Left For Bread

Left For Bread
Date of Scene:	13 June 2013
Location:	Manhattan
Synopsis:	BEWARE! I BAKE!
Cast of Characters:	Mercade Alexander, Mad Madame Mim, Cirra Constantine, Myla Mason

---

Mad Madame Mim has posed:
Dateline -- Southern Manhattan!

Cooking School in Chaos!

Beware. Here come the--

Muffins of Murder!

--- A peaceful evening is rent asunder when a substitute teacher in a local community college turns the tables on earnest Sous-chefs to be when the food they are cooking turns and attempts to devour the cooks.

Many a hefty splat is heard as muffins collide with several security guards, the students, and one extremely confused janitor who proves to be a deadly foe against the battered and gooey hordes.

The numbers and the odds are low, and the group is forced into a general retreat by combat croissants and irate cinnamon rolls. The jaded emergency response personnel, though rattled by the additions of other worlds to their list (posted up on a handy wall) of situations to actually take seriously, do not see combat muffins on the list. (A momentary oversight) and their pleas for aid are tactfully avoided as burnt pastries, eyes aflame with vengeance for their scorching, roll and bounce around corners and down long corridors in pursuit of their fleeing quarry.

Outside the community center all would be quiet until an explosion of custard cream, followed by the heady cackle of it's summoner inside the room would leak from one of the windows facing a rather grisly parking lot. Yellow cream drips down the sides of the walls as a gurgling roar escapes the window open to the summer heat.

When the cooking school students reach the edge of safety, they find themselves locked into the school. So there is a pounding and yollering greatly muffled from the street as they pound on the doors and someone looks for an extuinguisher or perhaps a really sturdy chair.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
The call goes out: MUFINS ARE TERRORIZING MANHATTAN!

And Will is nowhere to be found. Therefore, Mercade Alexander, leader of the Twilight Detective agency, rushes towards the scene of the crime! A window shatters, giving the people the chance to escape through it as Mercade Alexander /dramatically/ lands inside the building. "All right, I hear tell there a problem /dangerous amounts of pastry/ here." Mercade reaches meaningfully for his coat as he looks for the next offensive baked good.

Myla Mason has posed:
Myla Mason has been wandering the world in search of not answers but in search of material. Manhattan while a world that seems to have little to no magic. Still was a source of a lot of base materials for her planned project. At the very least they had some version of mognet here so she'd been grabbing local apps, enterainment material. Several local movies had proven wildy enteraing for her. Her style of dress had got some looks but hey that's fine at least untill something strange had happend as she was passing a community center when there's and explion of foody goodness.

"What in the worlds is this?!"

She looks over to Mercade and looks the PI over for a moment.

"This seems to be the case...I think we better do soemthing about it."

She'a also pretty darn hungry too...

Mad Madame Mim has posed:
Action> Escape through the window! The cooking students start to make their way back down to the ground level (hey. Cooking jackets are reasonable enough material to make a rope from? Right? Right?! AHH-- Duck that ECLAIR!)

There is another gloopy roar from inside the community center and a swarm of burnt dinner rolls come around the corner, having made their way into the outside world by another route.

Dinner Rolls the size of a man's head and scorched along the edges bounce and flake in a swarm of ten to fifteen. They'd almost look delicious if not for the flaming eyes above each of the warm, slightly spongy middles which open to reveal crusty jaws.

The swarm rolls slowly to a stop as they come into range of the detective and the levitani.

WARNING --- CRITICAL AMOUNTS oF PASTRY DETECTED. Wave 1: Vengeful Dinner Rolls!

Mercade Alexander has posed:
The student book it. Just as well, what were they possibly going to say? Mercade turns, looking to Myla and shrugging at the chaos. "I have no idea, but one thing's for sure, if we don't deal with this there won't be any..."

He pauses dramatically,

"...Sweet ending."

Fate thus tempted, Mercade dramatically flourishes at the arrival of the dinner rolls of DOOM, pulling his gun and leveling it at the bready batallion. They'll be no match for his leaden justice! Unfortunately, that's right when an eclair explodes, coating his front in sticky, curdled custard. The hammer comes down on the bullet with a harmless 'splorch'.

Mercade looks down at the gun. And then back to the malevolent rolls. "Well, <goosehonk>." SMASH CUT to Mercade vaulting over a table as the rolls chase after him, the custerdy Mercade lunging for the nearest weapon available: a rolling pin and a day old baguette of French Bread. "BACK! BACK YOU MONSTERS!" Mercade cries as he jabs with the rolling pin, going Florentine with the bread in the other hand.

Cirra Constantine has posed:
A click and a whirr and Cirra constantine ascends, gracefully to the window on some sort of batgrapple line like contraption. She very carefully steps through the window and down to the floor. She is wearing a black pair of woman's pants and white blouse. Her right hand and arm is splinted however.

"Mercade. You said it would be /pacefull/...those are dinner rolls." she says flatly.

"Why are dinner rolls attempting to eat people?"

Mercade Alexander has posed:
"I'm inclined to blame someone making Magnusson cook." Mercade replies.

A beat. "Or an evil wizard."

Another beat. "My money's on Magnusson."

Myla Mason has posed:
Myla Mason has this urge to pull her goggles down and go yeah but she manages to not give into such a base and silly urge. "All righy ou want some of this? It's bad for you that I'm hungry!" She's now sees the dinner rolls and attemps well? to grab one wait what the heck they have jaws. Also exploding pastries soon she's pretty much splattered.. She's now going for her gun but she realises it will get gummes ip so out comes the boot knife, darn it where's the butter?! And she lunches at them.

"This is not a normal thing! I do not know this Magnusson but I have a feeling you are correct."

Mad Madame Mim has posed:
Mercade / Myla> You were covered by the ECLAIR!

Beware. The Muffinswarm is trained on you! Fate thus getting out some popcorn and watching the festivities, another swarm trains on Mercade while the Dinner Rolls all turn their burning eyes in his direction at once.

The smaller but much more populous swarm is harder to pick out in the evening gloom, only audible by the rustle of cupcake wrappers and a distinctive gooey grumbling. The beady red cherry eyes of creamy cupcakes, their glistening teeth more white than any frosting all stare with hungry ferocity at the detective.

A dinner roll makes a play for the knees, crusted teeeth extended to bite and chomping down on the bread instead. It holds on tight, growling and gnawing on the french bread as it glares at Mercade. Several others roll forwards, bumping into his ankles and being battered away by the rolling pin, soft flaky undersides exposed as they lay twitching and flopping. Another rolls forwards the throws itself, Plan 9 in outer place style with a floating jerky string motion towards his chest.

Another question to ask would be --why is there custard leaking out of the window? Because inside the community college, a tendril of yellow cream reaches out to try and snag the leg of Cirra Constantine.

The muffinswarm attacks Myla in a cupcake wrapped group of gnawing teeth.

Cirra Constantine has posed:
"Magnusson." Cirra purses her lips. The swarms commence and Cirra kicks a muffin, and by kick I mean KICK the muffin down the hall. "This is grocery mistreatment of food." she frowns, so much frowningin.

Then the tendril of custard snags her legs and pulls her over with a whumnp. "uhg!" she grunts and kicks at the tendril with her heel. "This is hardly my last stand. Let...Go!"

Myla Mason has posed:
Myla Mason is splattered by the ECLAIR and the horde comes onwards. She looks left and right as the creature comes to eat what should be eating them. Myla moves quickly stomping on some of the creatures but she calls out. "Look the window it's got to be coming from in there!" She calls out well then comes muffins terrible horrible muffins gnawing at her. Some she'll swat others get the point of her knife which is proving wildy ineffective but she's now heading for hte window even as she's threaten to have her bread baked by the swarm! If she can some how reach it she's going to try to force the window open!

Mercade Alexander has posed:
"You must be new around here!" Mercade calls to Myla. He shakes the baguette, trying to keep them from consuming it. "They're cannibal breads!?!" He yells before he asides, "Welcome to Manhattan! Enjoy your stay!"

This is about when a dinner roll spins towards his chest, making the Million Dollar Man sound as it hits him and knocks him over! The rolls, sensing a moment of weakness, swarm for him... But he brings up a baking sheet, barely catching them before they gnaw on his tender fleshmeats. "This is such a reversal." Mercade grouses... And then he turns, batting one roll back before flinging it at the custard like a Frisbee! "Cirra! Don't get wrapped up! We knead to keep moving or we're going to be in trouble!" Mercade scrambles forwards, trying to stay ahead of the doom pastries as he grabs for Myla and Cirra and dragging them along.

"The source of this has to be somewhere! If we keep fighting like this we're going to get run down!"

Mad Madame Mim has posed:
Cirra> SWARM KICK -- 4 AP
HEEL STOMP -- 6 AP
PRICE of seeing evil pastry splatter against down a wall from the sheer force of pun-propelled kickass? PRICELESS.

The tendril smears all over her legs but a wisecrack propelled baking sheet severs it as it makes another attack lunge. Myla> FORCE WINDOW Interrupted! The swarms of dinner rolls and Dire Muffins chase after the stalwart adventurers (There may even be Yakkity Sax playing in the background) and a brisk enforced stroll around the grounds reveals the most obvious culprit.

Custard is starting to leak slowly from a window in the second floor where it struggles through the smaller cracks. There are several windows to either side that are sugarfree and likely to entry points close enough to the source of the confectionary peril to be treacherous, but not far enough away to be immediately hounded by any roaming pastries still within the building.

Cirra Constantine has posed:
Cirra's leg is freed and she's pulled along by Mercade, "Bad arm! Bad arm!" She grabs hod with her good hand and pulls herself up using Mercade as ladder. "Up there!" She point to the second story window.

THen picks up pair of tongs to graps a dinner roll that was barreling for Mayla's head.

"Do not truffle with me, pastry!" and throws it against t ewall.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
"Ooops! Sorry!" Mercade yells, cursing to himself to be more attentive to Cirra's broken arm. He backs ups against the all, hunching over to let Cirra and Myla use him as a platform to get up to the second floor window as he grabs for a spatula to try to fend off the endless horde of deliciousness. "God, where's Will when you /need/ him?" Mercade sighs. "He'd have this solved in minutes!"

Myla Mason has posed:
Myla Mason says "I see it! Let's go! We are going to get pasted if we just keep mixing it up down here. I don't know about you but I have no intent ot roll over."

Cirra to the escue as well. She gives up on the knife for now returning it to her boot as she spys something with more reach a wisk and spatcula which she snags and starts trying to fend the treats off!

"You know this almost makes me want to give up food like this!"



"Hey lets go for the windows on the side we should be able to get in there.

"Sleeping I'll bet!"

She's heard of Will apprently and she's now taking the wisk;'s handles in her teeth why? She's gong to need at least one hand free to abuve the terrain to bound up to the window. She manges to get a perch on some of the lower terrain and out comes a grappling dvice and away she goes up the side of the building to one of the non infested windows!

Mad Madame Mim has posed:
It flattens across the wall and truffles you no more.

Meanwhile, rollin' along are the dinner roll swarm, blazing eyes scorching the ground as they ramble and skitter across the turf with a sound like crackling paper. The whispery hush of the muffinswarm continues afterwards, splattering themselves across the wall and grounds when failed lunges plunge them to their chocolately doom.

<MINIMAP: Community College, 2nd floor. Classroom 1401> Orange. Orange is the color of the plastic chairs and the wallpaper and the carpet. It's a slightly nauseous orange, worn down by the shuffling feet of the masses.

Myla crashes into the empty room with aplomb and from any of the rooms nearest to the custard smear, there can be heard a faint singing. A lovely woman's voice is crooning something sweet and sincere, but the lyrics can't actually be made out from this distance. There is no immediate sign of the crusted hoards,l who even battered, knifed or whisked, continue to throw themselves against the walls and roam around in small discontent packs looking for easier prey.

The classrooms are all set up the same way, with a green door at one end, a whiteboard (with or without scribbles) the orange plastic desk/chairs and a clock proclaiming the hour in dull digital red.

Cirra Constantine has posed:
"In a box." Cirra adds. "Sleeping in a box." she succesfully hops up and grabs the window ledge with her good arm and pulls herself up - her upper body strength is flat out amazing. Once inside she leans out the window to pull Mercade up with her good arm.

"Roving bands of baked goods? I'm sure he'd have it licked in an instant." she says it with a straight face.

Myla Mason has posed:
Myla Mason crahses into the room and gets her bearings. She can hear a woman singing and now goes to see what's going on? Someone's in trouble or are they the source. Either way the person seems to be here and she's going to try to find her way to them. She gets out her whisk again and heads towards the source of the voice calling out.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

She moves to attempt to get to the source which the song seems to be coming from, or is near by to.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
"He's a hobo, he's /always/ leeping in a box! When he's not eating!" Mercade yells. The pair get up into to the second floor, and Mercade is left at the reat, desperately ACTIVE PARRYING the oncoming breadites. "WHO KNEW THAT BREAD COULD DO SO MUCH DAMAGE?!" Mercade yells, looking worse for wear as the malevolent muffinry shows its mandibular menace. Moments before he is run down, he leaps upwards and grabs onto the edge of the window himself, pulling himself up and in.

SECOND FLOOR. ROUND 2. BITE.

He looks to the pair, noting the singing, even as he nods and begins working his way across the area towards the inevitable cookery doom. "Let's cut to the chase." Mercade says.

Mad Madame Mim has posed:
In one of the rooms down the hall is an open door through which the sound of music is filtering. Also, past the all too sugary smell of the custard is a tantalizing otherness. It resolves itself into the smell of bacon as the singing is punctuated by the occasional slurpy gurgle from the custardbeast.

Inside the small but relatively well appointed kitchen lab is a pretty woman with long purple hair decorated by a neat chef's hat. The outfit is almost blindingly white, sleeves of her chef's jacket rolled up as she happily cooks at one of the stations with a overlarge skillet.

There are several small canisters of different spices, flours and additives around her that she shakes onto the skillet. The custardbeast in the room is a vaguely humanoid shaped glob of pastry, a dusted sugar hide frequently breaking and reforming with custard tendrils leaking out of the cracks. It moans softly, gooey eyesockets blazing with the same fire as the scorched breadites

~/Bacon Bacon pancakes, makin' bacon pancakes,~/ sings the woman in a jaunty tone as she looks up from her cooking.

~//take some bacon and I'll put it in a pancake, bacon pancakes, that's what its going to make, Bacon pancaaaaaaaaake ---~/ and so forth.

Cirra Constantine has posed:
Cirra looks back and forth in the room. At the woman making bacon pancakes, the custard monster in the far corner and frowns.

She picks up a skilett.

"I'll keep the other produce from spoiling this." and heads into the hallway again.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
"Stop, in the name of the culinary arts!" Mercade exclaims as he bursts into the room, brandishing spatula in hand. "You..." He pauses, sniffing. "Oooh, bacon." He then coughs, and then looks over at the Doom Custard. "And you! Yes. What's going on here? Your custardness is making the entire campus go up in an infestation of brazen bread! What is the meaning of this?"

Myla Mason has posed:
Myla Mason enters at the same time as Mercade does with brave Cirra heading off to cover their back. She holds her wisk and spatchula. She is dual weilding at this point she not beholds the kitchen that is the source of this place. She stares for a moment trying to figure out what's going on here. She looks at all the source4s of pastry and she's about to say something but Mercade beat her on the entrace and she's left a bit suprised for a moment.

"You have been cooking up trouble for everyone the devilish deserts have been attempting to eat us!"

Mad Madame Mim has posed:
The lady looks up from her cooking and looks at Myla and then at Mercade with some vague interest. "Come. Come! Have some pancakes, dear." she points at the skillet and it continues to flip and to cook things while she takes her hands away to clap.

"Ooh. Goody! I was /so/ hoping to see some appreciators of the culinary arts. Oh-- people are so /dull/ sometimes. There is only so many variations of -run away- AHH Scream before it starts to become derivative." she gestures to chairs while going back to making her bacon pancakes.

"And of course they would try to eat you. This IS combat baking 101. I did make that very clear in the intro lecture. Sadly, I think it quite went in one ear and out the other." she laughs, and it's a wicked and ugly sound that jars with the pretty picture. "Ah, but SURPRISE is always an essential element of cooking." That said, the custardbeast ROARS and lashes out several tendrils to try and enmesh Mercade and Myla, lashing out for Myla's legs and Mercade's arms.

Two Heroes. Shake Well.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
"You seem... familiar somehow." Mercade says, squinting at the woman.

And then everything goes to Hell's Kitchen. "Well, yes, there's the running and screaming, and then screaming and running. I do suppose you have a poi-AAAAAAH!" Mercade yells as he is yanked into the air and shaken. He tries to use his spatula to defend himself, but poking the crusty outside of the custardbeast gets nothing more than a tak-tak noise. "You've been overcarmelized, you giant creme brulee!" Mercade yells. He's been paying attention to Max recently.

In response, the custard chomps, and half the spatula disappears. Mercade yells in a high-pitched tone as he struggles heroically against the evil goop. "Your arms are free! Do something!" He calls to Myla, hoping she has some kind of awesome plan, because this is a sticky situation.

Myla Mason has posed:
Myla Mason pauses combat baking? She just stares for a moment the young sear going spell slinger is a bit suprised for a moment. Myla's caught by the tendrils catch her, she goes down had but her arms are still lose. She's got aplan oh she's totally got a plan in the vien of mighty pirates such as Jack Sparrow. PANIC, wait no she actually has a plan.

"... I think I got something. Ever see what happens, when you use too much water?"

She's now chanting something it's not a tongue that Mercade would know, would Mad Madame Mim know? who knows but what is clearl the girl is casting a spell of some sort and she now starts trying to turn the water in Custardbeast against it, to free Mercade. She's going to attempt o over hydrade it to the point the tendridls will lose cohesion.

Mad Madame Mim has posed:
She walks over to Mercade as he pokes and swipes at the crusty Creme Brulee of Doom. The woman squints at him very hard, then raises her eyebrows. "Oh." she says after a long pause. "Pfft. Another one." she wrinkles her nose and then laughs. "My my. You're still rather undercooked and unseasoned, I fear." she makes a long face of regret before attempting to blow a cloud of pepper smoke(?) into Mercade's face.

That look of smug amusement turns into towering rage as Myla starts chanting. "YOU!" she screams in an ugly snarl. "DIDN'T you ever hear about too many cooks in a kitchen?!" she swipes at Myla's face and something invisible tries to reach down into her mouth and stop her from speaking.

It's too late though and the custardbeast sags noticably as it's composition becomes too runny, the over hydration making it slump in on itself and sideways like a deflating balloon.

"CRITICS!" she howls in a hurry. "FOOD MANGLERS!" she suddenly does not look very pretty at all, a number of piranha like Bacon Pancakes rising from the pan ominously as the custardbeast starts to dissolve. As it does, it lashes out the larger pastry claws, staggering forwards and lumbering towards them as it starts to fall apart.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
"What's that supposed to mean?!" Mercade says, moments before he chokes on the cloud of pepper. "Aaa... aaaACHOOOO!" Mercade sneezes proliferously, disabling him as the custard beast is about to have a midnight snack...

When Myla saves the day! The water frees Mercade, allowing him to break free of the soggy custard and fall back. He collapses back into a pantry, still sneezing... Before he bursts free with a loud whirring noise.

"Now I have a blender." Mercade announces with a grin, holding the shredding implement forward and brandishing it as he sets it to puree. "Ho ho ho."

He starts catching incoming pancakes as he comes in, as he charges the custard. "HYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Mercade yells as he dodges /forward/, leaping past the claws as he drives the blender down towards the 'head' of the custard! Will he make it, or will the power plug reach its limit? FIND OUT NEXT POSE!

Myla Mason has posed:
Myla Mason is not a critic she likes food, it's just food that is trying to kill her she has a problem with.

"Too many cooks ruin the fish! I know! My mother said it all the time!"

She's caught and finds she's unable to chant more but the damage has been done. She makes a muffled noise of angery and she aims to throw the whisk with great skill at Mad Madame Mim trying to catch her in the head with it.

She leaps back and still has her spatchula and she turns to face the best as it's coming towards her. She finds she can talk again.

"Got any ideas i'm all out Mercade!"

She's not going to be able to cast again for a little bit longer...

Mad Madame Mim has posed:
VVVVVVVVRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR---phoo.

The Custardbeast flails in the grasp of the mighty blender but the blades jam as it tries to sluggishly chop through the outer flaky deliciousness. Enough damage is done to mangle one eye, the light going out as the flaky pastry claw tries to Squuuuuish Mercade into Detective-Grade Jelly. The claw sags.

The angry old woman stops her feet, getting even more pissed as a whisk rebounds off her head with a 'clong' "You RUFFIANS. You made this mess. Now you CLEAN IT UP!"

And now a cleaning closet explodes with mops, brushes, brooms and dustpans that continue to assault the pair even as the woman vanishes in a poof of smoke.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
WILL IT BLEND?

Not.... quite. Mercade looks really into it as he blends at the custard until he hears the motor give out. "Ugh." He says. "Cheap community college tools." He mutters to himself, before the saggy squishy claw catches him on the side and sends him smashing into a wall. He groans for a moment, shaking his head as he tries to regain his senses... The sudden addition of a mop to the face helps. He wrestles with it, grunting as he yells to Myla. "Quick! Wash this thing down before we're goop for!"

Yeah, he's reaching. Blame it on the lack of a balanced breakfast.

Myla Mason has posed:
Myla Mason looks at Mercade "Nice work with the combat cooking Mercade." $E$E She looks at mad Madame Mim "Uhuh, so how about you clean up the mess you made and head on your way home?"

Well she goes home then comes the mops and Mickey is nowhere around to bring them to heel at this point. She atats trying to beat them off she starts to chant again even as she's buffed by dust pans, mops, brooms and SWIFERS, oh lord those get caught in her long hair! She does finish chanting and a surge of water will be directed at the horde hopefully breaking the enchantments Mad Madam Mim put on them.

Mad Madame Mim has posed:
SPOOOOOLSH:

Thank you. Your Adventure Has Now Reached the Water-ride part of the experience. Caution. You WILL get wet.

Assorted mops and brushes are flushed away along with the soggy remnants of the custardbeast, it and the rest flowing away in the deluge of water.

There is a rather damp and soggy silence that falls afterwards.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
Mercade is very, very soggy. He looks up, taking off his dripping hat and letting the water and custard wash out from inside with a sort of morose expression. "Well, that was... an experience." Mercade says. He looks over to Myla and sighs. "Well... We'd best report what happened and help with cleanup." Mercade says. "We helped make the mess, we have to help clean it." He squishes to his feet, and holds out a hand to Myla. "Mercade Alexander, of the Twilight Detective Agency. A pleasure to meet you, miss..."

Mad Madame Mim has posed:
AFTERMATH:

Local police authorities responding to the disturbance are.. to put it lightly.. confused by the accounts given by the cooking school students and college security. They did however insist that the woman, a substitute teacher Ms. M. Mym was the one responsible for the disturbance.

The 'disturbance' (Which has been put on the 911 'take seriously despite the crazy' list) was later classified as An Illegal Use of school Equipment, Destruction of Property and general assault. (One Officer tried to work Assault with A Deadly Pastry into the report, but couldn't make it stick.)

The cleanup does take some time, several batches of inert bakery goods found as far as several blocks away and locked up for later disposal. As to the woman, there was no immediate sign and little hope of catching the magic user until she appeared again.