this was worse than normal. A heavy electrical humming sound filled the air, rattling windows and making people's hair stand on end as building currents of power drifted invisibly through the air. It was enough for most of the street vendors to pack up their wares early, and the usual small gathering of performers, revelers, street toughs and prostitutes to take their business someplace else. In fact the only person on the main street to the cemetery at this hour had a small wooden cart bursting with tropical fruit, and was shooing a juvenile triceratops wearing a parka and a Harry Potter blanket for a saddle who kept angling her head to try and snap her beak around another pineapple. "Shoo! Shoo!"

She had a big pink collar with black spikes, and a leash attached that what looked like a glowing blue Roomba was tugging on in vain, trying to hurry them away from the Graveside Square and towards the (relative) safety of their new home.

Jewell slowly made her way through the sidestreets of Old Temple, approaching the cemetery area with members of the Occidian Precinct. It had been many years since she had play any part in such an operation, but she knew enough to leave the pretty girl dresses and high heels at home. Ishmerai had begged her not to go, but when Mordin had revealed that Evelyn was stirring up trouble right on the border of Old Temple? It was just too perfect! "As the Squire of Old Temple, it is my obligation to intervene," she had insisted.

Unfortunately, joining with the Watch on this mission meant enduring Sergeant Scrump, the stocky dwarf in charge. He was hardly stealthy and his people were barely competent. When they spotted the triceratops being shoo'd down the street, a general rumble rippled over the dozen officers gathered in two opposite alleyways.

One of the younger officers, terrified upon seeing the dinosaur despite its outrageous garb, fumbled with his firearm and ended up shooting the brick wall just over Jewell's head.

"Of all the flowers that grow!" the Empress hissed at him.

The triceratops loved pineapples, but not as much as she loved not getting shot. The fruit vendor screamed and dove behind his cart, the dinosaur brayed and tugged loose from her leash and went running home as fast as her heavy legs could take her, and the poor robot whistled in terror as it went spinning away into an alleyway, smashing into a pile of trashcans and scattering garbage.

"Look what you did!" Jewell screamed at the officer who had shot his gun prematurely.

Apparently, not everyone shared her ire. "Occidians, go go go!" Sergeant Scrump shouted, waving on his officers in the opposite alleyway. "There's a dangerous monster on the loose!" With his stumpy legs, he lead the charge of his own unit, chasing after the dinosaur. Jewell bit her tongue, tempted to abandon the whole mission, but she would not let some little upstart sergeant take her glory! It was not hard to catch up with the group, supple leather boots pounding against the cobblestones.

Evangeline was fast, but they could still follow the trail of smashed newspaper stands, upended trashcans and one very frightened cat to Graveside Square, a recently constructed brick-lined square that was as empty as the rest of the neighborhood. It may have had something to do with the commanding view it had of RhyDin's vast cemetery, or the ominous entrance to an abandoned subway station nearby.

Or the filthy old necromancer babbling incoherently on the square's public stage, with two femurs and grave linens as 'puppets' he waved around. Or the scientist nearby, kneeling on the ground next to the triceratops, and behind them a great steel monstrosity with cables running through several holes drilled in the ground that looked suspiciously like a death ray. It hummed with the promise of a power, undoubtedly the source of the disturbance in the neighborhood, but Evelyn was ignoring it.

She had her goggles snapped back into her hair and was rubbing the triceratops' jaw. "Evangeline, what are you doing here?" she cooed. "You should be with Sal. What's got you scared, sweetheart? What's scared you?"

Twelve watch officers desiring commendation, a sergeant dreaming of promotion, and an Empress looking to establish her kingdom were hott on Evangeline's trail. The closer they got, the further Strump fell behind, his officers passing around him. Jewell fell back, laying her hand upon his shoulder. "Sergeant, I strongly suggest you and your men halt here for a moment. Allow me to examine the situation." She could feel the power rumbling through the neighborhood now, and she was a bit weary of any person (mad scientist or not) that commanded a dinosaur.

"Nonsense!" Strump shrugged away the lady's hand. What did she know? She was just some socialite along for the ride, trying to steal his front page news feature. "Men, I want you to spread out and take the square!"

"No! Hold back.. get into position first!"

It was no use. None of them were listening to the petite Faerie in their midst as they charge straight away into the square--ignoring death ray, dinosaur, and necromancer--with their short sergeant running behind them, removing the small axe from his side. The weapon didn't even look like it could cut wood.

Evelyn wasn't sure what scared her more: guns in competent or incompetent hands. She looked over her shoulder and cursed the fact that the focusing crystal was housed out in the open, rotating slowly in the end of the massive device that was angled forty-five degrees at the sky over the cemetery. As the Watch officers spread out, she stood and held her hands out to either side, showing that both of them were empty -- though her left thumb and forefinger were together, ready to snap. It also put her between these idiots and Evangeline, who was still stamping and huffing nervously, swinging her horned head side to side.

"What's the meaning of this?" she said, raising her voice as the officers spread out. "I am running a scientific experiment in a square intended for public use. I am well within my rights!"

The Watch members quickly formed a half-circle around Evelyn, an assortment of weapons--guns and crossbows mainly to ensure they had working firearms in every neighborhood--aimed at her. Jewell was a little more cautious, lingering a few steps behind them. Her hands, like Evelyn's, were currently empty, but she was eyeing the scientist carefully. There would be no more Freeze Ray repeats this evening!

"You ma'am," Strump shouldered his way between two of the officers, "are under arrest! You are being charged with theft of a focusing crystal and endagering the citizens of RhyDin with.." he blinked, narrowing his eyes to examine the death ray, "with that machine!" He cleared his throat, "Surrender now. We don't wish to hurt you."

Evelyn was not a good liar! But she had to play for time. The six hands on her wristwatch gave another decisive tick as the cycles got faster and faster, approaching the reset position. "Machines aren't against the law just because they look big and scary," she countered, "but about that first charge. What focusing crystal?"

As she talked, her hands open, she edged one small step after another towards a monitor next to the base of the massive device. It was illuminated with what literally looked like Greek, green letters flashing across a black touchscreen. Evangeline stamped again and swung her head suspiciously at one of the approaching officers. "Shhh, shhh," Evelyn murmured at her.

If only Strump knew what a focusing crystal was! Jewell did, but she was keeping stubbornly quiet for the moment. Coming up behind one young officer, who seemed to be holding some type of flame thrower, she kept pace with Evelyn's movements, attempting to see what the woman was up to.

"Look lady, I'm not here to argue with you. Help us restrain that monster of yours and then we can all take a quiet trip down to the station together." His fingers tightened on his axe handle as he said this, seemingly more eager for a fight than a quiet walk down to the precinct. It wouldn't even be a difficult fight, no more than a scuffle he was sure.

When Evelyn took another step closer to the monitor, Jewell finally stepped forward. Pushing an officer out of the way, she shouted in a voice that actually commanded attention (unlike poor Strump): "Evelyn, stop!"

Unfortunately, she startled flame thrower guy, who shot a sudden burst of fire at the ground. In other circumstances, the following chain reaction would have been comical. Instead, it was rather horrific because the two officers surrounding flame thrower guy shot off their own weapons (a gun and cross bow respectively) as the fire lit up the night.

Two things happened at once: Evelyn took advantage of the chaos and simply touched the monitor, and the focusing crystal shot out of the end of the massive ray -- hovering twenty feet up in the air above the pavilion, spinning in place.

The second thing that happened was Evangeline started bucking and braying. The flash of fire, the bullet and bolt whizzing through the air, all of it was too much for the already terrified triceratops. Evelyn pushed off from the monitor, blindly shoving a Watch officer as she snatched at the dinosaur's leash. "Hey! HEY! Easy, girl, easy!" Evangeline staggered and turned around to face her owner, keening uncertainly as her tail lashed an officer in the middle, sending him flying through the air.

Most of them were scared. Most of them didn't want to take on a triceratops with a crossbow or a saber or a dull axe. But two of those still standing and not panicking had firearms, and they opened fire on Evangeline's side.

"NO!" Evelyn screamed as the triceratops broke free to charge them, and two more shots had her stumble and fall onto her side. She thrashed violently, trying to gain purchase with her tail and legs as the blood pooled out, and one of the officers advanced, saber drawn, to put her down.

But Evelyn wasn't watching anymore. Tears streaming down her face but fury written all over it, she stalked towards the two officers, snapping her fingers three times. A Seward trunk appeared beside her, and he flipped his lid open and a hand-sized death ray flipped through the air. She caught it and fired several shots into the officers, who screamed and fell as stun-bolts caused their muscles to spasm. "You stay away from Evangeline!" she said, pointing widely as she put herself in front of the dinosaur's wounded belly. "All of you! Stay the hell back!"

Jewell felt like she was going in slow motion as the scene descended into chaos around her. She had been intently watching that focusing crystal, trying to think of a way to disable the death ray (while technology had never been her strong point), but she turned as the Evangeline started thrashing and the one officer began to advance.

She didn't have a death ray hidden in her jacket, but she pulled out a knife as she pushed past a retreating officer--a young man who wet himself as one of his friends fell victim to Evelyn's death ray--and actually slashed at another one. "Stay back you fools! Do as she says!"

The Empress stopped short of Evelyn, valuing her own life but someone had to take charge of this circus! Strump had disappeared in the chaos, hiding under the body of a fallen officer, while those not hurt had scattered to the far ends of the square. "Evelyn... that shouldn't have happened, but I need you to stand down."

"Why did you do this, Jewell?!" Evelyn demanded, eyes wide and hysterical as she whirled on her. "What do you gain from any of this? What do you gain from that?" she screamed, throwing her hand out at Evangeline bleeding on the ground. "I just want to go home."

Jewell knew loss. She knew that look on Evelyn's face. How often had she worn it on her own? The whole scene pricked at her conscience. "Look, Evelyn. I'm sorry! That wasn't supposed to happen, but we can fix it. You can shut the machine off and we can get her," gesturing the Evangeline, "to a healer. I just need you to--"

Crack. One of the stunned officers fired a flintlock, and Evelyn staggered with the impact. The death ray fell from her hands, and as she tripped backwards Olaf was there to break her fall, flapping his lid open to catch her. Blood dribbled from her mouth as she slumped down slowly.

The gun went off. "No," Jewell whispered, taking a step forward towards Evelyn as she fell. Then she pivoted on her heel, glaring at the officer who fired: "You mother (censored) monster! You were supposed to arrest her, not kill her!"

If it wasn't so tragic, if Evelyn wasn't bleeding to death, if her dinosaur wasn't bleeding to death, Jewell would have pulled her hair in frustration. Instead, she threw her knife at the officer, hoping she would at least hit him in the foot, before rushing to Evelyn's side.

Between the muscle spasms and the knife sticking in his foot, that officer was out of the fight for good. His recovering comrade scowled at Jewell as he stumbled to his feet, but did nothing else as he dragged the other away by his arms.

Evelyn parted her bloody lips, trying to form words as she looked at Jewell, and struggled to look over her shoulder back at Olaf, smearing a bloody hand across the travel stamps that covered him. Then her head fell, the life going out of her open eyes.

((Adapted from a scene with Jewell Ravenlock's player! Thanks! More coming tonight!))

Safe Haven Matadero
The City of RhyDin
Multiverse Designation Omega-Nine-Nine

Olaf appeared in the middle of the great room, tumbling down the great spiderweb he'd built there two weeks ago and hitting the floor with a thud. This was Matadero, Sal's place, in RhyDin... but where is Evelyn?

The luggage had no eyes but could still see what was around him, and sense his companion's presence at all times, and she was not here. She had changed since her death, and Matadero's wards must have rebuffed her. They'd been split up teleporting into RhyDin. So then she had to be back at the Square, with Evangeline and Jewell and the great cosmic gods only knew how many Watch officers. She was going to save Evangeline, and then...

A wave of panic flowed through Olaf, overwhelming him, and he flapped his lid open and let out a mighty groan. Doc Martens and death rays and two whole watermelons tumbled out as he rocked side to side, trying to make his way to the door as fast as he could.

He was slow, but maybe he could reach her. Maybe she wouldn't have to do this. Maybe he could stay awake. He found the front door, trailing yarn behind him, rocked backwards and launched himself up, hitting the knob once. He rocked back to launch himself again...

...and went still, settling flat on the floor, a final thought reaching his mind before sleep took him: Evelyn.

Old Market Prison The Tower of Gulshan
The City of RhyDin
Multiverse Designation Omega-Nine-Nine

Following a phonecall between Cane and Sal...

The Tower of Gulshan stood on the west side of the Old Market district, a round sandstone spire with ornamented windows and hanging rose brambles that recalled Ancient Mesopotamia. It was over a hundred feet tall, originally constructed as a lighthouse and watchtower for a lavishly wealthy shipping company that sold the whole structure to the local Watch when they uprooted from RhyDin. Since then it had been converted into a prison, the brambles grown out to be sharper and thicker, deterring would-be prison breakouts from the windows and the thorn-covered roof where the Watch housed their worst offenders -- or those they were most concerned about escaping.

The barracks, armory, and interrogation room were all on the first two stories, as well as Sergeant Viarnn's office where Cane now stood, determined to discover what had happened to Evelyn Augusta Bell, why they were keeping her in the Tower of Gulshan, and as many details on the prison's security as possible on his way in and out.

The woman who owned the office stood right across the room from him: she had light blue skin and six short black horns along her brow. She wasn't the only one of her kind in RhyDin, but she was one of a few, though she regarded Cane as if he were just as strange, assessing every detail as she moved a lip ring with the tip of her tongue. "Mr. Devillier." The front desk had probably noted her of the visit through magical means. "What's this in regard to?" She motioned him to a thick block of wood in front of her desk, though she did not sit, moving to adjust the oil lamps ensconced on the walls of her windowless office, lengthening the flame.

Though Cane's body language and easy smile gave little away, he did not sit down just yet. Instead he gripped the back of a chair on which he leaned. "It's 'bout an investigation y'alls workin' on. Friend 'a mine was told t'ru text ta come down here if she had any information 'bout... Evelyn Bell."

Viarnn paused, smiled faintly and looked up at Cane. "What do you know about Miss Bell, and what she intended to do on the evening of Friday, January the 27th?" She leaned her hands on the table to look at him much the same way he looked at her. "Whatever it was, there is a heist and a lot of injured officers she has to answer for."

Canaan exhaled an amused breath, but managed to pass it off with some measure of a surprised expression. "Well, I don' know not'in 'bout her intentions, but I know Evelyn. She wouldn' be tryin' ta hurt people. Now... word 'roun' Old Market is someone shot a dinosaur fer no reason. Rampagin' dinosaurs usually tend ta cause injuries."

"Mr. Devillier," the Sergeant said carefully, narrowing her eyes to glare at him. "If Miss Bell wasn't trying to hurt anyone, why did she use a water cannon on a civilian trying to stop her from stealing a dangerous arcane artifact? Why did she use that artifact to operate a particle beam capable of generating incredible destructive power? And why did she let this dangerous... 'dinosaur' rampage on the loose? Can you answer any of these questions?"

"A water cannon ain' gon' do shit. Evelyn don' jes' go 'round killin' folk." There was a muffled click that emanated from between Cane's clenched jaws. "All I know is Evelyn jes' wants ta get home. If she stole anytin', it was jes' ta help help 'er find a way home. She ain' doin' anyt'in nefarious wit' whatever you's talkin' 'bout. Girl jes' wants ta leave." He sighed, looking down. "Evelyn's dinosaurs is tame, ma'am, so if it did anytin' untoward, dat's on y'all. People was watchin', ya know. Everyt'in' dat happened dat night's on y'all."

"Where is home, and how did she intend to get there?" Sergeant Viarnn pressed, ignoring the question of who was more to blame for this situation. An internal investigation would hold Occidian Precinct accountable for its part in this debacle; she was responsible for Evelyn's part.

"Out dere?" The Cajun made a vague gesture toward a window, but clearly he did not mean RhyDin. "I don' know. She's from anot'er universe. Stuck travelin' da multiverse wit' 'er only way 'a gettin' back busted. As fer how... hell if I know. Truly, I don'. Half da time she talks, I don' understand what's comin' out' dat woman's mouth. She had ta fix it somehow. Whatever was goin' down, dat's all she was tryin' ta do. Fixin' what was busted."

"Then I find it curious that she turned herself in, after all was said and done," Viarnn replied carefully. "Or... someone very much like her. Can you describe Miss Bell for me?"

"It's prolly 'cause y'all fuckin' shot her goddamn pet!" Irritated, the Cane released the chair and folded his arms across his chest. While taking a few calming breaths, the Cajun ran the tip of his tongue along his lower lip, eyes closed. When he looked up again, it was with less abject disapproval in his eyes. "Y'all must'a killed 'er." Both eyebrows lifted after a moment and he shook his head.

"According to witness accounts, after her 'dinosaur' went on a rampage and was shot, she opened fire on officers with some kind of energy weapon." The sergeant blinked slowly. "Usually when a suspect does that, officers shoot back." Her patience was beginning to wear. "Do you have any useful information to offer on Miss Bell, Mr. Devillier?"

Cane didn't answer her, asking a question instead. "Can I see 'er?"

Sergeant Viarnn stared at him for a beat. Then she called to the door: "Guard. See this gentleman escorted off the premises."

The Cajun's teeth slid together and he swallowed a disgruntled noise, arms unfolding. "I answered yer fuckin' questions. An' ya really ain' gon' lemme see 'er?"

The door opened, the same guard from before moving to Cane's side, and Viarnn raised her eyebrows. "We are under no obligation to see to our prisoners' social lives. We have room for you, if you'd prefer that instead."

"I ain' done not'in wrong. But'cha can--" The sentence cut off abruptly for a hastily sucked in breath. Though he glowered at Viarnn, Canaan clamped his mouth shut and lowered his chin in a most careful, singular nod of the head. Then he swept out of the room while mentally repeating Salvador's instructions not to do anything stupid.


((Adapted from live play with the wonderful Canaan Devillier, with thanks! Note: the text messages and phone transcript starting with this message and following provide excellent context for this post and the events that will follow.))

Artificial Planetoid Citadel
The Galactic Federation
Multiverse Designation Kappa-Nine-Five

Zabrix blinked six eyes in slow succession at his reflection in the face of Evelyn Augusta Bell?s six-handed watch. ?It is beautiful,? he sighed, and lowered the lid on the lockbox; the magnetic lock promptly purred back to life, pulling the lid tight to the box and the box tight to the steel pedestal in the center of the chamber. ?I am a little saddened I won?t get to oversee prototype verification personally.?

Inspector Imbrada lifted her chin, regarding the overworn administrator haughtily. ?Have you grown soft for science? Will you miss academia so badly??

Zabrix blinked only his inner eyes at her, feigning surprise at the affront. ?Not at all. But this research will advance both the reach of the Galactic Federation and the strength of my new corporate assignment. I am only sentimental about the fruits of my labor from putting the worst of the Bells to useful work, and I would love to personally see it proven genuine.?

?We as good as know it?s genuine already,? the Inspector sighed at the ceiling, and motioned Zabrix out into the corridor after her; with an obedient little bob, he followed. ?Preliminary analysis of the quantum computer shows dimensional coordinates for a thousand and one different universes, and countless other signatures. Whoever sent this watch back to the Institute has seen more than you and I ever will.?

?It had to be Evelyn Augusta?s handiwork,? he insisted as he followed her onto the skywalk where she paused to look out at the research facilities that filled Citadel?s narrow horizon. He intertwined his clawed fingers back and considered the stars above instead. ?No one else would have knowledge or cause to send it here.?

?You admired her.?

?Hardly,? Zabrix sighed again. ?The fact that I will never have to set eyes on a Bell again is not lost on me. Speaking of which. Will the Federation really be commuting their sentence?? Just one of his six eyes turned to the side to look at her. ?I heard you had struck a deal with Evelyn Augusta for an interdimensional device??

?I hope you?re not still sour about losing another researcher for the family business. Time travel is so pass?.? When Zabrix opened his mouth to protest, the Inspector cut him off: ?The Bell family?s collective service will not extend to future generations, while current generations will conclude priority projects and remain on-call for the foreseeable future.?

?Not that I have seen the text of your contract, of course -- ?

?Of course, Administrator; that would be illegal.?

? -- but I had heard those were not the terms of the deal.?

?I?d say they?re free to sue me,? the Inspector replied smilingly as she stepped off the skywalk, ?but we both know they aren?t free in the least.?

Artificial Planetoid Citadel
The Galactic Federation
Multiverse Designation Kappa-Nine-Five

Inspector Imbrada was not returning any of the calls placed by Evelyn's "uncle" or either of her parents since he'd felt the device enter this universe. A number of Citadel's advanced translocational contracts were suddenly canceled, without explanation, and their top physicists recalled from all over this galaxy and even one from an extragalactic outpost. Security around the Translocational Institute was doubled overnight, and shuttles arrived using an authorization code exclusive to the Galactic Federation Executive Service. The Bells may have been bound to lifetimes of research and invention, but each of them spared the attention of their brilliant minds to the events transpiring around Citadel, deciphering codes and analyzing every detail that could be gleaned.

Based on this information, they were certain that the interdimensional device the family's most promising scientist had disappeared with three years ago had finally returned, and that the terms of the deal she had struck with Imbrada for their collective freedom had been met. And apparently, as their service to the Federation continued unabated (and as Griffin Aloysius Bell verified with a series of jumps into the future of this timeline), the Inspector was not holding up her end of the bargain. For she had forgotten one very important fact:

The Bells were not to be ****ed with.

Griffin Aloysius Bell stood in the quad between undergraduate dormitories facing the Translocational Institute's Research Annex six days after Evelyn returned the device to Citadel. He was dressed in the white jumpsuit and black-and-red badge of a Citadel maintenance technician, and wore his seven-handed wristwatch. He heard it tick significantly and raised it for a closer (and rather nostalgic) look.

"One last journey, old friend -- you can't go where we're going."

He loosened and spun the crown, twitching the hands backwards until fifteen years had passed, to the day Citadel's artificially engineered atmosphere was declared completely breathable and the final phase of construction could begin. He looked up at a starry sky filled with floating cargo containers and descending shuttles, looked down at the skeleton of girders and walkways that would become the Research Annex, and walked forward.

Griffin had experienced at least sixty-one consecutive years, but he had remained healthy and spry enough for adventure throughout his time-hopping life; he was deadly with a rapier, gifted as an acrobat, and a skilled hand at skee ball. He climbed four floors of scaffolding faster than a Xambrian cyber-monkey, landed on a thin steel walkway, and paused to wipe a thin sheen of sweat from his brow with a fine silk handkerchief produced from his jumpsuit's back pocket.

Then he counted steps with one hand and girders with the other, stopping in front of two blue lines of paint on a steel frame that indicated the future placement of a doorway. "Perfect," he said, and twisted the crown on his watch forward.

It was now four days after the return of Evelyn's watch, and minutes until the arrival of Inspector Imbrada to inspect it with Administrator Zabrix. The thin steel walkway became a complete corridor around him, adjacent to a skywalk offering a breathtaking view of the stars. He ignored the view -- his gaze lingering only long enough to notice a maintenance technician taking a smoke break on the skywalk -- and proceeded into a chamber with a steel pillar, a lockbox, and disconnected wiring for a magnetic lock.

There was Evelyn Augusta Bell's six-handed watch, which gave another significant tick the moment Griffin Aloysius Bell laid eyes on it. "You know what's coming, too," he observed, and smiled as he stepped forward to examine it up close, scooping it into his hand and running his thumb along the face. Evelyn was a better teacher, and a better sudent, than any he had ever known or would ever know.

Now for his watch. He pulled the crown loose -- too loose -- and twisted it carefully, getting traction with two similarly sized hands and locking them together. Then he tapped a tiny, pinhead-sized button on the back sixty-three times in a carefully measured sequence, tilting his head to listen to the approaching footsteps of the maintenance technician just outside.

"Okay, that should keep them busy for a while," he breathed. He set his watch within the lockbox, took up Evelyn's, strapped it on, twisted the crown, pushed it in -- and vanished.

"Hello?" said the technician as he stepped into the doorway, looking left and right around the chamber. No sign of the noises he thought he had heard. Then he stepped up to the steel pillar, connected the disconnected wiring, and closed it carefully behind a panel. He lifted his wrist radio to his mouth:

"Okay, Shin. It's Jimbo. Tell ol' Zabby the thing 's ready for inspection."

Old Market Prison The Tower of Gulshan
The City of RhyDin
Multiverse Designation Omega-Nine-Nine

The Tower of Gulshan was almost too beautiful to be a prison, a flawless sandstone tower crowned with roses that bloomed in the middle of a hard winter; but the brambles that grew from them formed the perfect cage, and the magic that fueled them the perfect lock.

The front gate was lowered, and the two guards had their spears crossed in front of the spiked iron bars. At the moment they wanted to give the impression that this prison was accepting no visitors without saying it, which was a good sign they were not allowed to say it; it was also a good sign that either the guards had an alternate, secret means of coming and going from the tower, unless their shifts lasted literally forever.

Being out and about had Sabine feeling a little edgy. After being inside for several days and going through her own traumatic experiences, she was unsure if she was ready to be around people, but so far she had done well, so she ventured out in the hopes that she could handle herself and also somehow help Evelyn.

Approaching the prison, she tilted her head back and looked up, marveling at the structure, and tried to decide if her approach was the best one. No doubt the men at the gates were not weak, easily swayed, nor human. Not in this city. It did not, however, stop Sabine from putting on a dress that was form fitting and flattering, heels, and even a touch of makeup. Certainly looking nice couldn't hurt her case.

Walking up to the guards, she dipped her head in greeting and smiled nervously. "I am here to visit a prisoner. Can you direct me to the correct entrance for visitors?" Her tone was quiet and sweet.

The guards made a judgment call based on her appearance. They cut a look aside to each other, nodded and raised their spears. A few moments later the front gate rolled up to admit the visitor. The guards said nothing, but the path to a brazier-lit stone desk in front of a narrow spiral staircase was clear.

One figure sat behind it; another, a woman with a sergeant's insignia on her armor, was leaned against it and smoking a blend of tobacco and moss from a clay pipe.

A hint of surprise registered on her face as the men let her though with little effort on her part. "Thank you both. Have a good day." The words were almost sing-song sweet and she glided on through beneath the rolling gate. Her heels clicked against the stone pathway, echoing loudly in her own ears.

At the stone desk, she dipped her head to the woman. Oh, she looks tough, Sabine thought. "Hello, I am here to inquire about visiting with a prisoner. Do you handle those inquiries?" She did her best to look polite, well meaning, and of course very innocent. Her wide eyes and full mouth aided her in looking all of the above, especially the innocent part.

"I'm Sergeant Viarnn," the woman said, the guard behind the desk shutting his mouth at a look from the sergeant. "Who the **** are you that you have a right to see my prisoners?" Cold eyes looked Sabine over, sizing her up.

"Oh, I'm a nobody really Sergeant Viarnn, just a concerned friend. I only wish that I could be like you, the Sergeant of the Prison? The Tower of Gulshan? That is quite an accomplishment, ma'am, if you don't mind my saying. Job well done, truly. Especially in a city as sexist as this one. It's really hard for us women to rise to the powerful positions we deserve." Her smile stayed pleasant as she spoke and she did her best to maintain eye contact while speaking in a flattering tone.

"A prisoner is a prisoner. I'm certain your judgement is flawless. I only wish to see my friend so that I can try to understand her errant ways. Where did we go wrong, I wonder?" She clicked her tongue. "I'm glad we have someone like you to keep the streets clean and safe. Maybe together we can rehabiliate the miscreants who end up here."

Sergeant Viarnn raised her eyebrows, the little black horns lining her brows quivering slightly. She folded her arms. Then she said, "Stuff your flattery and get the **** out of my prison. It's not a hotel. Prisoners don't get visits."

Well, it had been worth a shot. She had imagined that when Cane tried he had likely been a bit brisk. Apparently honey didn't work with this bee either. So, Sabine would try logic and the law. Thankfully she had spoken to a lawyer and done some reading early Monday.

"Actually, Sergeant," Sabine began with a saccharine sweet smile. "The prisoners do get visits. I have spoken with Jericho Stiles of Gerishon, Stiles, and Stark. He has brought it to my attention that according to section five, line eight of the laws that govern this prison, prisoners are entitled to supervised visits. So, shall I call Mr. Stiles to come down or can we resolve this matter here and now?" She held up her phone.

Viarnn's face hardened. She unsheathed a knife at her belt and growled guttural words in an unrecognizable language, shoving off from her lean, but the guard behind the desk was up in an instant, catching her middle with one arm. The sergeant shoved him away but desisted, sheathing the blade and storming out through the front gate.

"Osira!" the man behind the desk called, and a guard emerged from the nearby barracks. "Escort to the upper stories." He looked back at Sabine, taking up a quill and paper. "Your name for the record, please."

Sabine didn't even flinch when Viarnn unsheathed the blade; it had almost seemed slow to her eyes as she tracked the movement and yawned somewhere in the middle of it happening. Patting her mouth, she waited patiently.

"Excellent. I knew that I'd come to an understanding with someone here." She smiled to the guard who called for Osira. "Sabine Gabrielle here for Doctor Evelyn Bell."

The guard behind the desk made a face at the name, and the heavy beaded bracelets on either wrist clicked significantly, but he took note of this and nodded to Osira, who said, "This way, ma'am."

He walked carefully up the spiral stairs, leading her to a room with two uncomfortable stone seats and a heavily scarred table. There were faded red stains on the table, the walls and the floor. Osira didn't bat an eye at any of it, merely adding to Sabine, "She'll be here momentarily."

Silently, she followed behind Osira and took a seat in the room where she was lead. "Thank you, Osira." Using the name she had heard him called by. Looking around, she stared at the bloodstains and her nose twitched and wrinkled. Briefly, she bristled as she caught a familiar scent and let her mind go wild with thoughts of what horrors could be going on in this prison. The sclera of her eyes started to darken when she did start to feel worked up and she did her best to brief out of her mouth and not through her nose and to focus on something other than the red.

Sabine got something new in the form of Evelyn, a black bag over her head, dragging her feet as if in a trance as a hooded figure led her by the shoulder from behind. Osira took hold of Evelyn, dragging her to a seat and removing the bag: her face was different than what Sabine remembered, yet similar enough to definitely be her. She stared blankly at the table as the hooded mage stepped outside, shutting the door as he murmured a spell. Evelyn blinked awake, dimly registering Osira walking away to stand by the door, spear at the ready.

Sabine's head turned towards the door and she gasped when she saw Evelyn come in with a bag over her head. Osira received a shocked look from Sabine and she reproved him with her eyes, even if they held no weight with him.

"Is that really necessasary?!" Sabine called out as the mage stepped outside. Looking to Evelyn, she studied her for a moment; it was her, but she was different. Then again, so was Sabine. Evelyn was not aware of the changes she had undergone, and for now she kept her hair covering her pointed ears in an effort to not distress Evelyn nor make her more weary.

Evelyn looked back at Sabine, disbelieving. Lips parted, then pursed together in a skeptical frown. The young woman before her looked bright-eyed and pale and somehow more predatory than Evelyn remembered. Her brow wrinkled. This deserved a test. "What cartoon did we watch after we ****ed?" she asked bluntly.

At the door, Osira choked on his own spit, coughing loudly.

"Cartoon?" Sabine asked incredulously. She wanted to talk about cartoons? "We watched Powerpuff Girls." She shook her head. "Are you okay? Shit. Of course you're not okay."

"Sabine," Evelyn breathed, allowing herself to believe now that it was not a trick, lips curling into a smile. Now that was a rare thing. "You're the first friendly face I've seen since I died. How's Olaf? How are my dinosaurs? How are you, and all of my friends?" she asked, the questions tumbling out one after another.

She looked exhausted. There were no bruises and cuts visible on her exposed arms or on her face, but there was a telling gingerness to the way she moved. The strict nature of this prison was taking a harsh toll and early.

"You died?!" Sabine tried to keep ehr voice quiet but was obviously shocked. "That's why you look different." A hand pressed to her mouth. "Cane tried to get to you, they wouldn't let him in. But everyone is aware of your situation and we're going to find a way to clear your name." That was her way of saying, 'break you out of here.' "Cane and Sal are looking into, um... the legalities." Follow along, Evelyn. "I think the dinosaurs are good, they are at Sal's. Olaf has been, well, he's been a trunk. Just a regular trunk, but then he left. I'm sorry I don't know the details very well, I've been... busy. But as far as I know, everyone is good. We're all good, just missing you."

Looking her over, Sabine searched for any signs of abuse or hurt. "How are you? Really? Is there anything I can do for you?"

"He became normal," Evelyn said, nodding, "but then he...?" Her surprise was obvious. She glanced at Osira, watching him frown at them for a beat, and shook her head. She was afraid to go into more detail, afraid of what she might betray.

"It's weird, sleeping so high up," she said very casually. "I'm not sure how high, though." They don't let me know where my cell is. "Just... keep consulting with lawyers. Don't do anything until you've built a solid case." This prison will be tough to break. "I can hang in there 'til then, now that I know I have a lawyer."

"I'm not sure how high you are. They said something about upper stories," Sabine told her unhelpfully. "I can arrange a meeting with your lawyer if you would like. Maybe he can at least get some details from you and help us to build your case. There are so many unknowns right now." She shook her head. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner." Clearing her throat, she thought about something. "So you have been sleeping. That's good. Do you dream, Evelyn?"

That gave Evelyn pause, but she didn't look back at Osira. If sleep was important, she didn't want them knowing it was something they should interrupt. "Always," she said casually, and managed a grin as she knocked on the side of her head. "Too much going on up here not to. Maybe I can dream up a good lawyer."

"We've got you a good lawyer. You don't have to dream one up." Sabine tried to keep her tone light. "You should always dream, so keep at it. Happy thoughts," she added, trying to give nothing away. "Dream of all of us together again and having fun, of Sal and Cane. Of me... of Aoife." Her eyes narrowed and her pupils seemed to diliate like an exclamation point at the end of the girl's name. "It'll make you feel better, I think." Nothing could make her feel better, Sabine was sure, but she was trying to be extra careful.

"I'll arrange for Mr. Stiles, the lawyer I've spoken with, to come see you as soon as he is available. See if you like him, if you think he will work, and he can relay information to me once you've signed a waiver."

Evelyn was a very clever woman, like Sabine; she understood perfectly, or at least as well as she could have. "Right." She started to reach her hands across the table, but Osira thumped his spear and she withdrew them at once. No contact. "Thank you for everything, Sabine," she said, the syllables stuttering towards the end. Her eyes were damp, but she was fighting so hard not to cry.

She wouldn't let the bastards who ran this prison see her cry.

"I haven't done anything yet. But we're all on your side. Your name will be cleared soon and we will have you out of here and back where you belong...with us." Sabine stood up and did not attempt to hug Evelyn; she didn't want to piss anyone off and have Evelyn take the blame for it.

"I'll come again. Be well." She stepped back and then let Osira lead her from the room.

Evelyn stared after Sabine as she left, watching the hooded mage push past her with a sneer. Then she smiled as he approached with his hand outstretched and a sleeping spell at the ready, studying his face very carefully and committing his features to memory...

She never forgot a face.


((Adapted from live play with Sabine! Thanks, Sabine!))

Old Market Prison The Tower of Gulshan
The City of RhyDin
Multiverse Designation Omega-Nine-Nine

Jewell crossed her legs carefully, wary of touching anything for too long, even the seat she had taken. Grey eyes skirted around the interrogation room: blood, scratch marks, all the signs of torture etched into the walls, floors and furniture. It was sickening if she thought about it for too long, so she didn't. She didn't dwell on it at all, actually. She was here for her own benefit. If she started worrying about other people--like Evelyn, the woman she helped land in a place like this--she would never get anywhere in life again. She didn't persuade her way into Gulshan and a private chat with the mad scientist to offer her assistance. That's not how Jewell worked anymore. She had an agenda, and she impatiently waited for the missing piece to arrive so she could fulfill it and get out of here.

The guards were displeased that Jewell had insisted on seeing the prisoner alone and unsupervised -- a potential security breach that was not ordinarily tolerated -- but the Empress was far from ordinary. Keys clicked in locks and green light shimmered as wards were altered to allow the door to swing open. The guards made one final sign of their displeasure by clubbing the manacled and hooded prisoner in the middle and kicking her forward into the cell when she doubled over.

The door shut, the locks (arcane and otherwise) clicked and hummed, and the woman put her bound wrists onto the rough wooden stool that normally served as her chair to pull herself upright. "If you don't mind," Evelyn said -- muffled, from within the hood, "I'd like my hood off now, sergeant. Unless this is some horrifying new aspect of our regular torture."

Jewell's own displeasure increased exponentially at the guards' treatment of Evelyn, but she didn't budge. No, not until the locks clicked. Then she was up and stepping around the table--her perfect, black, patent leather shoes a horrible contrast with the stained floor--carefully removing Evelyn's hood. "There will be no torture today, I'm afraid. At least not at the moment," she explained in a clipped tone, stepping back away from her. She had to remind herself that she didn't care how Evelyn was being treated in this prison. She couldn't.

Evelyn stared at Jewell with the strangest expression, very faintly amused in spite of the heavy bags under her eyes and other signs of stress. "Well, this is a pleasant change of pace. I heard all of my dinosaurs made it to their new sanctuary," she added, conversationally, as she straightened as much as she could on the simple wooden block of a seat.

"Of course they did!" Jewell had the balls to almost sound offended that Evelyn would have any reason to doubt that the dinosaurs would be safely delivered as promised. She returned to her seat to face the scientist. "We had a deal. I usually am very particular about holding up my end of a bargain."

There was a scraping sound upstairs, a gate swinging open and someone coughing before they said something, faint and indiscernible. Evelyn frowned at the ceiling, listening to all of this before she concluded: "You must be here for another deal."

The Empress smiled finally, tilting her head. "I thought you and I could come to some sort of arrangement. It certainly seems.. unpleasant here. I might be able to help with that."

"What interests you about Gulshan?" Evelyn said; it had taken her a long time to learn what this place was even called. "Are you the one taking the prisoners?" She blinked innocently, as if unaware she was offering one end of a particularly valuable thread of intelligence.

Her lips pursed together as she now owed Evelyn possibly even more than originally intended for that tidbit. "I'm one of the people putting other people here, and I would prefer that most of them stay put once here."

"The ordinary ones are, I think," Evelyn replied, carefully. "But I can't be sure..." Her eyes narrowed. How could Jewell jog her memory?

Jewell wasn't overly interested in playing games today. The stink of the prison. The iron and magic. It all irritated her. "What do you want?"

"Sergeant Viarnn is always the one to interrogate me -- she's the guard with the blue skin and the horns on her brow, shik'kali I think. She's the only ranking officer I've seen here. Thursday is the only day she doesn't torture me, and on Friday she always has new questions -- I assume someone who pays her more than the Watch is feeding them to her on Thursday." Evelyn paused.

"I want you to arrange new assignments to better look after whoever you're putting in here. You'll arrange for them to be replaced without warning this coming Thursday. And I'll supply you with the name of everyone who seems the easiest to replace," she added.


Viarnn sounded like someone who would need to be dealt with sooner rather than later. Jewell didn't want to deal with anyone who was always going to be looking for the next highest bidder. "Done." Evelyn's solution and suggestion was really in line with Jewell's own desires, and it would be easy enough to accomplish; she had plenty of people in her neighborhoods that could use a good, respectable job. "What else did you have in mind? Are you worried that they are going to take you as well?"

Evelyn avoided the question. She was aware she was balanced on the edge of a knife, between being too useless to keep alive in here, and too useful not to take away to somewhere she could only assume was worse, but there was nothing Jewell could do without jeopardizing her situation. Instead she said, "I'd like you to take a message to Olaf. I hear he's alive again, no thanks to you. How's your memory?"

Now she was going to play messenger? Jewell tucked away her displeasure since Evelyn was going to be supplying her a lot of valuable information. Hopefully. In this business, she was getting used to the give and take.

She also ignored the jibe about Olaf.

"My memory is fairly impeccable. Unless you want to recite some sort of novel, I should not have a problem."
"Dibs on the zen for this past that," Evelyn said, succinctly, blinking at the end. "Exactly those words, in exactly that order. Repeat them to me."

Jewell rolled her eyes before repeating, "Dibs on the zen for this past that." She paused. "I hope that's code to your friends for, 'Don't knock down Jewell's prison. She needs it.'"

Evelyn smiled. "We're coming to such a good understanding. Please don't ruin it by getting in my way a second time. I've been very understanding about you bringing about my death so far."

"You seem alive enough at the moment, so I was hoping we could just forget that unpleasant incident." Jewell matched Evelyn's smile. "I will do my best to stay out of your way if only you will stay out of my business, and unfortunately.. this prison is now part of my business."

"I think you need to concern yourself more with staying out of mine," Evelyn replied cheerfully, and rattled off names: "Dov Gaitani has been ****ing three of the prisoners -- two, now, after he got one of them pregnant. She's dead now. The skin on his ring finger indicates he's married. Gabriela Marquesa controls magic, but she uses some very strong drugs in order to do it. Her hands shake a lot. Calvin Ayres is a pervert. He likes to masturbate in front of the prisoners when no one else is around. Sha-Grak-Dul murdered that pregnant woman. Philista Saint Cronne has a gambling problem, and debts. She keeps trying to take people's shifts."

She hadn't been lying about the memory thing. Just as she had tucked away Evelyn's message to Olaf, each name was repeated silently and committed as well. There were things she had learned in Faerie, like never forgetting an important name. "All right. I appreciate the information, Ms. Bell. Is there anything I can do to make your current stay more comfortable?"

"On Thursday morning, I'd like you to deliver Sergeant Viarnn's home address to my friend Cane. You can use as many go-betweens as you like. Are you comfortable with that, or do I have to wait for Olaf to do it instead after she finally succeeds in killing me?" Evelyn asked, coolly.

The Empress smile did not falter. "No need to be dramatic dear. Do you think I'd be sitting across from you right now if I wasn't okay with that? Canaan will have the address on time. I will ask again though that you refrain from knocking down my prison, yes?" She asked as she stood, brushing her skirt off. "You see, I don't really care whether you're here or not, though you are more useful to me here at the moment. However, there area number of violent criminals being detained here. It'd be a shame if they were to somehow be released and your name was tied up in all the violent aftermath. Wouldn't it?"

"However, if you were able to claim you contained such an incident, that would look wonderful on your record as an upstanding citizen without blood on her hands," Evelyn smiled magnanimously, though the contempt showed in her word choice. "And if -- theoretically -- one person was not contained, that is something you'd rather not report. You'd rather report that no one escaped."

Jewell actually laughed. It was quiet, as fit their location and situation, but it was genuine. "Yes. I suppose that would work out nicely. But try not to make too big of a mess, all right? I'm a rather busy lady."

Evelyn laughed softly, waving a hand as if they were two old friends enjoying a joke, and replied, "If you stop me, if anything happens to me, you should know that my family is coming. And they are all like me." She settled her bound and bruised wrists on the edge of the table, and tilted her head with an odd smile. "It was so good to catch up."

((Adapted from live play with Evelyn! A joy as always!))

Interdimensional Sky Castle Schilder House
The City of RhyDin
Multiverse Designation Omega-Nine-Nine

There was little Evelyn remembered about her rescue from the Tower of Gulshan. She remembered it was dark out when the screaming and the strong smell of disrupted magic came up the stairs to her cell -- and then she had let the 'other woman' in, the dark space in her mind that hadn't been there before the last time she died. Evelyn could feel fear and panic and despair, but this new part of her was driven only by survival and revenge.

She still wasn't sure why there had been blood on her hands when her friends appeared in front of her cell. Had she hurt, or killed someone? and had it been to survive, or for revenge?

"That's not me," Evelyn said firmly, dropping her HoloPlay 3DX into her pajama-clad lap; the upbeat chiptune of her favorite dating sim 'Boys Kissing' filled the silence as she stared across her new bedroom at Olaf. He stared back from the foot of her bed, lid inching open.

"I know," she sighed, turning to stare out her window at a cloud passing between Schilder House and a nearby mountaintop. "It is and isn't me, but even if I'm invoking this new part of myself just to survive... I'm still responsible for what I do. It's still a part of me... and it's something I'm afraid to run the risk of unleashing again if I go outside."

Olaf wobbled closer across a tangled pile of blankets, creaking something conciliatory at her.

"No," Evelyn shook her head, "it can't be 'when I'm ready.' I'll never be completely ready. If I stay cooped up in here, I... I'll get worse," and she bit her lip fretfully. "And I can't just be with my family, either. They don't know me like my friends do -- I have to see them again. I love them. I miss them."

She drew her knees up and propped her chin there; Olaf waddled until his wooden side was resting against her thigh, and she gave his lid a fond pat.

"And I owe it to them. They didn't just rescue Evelyn Augusta Bell the physical human being; they rescued the social person I've become in this place, their friend."

She lifted her hand off his lid, staring at the six-handed watch that now ticked endlessly, never beholden to another jump unless she read one in the hands and decided to take it. It meant she could jump on her own, or attune it to the spikes Uncle Griffin had placed in the foundation of Schilder House, and take her entire extended family with her to other universes; it meant she could also jump without them, get away from her family and leave the manor floating above RhyDin, even take someone else's hand and take them with her without splitting them into pieces like poor Merced.

More importantly it meant that she was freer than she had ever been in her entire life: free from imprisonment, free from jumping across the Multiverse against her will, and free once more from the consequences of death, now that her bond to the watch had been restored.

But her stomach turned at the thought of hurtling through the interdimensional void again, just to hop-scotch her way between universes to reach the city down below. That she was not ready for.

"Olaf? Tell Uncle Griffin to position us over... New Haven. Best to avoid the Marketplace, just in case," she muttered, worrying her lip again. "I'd like to take the stairs."

* * *

Out on the edge of RhyDin, behind a row of cottages in a heavily wooded neighborhood, was a forest meadow. People in the area didn't use it out of (occasionally justified) fear of the surrounding forest, but a lone billygoat that had wandered down from the mountains didn't appear to share their concerns. He had eaten his way through a number of wildflowers and a discarded Zeppa t-shirt, and he was working on a tough sapling growing out of a tree trunk when a rumble in the sky got his attention.

"Meh-eh-eh," he said at the apparent thunderstorm, as unimpressed with this one as the dozens of others he'd seen. Then something else boomed up in the clouds, and a massive harpoon whistled its way through the clouds and towards his tree trunk. Panic set in immediately; the goat turned tail for the forest, galloping into the trees to take his chances with whatever monsters they held.

Schilder House's massive anchor blasted through the tree trunk and several feet of earth, tethered to the floating manor and its earthen underbelly by a flexible elevator shaft made entirely of carbon nanotubes. A door appeared to melt out of the base of the tether, and a woman in Doc Martens and a piece of ambulatory luggage emerged into the meadow.

"Huh," Evelyn said, looking around the empty space with her eyebrows raised in surprise. "I thought we would have drawn more of a crowd."

Olaf groaned in agreement.