Nevi absentmindedly flips through the itinerary. "Hopefully this pure genius is worth relying on. Will this tracker know if she's actually asleep, or just in her room?"
"I can also make it monitor her vitals. A nano-injection might be ideal so she can't just leave it behind. Hm. This might take a while, I should get to work."
Markus moves from the rest of you, shifting to a room by himself.
Muttering is heard from beyond the door, then scent of sulfur herald the heavy footsteps as Māmōn re-enters the fold.
The towering demon flashes a shark-like smile;
"Better. Much better... Our elusive Nevidomyy does raise an interesting point. We do lean heavily on Crackerjack's demented acuity at this juncture. Rest assured we will all have our part to play..."
[b"We should get a map of the air ducts as well."[/b] She says with the firm conviction that she's adding to the conversation. "I saw that in a movie once. The guy with the goggles could go anywhere in the air ducts."
After a few more minutes of deliberation, the large TV in the room flickers to life. Fluorescent green polygons dance across the screen, then form a sharp-featured face. It begins to speak in a thin, distorted voice.
"Greetings. This is a message for the infamous Crackerjack. And yes, I know you're in this room. Those portals of yours create a very distinctive pattern in the fabric of spacetime. Quite easy to track...for those who know what to look for. Fortunately for you, I alone am privy to such knowledge, and I have no intention of spreading it or hindering your plans."
The face makes a smug, angular grin.
"But where are my manners? I am Sylph. I have heard quite a lot about you, Crackerjack, and I believe we could both benefit from an alliance. The two of us, and whatever minions you may have gathered for this heist of yours, could make wonderful things happen."
The face becomes serious again.
"That is, of course, assuming that all the rumors about you are true. Consider this an aptitude test, of sorts. Pull off the heist, in whatever Crackerjack-esque way you see fit, and I will contact you again. Otherwise...well, I don't waste my time with failures."
"Either way, I will be watching closely, and I'm sure it will be quite entertaining. Goodbye."
The TV turns off.
At the televillian's challenge, Māmōn looks toward Crackerjack, infernal eyes narrowing at the estwhile lunatek;
"Minions... Hah... Quite."
The demon smiles maliciously then looks to the others;
"So who or what is this Sylph? The name is not familiar to my time on this earth... Lazarus have you heard of her? Princess you perhaps have heard tale? Anyone know of this entity?"
[ooc]That's the only think I have that might know somebody. She doesn't interact with the real world a lot.[/dice]
She can't help herself. She begins chuckling and then laughing. "Minions. She called all of you minions."
Based on her connection to the magical world, Caravalle knows that a "sylph" is a mythological being - an invisible spirit of the air.
As for what that has to do with polygonal faces talking through TV screens, she couldn't say.
Crackerjack cracks a smile.
"See? Now that person has a flair for the dramatic! And a deeper understanding of our dynamic than some of you."
Nevi wonders if the name sounds familiar.
Nevi has never heard of this person.
Nevi shrugs. "Does not ring of bell."
Māmōn brow remains furrowed by he nods with a devilish smile;
"Of course dear Lazarus. We cannot allow Crackerjack's sponsor to derail our intentions..."
The demon flexes his claws, then focusses on the task at hand;
"If the Princess can get me close to those whose minds may be made... malleable to cause, then I'm sure I can convince them to assist us... The trick will be shrouding my infernal form to those weak mortals eyes..."
Without the distractions and interruptions for a moment, Crackerjack closes his eyes and then opens them, a device appearing between his hands in a flash, and a smile on his face.
The device consists of a wristwatch-like device, akin to an Apple Watch or similar in appearance.
"I can attune this watch to the biometrics of anyone on the planet! In this case, our dear Gemstar. BEHOLD!" he announces dramatically, hitting a button on it, with Gemstar's lifesigns and location popping up.
The device makes a pleasing tone, indicating a successful connection.
Gemstar is currently healthy and awake. Her location is three stories above you.
The Princess looks at Māmōn. She holds up her hands to optically measure the enormous demon. She makes some figures on the hotel notepad.
"It's simple, we just need 150 pounds of plaster! We can make you look like a statue. It would totally work."
Her brow furrows for a second, and then she turns to the big guy, "You can hold your breath for like three hours, right?"
As the Princesses left field solution Māmōn merely narrows his glowing eyes in frustrated thought;
Vacuous. And deluded...
He forces a smile;
"3 hours is a mere trifling my dear. Alas however this is a gathering of precious stone aficionados, not some fantasy convention. I shall mingle in my mortal flesh if disguising my infernal form is beyond your powers of illusion...
Crackerjack appraises Caravelle in a new light.
"Perhaps there is a brain in there after all! Could you imagine the panache this would add to the caper? Mamon, disguised as a gargoyle, working his magic on everyone at the event. Then, when it's time and everyone has been lulled into a false sense of security, he bursts forth! Plaster flying everywhere, an immense roar of suppressed rage terrifying the guests! It would be GLORIOUS! Though perhaps not the BEST fit for this particular job, I INSIST we work this into our next heist."
She looks at Crackerjack approvingly, "See? it's a great idea. But if you insist, I can shroud you in illusion."
Lazarus will look for an edge of town gem store someplace that the group could hit tonight.
There's a small jewelry store on the outskirts of town, but you have no way of knowing what kind of security it has.
"Yes, more distance is better. Cut diamonds are generally marked, you see. We want to steal uncut diamonds and then cut them ourselves."
At the Princess' suggestion Māmōn smiles and throws his clawed hands up in a mock display of declination;
"No please. Let us make a statue of me, and have these weak-willed chattel worship at my feet..."
Continuing to flash his needle teeth in a rictous leer, the hulking demon continues;
... It is somewhat ahead of schedule for the glorious End of Days but no matter!"
As the others conjugate their plan the infernal brute drags his black talons across the table, scouring its surface;
"Whatever turns the greater profit. Whatever makes this endeavour run smoother... I entrust those more versed in heists and the art of thievery to guide our collective hands..."
"I can, of course, manufacture some diamonds instead. They would be indistinguishable from the real thing."
"A second heist would be a good dry run, however."
Māmōn looks briefly up from scratching infernal symbols upon the worktop.
"My dear Lazarus... I am merely the hellish muscle in this nefarious endeavour. The logic, planning and advice on where the most uncut diamonds reside are surely the forte of your other minions... yes?"
The demon eyes the assembled crooks with a jaundiced look;
"I'm sure such information would be freely available at such a convention... Mortals fat with self importance and grandeur oft require little cajoling to impart their knowledge..."
Crackerjack can indeed create diamonds. Visually, they would be indistinguishable from the real thing. However, they would only be about as hard as steel.
As long as someone doesn't try to use your diamonds to cut something, that shouldn't be a problem...right?
At Lazarus' request for discretion the demon eyes the numerous infernal symbols carved into rooms surfaces by his clawed fingers;
"Somewhat late for that dear boy. Let them find me... They will kneel in defeat or perish attempting victory..."
Crackerjack creates some diamonds, with Science!
You've been given a number that will call someone to the room to "discreetly transport your products to a secure location."
A few minutes after you call the number, there is a knock at the door. Outside stands a man in his early 20s with a covered push-cart.
"Hello! Are you ready for me to deliver your goods?"
Princess Caravalle begins to exude her aura of majesty on the young man...
...and nothing happens.
"Whenever you're ready." The man smiles artificially.
She looks upset at the man for not immediately bowing and going into a number about how beautiful she is.
"You! They send us you?! Those incompetent fools don't know how to handle valuable merchandise. I was told they would send someone from security. Somebody armed. And dangerous too! Don't forget dangerous. Go away right now and get them to fix this mistake
With that she slams the door on the poor boy.
"Ma'am, I am fully qualified to-"
That's as far as he gets before the door is slammed in his face. You hear an annoyed sigh, followed by the *squeak* *squeak* of the cart's wheels fading into the distance.
A few more minutes pass, and a security guard arrives at your door. He is wearing a bulletproof security vest, has a pistol holstered at his hip, and looks older and more experienced than the other guy.
"Ready?" he asks gruffly.
Caravalle works her magic once more...
This time, the spell takes hold. The man's body begins to shake uncontrollably, as sparkles of light appear around him. Then, with a *POOF*, he is engulfed in a puff of pink smoke.
When the smoke clears, the security guard has been transformed into a royal courtier. His vest has turned into a brightly colored tunic; his gun has been replaced with a jewel-encrusted rapier and scabbard; and his stoic frown has become a nauseatingly cheerful grin.
He turns to Caravalle and bows gracefully.
"Greetings, my lady! You are looking as radiant as ever! How may I serve you on this wonderful, wonderful day?"
"Ah, that's more like it." she says now that the world has stopped being strange and is closer to working normally. "Tell me everything you know of the secure location for the diamonds. You will also answer the questions of these fine lords and lady as well."
"Oh, the safe, the safe!"
He strides confidently into the room, and the door closes on its own. An unseen orchestra plays a cheerful melody, while the courtier leaps onto the table and begins to sing.
The safe, the safe, with treasures galore!
Pride of our wondrous show!
And if you wish to see what it stores,
You need only go below!
Down, down, to its underground lair,
The basement level, you see!
But the enchanted lifts won't take you there,
Unless you have the key!
With a dramatic flourish, he pulls an elevator key out of his pocket.
Then down the hall, two lefts and a right,
You'll find the door to the safe! Yes!
But the numerical lock presents quite a plight,
And don't even try to guess!
The code's one-oh-one-three today,
But changes at midnight!
We get the new code at the start of each day,
And swear to keep our lips tight!
I beg you not to delay, Your Grace,
For the guards will notice I've vanished!
Go claim your riches, and do it with haste,
Or into a cell you'll be banished!
The orchestra finishes its song, and the courtier gives another bow as he steps down from the table.