A new text line went as follows.

DO YOU PEOPLE MIND? I'M SOMEHOW PICKING YOUR INANE CONVERSATIONS ON MY PC, AND THE BEEPING'S KEEPING ME AWAKE! CRAZY BASTARDS!

BUT, ON TOPIC, MR. SILVA IS PROBABLY SAFE FROM DISCRIMINATION, AS THESE ARE TEXT MESSAGES, WHICH ARE UNPRINTABLE, AND FURTHERMORE CANNOT BE PROVEN TO COME FROM MR. SILVA'S PHONE. I THINK. I MEAN, I'M PICKING THIS UP ON MY COMPUTER, SO I COULD COPY AND PASTE IT SOMEWHERE, AND I COULD PROBABLY EVEN PULL UP A PING ON MR. SILVA'S LOCATION OR SOMETHING, BUT WHY SHOULD I EVEN BOTHER? I DON'T KNOW YOU PEOPLES!

ESPECIALLY WHEN ONE OF YOU IS APPARENTLY INTO BONDAGE FETISH, AND ONE OF THE OTHER TWO MAY OR MAY NOT BE GAY!

Task sighed as he finished typing. He was lucky to have gotten a computer in his room, a sign of some freedom in the manor, but did it have to be as weird as everything else? He was fairly sure, that with some fudging around, he could access the school's camera systems, which was amazing since they were closed circuit.

The fact that the pc's drive space was represented by the infinity symbol was pretty weird too.

(OOC: That must be the coolest computer evar. Also-- Woo! RP phone chat!)

"Private conversations sure ain't what they used to be," sighed Trish. Who could this newcomer be? It had to be another student, if he/she knew Mr. Silva.

WHO ARE YOU!? Trish typed. HOW THE HECK DID EVERYONE SUDDENLY GAIN ACCESS TO MY PHONE??

....

She paused as the answer became instantly clear.

TROY YOU ARE A DEAD MAN!!!! Somehow Trish was able to type in bold font on her phone. It's... a ninja thing, I guess.

He had probably handed out her number, or messed with her phone, as a prank. Or maybe as payback for the time Trish had changed his ringtone to the My Little Pony themesong and called him whenever he was talking to someone he wanted to impress.

ANYWAY, she continued. AS LONG AS WE'RE ALL HERE, WOULD YOU MIND INTRODUCING YOURSELF?

Here goes nothing... I'm definitely screwed.

"Well, I'm not sure ,we should be leaving the defense of the school entirely up to The Society," he began. "Magic has been known to fail, and for all we know one of enemies could sabotage their defenses. We could use a backup.

Give me some engineers, some techies, and a few days, and we should be ready for anything short of a bomb."
"Well?" He asked after a moment. [COLOR="dimgray"]"What do you say Boss?"[/COLOR

How the heck did she type that in bold font? It's a cell phone for pete's sake!

WHO I AM IS OF LITTLE CONCERN! MOSTLY! YOU CAN CALL ME THIEFY1! BECAUSE AS PREVIOUSLY INDICATED, I DON'T KNOW IF I NEED TO NECESSARILY BE TALKING TO YOU GUYS, WHILE I'M TRYING TO RECUPERATE HERE. BROKEN ARM, BLACK EYES, GAPING WOUNDS, ETC.

((OOC: Okay…I’m wrapping this up, and we’ll finally be moving on tomorrow….I would “move on” tonight…but I’m too far gone mentally tonight for plot advancement.))

Tessa seemed to mull it over a few seconds. “It might be a little harder than you think,” she said. “Remember that you aren’t trying to fortify a military base…it’s a high school, which means that most of the defenses have to be out of sight and can’t be triggered by some-odd 2,000 kids running around the place. However...I think you may be onto something. When we go to the Citadel tomorrow, see if you can’t scrape up some people to help you out with it, and get some ideas on paper. Get it to me in a day or two, and I’ll see if I can’t get approval on it.”

Tessa stifled another yawn, and checked her watch. It was getting late. “Unless there’s anything else, Duane, I’m hitting the sack…it’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

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Nathaniel walked through the manor after finally getting back from the themepark. He saw the meeting taking place, but too care to avoid being seen by anyone in it. He quietly went up to his room and went to bed…after deciding for the 500th time that he was getting too old for this.

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Duncan, after watching Silva type with nothing for a few minutes, decided that he was all but forgotten, and that it was time to make good on his escape. He gave a polite bow in case Silva was still watching, and made for where he had come in from. After some searching, he found the way back out, and went home…and surprise, went to bed, wishing he could scrub his brain out with steel wool.


((OOC: Okay, wrap up what you have going, please. You don’t have to go to the Citadel if you don’t want to…I’m hoping it won’t take up too much time, just pass along some plot information, let people talk directly to their “superiors” if they so wish…stuff like that.))

"You can't beat me with these small numbers! Take this! Wings of Exodus!"
Two large black angel wings burst forth from Laurella's back. As she beat them rapidly, the dozens of demons trying to claw her to shred were blown back and assaulted with dark energies.
More were coming up on Laurella from behind. "Oh, no you don't! Devouring Tide!"
"Devouring" was a good choice of words, because that's exactly what the summoned wall of merciless water did to her victims. It swallowed them up. The foolish demons tried to flank her on her left side. "Ha ha ha! Perish! Perish, you fools! Obey the Mother of Hell and burn with this Hellfire Baptism!"
After purging the ruined battlefield of enemies, Laurella was joined by Jimmy and Zack and Silva, all professing true love and asking for her hand in marriage. All Laurella could do was laugh maniacally...

One of her eyes came open. She must've dozed off. HAVEN was showing hentai now. Looked like the final sex seen scene from the second episode of Bible Black. The Mother of Hell put her right hand over her face. "Man, I gotta stop watching hardcore porn every day of the week. If I keep this up, I'm sure to develop a second personality."

"And so she knows." Zack finished his report, the cloaked forms of the higher tiers of the Society watching him from within their hoods.

"You understand, Garret, that we specifically ordered you not to reveal your true identity to the Mother of Hell?" One of the forms questioned sternly.

Zack held his gaze... well, what he could see of the gaze. "Yes." Determined not to be bullied by his superiors, he changed the subject. "I have sent some new experimental symbols to the research circles for testing. They should arrive shortly. Oh," he took a breath. "and I'll be needing some more powerful sigil decks. My existing ones are a bit lacking."

His report concluded, he left the council room, smiling to himself at the muttering going on behind him.

((OOC: Er...musicmage...unless your talking to them elsewhere, we having gone to the Citadel yet.

We're doing that just now, actually.))

The following morning, those who were heading to the Citadel gathered in the rather spacious garage of McCragge Manor, whether they were getting in their own cars or hitching a ride from someone. Those who weren’t going to the Citadel had a day off to enjoy...even the high schoolers since, despite Mr. Silva’s reminder of their homework, the school was still closed.

Both those going and those staying did have one thing in common, however. On each of their bedroom doors was a note from Duncan, demanding that his credit cards be returned and that the person or persons who cancelled his normal TV service in favor of the more…risqué one seen last night pay for the costs. The note also stated that if the person or persons responsible didn’t surrender willing, and that if Duncan ever did find out who did it, they would suffer a fate worst than death…being sued by the McCragge’s team of lawyers.

Not really expecting a response, Duncan climbed into his car. He had a few things to look into the Citadel...but mostly he had nothing better to do, and it was always interesting to see people’s first reactions to seeing it.

He pulled out of the garage and into the warmish morning air. It turned out to be a good day for a drive anyways.

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The Citadel wasn’t located too far away from the city…about 100 miles as the crow flies, but the road definitely didn’t go as the crow did, so it took the better part of three hours to reach it.

Which isn’t to say that your average citizen on a road trip could stumble across it. The road that branches off the main road that leads to it had your typical Forest Service “Maintenance Road” sign in front of it. From this road branched a some would call insane number of side roads, some of which ended in dead ends, some of which lead to honest-to-goodness Forest Service maintenance stuff. For those few who did stumble on the right road found the nice, quiet tone of the Forest Service messages replaced by more ominous “No Trespassing” and “Government Property” signs. The landscape itself also acted as a deterrent in a way, as the trees began to show an almost unnatural twisting of the trucks and branches, and a slickly brownish-black color replaced the healthy looking color of the rest of the forest. Those very few who still continued onwards were finally stopped at a gate by two armed guards, who politely, if insistently, gave them directions back to the main road, backed by signs declaring that trespassers would be shot on sight.

However, there was even the rarer few who had passes to get into the said gate. The first thing that visitors would notice would be that the land was clear cut...not a single thing grew. The few stumps that still stood were burnt black. If you had the misfortune to get a mouthful of the local dirt, you would probably be surprised by the salty taste of it.

Once you got over the sudden lack of trees, you’d probably notice the large, concrete structure.

The Citadel was built almost like a dam, spanning from one end of a small canyon to another. From the sky, it could probably be mistaken for a dam, if it wasn’t for the obvious lack of water. The road leading up to the building passed through yet another gate, where a small parking lot was. The door leading into building itself was a huge thing…six inches thick and eight feet tall and wide. It swung open very slowly, but finally it cleared enough, and people began to walk in and out as one shift left and another came on.

“Welcome to the Citadel,” Tessa said, the comment aimed at those who had never been in the structure before. “Construction on the Citadel began more than a hundred years ago, but obviously, the building has been added on to and upgrade during it’s existence. The Society first started it’s construction in the late 1800s, however, during the Depression and World War II, S.E.C.A. came into possession of the area, and began to construct the structure as you now see it. Ten years ago, the Citadel was declared to be a neutral spot for all the supernatural-based organizations, meaning that no one organization controls the Citadel. Because of it’s neutral status, the Citadel was the perfect spot for the Council to meet. Speaking of which, the should be starting shortly, and I need to be there to report on the goings-on as of late. If you’ll excuse me…” Tessa turned and walked away.

Following suit, Nathaniel muttered something about having to meet someone and walked down a different hallway. Duncan waited for those who had business to attend to leave, and looked at the remainder of the group. “Now…you’re probably wondering why you came to this place in the middle of nowhere. Let me show you.”

Duncan lead them down a long hallway….if hallway was the right word. The passage way was a series of shallow switchbacks that must of run back and forth through the entire structure. Scattered through the hallway were parts where only one person at a time could fit, and each of these points were preceded and followed by a larger room with thick concrete dividers and a number of fully armed guards. Finally, they reached the bottom of the structure. Another thick metal door met them, and Duncan waved a keycard in front of the sensor, and the door slowly began to open.

The room beyond was a relatively simple affair. Windows covered by steel shutters faced outwards, and a trio of men were all that were in the large room. A older gentlemen in a S.E.C.A. uniform came over and approached the group, shaking Duncan’s hand. “Ah, it’s been awhile since you’ve been here,” he said. He then addressed the group. “I’m Major Steve Heroldson…formerly of the US Marine Corp and S.E.C.A. Strike Teams. Now, I’m in charge of the Watch Tower here. But, I suppose you’re not here to meet me…Duncan must want you to see it.”

The Major beckoned the group to follow him to the control panel. Now standing in front of one of the large windows, the Major flipped a switch on the panel. As the steel shutters began to rise, he said almost theatrically, “Behold…the Gates of the Hell.”

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The room beyond was vast, like a large warehouse that had nothing in it. But the room wasn’t bare. It was the shape of a oval, with the floor slanting inwards toward a central point. All around the room where painted wards and sigils. The floor itself was jagged, a series of sharpened blocks that were pointed towards the middle of the room. Scattered across the room were a variety of large weapons, ranging from .50 caliber machine guns to 30 mm cannons that looked out of place outside of a battlefield. Rings of what could only be mines of various types formed concentric rings around the room.

However, despite the vast amount of conventional and magical firepower in the room, everyone’s attention was immediately drawn to the center of the room.

On some basic level, it just seemed…wrong. After all, how could a heavy, blood-red gate just be there, as if suspended in the air. Even at a distance, the decorations on the Gates were plain to see and at the same time impossible to describe. The whole thing seemed to shimmer, as if being looked at from a distance on a hot day.

“The Gates,” the Major said, “were discovered by the first settlers in this area more than a hundred years ago. Not long after, the Society came, much to the relief of the locals. Despite the fact that the Gate has never opened, it bleeds off demonic energy at an alarming rate. You saw the trees on the way in, yes? That is the result of a low dosage over a prolonged period. For about 50 for so years, the Society just kept the area sealed off, hunting down the occasional monstrous creature that was created due to the energy bleed through. However, during the Depression, S.E.C.A. was official born and began to hunt down monsters. Needless to say, they were eventually lead here by local stories about monsters and such. As powerful as the Society is, they depend a great deal on their secrecy, so instead of fighting for the Gate physically or legally, they decided to let the fledging Agency take care of it. The Citadel itself was built during this time, as one of the many projects designed to give people jobs.

“Of course, it didn’t go so well at first. The energy bleed through was enough to drive men insane. After a number of deaths, S.E.C.A. sent out a plea for help to the various religious organizations. And I’ll tell you what, nothing gets centuries of hatred put aside like the threat of demonic invasion.

“If you look close enough, you can see a number of object surrounding the Gate. These include the Spear of Destiny, one of the Holy Nails, the Staff of Moses, the Sword of Mohammed…even some of the Relics of Buddha. These counter the demonic energy enough that the workers could get close enough to the Gate to build the room you now see. The guns in there are automated, tied to motion trackers at can be activated by us in here. They are feed by a ammo-drums underneath, and the drums hold a up to a hundred thousand rounds, with every hundredth round being a magic bullet of rotating elements. The wards are anti-demon wards, to try to keep the demons from getting beyond here, and the sigils contain some of the most power attack spells you can have…all waiting for the door to open to activate. The mines are a collection of anti-personnel and anti-armor...one in five are magically enhanced. The jags you see in there probably wouldn’t hurt a demon too much…just slow them down, give us time to deploy.”

The Major turned and looked at the group. “Take a good look at all this. I’ve been in charge of the Watch Tower for 10 years now, and I know it’s defenses inside and out. And, given my experience in S.E.C.A., it is my professional belief that, if that Gate opens, all that in there will accomplish absolutely nothing. Oh, we’ll bleed the demons, alright…I’ll guarantee there will be a pile of corpses surrounding the Gate. But eventually we’ll run out of ammo, or a powerful demon will come through, and that will be the end of that. This entire place is designed to keep the demons at bay should the Gate open…heck, right next to the Gate are two nuclear warheads that were put there back the 90’s because someone came up with the idea that two EMPs colliding at the Gates would be enough to close them. But, it is my belief that those bombs will kill a lot of demons…and a lot of people…but it wouldn’t stop them.

“Take a good look,” he said again. “That’s what you are fighting to keep closed.”


((Summary: Some people go to the Citadel to talk to their superiors or to see the Gates of Hell. You see the Gates, and get told that "bad things" will happen if they open.

Those of you who didn't go have the day off...this includes Trish and Troy (assuming Hawk lets them go), but not Josiah...who is still in custody because he is not being helpful.))

(oops. For some reason I accidentally found the "insta post" key combination on my keyboard.)

SO YOU GUYS STILL THERE?

An inquisitive Task asked the next morning of the field trip, his arm somewhat better and his stomach capable of eating foods. He'd talked with two people and what may have been his teacher (among other things) through the night, but eventually passed out into sleep with a Kthnksbye.

He'd woken up to breakfast in bed, magically whisked there by some unknown secret maid force o'doom, and a note that explained that the elders were at some sort of "Citadel" and for him to not do anything while they were gone. "Getting well quickly is your dominate priority." it read.

Well, it was as close as Task was going to get to a "Get well soon."

Bored and aching, Task decided to give another call to the two people he'd texted the night away with. He hoped they were no longer trapped somewhere, and that no one wanted to trap him as well for texting them.

There was no immediate answer. Suppose he'd used up all their texting allowance on their cell phone plans?

Laurella was a little irritated that she did the homework and couldn't at least turn it into Mister Silva. So many people had gone off to the Citadel that she had decided to invite a friend to her house.
"So Mister Silva was really here?" Stacey asked as they changed into bikinis and went down to the pool.
Laurella was still sporting the pink two-piece of blue floral patterns. Stacey simply wore a violet one-piece.
"Yeah, briefly," Laurella mused. "I only saw him on the security cameras for a little while. I guess he showed up because some of the other students from school arrived here. Or maybe he had me figured out from the start. I dunno, I can't remember everyone who is supposed to be protecting me."
"Even Jimmy?" Stacey said, grinning like an imp. "There, you're lotioned up. Now my turn."

Laurella put her top back on and put some lotion in her hands as Stacey pulled her whole bikini down past her thighs. They continued idle chatter as Laurella prepared Stacey for a good tan.
"By the way, it's my eighteenth birthday today."
"What?! How in the hell did I forget about that? Well, Happy Birthday, Stacey. I'll bake a cake when we're done here."
"I appreciate that." Stacey said. "Hey, Laura? I have an idea for a present you could give me."
"Oh? What's that?"
"Later. We can talk about it later. I mean, I can stay here tonight, right?"
Laurella nodded. "Of course you can stay here tonight, Stacey. Actually, sometimes I worry about you and everyone else at the school, especially since that day you all became possessed."
Stacey looked really happy. "Great! We can talk about what you can give to me tonight, then."
"Whatever it is, don't make it too unreasonable, y'know?"
Laurella and Stacey both donned shades and relaxed in the sun.