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Timekeeper     The Chicago branch of the St. Pavlov Foundation can't be roused to provide vehicles on this short notice, and Vertin's request to them gets a shrug as a reply. Instead, it's a driver from HQ, embedded in the windy city as part of their efforts to reinforce their local presence in the fight against the Manus Vindictae, who picks the Timekeeper and her offworld assistance up and races (within speed limits) to the manor.

    Vertin seems oddly restless about something unclear, watching out the window with an expressionless face as if she's looking for something. Sonetto inherits some of the Timekeeper's uneasiness secondhand, despite not being sure of the cause herself, running her gloved fingers through her hair as a fidget. In Vertin's place, she takes up the conversational semi-briefing role to fill the air.

    "It is suspicious to me that the timing of such a large gathering of hostiles," She means, angry civilians. "Comes so shortly after the Sotheby manor was designated to be the Foundation's forward operating base. I believe it is likely that this is a targeted attack against the Foundation by the Manus Vindictae, in order to suppress our resources while they enact some other plot."

    This framing settles her down and gives her something to focus on, and she confidently nods. "Stationed at the manor is a field agent squadron that is certainly already managing the riot. We will be briefed by Sabre Squadron, meet up with Mr. Karson to ensure the safety of the residents of the property, and then begin deescalating the gathering."

    Unsure if it needs mentioning again, but doing so out of diligence, she clarifies, "Without causing unnecessary physical harm to the rioters."

    Vertin, stirred out of her fugue, snaps her eyes onto a flicker of motion outside the tinted windows. "There. There's people outside. They seem to be headed towards the manor as well."

    Sonetto leans forwards to see out the window past her. It doesn't look organized at all, to watch the people hurrying down the street in the same direction as the car, in the process of joining the crowd clustered outside the fences. Seeing them individually before they meld into the group, they all look perfectly ordinary, many not even changed out of their work clothes, all seeming stressed and frustrated in some way. One old man gestures furiously with his cane, jabbing it up into the air as if trying to stab towards the manor grounds with it.

    "It seems as though they are attempting to join the riot, even though it has been some time since it began. Is it the mentality of the mob that drew them out of their homes?"
Timekeeper     "Here's far enough, please. Thank you."

    Raising their hand to signal the driver was barely necessary. Getting out of the slick black car, there's little more street it could've carried you on before having to push through protestors. Vertin's suitcase falls into place at her side, and she adjusts the brim of her hat to look over top of the crowd's heads towards the manor.

    "Something's off about this. Neither I nor the Foundation heard any suggestion of organization from the Manus Vindictae about this. Either they're aware of all of our surveilled channels and avoided them flawlessly, or this is something more insidious."

    She falls silent again, but this time it's to listen. Where before, the crowds outside the Sothebys' were relatively unified in sentiment even if not in specific words-- bad sentiment, of course, with their shouts of 'witches get out'-- there's no clear ideological throughline here. Instead, out of the sea of generalized malcontent, the most commonly-held principle seems to be 'let us in'.

    Sonetto frowns and opens her mouth, but before she can say anything, something someone throws leaves an arc of light over the fence. Sonetto whips around: "Pacale siste!" Frozen in place at the indication of her glasfeder, a few feet above the lawn, is a ball of rags and pitch, doused in oil and ignited like a crude bomb.

    There's cries of 'sabotage' more than 'witch', though the latter are absolutely interspersed throughout the indignation. A woman lunges to grab Sonetto's shoulder, but the sentence that she gets out before Vertin shoves her away is "Where did you buy that beautiful pen?"

    A quick chant of "Uguale raggio mi chiude in un centro di buio." surrounds the group with individual rings of light, formed from tiny cursive letters if examined closely. With the wards up, Vertin looks to the path through the crowd that'll have to be navigated to get up to the familiar manor.

    "First things first. Let's meet up with Sabre Squadron."
Ein The path to the manor, such as it is, feels like the approach to a concert venue or a major sports event than any kind of private residence. In the time since the agitation started, fires had started and been stopped, torches had been lit and doused, glass from bottles and even some windows had been broken, and where statues and placards had been raised before, well. . .

The Foundation driver can make it most of the way to the manor grounds without too much incident. The crowds becoming thicker, though, is apparent, and as they hurry besides the car and struggle to keep up - or know if 'towards' means ally - even the presence of bodies is too much to muscle past in their 1920's era solid-bodied car.

The front gate itself is already swamped over, people climbing the fence up and over and in some places having bent down or opened the wall' high fencing to enter and there simply not being enough ability to stop a determined individual from doing so other than being there...

And there isn't anyone. Critically to the situation, the people milling about are doing so both inside and outside the main grounds, treading on tracks that have been left by more forceful entry.

There are truck tracks that continue on through road path and past the wrecked gate a good distance in before the orange glow of a mostly-contained fire evinces what happened, and perhaps why the Foundation HQ troops aren't still holding this gate.

Is it that bad? Has the situation deteriorated that much? The outermost gates had been a hardpoint of the manor before and now... It's stripped, in some way. Before there were brass knobs and plaques and even a family crest on the front gate and, rather than being destroyed these items are simply Gone like the front had been salvaged and the materials already disappeared. Stripped bare, picked clean, and while the near issue of the truck in the distance smoked there seemed to simply be something on the mind.

As Sonetto's barrier provides a warding arcanum to the party and they advance through the latecomers to the riot, the growingly impressive statues of great beasts and legendary Critters have been equally picked clean down to the stonework, left naked and malformed by some strange greed or riotous impulse without the actual statues coming down. Deeper in, after the crowd thickens again, the reason why becomes more clear, and more embattled:

A handful of white armored individuals with marble-and-glass seeming riot shields and satchel bags with truncheons or white tonfa-gripped clubs and other supplies hold an off-path cordon, at the turn-off towards where prior Sotheby and Moissan entertained a Foundation group weeks ago to share a boggy froggy party and squeeze toads while speaking to topics far deeper in. Fenced in with stake-driven mesh wire fences that seem out of place and white tarp-drapes, the little guarded outpost seems adrift in a sea of angry and accusatory people than commanding territory.

The armored knights' chess-esque visor-helmets snap to the approaching cab and reposition to react to an arcane attack, and are more relieved when the people - especially the Timekeeper and Sonetto - are made more visible. Their no-man's zone is enforced by a lot of bodies and drifts of smoke that seem war-zone until one hears the faint effervescence of Bubble Bombs and can see the tinted smoke of more human made gasses. Still others have been pushed out of the way and are in distance protesting from being repelled previously, recovering or reconsidering among the dissipating gasses. This place has been hard-pressed and barricades of disabled and sleeping people are already not just apparent but a clear risk and issue that the embattled Foundation HQ troopers can't quite shift to solve without exposing their command post.

It's an issue!
Ein Closer in, the riot here seems a moment-off, and while people are milling about there's not quite enough of them to form up another big motion, yet with your arrival the tensions pull taut once more.

"Is that the Timekeeper?" One chess-knight asks, where another one pulls out a whistle and blows it rather than spend a spell or reveal future technology. A few moments after that, while everyone has time to formulate a plan and approach, a familiar face has the gate cracked open so she can exit by a second figure. One is Ms. Moissan, bearing her own sachel bag and with long-handled mallet corded across her back from a shoulder strap. Her 'dressed for a fight' is very similar to her being dressed for instruction, but the Foundation HQ agent wears a different *look* as armor. Hard eyed and bearing a distant expression, she quietly consults with the taller man escorting her and then hails everyone with a raised hand while her other rests low and to her side in a vague draw-ready looseness. It's the visored knight that talks, this time.

"Good evening, everyone! It's already been a long night." The warm baritone comes unclipped and directed to those pushing through the no-man's-land wearing Foundation pins - Moissan having found her own badge and having clipped it to her lapel, as well as a white ribbon about her hat to help the other Foundation regulars target identify in a mixed brawl. Wearing a forest cloak over shoulders that differentiates him from all the rest and bearing a bladed weapon on his hip with a cord on the guard sealing the weapon in place, the officer-bearing man

"I'm Captain Lucas Cartwright, of Sabre Squadron. You wouldn't happen to have a company of local reinforcements behind you, would you?" He asks, voice dropping as people approach. "Didn't expect them to bring a truck, but nothing's been right tonight." He adds, low sotto, more honest in the scramble than he'd ever be over a briefing table. "Moissan said you'd be bringing support."

Ms. Moissan's smile is professionally present and as thin as she feels. "Ms. Sotheby is still inside the manor proper, unless Mister Karson has gotten her to another location. I was in contact with the house phone until we had to leave the gatehouse. Since then - over an hour ago - we haven't had any contact or the people to send."
Regulus Regulus was in such a good mood too, but she's as ever determined to be hopeful. It takes effort to get Regulus to talk about how much shit sucks even if she's all too happy to complain about her personal problems to the entire multiverse.

"Yeah probably." She says to Sonetto's summary, not even getting riled up by referring to civilians as 'hostiles' so you know she's a little out of it. "Oggh... I wish impromptu concerts could solve these problems every time but man..."

''It seems as though they are attempting to join the riot.''

"Well you know, everybody wants to feel like they're a part of the moment." Though there's something about this that rings familiar to her as she recalls the conflict between the labor activists and the authorities from her own time, but she assures herself that these things happen in pretty much any era. Her breathing is a little unsteady, but otherwise...

She gets out of the car, APPLe floating behind her. "Makes sense they're being more careful." Regulus says, thinking of Schneider going out of her way to drink soda. "But it's not as if they need to always push that hard to get people testy about the Foundation. Or wealthy blokes."

''Where did you buy that beautiful pen?''

Regulus does the unthinkable and zips up her precious bag with the precious records inside. "Um. What?" She asks. "Are they just digging the vibe?" She looks to APPLe, "Maybe I should hold you close." She says, pulling APPLe into her arms, wrapping both around him after pulling her hat down securely on her head.

She looks at the stripped bare gate for just a moment before pushing onward. "Sotheby's such a brave girl, this nonsense has been throwing itself at her home again and again and with no parent in sight."

She doesn't wave a hand over to the squadron Captain, instead kind of moving closer to Sonetto but also kind of trying to hide behind her a little. She listens, but doesn't speak up and doesn't even ay 'we're reinforcements!'.

"We should...probably check in on them." She murmurs, while still hoping to avoid the attention of 'officers'.
Riku Asakura Riku meets up with Vertin and Sonetto so that he can get a ride to the manor.  He notices Vertin's seemingly distracted tone, but listens to Sonetto carefully to ensure he doesn't miss anything about the site report.  "So you think it's the Manus?" he asks Sonetto, though when they get closer, the seemingly unrelated people coming to riot make Riku's eyebrows raise a bit.  

Riku was dressed normally, in a jean jacket with an orange shirt with the space logo on it, a pair of jeans, and tennis shoes.  He sits with a nervous energy about him because they'd be trying to stop normal people from rioting.  When they get out, it's Sonetto's barrier that separates them from the mob surrounding them.  It's distressing to say the least!

He doesn't even know if Smash Moon Healing would stop this many people!  He'd have to grow very big for a shot at it, working on this many people at once, but right now they simply don't have the room.  So he continues with the group to meet up with the squad that the Foundation sent.  

'I'm Captain Lucas Cartwright, of Sabre Squadron. You wouldn't happen to have a company of local reinforcements behind you, would you?'

"No, I'm afraid we're the reinforcements!" Riku says with as much upbeatness as he can muster.  It's a dangerous place right now, with the rioting civilians.  Riku takes another look at the gathering people, with the fires being set and then smothered.  Why now?  Why these people at all..?  Was hate so strong that it flowed through the veins of this city, or was there something else at work here?  

'Ms. Sotheby is still inside the manor proper, unless Mister Karson has gotten her to another location.'

"Oh no, Ms. Sotheby.  Okay, I'll try to find her," Riku says, and already makes a break for the manor proper, trying to see if he can find Sotheby and Karson before the rioters do, and who knows what the mob would do to this little girl and her butler...
Odette Raskins "Someone definitely had to be riling them up." Odette nods slowly in agreement with Sonetto's initial assessment, looking and sounding somewhat apprehensive while trying (and failing) not to look out the window on the way to the manor. "Wouldn't take much if it's anything like that time, either, with the Sotheby's place already being a hotspot and the Foundation not being all too popular."

Still fidgeting in her seat, she gives her trusty medical case a quick pat as Sonetto lays out what's expected of her. "U-understood, Miss Sonetto. I've got plenty of sedatives on hand, patches to get them dosed safely, and all the usuals for us and anyone from the manor that might get beaned on the way out."

She's really hoping it's just people throwing things, at least. Despite her own efforts, however, Vertin's mention of people approaching the manor is too much for Odette. She winds up looking outside to see all the people heading in the same direction, and then she ducks her head down under the window quickly when she thinks she sees one of them looking at the car.

"Eep! D-do you think they saw us?" A pause, and then she tries to shake off the pre-operation jitters while sliding back up into a proper-enough sitting posture, eventually disembarking from the car once it's time to make the rest of the way in on foot. "Hhh... Never mind. Th-they've got to know we're not with them by now. Just need to be ready, and hope whatever Manus Vindictae's cooking up is manageable enough."

The first explosion already puts a hole into that idea, but Odette's handled holes made by explosives before. She's expecting them, even, but that odd question to Sonetto gets a confused glance from Odette before she starts weaving through the crowd. She's certainly not going to try fighting or agitating any of them further, at least, opting to try and just blend in with her cap tilted downwards and the various old stains on her EMT jacket hopefully making it easier to just glance past her as someone without rich people money.

The sight of the wrecked gate slows Odette down a bit as she heads on in, though, as do the statues that look oddly stripped down rather than just toppled over like she would've expected. She can't quite make sense of it just passing on by like that, though, especially as the battle lines become clearer upon spotting the knights and smoke in the nearer distance. Still moving with the rioters rather than halting them, Odette might very well be mistaken for one of them as she sticks right to them on the way up.

She's also sticking them with patches packed with sedatives whenever she sees a patch of exposed skin or, better yet, bruises that she can  hastily explain away with "You're hurt." and "Lemme take care of that."  before slipping away to do it a few more times. It's only when the group gets close enough for the knights to recognize anyone that she's a little more brazen in scurrying to catch up instead of really getting mistaken for a rioter and clubbed in the head.

"M-Miss Moissan! Mister..." Oh. She doesn't recognize the captain, actually. "Um. Captain, hello. That company would be us, sir." She answers, coughing briefly before actually managing to project her voice without having to stop or stutter about it. "I'm glad that you're all safe, then. Miss Sotheby's..."

She nods slowly at Regulus, clenching her jaw a bit to keep it from quivering. "Mhm, it's been one thing after the other... We'll have to move quick to get everyone out of here safely. You wouldn't happen to know any tunnels or back paths or anything we can use to sneak out of here, would you? The front gate's no good, and we had to hike some just to get here after leaving the car."
Veronica     Veronica fidgets a little in her seat in the car. She can't help but feel a city's energy even when she's not trying to, and the idea of defusing a riot - or even fending off a massed civilian attack - has her stomach in a knot.

    Sonetto: "I believe it is likely that this is a targeted attack against the Foundation by the Manus Vindictae, in order to suppress our resources while they enact some other plot."

    "If they already know the Foundation's set up there, then they'll probably expect us or at least somebody to show up, right? Are we sure it's smart to all get there in the same car? I could walk the last few blocks," Veronica says. Leather jackets like Veronica's aren't quite the height of fashion, but she thinks she could pass as a motorcyclist or something. Her question is rendered moot, however, by the sheer scale of the crowd surrounding the manor - it seems like *everyone's* walking the last block or two.

    Vertin: "Neither I nor the Foundation heard any suggestion of organization from the Manus Vindictae about this. Either they're aware of all of our surveilled channels and avoided them flawlessly, or this is something more insidious."

    Veronica nods. "I'll... put out some feelers. Maybe there's something Sabre Squad'll've overlooked." As the car-full of Elites begins to work its way through the outer edges of the crowd, Veronica lets her mind wander, almost literally - her psyche traces the streets, 'zooming out' across the Sotheby estate, nestling itself in the intersection of place and people to listen in on the emotional background noise.

    She taps into the city's psychic pulse as broadly as she can, trying to feel out not only the texture of this crowd's desires, but also its boundaries. How far does this sentiment spread, this strangely directed collective anger? And where are its leaders, its public icons and blazing firebrands?

    By the time the group has made it to the front gates of Sotheby Manor, Veronica's come back to the visible reality from her communion with the invisible. With only the Elites inside Sonetto's barrier, Veronica casts her gaze on the ground, surprised to see a total absence of scrap or rubble despite the missing pieces on the gate. Have the decorations been carried off piece by piece?
Lilian Rook     Lilian didn't want to be back in Chicago so soon. She'd rather have had two or three weeks to forget about it, or better yet, to be back in Chicago three days ago, when she was still itching to go and see Bellwhistle and overflowing with unasked questions. Today feels like the worst of all days besides yesterday, and that feeling leaks into everything else. Dressed up in the full set of only nominally modular oufit that she had decided represents her as 'a field investigator of the Foundation' without saying so, Lilian oozes a kind of morosely restless antipathy throughout the entire car ride that makes any memory of her being forced to sneak around the backrooms of a Manus Vindictae hideout seem like giddy anticipation by juxtaposition.

    The one saving Grace of this whole thing is Sonetto. Sonetto and Vertin, really, but since the day before yesterday, Lilian hasn't been able to think about Vertin without feeling a little bit humbled and an even littler bit distraught. Sonetto is both a symbol of Vertin, whom she likes, and is a soothing object of shared fixation with her wife, which she also likes, and her pleasantly militaristic way of stripping this complex moment in sociological history down into spartan enemy action is even more soothing than that.

    'I believe it is likely that this is a targeted attack against the Foundation by the Manus Vindictae, in order to suppress our resources while they enact some other plot.'

    "That would be the most likely outcome." Lilian says, both cynically and hopefully at the same time. They're her first words to anyone she doesn't live with since this morning.

    'Without causing unnecessary physical harm to the rioters.'

    "Acknowledged. But surely you'd agree that if any of them are returning rioters from last time, more physical harm than before must be necessary to put an end to the problem." Lilian says. She knows full well what the scene will look like already. Her eyes drift sidelong to the back of Vertin's hat instead of the scenery, and then to their reflection instead, swatching their lips move without really parsing any of it.

    Lilian vividly recalls the contents of the tape the Mesmer Junior had recently provoked her with, shuddders, and then for her own benefit, drily says "You too?" as a private joke for her alone.

    'It seems as though they are attempting to join the riot, even though it has been some time since it began. Is it the mentality of the mob that drew them out of their homes?'

    "Voyeuristic cowards." Lilian mutters. "They always have a problem with someone, but never enough to really mean it. And yet, when they're bored and it's easy and someone else already started it, they'll believe that they really do; for a short time at least." She makes an exasperated noise, shaking her head with an unpleasant expression. "I'll be glad to disabuse them of the notion."

    'Either they're aware of all of our surveilled channels and avoided them flawlessly, or this is something more insidious.'

    Lilian spares a moment to listen to Vertin, but only a moment. Even though she broadly trusts the Timekeeper's intuition-- more than practically any Elite she knows already-- the roar of the crowd and the shades of the mob, surging at the gates to a house that only represents a curious little teenaged girl in her mind, no matter how opulent it really is, put Lilian firmly in a fixed state of mind from the instant she exits the car to be assaulted by the noise. "Is there something more insidious than your enemy having perfect intel?" she says, exchanging one word for another, similar word, without thinking.
Lilian Rook     §Of course there is. She's just being too polite to say what it is, because we both know just how utterly pedestrian it sounds when you say it out loud.§

    . . . . . . . .

    Arriving at the Foundation's outpost on the mansion grounds, Lilian feels stiff from the exertion of keeping her hands at her sides and not striking anyone on the way in. Though she prefers to credit the sword resting openly at her side, using the belt for its intended purpose, for once, she breaks her own tension by saying "Excellent work, Sonetto. You clearly practice your wards." just like she'd do for her subordinates.

    '"I'm Captain Lucas Cartwright, of Sabre Squadron. You wouldn't happen to have a company of local reinforcements behind you, would you?'

    "Dame Commander Lilian Rook, of the Paladins." she says, choosy with her introduction. Her elbow rests in the crook of the hilt, as a forced posture to relax herself. "Respectfully, Captain, a company would just get in my way." Her eyes drift down to his blade, and she begins sizing him up on the spot, from a neutral point nudged positive just by his weapon. "Thank you for your hard work containing the situation until now."

    'Ms. Sotheby is still inside the manor proper, unless Mister Karson has gotten her to another location.'

    Lilian breathes out an extra little bit of tension she wasn't aware she was holding. "How many does the Foundation want for questioning?" Lilian asks, a little more easily than a second ago. "All you have to do is say the word and I'll disperse the rest."

    'I', not 'we'. Her fingers flex open and closed with vaguely dangerous spirit. "Manus Vindictae or not, they'll lose their nerve quickly enough."
Tamiel Luxis     The mood in the car is contagious, and it sets Tamiel to fussing with her keychain, making soft sounds as she peers out the window. Red hair, framed by fractured halo, falls about her her face, mirrored back to her by the windowglass. "Everything's too close," she murmured, absent any deeper insight to rely on. Her shadow flares and quavers unnaturally in the light, too solid.

    As the car comes to a stop, she grabs that shadow and pulls it over herself, letting it coil and twist, unfurling into her costume as she climbed out of the car, already grabbing at her scarf to prevent it from floating in the way of the other occupants as they piled out. She lingered at the edge of the crowd, looking in, the sea of people washing against the Soetheby residence in front of her, before charging in through Sonetto's wards, and Sabre's bubble bombs.

    Her shadow bifurcates into parts as they meet the captain, splitting into five wingless twins--each of them solid, real, able to press themselves flat against the ground, and set to try to move the sleeping bodies--It was a risk! There was no guarantee the shadows would be below the crowd's notice. But she'd live, at least, even if the crowd saw and turned on them.

    "Hi, Captain...Miss Mossian." Something didn't feel right--this mob didn't feel angry, so much as--No. There wasn't time to think on it. "I'll try to keep people from being trampled, and get them out of the way..." she said, glad Riku had spared her the need to split herself even further to seek out little Sotheby.
James Bond It is suspicious to me that the timing of such a large gathering of hostiles...

    "Don't call them that," Bond advises. Suits are familiar territory for him. The only difference is the fit; he's from the era of power shoulders, and this is the era of vertically pronounced collars. He wears his double-breasted grey pinstripe well, matched with a green tie and accentuated by his pewter-gold 'JB' cufflinks. "Or think of them that way."

    "It's bad for your health," he dryly adds.

    Stepping out of the car, he carries a briefcase, plain black leather. Eyes forward marching through the crowd, his thumb presses a button cleverly hidden on the handle. The crowd of angry voices is recorded by a hidden microphone and fed through a small, highly specialized computer for analysis, isolating them into individual files for later review. It's safer and faster than sticking around asking questions, albeit less directly informative.

You wouldn't happen to have a company of local reinforcements behind you, would you?

    "Believe me," says Bond, "You've got the best of the best. James Bond," he offers by way of introduction, proferring his right hand for Cartwright and Moissan to shake in turn.

    "Give me a timeline of events, to the best of your understanding. It'll help paint a clearer picture." Bond sets the briefcase on the nearest table-height surface, table or not. He pulls at the clasp and it extends outward with a twist into a single headphone, listening to the chatter from the more agitated crowd past the outpost.
Tamamo     While it may be tempting to omit details of dress for brevity, the most important thing about the 'modernized' Victorian dress that Tamamo has inexplicably chosen for today is undoubtedly the hat. Large enough in brim to supply a little shade to her eyes, it's wrapped in a pink ribbon that could very well be imagined voluminous to make a second, smaller dress, tied up in a bow to the side.

    Solidarity, perhaps, in a commitment such that a lady need not dress quietly.

    'I believe it is likely that this is a targeted attack against the Foundation by the Manus Vindictae, in order to suppress our resources while they enact some other plot.'

    After taking a sip, "That is entirely plausible, given their profile." Where did Tamamo get the tea cup and saucer? It's as if the outfit is so accessorized. She's holding them apart so the driving doesn't cause a clink.
Tamamo     '...and then begin deescalating the gathering.'

    "Such would be our only expected action, if this is, as suggested, some diversion." That's not quite a suggestion to do otherwise.

    'Is it the mentality of the mob that drew them out of their homes?'

    "Is it not that some... no, I suppose home radios are uncommon at this point in time? Wherever could such organization come from? The timing does not suggest meetings in person."

    As they get out, swiftly, there's cause to act -- and though Tamamo seems about to, she leaves the attempted bombing to Sonetto when Vertin speaks, while exchanging a look with Lilian. "Repeating the same efforts," meaning, a concert, "is unlikely to give better results than before."

    Tamamo takes a moment, in passing, to straighten Sonetto's clothing after the grab. "An oddly sudden interest, that was, in your pen."

    They make their way through. "Ms. Moissan, a pleasure as always, and this is--?" Introductions are handled quickly -- naturally, given the circumstances. "I am Tamamo-no-mae, and also of the Paladins."

    'You wouldn't happen to have a company of local reinforcements behind you, would you?'

    "You will find us so capable, Captain Cartwright. It is the possibility that we should accomplish 'only' those things before us that concerns me. We are in rather a great need of information, would you not agree?"

    '...we haven't had any contact or the people to send.'

    "And now we shall." Already, Riku's heading that way. Tamamo gives him a nod. "Keep in touch."

    'How many does the Foundation want for questioning?'

    "It seems distressingly unlikely that any selected at random... or, perhaps, 'any who remain,' will know anything of interest. The ones who do are more careful."

    Turning to look between Vertin and Sonetto, Tamamo says, "It would be better if I had somewhere quiet to work, but I suppose we shall have to do with bedlam, instead. Lilian shall keep me safe, of course." Of course. "I will need to concentrate for a little while."

    With that said, Tamamo finds somewhere to sit, dress smoothed out, and stare down into her tea -- miraculously unspilled, even with crowd jostling -- and whispers a few words that would cause a chill just by being almost heard. Her awareness fades upward and twisting, coming out into that plane in which strings between distant artifacts of magic are plucked and vibrate, sending waves in every direction. If there are conspirators communicating by arcane means, or spying upon them so, she'll see the signs in tea.
Timekeeper "If they already know the Foundation's set up there, then they'll probably expect us or at least somebody to show up, right?"

    Sonetto shakes her head, watching the sea of average-looking humans around them. "I would be surprised if more than a few at most knew, Miss Veronica. The majority of these people are not part of the Manus Vindictae. The St. Pavlov Foundation headquarters' movements are classified information."

"But surely you'd agree that if any of them are returning rioters from last time, more physical harm than before must be necessary to put an end to the problem."

    Sonetto hesitates, then glances around as if she might somehow recognize any of the rioters. Maybe they're hired actors! After a brief moment, she nods firmly, redoubling her grip on her glasfeder.

    "Understood. In that case, that would be necessary physical harm." Wow! You really can just tell her to kill.

"It's bad for your health,"It's bad for your health,"

    Sonetto stares at Bond blankly for a couple seconds, before nodding as if he's said something really helpful. "Okay." God only knows how this girl has spent nearly her entire life surrounded by British people and still turned out this way.

"Wouldn't take much if it's anything like that time, either, with the Sotheby's place already being a hotspot and the Foundation not being all too popular."
"But it's not as if they need to always push that hard to get people testy about the Foundation. Or wealthy blokes."
"Wherever could such organization come from?"

    Vertin frowns, holding her hat against a gust of wind, like the clamor of the crowd threatens to knock it off. With Sonetto taking the role of warding her and the others, she hasn't so much as drawn her wand, trusting entirely in the barrier.

    "It's possible that this is largely organic. Several coordinated local events by the Manus could have seeded enough heated discontent that a breaking point was reached to snowball into this. As we've said, the tensions between class and race differences are already quite high and need little interference. Still."

    Vertin looks over her shoulder, back at the now-retreating car that their Foundation driver brought them in. Whatever thoughts are troubling her, she still doesn't voice them out loud. "... Still."

    "As Mrs. Tamamo and Lilian said, even if this is orchestrated by the Manus Vindictae in the same way as before, we can't expect to resolve it with the same methods. If the resting sentiment of the populace towards the Foundation is this bad, then we'll have no resort besides physically discouraging a third repeat."

"Is there something more insidious than your enemy having perfect intel?"

    "Maybe," She says, without elaborating.

"I'm Captain Lucas Cartwright, of Sabre Squadron."

    "Good evening, Captain." Vertin's introduction doesn't even need to be stated, as distinctive as she is. Sonetto, for militaristic thoroughness, gives hers. "Chief Investigator Sonetto, the Timekeeper's assistant. These are the offworlders who have assisted us on prior field missions, Captain Cartwright."

    "Consider each one as individually capable, and coordinate with trust in the capacities they claim." That is to say, 'treat them as arcanists who can do surprising things, but, like, treat them more seriously than you would do that'.

    Vertin's eyes quickly flick to Lilian before making a decision. "Sonetto and I will accompany Riku in retrieving Sotheby and Mr. Karson. We'll reconvene here and provide an update on the state of the rest of the property, Agent Moissan."
Ein 'No, I'm afraid we're the reinforcements!'

Captain Cartwright picks up the enthusiasm (forced) that Riku puts down and drops left thumb to his belt while right claps the younger man on his shoulder. "Afraid? Son," Cartwright takes a quarter step forward so he can drop a bit more towards Riku's eye level, personal for a moment. "Let me know if I should be too, alright?" The man chuckles, but rises quickly with another armpat to straighten for the next question.

Moissan picks up where Cartwright leaves off. "Understood - you're the young man whose arcane skill is becoming larger?" She scans the group. "Anyone else?"

Captain Cartwright spots Regulus worriedly stowing some Awakened companion and ducking near the checkered scarf of Sonetto, and directs his attention to the capped woman's clear handler instead. "Even if it's what Team Timekeeper could commit, we appreciate it."

While Odette approaches, Moissan is pulling out white strips of cloth to hand out to people to tie or affix to themselves. "If you meet any other members of Sabre Squadron in the field, if you aren't wearing Foundation pins or colors, we've arranged the white ribbon as a signal." She explains, already wearing hers as a long hatband as hers was pre-prepared. Odette, lagging while playing medic, is given special attention to make sure she gets one wrapped around her bicep for visibility. "Here, be careful--" Moissan frets until Odette is set up, insistingly Adult at the smaller woman for a moment until she was situated and then moving on as quickly.

"We can't deploy anyone to help, but," Cartwright begins, his slow to a drawl rolling as he brought the bad news to the quick meeting, but Moissan cuts in. "Yes. There are servant passages we can access through the cellar, which shouldn't have been breached. We'll be able to reach the hall that Sotheby's room is in, but her room is isolated in the manor."

Moissan doesn't have a good answer for why that is, and doesn't really have time to break down every part of why the situation is awful. People have grasped it already, so she is moving at pace instead.

Veronica's inspection of the grounds and vibes on the background noise give her a strange picture: The air hangs with a hunger, which isn't quite a greed. It's a need, a clawing thing that begins in the belly and radiates outward. The truck, such that it is, is from a produce company from outer Chicago, though if it was commandeered or brought is unclear. There's no casualties near the wreck, and the cab has been evacuated, but the battering ram use is clear and the accusatory riot had only been simmering at its low boil now for some time. Deeper in, there were more people - and more fire.

Scattered throughout the intervening middle areas of the compound are a collection of Foundation hardpoints, with the one near the front the most gathered-to simply because the guardhouse team had retreated to it. Each protects some sort of device or Object that seems scientifically relevant and charged with some energy that makes reading the true vibe of the area staticky and more difficult in the sense of signal interference on the same frequency band causing white noise. The air hangs, palpable, but palpable with *what* doesn't crest or break - just hangs, shadowlike.
Ein To Lilian's eyes, Cartwright is the classic cut of career military-civil service individual who takes his job and even more unlikely his mission statement seriously. Except for trying to cheer up Riku with a little light humor his stance is relaxed-ready and even his resting hand doesn't indicate the readiness to strike -- if anything, he stands as bonded as his weapon, easy and casual in the field surrounded by disabled civilians and a shit-show under his command after a retreat maneuver.

When he hears 'Dame Commander' and 'Paladins' his demeanor shifts in change despite the visor over his eyes hiding where his own sight went to size Lilian up in turn. "Dame Commander." He returns, offering a crisp handshake that deftly transitions into a more formal taking-of-fingers and chaste lift to nod at the fingers in deference that doesn't move to kiss, and retreat. Business and form both.

"Then I'm glad you've travelled light. Upon the gate's loss we held with shields until we could effect a retreat of personnel from the compromised position to this location and held here - but the manor grounds were flooded. We've maintained our positions across the campus but the main manor was overrun when we had to give up the flow of people in and it has continued to be. . ."

With a cold cut in, Moissan quotes 'helpfully': "Unacceptable risk to primary objective."

Cartwright's lips thin but there's nothing to smile about. "My direct orders from the Council are to hold and operate these devices, and my rules of engagement strictly forbid using lethal means on local populaces."

Those that Know understand that there are more sentences and qualifications to orders like that. Cartwright does not exhaust himself listing those out and stands on his bond on mission statements and peace missions. Without even hearing James in the car, he aligns with the agent's thoughts on the topic.

When James asks for a briefing, though, Cartwright seems genuinely surprised. It's not about missions and objectives, though.

"Bond? Awakened, Arcanist, or Agent?" Cartwright asks. A brief frown, discipline crashing down from the moment of man-out-of-time recognition, and Cartwright shakes his head. "Never mind. Honored to have the best." He pivots quickly, offering out his hand again as well.

"The timeline is as follows: Several weeks ago, the Foundation saw fit to deploy Sabre squadron to this location to reinforce an important effort for the peace, coordinating with the Sothebys and local Foundation support. Four hours ago, people began to gather outside the gates and were dispersed peacefully, but returned within the half-hour, and massed. An hour and a half ago, approximate, the Manor's front gate was breached by a truck. An hour ago, we finished pulling back from the gatehouse and Ms. Moissan requested assistance from Headquarters." He rattles off, clipped and precise.

The crowd of angry voices grumbles much the same as the accusations outside the walls, but if there's any Manus infiltrators will be work for review as none are apparent currently.

"Thank you for coming, Mrs. Tamamo." Moissan greets, somehow having caught the (terribly important, multiversally) wedding and trying to observe the appropriate language. "The Foundation will take 'any' ringleaders or Manus that can be captured if possible, 'or materials', but I understand that the resources for questioning and recovery can be limited. Three at most, plus any Manus or materials would be a comfortably stunning success. One is more than expected." She responds to Lilian's question, and then nods at Tamamo's 'any selected at random' comment. It would be terribly unlikely the Foundation HQ branch would want some random also-ran rioter.
Timekeeper > Veronica's psychometry

    It's odd. The Sotheby estate is, of course, a nexus for many of the feelings that burn brightly in Chicago at the moment. Ostentatiously wealthy, yet incontrovertibly bizarre, the manor is a golden idol of the wealth and power 'stolen' by arcanists. Sotheby pharmaceuticals are a household name, and thus the household itself is on the forefront of many minds, blamed for manipulating the government, blamed for undermining humanity, blamed for their stinginess and shameless in the same breath-- some, even, justifiably.

    But there's no source for it. It's as if the sentiment is welling out of the ground, like an oil puddle spreading through the city. Within the crowd itself, it's hard to even say whether one person to the next feels more strongly about the riot *they're* participating in. It's as if a zit popped, or magma broke through the earth's crust, directed here for no reason besides being the weakest link. The only conclusion to come to is that this is an entirely natural, spontaneous event.

> Tamamo's magic sense

    There doesn't seem to be any magic around, not in high quantities. There's no atmospheric magic hanging around, or spells being slung from Manus Vindictae agitators hidden within the crowd. The tea leaves stay still and unresponsive, until the tiniest ruffling disruption, like a breeze through dry branches.

    It isn't the entire crowd, nor is it continual back and forth communication-- likely, less than one in a thousand of the people here. But something or someone here is receiving *whispers*.
Regulus Regulus frowns as Vertin doesn't seem satisfied by the explanation. She knows Vertin has what is in Regulus's mind a 'a sense of navigation' that just so happens to work when on land. "...Well, if your instinct points you in a different direction, you can count on us." which would probably be more inspiring if she wasn't trying to avoid being noticed by the Foundation officers she's supposed to be here to help in the first place by using Sonetto as cover.

"Oh hey." Regulus says to Bond, distracted for a moment. "I remember you--" She deftly dodges mentioning 'from the time I ran away from the Foundation for hours and also the Halloween party'. "Don't worry, we'll make sure Sotheby and Karson are A-Okay!" like she's trying to instill confidence in him. Just look at that big smile while her eyes are darting around like she's expecting to get jumped at any moment and has secreted away APPLe into her scarf like HE'S contraband.

r''Even if it's what Team Timekeeper could commit, we appreciate it.''

But she just can't help herself. "Yeah you'll find Time Teamkeeper can handle just about anything!"

"Erm, Captain.."

"Er, Team Timekeeper. You know that is better than Suitcase Squad, I'm sure of it." Regulus says normally then moving into a whisper to APPLe. She uh isn't wearing Foundation pins or colors so she does end up taking one of the white ribbons herself, wrapping it around her neck like a second scarf.

She doesn't think it'll be too hard to find Sotheby, at least, once they get moving. "All set and ready over here, Captain." She tells Vertin.

She looks to Riku and then notices Riku's already moving. "Ahh--Riku, we should--together right?"
Riku Asakura 'Let me know if I should be too, alright?'

Riku curses his poor choice of words, but he nods to the Captain.  "Hopefully, we don't need to be afraid at all!"

'Understood - you're the young man whose arcane skill is becoming larger?'

"Yeah, to sum up things simply, that's right!" Riku says to Moissan.  Riku was still full of nervous energy, but it was still energy.  

'Keep in touch.'

Riku, as he's running deeper into the manor lot, turns and nods to Tamamo before turning around again.  "Will do!" he says, making sure to answer her.  It's important for communication to be kept up in these situations after all!

'Sonetto and I will accompany Riku in retrieving Sotheby and Mr. Karson.'

Riku's run turns into a jog, making sure Sonetto and Timekeeper can keep up with him.  He wants to get in there as soon as possible to make sure the young girl and Mr. Karson are alright; he's afraid for them, especially with there being a communication gap.  

'Ahh--Riku, we should--together right?'

Riku slows down even more for Regulus.  "Yeah we should, I'm just worried for Sotheby and Mr. Karson.  I rather get moving sooner than later."
Lilian Rook     'Repeating the same efforts is unlikely to give better results than before.'

    "Yeah." Lilian sighs, honest just for Tamamo. "They don't deserve them in the first place. I don't intend to bother."

    'Understood. In that case, that would be necessary physical harm.'

    Lilian smiles, tense but not insincere. "God bless." she says, for unclear reasons.

    'An oddly sudden interest, that was, in your pen.'

    She doesn't say a thing about girls with pretty pens. It somehow feels like a stress behaviour.

    'It seems distressingly unlikely that any selected at random... or, perhaps, 'any who remain,' will know anything of interest. The ones who do are more careful.'

    "Of course, of course." Lilian replies, effortlessly patient. Just for Tamamo. "But it's standard practice not to run all of them off. The Foundation will surely want at least a few, if nothing other than to ascertain how this began, though more likely to set an example. You'll see." she says, weirdly reassuringly.

    'It's possible that this is largely organic. Several coordinated local events by the Manus could have seeded enough heated discontent that a breaking point was reached to snowball into this. As we've said, the tensions between class and race differences are already quite high and need little interference. Still.'

<J-IC-Scene> Lilian Rook says, "Let me guess. The stocks tanked and so the vultures are out here in force claiming that someone owes them."
<J-IC-Scene> Riku Asakura says, "Stocks?"
<J-IC-Scene> Lilian Rook says, "You know what a stock market is, don't you?"
<J-IC-Scene> Riku Asakura says, "Oh! Yes!"
<J-IC-Scene> Riku Asakura says, "Sort of."
<J-IC-Scene> Lilian Rook says, "Everyone's a small-time investor in America."
<J-IC-Scene> Riku Asakura says, "I've heard of it, but don't know the details?"
<J-IC-Scene> Riku Asakura says, "Oh!"
<J-IC-Scene> Lilian Rook says, "I think I once heard to the culture attitude referred to as 'temporarily embarrassed millionaires'."
<J-IC-Scene> Riku Asakura says, "Huh."
<J-IC-Scene> Vertin says, "According to the records, the crash of the American stock market occurs on October 29th of this year. Black Tuesday, they call it."
<J-IC-Scene> Lilian Rook says, "I would call that weak evidence if the massacre hadn't been scheduled for the same day as the records."
<J-IC-Scene> Regulus says, "Mmm... I mean it crashes then but there was a lot of evidence about it happening before it hit too."
<J-IC-Scene> Vertin says, "Right. Without direct interference, history moves as it ought."
<J-IC-Scene> Vertin says, "I'll call Madam Z after we've contained this and ask her to check on the state of the market."

    'Lilian shall keep me safe, of course.'

    And yet, her mood falls. Just a little bit, and not for very long, but that momentary sourness leaves her without some of the restless energy she'd come in with. "Of course." Lilian says, in the interests of an abundance of clarity. "First things first, after all."
Lilian Rook     'Sonetto and I will accompany Riku in retrieving Sotheby and Mr. Karson. We'll reconvene here and provide an update on the state of the rest of the property, Agent Moissan.'

    "Thank you very much. I'll leave it in your capable hands." says Lilian, without sounding doubtful. She reaches for a while ribbon from Moissan even though her outfit only needs a checkerboard pattern somewhere to get her told off for impersonating an officer, and ties it into her hair, through the base of her hairpin. She looks, and feels, glad to shake Cartwright's hand.

    Though she prefers not to look it, off the job, she is military. Nova Heliosanctus is two years behind her now, and fighting isn't.

    'Upon the gate's loss we held with shields until we could effect a retreat of personnel from the compromised position to this location and held here - but the manor grounds were flooded. We've maintained our positions across the campus but the main manor was overrun when...'

    "It's difficult, being a saint." says Lilian, commiseratively. Her eyes wander just past his head to the manor, then back again. "Where I come from, these people would have been shot like dogs by now." comes second. She intended to say it vindictively. It comes out more queasy than not instead. "Upholding the peace is much more difficult." she decides, at last.

    'Three at most, plus any Manus or materials would be a comfortably stunning success. One is more than expected.'

    "My my. That's a short order." Lilian raises an eyebrow. "I suppose that'd be difficult if you remained this shorthanded, but I feel as if I'm being sent on a milk run." A little bit of a god complex at this moment helps emotionally remove herself from the unpleasant scenario. The rioting sounds a little quieter in her head. "My 'arcane skill' is doing whatever I want, wherever I want, whenever I want, to whoever I want, and I'm just such a pure-hearted maiden that you'd never know it." Lilian says, and giggles under her breath at her own shitty sense of black humour.

    That all said, she is nothing if not serious about supporting Tamamo, no matter what she might feel at the moment, and Moissan keeping abreast of the most important event affect her entire world (Lilian's wedding) endears her enough to not complain about it. First only standing around Tamamo like a bodyguard while she works, Lilian succumbs to the idle need to move around before she finishes, and casually draws her sword. Though she certainly won't have any occasion to use it, or perhaps precisely because she won't, Lilian goes through the lightest and least distracting training motions in her routine; like getting her 'blade wiggles' out before she hears the verdict.
Veronica     Moissan: "Anyone else?"

    "I'm, uh," Veronica stumbles a little as she is faced with a mental decision: does the Foundation count as "the cops"? She quickly decides that at least for now, they must not be, if Vertin's so comfortable counting on their assistance. "I'm Veronica. I can listen to cities and move stuff with my mind," she says to Moissan, greeting the agent with a nod as white ribbons are handed out. Veronica opts to tie hers on her normal (i.e. right-hand) wrist.

    Even if the Foundation technically already knows about Baker and Seventh, Veronica doesn't bring it up as her primary contribution to this effort. Several things don't sit well with her about the idea of 'dispersing' Manus-controlled stooges with a big stompy building-mech, and she'd rather not be called on to do so at a moment's notice.

    Cartwright: "Four hours ago, people began to gather outside the gates and were dispersed peacefully, but returned within the half-hour, and massed. An hour and a half ago, approximate, the Manor's front gate was breached by a truck."

    "Truck wasn't just from around the corner, either. Somebody brought it here on purpose. With the people coming back... this has gotta be a planned effort."

    "Uehh," is Veronica's next remark on her psychic reconnaissance. "What're those things you've set up around the building?" she asks of Cartwright or Moissan, looking between the two with uncertainty of which Foundation agent is most responsible for the devices. "They make it a little hard to read the air, but... these people are hungry, more than angry. Not for food, it's, it's like an itch?" She makes a mental note to talk to some psychics about how to describe these feelings.

    "And I don't think there's 'leaders' out there, really. Usually there'd be somebody keeping the fires burning, --er, metaphorically. Handing out food and water, making sure people don't just get tired and go home. But this is totally centerless!" Veronica is not quite able to conceal *all* of her amazement, to hide the inkling of a wish that this were *more* common (and, perhaps, directed at better targets). "Everybody just up and made the same decision to come here and get mad and take stuff, and they're not changing their minds. It's almost like... the Sotheby manor isn't just a target. It feels like a *beacon*."
Regulus ''I'm just worried for Sotheby and Mr. Karson.''

"Have some faith, love, they're right tough ones. We rush in and we might run into trouble ourselves." In other words, trust in the Timekeeper's pace.

''You wouldn't happen to know any tunnels or back paths or anything we can use to sneak out of here, would you?''

Regulus turns to Odette and winks at her. "I've been keeping my eyes open." She promises her. "Don't worry, I know my way around the area now. Though we might not need to leave the estate." They do have the Suitcase right here, after all, should it come to it, but if they have to move through the backstreets she can certainly make it easier. "Just be ready in case someone's hurt, alright?"

Regulus is usually pretty content to let the Timekeeper take charge or even Sonetto, but hey if Odette's looking towards her, it's not as if she took charge of a crowd before. Admittedly, of course, she's sort of thinking how Vertin tends to asign her work and objectives that fit within her specialties, interests, and hobbies most of the time--Schneider's words to her about keeping the people in Vertin's care happy (and treating Vertin to lunch after) to heart and, well, she hasn't been able to do the latter yet but she figures she can apply The Vertin Method to Odette and maybe it'll work out? Normally she is more used to trying to pull people into her orbit to get a nice rocking concet on, so this is a bit of an experiment for her.
James Bond Awakened, Arcanist, or Agent?

    Bond smiles wryly. That should answer the question. He nods along with Cartwright's answer.

    "Arguably one of the better field briefings I've gotten," he says, by way of thanks. Still holding the piece to his ear, "It's not terribly organized, from what I can see. No one obviously in charge." He furrows his brow, attention momentarily split more towards the recordings. "'...In charge' isn't the right word for these sorts of things, exactly, but I'm sure you know what I mean. No soapboxes or chants, or anything." He gestures in a vague circle with the index of his free hand.

    "If it actually is spontaneous, then Manus Vindictae have the devil's own luck."
Odette Raskins "How many does the Foundation want for questioning?"
"It seems distressingly unlikely that any selected at random ... will know anything of interest."

"If this is just to cause problems, then... Yes, I think Missus Tamamo's right. But if someone starts giving a big speech, that could be someone worth bringing in, Missus Rook. You know, like a ringleader? Or at least someone in the know wnough to have gotten a speech prepared."

"Don't call them that," "Or think of them that way."
"It's possible that this is largely organic."

"G... Good point. Plenty of these people must be in a pretty bad place, too." Odette agrees with Bond, nodding quickly in his direction. She just kind of stares at him for a second longer than necessary, too, while trying to steady her heartbeat before directing a slower nod towards Vertin. "If they're desperate enough to go this far even with kids around and fighting with armed guards after what happened last time, it can't be good for them at home."

She looks towards the crowd, then away quickly while suppressing the lingering tightness in her chest as she tries not to sympathize too much with the rioters.

"more physical harm than before must be necessary
In that case, that would be necessary physical harm."

Lilian and Sonetto both get nervous shivers out of Odette just from that. She considers saying something to try and pull that back a bit, remembers what she's already seen at the gates, then pushes that thought away easily enough.

"Anyone else?"
"If you meet any other members of Sabre Squadron in the field ... we've arranged the white ribbon as a signal."

"Human here. N-no arcane skills, just a bunch of medicine!" Odette answers Moissan with a raised carrying case, nearly smacking herself in the face with it before lowering it back down to her waist. She'd planned to take that offered cloth from the Foundation agent in a bit, too, but stops in place when she's unexpectedly fussed upon.

"H-huh? Oh, I-um. Okay! Ca-mm." Finding herself flustered more than she would have expected, ODette takes a moment to compose herself with another deep breath before nodding quickly once the ribbon is secured. "Yes, ma'am. I'll return safely with everyone else!"

"There are servant passages we can access through the cellar, which shouldn't have been breached."
"Though we might not need to leave the estate."

"Perfect. Our rescue team can slip in and out faster that way to get Miss Sotheby and Mister Karson, and then we can regroup and get everyone out of here safely." Odette asserts with some more forced confidence to avoid bringing spirits down, keeping one hand firmly on her case's shoulder strap so she has something to hold onto and squeeze a little tension out in the meantime.

Regulus' reassurance gets her to loosen her grip some, and Odette even takes an easier breath a moment later before nodding. "Thanks, Regulus. Yeah, it might be easier to get by if we find a good hiding spot first and wait until the coast is clear. Maybe even the servant passages could work for that, if we slip out while they're alll busy going off somewhere else."

"I'll check on the Sabre Squadron members, then. It'd take a miracle for anyone to get away without injuries fighting for hours like that, and I've got just the things for that. And if anyone manages to slip in past them and everyone else, I've got something for that, too."

Odette helpfully demonstrates by popping her case open, revealing the rows and rows of medical supplies and patches of various colors. She's really packing a lot of medicine and drugs in there, isn't she?
Tamiel Luxis     Oh...I should have introduced myself. Should I now? Tamiel fussed, running a hand down her scarf. --No, no, it's too late now.

    "Anyone else?"

    "I--" She raised her voice a little, to be heard over the riot. "...Can move as a shadow, and use them to keep an eye out." Tamiel looked to Regulus and Vertin, momentarily at war with herself over whether the lack of an invitation meant she wasn't welcome--But everyone was making their decisions, and moving, and she was just standing here--she had to do something!

    "...I'll keep an eye out," she promised, moving her foot to rest in the grass, and beginning to tap it on her shadow, twice. "Maybe I can find out of the little miss is still okay...! And still in her room." Her shadow quivered, splintered, streaked across the ground. They climbed walls and up gates and through windows in liquid shapes, almost like a herd of cats, if you caught them in the light. Her own eyes flickered shut, as her senses moved between different perspectives. Here--watching from a paraphet. There--peering through a window. Elsewhere--peering from behind tall grass.

    Her focus slanted through their eyes, their ears. "Tell me how to get to her room," she said, maybe to the captain, maybe to Moissan--anyone who could answer her. Her eyes spread rapidly throughout the manner, keeping vigil over the various Foundation emplacements, the devastation...and hopefully, soon, a certain troublesome junior alchemist.
Tamamo     '...then we'll have no resort besides physically discouraging a third repeat.'

    She can't help but frown, just slightly, lips a flat line. But Cartwright's answer to Bond, along with Lilian's to Sonetto, leaves little else to mind. 'Dispersal' is a reprieve measured in minutes, here. They haven't arrived early enough to transform either the culture or the local economic conditions, even if those were options the Foundation would accept. "Where half-measures are out, the unpleasant compromise becomes a temptation. To find the third path requires a greater than ordinary cleverness, more than it benefits from merely stubborn effort."

    . . .

    After observing, Tamamo accepts a white ribbon from Moissan with a, "Thank you," and removes her hat so as to tie it in a secondary bow around one loop of her pink band, turn the hat this way and that with a narrowing eye, and then place it carefully back atop her head, apparently satisfied.

    'My direct orders from the Council are to hold and operate these devices...'

    "With the aims of the assault upon the gates being as unclear as they are, can you speak as to whether these devices may be related to it, Captain Cartwright? It would provide a second possibility to that voiced by Ms. Sonetto, or, perhaps..." There's certainly something she's missing, but she hasn't pinned down how to get at it.

    'One is more than expected.'

    Time to give the bad news, then. "If there is any secretive observation or communication being done by arcane means, I am not able to sense it. There is... something, speaking to someone nearby, quietly, but... whomever or whatever that may be, they are not listening in turn, and the number may be no more than a handsful." Not an active tactical planning team, but she wasn't expecting that, either. "'A plan set in motion long before' would be all the more difficult to combat, as a stone rolling and jumping down a hillside."
Timekeeper "Unacceptable risk to primary objective."

    Being nonspecifically, but pointedly, aware of the primary objective in question, Sonetto takes that dry recitation as the word of God. She folds into coordination immediately; it's easy to forget that, in a sidegrade sort of way, she *outranks* Cartwright.

    "Then the grounds besides the objectives are to be evacuated of civilian personnel. If circumstances allow, we will perform a sweep of the manor to expel hostiles," She already forgot about Bond's advice, when face to face with another soldier. "And barricade the entrances, but not before securing Miss Sotheby's safety."

    With an uneasy expression, "If the main house has already been breached, then the likelihood of holding this location as an FOB for headquarters for a long time seems low. We should concern ourselves with a short-term reclamation of the grounds rather than full diffusal of the sentiment behind the riot, in order to create a chance to relocate the objectives safely."

"They make it a little hard to read the air, but... these people are hungry, more than angry."

    Vertin's eyes widen imperceptibly when she turns towards Veronica. "Is there something we can give them to ward them away, then?" A beat, and then as a rhetorical question she already knows the answer to, "Money?"

    Suitcase in hand and fingers on the brim of her hat, businesslike, Vertin asks Moissan a question that any era-local house staff would know to lie about on the spot. "Are there vaults somewhere in the manor? Could they be opened?"

    Preempting the incredulity, she shakes her head. "I'm not planning on paying them off, to be clear. No riot in the world would lessen if the vanguard came back with gold bars in hand. I just believe it's very important to check."

"I'll leave it in your capable hands."

    "Sonetto, Regulus, Riku?" Vertin checks each individually to call them to attention, then addresses Tamiel, "Keep us updates over the radio."

    Then they're off, towards the cellars and passages Moissan indicated. Their brisk pace isn't as anemic as they might look, but the top priority is to stay together, not to sprint at full tilt. Crossing back towards the manor means splitting off of the fortified positions, and that means contending with stray rioters as they mill around the grounds.

"Have some faith, love, they're right tough ones."

    "It's likely Sotheby is out of the way, and a household butler of Mr. Karson's caliber won't be entirely unfamiliar with maintaining the safety of the family in dire straits. Still, mobs often do unpredictable things-- we should find them as quickly as possible."
Tamamo     'They don't deserve them in the first place. I don't intend to bother.'

    "It was a beautiful attempt, and there is value in such a thing. And yet, you are entirely correct."

    'You'll see.'

    A little smile, just for Lilian, to wish her luck. Tamamo is ever one to wish good fortune, even if she hasn't drawn out the possibility, first.

    'Where I come from, these people would have been shot like dogs by now.'

    Distantly, sighing, "Those party crashers were such a long time ago, now..."
Ein Moissan doesn't wait for Captain Cartwright to do his while gab act and smile for the Timekeeper, nodding to Sonetto, Vertin, and Riku briefly and then starting to move out with a digging into a pouch-bag at waist. "Follow me, please. It's not a far walk, but we're losing time." She announces at a jogging volume as she picks up her pace to catch Riku.

When Regulus seems to want to add herself to the pack heading to the Manor proper, her pace slows by half a step and she turns - thankful and regretful in equal measure. "Lady Sotheby does like you, Miss Regulus. I'm sure you'll be able to help." Moissan adds on, the slide of relief and worry settling on a third thing - business, and she returns to her quick march into the woods. Thankfully, she knows the lay of the land! Unthankfully, she doesn't get more than a dozen paces out before she stops and reregisters what Vertin had said. The orders, the way things would go. . . Left her with Cartwright.

She stops, to look at Vertin and look a sort of ashamed, caught in-pace, flustered like a teacher asked a question she had never considered and then acting to first reason through their emotions and having a difficulty. With a breath, she stops, knowing her mistake, and slows down. "Enter the house through the cellar doors, on the west wall. Go through the cask cellar, and up into the kitchen and servant areas. On the third floor - up four flights, don't forget - Sotheby's room is through the false wall and down the hall to the center door."

After her briefing, she turns around and starts walking back towards the Foundation checkpoint.

Meanwhile, Cartwright had, truly, been hoping for something company-strength and is only cautiously hopeful that all his strategic realities will be magically met by outside forces - but he's receptive to the possibility of it. The glowing endorsement and confidence moves a lot, but it leaves the Captain dependent on vanguard irregulars.

"Dame Commander, if you'd like to take operational lead of a recovery and capture effort to address the source of this riot, the Timekeeper's endorsement is enough for me. Not that I can move from my post much, so the division of command seems natural to me." And that she wasn't bound by his rules and could be blamed on any failure but that went without saying. The Foundation and the Paladins had a working relationship and Cartwright was unfortunately in the middle of a Situation that held him in place.

'It's difficult, being a saint.'

"Saint Peter doesn't entertain extenuating circumstances and I'd like to have nothing to report when I meet him, ma'am." Cartwright drawls out to Lilian when their handshake is firm and felt. "Easy doesn't win wars for peace, work does." He continues, the commiserating tone just as genuine. He's glad for the Paladins to be there, and he'll take the psychics and Arcanists that Vertin just seems to roll up too if they're helping. The hippies have better rules of engagement than UN peacekeeping troops.

'That's a short order.'

Moissan, having walked back from her 'briefing jog', shakes her head. "Headquarters budgets a maximum number of discretionary disks for 'emergent objectives'. My allotment is three, and that's including my own spare. 'Parachutes' aren't free to Headquarters." She speaks in curt code.

With Tamamo's direction that such capture will be impossible, Moissan's face falls, a kind of hope in everyone's arrival dashed and already unsteady by her pivot and 'we'll report back!'. As a Field Agent, she was used to acting, and now her mission was oversight and observation, and with Vertin reminding her...

. . . She was reminded she'd rather be doing something else. Not unrelated. Just, something else. Duty pulled her taut more than conflict.
Riku Asakura 'Have some faith, love, they're right tough ones.'
'It's likely Sotheby is out of the way, and a household butler of Mr. Karson's caliber won't be entirely unfamiliar with maintaining the safety of the family in dire straits.'

Riku, faced with these facts, jogs back to walk with Vertin, Sonetto, and Regulus.  He nods, slowly, accepting that he can't just rush off into trouble half-cocked and without a plan.  It hurts that he can't do anything right this moment, but they do have a secret way in, and hopefully, one they can use to sneak around the mob.  

It doesn't lessen his worry for the lady of the house and her butler, but he does manage his nervousness and focus his energy productively.  He listens to the directions given to them by Moissan, but they have limited time.  Who knows where the mob is in the house, if it's there at all.  

Riku matches Vertin's pace this time, instead of running ahead, but he does check his ultracapsules, just in case.  He knows the ones he'll need for the job, especially as they're trying to keep people rioting from being too hurt.  
Regulus Regulus's cheeks pinken just a little at being told that she's liked by a child, mostly because it's a little surprising to be told something like that so directly but also because she's been thinking of what Lilian had said not too long ago abnout how circumstances changing can suddenly make making friends impossible. Sotheby's a kid but she's not unaware of how a certain piece of produce has looked after her. She wants to be able to do that for others. "Well Lady Sotheby is easy to like herself. She ought to be surrounded by friends, family, and adventure."

She's sure she can help Sotheby slip away to wherever, of course, with just a bit of arcane trickery--but Vertin is worried. And that's making Regulus worry. What if there's something she's not seeing that gets her hurt. She's not sure she's ready to see a friend get reversed again, let alone one that's this much younger than she is. Her stomach is feeling a little upsetty at all the stress of it all or maybe it's because she has been largely eating cheeseburgers and drinking soda over the past few days.

''Directions.''

Oh god that's so many steps. Regulus looks at the second brain on her team to confirm that he's got everything in HIS noggin because she's pretty sure she's gonna forget at least one of those steps no matter how well intentioned she's being.

"I've got it all, Captain. Never fear."

"Right. Through the cellar doors first, Riku. Cask cellar and into the kitchen and--we'll go from there." She smiles at Moissan reassuringly despite everything since she can be a cowardly lion and a courageous one at the same time.

''Sonetto, Regulus, RIku?''

Regulus bobs her head at Vertin. "Ready, love." And off they go, Regulus giving one last glance to Odette but otherwise sstays focused on the voyage ahead.

While they walk, Regulus looks to Vertin, "Were you considering holing up in the vault?" Regulus asks.
Ein When Tamamo asks about the Devices, Moissan and Cartwright 'share' a look as much as a Field Agent with shaded eyes in portrait and someone wearing a chess mask can do so. Moissan tilts her head and nods, and then begins. "The Foundation's objective on the manor grounds is the preservation of these devices provided by Laplace."

Cartwright, trying to help, and having been given lead and leave in gesture by Moissan, glances at the fence-gate behind him. "I have been told directly by the Council that these devices will 'ensure the safety of the surrounding area', and. . . the riot hasn't targeted them. They've been more interested in the statues and mountings and the manor house. It's why we couldn't affect a rescue: the riot's force was moving past us." Cartwright explains, and then surveying past people to a group of people having been tended to by Odette milling around and watching their group in turn from across the empty roadway and down a bit, a kind of milling confusion and a generally undirected malaise keeping them here, drawing them back even if they were repelled just prior.

Bond's pickup takes some time to work through because it sounds... like people grumbling! It sounds like venting, bitching, hungry people starved for something they just needed another grip of. A listlessness, an energylessness that was the body's natural reaction to a low resource environment, a dragging readiness. Deeper in, remote pickups could find more of an aggression and pointedness, a knowledge and action statement to the act, but it remained a very pedestrian yet directed hungry looting.

Closer in, Vertin seems to land on the point immediately and Cartwright emotes widening-eyes and blinking with brow and cheek motion alone. "Wait. You can't be serious-- no, you are." Struck by it like a blow the eureka moment rattles the Foundation captain. "The manor *is* the riot's objective, the building. The posts on the far side didn't even report being attacked. We were just in the way. . ."

"Lady Sotheby hasn't been formally introduced to society, and the outing she most recently had into Chicago was the first time she had been off-campus since coming home from the hospital. It's unlikely she's the direct target. That either means general looting, or, specifically, the manor's vault system."

Vault *system*. The Sothebys were the gold-spinners of the alchemical world and thus were wealthy on the level of nation-states, and of course they couldn't remand their witch-aurum to human vaults! Not that anyone would know once mineral and magic gold was mixed, but such things obsessed the mind of the human financier and finance fancier both.

Sonetto has marching orders and time is of the essence - half the gang's already gone and they're still in the limbo of motion! Cartwright doesn't have time to respond to Sonetto's orders but he can carry them out and not argue with the younger woman's directions in the face of Strategic Realities. He turns to James', Tamamo's, and Veronica's questions instead.

"The... Devices are for an experimental defense network that should erect a kind of shield around the manor. This 'stable location' has been predicted to be one of the possible areas the Foundation could make a. . . permanent branch office in, and once the riot is dispersed or runs out we can repair any damage to the local structures. It's got a buzz?"

There's a weaving of some of his information being sieved through need-to-know release, and then an addendum in pure unfiltered man-on-the-ground honesty. "Someone wearing an even bigger mask than I do said the buzzing meant it worked. I didn't ask, ma'am."
Tamamo     'Saint Peter doesn't entertain extenuating circumstances and I'd like to have nothing to report when I meet him, ma'am.'
    Moissan's face falls, a kind of hope in everyone's arrival dashed and already unsteady...

    "Well, now, there are still ways to keep our hands as clean as can be, if all we wish for is to keep people away." Tamamo still hasn't learned what the Devices are for. Along with Veronica -- who gets a curious look after her report on psychic energies -- Tamamo would like to hear about that.

    "If these," withdrawing a thick stack of paper talismans bound in twine from her handbag, "are placed close enough together in an enclosing circle, we can begin to separate a space inside from that outside. An opposing arcanist might find gaps in such a technique, but a mass of at least moderately confused people unaware of the technique will not."

    Looking toward Lilian, "I am sure I will find some volunteers to assist in placing them, if you would like to handle other matters first, o dearest one."
James Bond      Bond lowers the headpiece. It retracts back into place as a convincing clasp on the briefcase.

    "Have you read about the Russian revolution of 1905?" asks Bond, brow raised. "When the Bolsheviks took the Winter Palace from the provisional government, they pillaged it--of course, the eyewitness accounts made it sound like pandaemonium, and I'm sure it was. But there's something lost in a lot of those reports, and it's how truly despised the tzar's regime was, and how woefully inadequate the provisional government that came after."

    "In that context, why wouldn't they? It was a symbol of everything they hated. The people you want to talk to are further inside, not out in the crowd. I picked up on a lot more intentionality coming from there."

    "As for the crowd, I'd suggest something to confuse ally and enemy. Food, maybe. Water. Shade. Something simple enough not to be condescending, but material enough to seed a little doubt and take the legs out from under this. I know you don't have numbers, but if you have a contact who can get those things here, I'm happy to make the call *and* foot the bill."
Odette Raskins "You've got this. We'll hold the lines here!" Odette encourages the rescue team, giving Regulus a quick fist pump as if trying to bolster her confidence? Whose? She's pretty sure Regulus is way more confident than herself at any given moment, but the mood just felt right for it.

Turning her attention back to Cartwright, meanwhile, the EMT scrunches her face a bit as she hears about what's been targeted by the riot. "The statues and...? Oh yeah, the gates and the statues before WERE really messed up. Like-"

What was it like again? "They were broken, but not snapped-broken. More like they had been scraped down, or... Whittled? Statues usually don't break in the way I saw them before, and it'd be way easier to knock them over than scrubbing them down to the base like that."

Unlike Vertin, however, Odette's still clueless about what she had actually meant even when Cartwright catches on to something regarding money and the vault. "It is? The manor... Is there something in the manor that would be making the people out there want to scrape gates and statues apart instead of-"

Instead of what? If they were just hungry, there would've been easier places to get it. If they wanted money, charging the manor would've made more sense instead of wearing down the statues. No matter how much she runs through that image in her head, it never quite makes sense enough to take Odette the rest of the way to a conclusion.

"The... Devices are for an experimental defense network"

That's something that Odette can hook onto, although it does have to come in between bursts of scurrying about to make sure the perimeter's Sabre Squadron guards are checked on with painkillers, topical healing, and energy drinks.

"I wonder if that defense network is what's setting them off. It's not something that messes with anyone's minds, is it?" She asks during one of those scurrying-breaks, a thoughtful frown crossing her face before long. "Something intense enough to make someone want to scrape down hard gates of all things? I-I've heard long term exposure even to really quiet weird noises can mess with people's heads, so a loud weird noise might be even faster."
Ein MEANWHILE. . .

The path to the manor would be shorter in a car, but it'd be shorter without trees or people in the way too. Moving through the terrain with Riku and Vertin in the lead, the split off gang encounters the edge of a milling crowd of people, some just passed out where they leaned against a tree, others milling about but not reacting to more people *approaching* the house. Some people yell at Riku, one particular person calls his jacket stupid and then asks him for his buttons but is lost in the jog, and then...

The manor isn't burned, because they wanted in, and nobody really stopped them. The front facade has been trampled and climbed on in the hour it's been such that there's not a recognizable front of house left, stripped of the ringing of the columns and somehow lathed off of the leaf and detailing and all the metal and gold. Shaved to the wood and stone, it's like a different place entirely, a different animal than any on the pedestals and stripped to a raw nakedness.

With a clever eye, knowing basically where to look, and using the servant paths, the manor group can make their way into the boozy and pungent cellar full of full barrels as well as racks of corkage. Down wide stairs and through narrow passages, the electricity to this area is still flickeringly functioning and so the lamps reveal that the cellar is not just 'practically' but materially untouched. The gang aren't alone down in the cellar - there's distant sounds of others looking around in there - but nobody is ripping the place apart for the stinky cheeses and fine wines. The servant corridors are just not used, and there isn't anyone hiding out in there since the majority of the house servants were sent home for the season when the Foundation had moved in.

Deeper inside, past walls, it sounds like the place is under construction. There is a great upturning happening that Tamiel's shadow looms over, peering in through windows that are being carefully peeled of their metals precious and semi-precious, the jewels being prized from rings and the careful pantrying of loot when people finish self-provisioning. Teams seem to work, and break up, and merge, and roam, and fight over the wrong piles after thinking a rival had taken their loot, and...

James isn't wrong that there's hatred here but it's not so much for gold and wealth. Forces are at work, just past the narrow walls and backs of false doors in the corridors to lead back into the manor proper.

It's tight in the staircases, only wide enough to carry a tray narrowly and walk up and down single file, but with some scampering everyone can get through even if Vertin has to tuck the suitcase a bit narrowly in their wake to fit. On the third floor exit, as Riku leads pushing his way out, the door peek he motions through - he's a careful boy, right? - leaves him peek-to-peek with another set of eyes through the central door, which is cracked open so someone can surveil from the interior of the room what's going on.

Of course, outside both doors, on the L bend of a hallway, is the riot's ongoing efforts, across the whole U of the third floor rooms. There's a majority of the people on the ground, first, and second floors and pioneers thick on the third, sizing up the spot. The third floor was less likely to have the vaults, and the fourth and final floor even less so, so the ones on the interior now were scrounging for valuables while kicking around the garish eccentric's mansion. So, not Searching so much as deliberately looting the gold off the walls and valuables off pedestals and appreciating (badly) art.

Across the way, Mr. Karson's catch Riku's, through the cracks in their respective doors, and he disappears after a few moments, the door closing quietly. With Karson in sight, there's just the riot between them and extraction to deal with... plus Sotheby.
Veronica     Sonetto: "And barricade the entrances, but not before securing Miss Sotheby's safety."

    Veronica nods. "I can help with barricades, definitely." She eyes the truck - useful scrap metal! Hooray!

    Vertin: "Is there something we can give them to ward them away, then? Money?"

    "I don't know if that would satisfy them or rile them up more," Veronica says. "Besides, is there any opulence in Chicago that could compare with Sotheby Manor *and* be portable enough to lead these folks away?"

    Bond: "As for the crowd, I'd suggest something to confuse ally and enemy. Food, maybe. Water. Shade. Something simple enough not to be condescending, but material enough to seed a little doubt and take the legs out from under this."

    Veronica holds up a finger, tipped gently toward Bond in recognition of the good idea. "Oh, that's smart. Like I was just saying, really - if this were a 'normal' riot folks'd need those things and somebody would be providing them." A pause as she considers something, then looks to Cartwright. "Do we have enough time to let word spread of that naturally? If we got something set up a few blocks away I reckon I could use Baker and Seventh's loudspeakers to let people know about it in a hurry, though I dunno if I'd want too many people to *see* my EGO gear. Just to hear it."

    Cartwright: "Someone wearing an even bigger mask than I do said the buzzing meant it worked. I didn't ask, ma'am."

    "...You sure?" Veronica says, raising an eyebrow as she looks out over the gathered crowds. "I'd have thought it's past time for a shield to come in handy."
Lilian Rook     'Arguably one of the better field briefings I've gotten'

    "MI6 is a sorrier outfit than I imagined." Lilian says, half cheeky, half commiserative. She knows perfectly well by now, of course, having helped get Bond out of it in the past.

    'If it actually is spontaneous, then Manus Vindictae have the devil's own luck.'

    "Hardly. If you bet on the worst nature of a large number of people, you'll usually be right."

    'Where half-measures are out, the unpleasant compromise becomes a temptation. To find the third path requires a greater than ordinary cleverness, more than it benefits from merely stubborn effort.'

    "I've never been good with temptation." Lilian smiles wearily at Tamamo. "You're always more clever than me anyways, so I'll leave it in your hands."


<J-IC-Scene> Tamamo says, "I have looked for signs of spies, of speaks and listeners and watchers."
<J-IC-Scene> Tamamo said 'speakers.' "Of these, I have found fewer than expected, but more than none."
<J-IC-Scene> Tamamo says, "There are but a few who are receiving words from elsewhere, and these are quiet. Of the source, I have not yet followed it. These are not like to be the organizers we hoped to exist."
<J-IC-Scene> Lilian Rook says, "No sense not bagging them just to be sure"
<J-IC-Scene> Tamamo says, "If we can find them... perhaps if I was closer?"
<J-IC-Scene> Lilian Rook says, "I wouldn't like it if you were closer."
<J-IC-Scene> Lilian Rook says, "Do you have any vague ideas? Identifying features? Specific words or thoughts?"
<J-IC-Scene> Lilian Rook says, "My divination is better suited to the very near term."
<J-IC-Scene> Tamamo says, "It was difficult to find even this much... and if they are only being 'spoken to,' they will not be giving themselves away in speaking back, but..."

    ''A plan set in motion long before' would be all the more difficult to combat, as a stone rolling and jumping down a hillside.'

    The truth is that Lilian doesn't feel very invested in stopping anyone's plans right now. She hadn't been lying when she argued with Regulus that she felt combating Manus Vindictae was neither pointless nor impossible nor wrong, but she doesn't see Manus Vindictae here; except the cold and clammy ghost of their message, whispered under the frothing hysteria of a thousand rabid humans, devouring that little girl's home like flies. What Lilian feels invested in is teaching each and every one of these people that there are consequences to their actions, even if they're directed at 'arcanists', and that what she thought she'd gotten over years ago suddenly feels so fresh and raw when it's happening to someone else instead of her; someone who doesn't deserve it, instead of someone who deserves so much worse than she gets.
Lilian Rook     'If the main house has already been breached, then the likelihood of holding this location as an FOB for headquarters for a long time seems low. We should concern ourselves with a short-term reclamation of the grounds rather than full diffusal of the sentiment behind the riot, in order to create a chance to relocate the objectives safely.'

    "Unfortunate, but unless the Foundation is willing to send more personnel or resort to more stringent security measures, not untrue." Lilian says, grimly. "I'd like to advocate our setting up a permanent ward at this location to prevent unauthorized entry in future. I don't want to take the backfoot to Manus Vindictae because a horde of bad gamblers want to scrape the gold off the floor tiles."

    'Money?'

    Lilian turns and blinks at Vertin incredulously. "Do you think that . . . ?" No, of course it wouldn't. "And what happens when they spend it all again and know you'll give them more? Come now." she says, richly.

    '"I'm not planning on paying them off, to be clear. No riot in the world would lessen if the vanguard came back with gold bars in hand.'

    "Naturally." says Lilian, instantly soothed and cooperative agian.

    'It was a beautiful attempt, and there is value in such a thing. And yet, you are entirely correct.'

    "Everything you do is beautiful." Lilian huffs, then relents seconds later. ". . . I was hoping it would work too. No matter if I get angry before, I never feel good about this after." she says. And yet, she feels no more reluctant in the slightest.

    'Dame Commander, if you'd like to take operational lead of a recovery and capture effort to address the source of this riot, the Timekeeper's endorsement is enough for me.'

    "Well well. Now I feel like I'm under review." Lilian quips, sheathing her sword again and firmly setting it into place. "I'd hate to put anything less than a mirror shine on Vertin's good name, so I suppose I'll have to be careful." She's joking, but it's unfortunately quite true.

    'Saint Peter doesn't entertain extenuating circumstances and I'd like to have nothing to report when I meet him, ma'am.'

    "With any luck, it'll be a while before you have to worrying about going up clean to Jesus." Lilian laughs. "I'm almost jealous. Not of your job, though. I can only tolerate civilians in small doses." The fact that she said it in the same way as 'men' with Margaret and 'humans' with Schneider is one that she hopes is lost on everyone.

    'Headquarters budgets a maximum number of discretionary disks for 'emergent objectives'. My allotment is three, and that's including my own spare. 'Parachutes' aren't free to Headquarters.'

    Thinking about ritual disks makes Lilian think of Mesmer Junior and her deranged remote control fantasies. She shakes her head to clear up her instantly foul mood, and replies only "Understood. I'm glad my particular skillset will be of assistance." The irony strikes her in a certain way. 'Teleporting' is the most strenuous and least useful application of her skillset, and yet, that eggshell isn't one she intends to put her weight on any time soon. "Captain." she says, raising her voice for attention as she turns back to Cartwright. "Will I be in the clear leaving detainees in your care for the time being, or will I be expected to transport them immediately?" Incidentally, no doubt, she flexes her fingers back with both palms, one after the other, squeezes her knuckles until they crack, then extends her arms out over her head and leans one way and then the other.
Riku Asakura Someone calls his jacket stupid, which causes him to frown.  It's his favorite jacket, and it looks good on him, or so he thinks.  He pretends to ignore the comment because it's very hurtful, but it lingers in the back of his mind.  Something he can worry about later!  However, he also asks him for his buttons.  That's weird.  This guy was weird, and he'll have to take what he said with a grain of salt.  He loses him in the jog to the manor.  

Riku takes a moment to look over the stripped manor.  Shocked at how different it looks, stripped of all of the outer gold and decorations it had before, shaved down to its bare essentials.  There is no way that the lady of the house could be sheltered from this... It's sad in a way, having your home destroyed.  Something Riku sympathizes with.

Down in the basement, the place stank of wine.  However, it was virtually abandoned.  Good, Riku moves carefully with the group, though he wonders if any of the servants were sent home before the riot or were hiding out somewhere here.  Something he should have asked before rushing after the lady of the house.  

Through the tight corridors of the servants' backrooms, Riku is starting to feel claustrophobic.  Eventually reaching a door near Sotheby's room.  Riku is, in fact, careful, wanting to make sure they're not caught before they have to be.  He notices that the people here were just searching for things to steal.  

"Why are they stealing everything not nailed down... and then things that are nailed down too.  What's going on with these people..." he wonders aloud to the group.  Eventually, he sees Mr. Karson's eyes across the way.  He looks down the hall towards those who are looting the place.  It's not likely they're going to get out without revealing Sotheby if they go directly there.

"I can distract the mob, try and lead them away from Sotheby and Mr. Karson.  I'll probably have to turn into Ultraman Geed to do so, but I have an idea of what form to use to minimize suffering.  What do you guys think?"  He asks Vertin, Sonetto, and Regulus.  No longer just charging ahead thoughtlessly.  They needed a plan, right?  
Lilian Rook     'I am sure I will find some volunteers to assist in placing them, if you would like to handle other matters first, o dearest one.'

    "I was hoping you'd ask~" says Lilian, turning her hand over and fondly glancing down at her ring, right before she states "Nóiméad ansin." and disappears.

<J-IC-Scene> Tamamo says, after a rather long pause, "I can give you a direction."
<J-IC-Scene> Tamamo says, "I only have to listen very carefully."

    Following Tamamo's directions is the easiest time Lilian ever has with the concept. The way that Tamamo perceives 'the threads of fate' is, as always, complimentary to Lilian's own more-vague-yet-more-specific ability to intuit 'what she wants'. As long as she acts in alignment with her wife, what she wants is whatever Tamamo is looking for, and thus the limitation ceases to matter.

    Resolving all the same to start preparing better for field divination in the future all the, inspired by half-articulated thoughts of Matilda as she goes, Lilian stalks around the mansion grounds as Tamamo directs, shutting her eyes to focus in the scattered pockets where she is free of the mob, and resentfully opening her mind to the animal chorus of their outpouring thoughts when she has to be immersed. Repeatedly checking her actions against a probabilistic-precognitive walkthrough to course correct as she goes, and scanning more specifically for thought patterns more similar to a phone conversation than not in order to home in, Lilian doesn't even try to particularly conceal her approach until the last minute, using the structure and the human throng rather than anything so obvious as the shadows to first get a self-indulgent glimpse of her target.

    Within the tactical half of her messenger bag, her side-dropped hand finds the usual spool of synthetic cable.
Regulus Regulus isn't the sort of person who typically is upset when people are looting--it's Sotheby she's worried about rather than cash or, like, copper wiring. Like geeze, they're really going at it but so long as they're focused on looting they aren't focused on violence and that's an exchange Regulus will make every time. And she's all too happy to let a guy who can become Big lead the way too.

''I can distract the mob, try and lead them away from Sotheby and Mr. Karson.''

"That doesn't sound like a bad plan. I'll invisible the rest of us. So long as they don't notice a door opening, it'll be fine. And they probably uh--wouldn't if they see an Ultraman Geed right? It's pretty flashy? Can you handle all that?"

She looks back to Sonetto and Vertin. "I'll hit us with some camoflauge if this is what you want to go with? You good?"

She reaches for a bangle on her bag that isn't there anymore, then grimaces and wiggles her finger around as she works her arcane skill on everyone.
Timekeeper "On the third floor - up four flights, don't forget - Sotheby's room is through the false wall and down the hall to the center door."

    "Got it."

    Don't worry, Regulus! Both Vertin and Sonetto are almost supernaturally competent at exactly this sort of thing! Memorizing maze directions should never need to trouble your pretty little head.

    Sonetto in particular can take point on this, pushing open the cellar doors with Vertin seamlessly closing them behind Regulus and Riku without a word of communication. Vertin's hypersensitive awareness for arcanum would preempt any surprise Manus Vindictae infiltrator from ambushing them, but the lack of them continues to be eerie-- the sea of unmitigated humanity is like tinnitus in the absence of an agitator.

"She ought to be surrounded by friends, family, and adventure."

    "What has Mr. Sotheby been doing all this time..." Vertin murmurs to herself, but it's loud in the quiet of the dark cellar passages. "Even now, we've been unable to contact him. I'd suspect him assassinated if not for the correspondence of his travels."

    Vertin voices aloud what could easily otherwise be taken for granted, putting it to text on page like a proclamation. "They're not touching the cheese and wine. Only the gold." She eyes a wheel of cheese, worth thousands of dollars, picked up and tossed aside by one of the roaming rioters.

    The Sotheby manor isn't ever the most 'lived in' of homes at the best of times, but there's still something depraved about seeing the bones of it being picked clean for pennies. Or, more accurately, unfathomable sums of money that would feed a family for months with just the vulture-scavenge that could be stuffed into your pockets. Vertin quietly reflects on that, at the thin scrapings of an un-leafed pillar.

    "In the aftermath, with no one dead, I wonder if we'd be able to say that the city was overall unhappier for this happening? If this were a natural event without the Manus Vindictae's interference, in the records of 1999, this might've been called heroic. Looking at it, though...."

    "Even without her being their target, there is a high likelihood that Miss Sotheby would be taken for ransom if the mob came across her," Sonetto interjects to prompt Vertin out of her reverie. Then her eyes follow behind Riku, and see Karson just before the door closes. "Ah-! Mr. Karson!"

    To Riku, "Is Ultraman Geed not several stories tall?" Sonetto sounds perturbed at the thought of Riku suggesting that he should become thirty feet tall inside the third floor of a building, and assumes he must mean something else. "Is there a smaller one?"

    "Regulus, get to Sotheby from here and take APPLe." For directions mostly. "Bring her back to the staircase under invisibility and meet back up with us."

    "Riku, transform and do what you can to corral the civilians towards the stairs down. Sonetto, wall them off from regaining their ground afterwards. I'll grab Karson."

    Then, with Sonetto dropping fragmentary prisms of light down from rings of sonnets, and Vertin hurrying through the door Karson retreated behind and informing him forcefully that Sotheby is being accounted for and the directive now is to retreat, it's back out of the manor.
Tamiel Luxis     "...Looters, they're just looters..." Tamiel responded, uneasy. "But--why now? The worst thing hasn't happened yet? This is just another day." She shakes her head to clear her thoughts, and looks to Vernoica. "They're even fighting each other over what's there? They're not even taking the most valuable stuff...! Just, the gold, the gems..."

    "It doesn't make sense that there's no leaders--someone should have made a speech, or led them here, or gave them teh idea, even if they're not here. Or even just organized it with them. Or some big tragedy or omen, that puts the same thought into everyone's heads. That's how it goes, historically..."

    "But, Vernoica says no one is leading this, and if Tamamo's right, magic isn't making them like this either...? I don't know how to make it make sense." There was something at play here, and Tamiel felt like she was so, so close to putting the pieces together. "There's something we're missing!"
Riku Asakura 'Can you handle all that?'

Riku nods to Regulus, "Of course, I can.  It should be easy."

'Is Ultraman Geed not several stories tall?'

"I can control how tall Ultraman Geed becomes.  I can make him as tall as a normal human, if I want.  Which, given the situation, is what I'd do.  We don't need a giant tearing through the house right now, right?" he says to Sonetto with a smile.  

'Riku, transform and do what you can to corral the civilians towards the stairs down.'

"Sure thing," Riku says, and grabs two of the Ultracapsules from his capsule holder, and draws out the Fusion Riser.  "You go!" he says, activating the first capsule.  "I go!" he says, activating the second one.  Both go into a capsule holder for the time being.  "Here we go!" he says, scanning each one before, pushing the door open, and standing in the middle of the hallway.

"I'll show you something shocking!" he says, again, and holds the Fusion Riser in the air, before bringing it down over his chest.  "GEEEEEEEEED!" he shouts, as blue flame burns off of his body.  

FUSION RISE!
ULTRAMAN HIKARI
ULTRAMAN COSMOS
ULTRAMAN GEED ARCO SMASHER

With that, Ultraman Geed stands where Riku was a few moments ago, standing at human height instead of a giant.  Instead of the normal reds that he usually is, he's mostly blue with silver highlights.  He also moves differently in this form, each step measured carefully and almost gently.  

He's just got to get them to the stairs, and Sonetto would cut them off from here.  He reaches both hands out and makes a cross with his arms.  A beam fires out from them, aiming to push the group back, trying to corral them to where he needed them to go so that Sonetto could cut them off.  

It doesn't harm them, instead simply pushing them back with a non-lethal beam of force.
Regulus ''What has Mr. Sotheby been doing all this time...''

"I sure couldn't tell you." Regulus grumbles. "It's not that weird in theory but--" Well there IS gold here, even if he didn't care about his kid, wouldn't he care about his money? Maybe not to endanger himself, but like--just how inhuman does she guess at Mr. Sotheby being? When Sotheby herself is so sweet. Does this make an unhappier city? Overall?

"Probably not," Regulus admits. "But sometimes you gotta worry for the person before the society, love. I know Sotheby would feed them all and gift them whatever they wanted if they were just a little nice to her. That's the kind of person Sotheby is." She pauses as if rethinking what she just said. "Honestly, she'd probably do it even if they weren't being all that nice either. Just not terrorizing."

It does feel a little weird to be stepping against the common folk over the zillionaire but she's seen and known Sotheby. She can't just say it's just one kid.

''Is Ultraman Geed not several stories tall?''

"He wouldn't--" Regulus begins, with wide eyes, now imagining Geed just busting his head through the roof of the manor. No, no, there MUST be a Little Geed. Sonetto must be right on this. A Small Geed. Normal Sized. What if she agreed to him going Geed and he just shattered the whole place because she didn't imagine him going Big?! She'd get into so much trouble! She hopes Riku thought that through too!

''Regulus, get to Sotheby from here and take APPLe. Bring her back to the staircase under invisibility--''

"Got it."

Regulus, and APPLe with her, promptly vanish from sight. She just needs an opening to get moving.

''I'll show you something shocking! GEEEEEEEED!''

Oh my god he has to shout the GEEEEEED as part of the whole thing. He's glowing. He's shouting things like FUSION RISE and COSMOS and all these other things. Okay, that's an incredible distraction but she's still caught off guard by how loud it is!

It's fine for her, though, as it gives her an opening to slip on through and make her way towards the door, "It's me--" She murmurs quietly in a break between greeble sound effects before attempting to open the door and slip her way through on to Sotheby.
Timekeeper     To Lilian's view, there's no one that the mob is organizing around. What Tamamo senses is a brushing of magical intention towards a certain location, like the wind and a weathervane-- like, more accurately, the swell of the rising sea, currents rocking against the entire world, and only one mind open to receive it. Despite their radio signal-esque quality, those whispers aren't being relayed as instructions, either magically or verbally.

    What threatens Lilian the most in the crowd isn't the physical crush of bodies, which she can stop at any time, or even their mob-based malevolence. It's the fact that, in arm's reach, every hand goes straight for her glittering white-gold hairpin, a second hand lunging from behind when she fends one off from the front, a cane swiped as an extended arm to knock it off of her head, ceaselessly until she's navigated her way to a pocket of breathing room. 'What she wants' of course, inevitably, guides her to them as frequently as possible, but the crowd is singlemindedly hungry. If she wore a more exposed outfit, it's easy to imagine them aiming to do to the tattoo on her back what they did to the statues in the yard.

    Touching their minds: there's greed everywhere, as seems perfectly obvious from their actions. Their thoughts are so unified in direction that they can be practically filtered into one clangorous sound, making it easy to skim over until--

    and the whispers promise heaven and hell in the same breath. children of flesh, hear the word of the divine and bear witness to your unworthiness in the face of unassailable truth of the time before time. the deep blue-black of the ocean's depths, pure sheet white, fossils embedded in basalt grey, and in the patterns of the thoughtless cells that died when the earth still rolled with magma and before the sun settled on yellow glimpse for a moment Her design--

    One singular woman in a black mask, hands with fingers interlocked over her eyes, stumbles around with the crowd. Not one of the others seems to think the mask is noteworthy, maybe not even noticing it, stealing whatever gold she halfheartedly scrapes to herself as they would any weaker member of the pack. The maddening stream of breathy chanting touches Lilian's mind for just a moment before she pulls away.

    There's no answers to get, or captives to secure, though. Once Lilian's attention lands on her, it's the same story as before. With a pained cry, the nonsense almost-words babbling out of her mouth are choked out by black, followed soon by blood, and then a sickening crunch. In her place is a geometrical mass of ivory teeth and black flesh, for Lilian alone to put down before it mows through the crowd towards her.
Ein Cartwright looks to Moissan, the one assigned to Know things. Moissan dips her chin, realizing why she had to be here, too, then lifts it with a little more pride. "Mrs. Tamamo is a skilled talisman-user and can be treated as equivalent or superior to Headquarters issued tools." Moissan vouches quickly, a little stiff and pivoting to adjunct role.

"How many's effective? I can send two of my scouts as runners to the rear three posts if we have enough for coverage, and we can decamp from here leaving the guard plus our wounded if we have to. The riot happened out of nowhere and there's no test scheduled for tonight so we weren't on any kind of special alert." He admits, the kind of detail that might be important for deduction by people with a better analytical sense than he. That he couldn't rule out the foul play of their enemy was the instinct of a military commander, but...

He had so far avoided just attacking civilians of the era for their actions. Could they keep it up? Time would tell, and relief was not guaranteed - but people were here.

"If we can free up our ability to move with the wards, we can start sweeping and securing the area. Assistance with rebuilding the front gate will go even further, as long as we can get people out of it. Your telekinetic friend might even be able to push the bars upright again, but if Christmas is eight months early I'd like several other things too."

The easy chuckle of someone getting more relieved by degrees as people talk sense rolls from Cartwright. Moissan retains her tension, the shaded-eyes portrait looks and flat affect direction and analysis as needed.

'...You sure?'

Veronica's question gets another puff of tight chuckle from Cartwright. "It's not that sort of shield, miss. It's why we fenced off. The devices have to remain in alignment and powered at all times, or our mission is failed. We know, because of the buzzing, but it's..."

"It's not that kind of shield." Moissan repeats, gentler but also pointed. It was 'for the peace', but, it wasn't a shield to barrier against *people*. That was a bit too mundane for a special operations squadron from Foundation HQ.

'I'd hate to put anything less than a mirror shine on Vertin's good name, so I suppose I'll have to be careful.'

"More than willing to let an expert do their preferred role. You can bring your prisoners back here or if they're secured all the way to our medical tent. If we can question them here, we can save the disks back the Headquarters. I'm going to assemble those runners for the talismans - Mrs. Tamamo?"

Tamamo, if she follows Captain Cartwright, is led a little deeper into the fence-cordoned and tarped in area which has concrete barricades and anachronistic lead walls and stamped steel painted chessboard wood-white interstitial barricades around what looks like strange broadcast tower and radar mast in one, too low to the ground and heavily cabled in a perversely organic (or of profane management of wires) tangles to be the same clean and crisp almost statue lines of the Foundation's usual aesthetic. Certainly - a lot closer to the Laplace style. It bleeds a kind of buzz that Tamamo picks up on her magical senses more than her physical ones, causing her to understand it as operating some-how in a spiritual level passively. Causing ripples in a windy pond in excess due to the presence of a stick or staking around the wound-obstruction caused further eddies, a turbulence that created a dissociated sound in the inner ear.

The buzz meant it was working.
Ein Cartwright signals over a few other men with less visible gear and full forest ponchos and hoods on over their whites, not having been among the wounded. "Take as many talismans as she tells you to, to the rear three sites - deploy them as indicated. Another team will set up in the near side outpost. Ma'am?" The soldier makes another 'after you' gesture to allow Tamamo to place her warding talismans as she saw fit near the Device, or deeper in towards the fenced in command tent and medical area that Odette had passed out essentials to just moments earlier.

MEANWHILE...

The Manor plan is perfect, including all participants, but their pathway through the servant halls is one that intersects several rioters who millingly notice when Ultraman Geed appears in his shining and digetically announced transforming hero act and mostly point at him and shout in absolute confusion as such things largely are street acts or extremely Arcanist based activities, and then further comment is essentially cut short as Ultraman Geed freem's the whole crowd of them with a wide diffusion of kinetic force, scattering the gathered and lathed off gold and collected objects of value into the walls just like their collectors are in the same blasting of energy. Several are bounced into walls, others are bowled over, but in all ways there is a delightful distraction for an invisible Regulus.

Sprinting across the hallway as Ultraman Geed does his heroic pointman act, Regulus pushes into a sitting room that's clearly Sotheby's, two big couches facing each other with a desk in the middle, shelves and shelves of vials and artifacts and art and every little bit and bob, huge collections of untouched tchotchkies and dolls and toys in fanciful dioramas. There is a whole wall dedicated to the adventure of a recurring black rabbit moving through all kinds of little locations.

There is also someone just inside the door, clubbed into sadly groaning on the floor and faintly going 'uhugurgh' while Regulus passes. Mr. Karson, ready with a walking stick raised up to strike someone coming in, doesn't catch Regulus ducking through the ingress, and the sneaky brit can dash in.

Past that, Sotheby's room is... cavernous, high ceilings and color everywhere in vial and crystal and thing, workbenches and a big four post bed and chests and every kind of thing in the world. Sit up on her bed, with her knees drawn up, is a faintly sniffling Sotheby, with her eyes wide and misty. Against her chest she holds her heavy bag, overfulled with every kind of thing and clinking with glassware. In one hand, raised as the interior door opens, is a trio of green vials. Across her back and perched on shoulder is a black stuffie which holds a second vial ready to hand to her, vaguely animate.

There's a breath, a trembling word, when Sotheby tries to raise her voice and it cracks. "W-who's there? M-m-mister K-karson?"

She hopes beyond hope nothing has happened, but the room is rather thoroughly sound-baffled for some reason, so there's only a distant din of ripping and tearing, like there's not hundreds of people in her house but a great infestation of rats eating the magic peach up around her, scratching and scratching and chewing away at the flesh of her golden fruit of a home.

There is a certain surreal and maddening quality to it, detached from cause and reality.

Thankfully, as soon as Regulus identifies herself to the shaking Sotheby, the young arcanist breaks down blubbering when it's her invisible party-bestie. "Regulus? Regulus! It's you!" She calls while gripping, her grip threatening but not loosening their dangerous cargo. The stuffie, having only one entrusted to it, is less of a liability, but not none. All and bag must go, as she won't be separated from it.
Regulus Regulus is mean enough to kick someone when they are down if they've especially bothered her but, like, she'd rather just hurry. There's visions of old friends losing their minds flashing through her mind, melting into dark goo, and she's trying not to think about these things because the more she thinks about it the faster and harder her breathing is going to get when she's already moving faster and longer than she's really accustomed to though working with Vertin's giving her more and more workouts, it feels like. Lots more running, lots more dodging, lots more paying attention to her surroundings. She doesn't care for it, but what's she going to do? Let Vertin down? The one person who believed in her when she had on one? What's she going to do? Let Sotheby be--she doesn't even want to think about it. She wants to believe the worst that she imagines is just a cynical fantasy and that the best she imagines will just not come to be.

Vertin said she'd handle Karson so she doesn't wait to fill him in, pushing forward because the one thing she doesn't want right now is for her to be alone even if Karson's doing the important work of keeping hersafe. She sneaks into the room and then--

--she sees Sotheby's face.

Oh.

Regulus always knew Sotheby was a strong badass who could do anything she could put her mind to even at her young age and that she was cool and could endure so much. But seeing that face makes her feeling a bit misty eyed. Sotheby might hear a sympathetic sniffle and a little wet splotch hit the ground and some furious rubbing of the face before Regulus gets to announce herself.

"It's me and Mr. APPLe, Sotheby." Regulus says, for the first time in a long while struggling to find her voice as she banishes her invisibility for the moment, revealing herself. "You don't think we forgot about you, right?" Regulus grins like an invincible pirate queen were it not for little hastily dried tears visible on her cheeks which surely are just scars from an incredible adventure. "Mr. Karson's safe, I passed by him on the way here. Team Timekeeper's here too--Sonetto and Vertin and Lilian and everyone's here to help."

She spots Typhon in Sotheby's other arm and takes another breath. Okay. Calm yourself Regulus. Time to be a brave little lion so Sotheby can borrow some of that overblown courage.

"We're going to sneak past all the trouble, alright?" Regulus tells Sotheby. "We're gonna make our way back to Vertin and the others--Vertin's probably caught up to Mr. KArson by now. And then we're going to get out of here with the scoundrels none the wiser." Regulus dips her sunglasses to wink at Sotheby. Then hesitates.

"Um, I know it's scary and I'm not exactly a bodyguard, but can you be as brave as Typhon for a little bit and stay close to me? I'll make us vanish, but I'll be right beside you. It'll be okay."

APPLe floats over to Sotheby and drops down on top of her hat like he's reenacting William Tell. "I'll be here too, Miss Sotheby."
Timekeeper     At some point, over the minutes that stretched into missions through the manor, Vertin's demeanor took an intangible turn. Hand on Karson's wrist, her hissed "Mr. Karson! We have to evacuate to Sabre Squadron!" is laced with the grim weight of a captain aboard a sinking ship. The hemming and hawing of relocation and fortification has dropped away entirely, rhetorical jettison in a lost cause.

    Regulus can be trusted to get Sotheby on board with the rapport she has, but once in the stairwell, Vertin spares some words for her too. Urgent even though she's trying to be reassuring, Vertin takes her hand and squeezes it, meeting eyes from under-brim to under-brim with profound seriousness.

    "Sotheby. Today is going to be a great large adventure, and there will be lots of alarming twists and turns and places you've never ever seen before. But like with any adventure, it'll end with you safe and sound in bed, I promise. You've got Typhon with you, don't you? Good."

    Down the stairs, through the cellar, out the door. Vertin's pace picks up faster as she goes, hurrying ahead of even Sonetto, who worriedly goes into a trot to keep up, looking anxiously back over her shoulder at the others. Vertin's pace doesn't even slow when throwing open the doors outside, briskly jogging until she's within earshot of Moissan and the others while Sonetto stumbles in confusion at their sudden haste.

    "Timekeeper? Timekeeper! What is it?!"

    Vertin comes to a stop all at once, bringing their wrist up to look. The ever-dreary sky darkens its grey mockery of sunset, the pregnant clouds looming over the petty battlefield of what was once a young girl's house. A drop falls, heavy, splashing in the trampled grass beside Vertin's shoe. With a taut voice, meaning to shout for everyone to hear but not managing a decibel above withered normal,

    "It's the Storm. It's here."

    The glass tubes on her wrist flicker to life, and tick down.

    2 3 : 5 9
Riku Asakura Geed holds the line and the distraction for as long as necessary.  Once Sonetto gets the barrier up to keep out the rioters, does Geed back off and watch the barrier for a moment to both make sure it will hold, and that the rioters are alright.  He enters Sotheby's room right behind Sonetto.

Riku is there once more, having released the transformation once things were settled, and his heart sinks upon seeing Sotheby's state.  It's very sad to see her so upset, but both Regulus and Vertin seem to have things under control.  Riku smiles at Vertin, who speaks of adventures.  He sure hopes that today will end with her in her bed.

They leave through the stairs and out of the cellar.  Riku keeps pace with Vertin as Sonetto asks her an important question.  

'It's the Storm. It's here.'

Riku looks shocked by this.  "Oh no...not the storm!" he says and then... "Does that mean what's happening with the people was the Storm's doing?" he asks, not sure.  
Lilian Rook     Heading through the crowd was a mistake.

    Lilian's animosity towards the rioters wasn't a subtle kind of secret from the start. She didn't wear it on the sleeve, but peopl less attention than Vertin and less familiar than Tamamo could still notice. The intensity of it had gone up and down in different company, but the feeling hadn't left at any point. Her insistence on pushing through them, callous to their existence, was party to reaffirm herself against them; to push them aside as a stone parts a river and be so far above the seething, greedy blood in the veins of Chicago that she could never feel dirtied by it again. Instead, heedless to the threat that anyone in their right mind would anticipate that she presents, they swarm over her like locusts.

    The only thing that could upset her any more than trying to steal her first ever gift, made by her wife herself, would be trying to steal her sword; and then only just barely, and more out of panic than personal grief. Even the wedding ring would be a close second. When the first avaricious hand lunges for her head, Lilian sways back in order to dodge it, and then realizing a split second later that it wants her gold and not her neck, throws a low-body jab with her right hand before she even thinks about it, striking a rioter squarely in the ribs with more force than she intended.

    The human wave that follows makes the breath freeze so thoroughly in her throat that it feels a little bit like drowning. Striking someone with her elbow from behind, front kicking another in the knee ahead of her, thrashing left and connecting with someone's jaw with the back of her fist, then catching someone else by the wrist with her right hand and hurling them over her shoulder, Lilian shouts "Get off! Get out of my sight you fucking animals" to prove to her hindbraind that she isn't.

    She twists around one rioter, getting him in an armbar to use as a human shield from one side, then snaps off a bright flare of directionless (and therefore minimally harmful) magical flame in the direction she intends to breach through. When the crowd barely even recoils, the severity of her situation starts to sink in, and--

    Lilian unsheaths her sword the moment a cane is swung at her head. She doesn't even feel the wood parting under its edge, but her heart rate jumps like it's a deadly threat. She twists the flat of the blade forward with her wrist just before swinging, then bludgeons the rioter in the way, kicks her captive off her, and finally having a split second to breathe, vanishes from out of the crowd again.

                -----[stop]-----
    Lilian spends a little while to herself, catching her breath under the boughs of a neatly kept tree on the manor grounds, as if she could somehow be seen otherwise. Touching the lily over and over again to reassure herself that it's still there, the intervals grow longer as her breathing starts to slow down. She feels her heartbeat through her collarbone with one hand, and decides to resume once it drops back below ninety.
                -----[start]-----

    Lilian avoids the crowd from thereon. If they charge at her from a distance, she relocates like a hallucination. The rapid feathering is worth the peace of mind. She's too far from anyone else for them to notice her skipping out on the 'incantations'.
Lilian Rook     --children of flesh, hear the word of the divine and bear witness to your unworthiness in the face of unassailable truth of the time before time--

    The words-- the inchoate roil of thought-- sends a piercing chill past her spine and straight to her heart. Reeling from the sense of dark, sucking vastness of the 'voice', rendered suddenly aware of what feels like every throbbing vein and twitching muscle throughout the entirety of her crude and mortal body, Lilian's pulse elevates again for entirely the wrong reasons.

    'I obey your rules and imitate your habits and act like I'm an ordinary flesh husk just like the rest of you, all so you can treat me like this? Why am I, a divine being, rolling around in the mud like you pigs? I've gone completely mad.'

    Lilian breathes deep, hones her senses to pinpoint the whispering in the wind, and appears right before the one person in the crowd she realizes now that she least wanted to beat black and blue. Even if the Manus mask is an overt and shameless symbol of evil, it's of such a different kind than Lilian has fixated on all day that she only just gathers her resolve before--

    "What the fuck?!" escapes her, followed by a shrill and strangled "Why?!"

    More than the abrupt gruesome death that takes place right before her eyes, or the alarming grotesquerie setting its murderous sights on her right that very second, what shocks and appalls Lilian the most is the fact that it'd happened the instant she had approached. As if they'd set a contingency for her; as if it were somehow her fault. It's nothing but pure battle flex, drilled into her bones and ignited by the spike of adrenaline, that propels her into action before the crowd between them is turned into gory mist.

    §Too cramped for full swings. Too many civs for Cleasa. Don't see vitals; no telling how tough it is. Strawberry Princess maneuver.§

    From afar, the Foundation guards on the ground hear something bassier than a gunshot and see an inky blot of hideous teeth distantly launched into the air. Fifty feet above the crowd, the Manus beast is caught in a gleaming, chaotic crisscross, and briefly shivers from the aggregate near-simultaneous impact as if caught in piano wire. Quick as blinking, it comes apart into a score oozing pieces, and showers back down onto the grounds. The last droplets have only just struck the Earth when Lilian reappears before the Foundation team. Her eyes say shellshock and the rest of her says business as usual, down to the casual flick of blackened blood from her naked blade, like a habit stronger than conscious thought.

    "Manus Vindictae presence confirmed." Lilian says, matter-of-factly, in lieu of anything that could possibly be more helpful. "One. Masked." she adds, seconds later, rattled by her lack of conclusion. "All but ignored by the crowd. No evident signs of manipulation, but clearly not present by accident either. Appeared immune to the collective hysteria affecting every other human on the premises." Lilian swallows, disliking the implication after she says it. "Failsafe trigger the moment I approached. Abrupt termination of enemy asset followed by conversion into a live threat. Neutralized with prejudice. No casualties." She reports it like it'll make it any better.
Lilian Rook     "I've . . . confirmed, some sort of . . . remote communication method with . . ." Who? Who could she possibly begin to suggest? "An entity. No ostensible relevance to mission object." she says, strained. "Best estimation is a Manus Vindictae surveillant; a disposable asset meant to convey the situation back to their headqurters. It's likely that the asset was already under the effects of a scrying skill and the information is already sent." She takes a deep, bracing breath, and finally slaps her sword back into her scabbard. "I don't think Manus Vindictae actually did this. Not directly. I think they intended to confirm what's going on before taking advantage of it somehow."

    Even after it all, the sound of 'Her' still rattles around inside her head like a fresh and vivid nightmare. The closest thing she could try comparing it to isn't something she wants to talk about. Not in front of the Foundation.

    "I don't think it's terrorism this time."