The Atlantis Case Part 1

Iskatonic International Institute of Inquiry
[Current Date]
[Recipient Name]
Esteemed Associate of the I.I.I.I. ;
We have looked into your inquiry into the location of the lost city of Atlantis, and have returned no concrete results. However, our antiquities records may have pertinent information as to where to obtain this knowledge. As the contents of the antiquities department are sensitive material, you are enjoined to visit the satellite office for an in person briefing on the matter. An unmarked black vehicle shall be sent within the hour.
- The Caretaker

When the old fashioned, type-written letter arrived in the brown envelop, one could almost wonder what archaic, outdated party would use snail mail. But, once read, the name of the institute rang many bells in the mind, but one could only be half-certain this was the first time they were going. Like Dejavu, there was something eerily familiar, like an old job you were going back to visit.
The car ride within the nondescript black Chevy Bel Air seemed much too short, but it was difficult to remember the trip; all that mattered was that the Institute offered its associates. Somehow, whenever visiting an Institute building, it was always night time. And it always rained. A downpour that necessitated the umbrella of an older gentleman in a suit, welcoming you with a warm smile and a snappy, British “good evening, ma’am” or “good evening, sir”.

The building was located at a nondescript side street, away from the hustle and bustle of the sky scrapers. An old brick and mortar building, much too dark to see how many storeys up it went. The oppressive gray rain of the sidewalk would soon be replaced by the comforting dryness of the lobby. It was a small reception area with green cushions, illuminated by the warm light of low hanging incandescent lamps, the wood flooring and paneling of art deco, and the anachronistic presence of rotary phones, typewriters and public ash trays. The inside felt like a piece of the past transported to the present.

Behind the reception desk was a large cork board with many a hand written or type written notes with dates and information, and appointments and significant landmarks. A portion of the wall was completely dominated by overflowingly full filing cabinets. A bookshelf with some trinkets and books was available for perusal. A nice cozy Persian rug added a splash of color and pattern to the otherwise drab lobby. Beyond the reception area, demarcated by three glass doors north, west and east, “store”, “offices up”, and “storage”.

The Institute man meanwhile, seemed to be moving all over the place, attending to five things at once. Putting away some messy files, rearranging file cabinets, and yet he manages to bring the guests a tray hot beverages to choose from, the recipient’s choice always present in the selection. “Dreadful weather tonight, But the others will be coming soon. How have you been?” He asked, warming the associate physically and mentally.

huh what an odd letter, people still use typewriters?   Jeannie stared at the odd letter was it for her daddy or mommy instead?  she was pretty sure it have to be someone that age to use such an old way of getting a message to someone

she poked it with a stick. then smelled it, then let her dogs smell it, she and her k9 friends were convinced it wasn't going to explode she opens it. well despite the mission-impossible vibes doesn't look like it'll self-destruct.  oh, a trip to a lost city how fun.

so the black vehicle showed up to take to meet this caretaker, well better than the crypt keeper she guessed maybe this guy was his nicer brother. when the mystery car took her to a creepy building on a night with an icky rainstorm she couldn't help but think someone was playing an elaborate Halloween prank on her.

the cheery butler guy and the inside of the building were nicer. actually, it kinda made her think of her house with daddy's research stuff lettered about. yeah it's a little drippy, so you must be the caretaker? ok, I guess kind of confused about what all this is about, but that does make it exciting.

she takes some hot chocolate from the tray of drinks he offered then watches the strange man going about wondering about the room, how does he keep up all those things is he a robot or something?
huh how'd she been what an odd thing for him to say she doesn't remember meeting him before, well he seemed friendly enough so she decided not to worry about it

others so is this like when the eccentric old rich guy gets a bunch of people together for some crazy expedition he's founding cause them guys got nothing better to do with their time and money? she wonders about who this person gathering them might be, the looks to the door curious about who the others might be. maybe some old friends, she did keep odd company that'd go for something like this. or some interesting new ones.

It was a sad fact of things that the world hadn't been built for people as big as ol' Finn. Even hunched down as he was, his nearly nine-foot frame had difficulty navigating the doorway. It took effort (and a few quiet curses) for Finn to get himself through the portal, but eventually he managed it. He closed the door daintily after he entered, holding the knob between his thumb and forefinger. He doffed his hat and greeted the people within the room, smiling broadly.

But being very careful not to show any teeth.

He held up a crushed and much abused letter written in that same archaic typeface. "Hello," Finn said, in his deep, deep voice. He smiled his strange smile down at Jeannie, then looked at the gaunt man and the offered beverages. He took one to be polite, though it seemed more apart of a child's tea set held in his massive hand.

___ had almost grown used to the atmosphere perpetuated by the time anomaly in this place. It was almost comforting, now that he’s been coming here for about a month- the pitter patter of the rain, the chilling breeze. It woke him up for the day like nothing else could, kept his mind sharp. With how slowly the rain falls to him, it’s almost beautiful- like shimmering, sparkling crystals suspended in midair. He shakes his umbrella as he gets inside the building, greets the receptionists as he walks through to the offices, and he gets greeted back. They don’t really call him any name in particular, just some sort of serial number: B145K. This was fine. The name he gave them was not actually his real one either.

According to his resume, he was Miguel ‘Simmons’, Cryptologist and Scientist Extraordinaire. It didn’t really matter if that was who he was, he could be an expert at whatever he needed. The only reason he wanted to work here was due to the close proximity to otherworldly relics and creatures- things with mechanics and functions that would revolutionize the world if they could be replicated to suit humanity’s purposes. Either way, he knew this place was dangerous. The other day he asked a co-worker why they still used typewriters. She explained that they tried getting newer computers but they just vanished from existence a day later. It was… odd.

 They didn’t really ask solid questions at his interview either- only questions like “how would you react if your office space suddenly became a worm-hole into another dimension” and “Do you have a trench coat and fedora? We use a dress code here so that a certain… anomaly doesn’t identify deviants of the time period”. Hell, they didn’t even bother to make a more thorough background check (but if he were to guess they likely had some method of knowing who was who without a resume), and yet here he was.

It was mostly grunt work, unfortunately. Paperwork that needed to be filled by hand, stamped, and/or typed from an archaic typewriter. They never seemed to replace the equipment that was already here, never needed to refill the typewriters with ink, and never needed to clean them either. It was like each day reset. It was a curious anomaly for sure, but one made public recently. What was annoying was the monotonous, boring repetition each day held.

They told him that he could work on a case file as long as he gave them a case number he wanted to work on… but each case varied from ‘minor obligatory memory wipes’ to ‘hiding a world-ending eldritch god to prevent mass panic’. He was told that he wasn’t allowed to touch the agency’s tech, and they refused to show him blueprints. It almost seemed like a bust of a job, but something curious caught his eye.

A case-number involving the lost city of Atlantis.

Bingo.

There’s been murmuring around the office about bringing in Atlantean tech to the building since it was technically old enough to… actually be used here. ‘Simmons’ was curious what it did and if he were to go along to the mission, he could finally get his hands on lost technology! All it took was a ton of research and a query to the mission administrators and he was good to go. Time to go on an adventure, time to finally work on something more interesting.

The dream

With a long week of work behind her, June found herself falling into a troubled sleep the back seat of the car. A dream of storms, a frothing, raging sea, of mighty waves pulling one away was not one that normally invoked fear in the undersea hero. But the fear was real and palpable, for the storm was relentless, destructive – June could feel herself sluggishly running through the streets as a gigantic tsunami came crashing down on the city, she lived in. She ran and ran, running towards a large building…

June stirred from her dream when the Caretaker tapped at her window. “Is everything alright, madame?” He asked, holding up an umbrella to escort Dragon Girl inside.

The Institute

The shopkeeper’s bell over the entrance rang a fourth time, signaling the last Associate arrival. Seven feet tall, striking heroic figure, known face; but no longer the tallest in tonight’s crowd. Finn took that title, so Dragon Girl settled for tallest female. For tonight’s ensemble she’d picked a snappy navy blue business coat and lady's hat, a tasteful skirt, flat heels.

“Good evening, miss Girl.” June had to stop and do a double take at the old British butler who simultaneously kept her identity on the down low yet make fun of her call sign. Maybe it was time to go and lose the Dragon Girl name? it was so… 90s teen superhero. She looked at the tray and spotted a nice ginger tea. Perfect for a rainy night. She picked it up and took a deep sip, before addressing the assembled fellows. “…Hello, are you all here looking for the lost city?”
The Caretaker paused awhile to let the gathered associates get acquainted. Once he had his time to speak, he cleared his throat and addressed them.
“They are, welcome to the Institute, everyone. It is my pleasure to receive your company here. I understand you are all looking for a very particular location… the fabled lost city… of Atlantis.”

The Caretaker picked up the handset of the desk’s antique, gold trimmed and black rotary phone, and started dialing. A voice on the other side was slightly audible, before he responded. “Yes, it’s the care taker. They’re all here. Please send the document now.”

The fellow opened the door to the antique shop and threw up a circuit breaker, lighting up the tightly packed shelves, items reaching the ceiling, leaving only narrow, claustrophobic aisles between them. Over three quarters of the inventory were still in boxes, and it seemed as though it would have taken a speedster to unpack it all.

“This way please. The tubes are inconveniently placed at the back of the shop. Look, don’t touch.” The Caretaker gestured them to follow him, shooting Jeannie in particular a glance. The shop was most inconvenient and uncomfortable to pass through, especially those distracted by curios and antiques; June herself stopped a few times to glance at some choice golden time pieces and statues.

The Tubes, as it turns out, was a set of antiquated pneumatic tubes used to physically transport objects in canisters. A satisfying vacuum sound preceded the arrival of a canister, and it arrived with a thump as it landed on the rubber stopper. The Caretaker opened the canister and glanced at the paper, then handed it to the group. “Ah here we go. Ah… naturally, encrypted, for associate eyes only.”

Jeannie got excited when she saw Finn he was the biggest guy she had seen.  she smiled and looked up at him. hello up there mister giant! gee you sure are big, what do you eat to get so big? can I ride on your shoulders? that would be fun then I can be big too! are you from some land of giants?

Finn gets rescued from Jeannie's curiosity and endless questions briefly when the next guest arrived, if he was the biggest man she'd seen this was the biggest lady.

another giant? this time a girly giant! hello miss giant. huh did I miss a you must be this tall for the adventure sign? Jeannie scratches her head thinking about it. or am I here in case we need someone to climb in an air vent or some other small space?

so are you like bother and sister giants?  that's neat a whole giant family, hate seeing the food bill you have a thanksgiving though.

she then notices something familiar about the giant lady. she goes over and smells around her. you smell kinda like the rock lady! are you a dragon too? cause I meet this one lady who could turn into a dragon. Jeannie jumps around excited with an idea she had.   you're bigger than her as a person though so you'd be a super giant dragon right?  Jeannie stretches out her arms to show how big. so do dragons disguise themselves as people or can people turn into dragons? I want to be a big pink one with sparkly wings!

she runs around the room pretending to fly. the caretaker guy then had them follow him, to a room with shiny tubes. she wonders if he was a wizard that could read minds cause he looked right at her when he said no touching.

aww that's no fun. Jeannie puts her hands in her pockets as her mommy told her to at stores with fragile expensive stuff to keep from touching.  she does look at stuff as they went trying not to fall too far behind. she found the tube really neat that was neat do it again! hey, do you guys got a shrink ray here with all your stuff? then we can fit in a tube and ride it like a roller coaster! zoom zoom

It was only an outpost, but he noted how eerily close this place was to the actual headquarters, from the weather to the time- it was dark out even when it should have been the middle of the day… So many similar things, which is why he was off-put by how different ‘The Caretaker’ was from where he was stationed.

Those were his thoughts as he was handed the envelope. Standing quietly with the rest of the personnel, he doubted this ragtag group would have thought that he was coming with them.

As much as he wanted to smirk, he kept character. His eyes widened as he received the envelope, this was his first mission as a newbie after all. *for me?* His eyes asked. He took it, and after quickly scanning through the contents he moved his eyes back to the page, eyes fixated on each word a few moments at a time to give off the impression he was reading it at a normal human pace. It took a bit of work but he finally put it away, having already deciphered it when he was staring at the first word.

Expertise:

Cryptology
Ancient language- Ancient Greek
Ancient History- geography
Structural architecture
Archeology
Kusari Fundo
Acting
Handheld Firearms
Emergency Medicine
Brazilian Jujitsu

The note said the following:
opluxbpfcs cwhfgxuhl cffxmwu ixb yxllpesh ubcgh ycbuwhbl xi cuscwupl uoxmjo whcbsn css cbh rwxvw txghbw sxfcupxwl cwg ocah wx cbfohxsxjpfcs lpuhl hdfhyu ixb cwfphwu cdmt ghhy pw uoh lcocbc, fxxbgpwcuhl cbh cl ixssxvl: Xwh lpd y hpjou uobhh lhahw ixmb ixmb uvx, uobhh xwh y lhahw xwh ipah xwh ixmb lpd

He figured it out quickly through likely word combinations with character length, assuming of course the words were in English due to a lack of certain characters found in other languages. It was a Caesar encryption, but the keyword and spacing… were irregular. ‘cefghijopzrstwxyqblumavdnk’ isn’t a normal keyword at all, so he crunched the numbers in his head about the pattern… it was a double encryption, with 2 keywords and 2 alternate spacing. Blank, 2. Slate, 5. Not only did they know his true age, but they know the alias he has never said out loud, even to himself. They must be using some sort of telepathy. Something to address later though.

16.837442, 31.715146

That’s definitely the Saharan Desert alright, although he finds it odd that the coordinates are there, seeing as ancient Axum was known to be situated in Ethiopia- there are sites for archeology situated there in Ethiopia that had already discovered Ascian pottery and architecture, but he suspects that this story may be more than meets the eye. Either that, of they’re on a wild goose chase, which he doubts the agency would do to test new recruits, seeing as... Jeannie was here of all people.

He remembers seeing her on television multiple times when news helicopters managed to get a glimpse of her and her exploits. She always seemed to be everywhere- it was impossible not to acknowledge her existence. He reaches out his hand to her to shake her hand, envelope tucked into his trenchcoat. He has to maintain this awkward, studious persona for the majority of the trip, but it’ll be manageable- it's just a common form of method acting.

“H-hi, I’m… Agent Simmons. I’m a fan of your work.”
After pleasantries had been made with each of the people in the party (with the other 2 looming over him with their drastic difference in height), He clears his throat and faces the caretaker.

“Coordinates have been properly received. I believe we will be ready for deployment once we have the proper equipment. Do you have anything for the occasion?”

Though Finn had seen had done many things in his time, this room was something else.  Faith, but they could have torn the place straight from some old noir or horror film.  He was expecting some sort of omnipresent monologue to begin when the world's first extrovert made her presence known.

Now, Finn had taken hits before.  Claws and bullets and worst besides.  He had once been caught on the edge of a nuclear detonation and still lived to not talk about it.  Finn possessed the opinion he was moderately tough.

Yet the force of Jeannie's overwhelming enthusiasm for his gargantuan self was like nothing he had experienced before.  Not naturally agoraphobic, the chimeric champion was at a loss to how to respond to her barrage of questions.  Finn thought he might be able to stretch out his hand and lean against the force of her personality, it was so intense.  

Just went to prove that no matter how tough you thought you were, there was always something that could floor you.  Finn grinned to himself and shook his head, his tusks showing over the edge of his lip only making the expression more pronounced.  

His attention finally shifted away from the social goliath he had been confronted with, and considered the other newcomers to the room.  The tall woman and average looking man.  Well, that was somewhat insulting.  The man was good-looking in his way, well made and trim.  He had a cunning look about him; eyes never seeming to be quite at rest.  

And Simmons was quite the actor, if Finn was to judge.

Before he had become a cross between a Smithsonian exhibit and a walking mountain, Cassowary Finn had dreams of the stage.  He gauged himself a fair performer, but this man could give lessons. Yet Finn could smell his pheromones and hear steady, confident rhythm of his heart.  

It was stab in the dark, but Finnegan guessed him to be one of those omni-competent sorts one ran into in this line of work. The metahuman world was rife with polymaths, and the ones that were the least outwardly threatening were often the most dangerous.  Finn scratched his jaw with his vestigial talons, before breaking off his considering look.  

And there was June, of course, who needed no introduction.  She was practically the poster child of upright and moral metas striving to make the world a better place.  Finn would confess that he felt a little starstruck just to look at her.  She was a living legend, and no mistake.  He had an autograph book in his back pocket and was tempted to ask for hers.  

Like Simmons, he could nothing but a steady beat from June.  Her scent profile was also off, but that reflected her nature rather than any pheromone.  It was almost reptilian, but the notes were different.  Something to consider.

Finn had to cover his nose when the room with the pneumatics was reached.  The building possessed several strange odors Finn had never scented before, but there was something particularly odd about these.  It was coming from the compressed air or gas used to propel the containers.  It smelt almost...eldritch?  

Shrugging, Finn merely kept his hand over his nose and waited until his nose adapted and for the gentleman to respond to Simmons.

Conversations

June was more polite and didn’t mention anything about picking up her soon to be companions’ scents, or their electrical signals. Confident people one and all, not a single out of place heartbeat.

“I’m going to take a wild guess, that each of us has something to bring to the table and…” June took a deep breath as Jeannie unloaded on her. She recognized her from the Boston incident debriefings, as having worked with Sage and the renegade witch Dabbler, in a beneficial role no less, something about wiping out a hive of wasp people. She was unable to get a word in when she shared her very apt description of their mutual acquaintance. “…Thanks! I’ve heard about you too. From Boston. Yes, Sage is my… cousin.” June paused at the word, but decided it made explaining things much easier. June didn’t want to bring down her positive vibe, but the bitter truth was always better than a sweet lie. “Sorry you have to be born a half dragon to turn into one… but I’m sure you’ve got other talents!”

She took stock of Finn, quite franky being surprised to see someone bigger than her. He seemed to be taking stock of the company without saying a word. When June caught his gaze, she offered a shake. “Guess we’re the muscle for the group. Dragon Girl.” She introduced herself, and decided to give him some tough love, putting the dragon squeeze when he took the handshake, seeing the extent of his ability.

Finally, she looked at Agent Simmons. There was something about the specialist, but June was not quite as perceptive in the arts of espionage. She merely took him as he presented himself. “So, coordinates you say? Where are we off to?” she asked plainly, that pragmatic and to the point nature wanting to achieve the objective.

A second wooshing sound came from the pneumatic tube, and a second container would arrive. The Caretaker once again opens it for the group and hands it to Slate, who seems to be the group’s designated expert. “A sextant, and a book of ancient languages… My, I do believe some archeology will be in play soon.” The Caretaker paused, ensuring the items were handed over properly. "The Institute has made new acquaintances recently. Our contact should be on their way..."

The Shadow Men

Outside the IIII building, a few cars hand stopped and parked in the street, and from each car emerged several of them. Even in the illumination of the street lamps they were more shadowy silhouettes than true living things. Sinister eyes was filled with murderous intent, but their footsteps were cold and silent. The first group go in by the entrance, quietly entering, quietly making their way to the staircase.

Once the first group were in place, the second group spread out and stand a few paces apart, drawing the outline of some submachine gun. They waited for the signal.

Inside the antique store, the conversation was abruptly interrupted, as the lights immediately went out, leaving only the car headlights outside illuminating the room. There was but a small handful seconds, before the shadowy figures outside let loose with their tommy guns, spewing dozens of bullets into the room; the tall glass windows shattered, and the antique shelves were torn asunder, but given the forces that were in play here at the Institute, these rounds were for all purposes, mundane .45 acp; heavy in their impact, but unable to penetrate either metal or the thick heavy crates. Anything else was ripped to pieces.

oh sage is your cousin. that makes sense, well I hope she's doing well. I haven't seen her since the buggy mess. Now that I think about it she told me the same thing when I asked her about teaching me the dragon thing.  must have slipped my mind. we were fighting an army of giant wasps at the time so might have had a lot on my mind.

she was excited when Agent Simmons. mentioned being a fan. yay a fan! that's neat want an autograph? maybe we can take a nice picture together when we find Atlantis so you'll have something nice to remember our adventure by.

she watched as the tube did its swish thing and the old guy and the agent talked about some book thingy. Jeannie was amused by the sights and sounds of the odd house.  then she familiar sound that's never good if it's what she thought it was and her hearing was usually never wrong.

clicky like that's bad, everybody gets down! Worrying he might have trouble moving out of the way. she grabs the caretaker as she dives to the floor dragging the old man as gently as possible with her. bullets fly by tearing up the room.

yup guns cocking and lots of them. sometimes it sucks to be right.  hopefully, the others reacted to her warning in time. even though it wouldn't surprise her if being a dragon and an ogre? yeah, Finn had a Shrek vibe about him so she'll go with ogre tell he says otherwise, might make them bulletproof.

she maneuvers her and the caretaker behind a large metal box that seemed well enough to hide behind.  drawing her pistol and waiting for a  break in the barrage before peaking to get a look at their attackers. should need to reload soon the way they were spraying bullets.

she hoped maybe the two giants had giant weapons to match feeling outgunned by what sounded like multiple machine guns. well, judging by the lights going out she did have a surprise in store for them. it wouldn't give the attackers an advantage they probably hoped to gain as she could see just fine in the dark.

everyone ok? looks like we got some uninvited guests to deal with.
Jeannie waits for a response from her companions wanting to know if they were ok and where they were not wanting them to get caught between her and the attackers when she gets a chance to return fire.

Perhaps it was a mistake for Finn to be so quiet, but at least he had precedent. It was in his nature to step aside and let the more bright and brilliant stars shine while he did the necessary work behind the curtain. Of course, those curtains were by necessity tall and girthy, but this life led to a lot of stages like that. He gave the Dragon Girl a grin (no teeth) and shook her hand in turn. "Finn," he said, giving her hand a single, firm shake. He ignored the increasing pressure on his hand, instead simply keeping his own pleasant and unthreatening. He wasn't here to make enemies or compare cock sizes.

He pushed the pink sunglasses up his nose, trying to hide his unsettling eyes. He stood quietly while logistics were discussed, trying to absorb as much as possible and collect questions for the inevitable Q&A session. Finn knew he was annoying during these, but he could never wrap his head around a project until he needled it to death.

His concentration was interrupted a moment later as he heard several cars approach and suddenly turn off. No shriek of tires on asphalt, no angry voices. His head turned and his eyes narrowed under those rose-colored glasses of his. Finn took off the bulky and frankly ridiculous pair of headphones he sported, revealing a pair of pointed ears, one noticeably placed higher on his head than the other.

"I think..." was all he got out before the bright headlamps of the vehicles stole his sight. Blindly, he attempted to put himself in as much of the window as possible before the expected barrage of bullets came.

He had no doubt Simmons and Jeannie had a method for avoiding something like this, but they hadn't gone over their capabilities yet. What if it had been an oversight in Simmons' plans or Jeannie had some weird vulnerability to lead? He'd heard of stranger weaknesses. So, he acted to save the others.

'Bullet sponge' was an apt description of what Finn tried to do. Each round he attempted to soak up with his sheer mass. Yet, his durability did not come from some metallic shell or magical armor. The bullets penetrated and went deep. He felt them pierce his heart, his lung, his brain. Yet they did not exit, the hail of gunfire contained his bulk.

For you see, Finn did not just have one lung, or even one heart. And while he did have one brain, the temporary loss of his ability to do algebra wasn't pertinent to his current troubles.

Finn coughed up a gout of dark blood, then wiped it on his sleeve. He doffed his cap, which had survived the barrage miraculously undamaged, and placed it on the ruins of a coffee table. Finn turned his head to the side, causing a loud crack to sound as he stepped outside.

"And it is a pleasant evening I'm wishing you as well, gentlemen," Finn said, his voice deep and pleasant and completely at odds with his monstrous mien. And Finn strode toward them.

Pleasantries (summary of past posts’ analysis):

Jeannie’s eyes lit up with excitement when he mentioned she was a fan. She practically leaped from where she was to grab something.

“Yay, a fan! That’s neat - want an autograph? Maybe we can take a nice picture together when we find Atlantis so you'll have something nice to remember our adventure by.”

Her seemingly boundless energy and comparatively small physique contrasted drastically with the almost still, huge, lumbering beast of a man that was wearing a coat in a size that would be impossible to find in any store. Huh. Must be tailor-made for his figure. The man seemed to take deep breaths, taking his time to assess the world around him as if he could inhale the world through his nostrils. His ears twitched about from the slightest noise, something easy to miss from how quickly it happened- the fedora really made his ears stand out that much more though.

Seeing Jeannie switch her focus, the tall woman approaches the man and they shake hands. It was a casual greeting- they weren’t gripping tightly to gauge strength at all (as might be expected from such large people). She was Dragon Girl, a hero whose publicity was been quite… splashy. Finn on the other hand, Simmons only remembered from a viral video that circulated a few years ago about something that would best never be mentioned. Simmons could guess he usually eats exotic animals- seeing he ate a rhino without it being public knowledge, but the question was ‘why?’. Lots of fun little puzzles to solve later.

He addressed Jeannie a moment after, moving his hands down, palms open as if to say ‘calm down, not right now’.

“That would be nice, but I believe the I.I.I.I. has a policy against taking pictures inside the building premises. We should wait until we get a nice view- I’m thinking once we get to where we’re headed. How’s that sound?”

Not-so-pleasantries (after-past post: action).

After he was handed the sextant and book, he was tempted to just pry it open and flip through it for the sake of keeping the information safe in his head, but decided against it for two reasons:

1. It would be strange to flip through the book instead of skim through it, but he didn’t have time to pretend to read it as fast as a regular person right at that moment.

2. Something was off. It doesn't feel safe.

He was clued in with the behavior of all three of his future partners. Nothing was said at that moment, but there was a split second pause- something that they must be noticing that he does not. He looks at the ears of Finn and notes their position. Based on the curvature of the ear- and assuming the building’s layout is similar to that of the base he works at (and using the basics he knows of dolphin sonar), the focal point of the sound is most likely to be coming from right outside the building.

Jeannie rushes to The Caretaker as she starts shouting. It’s always so slow to him- speech. He usually resorts to guessing what most people will say so he doesn’t get frustrated most of the time. “Clicky... like…” He won’t take any chances by wasting time to hear the rest. As the team starts shifting in slow motion, he begins shoving his equipment into the trench coat and crouches into some sort of cover. Even crouching is like a slow elevator ride, so on the way down he takes his time to think. “that’s… bad…”

“everybody…” There are no reliable reflections this close to the ground, so he pulls out the 2 foot staff and extends it to its full length to knock over a desk. The desks here are extremely reflective and he’s angled it so that he can see the entrance of the building once it hits the ground. “get….”

The images he sees are a bit odd. Pitch black people. No face, no features, nothing- like God took a pair of scissors and cut holes where people were supposed to be. Their shadows faced the opposite direction they normally would if this was the result of a silhouette, so he had the impression these were otherworldy beings of some sort. “down!”
As a result, he couldn’t tell what they were holding. Not until they began firing moments later.

Simmons took out a handgun from another pocket. He suspected that it was possible the shadow beings couldn’t be harmed, but he also doubted the guns they held were an extension of themselves. The bullets they left in furniture seemed tangible, and any newer gun models would likely vanish before the end of the hour due to the time anomaly here, so they must have been given those guns by some other source. The firing made little flashes of light, enough to see the shadows of the weapons themselves. From it, he could figure out the shapes of the guns they held.

It was some sort of automatic, two-handed firearm. While he wasn’t currently an expert on those weapons, he did remember to take a look at how handgun models changed over the decades. These guns were reminiscent of the 1920s, and so they must be Tommy guns since those were the only accessible handheld automatic firearms at that time. The size of the magazines are large enough to fit… 200 rounds each (circular disk) so they’d likely run out of ammunition in 20 seconds at most. Unfortunately, he can’t wait that long- his reflective table is riddled with bullets and Finn has been putting himself between the bullets and the rest of the crew.

Finn wades through the ensemble. Bullets tear through thick muscles and yet, like a machine he just takes it all. Simmons is unsure whether there will be a Finn left by the time they run out of ammunition, and seeing as he might be helpful for the mission, Simmons gets into action. He already had a good grasp as to where the guns were, and now he had an opening. Since Finn has been drawing most of the fire, Simmons lifts his firearm above his cover to fire 2 shots per gun, aimed at the barrels on each.

Firing the gun felt like firing an extension of himself. He could practically visualize each bullet that left it as they moved through the air, most meeting their marks. At least, he could guess as much. The bullet-riddled desk is no longer able to give him a visual because it’s been reduced to mulch… but he didn’t need to poke his head through to look since he already remembered where to shoot. The only issue came from if they moved while he was aiming, which was a quite a few. The ones he did manage to hit should effectively be left with a useless hunk of metal for a gun.

It looks like he won’t be flying under the radar for this mission after all. Oh well.

Once the bullets started flying, the room started get ripped apart, and the team started reacting, June took a moment to assess the situation- Jeannie and Simmons were taking cover with the Caretaker, Simmons having the presence of mind to attempt to shoot back even with bullets flying overhead. Impressively, the bullets immediately connected with the shadow men’s weapons, and they predictably flinched in pain. Two gunmen who weren’t firing meant the bullet rain was cut in half in volume.
Meanwhile, the big one interposed himself between the danger and the team. The bullets didn’t bounce off Finn. The man took the bullets to the flesh, burying deep into him. June grimaced, though seeing he was still moving towards the hail of gunfire meant he was going to be alright.
When she realized the enemy weren’t reloading when they should – or those were really deep magazines - that was when June made her move. Bursting out of her corner with a handful of strong, wide gaits, and June was on the street. The bullets bounce off June, though she could feel the dulled impact of the many, many .45 rounds; another few steps and June’s hands were on the weapon. She pried the presumed submachine gun out of his hands, a standard super powered disarm she used against armed, baseline human enemies, but these were anything but human.

Instead of the familiar feel of mangled metal, June felt like she tore some cold, wet, semi-liquid substance; These were not men at all but truly seemingly made of shadow-stuff. Now up close, they let out an alien cry of pain, a sound no human vocal cords could produce. The discovery was very helpful for June’s demeanor. “They’re not human! Take them down hard!” she shouted, letting loose with a roundhouse kick to a spinning back kick, turning the two shadow men in her reach into a smear on the wall, and broken in half, respectively.

June could barely feel an electrical signal from them- they were cold, barely alive. And now, she sensed more shadow men were coming out from the alleyways. They’d lured them out from their secure place.

The Shadow Men near Finn moved unnaturally, seemingly gliding in perfect silence, and only mimicking the cadence of footsteps. Their tommy guns, which Slate had shot apart, reformed into small pistols, though the markedly lower rate of fire did not discourage them from trying to bring him down.

The Knife in the Back
As the team sent to distract the Associates in the antiques shop were dealt with, a second, more covert team storm the entrance lobby and proceed directly to the staircase. Four of them, more of the same shadow men. They reached the lowest chamber that contained a certain room, containing a certain indescribable clockwork and piston driven device, and unloaded their shadowy firearms into it, destroying it, lifting the Institute Outpost’s defense.
As the machine sputtered and died, the reality altering field that served as the Institute’s defense and camouflage receded, and the building reverted more into modern reality. The building was located in a run-down part of the city, long abandoned but still having some foot traffic. The few bystanders there were, were very suddenly and visibly confused by the carnage.

The building itself quickly lost its art deco character, reverting to a dull gray box of modernism. What was a nostalgic office from the 20s-50s era devolved into its dilapidated, late 90s cubicle office self. Cheap plastic furniture and appliances replaced their classier counterparts, and only the Caretaker himself seemed unchanged, though, much less colorful. Their work done; they quickly went upstairs to catch the Associates in a pincer maneuver.

Antique Shop

More insidious though, was the shadow men themselves that remained, who transformed – they grew larger, and gained more limbs – standard, human level fire arms were now replaced with large claws, while two human like eyes were replaced with the many eyes of some kind of insect. They retained their Shadowy nature but now alien in aspect, utterly not of this world nor even of this reality… and they eyed Jeannie and Slate, as well as the Caretaker, exposed as the bruisers were outside dealing with their distraction. The Shadow creatures move in, intent on securing the associates’ possessions.

huh, Finn looked ok, he was still moving anyway. Jeanie was worried he hadn't heard her warning in time to move. but it seemed like he planned on getting hit to protect the others how sweet of him guess his a big softy. he must be pretty strong to act as a wall.

the agent man did some fancy shooting to disarm some of their strange attackers. whatever there were nice to know shooting them seems to work

she did find them pretty odd as they didn't seem to have a smell or make many sounds. the dragon lady says something about their not being human and to take them down before joining Finn outside the building. luckily they seemed not too hard to deal with as the dragon lady smashed them into the wall with a splat.  right guesses that leave her and Mr. agent to deal with the ones inside.ok boss lady dragon

she turns to see that the shadows mushed together into a big one. no fair that's cheating and somewhat gross,  she then looks at the caretaker don't suppose there's like some hidden weapons stash in here? I might need a bigger gun for that.   Jeannie decides to lure it away from the caretaker as it is easy for the monsters to get him. plus then she and the agent man can surround it if she leads it to the center of the room.

leaping from behind the crate she and the caretaker were hiding and landed on one of the rolly office chairs and rides it crossed the room shooting at the shadow monster as she goes. eat this ugly!  now as long as she doesn't run out of bullets her plan seemed to be working, it would be nice if the monsters had heath bars like in games so I know how many times I need to shoot it.

When Finn's powers first manifested, he had hated them with every fiber of his being. Unknown and uncontrolled, the flesh of every creature he ate changed him in countless ways. By the time he got a handle on it, channeled his terrible gift into something to help people, it had changed him irrevocably.

It was that aspect of his powers Finn hated most. The wild, mutagenic need his body had to strip whatever useful traits from the genetics of whatever animal protein he ingested and slap it on to him like the world's worst Mr. Potato Head.  It was terrifying and strange and deeply unsettling on both a physical and spiritual level.

But at least, Finn would admit grudgingly, it was thorough.

For while Finn could be overwhelmed by stimulus, or be brought down by excessive damage, the changes in his body were wholly him when they manifested. They were complete in the way that only millennia of the heartless culling of natural selection could produce.

So when he began to heal, the bullets did not take up residence inside him.  Instead, the furrows carved by the slugs were pushed out like some obscene plug.  Within his torso, destroyed organs were supported by redundant backups, kept him functional.

Finn spit up a mouth full of blood.  His instincts were screaming at him.  Something was wrong; something was off.  So instead of charging in, Finn took his time and uprooted a nearby parking meter with a great tug, turning it into a makeshift club.  

Finn looked over his shoulder and gave Simmons a tusky grin and a thumb's up.  "Thanks," he said, and then coughed a little.  That had been a startling displace of pistol work, and no mistake.  Finn felt like a bit of a fifth wheel now, he would admit sheepishly.  That kid was going places.  Probably be up there with the greats someday.  Or, well, if he wanted to be.  He did seem to want to keep things on the downlow.

Not to mention June.  Holy Lord in Heaven, but that woman could move.  There was something about the way her blows flowed so fluidly through each other.  It was like watching a painting; not a movie, but like a work of art brought to life.  Finn chuckled to himself and shook his head.  "Definitely a fifth wheel," he said, sweeping the parking meter through the shadowy figures.  

Something didn't add up, he thought.  That itch in the back of his head was still bothering him.  June was fine, the Wunderkind was fine, Miss Jeannie was safe with the Caretaker...

And that's when his ears picked up the sound of gunfire, and the words Jeannie had spoken just before.  "I might need a bigger gun for that."

Finn turned back to the building then, one of the shadow men taking the opportunity to slash at his exposed back.  Finn gave him the courtesy of his elbow for his moxie.  It was a feint.  Jeannie was in trouble.

"Simmons!"  Finn roared, "Mind your head!"  

Finn had feasted on owls; it was what caused the strange lopsided nature of his ears.  An owl could pinpoint mice buried and dirt with their hearing.  Typically, Finn used this for rescue work.  Today, he used it to pinpoint a monster.

Finn heaved up that meter like a great javelin.  He set his feet and heaved, every muscle on his nine-foot frame contorted to give it power.  The missile pierced three walls and slammed into Jeannie's attacker, skewering it in the side.  Whether or not that made no never mind was to be seen.