I'm only Elsewhere for a moment, barely long enough for me to even realize what the ubiquitous pressure around me means.  Before I can hastily un-Vanish myself, the pressure disappears of its own accord and I settle onto some sort of platform, round and only about a yard across.  I'm standing upright, but I wobble precariously...I'm still in skating tights and my feet slide a bit when I "land" on the smooth surface, plus I can't use my arms to balance because of the straitjacket.

The platform is surrounded by a white curtain that hangs from a metal ring a couple feet above my head, though it's fairly dark and I can't tell what's holding the ring itself up.  Just when I've managed to regain my balance and carefully straighten up, the ring drops, allowing me to see my surroundings for the first time, which are nothing like the stage I'd half-expected to see.

It's hard to make out details...even without the curtain, the room is still quite dark, lit only by a dozen or so candles standing haphazardly on various surfaces.  And furthermore everything's a bit blurry, because I'm not wearing my glasses.  The walls, the floor, even the ceiling, appear to be made of cut stone blocks.  A collection of obvious torture devices line the walls...whips, stocks, an actual iron maiden.  There's a large bed off to the left, red satin sheets glistening in the candlelight.

I'm in a freaking dungeon.

My heart skips a couple beats, but I'm not actually as panicked as I ought to be.  For one, the dungeon seems a bit...theatrical.  Even as blurry as my vision is, it feels like someone put it together based on what the stereotypical evil dungeon is supposed to look like.  Additionally, there are discordant elements here and there.  On a table next to the bed is what I'm pretty sure is a perfectly normal half-empty plastic water bottle.  Another table holds a pair of glass tanks.  The larger one has an electric heat lamp above it, and from the motion inside, I'm guessing contains a large snake, maybe a python, along with the sort of fiddly things people decorate snake tanks with.  The tank next to it is smaller, but I can't quite make out what's inside...something yellowish?  But definitely moving.  The bed in particular gives the room a much more boudoir vibe than genuine torture-chamber.  Finally, there's no sign of any people here but me.  Which makes me wonder about the platform and the curtain...could magic automate an Open Conjure?  It worries me a little, wondering what criteria I might have matched, in my current state of "dress".  But as weird as it all is, I decide it's okay to indulge my curiosity a bit, since it seems safe for the moment, and I can just Vanish and go home whenever I want.  Plus, there are so many pointy things hanging from the walls, I might be able to use something to get me out of the damn jacket, and solve the original problem.

I step down from the platform and gingerly make my way towards the nearest wall, squinting to try to spot anything I might bump into otherwise.  Even considering skating tights are thicker than the normal sort, the floor doesn't feel as cold as stone should...I'm guessing it must be poured resin or something, like they use at amusement parks?  I see an ornate stand-mirror and angle towards it.  I turn around, then crane my neck over my shoulder to get a view of my back in the reflection.  The jacket has standard buckles, only three straps, plus the lower strap...the pressure of which I'm finding it increasingly hard to ignore despite my best efforts...and the arm straps, buckled together.  I'd been a little worried it'd be some elaborate dozen-buckle job, or there'd be locks, or come to think of it even no fasteners at all, considering I hadn't had to put it on in the conventional way.  But what I see should be doable, even considering the straps are all pulled as tightly as possible.  All I really need is to get my arms loose and I can quick-change the rest away.

I start a couple of abortive efforts with corners of metal items, but the way they hang loose on the wall prevents me from getting the proper leverage to do much of anything with them.  I approach the iron maiden, which on close examination seems quite genuine, and its weight is anchoring it firmly to the floor.  I turn my back to the open door and try to pick out the buckles on the jacket with one of the long spikes affixed to the inner walls of the metal coffin.  It's slow work, even after I pause to reduce my personal gravity a bit.  To properly align the closest spike, I have to either stand on my tip-toes or crouch slightly, either way while arching my back as much as I can and twisting my neck back and around so I can barely see what I'm doing out of the corner of one eye.

After at least ten minutes of grunting and swearing, and two quite different but equally intense forms of frustration, I finally manage to get the arm straps unbuckled.

"Ahhhh..." I take a moment to stretch my arms and shoulders and use the sleeve of the jacket to wipe away the sweat on my face.  At the sound of slow clapping, I freeze, then look around for the source, a bit frantically.

I can't find it until a figure rises into the light out of a dark shadow in one corner of the room.  There must've been a chair there, and from the combination of darkness and nearsightedness, I'd missed it and the person in it who'd apparently been watching me all this time.

"That was...quite a show," comes a low feminine voice from the figure.  As she grows nearer, I can make out long white hair swinging across her back as she walks, a black silk dress outlining slim curves.  "Not the traditional escape method, but no less stimulating to watch."

A small part of me wants to banter right back with some casual quip, but the overwhelming majority that remains is screaming in panic for me to Vanish immediately or sooner if possible, so I do that instead.  Which is to say, I try to Vanish.

Nothing happens, except it feels like I ran my face into a closed door.

Nevertheless, I try again, and a third time for good measure, but with no better result.  By now the woman is close enough that I can make out her face, which is pretty...but in a harsh, angular way, as if her cheekbones might scratch glass.

"I mean you no harm for the moment, so please try to relax.  I must presume from all that eye-squeezing and face-scrunching that you've discovered you're unable to re-enter the Void, in any case?"  The truth of her statement...plus the fact that she'd included 'for the moment'...makes it a bit difficult for me to follow her suggestion, even if I wanted to.  I wave my hands from my forehead to my waist, leaving glasses on my face in their wake, along with an abbreviated black leather jacket in place of the straitjacket.  Looking quickly around, now that I can properly see, I spot stairs climbing out of the room in another dark corner and bolt towards them, awkwardly hopping a bit at first to wave sneakers onto my feet as I run.

I take the stairs two at a time as they curve upwards in a half-turn.  A normal-looking door with a knob sits at the top, and I twist it desperately, but it doesn't turn.  I try to Vanish again, and fail, then examine the edges of the door.  It's exceptionally well-fitted, so even if I could flatten myself in the right orientation to slip through, there's no gap to aim for.

I swear quietly.

There's no sign of her following me up the stairs.  But why should she?  She clearly knows I'm trapped, that I have to come back down eventually.  I wonder if I'd known what's-her-name Council lady's door trick, if that would've been blocked too?  In any case, presumably Frostylocks down there was responsible for the Conjure that brought me here, and even if she'd wanted someone looking like I did when I showed up, I certainly don't have to stay that way.  I run my hands down myself and now I'm decked out in black body armor...Dark Knight style, but somehow segmented in a way that keeps it flexible, like carbon-fiber dragon scales.  I'm not sure what the limits of the Quick Change I got may be, but I'm thinking it's by far the most useful magic I've learned.

I walk slowly back down the stairs, trying to feel as much like a bad-ass as I look, but my entrance goes unnoticed at first.  The woman is sitting on the table, drumming her fingernails on the snake's tank.  For some reason, it makes me think of those signs they always have at zoos and pet stores about not tapping the glass and for a moment I wonder why you're not supposed to.  Oh, and I can see now that the yellow color in the smaller tank came from that shredded bedding stuff you put in hamster cages, but the movement is about a dozen white mice...oh.  Ew.

I wonder why I'm focusing on these minor details...probably just putting off yet another conversation I don't feel prepared for.  I suppose she could just be looking for a 'playmate', though I don't think my own curious experiments have remotely qualified me for quite the level of kinkiness the surroundings would imply.  But even if it is somehow 'innocent', which I'm having trouble believing, standing around waiting isn't likely to help.

"So.  What did you want with me?" I finally manage to ask.  She slowly moves her attention from the snake back to me, and for a moment it makes me feel like there are two snakes on that table.  There's no indication that she even notices my change of wardrobe, so level is her gaze.

"Just to talk, for the moment."  I wonder if getting around the air-twisting thing is really as simple as adding 'for the moment' to everything and just 'changing your mind' afterwards?  Seems cheap, if it is.  "I'm trying to find someone," she continues.

"Ok?  I think you want a 'Seer' for that...which I'm not, as it happens."  The woman smiles thinly.

"Seers are often reluctant to track the kind of...individual I'm looking for.  It can be difficult, even dangerous.  But I've nonetheless tried that route already, and it hasn't borne much fruit.  I'm taking a more indirect approach now."  I frown.  This lady definitely has 'creepy' down pat, but the lack of overt threat is making me feel more bold.

"Still not seeing how I fit in here..."

"By the Conjuration parameters I specified, the fact that you've arrived here means you've definitely interacted with the individual in question, and your aura suggests it was probably recently.  I am hoping you might be able to help me find her."

"Not without a bit more to go on.  Can you give me a name?  A description?  Something?"  She looks at me for a moment, and I get the distinct impression she's weighing precisely how much insolence she wants to tolerate.  I abandon my attempt at a bad-ass persona and try to force a more helpful expression onto my face.

"A physical description is problematic...she wears many forms.  But she is known in certain circles as Taob."  She watches me expectantly.

"Sorry, that doesn't ring any bells.  Like, at all.  What kind of name is that?"  The name really didn't sound familiar, but the way she'd said it gave me a peculiar chill.

"An old one.  She would be someone you've spent at least an hour with, no more than...I would say a week ago, based on your aura.  She would have had a notable presence, regardless of her form, or name."  I swallow as I start to get an inkling what sort of an individual this woman is looking for.

"And when you find her, what then?"

"I shall resume my devotions to her, having passed this latest trial."  She said it like it was natural, obvious...the way I might say "I'll make breakfast", if someone asked me what I'd do after buying skim milk, bananas and Oreos.

I begin to sweat a little, some from anxiety, but also because my ersatz Nolan-esque Batgirl outfit doesn't seem to breathe very well.  Someone with a really old name who 'wears many forms', has a presence and who she wants to give devotions to...it seems uncomfortably obvious that she's talking about a demon.  Which makes her, I guess, a demon-worshipper...or, what, demon-devotee?  On top of that, there's only one woman I can think of that I've met in the past week that comes anywhere close to her description.  But I mentally swerve away from the thought like I'm trying not to run over a groundhog on I-80.

She can't be.  Ok, yes, she did a very bad thing to me, but it wasn't entirely bad...I mean...it could've been worse?  And she did let me go... Plus, shouldn't those Council people have been able to tell if it was her?

Maybe not.  That Julia had been able to give them the slip, twice, suggested they certainly weren't infallible, or that Julia was a lot more capable than they expected.  Maybe a clever demon could slide under the radar somehow.  But weren't they supposed to make other people do bad things?  That part still didn't make a lot of sense, because though they said I'd been influenced too, I really didn't seem to have done anything as a result, unless helping Julie with her bootleg-imprinting scheme counted as bad?  But that could really be chalked entirely up to the Binding.  Plus, Frostylocks might be jumping to conclusions based on misinterpreted data...

"I...I don't think I can help.  The only person I can think of that might fit...she just can't be a...the individual you're looking for.  Besides, you should know, people from the Council checked me out, and they said that I was influenced, but also that they thought it was spreading from person to person...like it was contagious?  So maybe I haven't actually met this Taob, you know?"  The woman frowns at me for a moment, then shakes her head.

"The Councils of most cities are foolish children playing games, and their lackies are even less.  They are wrong...the blessings of freedom cannot be shared in that way.  And you have met Taob, of that I am certain.  Who is the person you spoke of?  Describe her."  I hesitate.  I really don't owe Julia anything...and even if this lady is as crazy as she seems, it sounds like she wouldn't want to hurt her or anything...

"She's about my height, but thinner.  Short red hair, feathered at the sides, green eyes.  Very pretty...when she laughs she gets these dimples that are just..."  I notice what I'm saying and close my eyes, but that just means my imagination conjures up an even more vivid image of her face.  But it flickers between beautiful, dynamic, take-charge Julia, and a miserable red-cheeked girl in a hospital gown with tears in her eyes.  I hastily open my eyes to banish the image, and see the white-haired woman is leaning forward eagerly, uncomfortably close to me.

"What name did she use?"  I hesitate again before answering, taking a step backwards.

"It's just her Cloak name anyway, does it really-"

"Her name!  Now," hisses the woman, and if she'd been casually creepy before, her voice now was equal parts desire and naked threat, a combination that made my blood run cold.  But I couldn't do it...as much as Julia deserved some punishment, if this crazy witch got a hold of her and then found out she wasn't a demon...well, the gear in the dungeon might be theatrical, but it also seemed perfectly functional, some potentially lethal.

"I don't remember, Tiffany, may-" I realize my mistake immediately, I'd just blurted out the first thing that came to mind, but I can see my own words twisting the air, and like a snake striking, the woman makes a pinching and looping motion with her hand.  Though there's nothing there, it feels like she's put a cord around my neck, and she's pulling it upward with surprising strength.  I cough and totter, my toes all that are keeping me from choking completely.

"Do.  Not.  Lie.  To.  Me.  Again."  Each word is icy, and punctuated with a jerk from her hand that increases the pressure on my neck.  "Tell me her name."  As far as I know, I've never looked into the eyes of a killer or an insane person before, but I'm certain that I'm doing both of those things at this moment, my guts are alive with fear and panic.

Just say it, it doesn't matter, just say it, say it, say it...  The desperate words in my head almost sound like Julia's, but I reject them automatically.

"Go to Hell," I manage to gasp out.  Now wait, just wait, have to time it just right...

As I'd both hoped and feared, my words provoke another jerk upwards, viciously strong.  So wild was her anger, it might have even been strong enough to break my neck, if I hadn't, at that exact moment, desperately cut off gravity's hold on me completely.  It still hurts a lot, wrenching my neck, but rather than separating my vertebra the vindictive pull flings me straight upwards.  Caught off-guard, the twisted air slips out of her fingers when I rise high enough for my neck to pull it upwards, my body spinning around like a balloon in a stiff breeze.  I feel my sneakers hit the ceiling and at the same moment I realize I'm directly above her.

With a single mad impulse, I push off with my legs as hard as I can, restore all my gravity, and extend my arms above my head towards her, carbon-fiber plated gauntlets clenched into fists.

"The enemy's gate is down, bitch!"

The white-haired woman stares up at me in shock and fury but has barely opened her mouth when my fists connect with her face in a terribly satisfying crunch, smashing downward with all my weight and then some.  But that's as far ahead as my inspiration had planned, and I realize I'm still falling, headfirst.  I cancel my gravity again but that doesn't do anything about my existing momentum, and my shoulder glances into her chest as she's crumpling, making me carom a bit to the side.  I try to cover my head with my arms, but I crash into the table first, a wave of pain and nausea filling my head as it impacts the surface.

I'm dimly aware of bouncing off again at a strange angle, my gravity still gone, and the sound of breaking glass trails off into foggy darkness.