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Triessa Elrich

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Triessa Elrich last won the day on June 12

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  1. "Yeah, you guys work out who should send who in first and everything," Hex said. "Sounds super important. Imma go in next." With her left hand facing north she made the mudra for exclusion and spoke 'Defendarius.' The shielding spell flickered around her as it stabilized then became invisible. Hex strolled on up to the entrance then, watching carefully for signs of foul play...and ready to intervene in a hurry if Mega-Girl ran afoul of anything.
  2. "Jesus," Hex murmured to herself as the magical probes she sent into the shimmering 'arclight' field returned information to her. Her hands went to her temples. "Jesus shitting on the cross." Abruptly she turned to look at the others, eyes wide. "You guys, this arclight is serious shit. It's got magic IN it, but it's all woven into other things too, and the total amount of power in it is off the charts. I've never seen anything like this. And it's not like the field of magic is a thriving and modern field of study, but there are rules and this breaks almost all of them. Whoever's doing this has access to power that...is basically godlike." Then, belatedly, she noted the newest member of the team. "Oh. Hey. Fashionably late, eh? Nice."
  3. "I..." Hex pointed at Elastica and wagged her finger for a moment, then shook her head. "Nope. I'm noping on this. You." She shifted the point to Starsign. "You're saying it looks like what I do? I'd assumed it was tech, but I can follow up on that. You guys entertain Malibu Dream Car here, and I'll see what I can find out." Hex lifted her hands and fashioned her fingers into a complex series of shifting, interlocking patterns as she murmured in Latin under her breath. Violet light twisted up away from her hands, curling into circles with geometric shapes rotating within them.
  4. "Yeah, but what about someone who just invents cool gadgets?" Hex asked. "Or me...if I'd never picked up a book of magic, I'd have lived my whole life just like anyone else. We're not all mutants." She shrugs. "But you're right, we don't know enough to make assumptions. Just feels off to me."
  5. "Ooo. Sobriquet. Fancy." She shook her head and made a little gesture with her right hand. "It means magic. I'm a wizard, Harry." "The reason I was asking about your doctorness, was because I was curious about how this 'field' might work? Is it even...remotely plausible? Because it feels kind of like a bluff to me. Obviously we can't take the risk, which is why we're here, but still. Just for my own back-patting, what's your take on this?"
  6. "In this case less of a 'job' than a 'show,'" Hex opined. Then she belatedly added, "I'm Hex. By the way. Anyway, the nutbag behind it seemed pretty intent that we play by the rules on this...march in the front door, no cheaties and so on. As for what we're waiting for...well, we need everyone to be here. Since none of us know how many there are, I assume our gracious host will let us know when it's all ready to go." She regarded Psypher narrowly. "Real doctor or just name decoration?"
  7. “Hello, ladies, I’m Jessica and I’m guessing we are all here for the same thing?” Hex looked over at Jessica and gave her a thumbs-up. "Free drinks for ladies in the lounge? Hell yes we are." As Dr. Psypher came jogging over in his glowy tech-armor Hex added, "Hey look, a penis. That's new."
  8. In the shaded recesses of her hood, Hex lifted an eyebrow quizzically at Summer. "Get him laid, huh? Not it." Hex nodded at Mega-Girl then. "You're right that he knew too much, but that doesn't change the fact that this whole situation is deeply absurd. In my line of work, when you see something that looks impossible, it's usually because you're looking at the wrong thing. There's too much theater in this, you know? All eyes are going to be here." "Makes me wonder where our eyes aren't supposed to be."
  9. Triessa saw the address on the television of the coffee store she'd fallen into to combat her jetlag. It felt pretty surreal watching that though...the kind of thing you'd laugh at in a movie because it was so contrived. Blue light that only hurt normal people? Like, how did that even work? What about her? She wasn't a mutant or something...did just knowing magic make you immune, or was she going to get hosed by this? How the hell did you make a weapon that spared 'metahumans' when that term covered such a huge number of different kinds of things? And then this whole deal with turning a building into a 'gauntlet.' Again, she had lots of questions. Like, how did that happen quietly? Just floor by floor, workers were told to stay home? Without the company knowing? Or was the company behind this? But why would a company slaughter most of their local customers? None of this added up. What the fuck though, right? She'd come to New York. Might as well sign up for the whole tourist package. See the Big Apple, have a hyper-caffienated beverage, save the world or something. Buy a goddamn postcard and then forget where you put it. She made her way out of the coffee place and ducked around to the side, where a narrow space that seemed too small to be an 'alley' separated it from the adjacent building, with juuuuuust enough room for trashcans and for a person to squeak past them if they turned sideways. With a quick glance up and down the alleyway to verify she wasn't being watched, Triessa cast the spell she'd worked on all the way over. Words in Latin...she figured Latin was popular for magic the same reason it was popular for science; a dead language, the meaning of the words wasn't changing anymore...movements of her hands and fingers into mudras. On some level she realized it was just a kind of conditioning...associating specific mental and emotional states with specific behaviors so she could, for brief moments, exert nearly total control over her mind. Just long enough to let only the thing she wanted bubble up after she punched the universe hard enough to split its lip. Shadows from the dim, narrow passage bent towards her, like iron filings towards a magnet. The twined and coiled around her, and then slipped back into their normal positions. In their wake though, Triessa was transformed. Taller, more buxom and yet slimmer in her midsection, with pale skin and dark violet hair and a leotardy thing that showed off her curves, and a cool flowing cloak with a hood (not a cape, damnit). Set in her forehead was a slim crystal or jewel that she thought gave her a sort of otherworldly look. A dark sort of haze streamed from her, kind of like smoke, kind of like shadows. It all made Triessa want to go back in time to her 13 year old self and show her how 'goth' and 'angst' she'd be in another decade or two. Not that it would have helped much. Even back then, she'd known a poser when she'd seen one. Right then. She looked at her map and took a second to work out where the building was, and where her coffee shop was. Good enough. Another spell cast and she melted away into a thick blue-black cloud that dissipated just as fast. ------------------------------- Alphatech Building ------------------------------- "Did you see anyone else coming?" Autumn asked. Someone other than Mega-Girl answered though. "No, but that doesn't mean no one else is." Emerging from a shaded spot behind a tree was a rather striking young woman of most peculiar appearance. She nodded at each of the others there. "I'm Hex. Lucky holder of a Golden Ticket to Willy Wonka's Psycho Factory. Also, ten bucks says this is a massive publicity stunt. Calling it now."
  10. "All right. One last time. From the top." "I'm private investigator. I investigate things. Privately. Three days ago I took a job from a client asking me to investigate the disappearance of Harold Trent and his daughter Juniper. I did some digging. Turns out Harold is an immigrant who took a new name when he naturalized. Used to be Herrod Teshne. Old guy, old money...I'm thinking maybe the daughter wanted a pre-emptive inheritance then skipped with the money, but...yeah, you see it...she didn't inherit because she disappeared too. So I nosed around some more...starting with that inheritance. You gotta figure when an old rich guy vanishes, nine times out of nine it's about the money. His estate's still in probate obviously, but there was a funny thing. A work order for moving a couple of containers from their original storage unit to a new one. Containers were shown as 'sundries' on the manifest, which...doesn't help much. But since the new location was owned by someone else, I figured it was worth taking a closer look." Triessa hadn't smoked in years, but she found the familiar old craving right where she'd left it, gnawing on her brainstem contentedly. It would give her something to do with her hands, for one...and give her an excuse to pause and think about what to say next. "That's where the warehouse comes in. Or, I mean, that's where I come into the warehouse. I saw the shipping crate there, roughly in the middle with a big cleared out space around it. Three guys in turtlenecks...big guys, I'm going to guess ex-military mercenaries but I haven't exactly had a chance to follow up yet." She jingled her wrists, currently chained to the table, to emphasize the point. "Anyway, they were arguing about something while one of them fussed around with the crate. I couldn't see from where I was, so I started getting in closer and...gunfire." Triessa shook her head. "I thought I was dead, you know? All I could think was that you can't feel the gunshot at first. I was looking down at myself, then more shots, and I finally smartened the fuck up and dropped. And it's a damn good thing I did, because a few seconds after that..." With an exhaled 'kapssshhhhhhhhhh' noise she splayed her fingers to simulate the explosion. "Next thing I know, I'm waking up with a headache, tinnitus, and cops shouting at me to show my hands out where they can see them." The detective, she hadn't caught his name, was staring at her across the table with his slightly too-round eyes and his slightly sunken cheeks. "And that's all," he said flatly. "That's all I got," Triessa sighed. "I didn't see the shooters, or what caused the explosion. If I had to guess, maybe they were rigging charges to blow the crate and someone hit the stockpile..." "Don't guess," the interrogator cut her off, "You're not an investigator here. You're a suspect." "Jesus fuck, man, what do you think is going on here?" Triessa demanded. "I lugged a half pound of C-4 or something all the way across town to a random warehouse I have no connection to just to blow half of it up and set the other half on fire? While I'm in it?" Now the detective emoted, a little. He smiled a thin, annoyed smile. "Well that's the difference between us. You think and you guess, but me? I prefer facts. The fact is that I don't know what's going on, but I do know you're not telling me everything. So, lets start with who your goddamn cli..." There was a knock on the door to the interrogation room. A sharp rap, three times. A cop-knock. The detective sat back, still staring at Triessa. At the second knock he stood up and went to the door, then stepped outside. She couldn't hear the conversation that was going on outside, but figured it probably had something to do with her not having been officially charged with anything yet. Which could be good...or it could be a precusor to being charged, which would not be good. A few minutes later a detective came back in. Not the one who'd left though. Triessa sat up, startled but relieved to see a friendly face. Malcolm. After a second she felt unease creeping back in. His face wasn't that friendly right now. "Hey," she said, trying to keep her voice and attitude light and unconcerned. "Didn't think you'd be taking the case." "I'm not," Malcolm replied tersely. "What I'm doing is potentially putting my neck on a chopping block, so I'd like some goddamn answers from you." Triessa looked away, unable to meet that intense stare. "Harold Trent had some containers stored there, but that's not who you were tracking," Malcolm said, as if stating a known fact. "Tell me. I want to hear it from you." She rubbed her mouth with a couple of fingers, then said, "It was my dad. The container they were trying to get into was dad's." "Mercenaries? Gunfire?" Triessa fell silent for a long moment, then said, "Not mercenaries. Not guns. There was...resistance. A lot of it, actually... Things got a bit heated. And then..." "...and then half the fucking warehouse got exploded," he finished, his voice hard and sharp as a sword's edge. "What the fuck, Triessa?" It was finally too much. Triessa looked back at Malcolm and met his anger with her own. "I KNOW, okay?! It was NOT my fault. It wasn't human beings guarding the place, that's why there weren't any bodies. Whoever set it up was into some dark-ass shit, and I was fighting for my life. It wasn't my spell that blew the place up!" Malcolm narrowed his eyes. "But it wouldn't have blown up if you hadn't showed up. If you hadn't tried to fight them off instead of just getting the fuck out." "They HAD something! Something I could have used to track them, or at least get some answers! You think I'm walking away from that?" "Yeah, Tri. I do." Malcolm's face and voice calmed, but stayed firm...every bit the man who'd been there for Triessa and done his best to guide her when she was young and struggling to cope with the loss of her parents. "This is what people like me are for." "The police?" Triessa demanded, "come on, you don't have department mystics. You don't have the knowledge, or the resources, or the...the..." "Oh yeah? And how'd you do?" Hm? Did you get the container? Open it? No. You got it blown up. You got yourself in a whole heap of trouble, and you're risking your freedom and my career." Malcolm sighed and turned away, walking a few steps back towards the door. "I'm going to smooth this over. It's going to cost me, but I can pay it. In return, you have to promise me that Triessa is not going to follow up on this and keep pushing." She tried to stand up, but the chains anchoring her to the table caught her halfway up. "Are you kid..." "...if someone else wants to push and push and fuck things up for themselves, I can't stop them," Malcolm went on, as if he hadn't heard her. "But see to it that Triessa keeps her nose clean. No fighting monsters or mercenaries or whatever, no blowing anything up. I'm not going to be able to do this again. Are we clear?" Triessa paused then, frowning. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? Someone else. Someone not Triessa. Someone who didn't look, or sound or go by the name of Triessa. Someone who's actions wouldn't be connected to hers, at least not easily. Jesus, why didn't she think of that sooner? "Yeah," she said softly. "We're clear." I'm not wearing spandex though. Fuck that noise. Malcolm had his back to her, and he hadn't a drop of magic or psychic potential, but she could feel him knowing what she was thinking, and knew he had a big smile on his face as he walked out of the interrogation room. Goddamnit. That was another one she owed him.
  11. Prank, Triessa thought as she stared at the letter woodenly. Stupid prank. Her eyes went to the crest at the bottom. She'd only seen it a few times before, on some of the really old papers in the old study. It turned out the Elrichs were kind of a big deal in the mystical mumbo-jumbo scene. Or had been, until they'd vanished. Until she'd come along. Very few people in the world knew that there were any left. Triessa only knew of a half-handful. Only one of them was confirmed to want her dead. Wizard prank? Goddamnit. She wanted to wad the thing up and throw it into the fire. Or maybe work a trace spell on it and see if she could find out who sent it, then remind them about the whole 'meddle not with wizards' adage that everyone seemed to keep forgetting. Triessa doubted the entire city of New York was in danger...the place had plenty of defenders...and if it WAS in danger she doubted that she could do much about it. She wasn't a 'power player' even in the Windy City. The whole thing was a transparent ruse. But no. If there was even a chance that it was real, she couldn't sit by and do nothing. And when whoever was behind it tipped their hand...and these guys always did...she'd be ready to smack it. Congratulations, asshole. You got my attention. You may not like how that goes for you. Grimdark thoughts of petty vengeance circulating in her noggin, Triessa dialed up Marty. "Hey, squirt. I need you to cast a spell for me." There was a pause, then a long-suffering sigh. "Isn't that your thing?" "Sorry, you must have misheard. I said spell, not sass. Wave your hands at your magic demon box and get me a roundtrip flight to New York, wouldja? Economy. Like...asap. Tomorrow." Muffled laughter on the other side of the line. Marty was a good kid who had not yet learned that someone saving your life, and mom's soul, did not actually mean you owed them forever. Triessa tried not to take advantage, but she didn't have a computer, and didn't want to short out an entire internet cafe again. In theory stripping off her spells would help avoid it...but she always felt very, very vulnerable like that. Shit. Airplane. Is this a good idea? You can't even leave cellphones on in an airplane. Driving to New York from Chicago in three days would be, uh...pushing it. A lot. She'd have to risk the plane. There were ways to mitigate the danger, with preparation. The distorting effects of magic could be dampened out, or the active effects sublimated into a talisman that wouldn't disturb anything until the power in it was released. Not ideal, but it was the best she could do. The magic alternatives to airplanes for long distance travel that fast were much, much scarier than risking shorting out a cockpit and sending herself and hundreds of others to a firey fuel explosion and impact trauma-related death on the ground 5 miles below. "Okay," Marty replied. "I got it booked. Same card as that thing from Amazon?" Triessa cleared her throat. "Uh. How much?" "Like three hundred. Three fifty." Frantically the wizardess racked her brain, trying to do a quick headcount of the charges she had on that card. "Okay, yeah. Give it a try." There was a tense moment, and then the kid said, "Okay, you're booked." He paused, then added, "Is this for another case?" "Yeah, I...I got a letter. They need me to go. It's a bit out of my territory, but..." "I get it," Marty said emphatically. "They need you, so you have to go. That's what you do." Triessa felt her heart lurch a little. That's not it, she wanted to say. Some dick is fucking with me, and I need to show it the error of its ways. This is not me being a hero. She didn't though. He deserved better than that. "Take care of yourself," she said fondly. "Say hi to everyone for me." "Will do. Bye." The line closed. A second later Triessa's outdated phone beeped weakly to let her know she had mail. She checked it, then went to her room to start throwing clothes into an overnight bag. This was probably as close to a 'vacation' as she'd be seeing anytime soon. Might as well make the most of it.
  12. Name: Triessa Elrich Super-Nom-de-Plume: Hex Gender: Female Ethnicity: Caucasian Age: 25 Manner: Serious/Sarcastic Value Who: Family/Clients Value What: Friendship Attitude: No one will hurt me again Appearance Triessa is a pretty average looking 25 year old with short brown hair, thin-rimmed glasses, and a nice smile...when she tries to use it. She likes sweaters in dark hues, comfortable-fit pants, and sneakers. In her 'superheroic' form, she is taller and shapelier, pale-skinned with a tight black bodysuit and a flowing cloak made of shadows that writhe and roil around her. Background After enrolling in Chicago State University and getting high enough marks to qualify for honors studies, Triessa unexpectedly dropped out of all her courses shortly after being released from the hospital after a serious incident involving a home invasion. What she had discovered, in the worst possible way, was that her parents had been some kind of protectors of ancient secrets, and that she had lousy taste in boyfriends...and now they were gone and she had a lot to learn in a very short period of time. After some time immersing herself in the study of the library of magic she had inherited with the disappearance of her parents, she needed a way to make ends meet. Triessa decided that being a private investigator would be perfect, since it would help her build skills she'd need to find her folks. That search however led her to some dark and dangerous places, and even more dangerous people. After nearly being jailed for a crime she didn't commit, Triessa saw some value in separating her magical hijinks from her public persona. For this she invented the appearance of 'Hex,' a mystic illusion she could create around herself to protect her legal person and business from the consequences of sometimes being involved in high-octane adventures. Powers Triessa is an exceptional and driven person, but her only truly superhuman ability is an uncanny facility at comprehending and using the ancient magical arts. Heir to a bloodline that has included some of the most powerful sorcerers in history, she has only begun to truly comprehend that potential that lies at her fingertips. Unfortunately, that is also true of many other interested, and far less benevolent, powers. Stats
  13. Anjala nodded slowly. "All right. Mission accomplished for now. Open a channel to the Destiny, I'll brief the captain." When the comm channel was open, she addressed the captain's face on the small screen. "We located the Crater, drifting with minimal power. She was emitting a distress signal warning it had been disabled by gravitic mines. Further scans showed no evidence of that kind of weapon being used. We did chart the locations of the cloaking emitters so they can be targeted and destroyed, but...I think we need to consider the possibility that the crew of the Crater may be hostage. Charging in, blowing up the cloaking field, could endanger them." She leaned over, sending the gathered tactical and sensor data they'd collected to the Destiny. "Just before we pulled out, we used an active sensor pulse to look for mines. Not only did we not find mines, we didn't see another ship either. It could be cloaked, but that would be a cloak inside a cloak, which seems extravagant. I still have no idea what's going on here, but I think we have a better chance of approaching the Crater without escalating the situation than the Destiny."
  14. "By the time that 1.3 seconds is over, have us back outside," says the Lieutenant. "We should have everything we need at that point to take out the cloaking field, navigate the mines, and reach the Crater. We'll transmit it to Destiny and rendez-vous with them as they move in for the rescue."
  15. "All right," Anjala said as she leaned over the chairs to see the instruments. "J'sira, take a look at these readings. Can you tell us anything about the condition of the Crater we're not seeing? Signs of damage?" She then went on, "T'set, on my mark conduct as thorough a sensor sweep as you can of the corridor between our present position and the position of the Crater. The goal is to map the minefield to the best of your ability." "Ensign, on the same mark, start backing us up out of the cloaking field. If anyone's watching, we'll light up like a star on their screens when we start that scan. Keep the window of exposure as brief as possible." "What's your estimate on how long you need, T'set?"
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