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It took Tres Horny Boys to get the Director out of her office. Brad bribed them, of course, as their natural proclivities toward causing chaos had warred against their fear of actually crossing the Director. It had taken an offer to skip the occupational safety training (granted, Brad had never been able to do much in that presentation besides issue reminders to avoid dangerous activities like jumping off a train - which they’d already done, and Magnus twice at that) and four gold star stickers apiece to sway them.
But it had worked, and between Taako’s transmuting Magnus into an exceptionally overexcited golden retriever and Merle’s summoning of some vines, they’d drawn the Director out of her office.
Even so, Brad probably doesn’t have a whole lot of time before she returns, which means it’s time to get started. And time to burn some spell slots.
“What... the fuck?” The Director says in her most deadpan voice. She’s stopped a few feet away from the door to her office, to stare at Brad’s creation. Well, what of his creation she can see.
It’s to the Director’s credit that she doesn’t cover her nose when faced with Stinking Cloud; she might be far enough to avoid a Con save, but Brad can smell the awful stench even from his more distant hiding spot.
The Director bangs the butt of her staff onto the floor, the echo of the hit quickly covered by the sound of air rushing as a wind quickly disperses the foul gas.
Well. He hadn’t expected that one to be particularly effective at hindering the Director. Just at hiding what is underneath.
Specifically, a giant crocodile. Surrounded by half a dozen equally oversized musical instruments, including a full grand piano. And of course the crocodile isn’t simply sitting against the door to the Director’s office. No, that’s been completely obscured, hidden in a small section of swamp (and perhaps behind another spell or two). Upon being spotted, the crocodile slams a heavy foot onto the keys of the piano with a jangle and an ominous wooden creak.
The Director blinks, but her expression remains unchanged. Which is more of a reaction than Brad had expected, if he’s being entirely honest. “Bradshaw. What are you expecting to happen now?” She asks suddenly, gravitas in every word. Brad, still very much invisible, says nothing. He knows that she knows that he would be the only one to try this. Also, the musical instruments were kind of a giveaway. “I see.”
The crocodile moves its other clawed limbs to the different instruments (drum, accordion, and banjo), its tail to a harpsichord, and its snout to the bagpipes, and begins to play a jaunty, cacophonous, and remarkably distracting tune. The Director actually chuckles at that, and Brad himself grins. “Well done, Bradburn.”
And then she casts True Sight. Well, Brad had always known that was a possibility, he thinks with a sigh.
And what she sees is this: the crocodile, like the swamp, is pure illusion. The instruments are real, but not as such, animated pieces of furniture only Seeming to be the instruments whose music still echoes through the enormous hall despite their illusory nature. Beneath all that, the door to her office, closed, locked, and no doubt glowing from Brad’s spellwork.
She ponders a few moments, and this is why Brad had layered his spells in such a way. No doubt she can dispel them all, and easily at that, but Brad’s cast enough of them at high enough levels to make it a nuisance.
“Are you at least going to come out to watch, Braddock? You know that I know you’re there, and I know that you’re rather curious to see what happens next. And I know that you know that with the puzzle you’ve presented, I don’t care to waste a spell slot either dispelling your invisibility spell or Magic Missile-ing your ass.”
It’s as guaranteed an offer as he can get. Brad drops the invisibility and steps out from behind his pillar. She raises her staff, acknowledging him, before returning to the problem at hand. Sensing that things are about to begin, Brad has the crocodile change key. The Director snorts.
The swamp is the first thing to go, easily dispelled.
Then she does cast Magic Missile, as a level 4 spell, each glowing dart smashing into the instruments with brutal efficiency, the music ending with the snapping of wood as musical instruments become broken furniture, splinters scattering in all directions. The Director shields the pair of them from the debris handily.
The crocodile manages a mournful look and some crocodile tears before it too vanishes.
The Director strides forward and reaches for the door, spelled to look like plain wall but easily visible through True Sight, despite Brad’s casting Guards and Wards, and the click of the door unlocking echoes as she casts Knock. The Director opens the door to her office and steps through, Brad following after.
The Director’s eyes, weary and wary, blink in surprise at the realization that she’s stepped into her bedroom.
“Baller trick, Bradley.”
Well, she still hasn’t bubbled him, so at least there’s that.
“Madame Director, please.”
“Teleportation portal on the door?” She turns back to him.
“...Yes, ma’am. But Madame Director-”
“I’d appreciate returning to my office now.” She raises one elegant eyebrow expectantly.
“Madame Director, when’s the last time you slept?”
She blinks, again surprised. “What?”
“By my count, you haven’t actually had a full night’s rest in two weeks. That’s... well, that’s just plain unhealthy, ma’am. To say nothing of your appalling eating habits. Before Taako started cooking after coming back with the Temporal Chalice, I can count the number of times I’d seen you eat a full meal on one hand. Mostly just that trail mix with pistachios with the shells still on! You’re the leader of the Bureau, and we need you in, in good shape.” Brad pauses to take a breath and see how she reacts, readying his next line of arguments.
“You’re right.”
“I’m- what?” Brad cuts himself off in confusion, half certain he misheard her.
“You’re right. There’s... there’s precious little I can do at this moment. And it’s all going to come down to them, to my- to the Reclaimers. And I can’t make sure they’re ready for W- whatever comes next if I grind all of us, myself included, to dust before we even get there. So. You’re right. What do you suggest?”
“Oh- uh- well-“ Brad stammers, frankly not having expected to get this far. “Take a nap?”
She smiles, leaning on her staff and relaxing the smallest degree. “Excellent suggestion, Bradford.”
“Yes. Good. I’ll be going then. I’ll... thank you, ma’am.”
“Nah. Thank you, Brad.”
Brad closes the door behind him, before sagging against it. A nap actually sounds like a great idea.
There’s the sound of a distant crash that is no doubt in some way attributable to Tres Horny Boys. Okay, fixing that first, then nap.