A gaunt, dark haired man speaks to an empty, dimly lit lecture hall in a voice betraying a lifetime of smoking. "The Nothing could not stay nothing, and from this came the chaos of life. Energy beckoned to become matter, and so it was. In any instance life could find a way to exist in the cosmos, it did, forcing itself upon the void. In the harshest survival conditions known to man, the spark of life seems to flicker. What we know of life, and what we will know, is always at odds, for often settling on facts can be harmful to the inquisitive soul; for life is nothing if not change. But what has changed, what is changing and what will change? We must endeavour to be on the front of these questions, if we hope to better understand our place in the universe, and either stay a constant or change with it." He pauses for a moment, eyes shifting and darting to the corner-shadows of the room." So, with that in mind, let us delve into the Weird-*ahem* Voidmyth and its institute of fringe science, let us together explore what splendors have forced their way out of the Absence and taken its place among matter and the living. For the sprawling void births such fantastic things, and we are lucky to be beholden to them in our time..." As if almost out of breath, he shakily sits down and produces a flask from his coat pocket. From a distance it would appear as any standard drinking flask, but up close one would notice fine etchings of strange sigils upon its brushed-steel surface. He discreetly imbibes the tonic, carefully looking around before doing so. He stifles a gag and shivers, now settling to staring at the vacant seatings in the hall. Deep golden eyes scan the room, looking for something not there. It's quiet, only the rushing water in the pipes of the building can be heard. The man sighs, puts the flask away and buries his face in his hands. "Guess I drew the short straw on this one." His voice is muffled by his coarse hands riddled by eczema. "Public-fucking-speaking!" He exclaims. "With all I know, and all I've seen, speaking to a mass of people should be a walk in the fucking park." Groaning he stands up, joints clicking and creaking "I guess we don't get to choose our fears..." He concludes, whispering under his breath.
Like a man with no sense of what to do with himself, he broodingly stands at the podium, oozing dread. "It would seem they choose us, Ezikiel" A voice slithers from the gloom in response "Presenting A.D.I theory to an empty room, the irony isn't lost on me" A pale, bald man wearing an faded grey coat with oxidized bronze buttons emerges from the umbra, crooked white teeth bared in a smile. "Lloyd." Ezekiel nods, in cold acceptance of his collegue. He mirrors the pale man's movement, gauging him as he glides as a spectre down the study stairs. "To think the brightest minds of earth will be here tomorrow, to watch you stumble through our revelations. It's going to be a hoot, Iz!" Lloyd proclaims giddily. Ezekiel fights a grimace of disgust and responds "Hoot or not, it needs to be done. I suppose you are here to survey the building, Mr. Haggs? I can't imagine another reason for you being present." Lloyd observes the flickering shadows, and begins to speak vacantly "All our delicate work laid bare before the common plebeians, all our carefully gained knowledge issued for them to doubt and dispute..." He trails off as he raises an enormous ornate ring to his nose, opens it, and snorts its wispy golden-dark content. "But yes, survey, Mr. Gloaman" He grunts, face contorted in discomfort. "Survey, secure, scout-out. You know, protocol.” He adds. Ezekiel raises an eyebrow in response "You? Protocol?" Zeke chuckles half mockingly as Lloyd shoots him a piercing gaze, a grim visage looming on his face. "Despite what the past might have shown, I am a whore for order. I am nothing if not professional, you'll see." A defiant smirk traces Lloyd's lips.
Ezekiel fidgets with his red blazer, trying to center himself in the face of the response "I'll leave you to it then, we both know our roles in this play." He briefly brushes his moustache, his fingers fine with scars "If you see Ren, will you tell her I said 'hi'?" He adds, nonchalantly tucking his grey shirt into his jeans. Cyan eyes meet gold as Lloyd fixates on Ezekiel "I won't see her, and you certainly won’t" He strikes a mocking sad-face. "It is just the way things are, you should come to terms with Obfuscation" He says, with a trace of both callousness and sympathy. The corner of Ezikiel's mouth twitches at the word. He scoffs, scratches his neck, the presence of psoriasis strong, and quickly changes the subject "Yes, well, I doubt speaking to an empty room will do me much good in the coming days, can you remind me what the Codex says about alcohol on the job?" Ezekiel feels nauseous at the notion of doing this sober.
"Be well, Iz." Lloyd waves dismissively in an off-hand manner, proceeding with gliding from chair to chair, beginning his survey. Silent and conceited, Ezikiel opens the blinds to the large gothic windows of the lecture hall, auburn autumn light cascading through now, driving away the gloom. Holding his hand over the chest pocket where his flask is, he ponders for a moment, then taking a step into the light, he is obliterated into fine particles that wisp away on the sunbeam highway.
Shimmering like water on a mirror, Lake Lucerne sprawls through the Ruess valley at the foot of titanic mountains. Fall has painted its well-known colours on the trees, and the September wind brought the frigid gales one knows too well. It would have been peaceful, if not for the looming revelation of what Voidmyth is, to the world, Ezikiel thought to himself, slumped over the railing, cigarette clenched between scarred fingers. The balcony was pristine and modest, only the cigarette buds on the floor broke the facade of a well maintained hotel. On the outside table were tobacco, papers, the strange flask, a pad of sorts and a deep-red, sleek-sheathed rapier with an ornate yet simple protective hilt. It's appearance implied a repurposed design of a medieval weapon, and Ezikiels eyes were never far from it. He takes a sip of coffee and clears his throat "...A.D.I is the acronym for Absence, Divide and Insistence, the three main principles for all there is and isn't...and what is in between. The Absence can be interpreted as the void, and Insistence: matter- or energy, depending how you look at it. The Divide is the transistioning between the two states, we call this the Veil at times, this is where energy goes from being to not-being and all of this sounds fucking insane if you haven't been indoctrinated from friggin' birth! Motherfuck!" Ezekiel launches his mug a great distance, before cringing at the inevitable clatter of porcelain hitting solid ground. "Oh you're a veteran Izzy, you're relatable and down to earth Izzy, surely they'll listen to you." He says, mock soaking every word. "I didn't invent A.D.I theory! I only know the basics, and even that is a goddamn PHD in and of itself. How will or could they ever understand?" Sighing he flicks his bud and turns to sit down. "I need a new mug." He says defeated, blankly staring at the horizon just above the railing. Faint as a dog whistle, a keen sound emits from the black pad on the table. Groaning in annoyance of being disturbed, he places his palm on the black sleek surface. "Whisper Agent Gloam responding. Unless you're bringing booze, I don't want to talk to you" He proceeds to absent-mindedly roll a cigarette. "Whisper agent Fairwether contacting. You don't drink anymore Zeke, and you're not going to start now, so knock it off." A deep female voice rings in his head. Before he has a chance to respond she continues: "In any case, this is just a check up. You got a good look at the place?" Iz licks the now finished smoke and spits a sliver of tobacco out "I did, yes. I'm a bit hazy on the security element though. Are our agents intertwined with NATO's or..?" There's a ruffle of papers ``We got it covered, you just focus on presenting Voidmyth’s principles and interests." Fairweather responds. There's a long silence "Zeke..? You there?" She asks, puzzled. "Truthfully, why me? I mean there are other operatives in the organization that are far more qualified-'' She breaks him off. "We've been over this, but if you want my honest opinion, I think it's because the higher ups want to test you, see how far you've come with handling yourself in aspects such as this- but we can’t rightly know, or we are not to know. You take care now, if in doubt consult the Codex. I'm inbound for Switzerland tomorrow, I'll see you then." Ezekiel blows a smoke ring that is caught by a gentle zephyr "Yeah yeah, you as well. And if you could tell Haunt Command that Lloyd is creepy and should be kept on a fucking leash that would be grand". Fairweather chuckles "I'm not speaking to those perverse delinquents, do it yourself. Fairweather out." The thin tone stops, and Ezekiel, in his underwear, watches the sun descend behind the grey Swiss giants of the horizon.
Night had come to Lake Lucerne, early hoar frost laid its veil upon the hotel windows, and spread out, Ezikiel lay on his bed tangled in linen. Then, the tell-tale wailing from his slab rises through the silent dark. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee*snore*eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee*snore*eeeeeeeeeeeeeee*sno-grunt* "Who the ever-loving-shit is calling me at this time of night! I'm not even on fucking call!" Zeke slams his sweaty palm against the screen of the slab. "Whisper Agent Gloam responding you rancid fucking skunk-cunt!" Silence. "Oh is it procedure now to use this line for prank calls now? Show some fucking professionalism, Fairweather!" Silence "Okay, shit, I'm sorry, now will you please tell me what I can do for you, FW?" He clenches the bridge of his nose, the silence persisting. "Fairweather?" Static fills his head with words flowing in and out of understanding "Shhhzzzhhz-did you lose it?- Kreessshh" The voice is horrible. He stares through the darkness, keen golden eyes scouting for anomalies. "Identify yourself." Zeke projects, reaching for his rapier "OOoooOosuuu-Where is your Well, Ezekiel?-Ffffffffffffff" Cold fear grips him as he looks at his nightstand only to find his flask is not there, and the familiar sick, piercing feeling of rising panic permeates his every fiber"MMMMhhhh- You'll die without it you fool.-Haaaah" Ezekiel flings himself out of bed only to find his legs are being unraveled at the core. His bones glow with a ravenous hunger and he screams as he is undone.
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Jolting up in his bed, Zeke desperately reaches for his flask. Finding it on the nightstand he takes a long draft from it, sputtering and coughing. Heaving and hyperventilating he exclaims haggardly "Sweet fu-huck..." He tries to gather himself in all of this. Where is he? Who is he? Nevermind that, all that matters right now is his Well, and the sustaining Seethe it contains. "Uuugh" His groan is long and exasperated, telling of a familiarity with the experience. Sweat burns his scabbed body and he clutches his Well as he sits on the edge of the bed, getting his bearings. "That's the Weirdmyth guarantee; life-long anxiety and night terrors." He lights a smoke "The public speaking today probably didn't help" He speaks softly as he exhales. His eyes widen as he register his words "Oh fuck me! Fuck me! It's today!" Ezikiel throws himself on his back and thrashes around on the bed, like a kid in the midst of a temper tantrum. "All those grey pricks judging me. I don't wanna!" A faint smell of burnt fabric wafts his way "Huh? Argh!" He taps the bed sheet, his cigarette having left a small charred hole in the linen. "Wonderful start to the day, Iz." He says to himself getting up and heading for the shower.
Water trickles down Ezekiel's battle-worn body. Fine white lines trace where his bones lay and red crackling patches dot the landscape of his form. Occasionally he peeps his head out of the shower to check on his rapier and flask, slightly paranoid that one moment they will simply be gone. Ezekiel relaxes under the stream of tepid water, the trials of this morning seemingly not occupying much headspace, it is however thoughts of a woman that are present. Dark hair and silver eyes dance across his mindscape, and a warm feeling collides with an empty coldness, almost stirring up a storm in him. He wonders what she might be doing right now, where she is and if she's happy. He buries the empty feeling, snapping back to reality, and to his coming performance. "Better take a dump before the speech, I would rather not soil myself in front of 'the brightest minds on earth', preferably" He thinks to himself, gargling and spitting. Just as he finishes the thought a bright light flashes from the main room, causing feelings of alarm and puzzlement to stir in Ezekiel. "Is that you Fairweather? I'm in the shower!" He turns off the water and steps out, reaching for a towel. "You're early, but I think I can squeeze in a private show, though you'll have to-" Naked he stands there, arm out grasping for a towel, frozen in place. A dark woman with golden eyes and platinum hair stands in the bathroom doorway, her arm outstretched in a fist and two strangers behind her with ornate flintlocks drawn. "Whisper agent Gloaman, I shackle you for Codex violations against Voidmyth." Ezekiel rolls his eyes "What bullshit is this now.."
A crushing weight bears down on Ezekiel, pinning him to the floor of his hotel room, unphased he stares patiently at the ceiling. Over him looms the imposing figure of the white haired woman, on her palm a small, sleek, black stone lays which she focuses on intensely. It is silent, only the sound of the two other agents rummaging through Ezekiel's belongings is heard. "Want to tell me about this Codex violation, Fairweather? It would seem it is serious, seeing as how you've seen fit to shackle me" He says with a nonchalant undertone. "Could you at least cover up my privates?" Fairweahter shoots him a wild stare and concludes her communication by holstering the stone. "Is that the new Ether-communicator model? It looks very portable." Ezekiel quibs as Fairweather squats down, the Shackling causing a low hum to emanate from around him "Because we are friends, I'll dispense with some of the usual protocol, Izzy. But in return, I want you to tell me the absolute truth. Did you agitate the HM Cluster at Lucerne University with the intent of causing a MCA?" Ezekiel blinks several times, confused not at the terminology, but rather their intent. "Say again?" Fairweather sighs and rephrases, with a hint of pity in her voice "Did you purposefully agitate designation 5-3-8-5-0-Q-C Hollowmass Cluster with the intent of causing a Massive Cluster Airblast?" Iz looks Fairweather in the eyes, trying to dicern if she's fucking with him. "You mean did I blow up the very place where I was tasked to reveal Voidmyth and its agenda to the public? No, I did not". Opposite of Fairweather, one of the two agents holds Ezekiel's Ether-slab with a searching look in his eyes, satisfied he looks up and gives her a nod. With a pained expression she clicks her tongue "So be it. Prepare for Brightway travel. We're going to the Nerve". A rush of adrenaline stirs in Ezekiel "Just like that Fairweather? I know we're not big on due process in these instances but at least give me the benefit of the doubt." The weight on Ezekiel intensifies, air beginning to warp around him. "Standard procedure for rogue Agents is interrogation and/or elimination via Seethe starving, you know this" She gives him a knowing look. "No-fucking-shit I know it, I invented that proceedure. I realize the whole 'engage with extreme prejudice' aspect of our job has its uses, but right now it's really getting in the way of the truth!" Ezekiel speaks through gritted teeth. "And it's biting me in the ass to boot - I have to be smart about this. A Shackling Manipulation affects one's Seethe reservoirs, making movement impossible, and a VoidMyth Agent having caused an MCA in the middle of a city is bound to be shown no mercy", Ezekiel thought as a quiet distress rose up through him. Out on the corner of his eye he strainingly spots the agent holding his Well-flask and rapier. "Haunt Agent Lloyd Haggs was present at Lucerne Uni as well, check Haunt Command logs, you'll see truth." Fairweather pauses and ponders for a moment, then proceeds "The truth can be many things Gloaman, my truth as of now is that you Ether-slab tells me you recently manipulated a HM Cluster at designation 5-3-8-5-0-Q-C, and that your Seethe supply corresponds with that." Her words are serious, and tell of betrayed trust and consequences. Commencing Brightway travel!" She won't see reason, Zeke thinks as a paramount focus fills him "So be it.." He mutters as he voids his body of Seethe in a crackling plume of dark-gold vapour that obfuscates the room. In a moment of disorientation and utter confusion, a deathly-looking Ezekiel sweeps Fairweather's legs and lunges at the agent with his rapier and flask.
Grey clouds dominate the sky over the Lucerne hotel "Just look at this place, Peter! Isn't it amazing? We're going to have such a great time here" An middle-aged woman says with glee. "Yes my dearest" Responds the weedy husband in a defeated voice struggling with luggage. "Never mind the bags Peter, the bellboy will get them, just remember to leave him a tip. Not like the last time when you-aiii!" She proceeds to scream as glass rains down from above, followed by an all-but-naked man furiously chugging on a flask and with sheathed rapier in hand. Ezekiel, covered in deep cuts, lands not-so-elegantly on the pavement, bearing no mind to the elderly couple. "I have to keep out of range of her Shackling '', he thinks as he slowly shifts from a skeletal visage to a resemblance of his old self. Without hesitation he breaks into a sprint, bobbing and weaving from zips of gunfire. Fairweather is quick on the pursuit "Engaging Rogue Whisper agent!" She yells as she jumps over the balcony, one agent behind her sliced from groin to sternum, the other raining down bright bullets on the fleeing Ezekiel. "I must gain enough ground to safely imbibe, I need to restore my Seethe reservoir! '' his mind races along with his heart. Nearing the great Lake Lucerne he looks up, realizing he doesn't have nearly enough Seethe to Brightway in this grey weather. "Feet, don't fail me now...", Zeke thinks to himself. Closing in with an outstretched arm and open hand, Faiweather's youth is a clear advantage to her in this hunt, an experienced Whisper agent to be sure, but not without her blind spots. Nearing the lake, the chase looks as though it will conclude on a humble pier and soon within range of Zeke, Fairweahter begins closing her fingers, preparing the Shackle Manipulation. As Ezekiel feels the familiar sensation of a heavy force in him, he leaps out from the pier, and with a complex gesture of his hand the water parts to form a crude tunnel, seemingly leading deep into the lake. Before she can finish her manipulation, he effortlessly disappears into the roaring waters, though not before shooting a last rude gesture at Fairweather. The frigid water closed behind Ezekiel, leaving Fairweather on the pier, pallid and out of breath, looking at the tumultuous water in wake of Zeke's escape. There she stood feeling foolish and outmaneuvered, but also somehow proud of her friend- did she let him go, or was he just that good? She would ponder this long, but now was not the time to dwell on it. She produces a small intricate bottle and imbibes from it, giving a quick snort and hack, putting it away to then retrieve her Ether-communicator "Whisper-agent Fairwether reporting. Failure to apprehend Whisper-agent Gloaman. Requesting Well-tracking. Subject is Seethe starved and wounded". She exhales heavily, trying to catch her breath, observing the traces of blood in the disrupted water trying to settle "Negative, do not set the Haunts on him, this is a Whisper matter, he deserves that much." A gale blows strands of hair into her eyes and mouth "Pft-Yes Sir, no Sir. At once, Sir. Whisper-agent Fairweather concluding." She holsters her Etherstone and turns heel, proceeding towards the Hotel, autumn thunder flashing in the west.