2020-03-29 - I Predict A Riot

Byron's had a hell of a day yesterday and he was still recovering from that ordeal. While he had showered and changed since the incident, his body still felt battered and his emotions drained. He'd been at the Harbor Mist Pawnshop tending to Lilith all through the night and into today, so though he may look nice and fresh, he also looked weary. Instead of his business attire, he's dressed in a black turtleneck sweater and a pair of jeans and Timberland boots. His hair isn't styled, the edges falling into his eyes.

Lilith was resting in her own bed today when Byron feels that uneasy sensation creeping over him. He was standing by her bedside, keeping watch, as he tried to get into contact with someone who could heal /her/. It only took one moment of reprieve for him to shut his eyes in rest, in an attempt to quell that swell of tumultuous emotion washing over him.

When they are opened, he finds himself in a strange place. One without Lilith as far as he could tell. All he can do is shake his head in frustration, but thank God that Lilith wasn't here with him too. So what now? Scanning his surroundings, he gets a sense of the turmoil felt all around him, though his eyes narrow sharply on spotting something oddly familiar: Those mechanical guards, especially that wasp. "Great." He mutters in resignation beneath his breath. Right now, he tries to move out of the way and blend in with the crowd or at least do his best to not stand out.

Itzhak finds himself standing in the middle of the crowd, taller than many and not as tall as some. He's, uh, he's dressed kinda funny, wearing black lambskin jeans that are skin tight, and...that's all, actually, that's all he's wearing. Except for shimmery gold nail polish and shimmery gold eyeshadow and some dramatic black eyeliner, which is kinda smudged. What the hell has he been doing? He looks around, eyes wide (super obvious because of the eyeliner), clocking the mechataurs and the wasp people and most of all, the humming of angry people, ready to explode. He knows this feeling. He's been in this situation before, and it makes his hair stand on end.

One of those dreams again for Devlin, * Damn... what market place is this again? * goes through his mind. Yeah, he sticks out big time.. Klay Beret, desert camo's that are dusty, full medic's pack on his back, his face covered by goggles and a desert camo bandana over his nose and mouth. He looks at his hands for a moment and sees the old familar pair of tan driver's gloves on his hands. In Arabic, he asks to himself.. "Where am I?" as he looks about for the grunts he should be with. Those that know patches would see the Airborne tab over the circled AA patch on both shoulders, staff sergeant's rank shown, Combat Medic's Badge, and of course, Jump Wings on his uniform.

Is this real life? It very well could be. Look sometimes sleep is hard and sometimes you work at a dispensary and are roommate to the city's least likely well-connected drug dealer and come up with your own solutions. Something has got to keep the static down and for absolutely no good reason it's a difficult time.

Here he is floating ; at least proverbially. He'swearing precisely what he fell asleep in though hell if he can even remember what that was. Where was he? No matter. Rubbing one side of his face and his hair sticking up a bit on one side and safety goggles on top of his head he tries to figure out where the fuck he is. "Itzil?..." He makes the sign for where and boggles to him, "When I get to Disneyland?"

It's really not been a good week for Vyv. The first time a dream's actually wounded him, another one just yesterday, and maybe worst for a pastry chef, he still can't taste sweetness and what if that doesn't come back? He has perhaps been working on something in that area, as he's not wearing the jacket portion of his suit, and does have his sleeves neatly rolled up and an apron on.

And now, suddenly, here he is in the wrong world again, and it's getting emotions all over him. ...those aren't his, right? "Oh, lovely!" he mutters to absolutely no one as he looks around, "Just how I was aiming to spend the evening; shall I just clear a few hours every second day for this bollocks now?" There are a few familiar faces, which is relatively positive in the case of the other Gray Harborites. Less so with the robot enforcers. "Hello," he greets the former few, moving over their way. "Nice day for it, mm?" No.

As he makes his way through the tense crowd, Byron spots a familiar face here and there, even if Itzhak's appearance makes him do a double take. If that is even him! There's only one way to find out, so he navigates his way in the guy's direction. "Is that you...Rosencrantz?" Itzhak can probably see the confusion in Thorne's dark eyes as he looks Itzhak over with an arch of a brow before continuing to survey the area. "Taken from the Firefly?" He asks, his eyes still looking around. He's talking the Nightclub and not the Forest! He notices some kid lingering nearby, but he doesn't really know the guy. He also spots Devlin, who with the gear, he's not sure exactly who is wearing it. But it's familiar enough. "Heads up, I think, some of those tin can guards may be heading our way." He says to whoever is nearby to hear him, though he keeps his tone hushed.

Then the pastry chef shows up, which reminds Byron of just how terrible the both of their days was the day before. "Might want to get a move on. Don't ask me to where either."

Itzhak calls, "Thorne," to Byron, uncaring of what kind of profile the man wants to achieve. He weaves through the crowd towards Grant. "Chef. Over here, guys." He doesn't know the guy in the fatigues, but he waves him over too. He's on high alert, the sense of impending danger really making him tense. Even though he looks like he just got tossed out of a very lively party. "Them things," he mutters, pointing at the staves wielded by the guards, "they shock ya, the guns too." Then he wrinkles his nose at Byron, turning red. "Noneya. Just, just let's get outta here." THEN the person in the beautiful robe acts like he belongs to Byron and he turns a glare on them. "Seriously? ...Hey, what's going on?"

Ah.. a familiar face persay.. Devlin's Landlord.. well familiar from when the lease was signed that is. He keeps very aware of himself and surroundings as the tension in the air is easy to feel. Yet, some how Devlin manages to walk towards Bryon while giving the impression of being relaxed. At the sound of the compliant about credentials, his head turns for a moment before returning towards Bryon. "Mr. Thorne?" He slides down the bandana over his nose and mouth followed by raising his goggles. "This is not like anything I saw on deployments.. and yet.. feels like it. What is going on?" Then seeing Vyv, "Vyv.. that's your name, right? How about you? Any clues? Besides.. stirred fried poed people."

Grant shuffles like he does. Everyone in the city can spot him even if they don't know him. Classification: graffiti artist, mostly harmless. Rubbing at his eye he gives his hand a tip of a wave as Devlin comes over. Byron he misses because he is focused on something else entirely. "What's going on? I dunno ask that buggy duder being hassled by the fuzz, man." He yawns and points up there but his attention flips around He looks at Vyv top down and back again and offers a shadow of sympathy. "Still workin on it huh?" and there's that fancy dude. He looks around curious, "Eleanor's not here? Weird."

Vyv gets close enough to get a proper look at the others, and brows go up. At Itzhak, first, who gets an up-and-down glance that's faintly amused, which at least counts as a brief improvement in mood. "Well, you look like you were having more fun," he remarks, adding as he takes in Devlin's outfit, "You don't." Grant gets a return up-and-down look and an arched brow of his very own, the chef's gaze pausing on his hair. "You look like you've had half a spat with an electric socket," he informs the younger man, reaching over to flick an errant lock of hair, and then sighs. "Yes. Still working on it."

A glance around at the questions. "I've seen these guards before. The robot centaurs and wasps." He looks to Byron, "That licensing office. There weren't nearly so many there, though. Do you think it's just normal here? Or are they expecting something?" The way it feels here, the way he feels here, has him on edge.

With the figure in the robe approaching, Byron's gaze catches sight of them at first glance, noting that the person was actually approaching them. Despite his wariness, he wears a look of indifference on his face, though he will study the figure with the rose skin in full once they've come in close. "Any second for what?" He asks, letting his gaze roam once more and almost misses the look that the robed figure gives Itzhak, but when the question is asked, his brow knits in more confusion, "Mi--?" 'Mine', he's about to ask, but simply shrugs, "Sure." Followed by a lowly muttered, "whatever." Sometimes it's better to just play along.

"Rosencrantz is right. Those things," He nods towards one of the nearest mechanical guards within view, "Can really fuck you up. But I'm sure everyone already knows to try avoid them and anything they toss out at us." Vyv echoes some of this, or at least, brings up that yes, they've encountered those things before. "Right. The licensing office." He's still annoyed by that.

When Devlin joins the fray, Byron turns to check to see who the guy is. He was a familiar face after all, well once he removed his goggles and bandana mask. When the McCloud asks 'what's going on', Byron can only state with a heavy breath, "Something tells me that we're going to find out really soon." On hearing Eleanor's name, however, he turns towards Grant, the kid. "Eleanor from Espresso Yourself? Why would she be here?" However, to Vyv's question, all he will say is, "Something tells me that one of those things will stop right in front of us and ask for our documents, which I don't think any of us have, and all hell will break loose. That's what I think."

Itzhak eyes the weapon thus revealed. "Nice. You got an extra one of those?" His attention is drawn by the words 'it says what we say it says'. Oh, does he know THAT one, and he doesn't like it at all. "How about you honor what your own goddamn paper says!" he barks back at whoever said that, who he's not sure he can see.

Nothing like that internal cringe you get when you hear something like Itzhak barks out to the guards and then of course.. papers.. what papers. Yeah not knowing the situation is starting to register as major suckage for Devlin as he realizes what is shaping up here. He takes a breath, "Let's not.. antag..." and then he realizes that horse just flashed its ass on the way out of the barn. He pauses for the moment as he turns his attention to the guard asking Vyv a question.

Grant murmurs to Vyv looking up as his hair gets fussed with to marginal success. "Yeah, but i won the other half." His eyes trail to the insect guy. He's bad with overhearing anything conventionally but the body language is doing all the talking. and then? And then there's the city guard coming over to talk to the super responsible people standing here. What does he do? Ooooh he's taking a step aside, and then another. Is... is he sweating? Yes. oh god this might go exactly as planned. He takes a casual step awaaaaaay from the guard (Hint: he's one beat away from tiptoeing to a staccato violin) to behind Devlin trying to stand perfectly still, shaking like a leaf and trying not to cry in panic. There's a hiss through clenched teeth quietly whispering...at the top of his lungs, "Don't let the fuzz take meeeee. I'm too young to be turned into a bug." Yup, there's the panic.

Vyv has very good posture. He is apparently capable of even better posture, as a tiny shift in the way he carries his shoulders and chin has him seeming suddenly a touch taller than before, wrapping himself right up in generations of privilege to just radiate the impression of aristocracy. I have every right to be here, the stance and expression say, as if doubt were an entirely foreign concept. Certainly it doesn't try not to be noticed. "Merely visiting," he answers the guard, accent crisp but tone deigning to be conversational with someone who is surely simply a Servant of the People Just Doing his Job, "We are guests in your city." There's a subtle emphasis on 'guests'. One wouldn't wish to be rude to the guests, would one? He firmly ignores what the others are doing, as though if he focuses strongly enough on the guard, the guard will be forced to ignore them as well.

And right on cue one of those guards does just what Byron had said. "Unbelievable." He mutters out one of his favorite catch phrases of annoyance, all while looking incredibly inconvenienced, shaking his head. He doesn't so much care about what's going off in other parts of the city at the moment. They had their own freaky looking guard to deal with. As he's standing near Vyv, he observes the interaction going on between the two, listening to Vyv's to-the-point answer to the question before he tries to gauge whether the lizard guard had bought this or not. Or if it even mattered.

He'll eventually say, "We just showed the last guard our documentation." He can only assume that visitors have documents too, he doesn't know. But apparently, they'd shown /someone/ their documents. It's this point where he creates as realistic an illusion that he can of another lizard in armor hurrying pass them through the crowd, calling out, "We're needed by the ceramic shop." The figure is almost a blur, but Byron will point out, "That's the guy! It was him!"

An aside to Devlin, however, has him saying, "Keep that kid under control."

Itzhak is a tall slice of bare-chested aggression in gold eyeshadow, glaring back at the snake guard. The guard's staff suddenly squirms in their grip, thrashing and wriggling free and bouncing over to Itzhak like a gleeful puppy. He snatches it out of the air. "You get outta my way," he informs the snake person in a low rumble that's nevertheless easily heard over the chaos, "or I'm gonna make you."

Grant is fucking panicked and if anyone is obviously hiding something and bad at it? It is Grant Baxter. This is why Greg doesn't tell him important shit and Grant never asks! Lucky for the group it kind of does work to the favor of others. Sort of. He tries to comply and slowly fishes out his wallet to produce a State ID, his bus pass, and an inter-dimensional Library card (laminated for safe keeping). He watches the snake man for a moment and turns around to bolt at high speed.

This is the continuation of shit not going as planned in his head.

Sea of bodies and he slams into the chest of someone easily twice his mass or maybe it's just a mass of things twice his size. BACKBACKBACK the other way. The drones do nothing for his nerves. He drops his wallet into pocket and pulls the safety goggles down (safety first) and points his finger like a gun at the wasp drone and 'fires' it. This is weirdly somehow effective.

Well, the shit hit the fan, and Devlin learned a long time ago that when it is time for action, ACT. And act he does, just as Snake Man.. or guard looses a staff, Devlin just grabs for the Guard's weapon. At first the big electro gun's shoulder strap snags for a moment on the guard's shoulder. Not to be thwarted, Devlin's familiarity with weapon's pay off as he finds the release for the strap to tug the weapon away. Weapon in hand, Devlin takes a short moment, "Ah.. safety.. must be common place for them. Go figure..." He flips off the safety, "Time for you to return to your barracks.. Right?" he says to the guard.

Vyv can play that part for a long time and through a lot of things, but the current situation either isn't one of them or isn't one he finds worthwhile; that staff comes up pointed at Grant and there's a twitch of the chef's lip that looks unusually like a snarl, his hand shooting out as if to grab at a similar staff that isn't actually there.

...and it isn't there, even the way he expected, which makes him blink in the fraction of a second it takes to figure out that Itzhak was faster. The last incident pops back into his head, and his hands lift to try to bar the wasps from approaching again, that same counter-pressure to keep them in one place, but it doesn't seem to work this time. Possibly from distraction? Who knows. "Bax! With us," he snaps, possibly on a strength-in-numbers theory. Possibly just because who knows where one might misplace a skater in a place like this?

When the lizard guard doesn't budge at his illusion, Byron continues to play along with his own charade. It's the best way to make someone think that they could be mistaken after all! "Look, just ask--" Then the thing mentions the word Artist again and all that Byron can say is, "Someone's going to be fired. And do you know how easily replaceable you are?" It doesn't matter that there's so much chaos going on around them at the moment, what with the whistling and the yelling coming from some other section of the market.

"Wonderful." He groans out on seeing those insectoids heading their way along with.. some other monstrosity. But these flying insects moved faster. While he's no physicalist really to be able to determine whether they are real insects or robots, he's dealt with them before. And can probably sense some electrical charge emitting from them. "Keep an eye out for those things." He quickly tells the others as he scrambles a bit away from the lizardman. In fact, he's still so used to needing to touch things in order to zap them, he's heading in the drones' direction, releasing enough of a jolt to in an attempt to fry several of those things. Grant might be freaking out, but right now, that's not Byron's problem!

"May your guns be made by the lowest bidder!" Itzhak snarls at the robotic centaur thing. One of its guns wither under his curse. Crunch.

Ok, Devlin's down range time.. he qualified.. the 3rd time.. He takes aim at the barn sized target.. that is so close.. he jerks the trigger and gets shoulder slammed by the recoil. The bolt flies and fries one mechanical critter.. by his expression, yeah.. he's surprised that he hit it. Then he realizes Grant is not behind him.. "Oh shit.. Kid... where are you at?"

Grant veers back to the group at Vyv's suggestion and behest. His prior panic is finally abated with something more pressing afoot. The artist is being persecuted? Oh this does to sit well. Standing up with all 5'7" of indignant defiance he snaps a look of apology to Vyv and Devlin, "Right here. Cover me." He's not brave but sometimes he can do brave things.

He hunkers down and makes like he's reaching into his coat only... his hand is empty? It's pantomime. He's got his 'rattlecan' and he tells the crowd with enough flailing arms as he climbs up onto a nearby half wall and some nearby detritus. What he imagines flows on to the nearby wall as if from the invisible can and... it's simple but paints up what is a simple message IF ART COULD CHANGE ANYTHING IT WOULD BE ILLEGAL and around starts lighting up an imagined image of the guy, presently persecuted but drawn only with the negative space of shadows drawn in and what might be starlight coming down.

Vyv is capable of doing many things elegantly. Catching staves is not, today, among them; it wasn't expected and while he does manage to keep the thing from going past or onto the ground, it involves a bit of a lunge and a brief bobbling to do it. He may have only a vague idea what to actually do with the thing, but it beats none at all. "Thank you!" he calls to the robed man, because there's no reason not to be polite to people who appear to want you not to die.

It's still a more familiar weapon he uses, though, giving Itzhak's curse a nod and reaching out with his free hand in a crushing, bending sort of motion. The other gun gives up the ghost as well, twisting end on end with an unpleasant sound that garners a tiny and also vaguely unpleasant smile. A glance after Grant, checking on him, and what's found makes the smile no less small but a fair bit pleasanter. It's only brief, though, as he watches for further threats... or ways out.

The gigantic metal monster was going to be a difficult thing to take down Byron knew. The need to dodge out of the way of the shots being fired also hindered his accuracy and dwindled in the intensity of his electric jolt. Even as he's building up his charge further, sending an arc of electricity to try and fry the giant, he's desperately looking around for an exit of sorts or an opening. But with everyone running here and there, there's a lot of openings in this chaos, but he wouldn't want the group scrambling to a dead end or worse.

"Keep it up!" He calls out regarding the assault on the mechanotaur or however it's spelled, "But be on the lookout for an escape!" Grant is off doing something in the distance which catches Byron's attention. He's about to ask what was up, but with the guards still on the loose and that monstrosity continuing its march towards them, he's slightly distracted.

Itzhak shouts, "Hey!" at the man in the beaded robe. He keeps another guard at bay, threatening him with his shock staff. "Pwill sent me! You gotta start getting people out of the city!"

Devlin yup, time to pull back.. Devlin will follow the strange woman that it was suggested to follow out of here. However, there is an air threat, so using the new toy (TM) he takes a shot into the general swarm and much to his surprise nails one. "Take that you fucker... " Nothing like a medic thrilled with actually hitting something.

Grant is focused on the wall and just taking in that feeling of helping move a mass of people to the right side of history. This is cacophony at its finest: breaking up order to allow something beautiful to grow... or he's just on a lot of shit right now making this a pretty damn surreal high. He's pulled by their human group. As they move he tries to take the initiative to tag more things to promote thought, and spark on the creative but not exactly promote violence.

If nothing else, the staff's not bad for maintaining some personal space, probably? Vyv blinks when the familiar-looking woman arrives. The hair and hand are memorable. "Hello again. What do you mean, you knew we'd be back?" He's still got an eye out for anything that seems to have it out for them, in particular, but this 'leaving' plan? Yes, he's in favour. He's also grabbing Grant's sleeve when he gets in range and pulling the graffiti artist back into their drift. "Come along, Colonel. Time to go."

There is this triumphant feeling that surges through Byron once the giant mech falters, becoming immobilized. That thing was intimidating as all heck and that was one less threat to worry about. "Good job!" Though he can see the wasps in the distance heading their way, "Watch it, incoming!" Hearing the robed man's comment and suggestion to the group, he quickly turns to look at the other man with a sharp eye, "Directions would be helpful. But I whole-heartedly agree!"

It's then that he feels something on his shoulder and he swerves around quickly an instinctual defensive reaction. He knows that the woman's face was famili- Oh right, she was at the office with the long lines. In a flicker of a moment, he's trying to remember her name for whatever reason, but someone fills in that blank immediately. "What exactly is going on here?" He shoots another look over at the robed figure, "Did you have this planned? Were you anticipating that we'd be here today for.. all of this?" He gestures around them.

Looking up at Grant's wall, the kid was starting a revo-- That's definitely what this is. Really, he can't help but just look at the pair of Jannah and the one in the robe, like don't drag us into your Revolution. Terribly non-plussed. "Like you said, we need to hurry."

Itzhak cries out, but his voice is lost even in his own skull, out-louded by the Voice. He drops the staff, hands clamping over his ears, not that it helps, and fights to stay in control, breathing hard and fast through clenched teeth. Tears spill from his eyes without his say so. As the last reverberations begin to fade, he looks for Jannah, his expression drawn and desperate. Open the door, he signs, one-handed.

Years of training barely keep Devlin going.. he slings the weapon, tears in his eyes. "Please.. stop..." He employs several meditation techniques he has learned in his Martial Arts training in an attempt to calm his mind.. shut out that voice...

Listening to the explanation given him by Jannah, Byron's brow lifts inquisitively, repeating a name she'd brought up, "Pwill? Is that like your.." He tries to think of a word, but he's not quite sure what any of this is all about, besides it being a revolution, "Leader? High Priest?"

Once he feels the first tendrils of something entering his mind, Byron's frame twitches. It was a blend of everything going on around them and yet something impacting each of them directly. It doesn't even start out slow, the roar of voices and the turbulent sensation of emotions begin to swell in him and all he can do is grit his teeth and brace himself as he murmurs in what starts as a lowly voice, "..get out..." then grows all the more loudly as this force tries to get the better of him, "Get the fuck out of my head." He hisses through clenched teeth. Byron Thorne is not a person who appreciates things fucking with his mind and he fights even harder now to shut it out, his brow creasing. He absolutely loathes this, even more than the downtrodden that he's feeling. "Let's go. " He says firmly and he means it. This was not his problem to deal with nor his pain to experience.

Grant hurts. The wave of whatever it is and whatever he's on? His emotions are raw and the graffiti artist predictably has his heart on his sleeve. This makes it particularly rude when he's punched in it. The thing about fear and despair is you can make someone feel it but you can't control how someone reacts to it.

The anguish is worn open with as much confusion as the day his mom chose not to come home; raw and visceral with the taste on adrenaline in the back of his throat. And then the voice comes and instead of falling apart? The skater charges forward is what is succinctly called blinding fury. That guard nearest? He charges them and with one TK punch launches them on their ass. "YOU TELL THEM LET THE PEOPLE GO YA MAMZER!" The lil wiry dude might just somehow proceed to beat the ever living shit out of this guy. "Stop. Hurting. MY. People. Asshole!"

'Who's Pwill?' sits unasked on Vyv's tongue, preempted by, apparently, The Truth(tm). His jaw tightens faintly as that rush of emotions washes over and around him, expression going otherwise entirely impassive. A rock in a flood may not get washed away, but there's no way it's staying dry; he nonetheless does a startlingly good job, at least visually, of pretending none of that moisture is left clinging to his surfaces. These feelings do not belong to him. This problem is not his.

...okay, the skater now beating up on guards is slightly closer to qualifying as his problem, at the least because it is definitely not getting them home. "Well. That seemed effective," he murmurs dryly at the sight of all the panic and fury and things that, to him, do not yet appear to be letting anything go but people's ids. But then, he doesn't know whatever their Grand Plan might be, does he? "Bax," he says at proper volume, and actually heads over there to grasp the shorter man's shoulder and try to draw him away, "Point made. He can't tell anyone anything if he's dead, mm? Come."

Itzhak nods sharply at Jannah. He draws in a breath and roars at Grant. The ground around him shivers. "BOYCHIK! We're leaving, get ya tuchis over heah!" Then...the ground is trembling not from his Song. From something else. Itzhak snaps his gaze across the bazaar, and although he can't see...he can certainly feel the amount of air displaced by the thing, the heft of it, the alien, horrible shape of it. "Oy gevalt," he whispers, eyes wide--as the thing notices him back. "Thorne. Chef. Get the hell out of here. Go!" And he's going too, shoving Byron ahead of him if he has to (but probably he won't because Byron is a smart fella).

Grant isn't even a violent guy, but careful moving those in reserve to action with clear purpose. That gear is getting torn apart. See? This is why it's important he wore safety goggles. His name flagging him down with purpose is enough.

He stands and sniffs wiping the side of his nose with the back of his wrist and signs the rest of what he has to tell him. "You do not get to quiet people-you." The Yiddish bites into him and he takes step back with a deep breath and turns to look to Vyv first, then Itzhak, then Devlin, Byron, and their guide. There's a slow nod. He looks at his hand examining it and walks to join them trying to jsut come down off of having so much fuel on that emotional pyre.

This is a Revolution. It needs one frankly.
He turns to tweak his message leaving a last one with some stenciled mountains and the words: LETS YOUR WORDS BE HEARD.

Because fuck those guys. He announces to Vyv, "I need a brownie." To say the least. Ugh today.

Vyv looks frankly somewhat impatient, mostly because he is over there, drawing Grant away, when he wants to be over there, virtually anywhere further away from the fighting and closer to possibly his own world. Especially when there's that sound, his eyes widening a touch as he takes in the feeling of-- of just how much of a much that thing approaches is, and widening further as they seem to catch its attention in return.

"Broadly my plan," he replies to Itzhak, the grip on Grant's shoulder tightening as he picks up his pace toward the alley. "What was that?" he asks Jannah as they head into the alley, "The voice that wants to be let go, I mean, although-- that also." The Harvester. Bax's need for a brownie gets a nod of acknowledgement. Nothing further, but it suggests decent odds of baked goods.

Hearing voices around him, namely Jannah when she answers one of his questions, Byron nods as his mind is being drawn away from the maddening chants in his head and all of that chaos. He feels what the others around him feel as well. Their grief and anger, but he continues to remind himself that those are not his feelings.

That's when he feels the ground shake and he fights to keep his balance being as disoriented as he is. And then he's yanked by the arm and dragged away by Jannah as they lead the others to what he can only hope is safety. "Harvester?" He calls out to her. No, he's not going to stop, but he does take a good look at the world around him, watching the chaos, but more importantly, it's this Harvester than he's worried about. At least it looked like everyone was following them, because he wasn't in the mind to go out herding people to safety. In fact, he was being herded there. Or somewhere!

Itzhak dashes to the side, avoiding a chunk of falling building. But Byron isn't going to be so lucky; he can sense that there's debris on a collision course with him. A little chunk of rebar zoops to Itzhak's hand and he whips it at the crumbling concrete coming down on Thorne, cracking it in half. Byron is mostly hit by dust. Itzhak is indeed herding him and swatting falling objects out of the sky as he follows the two natives. His Song is running high like a river in spring, power lancing through him. "Faster!" he barks at Byron, like they're not all going as fast as they possibly can.

Grant frowns and says to their guide, concerned, "They can't. Why is this..." His hands finish asking the question that is obvious. Why are people being silenced. Why is there to... risk- oh shit that thing is huuuuge. And it's raining parts. Man he reads a lot of fuckign comics because his hands go up like Invisible Woman to try to ablate one of the debris and it ... sort of works. "Yeah okay we're running." He's now on board with team-move-our-ass.

Vyv does not get answers, but a timely swipe of a hand at the air means he also does not get his head bashed by a big flying chunk of what he's sure Hyacinth could identify by material and era in an instant but to him is only huge and solid and a headache at best waiting to happen. So swings and roundabouts, for the immediate moment. Breath that still rather wants to be used for questions get saved for running instead, right now, but it can't be said he looks particularly pleased about it. Or anything.

Byron has very little control over what he's doing or where he's going. Jannah was pulling him right along and his legs just moved him there. All of that falling debris, all you could do was try and sprint ahead and that was difficult when everyone else was creating a stampede all around you. It's difficult to not look back in that masochistic way to view the creeping long-legged monster that practically washes the marketplace in dark shadow.

"So what now?" He calls out to Jannah and her friend, "Did you anticipate this happening too? Is everything still going as planned?" He knows that a lot people and beings may die here today and that wasn't entirely all their fault in his mind. When some of that debris nearly smashes into him, he tries to duck out of the way, but it wouldn't have made much of a difference. Instead, it shatters into bits and pieces by... looking over all of the usual suspects, he has one guess in this fleeing mass of bodies. "Thanks." He murmurs over to Itzhak who then barks at him to hurry.

This is way, way, WAY too much like certain nightmares of Itzhak's. He freezes in the light of the glyph, staring up--then the shocklines roll out and somehow they don't hit him and also somehow he's yanking one away from Grant with his psychic strength. He stands between the others and the Harvester, teeth bared. I will be your shield. It's not until everybody's down the hole that he goes, too.

Grant is quick but not quick enough. That shockline comes out with alacrity. There's just not enough room for them to move effectively and it catches the rogue artist giving him a hell of a jolt trying to stay. He's listening and though gritted teeth he tries to send that jolt back up the shockline to short it out but he's entirely too unfocused to do so. At least he's not turned into a ragdoll here. "Un.... cool..."

"How precisely does one ensla--" Vyv is just not going to get to finish sentences today. Fine. Fine! He's also not getting shocked, at least, though the baseline (and, frankly, currently rising) irritation flares up into fury for a bare moment when one of those lines hits Grant and appears to intend to wrap itself around the guy. Yes. Uncool. He slashes a hand in its general direction as if to bat it sharply away, and as he picks the same direction as Itzhak, they end up doing the trick neatly.

If the mechanic wants to bring up the rear, that's fine with the chef. Vyv's taking his vandal and going home. Or at least making sure they both get down that grate intact.

Finally regaining his bearing somewhat through the chaos following the mental assault, Byron moves quickly without needing the aid of their guides. When from out of the corner of his eyes he notices the whipping shocklines snaking their way towards the group, he picks up speed as his primary focus is to escape. He listens to the response given him by the robed figure and Jannah, but he doesn't have much more to add. Not now when things are really getting heated up.

However, before he follows suit into the darkness to safety, he will ask one question before his descent, "So... what will you all do now?" He only waits long enough for them to answer if they wish, before he, too, scrambles on in.

Itzhak hisses furious Yiddish at Jannah, but she totally out-stubborns him. So it is that the robed man is snatched away while he escapes, and he shouts too, reaching--before his mind is shaken apart with rage and he's reeling backwards, hitting a wall and sliding down. When he's able to think again, he's in his garage. He looks down at his empty hands...and snarls, gripping his hair and curling over.

Grant cannot believe this. Like literally he was napping in a beautiful drug induced coma before he got here and his reality is flipped sideways. Somewhere, at home he wakes up with his eyes in a flash and a sharp inhalation of breath. He rolls over and reaches for his phone finding out the fun way he's still injured from that electric burn. There's a muffled single whimper into his pillow and a murmured, "I, Damaramu2, will live to regret this." Reaching for his phone he shoots out a couple of texts. The first to Itzhak reading: Those fuckers missed. I ain't dead yet. The second to Vyv: "Not dead. How's them brownies coming along? Because if there's anything he's ever serious about to the grave it's revolution and also food.

If Vyv has to deal with feeling-things, at least he has practice with anger. But that's a hell of a lot of fury, and when he comes back to himself in his kitchen with a deep, sudden breath, he's grasping the edge of the counter hard enough it makes his hands hurt. Good thing he demanded good sturdy construction materials in there? He stands for several seconds, head bent and breathing quietly, then straightens and moves between counters and cupboards, putting a way a few ingredients he'd had out, taking down a few he hadn't. Two sorts of chocolate. Hazelnuts. It's calming.

He reaches for his phone, and it buzzes under his hand before he can do anything more. The text gets a soft snort. Don't assume, he texts back. And a few seconds later, You'll have to come find out, won't you. I don't deliver.

The only thing that Byron knows about what just went down is when he hears Jannah's scream from up above just before the grate slams closed. By then it's already dark and he's not even sure if the woman is even with them. No matter, the darkness is soon broken and that eye is right there staring down at them all. Just like the last time He thought to himself. "Who are you?" He asks, though has a feeling that he'll get no answer.

It's this rage that he's familiar with, having such anger inside of himself. But this, like the other emotions, was not his emotion.

It's dark again when he next opens his eyes and he's standing once more beside Lilith's bedside. He's still shaken by the incident, still feeling that anger inside of him. "Just..." He murmurs to himself, though the next part is not said aloud and merely thought of. Don't ask me to set you free. There are other heroes out there. He has doubts that She'll even listen.