Case 2 :: Dear Agony [Nyla :: Quincy Open]

After taking a shower, putting in his contacts, and grabbing his stuff, Vance was ready to leave the hotel for the day. Vance Holiday cackled to himself as he left the hotel. He had spent the previous day doing paperwork for his job. He was probably finally caught up and that was a good thing. He had his case in one hand, and his revolver in the cross draw under his jacket. His hair was freshly spike and he carried around his bag with his laptop and items with him. He was humming something as he passed by a few different people and checked his phone for the weather and such.

Vance was routine to a dot. Not because it was something he had to be, but because he had drilled habits into his own mind. He was a cheater, liar, and the best Artificer a Quincy could have, just in the opposite order than he kept his skills listed. Vance was a lot of things, with lots of different items to cheat with, but what Vance wasn't, was good. Vance was the embodiment of a mad scientist, but he had reasons for it, after all he always lied about what he was.

Where other Quincy were strong, Vance couldn't mold reishi to save his own life. So, he cheated, time and time again. He had no power for anyone to sense. Until he started attacking, when he did, it was simply items. Nothing felt like him, and nothing gave him away. People had to see Vance use his items, then live through it for them to tell others he even existed. Except for the few that kept Vance on speed dial to make them items. Those were probably the only ones exempt from Vance's need to experiment on everyone and study everything.

Vance walked into a local coffee place and ordered before heading outside and putting his case down and taking out his laptop, along with a small candy. He was looking for signatures on his computer to study or take a look at, little did he know he was already near one.

---

Gear Slots -
Ginto (3) :: Extra Shots (1) :: Pill (2) :: Phone (1) :: Laptop (1) :: SeeleX1 (2)

The steady rhythm of weighted heels echoed through the seemingly abandoned warehouse. A lithe, hooded figure proceeded forward with silent resolve. Their face remained hidden within the darkness of their hood, their head lowered slightly, but from their gait and body shape it was clear that the mysterious person was female. As to why the woman would be here in this dimly lit and abandoned place? The answer to that was rather simple: she was hunting. What was she hunting? The answer to that question would provide a clue as to the full identity of this woman.

She was hunting Hollows, dark creatures that preyed on both the living and the dead. She was a Quincy, spiritually gifted hunters whose primary task was the destruction of the scavenging beasts. But there was something different about this woman, something that set her apart from every other Quincy. Whereas most Quincy had likely only taken part in this sacred crusade from perhaps a few decades, she alone had been hunting for the better part of two centuries. Her name was Nyla Reybourne, the last member of the Dusklight Order of Quincy. The source of her supernatural vitality, however, was a closely guarded secret that she would not willingly disclose.

As she proceeded into a darker section of the warehouse, masses of shadow around her seemed to move independently from any light sources that should have created them. Upon reaching the center of the room, the moving darkness appeared to encircle her, cutting her off from the entrance she had just moments before passed through. There was a subtle whisper of fabric shifting as she turned her head ever so slightly to glance over her shoulder before looking forward again. From wall of shadow, bone-white masks of varying designs at varying heights materialized. Gradually the singular mass began to split into several individual Hollows. Another muted movement of fabric, this time accompanied by the faint chime of jewelry settling against a hard surface; the medallion around her neck that held her Quincy cross seemed to have shifted with anticipation.

"Yuh made a fatal mistake stopping here, yuh should've kept running." Her tone radiated a sultry confidence at surface level, yet below that was a grim certainty which seemed to validate her threat to the Hollows. A chorus of defiant growls rumbled from the group of Hollows as they began to close in around her. A sharp "tsk" shot from the veiled lips within the hood; an expression of disgust from the woman.

"Mi nuh shell yuh down, yuh not worth it." She resolved. At the same moment, the medallion fell silent. Her right hand rose, wreathed in smoky reiatsu, and swiped to her left in a sharp arc. As she did so, the smoke solidified into a sharp crescent that cleanly sliced through the Hollows in front of her, only to break into smoke once more and reform behind her to perform the same action with the Hollows located there as well. Without another word, as the slain Hollows faded into nothingness behind her, the woman departed and made her way towards a more inhabited part of the city.

Save for a few curious glances from people wondering who this hooded woman was, Nyla was undisturbed as she continued on her way through the semi-crowded streets. As she passed by a small café, however, a familiar shape caught her attention. Halting in her steps, she turned her head slightly, her eyes following the bouncing movement of the cross attached the owner's bracelet as he worked on his computer. Turning towards him, her hands rose to grip the sides of her hood and pull it back, finally revealing the face beneath.

"Excuse me, that jewelry you're wearing there...you wouldn't happen to be a Quincy, would you?" She questioned as she took a few more approaching steps. She was certain she knew the answer already, but she was curious all the same as to whether or not he would be upfront and answer affirmatively.

Vance looked at the woman and at the speed of a normal human, he pulled his revolver out of his coat and pointed it at her. It was a fluid gesture, but it was only human, just like Vance. He blinked at her at her as he looked at his wrist and the Mariner's cross sitting on it. It was a good catch, but it made him annoyed that someone had noticed. Then again, it wasn't entirely the truth, but it wasn't a lie either. He shifted his weight and pointed at the seat next to him as he holstered his gun.

He decided to let it go, only because it had given him more information. He had to hide that stupid thing. "Artificer, not a combatant." He stated politely. "People like me make the originals." He said holding up his arm with the Mariner's cross on it and flicking it with a finger to spin it. He turned his computer towards her and showed her a modified Laden Hant file he had been working on, along with technical specifications, vibration resonator, and a few other words that probably only Vance would understand. He was making it for his adopted family member, but was slightly behind.

"I couldn't hurt a fly." He stated before going back to typing. "Vance Holiday, Quincy Artificer." He shifted as he thought about how he could use this nosy Nora to study something else.

This wasn't the first time that a gun had been pulled on her, and most likely wouldn't be the last time. As such, she was unphased, simply quirking an eyebrow and tilting her head as her gaze slid along the length of the gun from barrel to hammer, down to the base of the handle and back to the barrel. It was an impressive weapon, to say the least. Her eyes met his as he began to speak. The title he had given seemed familiar, but she couldn't particularly place where or how she knew it. Perhaps it had been in a tome somewhere....

A hand rose to unclasp the cloak from around her neck and drape it over the back of the chair as she sat down. Her gaze was once against drawn to the cross as it was spun. If she were to be completely honest, the files and images being presented to her on the computer screen were only vaguely familiar, if only because she could recognize the Quincy cross and similar items in some of the images.

"I see, an Artificer...I'm not sure where, but I recall mention of that. In any case, my name is Nyla, I am....well, I'll just say that I'm a Quincy as well." She introduced with a courteous nod. Explaining her true nature would be offering a bit too much information about herself, and too much information lead to connections being established.

She would rather not get involved with anyone too closely. The fact that they were both Quincy was good enough. Her hand rose to absently toy with the medallion around her neck, each movement loosing a faint chime through the air.

"Are you the last of your kind, then? Artificers, I mean. Have you run into any other Quincy here? I'm...looking for more of us, so to speak." She cast a sidelong glance towards him, still toying with the medallion as she waited for his response.

"Don't put me in the same category as you.  People who call themselves Quincy are rarely good at destroying anything, at least I know I can't."  He said typing before looking up at her and deciding how to answer her question.  "Someone made your cross, I know because it's trash.  So obviously there are artificers left.  Someone has to make the Seele, medallions, phones that other Quincy use that have weaker functions of mine for some reason.  Laden Hant, Sanrei, baits.  Ginto Tubes."  Vance stated.  Most Quincy he knew didn't make their own stuff, someone gave it to them, which means someone made it.

Or at least, that was logical.  Vance yawned and pulled up some files on other items he had made.  "I see more Quincy than I do pajama samurai, I just don't care about either.  Telling them would simply impede my work, and if they want something made, chances are they'll find me."  After all, she had, which made him slightly annoyed.  Saying last of his kind meant  nothing to Vance, cause he was the only Quincy he knew of like himself.  Other Quincy had power, he just faked it.  The ability to be smart helped.

"If you're looking for more, it's not hard.  Wait for some hollow to show up, they come out of the woodwork like cockroaches.  Keep ruining forced evolution experiments."  He said offhandedly.

The slender fingers that currently held the medallion began to tighten around it. There was very little, outside of Hollows and Shinigami, that got a negative reaction out of Nyla. One surefire way, however, was to speak ill about her Order. She owed her life to them; she would have been long dead had it not been for them. The cross they had given her was one of the only things that she truly treasured. So to have it spoken of in such a derogatory way...

An emerald glow ignited in the normally steel gray irises of the elder Quincy.

"Yuh wan' speak carefully, bwoi. Mi nuh get vexed by much, but yuh playing a dangerous game." A venomous tone saturated her words and the medallion gave off a warning knell. He was still speaking, but Nyla wasn't listening as closely as she had been before. Gripping the medallion reminded her, fortunately, that the boy beside her was just that: a boy. He had barely begun his life and likely didn't know better. The vice grip she held on her medallion slackened and her eyes slid closed. She exhaled patiently, letting the medallion slip from her fingers to hang passively upon her neck. When she opened her eyes again, they were devoid of the hostile green shimmer.

"Experiments? What kind of experiments?" It wasn't particularly a feigned curiosity, but it was not wholly genuine, either.

"Oh, I torture people for science. Usually in really violent and sometimes not pleasant ways. After all, I need test subjects and readings in order to make sure things work.." Vance stated like it was the most normal thing in the world. Vance stated as he took notes on the reishi glow from the woman's eyes. "Usually pajama samurai or masked morons." He added, though some of his inventions wouldn't have been probable without it. Vance didn't like this holier than though thing the older Quincy had going on. He was liable to beat her senseless if she hadn't shown him the eyes.

"Can you do that thing with your eyes again?" He asked pulling out his phone and getting ready to take readings. "Oh, and while I care very little, please don't think I was mocking your order. I simple was mocking whoever made that medallion. It was rushed, made to conform to you rather than making something FOR you. I am impressed that it doesn't immediately conform to a Bogun, but it doesn't change the fact that it's generic. Don't worry, most Quincy gear these days is."

The cavalier tone he used when he explained the nature of his experiments actually managed to surprise Nyla the slightest amount. She had already gathered from their interaction thus far that tact was something Vance was exceedingly unfamiliar with; or if he was familiar, he chose to willingly eschew it. Regardless, his upfront nature was a bit refreshing. The fact that his usual test subjects were Shinigami and Hollows was actually a bonus, as well.

For the second time since they had met, Nyla found herself quirking an eyebrow at Vance. She had known that revealing even a modicum of her true nature would arouse curiosity and begin the questions, but she hadn't intended on it happening; it had been reflexive in response to his comment about her medallion. Her gaze shifted briefly to the phone that he raised then back to his face. Her lips gradually curled into an amused smirk.

"Ah, you want to study me, now?" She queried, leaning back in her seat and crossing her legs. The nail of her left index finger tapped thoughtfully at the moon in her medallion.

"And what're you hoping to accomplish? You want to replicate it? Turn it into a Ginto spell? You're a funny one, child. And do you think it'd be that easy? Copying what you see from me?"

Vance laughed at her, cackling as he grinned in more of a demonic visage than most humans were privy to. "Of course I can, but copying is boring. I study things to make them better. From vibration frequencies of power to natural insanity. Oh and don't flatter yourself, I don't make spells, or more appropriately, I can't. Though if I had to guess what I would use your eyes glowing on, probably make something that blinds extra-dimensional beings and doesn't effect eyes coated in reishi." Vance stated as he looked her over again. Vance didn't like being mocked but he was pretty sure she was trying her best.

Plus, being called a kid was liable to get her on a dam operating table as far as he was concerned. He shifted and looked at her before he lifted his phone at her again. "Eyes. Then let me scan your weapons and cross." He stated pointedly again, he was wondering why he was dealing with this woman now, he had to keep her from telling everyone who he was. Unless she was getting him to work on her stuff, he really didn't care about her, Quincy or not.

Nyla laughed. For the first time in what was likely decades, the ageless Quincy let forth a genuine and hearty laugh. This boy was quite amusing; his confidence bordered on outright hubris. The fact that he believed his science and inventions could even replicate let alone improve a blessing from the Loa...she supposed such flights of fancy were commonplace for children. Not mention he had the idea behind the "glow" in her eyes completely wrong; but that was to be expected when he didn't know its origin to begin with.

"You think it's from reishi? Now that's a funny joke." Nyla chuckled again. If she were being perfectly honest, she was actually beginning to consider showing him once more, if only to see what conclusion he came to. Most likely, given his apparent proclivity and predisposition for science, he would guess that she was the result of some kind of genetic merger.

"My cross, my weapons, and my eyes? Such a demanding boy you are. It's been some time since someone was so bold as to ask me that." The steady tap of her nail on the medallion was now matched by the slow sway of her foot. He had once again raised the phone and now waited for her to begin the demonstration.

"Alright then, get a good look, child. Let's see what conclusion you come to." At the conclusion of her statement, her eyes slid shut. There was a metallic scrape as the chair was pushed back from Nyla standing. Her hand pulled away from the medallion and rose to her shoulder. Shards of reishi began to pull away from the environment and piece itself together first into an outline of a large cannon resting across her shoulders then solidifying the cannon's form. When her eyes opened and the emerald glow brightened in her eyes again, the cannon had fully formed.

"So then, what's your guess as to what I am?"

Vance really wanted to shoot this lady.   Number one, she was barely older than he was.  Five years, tops, which as far as his uncle and aunt was concerned, was like half their difference and they were married!  Vance also didn't like being played.  He sighed as she spoke, she kept seeming to believe everything was about her.  Vance was half tempted to educate her, but doing so seemed like talking to most Quincy, idiots set in their ways who think their family was the best.  In that aspect, Vance missed his family, at least they didn't say things like that.  His dad and mom didn't like that he wasn't a bad ass gunslinger, but when they learned he could craft virtually anything, they sure as hell put it to good use.

Vance took pictures the moment she began moving back.  He made sure to scan some of the reishi that formed into the gun and realized he was suddenly, losing energy.  Vance hated this, his own personal double edged sword.  Of all of his secrets, even lying about what he was, the one that mattered was the worst.  Vance Holiday's own personal hell.  That told him a lot.  Vance then sent the readings to his laptop and pulled it out.  He set it up in front and then went through everything she had said.  Vance thought slowly, and carefully.  Each piece of information going through his mind from his background and day job.

"You're a Quincy, a really old one.  Reasoning, you call me a child, and speak with an accent that I know because I'm American is older and out of style.  Your eyes aren't being modified by Reishi, they're being modified by Reiryoku, which means you've been at this since before the purge.  How you have managed to live that long is beyond me. Which brings up the next point, your weapon doesn't resemble something modern, it's tasteful and self-imagined which means you came up with it before what people thing is standardized as weaponry.  It also too dated as far as the edges and look, which means it's not modern or based on a belief in science-fiction.  Your accent says Cajun, but the way you refer to others and belief in an Order as opposed to a family means you were part of some kind of odd Quincy Cult.  Most of that comes from the fact you haven't shoved your family and background at me ten times like most Quincy.  I've heard of some from back when, but that's ancient history.  You speak in denoted and distant referendums which means a lot of the people you care about have died previously.  So, you distance yourself from most everyone in order to pretend like you don't care.  The fact you act like your better without challenging anything I do or say also proves a detachment from the knowledge of modern Quincy.  To you, Artificers like me were very much a thing of the past, and you were right in that I might be one of the last ones when you consider whoever made that piece of jewelry around your neck.  Must be hundreds of years old now.  As we don't use gold and elaborate braiding in most modern Quincy Crosses and Pentacles.  That, and the moon, as well as your accent and demeanor point to spiritualism of some kind, maybe Mayan or Atlantean, though if not that far back.  The Tuatha or the Orisha.  From there deduction and your personal disinterest with children like myself means you also suffer from Post Traumatic Stress of some kind and probably a number of psychological issues that can only really be obtained by compiled psychological damage caused over, in your case what may be a millennia."

He said before adding.  "I profile people daily, I'm a detective when I'm not making things or trying to come up with more horrifying ways to damage other dimensions.  How'd I do?" Vance asked sarcastically, not like he cared.

There was a glimmer, a quick flash of deeper green that glinted in her eyes then receded just as quickly as it had surfaced. He had managed to, if even for such a miniscule moment that it could likely have not occurred at all, intrigue her. A few of the answers he gave were close, she supposed, or rather in the general area of an almost correct answer, but ultimately missed the mark when it came down to it. As such, being that she made it a point not to reveal information about herself to those she didn't trust---of which the number was, at this point, just barely countable on a single hand---she would have to carefully address each point without actually giving any real information.

"A detective, are you? I suppose that explains the straight-laced and overall "by the book" way you speak about things." Nyla paused, her free hand rising to allow her fingers to hook onto the lower half of the weapon's barrel. The fabric of her sleeves grew taut on both arms as she leveled out the weapon to rest perfectly horizontal across her shoulders.

"You were almost correct about a few things, but not quite. First..." Another pause, a bit more pressure applied equilaterally caused a thin crack to etch its way down the center of the weapon.

"I'm older than you, that much is correct. But your timeline is a bit too broad. Second..." More pressure was applied and the crack deepened.

"I know what Artificers are, I've met them on more than one occasion. The last was some time ago, hence my question on if you were the last. Third..." The crack was more noticeable now, and seemed to emit the dull blue glow characterized by reishi use. Now it had reached to nearly the halfway point of the weapon.

"You stated I pretend not to care, there's no pretending about it. You and everyone around this café could drop dead right here and now and it'd make no difference to me. Death is a natural step in The Cycle. But you're still young, you'll learn eventually. Now, fourth, or perhaps this would be an addendum to the first point..." The crack how reached the middle point and had deepened in depth. Similarly, the dull blue glow seemed to brighten.

"I haven't mentioned anything about any kind of belief in an Order. There was no cult, just a family like any other Quincy. As to why I've not mentioned them, the answer to that is pretty simple; I don't trust you. Our conversation thus far has been out of cordiality. On to the fourth point..." The weapon was now beginning to angle upward at its center, as if it were being broken in half.

"A Cajun accent? Close, but no cigar. Lastly..." Nyla had actually smirked at the idea of her accent being considered Cajun. Cajun was a descendant, she supposed, but not the original. She applied more pressure to the weapon. Now it began to glow brighter and seemed to just barely be holding together.

"You mentioned the Tuatha and the Orisha, so you're at least familiar with some kind of spiritualism. I guess you're not solely devoted to science. There may be hope for you yet, boy. But, unfortunately, you're wrong. No Mayans, no Atlanteans, not the Tuatha, and not the Orisha. Better do more research." With a final downward jerk, the weapon was snapped in half, immediately after shattering into quickly dissipating shards of reishi. As the last of the reishi faded, Nyla sat down once more, casually eying the computer screen before looking elsewhere.

"Overall, I'd give you a five out of ten. Fifty percent is not bad, I suppose." She fell silent, seeming to be in thought. After a moment, a thought occurred to her, something she had only passingly noted minutes prior.

"Tell me something, Vance, you mentioned being a non-combatant. Is that because you choose not to or because you can't?" She paused, eying him intently.

"You can't use reishi, can you? I noticed a grimace when you watched me do it. Did you never learn how or are you just incapable of it?"

Vance lost his mind in seconds, his hands were back on his gun and the other on the small box that he had in his jacket, pulling it out and opening it. This woman, was dangerous, more than any hollow, more than any shinigami, more than any thing he had met. Vance had two problems, two secrets, and she had gotten one and almost the other in a minute flat. She was good, in fact it impressed the man to no end. He barely realized how he had reacted, he looked at the box and his hand, which was shaking slightly on the hilt of his holstered revolver and managed to calm down.

"Fifty's terrible then, cause you just hit seventy five." Vance stated, conceding and removing his hand from the revolver and sticking it back on the table to keep himself away from temptation. "I can fight, but I'm only human, I can't manipulate reishi. I can't even see souls correctly. The wince wasn't because of you being able to. So I'll give you seventy five. So, lets drop it." Vance stated and pulled out a burner phone and sent it information on two Quincy that Vance had seen previously. A man and woman both wielding old school bogun when Vance had damaged the city. They were labeled with file Codes, not names. He handed her the burner with the images.

"Call it professional courtesy, they're probably more your style. When you want that cross made into something cooler, let me know. Or if you need a Seele, or something else." Vance said putting his laptop away. He needed to get away from this woman before she learned the other secret, and she was already on the right track. He then handed her his Interpol card and nodded. "I apologize for my rudeness, you're far more wise than I am." Vance said admitting defeat as he began walking off, annoyed.

Nyla made no movement in response to Vance's sudden hostility, at least not one that could be readily seen. She narrowed her eyes only slightly and thin, barely visible wisps of black reiatsu began to encircle her hand that lay idle of the armrest of her chair. She hadn't been planning on fighting him, but if he acted with hostility then she would certainly retaliate. As it turned out, that would not be necessary. The reiatsu faded from her hand and her expression softened to its default neutrality as he began speaking.

"Fair enough, consider it dropped." She responded with a brief nod. She watched with waning curiosity as Vance produced another phone and seemed to be doing something with it. Nyla furrowed her brow with mild bewilderment as he handed her the phone. Taking a moment to scan through the photos it contained, she understood the purpose of it immediately; he had given her a lead to two other Quincy that may be in the city.

"I'll keep that in mind." She remarked in passing as he handed her the card and prepared to leave. Apparently her realization about his reishi use, or lack thereof, had struck a nerve. She watched him thoughtfully, only giving a short nod in response to his apology then followed his progress as he left the café. After he had departed, Nyla took another look at the card he had given her before tucking it away in her pocket then glancing at the phone again.

"Interesting...well it's a start, I guess." She muttered while tucking away the phone as well. A few moments later she rose to her feet, putting on her cloak and drawing up the hood once more.

"Back on the hunt I go..." With a quick glance around, Nyla turned and left the café, heading off deeper into the city.

-Thread Exit/End-