(Log) Marmite

From Megaman Mush Wiki

WHO: Lumine and Signas
WHAT: Adventure. Betrayal. Miracles. Murder. Marmite. The end of an era for Signas, as he learns he can never trust the Irregulars again.
WHERE: London Town
WHEN: May 30th, 2221

Logfile from M3 Signas.

London Town is not the nicest place in the world, let's be honest. Sure, it's the heart of a bustling megalopolis, and that comes with perks.

But it's also the heart of a bustling megalopolis.

And that comes with down sides, too.

Signas walks past a row of homeless, ragged tweens, trying his best not to get lured in by their scams. He's in London on business, after all. Briefly sidestepping around a particularly large dead cat in the road, he turns down a dank, cramped alley and walks along between a 22nd century Starscraper and a 15th century building, still in use as housing. He walks swiftly, ignoring the shady card game behind the dumpster and the come-hither looks of the outdated pleasure droids.

And then, out onto a somewhat larger 'street', lined with old shops with run-down signage and stray dogs roaming in packs. It is here that Signas' mission is truly interrupted. And all because of a single, innocuous store. The Diplomat stops dead, catching sight of it out of the corner of his eye. He can't believe what he sees, so he turns to take a good, long look.

In big, flashing neon lights: HARVEY'S DISCOUNT MARMITE EMPORIUM.

Signas stares.

Speaking of perks, Lumine does not want a new cellphone with three cameras the lowest 7 year contract on the market and blah blah blah blah. Despite the self-advertising tags and banners which afflict anyone walking past with prerecorded sales phrases in non-regional diction and holographic visual display components.

Of course they sell cell-phones in the Marmite Emporium, because they sell cell-phones everywhere, here at the Marmite Emporium the stands next to the check-outs are also bustling with communications devices.

Lumine manages to look distasteful and aloof, fully realizing that the adverts as they call them in Jolly-Olde-England are unintelligent automations and paying them no mind. Lumine's features seem to cloud, to darken, if you will momentarily, but this is fleeting as there is a smug smirk wafting in on a warm front supplanting those angry emotions.

A loud clattererupts from the display shelves as a purple and gray hand snaps out to knock many of the cheap empty display-husk-models onto the floor and it is with an air of satisfaction that the Maverick turns the corner of the aisle being deposited by its path at the front of the Emporium. Lumine looks a bit lost as it stares out the window blankly, unfocused, and completely ignorant of Signas even though they're basically looking at eachother.

Lumine's attention is focused on the glass display case in front of it, a look of uncertain horror beginning to dawn on that 'perfect' horizon, as it beholds the centerpiece of Harvey's Horrorshow:

Signas continues to stare, also entranced by the inexplicable Marmite Art. Or, as the sign proudly proclaims, MARTMITE. As if in a daze, he moves forward, holding up a huge hand to touch the glass. Never in all his years of being a living supercomputer has he ever imagined anything like this. It goes beyond his wildest calculations.

"Is that... Marmite Gordon Ramsay?" he says quietly, reverently. Then, with conviction: "I MUST HAVE IT."

Signas finally snaps back into the world, and looks up. Inches away from Lumine. He blinks, becaues this is just getting more surreal by the second. "Lumine," he says, recovering his composure. "How unexpected."

Lumine is on the other side of the glass. At this time the Maverick's attention, not similarly held in thrall by Marmite-Gordon Ramsay, or even Marmite Baroness Thatcher, looks up in time to see Signas speaking to himself from the other side of the glass. Inches away; but fortunately for the innocent bystanders, who have yet to react in abject fear and terror at the merest presence of dangerous kill-beasts due to the quietness so far, miles apart as seperated by the glass of the store-front window.

Lumine sees Signas looking at it and preens slightly for its likewise unexpected audience, smugly grinning, wide-eyes wide. Lumine allows this moment of 'contact' to go inperturbed for a Space-Ghost but not quite 12 Oz Mouse sized pregnant pause and then "Signas!" followed by the Maverick's optics circumflexing and genuine amusement betraying any hostility for the immediate moment, mouths two words with deliberate indistinctness back to the Hunter Diplomat.

--Elephant Shoe--

Lumine's hands swing together across its breast, folding into one another as if thrown by the very forces of destiny.

Signas blinks, very slowly. As if his eyelids were glaciers, and his eyes the mountains waiting to be reduced to valleys. His processor grinds uncomfortably to a halt, then sputters and groans back into full functionality.

"Ah, of course, the glass," he says smoothly, walking over to the door and entering the Marmite Emporium. Once inside, he ignores the cellular telephone adverts and walks over towards Lumine. As cover, he takes one of the small liquor store-style carts, which comes up to about his knee, and pushes it along by the oversized safety flag soldered to the back. "I did not expect to see you here, Lumine. What brings you to London Town." He pauses, looking back down a the mirrored display. "Is it... marmite."

[Radio: (C) A Chat] Signas transmits, "Can Marmite be weaponised."

[Radio: (C) A Chat] Durandal transmits, "Most anything can be weaponized."

[Radio: (C) A Chat] Signas transmits, "Hm."

[Radio: (C) A Chat] Signas transmits, "Is it a component of any horrifying weapons of mass destruction that you know of."

[Radio: (C) A Chat] Durandal transmits, "Vegans?"

[Radio: (C) A Chat] Signas transmits, "I am just trying to figure out why Lumine would be at a marmite emporium."

[Radio: (C) A Chat] Cinnamon transmits, "'cause he's weird?"

[Radio: (C) A Chat] Cinnamon transmits, "And evil?"

[Radio: (C) A Chat] Signas transmits, "Hh. I suppose."

Lumine is of course amiable and prepared for Signas, having had ample opportunity to watch him through the windows coming around the front of the store and in through the front door. His entrance complete with the digitized Ding Dong of an entry bell it is hard to miss. Lumine swings its identically sized shopping cart around, hands resting only slightly-awkwardly upon its handle at just below waist level.

Lumine does a double take at Signas' query, looking back to the prominent display of Martmite with dawning realization. And with a slightly harried and flustered flourish, pulls a crumpled shopping list out from a subspace pocket.

Lumine's eyes scan the list, and then peer over its sagging crumpled boundaries at Signas, "I am here in London Town looking for some ... food items such as bangers..." There is a little hesitation and Lumine points at the list with a pinky finger but then, discouraged, does not attempt it.

"No marmite one the list though. Is that what those are?" It asks managing to puff itself up with enthusiasm as it begins to truly comprehend the difficulty it has been experiencing in this store so far. "So I'm not going to find any ... 'bleeding pillacs' on these shelves either?" Lumine's optics narrow with exhaustion looking up at Signas from beneath heavy lids.

Then a soft sigh escapes those lips, it could be compared to a warm summer breeze through the cherry blossoms, but has more of the effect of being quickly consumed by the environment: more like a blast of cold air into the heart of a furnace, a futile expenditure of energy at best.

"Ah," Signas says neutrally. "Shopping."

He is not sure he quite believes it, but there's no point pursuing it at this point. He subconsciously brushes at his metal greatcoat, disposing of imagined metal lint. "I do not think you will find Bangers here," he acknowledges, turning to look out the window at the store across the street. "Perhaps... Bill's Banger Hut... will have a wider selection." The Diplomat narrows his eyes, noticing the logo of a large man in tight pants. "Or perhaps... not. Bleeding pillacs sounds more like something one would find a cure for at the pharmacy."

Signas raises an eyebrow. "Is something the matter, Lumine. You seem troubled."

Lumine's reaction is smooth and sly, folding up the note and any distress with it, putting them away for later. The Maverick raises the opposite eyebrow, visible only through standard animation feature of anime style cartoons of drawing the eyebrow through the bangs, which as this moment Lumine flips a hand through, cleaning those long spikey hipster points up a bit and getting them out of the other optic completely.

"Well thank you so much for your concern Signas!" But do not fret, the bile with which you would possibly first read that with, is not there, Lumine's big watery doe-like eyes coupled with a genuine, innocent and childlike enthusiasm and unfaltering bliss. "Well, I am obviously a little bit lost, and I haven't found anything on the list, but now you're here, my good friend, Signas!"

Lumine gives its good friend Signasty Jones a comraderly clap on the back, floating up from the floor and away from its empty shopping cart to do so, "And did I see you looking at that beautiful Martmite portrait of 346 time consecutive Iron Chef Pope Gordon Ramsey the First?" Lumine comments indifferently, because as a matter of fact the Director did notice Signas' attentions, "I see it's for sale you know."

Signas offers a flat-mouthed 'smile'. "Yes. Here I am," he replies. He does not expand on that. "Perhaps I can help you find your bangers and bleeding pillacs, I have some time."

Signas pushes the tiny cart down an aisle, frowning as he looks over the labels on the products. Most of them are indecipherable. And most of them are marmite. "Hh. Perhaps they have a frozen goods section," he muses.

Lumine rolls its eyes and screws up its face, gesticulating at Signas backside as it falls into line behind the Hunter. "Can you freeze marmite? Don't they have regular stores in europe. With more than one kind of food in it? Humans really ought to get with it, this sort of thing isn't even quaint."

Lumine drags its finger disdainfully through the dust lining a shelf and protecting some antique WWII canned Marmite Sandwiches, which a sign proudly displays for sale for some exorbitant amount of future euros, so like not very many zenny, but still.

"They may have these bangers in the back," Signas replies, pushing the little cart along towards the rack of freezers. "I do not think it is possible to freeze marmite. It is too... salty."

The Diplomat pulls open a promising freezing door and peers inside.

"Hh. This is not bangers," he says.

And he's right. It's not bangers.

It's a World War II aviator.

Lumine blinks and hovers aside, to give Signas room to back up. Lumine doesn't seem shocked in the slightest, contrary to Signas' reaction, but does seem a bit surprised. That quickly becomes a smile as it checks the note and with a flourish crosses it out by burning a neat line on the list with a point-defense micro-laser.

Lumine deflates a bit as it approaches, swinging the door open and hesitating before reaching to grab the bukly stiff weight. "He looks a little awkward. But I understand you have principles or something to maintain..."

"Be careful, don't touch him," Signas says urgently, reaching up to stay Lumine's hand. "Who knows how long he has been here, preserved like this." His eyes narrow, and his hand hovers above the fur-lined ruff of the airman's coat.

"Do you see a name tag, or dog tags anywhere. We should see if he has any next-of-kin." A pause. "Or if he can be revived. Though there are ethical concerns surrounding that question."

Lumine sniffs at Signas a bit, backing up. It waves the shopping list around a bit for emphasis, then shrugs, putting it away and speaking slowly, with confidence. "Of course he can be revived, that's why he was on the list. Lumine snaps its fingers and summons a red ball of energy which hovers above its hand.

Glowing with a dull warmth as Lumine waves a palm at the orb, it gently rolls up against the frozen pilot's chest through the open door. It shrinks and depletes as the minimal thermal power it puts off is expended, but the minimal thaw has the immediate result of a jingling chain as the requested dog tags tumble free from his collar and into Lumine's outstretched hand.

About to jerk forcefully on the chain, Lumine catches itself, peering back over its shoulder to smile innocently at Signas and then floats up to lift the chain over the indignified corpse's head.

"Wh--" Signas pauses. "I-- /why/ is a frozen WWII airman on your shopping list."

He swiftly recovers composure and walks forward to peer over Lumine's shoulder at the dog tags (this is not difficult as he is twice Lumine's size). "Hold them to the light, let's see who this is." With his other hand, Signas taps at his wrist to dial up the Interpol hotline. This will require specialists.

Lumine frowns at Signas, squinting over the list and suddenly becoming very withholding about the dogtags, resisting Signas' desire to share the information to be gained from them for a few minutes to allow a retort before holding them up to the light for his readership. "He wasn't, frozen human corpse. check. Bangers and Mash, not check. "

Lumine points at the label on the shelf behind the guy where it says Mama Michelob's Frozen Entrees - Bangers and Mash 3 Quid. -whatever that means. "I may not be a beggar Signas, but today I'll rescind my right to choose."

Signas frowns, closing the freezer's door. "Look, Lumine. I'm bringing in Interpol's crygenetics division for this... individual." The Diplomat opens the next freezer door, which is full of conveniently-labeled Frozen Bloody Pillacs boxes. "Here, this should round out your list at this store. I do not think Harvey's Discount Marmite Emporium will have anything else you n--"

"Ooogh... bloody 'ell, I got a headache biggern' me johnson!" comes a muffled voice from the freezer.

Signas turns to stare, and his jaw drops. This is a rare sight.

Lumine looks rather unimpressed with Signas sudden take charge attitude. The man is on sale for three quid and there's hardly anything to be troubled over except how to make change for that with a 10 zenny note.

But the pilot speaks up suddenly, and Lumine's attention and skepticism are drawn simultaneously and in vast quantities to the reviving man's direction. Spying a bottle of MarmADVIte on the shell the Maverick swipes it up with a swirl of dust and shakes a few yeast flavoured head ache pills out, offering them to the man.

"Blimey! Thanks mate!" The pilot says, as Signas, for the third time, struggles to regain his composure. It is proving to be an interesting night. The pilot accepts the headache pills and downs them in a single gulp. "Aaaah! I can feel me noggin clearin' up already." With a toss of his impressively-preserved aviator's scarf, he steps out of the freezer, brushing the ice off his bomber jacket. "Say, are you a bloke or a dame? I don't mean any disrespect but, well, where I come from if a gent's got hair like that it's for one of two reasons." He doesn't elaborate, but grabs a can of Marmite Beer off a shelf, pops it open, and begins downing the entire thing.

"Sir," Signas says levely. "This may come as a shock to you... but the year is 2221. Please do not panic. Experts are on the way to help you acclimatise to our cultu-- sir? You should not be drinking a second can of beer so quickly, who knows what effect it will have on your sys-- I don't think you need to do two at once..." Signas sighs, giving up.

The aviator finishes his third beer in 30 seconds and tosses the can away. "Now look 'ere ya big bloke, I am an airman of His Majesty's Royal Air Force! Nothing you say can faze me! I've been in a lot of scraps, and no fancy number's going to keep /me/ down." His scarf flutters dramatically as he places his hands on his hips. "Not CAPTAIN GUSS A. REMMINGTON, III!"

Lumine nods, and doesn't take offense as humans can't help being underevolved and obsolete life forms, and Lumine is understanding and even tolerant of that fact when it suits. Lumine holds the pilot's wrist reassuringly giving him a hand out of the freezer.

"I'm the third reason, most assuredly." Lumine chuckles impolitely, and it then blown back, literally enough by the Captain's bombastic gusto that the Director retreats, floating back rapidly to stand behind Signas. "And apparently not any iceboxes either, How did you end up frozen? If you don't mind us asking Captain Remington... The third."

"Now /there's/ a doozy of a story!" the pilot replies, wiping his chin with a jacket sleeve. "Now there I was, plane down behind enemy lines, surrounded by Fritz! It looked like there would be no way out until this dame with gams longer than her eyes were deep showed me an escape route. So we battled our way through the Fritz goons with their lugers and what-not, ghastly stuff." He reaches for another beer and Signas subtly pushes the shelf just out of reach.

"Fascinating tale, sir. Could you please sit down, you may be suffering from Temporal Shock Syndrome." Signas pulls a crate up and gestures to it helpfully. The airman gestures to Signas but it is not helpfully at all.

Lumine smiles agreeably as the Captain tells his story, Lumine seems interested, nodding at all the right places and greasing the story telling wheels just enough to really make the rapidly refreshing cryogenic recovery victim's acquaintance. Lumine claps its hands excitedly, "Lugers! You don't say, what a marvellous bit of antiquity, those. But surely you must be tired, Signas is right, he just wants to assure you general health."

Lumine engages in parlour tricks, using a black energy ball to summon another sixpack of marmite beer from the shelf. Two cans are removed from the ring, the remains hang from the orbiting ball. Lumine smiles and is about to crack the beverage open, and then pauses, as if suddenly remembering something, "Oh could you hold this for a second please?" He asks placing the can into the man's hand and pressing it into his grip with a friendly shake.

Lumine falls to the floor spinning about 180 degrees, and with a twisting sound, like sound itself being torn out of this reality and somewhere off into the void a vorpal blade cuts through the air, a visible absence of space. The Maverick reverses direction and rises with a full 360 severing the man's head at the neck. And it flips up into the air in a graceful arc celebrated by festive foaming arterial spray.

"Nice one Signas, now he won't keep and I have to run home."

"Lumine please do not give him any more alcoho--" Signas stops. The blood flies into the air, then rains down on Signas, Lumine, and the store in general. People finally start to scream and panic, running for the doors. The Diplomat is already in motion, surging through the arterial spray with a dark look in his eyes.

"I was hoping this day would not come," he says through gritted teeth, pulling back his arm and forming a fist. "But in my fuel pump, I always knew it would. Lumine, it is time for you to stop."

He doesn't say stop /what/. Stop moving? Stop being evil? Stop... living? It doesn't matter any more. The Rubicon has been crossed. There is no turning back. "To think I nearly JOINED you."

Signas' massive fist flashes towards the diminutive Director, with every intent of taking ITS head right off too.

You strike Lumine with a solid hit from your Blockbuster attack.

Lumine is indignant, grabbing the severed melon out of the air and shaking its head at Signas, completely unable to comprehend what all the fuss is about. "I'm paying the three quid -" Lumine gasps, a bit of glass cannon at times, the Maverick is thrown back into the freezer door into the grasping flailing arms of the Captain, the concussive force of Signas' blow see the door slam shut after them.

"It doesn't have to be like that Signas." Lumine says reassuringly, the frosty discoloration of the door coupled with the obscuring grasp of the refreezing corpse makes it difficult to tell, but the Morningstar's colours have shifted to Lilac and . Lumine beams as it raises the L-Buster "Thanks for the help! I really do appreciate it!" then the weapon FLASHes (aaah aaaaaaaaaaah!) and makes it's trademark noise.

Lumine strikes you with a glancing hit from its Time Stopper attack for 0 units of damage.

Signas is temporarily disoriented by Lumine's Time Stopper attack.

"I thought you had changed, 'Director'!" Signas says, in a rare display of emotion. "I DEFENDED you to the Hunters! I BELIEVED you COULD change!" His glowing fist cools off, steaming as he withdraws it, already moving to contain Lumine inside the freezer, until the Interpol units he called can arrive. Don't act. REact.

"You do not just kill a man. You ESPECIALLY do not just kill a miracle." The Diplomat is about to slam his hands into either side of the freezer, effectively locking it shut, when he sees the change come over Lumine. "Flash Man!" he whispers urgently. "When did you--"

Time stops. For Signas, at least. And for the rest of Harvey's Discount Marmite Emporium. Even the droplets of blood, still falling through the air, pause in their inexorable descent. Nothing can stand against the power of the Original Master of Time.

Lumine drops below sight in the shadows of the freezer. After a moment door opens and Lumine hops out quickly shutting it on the unbalanced corpse inside. It continues to smile at Signas as the L-Buster continues to glow with charging energies. Limbs splayed suddenly with a cheerful giggle, Lumine is up and making eye contact with Signas where we find the robot engaging in a habit that's been rather addictive.

Fully aware that being stopped in time renders the moments that tranpire around it a myster to the encapsulated foe, Lumine ever the padagogue, makes no exception for Signas. "When do I do anything, Signas, after it's allready too late for you!"

Lumine begins to laugh and throws its weapon arm towards the Diplomat with enough force to drag its small frame towards it in the moments before the Copy Shot is fired and Signas' time is restored, Lumine gaining access to his DNA while the repercussions of which leave him still stunned and helpless.

"Don't worry about our friend here, I'm sure he'll want to see you again!" The Director calls and darts out, and suren enough without paying the 3 quid.

Lumine strikes you with a glancing hit from its Copy Shot attack for 8 units of damage.

Lumine drains energy from you.

Signas is temporarily disoriented by Lumine's Copy Shot attack.

Lumine has emulated your current armor form.

Some time later, time returns to Signas. Blood splashes to the ground, followed by Captain Guss A. Remmington, III's lifeless, headless body. And then, Signas, wide eyed and drained, falls to his knees. The goods rattle on their shelves, and some cans tumble loudly to the floor. Screaming returns to the Emporium's airspace, but Signas simply remains where he is, staring at the blood on his hands. Both literally and figuratively. His internal systems alert him to what has happens, and his hands curl into fists.

Moments later, Interpol finally arrives. Too late. But with the original Time Stopper in Lumine's hands, it will always be too late. The defrosted, murdered WWII airman's body is claimed by Interpol's science division. And Signas... regains his composure. For the fourth and last time tonight.