Carla
Sunday 5/4/70 10:53:00

"Noise....noise...noise...oh, that was not anything at all. I have just had to shoot a devil rat. No reason to become alarmed."
A devil rat?!? Carla had never even SEEN a devil rat, and could not imagine one in their upscale neighbor, much less in their house.

Carla
Sunday 5/8/70 10:53:10

"Um...don't you think you should dispose of it?" Carla suggested, "You don't want that thing lying around in your study - you'll catch whatever diseases are crawling around on it."

From the other side of the house, Carla was momentarily distracted by the sound of the showerhead briefly sputtering - she had forgotten that her mother was back.

"By the way, when did Ma get home?"

Gregory
Monday 4/28/70 17:37:09

"Where is she? Where are they?" Greg messaged to Marsden and made a beeline for his car for the second time that day. He was in a strange state: his body running in overdrive as his mind was caving in on itself. He wanted to collapse but he knew that he had to see his wife while she was still ... she was ... he had to see her now.

He topped the stairs still coated in gore and wandered abentmindedly throught the rushing office. He needed ... But the kids needed him too. No, he'd see her first -- maybe only her, but they were protected and safe for now. She needed him ... she had to need him ... she was.

Greg's comm announced a return message from Jordan which set an ARO pointing at St. Sebastian on the Cross Hospital. George passed the information along to his autonav and sat fidgeting in his chair with his mind running in fragmented circles, his chest feeling increasingly hollow but heavy and his eyes clouding.

Gregory
Monday 4/28/70 18:00:00

Greg fought off a swarm of orderlies who were trying to usher him into the ER. It would have taken too much time to explain that the blood wasn't his own. Finally, he flashed a CIA badge and yelled something incoherent about official business before forcefully ripping Ana's room number out of the crying wreck of the nearest nurse.

In sharp contrast to the hectic rush he had fought through reaching the room, Ana's room was dead silent. Even the EEG and ECG were silenced and off. Neither their nodes nor their physical screens were showing any movement -- everything in here was dead.

But Ana was still as full of beauty as she had been when she kissed him goodbye this morning. Greg fell into one of the barren chairs on the side of the room and dropped his head into his hands, finally crying unabashedly. He looked up through the tears at her perfect form and felt mana charging around him, he grabbed her shoulders as healing energy poured out of him and wrapped around her empty body. Green cords banded around her then faded into her skin once, twice, and a third time. He finally fell against the bed, huge blisters bleeding on his arms, blood pouring out of his nose and tears leaking out his eyes as the stims finally died and he fell into a mercifully deep sleep.

Electra
Saturday 5/10/70 15:57:40

Electra pauses, as if to collect her thoughts. She looks down, then looks into the eyes of the man accross from her. When she begins talking her voice is calm, and neutral, as if she were a lecturer at a university rather than a frightened prisoner.

"...At the time of the bombing I was with my acting group practicing the play you mentioned earlier. You can ask any of them this, and as long as they are under no duress I would be surprised if they said otherwise. Before then I had never bothered to go to the Tate, and after the bombing I went to see what was happening. I trod in... on... somebody... a bit... Well, I kind of panicked and started puking. The rest of my group left when the ambulence men came, and I had to tell them to leave me alone, I was so out of it. I eventually snapped out of it, got home, and shortly afterwards my door was booted in and I ended up here.

You said you knew I was at the Tate. Well barring mind control and mind wipe magic I know I was not, leaving the options that either somebody who looked like me was in the Tate, with the express intention of setting me up, or a successful, and frankly, very good actress, who has no reason to bear a grudge against her country suddenly decide to peform a public and violent act of terror wearing her own face.

Give me a few minutes in makeup and I can pull off a good impression of most women I know, why would I choose to do whatever your guys think I did looking and acting like me? I can think of no reason why I would want to be made suspect so easily.

I believe that the police are still taught to search for motive, means, and opportunity. Motive? Why the Tate? There are more public, more easily accessed landmarks that a random act of terror would have far more effect on the running of London. London or tower bride for example.

Therefore to me it seems that this was done for a more specific purpose. If I wanted to push an agenda, then the traditional terrorist way of doing this would be demand then bomb, or bomb then demand. I recall making no demands. Motives that would make sense are somebody looking to cover up a murder as an act of terror or somebody, with, as you said, a specific grudge against the Tate.

Means, and Opportunity are trickier. If I was somebody looking to set me up, which I assume is what is happening here, I would take the minimal effort required to get a gene sample from me, and with some good hacking, of the levels available to somebody who can get their hands on and transport that much explosives, I would fake a data trail leading to me. I don't doubt you'll find something like that.

The problem is that if I am, as you say, a terrorist, I'm not exactly behaving like one right now. I was not behaving like one when I did whatever you think I did, and I certainly was not behaving like one when I hung around the crime scene throwing up, rather than, say, legging it to another country, or at least sending a tridcast demaning I be buried facing south freedom for the Welsh, or whatever.

If I am not a terrorist, and I had some other reason for blowing up the Tate, then relying on my natural acting ability alone to get me out of the shit after the fact seems a little dumb to me. Why not use it to let somebody else take the heat?"

Electra pauses

"If on the other hand, I am an innocent citizen who just found out that she has the magical ability to remain calm under extreme pressure, and has been set up by a fairly professional, but not that good at second guessing, organisation who had some reason for wanting the Tate demolished then I can see no recourse but to behave exactly the way that I am now."

She gives an ironic smile.

"Fuck it, I reckon that you have some kind of voice stress analysis running on me. My final statement is that I am actually a marshmellow from the planet lobos, and the Tate did not in fact blow up at all, you are just imagining that as part of a faked trid broadcast. One plus one is thirty seven, I can prove it with a pen and paper. You tell me, am I lying?"

Electra
Saturday 5/10/70 15:59:10

As Electra speaks, she can see that Dashwood is listening intently, analyzing every word she says. He has keenly intelligent eyes, calculating and ruthless.
He doesn't say anything for a moment after she stops talking - again, she can tell he is reading something AR.

"Well, Ms. Spiros, you weave a compelling tale. Unfortunately, the one point you leave me in no doubt about is that our most sophisticated polygraph equipment is useless against you, and for that I applaud you. But whereas we had hoped to use said equipment to get an idea of the truthfulness of your tale, that will now no longer be an option, which complicates things somewhat for us, and moreso for yourself.
"In any case, you have somehow managed to leave one salient topic out of your little epic - the involvement and whereabouts of your accomplice, Trevor Brown."

Carla
Sunday 5/4/70 10:53:17

Her father's voice came back more quietly, as though he were speaking to himself. "The wife is here?"
Suddenly the door opened a crack, and Carla was face to face with her father. He looked a bit pale, and she noticed some flecks of black powder in his beard. The moment his eyes met hers, he cried in alarm, "YOU!!!

Warren
Friday 3/28/70 00:57:58

Warren used his long arms and good leg to get himself upright, wary all the while of the other troll. But the moment he got his head up he saw that the troll was backpedaling away from him up the firelit street, and he could see why. Around both sides of his friends' funeral pyre came two teams of five men in Los Locos colors. They formed an even firing line and advanced on him in practiced unison in a half-trot, assault rifles keeping him constantly in their sights.
He had seen a patio just a few meters away with what looked like a concrete enclosure - if he could just make it and get the damned Ingram unjammed, or get into the building. He spun on his heel and ran for all he was worth, ignoring the injury to his leg.
And then a thousand bowling balls struck him in the back and his chest and torso exploded in a red mist.


???? ??/??/??

.............................................

Gregory
Wednesday 4/30/70 16:34:09

Gregory was conscious before he opened his eyes. He laid there hoping it had all been a dream, that he would wake up in his bed next to Ana. But even as he was working up the courage to take a look, the feel of the IV in his arm, the monitor on his forefinger, the chafe of the bandages all over his body, told him it had all been real.

He opened his eyes and saw Tim. He tried to speak and that's when he realized he was tubed - they must have numbed his throat so he wouldn't feel it.

"Hey buddy. It's great to see you awake. The docs weren't sure which way you'd go. But I'm glad you came back to us...." He paused. "I guess you're wishing I'd stop bullshitting you and get to it." He took a deep breath. "Forensics says it was a ritual sending. They don't think she felt anything - just lights out - massive hemmorhaging consistent with a mana bolt. They hit her on the freeway, and the car crashed pretty bad despite the anti-collision countermeasures, but the car filled with safety foam before the kids could sustain any injuries. The Wolverine guys got the kids out. Marsden - he wanted to be here to tell you, but I sent him home - he tipped it was an astral attack right away and got back up, but when their wizboy arrived just five seconds later there was no one around....But like I said, the kids are fine. We got our own people watching 'em, and they're right in the next room. I sent for them with my comm the moment you opened your eyes, buddy - oh ho ho, here they are now," he said as two nurses, followed by two CIA men, brought Linda and Brian into the room.

Electra
Saturday 5/10/70 16.01.05

"I have no Idea where Trevor is, and if I knew I would tell you. The reason I would tell you is that I know that he is innocent, and also, unless I am very much mistaken, not immune to your polygraphs."

Electra felt senses that she did not know she had sharpening. She had sowed the seeds of doubt, and now she was going to try and reap them.

"My ability to bypass your machines is the point I was trying to make, sir. You are an intelligent man, what's the percentage in a terrorist letting you know that?"

Electra leaned forward conspiratorially, and beckoned to Dashwood so as to whisper in his ear.

Warren
????? ??/??/??

..................................................................................

Gregory
Monday 4/28/70 16:38:53

Greg did his best to react to Tim, but finding himself unable to sit up, speak, smile or even blink reliably he contented himself to lay back and listen as feet ran speedily down the hallway and the door started creaking open ...

.. And time stopped as a cruel looking viper crawled over the edge of the bed and slithered towards Greg.

Dangerous Days and Dangerous Nights
Treasure your time with earthly delights ...

"Get away from me. All you do is hurt me."

Running from yourself is harder than you know,
I'll be waiting no matter how far you go.

... and Linda bounded relentlessly into the room to give him a burningly painful hug. Apparently the blistering had gotten into his lungs this time. He grinned around the tube and held her hand as she showered him with questions:

"Are you sick?"
"Does this hurt?"
"Did you know that crash foam is a poly-carb, carbonate bi ... carb- aerogel?"

and the brutal "Where's Mommy?"

Carla
Sunday 5/4/70 10:53:40

Carla let out a startled yelp as she jumped away from the door, towards the kitchen table.

"What's wrong with you!?" she gasped. "You scared the Hell out of me!"

Indeed, Carla's first assumption was that her father had tried to scare her as some sort of practical joke. After taking a second look at him, however, she considered that there actually might be something wrong.

Gregory
Wednesday 5/1/70 15:45:32

The hospital stay had been fairly agonizing because some nanosurgery had been required to prevent scarrification of the lung tissue and because the staff mage, who had been appraised of neither Greg's occupation nor his current situiation, decided that it was his god given duty to bully Greg into refriaining from overcasting. Between painful laser sessions and listening to the snobby, jumped-up, Wisconsin farm boy drone on saying: "You knoow that the casting there was a bad idea, yah. Be like jumping off a boot in a bad starm in Lake Superior," Greg had developed a few strikingly fresh torture ideas.

But the ordeal had ended and he thought that he'd conveyed to Linda that her mother was going to be sleeping forever, so he figured the worst had to be over as he pulled back up to his house. Of course, it wasn't. He realized, as the autonav settled so comfortably into the garage that it knew and loved, that she wasn't going to be there when he opened the door. Greg froze in the driver's seat as if by waiting he could stave off the inevitable, hoping that if he held still enough would turn the world backwards.

Brian's crying snapped him back the present. The kid hated the car seat. Linda had, of course, already shuffled off her seat belt and was sprinting for the garage door in hopes of seeing her long lost teddy bear, Captain Captain. There had been at least half an hour spent trying to decipher her meaning when she first proposed the name.

Greg finished unbuckling Brian and waved to the CIA car parked unobtrusively on the street then braced himself for the trip inside.

Gregory
Sunday 5/4/70 11:09:45

It had been the worst three days of Gregory Blaine's life. All the trauma of the past week, there had been a sense of urgency that distracted him, a sense of illusion that he could make it all work out and protect his family, a sense that however bad things got he could ACT, could DO something, and above all a sense that whatever happened, he had Ana beside him. Now ALL of that was gone. He wanted to just curl into a ball and sleep forever, and he might have, but there were the kids, and Montressor was still out there.
With the nuclear threat past its climax, Eric had been great. Wolverine had done their best, but Gregory now had CIA field operatives watching his home, which had been heavily warded. Elemental patrolled inside and out. They were still winding down the terror investigation, so there was nothing to spare on a proactive investigation, but the Agency was definitely closing ranks, taking care of their own.
Gregory had spent the days caring for his kids as best he could. They were the hope that remained in his life, little mirrors of Ana. And he knew that her dying wish would be for their loving care. He couldn't show his pain to Linda, whose understanding of her mother's passing was a three steps forward, two steps back process. Thankfully, Brian had no conscious idea of what was going on, although he, too, sensed that something was missing.
But what was missing right now was food. He grabbed his comm and headed for his car, knowing the inside team could keep the kids from setting the house on fire while he was gone.
One of the outside teams tried to follow him, but he told them to stay at the house. Not good procedure, but he didn't care about himself, only the kids, and the teams were giving him a lot of leeway.
He went to the Stuffer Shack and loaded a basket with soy this and soy that, and a bottle of Jack for after the kids were asleep. He paid by comm and was headed out the door, but there was a woman there. Just standing inside the main entrance. She looked to Gregory like a street whore or something - very out of place at this time of day in this neighborhood. A stained micro-skirt a decade out of style, an old blouse knotted tight under her breasts to expose midriff, bruises all over her haphazardly shaved legs, bags under her eyes, and track marks on her arms - too pathetic even to have a jack to beetle-out with. Wouldn't even guess she could possibly be literate, but there she was reading a book - a real one, not AR. Or maybe she was reading it - she mostly just looked around, everywhere but at him, and held the book up so that the cover was clearly visible.
The title on the book was Thus Spoke the Raven - The Collected Works of Edgar Allen Poe.

Warren
??????? ??/??/??


..........{good feeling}..............{relaxed}.........{floating}.......................

Electra
Saturday 5/10/70 16:01:25

Dashwood smiled bemusedly and leaned forward with the demeanor of humoring a child, though when he straightened up again after hearing Electra's words, "Somebody out there wants you to think I did this, perhaps if you let them think they succeded you can flush them out, wanna go somewhere more private and cut a deal?" he seemed thoughtful.
After a few seconds, he asked, "What can you offer me that I cannot simply take? You may speak freely - I am master of my own house here."

Gregory
Sunday 5/4/70 11:11:21

"Where are you, you bastard. I'm going to find you and kill you," Greg shouted into the air past Montressor's meat puppet. Turning to her he warned "Get away from me and stay away from me or I will destroy you in ways you can't even imagine, and I trust that your imagination is as dirty and flexible as the rest of you," in a voice as strained as a dam holding back a tsunami.

Catching himself before he yelled he started screaming obscenties into the air he snapped his coat into place (the armor made him more comfortable) and started towards the car before the chilling idea of a car bomb crossed his mind.

Greg started the car remotely from around the corner of the building and, on seeing it run smoothly, hopped back in after a careful scan of the area and set the autonav for home, hoping that the CIA had kept everything running smoothly in his absence.

Carla
Sunday 5/4/70 10:53:50

"There is nothing wrong with me. I am perfectly fine. You should not fear me. I am your father." And it was her father's voice, though he never talked that way. And his eyes, they were an unmasked mixture of two things she had never seen in them before - fear and hatred - fixed upon her in a way that left no doubt that she was the object of both.
"You must not enter the study....The devil rat may still be dangerous. Now you must stand aside - I need to take a shower."

Carla
Sunday 5/4/70 10:54:15

Carla stood aside and carefully watched her father go. As he passed her, she was about to run off and find her mother, but her attention was caught by something strange on the back of her father's head. Though he didn't appear to be wounded himself, a mess of blood and bone was plastered over his hair. Perhaps it was the remains of the rat her father had claimed to have killed, but how did it end up on his head? Carla hesitated to ask her father about the mess; he probably already knew about it (he was going to take a shower, after all), and he seemed to be in an irritable mood. As soon as he was out of sight, she raced off in the direction of the running shower, hoping she could find her mother and ask her what was going on. When she reached the bathroom, she banged on the door and half-whispered:

"Ma! Are you in there?! We need to talk - there's something wrong with Papa."

Warren
??????? ??/??/??


It was day light out, it must have just come out after some rain because the water in the alley betwen two huge buildings was pooling towards the center and slowly flowing towards a drainage hole. Litter and trash lined the alleyway along with big green dumpsters. The walls of the buildings in the alley were covered in grafitt that was mostly letters or words, some looked like designs and pictures though it was wierd. There wasnt really any sounds except for what seemed like a mob of youth screaming at somebody to "kick his ass", "beat him up", "make him pay"

Atleast those were the details he was able to take in laying face down on the pavement. Warren pushed off the ground and stood back up. Turning he saw a group of kids all human wearing matching outfits. They all looked really angry. One of the kids was standing in front of al lthe others. "Did you enjoy your trip freak? Whats the matter cant keep your big troll feet from tripping over themselves?" There was a burst of laughter from the crowd.

Warren's fear was turning to anger as he balled his fists up as he stared down the lead human. "Ooooo look the freak wants to fight me. Come on freak try it. We are gonna cut your tusks and horns out and make necklaces out of em." The human waved a couple of people from the mob forward and they raced towards him.

As Warren tried to punch the first kid to reach him in the face his arm moved extremely slow and the kid easily dodged out of the way and punched him in the gut. Warren winced but there wasnt really any pain. The second kid came running up and was going for a haymaker punch. Warren tried to move out of the way but his body was not reacting fast enough. He could do nothing except watch the kids fist slam into his face knocking him to the ground again. Warren hit the ground and jumped back to his feet in time to see the kick aimed at his head wiz by. The other kid was gonna take his turn giving a wild punch at Warrens face but Warren with considerable effort willed his fist to try and speed up and it didnt work but his fist did punch the other kid in the face first. The kid stumbled back but immedeately charged again, he wasnt even bleeding its like his punch didnt cause any damage.............................

Electra
Saturday 5/10/70 16:02:00

"Justice? Young woman, there was very little justice for the thousand that perished today at the Tate, nor shall there ever be in this world. You speak well, but so does the evidence against you, so I am afraid the jury - by which I mean me - is still out on your guilt or innocence. But mark me, if an angel descended from heaven and told me you were a saint, I'd still not hesitate to make a martyr of you as well if I thought it could help me save the next thousand, and maintain order on behalf of the Lord Protector.
"So I ask you once again, have you anything to offer me that I cannot simply take?"

Carla
Sunday 5/4/70 10:54:25

The shower turned off. "Ma cherie? What is it? I cannot hear you."

And from behind her, Carla heard her father's voice. It was quiet but filled with tension. "Go to your room, daughter, NOW."
Turning, she saw him standing there at the entrance to the master bedroom, a chunk of brain on his shoulder.

He edged away from the door, keeping his back to the far wall, as if to let her out of the room while staying as far away from her as possible. And throughout this awkward movement, he kept his right hand behind his back.

Warren
????? ??/??/??

PAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINEVERYTHINGPAINUNIVERSEONFIREPAINPAINPAIN

Gregory
Sunday 5/4/70 11:11:32

Driving furiously away from the Stuffer Shack apparition, Gregory noticed a scrap of paper stuck under his windshield wiper. He stopped the car and got it.

11523 Amherst Place

Carla
Sunday 5/4/70 10:54:45

Carla was not used to being given such orders from her parents; though she was still financially dependent on them, she was also an adult and was accustomed to being treated as one. Irritated by her father's command, she turned her head from the bathroom door to confront him. However, something about his appearance was disturbing, alien - Carla almost felt as though she didn't recognize him. Somewhat uncomfortably, she attempted to defy her father's orders

"I - I just need to talk to Ma for a minute - I'll be out in no time, Papa."

Electra
Saturday 5/10/70 16:03:00

Electra rolls her eyes to the ceiling, and takes a deep breath, as if trying to maintain her patience. I'ts always me me me with the police...

"I'm sat here becasue you want something from me, but you will not say what because that hands the power back to me. You ask what I have that you cannot take, which implies that there is something that you have yet to take from me, and are trying to decide whether or not to try and take it forcefully.

You know I am not the average terrorist, you know I can bypass your gizmoes and gatgets, and now you look at me like a cockroach who has learned a new trick and ask me to convince you not to do horrible things to me.

Here's the punchline. I don't know what I got, and as far as I'm concerned I'm on bonus time right now. I died as soon as I went through your gate and I know it, I have made peace with my gods, and the only thing left for me now is my legacy, will I die a terrorist, or just as a sacrifice to public oppinion.

So, why don't you ask for something, or render me like meat, cos I'm out of ideas, here, chummer."

Electra sits back and relaxes.

"Or you could try outlining what you think you have on me, as I feel it bears a passing intrest to myself, noting important to you, only my life."

Gregory
Sunday 5/4/70 11:30:21

This is a bad idea ...

Greg knew it was a bad idea and the rage that had gotten him to the looming, rundown apartment complex was collapsing under him. When he'd seen that woman, that whore, that accusation holding a book, he'd been ready to topple the Earth. He would have danced the Great Ghost Dance then and there if it meant that she and Montressor would be gone.

But here he was now about to leave his children without any parents at all. There was no way this was anything but a trap and he, like a poorly controlled marionette, was dancing, staggering and lurching along with the puppeteer's grand plot. At least Tim would know what was going on -- Greg's mail account was programmed to forward a message to him in precisely three minutes from now.

He could turn back here -- but then she'd be hanging around his neck for the rest of his life. What if this was his one shot at resolution? He'd brought Ana into this mess and it fell to him to dig her out and bury her memory properly.

So Greg squared his shoulders, scanned physical for guns and astral for life and the beast spirit he'd conjured en route (who took the form of a demon snake coiled around him) and started walking into the yawning mouth in front of him with all the courage that fatalism had afforded him.

Gregory
Sunday 5/4/70 11:30:21

Taking a good look at the building, Gregory saw no signs of life - at least nothing bigger vermin. It was a bad neighborhood, mostly warehouses and light industry, with a few dilapidated residential buildings. This place had been gutted - didn't look like there was much viable structure left inside its crumbling external walls. And not enough human traffic in the area to support much in the way of squatters anyway - no one around to beg, borrow or steal from. And on Sunday, the industrial stuff was mostly deserted. Montressor couldn't have chosen a more isolated spot in the plex.
In the astral the place was equally squalid and drab. No overt signs of danger, although he got a bad feeling from the northwest corner of the building. Going closer to check it out, Gregory saw a relatively intact cement staircase descending to an external basement door. Although dirty like the rest of the building, it was clear that it was actually fairly new and sturdy, dressed up to seem as run down as its surroundings. It was heavy steel, and it was ajar.

Gregory steeled himself. He checked his weapons, gave his spirit some contingency instructions, and concentrated on his mystical defenses. He felt his senses all sharpen as adrenaline rushed into his system in response to his first steps down the stairs.

Inside it was pretty dark, but it looked like there was a big room down the corridor, and there was enough light seeping out of it that his elven eyes had no trouble with the gloom. He passed a number of doorways, all too dark inside to make much out, but something drew him onward toward the main room.

It was large. Around the periphery were a rather large collection of takeout boxes. Zooming in with his magnified vision enhancements, Gregory recognized the logos of some of the most exclusive restaurants in the area. He estimated he could make his mortgage payments for a year on what all this 5-star takeout must have cost. Someone must have been busy.

And it wasn't hard to tell with what - the entire room was filled by a giant ritual circle, carefully inscribed with a rainbow of talcs and powders made from who knew what sorts of exotic telesma. He was standing in his wife's murder weapon. And there with him, in the middle of it, was a big trid terminal. As he directed his attention to it, it sprang to life, projecting the image of Montressor.

He was a short guy, weasel-like face framed by greasy-looking black hair, wearing tall jackboots with his jeans tucked into them, and a loose-fitting white shirt, untucked. Behind him was the wall behind Gregory, this was a recording, apparently, not live.

"How delightful that you came, and alone. You really do need to see this. And I suppose you know why. Why you are still alive. Why I'm not here in person to meet you.

"You must have wondered at first -if someone was after you, why warn you? And why go to such elaborate lengths to do so? But then you read the story and it became clear, didn't it? Shall I quote?

"'I must not only punish but punish with impunity. A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes its redresser.' Up to there all were in agreement, but to me, the next bit is equally important: 'It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong.'

"Pure poetry, isn't it? It touches the heart as only the true truth can. So here I am, you sadistic shit. I killed your precious wife - a shame in some ways - she looked so good in the shower. But there'll be no more of that sort of connubial hanky-panky, now will there? Not unless you're into necrophilia - but who knows what sort of freaky things you like, considering how much you like to hurt people. Just remember that when the nights get long and lonely and your children ask for their mother - it was your toothpicks and tongs, your blades and blowtorches, nay, it was your delight in same - that was what got your Anastasia's brains scrambled into a bloody gray oatmeal.

"So now that I have revealed myself as your tormentor, and thus given meaning to this dance, you may have the false impression that by doing so I am violating the first principle - that of impunity. Surely your organization could find me, and certainly they may try. But my dear Gregory, whatever happens next, whatever further agonies I inflict upon you, never never never forget that your children still live. One move against me, one agent anywhere in the world asking about me, one hint of you or your precious CIA even thinking about coming after me, and the brats die. That's not a bluff, it's a certainty. And it won't be quick like it was for your wife.

"But this grows tedious. I expect you'll may be getting a phone call soon. So you'd best get out of here - the incendiaries will go off 15 seconds from now, and we wouldn't want you to miss the next act, now would we?"

Warren
????? ??/??/??

.............................................................

Carla
Sunday 5/4/70 10:54:50

Now cowering in the corner, as if trying to get as far away from Carla as possible, he responded to her words with a keening wail that started in his throat before erupting from a mouth twisted by a rictus of hatred. He pulled his hand out from behind his back, revealing the snub-nosed .38 revolver it held. He thrust it directly toward Carla where she stood against the bathroom door, finger on the trigger, hands quivering.

Warren
????? ??/??/??

<<Warren. Hey pal, it's Kyle. Don't try to respond. You can't anyway. Just wanted to let you know you're safe now. Really safe this time. So just rest.>>

Carla
Sunday 5/4/70 10:55:00

Carla flinched noticeably and raised her hands over her head as if she was being arrested - a reflex acquired from all the films and 'trid shows she had grown up watching. Her heart was racing and adrenaline was starting to kick in, but, realizing the delicacy of the situation, she tried to maintain some level of cool to avoid unnecessarily alarming her father.

"Um...Papa...why are you pointing a gun at me?"


Carla asked nervously, though loudly enough so that her mother might hear her through the door. She secrely hoped that her mother would take the hint and use some sort of magic spell to diffuse the situation.

Electra
Saturday 5/10/70 16:04:00

Electra did not smile, as she watched the Lord Protector leave, she did not will it. Damn, this magic thing was neat.

Oh, but Dashwood, you have already told me so much.

Electra awaited the debriefers.

16.06.00

"I know of no Terrorist by that name but I do have a lover called Trevor."

16.09.20

"Hard to say, I first saw him in the autumn after the crash, there was bugger all to do so I went to a Rugby match, you can probably look up the ticket stub in my purchase records. At the time I did not know much about rugby but Trevor caught my eye. I noticed that he moved differently to the other people on the field, and not just because of his legs. He always seemed to know where he was and where the ball was. I remember thinking...

16.11.45

"3 weeks later, the Kings Head, post match piss up. I had been drinking at the same spots he had in the hopes that he would talk to me. I had to shoot down half the team that night, until one of them got a little too insistant. A big guy built like an ork on steroids took umbridge at the fact that I was in a rugby bar and did not "get my tits out for the lads". He was getting almost as friendly as the lass with the rubber glove earlier. I was about to give a nod to the bouncers when finally Trevor grew a pair, and stepped in.

"Leave it be, Mark, she ain't interested"

The meat haystack decides to let his fists do the talking and a funny thing happened, he started beating the crap out of Trevor. Poor dear can't fight, he's a big lad, but he finds it hard to muster the hez to really hit someone you know? So anyway, after I stepped in and disabled Mark, a bit of the Florence Nightingale routine and I got Trevor to buy me a drink. I believe the body of the conversation was Trevor apologising for well, everything, while I was doing my best to put him at ease.

16.13.26

"How did lil old me disable a pissed up Rugby lad? It's not a good story, you sure you want to know? Yes, yes I can see you do. Well, I waited 'till his back was turned then sicced half the bar on him. To forestall your next question, I made sure that one of Mark's backswings caught me a glancing blow. An Italian football player impression later and the guy was a grease stain. Nice to see old fashioned values still mean something."

16.15.03

"What do I think of Trevor? Good at Rugby, good at Sex, bad at shopping, bad at fighing. Likes my cooking, backrubs, and baths, dislikes violence, shopping, and shouing.

16.15.59

"You asked what do I think, not what do I feel. What I feel is safe, trust, love."

16.18.34

Electra licks her lips, she leans forwards slightly as her cheeks flush and her breath quickens.

"Knowing him is like knowing... a truth, universal, oneness with my centre even as it is explored.

He comes to me like a kitten, he kneels on the floor and laps at the very milk of me, drinking of me drip by drip and yet leaving me more whole than I ever was even as he takes from me.

Lap.

He has my heart, and makes it race

Lap. Lap

He tastes my skin and makes me sweat.

Lap. Lap. Lap.

He drinks my voice and makes me mewl.

Lap.

He takes my sinews and pulls me tight.

When I am there... he sees me... taught, ready, drawn like a bow, and only then he sparks. From that flicker grows a fire, and from that a raging infreno whose flame burns away fear and doubt, then breath and sight, it drowns out sound and taste and smell until all there is left is sensation, a most beautiful agony."

Electra pants slighly, clearly aroused, as she examines the reactions of the interviewers.

"So, yes, in balance I feel we have a healty sex drive. Though from the look on "Mrs Smith"'s face I would guess that Mr Smith may do with a few pointers. Tell you what, I'll give you some if you can guess why the blokes sat either side of you think that crossing their legs will fool anyone.

17.23.16
"have you ever felt so safe with somebody that if they pointed a loaded gun at you, you would look them in the eye and smile as you sucked on the barrel?"

18.12.24
"Green, no, wait, grey, grey green? To be honest I can't remember."

19.06.00
"I'm getting kind of fuzzy right now, can you ask Trevor?

20.45.01
"Crest, and a half squeezed arm and hammer. Cos they were on sale, I guess."

Electra
Monday? 5/19/70? ??:??:??

Electra laid on the cot staring at the ceiling. Digesting the reasonably decent meal she had just eaten, and contemplating her observations on what it was like not to see another human or hear a human voice for over a week. She thought it was Monday morning - at least, if they hadn't jiggered the meal times to throw her off, then she had definitely just had Monday breakfast.

She thought she would go out of her mind with boredom, though other than that she couldn't call it inhumane. The food was as good or better than what most middle-class folks ate (though appalling to her own refined palette). The cell was big enough to move about in a little, and the stainless steel toilet was self-cleaning and deodorizing. They passed her a food through a little hole in the wall, along with a daily change of prison wear, but she never saw anyone.

And then they came and took her to meeting room with armchairs and incandescent light. Carpeting. Nice change. Naturally she made sassy comments to the guards, and naturally they ignored her.

Dashwood walked in and took a seat.

"Well, we've had some time now to check things out, and we believe you are innocent. It was helpful that you were so candid with us - although of course you lied to protect your criminal family, but that was easily sorted by executing all of them....Just kidding. They are actually working quite hard - both legitimately and otherwise - to arrange some sort of communication with you.

"So because I sympathize with you - especially considering what we have planned - I am going to be very truthful and open with you. You may not want to hear it, but I am going to tell you anyway. You may not want to believe it, but you're going to hear it anyway. Your Trevor was most definitely involved in the bombing, we think most likely the trigger-man, as it were. This may seem inconceivable to you, but I see it all the time. And the idea that he would frame you for it - we're not sure if he planned that or improvised it.

"Either way, I have decided to take your advice. You'll be the patsy in order to draw them out. I thought long and hard about whether to tell you that - better, perhaps, simply to act as though we were convinced of your guilt and proceed. But you are obviously as intelligent as you are beautiful, and I am convinced you would never fall for such a ruse, so it is better for all of us if we communicate about all this openly and honestly."

Warren
????? ??/??/?? ??:??:??

<<Warren - don't try to talk or move - you still can't - but the doc here said I could talk longer to you know. They've got a one-way trode-rig on you so I can talk, but they won't let me send anything but audio, that's my voice you're hearing now - they don't want to stimulate you too much. You need to rest. I got you into an underground clinic, Warren. Supposed to be real hard to find, and harder for anyone to get into. Doc Wagon was taking good care of you, but their security was, well, hospital security. They weren't counting on anyone...Um - I'll talk to you more later. The your heart rate's spiking and the docs....>>

Warren
????? ??/??/?? ??:??:??


Warren walked out of his apartment like any other day, today was DocWagon duty. His riding clothes which would protect him if he happened to fall off his bike from being chewed up by the road were so broken in now they hardly made any noise as he walked to his bike. He slipped on his helmet and climbed onto his bike. He gave it a kickstart and then activated the "radio" so he could listen to music on his way in.....

Warren usually wasnt one for feeling the need to go fast, He preferred just cruising and just becoming one with the road and his bike. He owned a crotch rocket which wasnt exactly built for cruising with its hunched over driver position but it didnt really matter, one day he would have a tricked out chopper with a huge rake in the front. For some reason though today he felt the need for speed.

Maybe it had to do with there not being any other vehicles out on the road. Before he could even contemplate why that would be he was twisting the handle that controlled the throttle and was screaming down the road. He felt light, like he was almost flying, and he seemed to be going faster. The roads were wet from a morning dew and the lights from the surrounding buildings all danced in the reflection of the road, Warren felt alive as the buildings began to blur past him.

The next time he went to look down at his bike it was gone. His helmet was gone, his bike leathers were gone. He was just flying down the road only inches off the ground and it took a few seconds for him to adjust and learn how to control his flying body. He started to climb in elevation but he still couldnt go wherever he wanted to. It seemed that there were rules he had to follow while flying. When he turned it was only where the street below him turned which let him go in circles around buildings and through alleys.

In the next instant everything was normal. Or atleast he felt the weight of his body and was running on foot normally with no real memory of what he had just been doing. Warren could feel people chasing him, he couldnt really see them but he knew they were there. He ducked into an alleyway and started sprinting but before he could stop he saw it was a deadend. Gang graffitti covered the walls along with wierd designs and symbols, there were green dumpsters lining the alley with trash overflowing from them, there were small puddles and streams of water flowing into drainage holes. It was day light out but the buildings to either side of the alley cast a shadow blocking out direct sunlight.

Then he saw a mob of what looked like teenagers, males, human. Then sounds started coming to him and he could hear them calling him names and taunting him trying to scare him, saying what they were gonna do to him. It made Warren angry and he balled his fists up, he was done running. Something about all this seemed really familiar and he wasnt really suprised when the lead human had two of his underlings attack him.

The first human who was wearing the same style of cloths as the others, muscular, with tons of jewelry in his face came charging at Warren head on trying to tackle him to the ground where his buddy would have an easy time attacking warren. As the kid through his arms out to catch Warren, Warren answered by quickly stuffing his arms under the other kids armpits(a double underhook), this let Warren use his arms to counter the kid trying to drag him to the ground by lifting him up. It was very effective and as the kid tried to regain his balance by standing up Warren slammed a knee into the kids ribcage, there was an audible snap and the kid cried out and began holding his ribs but not for long. Warren then stepped closer to the kid and slammed his elbow into the side of the kids face and down he went out cold.

The second kid who was a little skinnier than the first and had less jewelry attacked with a big looping left hand. Warren first raised his right arm up and protected the side of his head, as soon as he felt the punch hit his arm he snaked his right arm around the elbow of the kids outstretched left arm and yanked on it until there was more a crunchy sound. The kid grimaced as his arm dropped useless to his side but he tried to throw a straight right hand. Well this kids tough i will give him that. Warren raised his left arm and blocked the second punch and then warren stepped up and brought his forehead crashing down into the face of the second human. He felt blood splatter across his face and tasted it in his mouth as the kid went down.

For some reason all this violence made him feel alive. He felt..unleashed like something had been holding him back before but now it was gone. Some of the remaining kids in the mob turned and ran off much to the dismay of their leader. The leader came forward and pulled out two butterfly knives and flipping them into there ready position.

It was odd but the kid started talking to Warren but the stuff coming out of his mouth made no sense. "don't try to talk...move.. one-way... but they won't let me.......rest......... I got you........real hard to find.......counting on anyone..." And then he attacked. He got closer but didnt charge Warren like the others. He stopped just outside Warren's reach and was going to wait for him to make the first move. That was fine with Warren. He circled the kid waiting for him to make a move and when it was apparent he wasnt going to or when Warren could see in his face that he was thinking about doing something he took the initiative. As they circled each other Warren waited for the kids back to be facing a wall and when it was he shot forward and picked the kid up like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder. Warren continued to race forward and before the kid could do anything with his knives he was crushed into a wall. Warren could feel his shoulder dig deep into the kid's gut and some crunchy sounds.

The leader let out an audible "ooooof" and then Warren back up a little to let the kid drop to his feet and as Warren looked into the kids face he didnt show any sympathy. The kid was looking back into Warren face while trying to suck down air and he must not have liked what he saw because he looked scared. Warren quickly grabbed the kid by the throat and pulled him away from the wall and then with as much force as he could slammed him back into the wall. There was a loud thud and then the kid sagged to the ground leaving a bloody trail on the wall. Warren looked down and saw that the kid had pissed his pants and laughed. A feeling of ungodly satisfaction was coarsing through his entire body................

Electra
Monday 5/19/70 time: unknown

If Electra believed Dashwood she may have been more upset. As it was if Trevor was the trigger man, he must have been under some alien influence.

"If we are being honest, mr Dashwood, understand that I will not help you entrap an innocent man. That being said, if Trevor is guilty I want to know about it. Tell me more."

Gregory
Monday 5/4/70 11:30:36

Greg's teeth clenched and his fists tightened. The more the man talked the closer Greg got to ordering his snake to level this monument to his failure in protecting Ana when Montressor's shadow beat him to it:

"The incindiaries will go off 15 seconds from now ..."

Greg spun towards the door ... And time crawled again as the chalks at the center of the circle started swimming and the viper slithered into a coil at the center of the circle.

Leave for shelter of another
And leave secrets undiscovered
Stay until the blast is due
To strike the man who struck at you

... Slamming back into reality Greg checked the momentum he had for the door and sent a mental shockwave through astral space containing one word: "MOVE."

The snake spirit readily obliged manifesting and slicing through the air in front of Greg dragging him along in a wind tunnel of magical energy. The room rushed past his ears -- with a thought he was digging through the fast food containers, scraping up telesma, rifling through old clothing and grabbing the trid chip that held the damned message that brought him here.

Greg scavenged and destroyed fueled by rage and hate, absolutely indulging both, until he came to his senses. He had seconds before MOTHERFRAGGING BOMBS went off on him. He focused on the door, the stairs the exit as rooms went flying behind him until, as he stepped through the door, a huge ripping sound emanated from the basement and the doorframe started caving around him. Greg focused and he and the spirit twisted and dove as one through the narrowing door and between the gouts of flame shooting from the basement.

After lying on the ground in awe as a fine layer of sawdust and soot settled over him, Greg stood up, dusted himself off, thanked and released the mute spirit , and walked to his car composing a quick email.

<Scratch that last email Tim, the site's scrubbed and I'm going home (safe and sound)>

Warren
????? ??/??/?? ??:??:??

<<Hey buddy, Kyle again. I'm afraid you still can't respond to me, but they say the therapies they're giving you will let you communicate with me real soon now. I'm talking to you now because the docs say you are sort of conscious now, sometimes. And you have some decisions to make. The docs wanted me to decide all this stuff for you, because talking about might upset you and jeopardize your recovery. But these decisions have to be yours, pal, so I need you to start thinking about them.
The thing is, Warren, you got hurt real bad. Real bad, pal. When the Doc Wagon back up choppered in and scooped you up, I think the only reason they even bothered working on you was because you were one of them. But somehow you survived to the clinic, and they put you on life support and operated for, like, thirty hours or something. Said you'd maybe live. Maybe.
But Warren, while you were recovering, something happened. Someone put some sort of neurotoxin into your IV. Enough to kill damned elephant. I came in from the coffee room and found you in bad shape. If you hadn't already been in the hospital, they'd never have saved you. No one could believe they did anyway. You are one tough bastard, pal.
Doc Wagon was paying for things until then. But I wanted you out of there. So I got your savings, per your end of the 'just in case' instructions we went over for each other that night. Damn, I couldn't believe you'd actually saved that much of your winnings. You must be really disciplined with your money. Anyway, suffice to say there's enough there for everything you need to pay for this clinic...and more. It's the 'more' that we have to talk about.
Warren, before I continue, I am going to remind you that you're safe now, and that we have enough money for you to make a full recovery. But I have to tell you some details on that.
After those people shot you up, they shoved icepicks in your eyes and ears. Then they drove a car back and forth over you a couple of times.
You've got a lot of cred, but not enough for sufficient clonal replacement to get yourself back together. It's pretty much gotta be cyber.
Now, I know that's not what you want to here, since having cyber relegates you to the illegal pit fights. Try to just concentrate on the fact that you're going to be alive and well.
Anyway, your eyes and ears are going to have to be replaced, and so is quite a bit of your skeleton.
But then there was that neurotoxin. It pretty much destroyed your nervous system, and they're going to have to rewire all of that.
None of those four are negotiable, pal, well, except for the eyes and ears, but I assume you don't want to be blind or deaf. The question is - HOW do you want those replacements done.
What I'm saying is, they can do standard medical replacements. They can rebuild your skeleton and rewire your nerves so you're as good as new. But what I have to ask you is - as long as they're doing it anyway - and as long as you've got enough extra cred - do you want to end up BETTER than good as new?
There are a lot of options. For now just think, and in a few days we'll post an AR menu and some other information for you. That at least should help with the boredom.
Get some rest now. I got your back.>>

Electra
Monday? 5/19/70? ??:??:??

"You are full of vim and vigor, aren't you? Such talk, despite the fact that we both know I am not offering you a choice. That aside, if he is indeed not guilty, then he will not be likely to fall into a ruse to draw out the guilty party. But I assure you, he is guilty.
"In fact, we think now he was already radicalized before you met him, four years ago in 2066. I know you consider him a gentle giant type of a fellow, but many of the worst eco-radicals are fairly sensitive types. Or come across that way.
"In any case, the evidence against him his staggering. He's been on our watch list for some time, and I only regret his prioritization had been higher so that we could have paid him more attention. But now that we've narrowed our focus, things about him are becoming much more clear. The pieces falling into place.
"I am not going to catalogue our evidence for you - but ask yourself this: before he ran into your apartment the day you were arrested, did you have a sophisticated homemade detonator in your closet? And yet there it was when we searched your place. It had your fingerprints on it, and your epithelials. But your impassioned protestations got me thinking, and I had the tests run again - the epithelials were several days old, and had been magically preserved. So we went back to the drawing board, looked for prints again. The technology just keeps getting better and better. If we spend enough time and money, we can now get prints that had been wiped. And guess whose we found, both on the exterior, and on the interior components. That's right - Trevor's. Along with those of a fellow known as Stephen Cannon, a troll eco-radical very high up on the green warrior food chain.
"So here's what I propose, and if you like, you can amuse me with a counter. Keep in mind that these things take time to do properly - several months. Over this period of time, you will be presented to the public as the guilty party. You will be tried, found guilty, and executed.
"Now, you have demonstrated amazing powers of both persuasion and deception. We would appreciate your cooperation. So here's your deal. The more convinced I am that you are whole-heartedly with us on this, the more likely you are to wake up after the execution.
"Note, however, that should you open your eyes again, it will be with the understanding that you would be permanently exiled from these Isles, and that you would never put yourself in the public eye again.
"All quite generous of me, don't you think?"

Gregory
Sunday 5/4/70 11:42:08

Driving home, Gregory's comm announced an incoming call from Eric. Naturally he accepted it.
"Greg, don't talk. Go dark and receive me only." Dutifully Gregory complied, manually killing his comm's ability to transmit, and then putting it in passive mode keyed to receive only the current call. He hadn't done that since he was in the Tir with Tim. "Now use the encryption key that corresponds to the number of times you came to visit me in the hospital when I had that prostate thing." From a number of preset keys, Gregory selected number 2. "Now use every ounce of tradecraft you have to go to the park that we've never been to together but that we've always talked about meeting at for a BBQ." Gregory adjusted his course for Gore Park. "Hurry, Greg. We've gotta talk. I'm sorry, but I am afraid I may have just signed your death warrant." <<End Call>>

Electra
Monday? 5/19/70? time: unknown

Electra looks accross at Dashwood, with eyebrow raised.

"...and the funny thing is that you actually think that that is a deal I will accept. No matter how sincere you are now, there is no percentage in you not killing me the minute I am no longer of use to you, and you have proven already that you would cheerfully off me for the sake of expediency. As I am already dead in both our eyes you will have to do better than that to ensure my cooperation.

Before you think about getting cute with the thumbscrews I should mention that I am now in total control of my bodys unconscious actions, including heart rate. I can induce fatal cardiac arrest in myself with minimal effort. Any signs that life will become less pleasent than it is now, and you will get to explain that to my family.

I assure you that the Tate is the least of your worries if you give the Spiros family something to be pissed about. They have got very good at evading authority over the years, are you sure that you can get them all before something bad happens? Is it worth the effort considering the deal I am about to propose?

Electra seems to concentrate for a second. Her face becomes more animated, and her breathing rate and pulse escalate.

No tricks, now, I have voluntarily deactivated my magical edge. Here's the counter deal.

Let me speak with my family, I will convince one of them to take my place against my good faith. You let me go, and the story is that a daring raid resulted in my escape and the capture of one of the people responsible.

I go underground and find Trevor, tearfully ask him why he didn't tell me, I could have helped him, I have connections, blah blah blad and work my way up the list till I find the people responsible. Then the rest of my family step in, take them out, and send you them air freight. Number of boxes is the gentleman's choice. If Trevor really set me up then his life is non negotiable, my brothers will have to vivisect him as a matter of honor. I will gain no pleasure from it, but you can have what is leaft afterwards.

My corpse will be found a few weeks later betrayed by the very terrorists who freed me, and my family member is quietly released because at that point there is no percentage in me making a public appearence again as I am dead, and it's not worth the effort of having you pissed at me, and there is no percentage in you fucking with my family because you don't need them pissed at you.

Seem fair?"

Warren
????? ??/??/?? ??:??:??


Warren was confused, something just wasnt quite right. He could recall instances where he became aware like waking from a sleep but he couldnt hear anything and when he tried to open his eyes it didnt work, and when he tried to move his arms to remove whatever was covering his eyes it hurt to bad and he would give up. And then the voices would start. All of this flashed through his mind as soon as he realized it was happening again. But he couldnt stay focused long enough to think about what was going on.

Then the voices started. "Hey buddy, Kyle again". It sounded like god talking directly inside his head. Wait Kyle is god??, No wait God is Kyle??. He couldnt focus. If this is Kyle he has to know whats happening with me. Warren tried answering Kyle, "Help me Kyle, where am I, whats going on?". Nothing came out of his mouth though, he didnt even feel his mouth.


Warren was to tired to try and communicate so he just relaxed. The voice came again, "..................Someone put some sort of neurotoxin into your IV. Enough to kill a damned elephant................After those people shot you up, they shoved icepicks in your eyes and ears. Then they drove a car back and forth over you a couple of times......................".

A surge of adrenaline shot through Warren as the words sunk in. WHAT THE $%^&. Warren had never been so scared in his life, his heart rate excellerated like a rocket and he started to panick. He tried to move to scream to cry but all that came was more excruciating pain and then something seemed to flow over him and drag him back into the slumber from which he had awoken from.......

Gregory
Sunday 5/4/70 12:00:00

Old and hard learned instincts had taken over when Greg received the phone call. He needed crowds, smoke and mirrors so he calmly and rationally set about finding them. Ana was forgotten for the moment, he had to survive for now.

Greg been near the park when the call came through and had driven in a pair of laborious, spiralling figure eights around the nearby open air mall. After parking there he wandered through the crowds trying to spot physical or astral tails. (Cutting between the two worlds while walking discreetly was a difficult skill, but he had spent hours mastering this in Tir Na Nog. It was second nature now.) He cut into a changing room at the Mortimer's men's outlet and shut two doors. Ten seconds of intense concentration and a flare of mana later a different, younger human walked out of the second door in a crisp actioneer suit.

The young businessman strolled casually to Gore Park, eyes peeled for CIA agents or worse spooks as he made his way to the barbeque pits.

Warren
????? ??/??/?? ??:??:??

<<Warren - hey buddy - I am going to leave you that menu now. We've got a DNI set up so that you can mentally manipulate the cursor. Spend some time with it - there are fully annotated specs on everything, as well as some recommended package deals. I'll get back to you in a while, they've almost finished retuning the DNI so that you can talk - or think - to me. Then you can ask any questions you like. But you won't be able to move or access any of your meat senses until they finish all the surgeries. Just concentrate on those cyber choices for now, pal.>>

Carla
Sunday 5/4/70 10:55:05

BLAM!!! The gun went off but Carla was stunned to realize she could for a second almost see the bullet tumbling towards her throught the intervening space. Without a thought she twisted her body subtly and the bullet punched through the bathroom door behind her. BLAM!!! again, and when twisted the other way with what felt like superhuman speed and another round punched through the door.

She dove behind the bed, grabbing her mother's tennis racket. The firing never paused, a total of five rounds tracking her movements as fast as the trigger could be pulled - but miraculously none struck her. Then she heard a click and like a flash was up and out of the room.

Gregory
Sunday 5/4/70 12:10:00

As the magically masked Gregory approached the picnic area, off to the side he saw a row of small stone stools and tables with checker-board tiling, populated by men playing chess. He knew this was where Eric would be - he'd heard that back when he was a field agent one of his favorite ways to blend in was to play chess with the hustlers in the park.
Eric would also be incognito, but Gregory's astral sight quickly picked him out of the group. He appeared deeply focused on a problem, an open book on the table in front of him, discouraging offers to play. Gregory took the empy seat.
Eric - his face covered in some sort of scraggly gray beard - smiled and started setting up the pieces for a game. "Time is short - have you heard of a black bag team called Necrosis?"