2018.01.22: The Road Less Travelled Pt.1

The Road Less Travelled, Part 1
The duo enjoy a relaxing afternoon drive.
Players	Evaline Oktav
Location	The streets of Prospect
Spheres	Mage

Transcript

A chunk of sleek, polished obsidian screams down a series of side roads, barely able to contain the breadth of this pavement kissing wedge of highly explosive rocket fuel. In the drivers seat, barely paying attention to the road in front of her, is Detrevni. Incognito from her day form by way of costume. A smooth, weather resistant cowl covers her head, sculpting her contours. Her mouth is uncovered. Not being able to speak makes the whole thing pointless, after all.

Attached to the dashboard, a wide curved screen flitters with data. Road maps, dotted with red flashing markers. "These. All of them," she says to her passenger, pointing to one of the markers. "We need to check every one of my beacons, otherwise the network won't be able to extrapolate any sort of data. What makes it more frustrating is that as fast as I put these beacons up, something seems to be tearing them down." Her hand rests lazily on the wheel, which seems to be turning itself. The gear shift then clunks on its own, now peeling out into the empty cruising lane of a suburban highway. They're returning from some forest escapade toward the city.

Oktav stays slumped in his seat, his weatherbeaten leather coat smelling faintly of tobacco and months-old spilled whiskey. He stares at the last of the trees flashing by as they thrust themselves into previously peaceful suburbia. A child playing basketball alone in her driveway gazes in awe for the brief second she can before the Countach is far beyond sight. "Are these beacons physical or meta? If we're dealing with something that can spot your magic, that's different from some kids throwing stones."

Finally, Oktav turns to look at the map properly. Even with his sunglasses, the wince is obvious. "And this -needs- to be done for your shit to work? This much setup, this much time-wasting? Christ alive, you need to find a way to streamline this or someone's going to eat you alive. Can't you at least check them remotely, with one of those new drones?"

Houses fly past in a haze. The tinted windows of the black stained beast allow privacy, but were installed merely to let the occupants see the contents of the many hundreds of displays inside the cockpit without sun glare. A cozy bubble of computer screens and low light, while on the outside the world rushes past at a stomach churning pace. An array of onboard sensors pick up data from the nearest beacon. It taps into ancient camera networks, easily accessable to whoever wanted to look. The car slows down a few thousand feet early as an elderly woman walks her tiny, arthritis ridden dachshund across the street. Moments later, the Countach rushes past, making the dog bark in delayed shock.

"The beacons are physical, but their contents are of a different nature. All I know is that, at the moment, I can only see and record what I can detect with rather rudimentary sensors. I can do incredibly impossible things once that data is in my grasp. Hopefully, as I learn more, I can bypass these sorts of things. Wishful thinking." Detrevni says, her eyes scanning the map. A beacon blips out, and an exclamation mark appears over it. She narrows her eyes, and begins typing rapidly on a keyboard at her lap. Various thick bundles of wire, sheathed in a twisting metal coil connect everything onboard together in a web of cabling that always seems to know where to lay to not get in the way. The on board co ordinates of their destination change to this disappeared beacon. "Perhaps we can catch one of these perpetrators in the act. I place many beacons in dysfunctional areas of the city. I imagine many of them are opportunists, noticing valuable metals and scrap."

The tinted windows beyond his tinted glasses finally begin to tire Oktav's eyes, and he snaps his sunglasses shut. He leans back in his seat, as much to distract himself from the dizzying speed as to relax. "Right. Well, if I'm going to teach you, then it's my job to make your life a little easier. If there are any beacons that are more important than the others, that are special somehow, I should be able to construct an illusion around them. Maybe make the area unappealing to be in, that sort of thing. I'd do it for all of them, but..."

A couple of seconds tick by. "Can't be fucked, really."

Oktav reaches in his coat for a cigarette, nestling it between his lips. "Right. Any of these beacons look particularly suspect? I'm not interested in going around having some dipshit undo my hard work. Let's knock his head around a bit until he tells us what's what."

Detrevni listens to Oktav. She listens very well. Microphones in her suit pick up every word. It is all streamed, first, to the onboard data center of the Countach. From there it's sent via beacons, completely securely, untapped by any third party mediator, to home base. The deep pits of her private enclave, where a grand chess game once played out between the very two occupants of this screaming steel steed.

"I can compile you a list fairly easily. A main artery must exist to all main points of the city, so that I can always rely on it in the field." A string of blips on the digital map turn green, pointing out their interconnected nature. "Secondary and tertiary beacons are set up in danger areas, so that coverage isn't lost." These webs also light up amber. Many of them have been removed, but then again, many more are being placed all the time. "There are dark zones, of course. But it's just a test at this point. It's working, for the most part." If she weren't cowled, Oktav would see how tired she looks.

But there's no time for tiredness. The Countach takes the next corner sideways, burning fat black tyre marks into the worn, cracked pavement of Prospect. The acceleration out of the corner is immense, but the ride compensates in real time. The occupants don't feel anything but the slightest lurch in the change of speed. As Oktav removes a cigarette, a warning comes up on the screen in front of him politely asking him not to smoke. There is a gas tank a few inches behind his head, after all. Detrevni has no time to protest though, as there's a worryingly close PLINK, and the passenger side window suddenly has a spiderweb pattern of cracks. "Someone's shooting at us," Detrevni says.

There isn't a rear view mirror anywhere in the car, so the internal screens change to a feed of the rear of the car. A busted sedan, obviously hearing the car coming, has roared out from an alleyway and is hauling ass after them. It's full of people, all holding guns.

"What the fuck?" Of all the things Oktav has seen in urban environments, a sudden gunfight actually isn't one of them. As another bullet shatters the glass just above him, Oktav thanks his lucky stars that he slumped back in his seat. The reassuring weight at his thigh is brought to bear, a shining, beautiful Colt Anaconda that has no place

being held by such a haggard man. Long years of experience coalesce in the span of a breath as Oktav sights in on the car. The incredible amount of drag from the Countach's speed, the relative slow of the sedan, the weight of the bullet - all of these factors are brought in and calculated within Oktav's mind, while his spirit hones in on the number of aggressive presences inside.

Three shots. That's what Oktav can manage under these conditions. And the marksman performs, just as he did among the desert sands. The sedan reels as two bullets smash through their front window, one of the bullets shaving half a neck off the man in the passenger seat, while the other drives deep into the shoulder of the man just behind him. The final bullet hits the headlight harmlessly, leaving only the faint sound of crashing glass.

"There's three left. One's hurt, two alive. You know these guys?" Oktav, grateful for the automatic compensation of the car, slots a single round into his Colt.

Detrevni instantly finds herself longing for that womb of cosy, secure safety. Once the window gives way to gunfire, that peace is destroyed. She can barely hear Oktav over the rushing of wind and the screaming of the Countach's ridiculous engine. 12 cylinders explode tens of thousands of times a second, unleashing enough energy to launch a paddock of ox into the stratosphere and still have some left over to kick them back again.

Some sacrifices must be made though, and Detrevni manually shifts down to a more sensible speed. She tries to think while Oktav fires off an incredibly loud revolver a few feet from her head. "Good. I have no idea who these people are. So shoot the other ones. I'll drive fast enough to keep them guessing but still keep them in range." When her hands grip the steering wheel, a message greets her on the dashboard. "Welcome, Detrevni." it fades away to show a digital readout: speedometers, rev counter, turbo gauges, etc.

The thugs in hot pursuit don't stand idly by, though. The man in the passenger seat: a burly, thick muscled man bleeds freely from his neck. He clutches at it in shock, his breathing choked as he gargled on the very blood meant to keep his body alive. The man behind him clutches his knee, screaming and cursing at the other two. The driver tries to keep the wheel level as the passenger behind him levels an assault rifle out of the passenger window. He cracks off a few shots toward the Countach.

The assault rifle changes the stakes. A pistol or two, Oktav feels reasonably confident dealing with that through mundane means. But the moment military hardware hits the stage, Oktav escalates right along with it. The Magi stays back in his seat, the spray of bullets flashing through the air above him. A single one catches Detrevni right in the side, thunking into her kevlar plating. But Oktav's mind is already gone, insinuating itself into a not-so-distant mind...

Music's blasting, man! Fuck yeah! Barry's going at them with his gun baby, and we are on a one way ticket to hell! Fuck! FUCK yes! Dingo ain't gonna make it, clear as day there, dickhead's already bleeding all over the seat and that's going to be a big-dicked cost to clean up, fucker that he is, absolute fucking prick! God damn it! Who even drives a car like that, and how the hell's it so damn fast! Who shot that gun! Fuck!

Oktav rests in the man's mind, feeling that adrenaline, the anger, the fear, the sadness stuffed deep deep down. Slowly, Oktav's mind grows closer, closer, closer, until the Magi is rioting himself. Yeah, let's get this fucker! Let's get them, right now, right now!

Aaaaagh, god damn it! They're trying to get down the alley?! Fucking idiots, that's a one way street you fucking morons, you rejects, you worthless pieces of-

Oktav opens his eyes as the Countach keeps going, weaving through traffic - but certainly not into any alleys.

The sound of screeching metal, followed by an enormous crash. "Yeah, stop the fucking car, Detrevni! We got their asses!" Oktav's face is soaked with sweat, his eyes bulging out with rage and exhilaration. "We fucking got 'em!"

Detrevni grunts as she's hit in the ribs by a 200mph speed pitch from the arm of Zeus himself. It'd shatter the core of any mundane baseball bat, just like her third rib. She cries out in pain, and her hands slip on the wheel. The wheels turn, but this is detected. There must be precautions. The ride immediately adjusts, and the computer takes back over. The engine roars with her, powering up to their former cruising speed. Air rushing inside the cabin make it nearly impossible to hear anything, but Oktav's hooting makes it to her ears.

Milky smoke rises in fat plumes from the crumpled car. front tyres ran up the steps of a brownstone on the corner, throwing car onto its side wheels, as it continues on a suicidal course right into a brick wall. The car stops suddenly, the front crumpling in. The driver carries on, his head planting the steering wheel, and painting the dash in his brains. A few moments later, with nothing but screechy thrash metal blaring from tinny, destroyed stereo speakers, a lone man clambers from the back seat. He's bleeding heavily, and slumps down by the wreckage, assault rifle in his lap. He speaks into a radio in ragged whispers. And then he dies.

Detrevni taps a nearby street on the map. She doesn't care where it is. The car makes a sharp adjustment, then cruises smartly down a side street. The rumbling engine slows to an idle as the behemoth slides into two parking bays. Overhead the neon sign of a bar buzzes. It's all that's left to listen to after the gunshots, the screaming engines and the rushing of wind stops. The buzzing and the ringing in her ears and the pain in her side. She turns off the ignition, then looks at Oktav. "Yeah, yeah it's over, no need to get energetic now," she says, her voice rasping. The shot seems to have winded her as well. The door opens for her automatically as she moves to slide from the seat, still clutching her wound.

The empathic link doesn't break down so easily as the magic slowly loses its grip over Oktav. The Magi throws the door open, leaps out, dances in place, performs a short air- boxing routine, then throws his head back and howls at the sky. "HeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL YEAH!" He laughs loudly, then not so loudly, then coughs. Takes a deep breath, gets himself sensible, serene.

After the sound of gunfire and a sudden crash, the city's gone silent out of a shared sense of self-preservation. There's not a single person around who wants even the slightest piece of this action, at least in this breath or two. It's just the amount of time Oktav needed, as he turns to face Detrevni, who is considerably fucked up. "What, did they actually hit you? That's impressive work. Do you know how unlikely that is, at that range and that speed? I mean, fuck -me-."

The Countach comes back to life as they step out. It reverses out of the parking spot, avoiding every obstacle with calculated forethought and surgical precision. It weaves between an old beater and a blacked out van then out onto the street, before accelerating off and out of sight. "Yes. I know the exact odds." Detrevni says, breathing deeply between words. She tries to figure out how broken her rib is, and how much effort it would take to heal. The techno mace, her magic staff in this realm, is kept safely strapped to her back, under a black cloth. She would need to use it to access her life magic. "We need to make a pit stop. This place is very close to where my beacon went down. I just need to take a moment to heal in whatever bathroom they might have," she says behind her, already making her way to the entrance. She doesn't seem to comment on Oktav's mood swings. She may have seen similar effects before, having spent time with Oktav on various sorties and witnessing his mind magic firsthand. She chooses not to question his methods, or the aftereffects thereof, while in the middle of a mission. There's always the long, long debriefings afterwards to painstakingly revise every detail of mission data.

She nods to the door. "Can you see if there are people inside? I don't want to get my mace out..." she says back to him.

"Hmm, yeah. We wouldn't want to be conspicious, would we." Oktav tucks his Anaconda back in its sheath, shrugging his coat over it with practised ease. "Just try not to look too..." Oktav takes another look at Detrevni, wincing slightly. "Look, just try and look unhinged and too poor to rob. You should be pissed off enough to cover the former, and

if the latter don't work, just hit 'em in the face. I'll be back in a sec."

And so Oktav opens the door, stepping right into a bar full of...