Warren
Thursday 3/27/70 00:36:40

The moment he saw the baby, Warren started swapping his ammo load out for gel rounds, talking all the while - "Ray, swing this rig's ass around to their nine-o'clock so I can come out swinging with the lady lateral to my line of fire."
Nick was already ready to pop the door, and Danielle was spending the precious remaining seconds getting herself composed - she always freaked when children were involved and the doors OPENED AND WARREN was OUT and FIRING, WALKING STRAIGHT AT THE LOS LOCOS COLORSANDROOOAROFLMGTROLLFLIESBACKEXPLODINGFACE - click - Red letters flashed across Warren's field of vision Clear Firing Chamber and hyper-speed came to a grinding halt. He screamed at the other troll to put down the baby - but couldn't hear himself over the roar of automatic weapons fire butwaithisgunwasjammed -
oh no -
he realized the van was being showered with thousands of rounds and the big troll smiled and tossed the baby straight at Warren's face.

Carla
Thursday 4/17/70 09:08:40

"Well, if you were an ignorant or a stupid person, I'd ask you lot of questions to help us figure it out, but I reckon you're better informed about the how and why of these sorts of things than I am, and I can see you're not lying, so we'll leave it at that. If you don't know, you don't know - not like there ain't plenty that's unexplained in this world." Here he pauses - not savoring what he has to say next. "Now like I said, I ain't mentioned this to no one. There's enough misunderstanding and prejudice in this world, and I reckon you already got your fair share. But whatever the desk jockeys decide, I can't have you back in my hospital before this gets figured out. You understand? Nine people died last night, and we were damn lucky it wasn't more." He catches his voice rising, and forces himself to slow down - it is obvious he does not intend to be harsh. "The fact of the matter is, Ms. Sanchez, I hear about you practicing any kind of medicine or working anywhere that you are likely to be around the deceased, well, I'll have to blow the whistle on you..."

"Carla?! Are you up?" Carla's mother came into the living room - "Ooh, I see we have companee."

"Elijah Sapperstein, ma'am," the dwarf said, standing. "I was just on my way out."

But Carla's mother seemed barely to notice him - "Ma cherie, Mr. Fitzgerald has just had a call from the court. Deespite ze tres mal machinations of zat dreadful DA, a bail hearing has been set for your fazzer at ten o'clock. Change your clothes tout suite, your fazzer will want to see you right away." And she was gone. It was the first time Carla had seen her mother smile since this whole ordeal had begun 24 hours ago, and it was like a ray of sunshine - her mother was so excited at the prospect of seeing her husband - how could he or she be the ghouls they were accused of being?

Sapperstein had pulled a yarmulke from somewhere and was placing it on his head. "Well, that's my cue. After last night, I'm way overdue for Temple."

Carla
Thursday 4/17/70 09:08:40

Just before he left, Carla asked Eli for his contact information. She was going to have to investigate this shedim incident a bit and wanted to keep in touch with him for details.

Thursday 4/17/70 09:45:00

Obeying her mother's request, Carla got dressed to visit the courthouse and her father. During the subway ride to the courthouse, Carla accessed the university library from her commlink and conducted some basic research on shedim and their habits. Unfortunately, her mother desired to keep up a conversation during the ride, and Carla felt obligated to cooperate with her mother during this stressful time, so she had to make due with the distraction. For some reason, Carla was hesitant to ask her mother about the issue - she didn't want to agitate the woman any more than necessary. However, her mother was very well educated in the ways paranormal creatures, so it might be a good idea to use her as a source of information.

As the subway came to a stop, the two ladies exited the vehicle and made their way to the courthouse. After saving and closing her research, Carla decided to shift the subject of the conversation with her mother towards shedim.

"You know, Ma, there was a-...I mean I read an article about a shedim sighting where the shedim was moaning a person's name over and over again. Do you know anything about that kind of behavior?"

Gregory
Sunday 4/27/06 12:27:54

"I'm coming home right now. Just leaving the office in fact. We can talk about security when I get back, it may be a good idea but I think this will all blow over very soon. I've found everything I'm looking for except hard evidence, but that might be just a few hours away. Keep your head, I'll see you soon."

Greg swung by the physical sample archive on his way to the parking lot. It was common, though forbidden, knowledge that the lock never quite sealed itself. He slipped into the room and rifled through his backfile. There was an array of small doors each filled with a ziploc bag containing chunks of skin, flecks of dried blood and clumps of hair. Greg grabbed a particularly full one labeled with an old date and the name Raven emblazoned on the front and selected a few strands of hair that had been caked together with blood. He put these in one of the sample bags waiting next to the door and pocketed it before stealing out of the room. What he'd done wasn't strictly allowed by regulations but was common for off the book ops, he figured that he'd get away with things just fine.

Crossing the grey cubicle maze and climbing the stairs was just as dull as usual but Greg couldn't help but worry about the hairs on the back of his neck was standing up. He stepped out of the CIA with everything he needed to conduct his investigation tucked away in his fog coat. It was a good thing he was wearing the coat too, a faint drizzle had just started as he began the hike to his remotely parked car.

Gregory
Sunday 4/27/70 12:39:50

Just as Gregory was pulling his coat on tighter and heading into the rainy parking lot, a voice behind him called his name. It was his boss, Eric Reston. "Greg, I'm glad I ran into you. Listen, a coded transmission will soon be going out to all operatives and need-to-know personnel, but now I can tell you in person. The threat is confirmed, Greg. There is a device - 5-7 megatons, we think, and dirty. And we've narrowed it to the Central Atlantic Seaboard." Greg's pulse pounded - that was a fancy way of saying it was right here somewhere! His boss kept talking. "Tim says they're close, very close, to picking up someone with hard intel. Once they do, they're bringing him straight here for you - you're our best at this sort of thing, Greg, and this time the stakes are the highest. Go spend some time with your family, and stay close to your commlink."

Carla
Thursday 4/17/70 09:46:00

"Ma cherie, what a topeec to bring up at a time like thees. Let your thoughts be on your fazzer right now."

As they entered the majestic courthouse, Mr. Fitzgerald, a tall, fastidious man in his fifties, was waiting for them, having arrived just a few minutes earlier. "I am so sorry, Sophia, there is a slight delay - the DA is doing everything in his power to forestall this bail hearing...for the reasons we discussed." He tried to sound calm, but a flick of his eyes toward Carla on that last phrase was not lost on her. He continued, "I don't think it will be more than an hour. Come. I've arranged a quiet place you can wait where the media cannot harrass you."

Once they were settled into a small meeting room and Mr. Fitzgerald had gone to check on things, Carla's mother answered her question. "No, ma cherie, I have not heard of any such sing. But I can tell you zat zere are many rumors about zese demons that do not make it into ze official literature. Naturally physicians who deal wiss Awakened subjects maintain zeir own networks of information that are not so constrained by ze scientific rigor of ze journals. Eet eez true zat most of zese sings seem like ze mindless zombees, but I have heard of some zat are far more diabolical - impersonating ze deceased, stealing zeir memorees, even assuming zeir lives. Naturally zese reports are not confirmed, or you could read about zem. But why do you ask about zis? Ees eet somesing about your veesitor zis morning?"

Warren
Thursday 3/27/70 00:36:44

Without thinking Warren relinquished his grip on the now-useless weapon and caught the screaming infant, using both hands to keep from hurting it.
"Warren,throw!" shouted Danielle, and he underhanded the child to her just as the other troll's blade crashed toward him, raining down blow after blow. Warren ignored the bulky LMG as it bobbed around in confusion on the gyromount, enduring a three-second eternity of steel flashing past his eyes as his trained reflexes backstepped him away from each successive slash. As he moved farther from the van, he saw it catch fire just as Nick rolled to temporary safety. Crouched by the wreckage, Ray was speaking into his headset com with a voice that might have been discussing a children's chess tournament - "Team Two - Code Zero. Team Two - Code Zero."

Carla
Thursday 4/17/70 09:46:30

"No, Ma, the visitor this morning came to discuss a school issue," Carla half-lied. "I was just curious because I had never heard of such behavior before - I thought perhaps you knew something about it, considering your astral abilities and all."

Carla's feelings about her mother's awakened powers had gone through several stages over the years, and she still wasn't sure exactly how she felt about them. As a little girl, Carla was simply amazed by the things her mother could do, but as the years went by and Carla failed to show any signs of awakening, she grew envious of her mother's special powers. More years went by, and as Carla matured, she realized that holding a grudge against her mother was silly and childish; however, while that was what the rational part of Carla's mind told her, she wasn't sure whether or not the deeper, subconscious feelings of jealousy were still there.

Not wanting to leave her comment hanging on the subject of her mother's abilities, Carla quickly changed the subject. "Say, Ma, what reasons did Mr. Fitzgerald tell you the DA was delaying the hearing for?"

Carla
Thursday 4/17/70 09:47:00

"Oh zat. Mr. Fitzgerald ees very discreet, but he needn't be around you, ma cherie. We haff no seecrets from you. Your fazzer ees eenocent, but ze DA, hee does not agree. He sinks that by making your fazzer's arrest very public, and by keeping your fazzer in ze jail as long as posseeble, he will pressure heem to reveal some deep dark seecrets about his meesteereeous ring of organleggers. Zat once hee is in jail, the organlegger masterminds weel fear your fazzer talking about zem and try to keel heem. Knowing thees, you fazzer will have to move queeckly to reveal zem and eenjoy ze protection of ze DA. So ze DA stalls and struts, but what hee does not know ees that zere EES no mastermind, and your fazzer has no reason to hurry - except of course to return to hees family."

Gregory
Sunday 4/27/70 12:46:23

Greg froze half way across the lobby. The rain pattered off of the bank of archaic glass doors at the front of the building as Greg slowly wheeled to face Reston. His Pennsylvanian supervisor was hunched over and breathing heavily, it was a sharp contrast to his usual clean cut demeanor. Greg could smell him.

"Reston, you know I'm just a call away, but there's something I need to tell you. I'm being followed. Four times in the past 48 hours random people have mentioned the story 'The Cask of Amontillado' to me. All of them have no recollection of it, as if they were talking about it under the effects of post hypnotic suggestion. One of the people I've tortured who escaped subsequently is magically active and named himself after the main character in that story. I here to help, but unless this guy gets reigned in you might not have an interrogator."

Reston sighed heavily and ran a hand through his greasy grey hair -- he started to say something, but Greg interjected "Just get back to me, I need to get home. My family's worried about this."

As he stepped outside Greg slipped into astral for a quick scan of the area to soften his paranoia. The sky was writing, mimicking his attitude. As he looked into the astral echo of the storm he saw a single strand of astral energy rush through the clouds. He blinked as the writhing cord wheeled through the sky and rushed toward him and immediately dropped out of astral, shivering. He couldn't tell if it was from the rain.

Greg hadn't seen this before, but the astral plane had always come up with new ways to surprise and unsettle him. He shrugged and made his way to his car for the trip home.

Gregory
Sunday 4/27/70 1:33:08

Greg reconcealed the taser and the pistol as his autonav pulled him into his driveway. He walked into the house and winced as a crashing sound emanated from the kitchen.

"Linda Blaine, room, now!". This was followed by a steadily rising wail. As greg rounded the corner he saw shards of glass coated in something chunky and red. After a moments panic he recognized the Aztech-Ragu label on one of the shards and resumed breathing.

Linda was holding a tennis raquet while sitting on the floor and bawling, Ana was angrily walking towards her and Brian, recognizing that something unpleasant was happening, decided to contribute his voice to the general cacophony. Things were complicated further by the doorbell going off.

Greg swooped into action by scooping up Linda, dislodging the raquet in one smooth motion and passing her off to Ana on his way tot he door saying "I'll get it, you drop her off." He tossed the raquet and his still damp jacket into the guest coat closet by the door. As Linda's screaming left the room, Brian found less to shout about and, after giving the chaos a moment to die down, Greg opened the door.

Two men in suits with shoulder holsters waited outside. Greg almost jumped out of his skin for the second time in five minutes then remembered that Reston was sending over some plainclothes hired security men.

"Hello, I'm Marsden Jordan from Wolverine Security' the first, a tall human, said in an Australian accent. As Greg shook his hand Marsden said, I'll introduce the rest of my team later, but I'm led to understand you've got some security concerns."

"We do, please come in." Greg carfully guided them to the sitting room and placed the agents strategically to block their line of sight to the disaster in the kitchen. My wife will be out in minute to give you her side of the story, but I've been being bothered by an assortment of strangers for the past couple of days who appear to be under the influence of an .. influence spell, no pun intended. I'd really appreciate your help in keeping an eye on the neighborhood and my family until this all gets sorted out."

Ana primly walked down the stairs and wheeled onto the couch without missing a beat. Greg took his leave from her and the Australian to clean the mess in the kitchen, but on hi s way there he paused to assense the two strangers. Then busied himself with a broom, sponge and dustbin while listening, as closely as he could to the conversation.

It was pretty tame, Ana expressed some privacy concerns but said that having some people by the house and some people to patrol the neighborhood or discreetly escort people when they left the house would make her very happy. As the security company was wrapping up their dealings with his wife Greg walked back into the sitting room and escorted them to the door. before they left Greg pulled Marsden aside and said "This is the man I think is causing me trouble," while flashing the picture of Raven or at least this is what he looked like a year ago. Be careful, he's a professional."

"So are we mate, g'day."

Marsden closed the door behind him and Greg sank against it chuckling. "So, how was your morning, honey?" as Ana haphazardly sprawled on the couch.

Gregory
Sunday 4/27/70 15:35:21

It had been a long but rewarding afternoon. After the disaster that the Wolverine security types had walked in on, Greg and Ana had explained to each other exactly how stressful the day was and agreed that, in spite of the rain, things were looking up.

After that, Ana had set the cleaning drones to finishe the work Greg had started and Greg had moved his jacket back to his room and the tennis raquet to the garage. Both of them had sat down with Linda to explain why she was going to stay in her room in spite of her protests that "I wanted to go an play outside, but mommy wouldn't let me so I had to play here." And finally, once both children were settled in the couple had awkwardly squeezed onto the couch for an hours nap as rain pattered gently against the bay windows. In fact, the rain seemed to have put everyone to sleep.

It wasn't too long before Ana's rss aggregator had broken the peace and pulled her away to check on another news team's breaking story and Greg, finding the couch much less appealing without her, retreated to his study. He pushed the desk to one edge of the room and shifted his weight to one leg while holding one hand perpendicular to the center of his chest and one just below his navel. The Chinese mage at the CIA insisted this "Make ball of chi, good for magic." Greg didn't buy all of it, but it certainly did help to set his summoning in a convenient framework. Holding the position in spite of the strain on his leg, he focused on the space between his hands and let bundles of astral energy grow between them and float into the center of the room.

A few watcher spirits, an aggravating headache and a sore leg later Greg stood up, stretched himself out and ordered his small army of cloaked balls of astral force to: "find Montresor and tell me where he is."

Greg moved back nto the couch he and Ana had napped on before and reflected on how the afternoon had started ...

Gregory
Sunday 4/27/70 13:40:30

"Well, thankfully I have had your two children..."

"MY children?"

"Yes, Mr. Blaine, YOUR children have been here to keep my mind completely off whatever this problem is that you won't tell me about." She rose and gave him a hug, or rather, got a hug from him. "But I am sooo glad we have these men here with us now. Before they got here I was actually thinking of calling in sick and keeping the kids home tomorrow."

Gregory was impressed with the professional demeanor of the men he'd met, and Wolverine was a top-of-the-line premium brand. But it was obvious that to Ana they were some sort of supermen, and that all their concerns were therefore practically solved. Still, he was glad she felt reassured.

"I told them as politely as I could that I didn't think we needed them stationed INSIDE the house. They were very nice about it and assured me they would keep careful watch from outside, and also patrol the neighborhood for anything suspicious. They gave me this dedicated panic button - supposed to be almost impossible to hack or jam - and they also said that escorting us around tomorrow would be no problem. I'm really glad they're here, Greg."

Gregory
Sunday 4/27/70 14:41:20

"I aim to please," Greg said rinning as he embraced his wife. "Reston was apologetic that he couldn't get actual CIA staff on this, but he got us the best he could. These guy's know what they're doing too, cybered and confident. I'm just glad you're feeling better, you seemed a bit frazzled when I called."

"Just a little," she said and kissed him. "lets get to work."

Gregory
Sunday 4/27/70 6:38:54

Greg dozed for an hour before hunger rolled him off the couch and into the kitchen. He decided that after a stressful day that his family deserved a good meal. One properly formed data query later reveled that the fridge contained a lot of leftovers and the ingredients necessary for a good chili. He fired up the crockpot and left is AI in charge of preventing the concoction from burning as he mixed tomato paste, ground soy, hamburger flavor, capsaicin extract, his secret ingredient -- az-burrito-sauce -- and some soy beans into his mixture.

Finishing dinner preparations Greg nibbled on some slices of artificial cheese while he waited for the stew to finish. He was confident that things would turn out alright -- he had security, he had Reston's support and he had Ana -- who never failed to amaze him. He was going to relax and enjoy tomorrow.

Another hour passed as he waited for the soup to finish then he yelled (Ana would hav rather had him use the house network, but they were finnished butting heads over that) "Soups up, come and get it!"

Carla
Thursday 4/17/70 09:47:30

Despite her mother's assurances of innocence, Carla couldn't help worrying that, if her father was guilty, these criminals would come after her entire family.

"Well, if the hearing isn't for another hour, can we go see him beforehand?"

Gregory
Monday 4/28/70 16:45:10

Gregory was feeling pretty good. A day to himself, doing everything he could think of to massage himself into a state of calm and relaxation. He had had a stressful weekend, and he knew that neither the threat to his family nor the terrorist danger had been resolved. But he felt that a day alone at home would pay off in terms of his mental alertness and his magical capacities.
And although he didn't have quite as much faith in them as Ana did, it did add to his peace of mind to have a couple of men chilling discreetly out front. When he had insisted this morning that both teams accompany Ana, one to stay at the kids' pre-school, Jordan had called his office, and they'd called Reston, who had authorized payment for a third team. Good service, yeah, or good salesmanship. Both, he supposed. But definitely nice to know Eric was doing all he could.
What really bothered Greg, though, was Wolverine's lack of magical assets. They had explained that they had a combat mage in a secure room that could be on a scene astrally within seconds - he'd apparently already been out to the house so that he'd know exactly where it was on the astral. But everyone knew that if there was a magical attack, even seconds might be too late.
So, unbeknownst to Ana or the sec men, Greg had accompanied Ana and the kids to school and work in the astral. Nothing had been amiss, and he'd checked on both several times throughtout the day. It was actually kind of fun, being out in the ether a bit - somehow, over the years he'd sort of gotten busy with other things, and paid his talent little heed except insofar as he'd needed it for his work.
Now, reclined on the sofa watching the old 2-D classic Sin City 4 - Booze, Broads and Bullets, his comm rang. It was Ana, telling him she was heading out from work to pick up the kids, and teasing him for being such a worry wart and making her check in like that. He made the necessary noises, and as soon as she was off the line, he began to separate himself from his physical shell. But just as the last of his tangible senses were fading, he heard the comm ring again. Assuming it was Ana, he returned his consciousness to his flesh and answered.
Tim's voice had that distinctive sound of a man shouting and enunciating clearly to be understood over a lot of background noise. "We got him, brau - Atiq - getting on the chopper now, be at the barn in ten. Clock's ticking man, asshole's already in his death clothes or whatever. See you in a few."

Warren
Thursday 3/28/70 00:36:43


As Warren was side stepping and rolling out of the way of the sword wielding troll all he could hear were what sounded like hundreds of bullets slamming into the van shattering the glass and hitting the armored sides and then he saw Ray, Dani and Nick bailing out of the back. What the hell are they doing, I didnt say it was safe to come out yet. The van began to poor out smoke and then it was on fire and the gunfire seemed to relent a bit. The big troll took a swipe at him and Warren nearly payed a heavy price for being distracted, fortunately as he jumped back at the last second the only thing that was sliced open was his doc wagon jumpsuit horozontally.

Dani was in shock and was huddled against the wreckage with Ray trying desperately to calm her nerves, Ray pulled the pin on a smoke grenade and dropped it nearby to create even more smoke. Nick ran over to the elf woman and began checking her over when his shoulders slumped and he grabbed the woman by the hand. Then Nick's voice came over the comm, "The woman's spinal cord is broken, she is alive but if we move her she might die."

Warren dug down deep as things went from worse to abysmal, he had to act now if things were gonna be saved. He waited for the troll to take another swipe at him, which didnt take long. The troll was going for a vertical overhead slash this time. As the other troll brought the sword down Warren reached up and grabbed him by the wrists and tried to deflect the sword to his right side. He was then standing side by side with the other troll. As he let go of the other troll's wrist with one hand he reached down and then in a blur of motion brought his elbow up to smash into the face of the other troll....

The troll moved his head to the side with what seemed like magically or cybernetically enhanced speed. Warren had attempted to save so many rich people who could afford that type of thing he easily spotted the effects. He was seriously reconsidering getting cybered but there were several factors keeping him from actually going through with it. First it would nearly wipe out his bank account he had saved up working the mad schedule he worked. Secondly he would get bumped out of the professional fights and be reduced to constantly doing underground fights. And lastly Doc Wagon explicitly told him that they would not pay for any augmentaton.

All of this reflection about the other guy's obvious enhancements were cut short as the other guy kicked Warren as he was dodging Warren's elbow knocking him off balance. Warren couldnt help but stumble away a couple of steps before regaining his balance. He also couldnt help but notice they were getting farther and farther away from the others.

THINK. My lmg is jammed or i would mow this fragger down. I have a pistol for all the good that would do me, i should have spent some time practicing at the range with the stupid thing. We cant move the elf chick, Danielle looks to shaken up to even move, and whoever turned our van into swiss cheese will be getting closer.

Gregory
Monday 4/28/70 16:50:20

Greg sat bolt upright from the trance he had been lowering himself into. He faced a moment's indecision but knew the oaths he'd sworn on the flag took precedence here. He'd promised his flesh and blood to this government and couldn't go back on that deal when it needed him most even if that flesh and blood was wandering around kindergarten rather than safely attached. He fired off two quick messages.

<Tim, I'm going now. I want him in room A with as little medical treatment as possible, we want him very alive and very worried about dying.>

<Ana work has caught up with me and the first crisis might be getting resolved and soon. I'll be at the office when you get home, the Wolverine guys will keep an eye on you.>

Greg ambled around the house as he struggled with composing the text and grabbing his things at the same time. He'd taken to keeping the coat, gun and taser on him and this was going to be no exception, but preparing those three items while typing on his commlink created an awkward sort of juggling sensation. However, as soon as the messages were off Greg finished donning the jacket and tools with ruthless efficiency.

The car was set to autonav and he astrally knew the route to the CIA -- a quick checkup before redlining this bucket of bolts to the office won't hurt

Carla
Thursday 5/1/70 8:00: 00

Grandma –

I’m sorry we haven’t spoken in nearly three weeks. Between Papa’s ordeal and a recent change in my school curriculum, I haven’t had much time to give you a call. And to be honest, I must admit that I’m worried about eavesdroppers listening in to our conversations. That’s why I mailed you this letter in a package originally from Uncle Alvaro; no doubt the police would open up the package if it had my name or address on it. No, I don’t have anything to hide from them, but that doesn’t mean we should sacrifice what little privacy we still have, right Grandma?

Anyway, I assume Papa has told you all about his mess already, and if not, then surely you’ve heard about it on the news. Both Ma and Papa claim that they’re innocent, but I’m really not sure what to believe. It’s going to be quite embarrassing for the city if Papa is found not guilty, so I doubt he would have been arrested if there wasn’t a reasonable amount of evidence against him. Now don’t get me wrong, Grandma; I’m not saying I think your son is an organlegger; I’m simply not going to take anyone’s word for truth, even Papa’s, until I see more evidence myself.

The mess has hit the whole family pretty badly. I don’t see Ma much anymore; with Papa out of work, she’s doing overtime at the clinic in order to retain as many patients as possible. I imagine she’s both emotionally and physically exhausted by this point. Papa’s not doing so well either; he keeps to himself a lot and seems to be constantly irritable – except for when Gregor’s around. Perhaps he had a revelation of some sort, because Papa is suddenly treating Gregor like the prodigal son. Gregor’s feelings about this new treatment seem to be mixed. On one hand, I think he’s a little offended by Papa’s offers to “help” him; Gregor appears to be of the mindset that his lifestyle is in no need of improvement. I must admit that I’d like to see Gregor adopt a more...healthy way of living, but I also have to respect what makes him happy. Regarding, my relationship with Gregor, it has gone largely unchanged; he teases me for getting “kicked out” of school – which is not what happened, I assure you. I was simply relocated off of campus. Gregor sends his regards to you, by the way.

-Carla

Electra
Saturday 5/10/70 15:55:00

Thrown into the hard-plastic rear bench of the police car, Electra was treated to a bumpy series of stops and starts as the bobbies made their way through afternoon traffic still totally disrupted by the calamity earlier in the day. It wasn't long before the handcuffs, digging into her flesh, became seriously painful. She had faked unconsciousness to try to give herself a chance to get her head around everything that was going on, but she couldn't exactly concentrate with the damned car lurching its way around London with siren wailing.
Now it seemed that she was finally arriving at the tower - a historic structure that was rapidly regaining its former infamy under the control of the Lord Protector. Slitting her eyelids she could see that the car had been admitted through a heavy roll-up gate and was descending beneath the castle.
Soon the car stopped, several pairs of rough hands were hauling her 'unconscious' form out of the vehicle. Unceremoniously laid on the concrete, she heard a snap, and her chef's nose was assailed with a wall of the sharpest stimuli it had ever encountered - smelling salts - never had the pleasure till now, thank you very much.
Whether she could have kept herself from reacting or not, she judged that now was the time to end her self-made reprieve and 'awoke.'
"Right then, off we go," announced the street officers, handing her off to two uniformed detention officers - one troll, one human, both female. The first thing they did was fit her mouth with some kind of plug - a gag? In any case, it was a good thing she didn't have a cold....
Whatever red tape rigamarole she might have imagined accompanied being put in gaol must have been expedited in her case, because before she knew it she was naked and bent over a stainless steel table, being cavity-searched by the human woman while the troll held her down - not that she'd resisted.
No sooner had the two clad her in a gray jumpsuit than she found herself passed though a dozen scanners and then, still cuffed placed in a hard metal chair in the middle of a stark concrete room.
Only after some med techs had come in and stuck an IV in her arm was the mouth-thing removed - which was indeed a tremendous relief, and she immediately had a visitor.
There she was alone in this cell with a man known by name and face to every mother's son (or daughter) in England - Sir Adam Dashwood, the head of the Lord Protector's Oversight Office.
He sat in a chair opposite her.
He recited as though from intimate knowledge, but her actress' eyes could tell when someone was reading AR off headware or contacts.
"Electra Spiros, at least since the confusion of the Crash allowed all sorts of undesirables to become subjects. I'm not too proud to admit that we don't know who you were before that, but you know we will.
"So for this first interview, let's content ourselves with what we DO know. Awakened..." Electra somehow kept her face blank at that - WHAT??? "...up-and-coming starlet. Currently employed by the Old Globe Shakespeare Company to play Livinia in Titus Andronicus...appropriate, that...and also a mass murderer - or did you just want to blow up the art?"

Carla
Sunday 5/8/70 10:03:56

Carla met the postman at the door, and he was escorted back down the steps by the KE men. She couldn't believe that after almost a month the media vultures were still camped out in the park, and still trying to sneak newshounds up to the door.
With the mail was a letter from her grandmother. Carla opened it eagerly

My dearest Carlita,
How my heart goes out to you now in your time of tears. Of course your father has explained the situation to me. It is a dreadful state of affairs. I urge you to remember who you are - Carlita, flesh of my flesh, though we have never touched I feel that I know you so much better than those that I see every day. For you are so much like I was so long ago - only much more beautiful. You are a thinker, and a doer. Remember that you are always your own woman, whatever this world may do. And remember always your Hail Marys - you must not let these media scoundrels keep you from confession! The Lord Jesus Christ stretcheth forth his arm always to comfort those that mourn. Amen.
I do thank God that there is peace between your father and Gregor. I have been praying for that miracle every day these past few years, since your priceless brother began to lose his way.
It has come to my old ears that you are doing research for a man in Australia, that you work on your computer from home. Since this is the case, you must remember my invitation of these many years to come and stay with me here in Seattle. What better time than now, with these media demons always snapping at your heels.
But since you are there in New York, do this for me: keep a close and loving eye on your father. For him, there is no greater love than family, and he feels now that he has failed you all, which is perhaps more terrible torture than the fires of hell. Now is the time that he needs the loving comfort of his beloved daughter.
Let us now turn to lighter things. Does not Proverbs 15:13 remind us that "A merry heart maketh a cheerful countenance: but by sorrow of the heart the spirit is broken"? So I will tell you now of the delicious meal prepared for me and Padre Cardoza by my Senor. What skill or refinement can there be of which my Senor is not possessed? Was I going to speak of food? But it was ambrosia, my Carlita, it was manna from heaven. But listen to me - I go on like a schoolgirl - but that is how my Senor makes me feel.
I send you my loving thoughts and prayers,
Nana

Nana - Carla had not been able to bring herself to call her grandmother that since she was a child, but it was how she signed all her letters. She was a rock, an anchor to Carla through all the worst times of her life. Even now, with all that was gloomy, Carla could not help but smile at the thought of her grandmother's gentleman. She spoke of him as though he were some fabulous Spanish noble, stepped from the ranchero period of old California, or the Court of Aragon. In reality he was probably some cute little man with a knack for sweet words - that was what Carla liked to think, but she also feared that perhaps her grandmother, living in what was not exactly the best or safest neighborhood in Seattle, was simply making her adorable Senor up.

But look at the time. She wanted to go to the grocer to pick up something to make her father for lunch. Of course they could deliver it, but it was an excuse to get out of the house and away from her research. Before heading out the door, she thought she'd see if there was anything in particular her father had an appetite for. Entering his study, it seemed as though he was hastily putting something into his desk drawer. But he smiled as she entered - "My dear, how are you this morning? How goes your research? Is there anything I might help you with?"

Carla
Sunday 5/8/70 10:04:00

Carla was slightly annoyed. The manner in which her father fired off successive questions suggested that he wasn't genuinely interested in having them all answered. He was babbling either out of nervousness or courtesy - neither of which Carla expected from her father. Regarding nervousness, why should he be nervous to see her? And regarding courtesy, Carla felt that courtesy was like a protective bubble only necessary for avoiding conflict with strangers. She saw no need for intimate acquaintances, such as her father, to show her courtesy. Before letting her thoughts get the best of her, however, Carla reminded herself of her father's barrage of queries and opted to answer only the last one.


"I'm heading out to get some groceries, Papa," Carla replied, her eyes lingering on the desk drawer her father had just closed. "Anything you want for lunch?"

Gregory
Monday 4/28/70 16:54:00

Gregory skimmed confidently across the trees and gardens that provided abundant greenery clean mana to his upper middle-class neighborhood. This should only take a second - after a day of nervously checking on her, he knew the route to Ana's workplace and the nearby pre-school well. Just a quick look-see would repay him with a calm mind for his next hour's work.
Zipping around her office, he saw no sign of her there. He then flew along her usual route to the school. Of course, the cars all looked pretty much the same, and the ubiquity of tinted windows made spotting her tough. But by sticking his head through the roofs of cars that were the same general size as hers, he quickly decided she wasn't on the road - oh, there was the school, and right in front of it was one of the Wolverine men - standing alertly outside his car, partner probably buttoned up inside. Good technique for a maximal combination of vigilance and safety. And there coming out of the main building were Ana, Brian in one arm and Linda by the hand, Jordan out in front, and his partner behind them. Ana was making embarrassed noises at the other mothers, while Jordan was exchanging professional nods with a couple of the school security officers.
Everything looked kosher, and then he saw something move, almost totally hidden within the aura of a big oak tree - Montressor! The villain was already looking right at him, and Greg barely had time to throw up his defenses before a shock of energy tore into his brain.

Carla
Sunday 5/8/70 10:04:30

Her father looked momentarily puzzled at her question. "Oh, oh yes, um, really dear anything at all will be fine. Thank you." He smiled.

As she turned to go however, he called, "Carla? Could you wait a moment? Won't you sit down?" he asked, indicating one of the plush leather wingbacked chairs that faced his desk at 45-degree angles. "There is something I wish to ask you about. Your mother says you asked her the other day about the shedim. Was there any particular reason for you to make such a query? Was it perhaps related to your academic research?"

Carla
Sunday 5/8/70 10:04:30

"Um..."

Carla took a moment to decide how to answer. On one hand, she felt it might be beneficial to tell her father the truth, as he might know something about the situation and could possibly help. On the other hand, since Carla still suspected her father might be related to the cause of this mess, she feared what his reaction might be. After all, she was dealing with an accused organlegger here...

"Well, it's not directly related to my studies. I asked Ma about the shedim because I read that they occasionally appear in hospitals, and, well, I was just kind of scared about it, you know? I mean, what would you suggest that I do if shedim popped up at Tisch? Are there certain types of behaviors that would cause them to come after me or ignore me?"

Warren
Thursday 3/27/70 00:45:29

Warren was beginning to feel hope slipping away as the opposing troll deftly ducked under another one of Warren's ineffective punches. The troll quickly countered with slashes of his own but the adrenaline flowing through Warren and his unarmed combat skills let him block or dodge all of the attacks but he couldnt keep this up forever, the other troll would eventually land a hit and that would be the end.

Warren tried to move closer to his friends but ever time he made a move the other troll would cut him off, sometimes almost literally. In this position he was barely able to see the others through the smoke working hastily to contruct a telescoping body brace or stretcher. Great after this fragger cuts me in half maybe he will have to run a little bit before he cuts them in half. The feral grin on the sword troll confirmed that he was probably thinking the same thing.

Oh well i guess the best i can do is stall this guy long enough so the others can make a run for it and then try to run for it myself, If i ever make it out of here I swear to god im gonna make these damn Los Locos guys pay.

Carla
Sunday 5/4/70 10:05:00

Antonio Sanchez looked visibly relieved. "Well, if it was just a passing curiousity, than there is clearly nothing to be concerned about. I am sure any hospital worthy of the name will have all the necessary precautions in place, my dear, so you have nothing to worry about."

Carla
Sunday 5/8/70 10:05:10

"Precautions? Such as? I was told - through my reading - that shedim were very difficult to detect and ward against."

Her father's response agitated Carla a bit. If these beasts could be warded against, then how could a hundred of them appear at the hospital in a single night? It couldn't have been an isolated, incidental slip in security. Perhaps the hospital simply didn't have the proper security measures in place, but that couldn't be the case for such an esteemed hospital as the one she worked in. The other possibility could be that the shedim were intentionally allowed into the hospital, but that only raised more questions.

Carla
Sunday 5/4/70 10:05:14

"My dear, I am sure you are better aware of your own hospital's security procedures than I am." His eyes narrowed in concern. "Are you quite sure there was no other reason for your inquiry? Please, Carla, I know this has been a stressful time, and that your feelings toward me may be confused." He held up a hand. "No, don't protest. You are an intelligent and extremely independent-minded woman, not prone to blind faith. It is natural for you to be confused. But whatever you may think of me, I am your father and as God is my witness I have always done what was best for you.....And I always will," he added more softly. After a brief pause he continued - "So if there is something you are not telling me, please, confide in your father."

Carla
Sunday 5/8/70 10:05:30

Carla was indeed confused. Despite her father's promises, she wasn't fully comfortable telling him about the shedim attack. However, Carla also knew that her father was extremely smart - he obviously suspected that she was hiding something (Carla had always been a bad liar), and if she refused to tell him anything, he would no doubt investigate the matter himself. Confiding in her father, it seemed, was the safest option at this point. She spoke reluctantly.

"The reason I ask, Papa, is because the shedim appeared at my hospital while I was on the premises, and only when I was on the premises. And I'm not just talking about one or two - there were reportedly nearly a hundred of them, and...and they were calling my name."

Carla looked down as she spoke, avoiding eye contact with her father.

"One of them attacked me - luckily there was a security officer nearby."

Warren
Thursday 3/27/70 00:57:52

Warren felt like he was trapped in a nightmare, the kind where you cant run if your being chased or you cant hit very hard if your fighting. Nothing he did seemed good enough to penatrate this trolls defenses. Warren didnt have any other choices though. It looked like the troll ganger was feeling the same way as he lashed out with the sword wildly.

This time the slash was horozontal and Warren had little effort ducking underneath of it. He had already been anticipating all the different slashes the troll could throw at him and was ready for it with a counter. While crouched down with the blade whizzing by overhead he kicked out at the ankle of the troll knocking him off balance but not really injuring him. The troll staggered forward and thats when Warren leaped from his crouching position and slammed his fist into the nose of the other troll.

Blood burst from his nose and splattered all down his mouth and chin, it had definately been broken. Unfortunately as the troll with the sword staggered back holding his nose a fire lti in his eyes and he slashed out again as Warren was landing from his flying attack. Warren grimaced and then cried out as the blade sank into his flesh and tore across his leg opneing up a pretty vicious gash. It wasnt enough to put him out of the fight but he was definately going to be slowed down and if he didnt finish the fight fast enough he was pretty sure he would probably pass out from the blood loss. Atleast I held my own against this cybered freak. The others should have finished the stretcher and should be on their way now. Maybe there is hope in getting out of this alive afterall. Just gotta hold on a little longer....

Gregory
Monday 4/28/70 16:54:03

Greg's astral hands flew in wide circles as Montresor's astral form exploded in black feathers and a glowing raven streaked towards him. The first bird shaped spell spun away from his face as a semblance of a classic tai-chi crane hand brushed it away, but Montresor pressed the advantage of surprise and his second raven struck home sending Greg's astral form spinning towards the earth at blinding speeds.

His life force surged back into the gaping hole that Montresor's spell had punched through his astral form as he ricocheted off of the gaiasphere and his feet and astral coat (his pea coat always followed him to the astral) whipped past his line of sight. Greg regained control of his form and spun his feet to the ground skidding past Jordan in a three point stance as he manifested, pointing and yelling at Montresor's tree.

The pointing hand began glowing green as Montresor's swirling defenses left an opening. A writhing streak of energy launched from Greg's hand forking and biting towards Montresor, but the most unfortunate sparrow in the world flew between the two and exploded in a shower of feathers as the defensive gap was filled with black feathers.

Astral energy was pooling in Greg's arm as he charged up a second stunbolt but he glanced toward Ana for a split instant as the spell warmed up. Looking back all he saw was a dark beak and claws streaking towards his face.

Gregory
time unknown

A cobra was coiled on Greg's chest. He felt as if he were lying down but without any weight. The grey and purple sky whipped past as the snake leaned clase to his face and hissed

There are prices to be paid,
There's Revenge to be exacted;
Secrets torn from ork unmade
and Torture's horror reenacted.

And the world shattered around him.

Gregory
Monday 4/28/70 17:23:10

Greg found himself being bodily hauled out of the driver seat by Tim. He felt the characteristic cold tingling of a stim patch spreading from the artery in his right thigh and something warm trickling out of his nose and ears. Reston was bellowing something but sound wasn't carrying quite right; all Greg heard was a violent buzzing.

Jordan's ID blazed in the upper left corner of his comm. display as Greg shoved Tim off of him and unsteadily took his feet

"I'm fine, everyone get off of me -- you give me a scalpel." Greg said to Tim, the CIA medical technician and anyone else listening. He let the waking world stop spinng then stormed toward the CIA, "Atiq's going to sing, Tim. You coming or not?"

Only after he'd gotten through the doors and blown past the startled but acquiescent security guard did Greg remember to check his comm while striding to the basement office where he tore secrets from whatever sod was dumb enough to be holding them. Jordan's call still waited expectantly. Greg calmly silenced it; there was work to be done.

Carla
Sunday 5/4/70 10:06:10

Dr. Sanchez appeared unperturbed as Carla began her tale of the anomalous shedum disturbances, but as she continued, his brow furrowed, and when she said they had mentioned her name it was clear he was upset.
But he calmed himself, stroking his chin as she awaited his response.
"Then it is as I feared - this may be....related." His voice started to trail off, as if he was talking to himself - "There might indeed have been something to her nonsensical ba..." He caught himself, and straightening up he looked his daughter in the eye.
"There could be something to this. No, I mean, obviously there is something to this. It should definitely..." A sadness came into his eyes. "I mean to say, well, aside from the obvious, there may be something here that your mother, yes, your mother can help you with. She was...is...much more conversant on those ev...things, than I ever was. This could be critical, my dear. You must press her on this issue."

Carla's mouth opened to ask a thousand questions, but he smiled softly and preempted her with a finger to his lips. For a moment she saw the mischievous gleam in his eye that she'd known as a child. "No, save your questions for your mother. Now is...perhaps you should go and do that shopping. For lunch?"

Electra
Saturday 5/10/70 15:57:00

Electra looked Sir Adam Dashwood in the eye, and the man showed no signs of evasiveness or deception,

'Holy Mary, he actually thinks I did it. Why?'

She looked to the floor, then back up into his eyes.

"Sir Adam, I do not know why I 'm not scared, I should be, you don't seem to be lying about me being awakened, but that is news to me, maybe that's it. I would like to know if there is any point in me asking for legal council. I do not doubt that with time you could convince me to do or say anything you wanted, but I hope that as you seem genuinly interested in finding out who did this you will at least give me a chance to defend myself before I am broken on the wheel."

Carla
Sunday 5/8/70 10:20:00

Carla left without a word; her father had frightened her more than anything else, and all she wanted to do now was get away for a while. It wasn't so much the advise as it was her father's attitude that worried Carla. Though he certainly did appear to be disturbed by the news, he didn't seem to be entirely surprised or even worried about the situation.

After grabbing a light jacket and her AR gear, Carla met a KE officer at the door who would escort her down to the local (real) food-mart (such stores were able to stay in business thanks to the largely affluent neighborhood.) Though the reporters seemingly had backed off for the morning, Mr. Fitzgerald had insisted that Carla and her mother be accompanied by escorts to avoid harrassment from the press.

"Taking the car, miss?" the officer inquired as the two reached the sidewalk.

"No," Carla replied, "the food-mart isn't too far - we can walk."

"It'll be safer in the car."

"No doubt, but it's a nice day, and I could use some exercise. Besides," she added jokingly, "I'm sure you can protect me from those big bad media-types, right?"

"Well, yes."

This KE officer had been assigned to escort Carla around town over the past few weeks. Heavily built and unusually well-mannered for an ork, he was a fairly young and inexperienced officer - Carla estimated that he was only a couple of years older than herself. Though Knight Errant certainly considered the Sanchez family's case to be a high priority, KE had assessed that the threat-level of the case was relatively low given that they were guarding against reporters rather than hostile attackers, so they had assigned their less experienced officers to the job. In the first week or so, Carla was content with just letting the officer follow her around town and watch her back, but as of late, she had taken to engaging in conversation with the officer during their trips. Today, however, Carla needed quiet time to think things through.

The trip down to the grocery store was pleasantly uneventful. Carla decided to stick with the basics for lunch, so she simply bought some sliced meat, cheese, and bread to make sandwiches. Her shopping done, she and the officer left the store to head home. She was feeling better now; maybe all Carla had needed was a good walk in the cool, spring air. With her mind at ease, Carla was tempted to contact her mother and ask about the shedim, but she decided it would be best to discuss such a topic in the security of her own home.

Warren
Friday 3/28/70 00:57:55

Something about having his leg slashed must have jacked Warren's adrenaline level up a notch, because for a horrible split second his senses took in the full scene before him. Directly in front of his face, the big cybered troll in the Los Locos colors was preparing a follow-up slash with masterful grace despite his broken nose. Surrounding the blazing ambulance, he could see the asphalt being chewed up - whoever had shot up their vehicle was now laying down suppressive fire all around it, although his crew still appeared to be safe from gunfire in its shadow. Ray and Nick were carefully moving the unmoving elf woman onto their hastily constructed stretcher, and Dani had the baby in one arm and was holding up an IV bag with the other. And one by one, sort of lazily as if they had all the time in the world, four grenades rolled out from under the burning ambulance, coming to a stop next to the little group of medics, none of whom seemed to notice a thing.

Carla
Sunday 5/4/70 10:52:00

Carla bid good day to the KE ork and keyed her home's security code with her commlink. She was surprised to learn from the log that her mother was home. Entering the house, she found her father's office doors still shut tight, and heard the shower - her mother must not have had any patients show up for their appointments - indeed, fewer and fewer were showing up as the day of the trial rapidly approached. She was just putting the groceries on the kitchen table when she heard a loud noise from what sounded like her father's study - an abrupt, wet THUD of a sound.

Electra
Saturday 5/10/70 15:57:30

Sir Adam Dashwood leaned back and studied Electra's perfect face. He pursed his lips and appeared to be choosing his next words carefully, as though pondering a chess move. Clearly something she had said had given him at least a moment's pause.
"A lawyer? Good heavens no. Not for terrorists. But aside from that ridiculous request, you are right about some things. I most certainly CAN get you to say or do anything I like, and I most certainly AM interested in getting at the truth of this matter. So since you understand that I am going to get what I want, why don't you save us the trouble of breaking out the wheel, and simply tell me all you know?"

Carla
Sunday 5/8/70 10:52:30

Concerned that her father might have fallen or hurt himself, Carla tapped on the closed door to her father's study.

"Papa? Are you alright in there?"

Carla
Sunday 5/4/70 10:52:35

There was no answer for a moment, and Carla was about to open the door when a voice came back - "Uh, yes, of course I am most certainly fine. Yes, very fine."

Gregory
Monday 4/27/70 17:33:34

Tim caught up with Greg halfway down the stairs.

"Greg, you do know what death clothes are, right?"

"Drek, death clothes. I thought you said death bed -- misread on my part. This is going to be a bit harder, could you grab the backup kit from the desk in my office."

"Sure thing, I've got the mage corps covering him, don't sweat the spell defense."

"I know what I'm doing you motherfrag ... sorry, stims -- get the kit."

As Greg descended the stairs into the staging area where a group of mean looking ex-military combat mages were watching Atiq, a mean looking hobgoblin in white robes, pace around Greg's custom designed concrete cell through a one way mirror.

"Toss him against a wall, let me get my hands on him," Greg instructed. The mages gladly complied hurling the terrorist into a small recess cemented into the wall where Greg could squeeze his fingers through a concealed hole to mind probe his subjects without them understanding how or why. He found that this disoriented them and certainly didn't give them the ray of sunshine that resisting a hostile spell did.

Greg carefully made the sword hand and tiger claw then placed them against opposite temples of the writihing hobgoblin. Unlike the child in the stuffer shack, he had no intentions of this spell being gentle and let fly with everything he had, astral energy coursing directly from one side of Atiq's head to the other ...

.. only to be blocked by some myserious astral barrier. Atiq breathed an audible sigh of relief and shouted in a middle eastern accent; "Is that all you've got?" Greg frowned and moved on to an emotional manipulation spell which was similarly blocked, causing the twisted ork to laugh even harder.

Greg frowned as Tim and a flustered looking Reston stepped into the room.

"He's got magical protection, we're going to have to do this the old fashioned way," Greg said as he pocketed assorted office supplies and more worrisome looking things from the box Tim was holding. He stepped up to the metal door of the chamber and underwent a transformation that was as rapid as it was alarming. Greg ceased to be a bumbling husband, an foolish war hero or an incompetent bureaucrat and was replaced by a calm, collected and terrifyingly efficient professional and it looked like business was about to get good.

Gregory
Monday 4/28/70 17:35:10

Greg confidently stepped back out of the room coated in blood which had once belonged to the shattered, soulless lump of flesh that was moaning an address in the center of the torture room's foor.

Tim was sprinting out the door with two of the combat mages in tow yelling "Hazmat, two strike teams and a chopper ... " into his comm as he departed. Reston was chattering into his phone saying -- its been identified, if you can hold off the press conference for another half an hour it will be ..."
as he wandered to another part of the basement.

Greg staggered a step coming out of the room as a few medical technicians rushed passed him to see if any of Atiq was salvagable. A doctor caught him and said "Sorry, that's a stim's about to wear off. You've only got another fifty minutes or so and you're going to get progressively more wired as time wears on. I'd recommend ... " the doctor sprinted into the room yelling as Atiq convulsed.

Greg was, as a result, left alone with only a few secretaries and bureucrats shooting him terrified stares. Jordan's commcode flashed in his vision again and he took a seat on a couch, wiping blood from his shirt, and answered the phone.

Gregory
Monday 4/28/70 17:36:00

Jordan Marsden was calling from a telecom terminal, allowing a real-time image of his face, instead of an icon, to convey his news. His face was taut with shame, stress, and pity.
"Mr. Blaine," he said, a soldier using all his willpower to keep his voice even and his eyes up, "I want to assure you first of all that both your children are safe and under airtight protection. It is, however, with the deepest regret that I must inform you of the passing of your wife. On behalf of myself, my team, and Wolverine Security, I would like to express my deepest condolences. We are at St. Mary's now, and will await your arrival."

Carla
Sunday 5/8/70 10:52:40

Curious what could have possibly made a wet, thud-like sound in her father's study, Carla inquired, "What was that noise?"

Carla
Sunday 5/4/70 10:52:48

"Noise? I did not hear any noise...Oh! Of course, THAT noise. Oh, that was nothing. Just return to your normal life. You are not needed in this room," replied her father's voice.

Warren
Thursday 3/28/70 01:06:37


Warren ignored the warm sticky sensation running down his leg as he saw the four grenades roll under the remains of the doc wagon ambulance right towards his friends. The pain completely disappeared as he yelled into his microphone as fast and loud as he could, "GRENADE! RUN!". Fortunately for him he never got to see what happened next.

The big angry troll with the sword was still in his face trying to finish what he had started. Warrens eyes refocused on the troll's face as he heard him scream and raise his sword for another attack, tearing his eyes away from the situation unfolding with his friends all he saw in the troll's face was hatred. The adrenaline was starting to wear off in Warren and he was aware of being injured even though he couldnt feel it at this moment so he decided to focus on just dodging and weaving the other trolls attacks.

The sword wielding troll slashed out kinda horozontally with his first attack, Warren didnt wanna put any undo pressure on his leg so he jumped backwards out of reach of the sword landing with most of his wait on his good leg. The second attack was a thrust which nearly struck home into Warrens gut but he used his arm to deflect it to the side. The trick resulted in a cut along his forearm but it was purely superficial, trolls are known for having tough skin which in actuality they do thanks to small boney deposts along their skin.

The third attack was just a continuation of the 2nd. The sword wield troll just turned the blade and tried to slash horozontally again. Warren had no choice but to duck and roll to the side with the flow of the blade let it narowly pass over his body. The same moment he began his roll he heard the explosions from the grenades. He had nearly finished his dodging roll when the concussion blast from four grenades going off knocked him flat. The troll with the sword was also knocked off his feet. Warren tried to make out what had happened but between the smoke grenades that had been set off earlier and the burning wreckage of the van and now the dirt and debris kicked up by the grenades he couldnt make out much.

Warren was laying face down on the street and was trying to position his arms to help him stand back up as he looked on at the explosion when an object that looked like an arm landed a little over twelve inches from his face. It was a complete arm kind of charred from the shoulder to the fingers. At first none of the details even registered as he looked at it but then everything seemed to register at once and he knew he was looking at what must be left of Ray or atleast part of what was left of Ray. As Warren's vision began to cloud up with tears as the full weight of the situation came crashing down on him emotionally he shapes appear from behind the doc wagon van and move around it, shapes that looked like people. He also noticed the sword wielding troll begin to get back to his feet.

He felt like just letting go and lay there on the pavement and let whatever was gonna happen happen, he knew in his heart that all of his friends were gone, even the woman and the baby that had come to save, they were not gonna leave witnesses. Then he saw Rays arm with smoke still coming off of it and for the first time ever Warren was scared, he couldnt stay here, he had to run if he wanted to live. If he could just make it out of this nightmare.

Carla
Sunday 5/8/70 10:52:55

"Papa, I'm not asking to come in. I'm just curious what that noise was. Why won't you tell me?" Carla insisted. Her father's tone had piqued her curiosity.