closed.

[jalan]

WHO: Bruce Wayne, Daenerys Targaryen, Gwen Wynne-York, Tony Stark, Rincewind (others possibly TBA)
WHERE: Virginian woodlands, and in dreams.
WHEN: At some point during the Cold War Confessional plot.
WHAT: Wolves at the gates, accidental courtesy of Frederick Chilton.
WARNINGS: Violence, probably.

Comments

knock knock. rincewind, gwen.

[jalan]

[ The loudest thing by far in the forest is a human being. That said, the soldiers flanking Rincewind seem to find paths that minimise this as much as possible, paths that are hidden but well-trodden. The spring growth has reduced visibility drastically, with greenery pressing in on all sides, slowing down the ground team as much as it keeps them out of sight. Wildflowers twist up through the understory. Birds flutter overhead in trees. Bumblebees bumble. Guns are carried low.

The dispensary up ahead looks abandoned. Worse than abandoned -- condemned, rooftop half collapsed, windows either empty of glasspanes or still holding on to dusty shards. The woodland creeps right up to its borders and climbs in through gaps in the wall, broken windows, buckled doors with fingers of ferns, saplings, fungi. It isn't quite a castle fit for a queen.

Or at least, that is at it appears.

It's tempting to turn back. Nothing here, keep moving. But there is something here. ]

[wizzardly]

[a person might assume, at a look, that the skinny redhead standing at the forefront of this squadron is its leader. He's wearing the right uniform, albeit poorly, and clearly stands separate from the group. But no leader would possess Rincewind's hunched, beaten dog posture, or get such anxiety from the expectant faces aligned behind him.]

I don't mean to hold things up, [he says carefully, glancing at the break through the trees up ahead,] but, ah, is there word on whether J- Comrade Mormont will still be joining us?

[they'd said he would be, when they shook Rincewind awake in his bunk and hustled him into a transport. Part of another group, he was told; the second wave. Just focus on your mission, don't worry about him. (The "worry about yourself" implied, of course.) There's been no further word since then.

There isn't now either. Rincewind swallows after the silence grows to an uncomfortable stretch and nods to himself. He doesn't ask again, but pretends the absence of an answer didn't spike the panic he's been nursing since they first hiked into these woods.]

...Right. I'll just get to it then.

[Rincewind eyes the brambles creeping up on the seeming debris of the dispensary. It's excellent work, whoever wove this vision together; in another circumstance, he could appreciate the illusion. Even with a wizard's eyes he can't see it for its truth, but the wall of octarine energy glows as bright as anything, the thrumming energy bigger than any 'X' which could mark the spot. Where the magic field curves around a large and ancient oak, Rincewind spies the symbol of a padlock, colorful and insubstantial.]

I've got something, [he says drearily. At his feet, the Luggage shifts its weight as Rincewind extends his hand to the tree and the symbol. He can feel the magic flicker around his fingertips like something living and wriggling, and the wizard grimaces, recognizing at the same time the sound of guns flicking off their safety.

What he does next makes no sound at all, but in Rincewind's head he swears he can hear the turn of a key and the pop of a lock as the illusion dissipates before them.]

who's there? batman, iron man, khaleesi.

[jalan]

[ Three floors tall, the grey rooftop of the Dispensary is just visible beyond the canopy of dense Virginian woodland. A slanted rooftop of corrugated iron is dull, matte against the low angle of the morning-low sun. Brown brickwork, long windows of glass and wooden boarding. Hey, look, a garden with a vegetable patch. Someone's hanging laundry, damp from being left out the night before. A garage as a satellite building is only barely hidden, as is the beaten earth road, recent tire tracks imprinted in damp earth.

Inside, Daenerys is awake. Who, after all, would dream of being asleep?

What Dr Chilton brought to her is feeling more and more credible with every passing minute, and it gnaws at her. She is no longer hungry, or thirsty, or tired, or truly in pain as she descends the stairs from her private quarters and enters the broad space of the lower level. Practical boots, choppy haircut and braid. Unarmed. The moment shifts, and this place feels profoundly alien to her. A blink, and equilibrium restores.

Around her, signs of life are just detectable. Quiet footsteps overhead. Someone closing the door to the sick bay. The kettle rumbling in the kitchen. She tips her chin up to follow these noises, and finally acknowledges the chill of the building by drawing her cardigan closer around her.

So this would be a good time to interrupt. ]

[liverletdie]

[ Interrupt was indeed the plan.

It was a good plan, too. Lots of coordination from the highers up. He'd been watching and tracking Chilton for some time, watching him and waiting. Evaluating the data while he used satellites and triangulation to figure out where the doctor was going -- and what the prize would be. The doctor had been a lure -- or rather, he'd been picked out by Stark, someone he knew that he could track, and well...

He always did like to be a thorn in his side when needed.

Which was why when they approached, he was enroute in his suit, breakneck speeds, before he went in for the landing, and oh, what a landing it was. He slammed into the ground in front of the building -- it was always about capturing, not destruction, and the building could be used for something else later if needed, and so he kept himself from destroying it in one go. Honestly, he was impressed with himself, and he even held off from taking the first shot, but strode to the door, and...

Well, he did have to cause some havoc. He broke it with a chrome plated fist, and ripped it off the hinges. ]

Good morning!

sorry for the delay! back to our regularly scheduled programming...

[the_caped_crusader]

[Barriers-- physical or magical-- were of little problem to Batman even before acquiring Richard's powers. It seemed so easy to enter, he was almost sure that they were prepared for him, but... they weren't. And that incessant nagging that something was wrong that he'd been feeling lately was there again, as though the realization that these weren't dangerous criminals but people trying to survive was slowly dawning on him behind the white noise of his reprogramming.

But his concentration is broken when Tony kicks down the door, and he turns his head slowly over his shoulder to his partner. He's already been here for quite some time.]

What took you so long?