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WHO: Everyone!
WHERE: An hour outside De Chima
WHEN: January 10-12
WHAT: imPorts are treated to a Swear-In that’s nothing but a weekend of relaxation at a brand new resort and spa!
WARNINGS: Possible mild nudity

It’s been a long few months, hasn’t it imPorts? Between the invading monsters (yikes!), evading the apocalypse (double yikes!) and then some fear toxin on behalf of your good pal Joker (triple yikes!), imPorts are overdue for a vacation. And wouldn’t you know it? One is coming right up.

Oh, yeah. It’s a Hot Springs Episode.

Welcome to Elysium Resort and Spa! When you come in, you’ll get a brochure with all of their offerings. They’re a little confused, perhaps, espousing relaxation ideals of every culture, clearly having just thrown all of their relaxation spaghetti at the wall to see if it sticks, but they’ve got the spirit! The smell of eucalyptus fills the air as you toe off your shoes and change into the slippers and robes that they have available for you as they usher you into what must be, for some, absolute paradise.

You can find rooms for all persuasions here, all purporting various health benefits. They have your typical fare - salt rooms, saunas, steam rooms, buckets of water with ladles resting in them to pour over the heaters to allow them to sizzle - but be warned! Some of these rooms climb up to ridiculous temperatures, leaving the bottoms of your feet red and toasty as you jump in (they suggest sandals, but who reads instructions anyway?), and other rooms are filled with ice as you’re plunged into what may as well be a walk-in freezer. Sometimes the doors are a little fiddly, though. Don’t worry - you won’t get trapped in here long enough for any real harm to come to you. But you might get a little uncomfortable as you rattle at the door, one of the employees eventually hurrying to let you out and offering their sincerest apologies, and won’t you have a gift certificate?

If those rooms aren’t enough for you, you can check out the baths. Salt baths, chilled baths, and hot tubs galore are here for imPorts, but that’s not all. Ever wanted to bathe in tea? In wine? Would you like to sink into a bath filled entirely with clay? How about getting all your dead skin chomped off by fish? It’s all here for you! Just try not to drink the bathwater - or, heavens, eat the fish. Those aren’t for you!

As imPorts stroll outside, they’ll see a beautiful vista overlooking the mountains, attached to a spacious hot springs (it’s natural, they claim, but who’s checking?) where imPorts can simply relax and enjoy the scenery. After that, why not pop inside to where some of the technicians will absolutely insist that you get a massage. Or a mani-pedi - yes, even you, big guy. Or, really, anything that your heart desires.

Once you’ve been poked and prodded and primped to your heart’s content (or discontent, as it may be), the spa open until the wee hours of the morning, it’s time to go and dine on some of the local cuisine, prepared fresh by the resort’s resident chef with a distinct eye to fresh, clean flavors and a truly ridiculous amount of salad. They want to make sure that you’re healthy inside and out, after all!

Before arriving at the spa, everyone was able to choose who they wanted to room with. But it seems that their systems got a bit scrambled during their grand opening, so you may find yourself bunking with a stranger instead. They’re deeply apologetic, of course, but it really would be easier for them if you’d just be nice for an evening and give it a shot. It’s only one evening, right? It’s not like you’ll be roomed with a serial killer. Probably. Given the imPort population there’s, what, a five percent chance?

The hotel rooms themselves are beautiful and spacious, each with a window looking out over the lovely view of the scenery below. It’s the perfect way to end your night… until 3 AM when an alarm begins to blare and all of the guests are ushered outside in the chilly winter air while firefighters come to check the place out. It’s a false alarm (some brat must have pulled it, the manager says apologetically, ready with more gift certificates), but hey, maybe this is a good chance to get to know your neighbors!

The next day, guests are free to take advantage of the resort’s facilities once more, or they can go hiking in the mountainous trails available to them, complete with regular rest stops with firepits, with the staff more than happy to pack lunchboxes and fixings for s’mores.

After they come back and have a thankfully uneventful night’s rest, buses will be ready to take them back to civilization, along with goodie bags filled with luxury goods and an earnest invitation to come back anytime! But maybe next time, wait a couple of months so they can iron out the kinks in their system.

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[fortuntaly, these are the kinds of tactics that archie and sharpedo are used to. fighting dragon types in a water arena, it happens. sharpedo goes down with shiro, naturally. it can't fly, even if it can fling itself through the air with wild abandon.]

Crunch! But don't kill him! [he calls out right before they slam into the water. sharpedo follows the command; it opens its jaws wide and... is clearly holding back when it chomps down on shiro's scales. as archie said, he doesn't want to kill the poor guy! a couple puncture wounds, though? that's fine. he can heal those.]

"You are a true paragon of virtue," she replies glibly, trying to willfully get past her embarrassment. It's a process, and one that's failing her. With her skin crawling, she pushes away from the table and rises out of her chair.

"Eugh. I have to get out of the public eye. I'm going to go find my room." She glances sidelong his way. "You're going to navigate all this well enough on your own, I assume?"

"Such an optimist."

Not that that wasn't a realistic observation.

"But no. It's not just me. There are a couple others I know from the ship that are on my side. And I know that there are more Reptilians on Earth that are opposed to the whole invasion thing, but it's difficult finding them without risking exposure to myself or them. I have an FBI agent helping me out. And there was a reporter..." his eyes glaze over with a look of sadness. "But he died. There was someone sent to kill me, and he died saving me."

Granted, they'd had orders to kill him, too, so it wasn't like he'd have been safe if he hadn't tried to save Jonathan, but he could have ran while Jonathan was being killed and he chose take a blast for him.

Good, then we shouldn't have a problem.

Name's Midnighter, by the way. Feel free to call me M.

[For the first time since their conversation began, M's demeanor crumbles somewhat. Not to the casual observer, of course, but to someone that knows him like Magnus does, he's sure it's obvious.]

Basically that he'll think about it.

Dead yet?

[He manages to keep the comment to himself for almost 5 seconds after Jason's feet are fully submerged into the pool.]

Everything about civilian life is cracked to me. If you can't stop and enjoy it every now and then, what's the point?

Guess not.

Threshold.

[The question gets a shrug.] Not as such.

[Actual help, unrelated to his interests, would have a price. But on those occasions where Swear-ins have been attacked, he considers his actions to be retaliation. And any harm he inflicts for that purpose? That’s free of charge.]

I meant they’re not all this… uneventful.

[See: boring.]

Hm... [Fuu considers that question seriously. She's always found such things to be interesting, but hasn't often been called on to explain why.] Well... I think rocks are often pretty, as silly as that sounds. And they're all so ancient. I like holding that kind of history in my hand.

As for plants, it's amazing all the different forms they take to survive. Even when it's winter like this, the evergreen ones are still going on as though it's no problem at all.

Pikachu, never one to be made out to be a liar, hits the water, sinks a bit and releases a sudden, surprised Thunderbolt. Archie is shocked. Various people in the water are shocked. And worst of all, Pikachu shocks himself, which is such a hard reset of his system that when he emerges from the water, gasping and still sparking a little bit...

...It's not Pikachu.

It is a fully clothed, dripping wet, glasses askew Harry Goodman looking deeply put out by this.

"What the hell?!"

"I am, yeah." What is their relationship, even? Aside from mutually snarky, which is probably why Pikachu enjoys himself so much in her company.

He takes a sip of his overly caffeinated coffee and moves his tail in what is probably a salute-type gesture. "Oh yeah. Once I finish this, I'm gonna be wired for about three days straight. I'm good."

As Archie said, Sharpedo does shift to tank most of the damage. Super effective, but it doesn't faint the shark Pokémon. It's sturdy. All Sharpedo suffers is some HP loss and a little bit of confusion as it rolls around in the water to shake the attack off. Archie himself can't help yelping in pain from the Thunderbolt. So that's what that feels like.

"Yo, Electric Boogaloo?" he calls out, moments before Harry emerges. "Oh. There you aaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWHATTHEFUCK"

[The Joker's wrong there: this Batman cares too much. He cares about the people that scum like this clown terrorize and take for granted, even if they might be the very same people that fear him currently, or would have terrorized him if he were still human. It's the part of him that's remained stubbornly human even as he's embraced the monster within.

As he once told the robot he believed to be his friend Tina: the skin is cold, but the heart's still warm.

He could let the hunger take hold of him, feast indiscriminately. It's what most people expect him to do. But then he'd have no right to the current life that he's carved out for himself in the dark greys of morality. He could never look at Hernan again; not that Hernan was here. He couldn't look at Apollo, or Abigail, or Ben, or Jane.

No, he might have fallen, but he hasn't sunk that low. And he never would.]

If your dying wish is to believe that I don't care then fine. I don't.

[That was supposed to be the final word on the matter. He'd played with his food long enough, and both man and monster were both getting restless. This sack of trash had been breathing for far too long. But then the way The Joker manages to hiss out his last question, like it was the most important thing in the world, he couldn't help but indulge one final request.]

I had one hell of a bad day. Now say goodnight, Gracie.

[The time for questions is over. The time for talking is over. He bares his fangs a final time and this time digs them promptly into his prey's jugular, expertly puncturing them for maximum drainage, but minimal spillage.

The time for this clown to be breathing is over.]

[Roland turns to look at Guzma.]

I suppose that's true, when you say it so cynically.

But without community, how would things get done?

Threshold. I like it. Flashy without being excessive. Tells them nothing.

[Guzma chuckles a little darkly at that. What a question to ask a guy like Guzma...]

Ain't that ever the question, huh?

But what about those who can't do what you're preachin'—or do they not matter?

I'm not "preaching" anything. Unless you consider talking to teenagers about the importance of voting and offering them a chance to register at the end a sermon.

But to answer your question--everyone matters. It's not my place ultimately get them to a thing. People will listen, or they won't. I hope that they do, but they're free to do whatever they want.

[You're talking to the guy that pushed through universal healthcare in his world. He's not exactly about leaving people behind.]

Am I preaching to you right now?

"Do you know when's the last time theology understood anything about me?" Don't get him started on religion. He's nothing like the stories say they are.

"Demons haven't got souls. Angels do."

We should follow... the cleaning staff?

[ Okay, now Fuu's lost him. He rubs at the back of his neck, then glances back at her. ]

Why don't we just ask them what happened? We're public figures. I'm pretty sure if they're not the ones involved with any, um, nefarious schemes, then they'll probably tell us.

I didn't pick it. But thanks.

[hitting on virgins should be a lot more boring than it is. hitting on this virgin, specifically.

kavinsky breathes in the dim warmth off kaz's skin. the reality is, he has no interest in rekindling the traumatic telepathic flashbacks that he'd accidentally incurred the other month. that rot, that filth, would have bothered him more before dr. chilton's reconditioning treatment, but even to his numbed-out, broken soul, it's still distinctly

...unpleasant.

so he hovers.] Question, [he says.] Independent and pragmatic businessman that you are, [who even talks like this.] Master of your blade and your little empire or whatever the fuck you're doing. Doesn't it bother you, your PTSD shit still controls your life? There's weapons you can't ever use because of it. Sex, touch. That's what they are, you know. Weapons.

Yet you kept it, so clearly you don't hate it.

It's my name. You don't just change your name.

He snorts. "Oh yeah, you're a special snowflake, you are." He slides his phone back into his pocket and gives a nonchalant shrug at the soul question, which brings him back to his earlier point.

"Fallen angel. Don't forget that part. If you don't want people to think you're a demon, you might want to stop using demonic aliases. Word on the street 'as it, you've called yourself Samael, Abaddon, and Belial, just to name a few."

[Archie calling orders is throwing him off. He jerks back just enough the teeth puncture through his scales in a shallower bite than Sharkpedo had been going for. He is at a sore disadvantage with his three limbs.

Darin has said he would work on a prosthetic but he can’t get one right now.

Wait.

He does something undraconic and brings his back feet up to hammer them into his opponent to drive them back. He holds back too, going for the force to knock them back instead of doing damage.

As the glimmer of an idea forms in his mind. If he can get free of the shark he bursts out of the water in a desperate surge for the sky. If he doesn’t he slashed at him with smooth trained strike of a year in the Galra area. His eyes closed as he casts his awareness out. To the bayard tucked away in his clothes on the cliff.]

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