John
Saturday 3/15/70 19:02:04

When Manolo says he has not found any dark secrets, John smiles, genuinly relived and sighs almost inaudiable. She could still be a Mantide, but at least there is nothing wrong at the clinic! As his friend goes on, the elf´s expression pickes up some sadnes. With the mage´s punch-line, the lawyer´s brow furrows slightly. He puts his hand on his friends shoulder and trys to give him a comforting look, silent for a second. Then he starts with another soft sigh - this time an expression of sadness.

John: "I whish it where that simple, but I´m afraid, it is not. The government could regulate the small companies if it tried to, but truth is, they don´t care. That´s why the people at Erskin Ridge live in such a sorry state right now! More then 80% of these people are SINless. No SIN means no votes and no votes means the government dosn´t care. America has allways relyed on people deprived of their rights, to fuel it´s economy! First they where slaves, then illegal alians and then the SINless. Things did get better over time and hopefully, they will get better in the future, but you can´t count on the majority of top-politicians, to change something out of the good of their hearts ..."

He pauses and locks away for a moment, equally for dramatic effect and to think about his own words, as he his searching for answers to his own questions.

John: "... at least not without getting a pay-off in votes." He looks into the doctor´s eyes again. "You are on board long enough to know, that the UCAS and CAS laws are a mass and the governments are corporate-whores. The only way to make people move is public oppinion and public oppinion is a weapon much more effective against huge monolithical structures! Now if you draw attention to Roberts & Foster Group i.e., it might do something about R&F´s MO, but it won´t effect most other small corps. R&F will quickly be driven out of business and another despoiler will take it´s place. There is a reason, the Mamoth went extinct, while rodents still prosper - ad that´s not because neolithical people didn´t eat rats! If bad PR hits a big corporation it hase a much larger over-all effect - extrateritoriallity or not. Besides I have cracked more then one extraterritorial entity in my time. When the Appalachian Alliance is in the position to monopolize most mining operations in the region, there will be less firce competition and they can lift their social standards."

He slightly massages the shoulder his hand is resting on encouragingly and when Manolo looks down in thought, John tilts his head, to meet the human´s eyes again.

John: "And we can use our influence to make them do so! Right? Don´t get me wrong, we won´t make this world a paradice for everyone, but we can improve it a bit ..."

He goes on for a while, explaining his own lofty goals to his friend. How to influence NeoNET, what to do with RFS´ huge cash influx, that Manolo could spend some more payed time at the clinics if he liked it, on RFS´ social program in the future. He repeats the things he had told the doctor before his departure to the clinic - including the fact, that if RFS wasn´t making the Appalachian Alliance possible, some other lawyers would do, even if it cost NeoNET some more time and cash. John reasures his friend, that he as a doctor is not doing harm to anyone. Finally he ends his conversation, as the party guests had allready asked for him repeatedly.

John: "I am sure you worked around the clock these last four weeks! Maybe you should have some time off, spend time with your family, go on a vacation, maybe." He smiles at his personal physician, meaning what he says, even though he might need his medic more then ever, now that this operation was going public. "Now lets have a drink, we will talk more tomorrow!"

John
Saturday 3/15/70 19:30:00

"It's all good, boss," Manolo said, half-heartedly. "It's not like I going to up and quit on you. You don't have to bribe me with days off, I'm ready to work. But I gotta tell ya, I'm just not as far-sighted as you. Even if my head believes what you are telling me, I have a hard time with hurting chil....people now in order to maybe help more people later. Something in my gut tells me there's just got to be a better way. But I owe you, and my family owes you, and I'm not going to jump ship."

Etain
Saturday 07/26/70 20:46:44

The party was a success that much was apparent on a glance. The Rose & Brier was filled with dashing gentlemen, femme fatales, even some attempts at half man half animal costumes. Etain mingled with the crowd, laughed at jokes that weren’t very funny just to be polite, brushed off some bad pick-up lines that grew more offensive the more people drank, and often was found on Patrick’s arm throughout the night.

She had excused herself a number of times during the evening to make her way over to the bar where Conall was often found brooding. She tried to cheer him up, she even bought him a pint or two, but nothing seemed to lift his spirits. She was beginning to regret convincing him to come to the party when he was obviously so miserable. When Patrick called her back over to him, she gave her brother a tight hug before she slipped back into the group of friends gathered around the host of the party.

While she stood beside Patrick as he was telling some story about a hunting trip he took a while back, her eyes moved around the crowd hoping to catch a glimpse of either of her girlfriends. She found it strange that she had not spotted either of them or their planned costumes. Trying to hide the disappointment from touching her face, she forced a smile and glanced back towards the bar where she left her brother only to see his seat empty.

Conall
Saturday 07/26/70 20:46:44

The past few days had been, and probably would still be, a pretty big blur. As he looked down at the foam-covered bottom of his empty pint, Conall massaged the side of his head. He had gotten himself rather smashed every single day for the past week. With Etain floating on her little cloud of perfect happiness, Conall had discovered what being alone really was. Of course, Declan had been there, entertaining him to the best of his abilities. Rugby games, outings in the local pubs, watching the games, etc… Even surrounded by other cadets, Conall felt alone… even more than when he actually was, running freely in the forest.

Taking his empty glass up, he waved it nonchalantly at the barman, signaling he needed a refill. The young shaman had been sitting at the bar for just over an hour, and he was already drinking himself piss drunk. Just like every other night. And the headache still wasn’t gone. At least, he was thankful that none of Etain’s friend had decided to talk to him… Out of decorum, he would have been polite… but he didn’t feel like it. Especially not tonight. What he felt like was actually to pick a fight, which he had almost done when he had told some bloke to frag the hell off when asked about his “costume”. Fact was, Conall was simply wearing his usual clothes. Silly dressed up parties were for silly people.

Getting a newly filled pint, Conall started to down it immediately. As the glass hit the bar again, he threw a glance over his shoulder, toward where Patrick was standing.

Just give me one excuse… just one…

Turning his attention back to his pint, Conall could simply think one thing.

I hate this.

John
Sunday 4/20/70 12:00:00

After all the other guest had left, Shannon and Beth had staied to give a 'personal' birthday-present to John, and they had been 'verry nice' to him. He still wasn´t sleeping in Shannon´s presence and this night -or morning, more exactly- he had too many thoughts whirling around his head. He obviously hadn´t persuaded Manolo, which was no wonder, since he hadn´t even persuaded himself. Or maybe he had for a moment, but then Manolo´s response had made him rethink his argumentation. All through the party it was lingering in the back of his head, whitling down his conviction and he couldn´t stop it, even throughout the girls 'intensive care'.
The next day, after church and a short nap, Manolo had come back at him. He had told him, he had thought about the thinks John had said, and that he wanted to back him 100%. It still fealt strange, though he obviously meant it. John was more happy about his medic feeling better with the whole thing, then about compleatly having his back again. Still the elf insisted on his mage-doctor taking a week off, to go on a vacation with his family. He realy didn´t see it as a bribe or something. To him, Manolo had run double-shift or even 24/7 for the last four weeks, while not seeing his loved ones at all. So he deserved some extra days off. On top of that, with the operation picking up speed, he wanted his doc to be rested and it could be any day, that he could no more afford to have him spend a single day off, untill all work was done. At the moment, John was in good health, but with the work-load and publicity-stress at hand, that could change every day.
In the afternoon, the elf visited the Neuronet cyber-factory, clinic and research-center in Boston with senator Guadalupe. At that oportunity, he also gave him some stock-tips, that would pay of in a few days, when NeoNET went public with its plans for the Appalachian Alliance. He had sent the same information to Ramsey, along with the box of fine cuban cigars and also tiped some other friends, contacts and associates about it.

The following week, the hype really got rolling and they where making big strides, to sway UCAS and CAS politics in their fafour against the pressure of the NAN. Until then, John had allways thought Mr. Alvarez, to be just another pencil-pusher from NeoNET. Not thet he didn´t appreciate a subtile aproach, but over the last months, Alvarez seamed to have done nothing at all. But when the whole operation went public, he turned out to be a real PR wizard.
Their strategy worked out well. The NAN under influence of the PCC eased up a bit on it´s stance, with the prospect of favourable trade considderations through Horrizon and new NeoNET operations bringing jobs to it´s cronically underemployed north. UCAS and CAS legislation, along with the general public, bought into their champaign of nonintervention into internal afairs of single north-american nations by it´s neighbors and NeoNET built up a good image as a revitalizer of the american economy at Ares´ side.

By the end of week two, it was evident, that they would have gathered enough support for their plans in early April, but they decided to broaden up the theme a bit, to gether some more support for upcomming quests.
Shannon hadn´t been available since the party and at first, John didn´t mind, as he was busy enough himself, but when he finally got to talk to her on April, 5th, she only brifely explained, that she could no longer be with 'someone like him' and hung up. A quick check into her surveilance-logs made it clear, what she meant. Over the last weeks, she had watched a lot of trid-shows, that where criticising NeoNET´s plans. Luckily intelligence-assasment didn´t indicate that she would take any steps against him, she just didn´t want to see him anymore. Still, the lawyer spent the rest of the day re-living every recording of the both of them being together, searching for any compromizing information, but he didn´t find any - he had been very carefull. When he was done, he got wasted.
A string of bars later, he was tumbling down the street and getting upset about some silly April Fool´s jokes, thet had started the week. Kob Parker was by his side, but his bodyguarde was not drunk, even though he was officially off shift and an RFS plain-cloths security-detail was following them discreatly. Kob had never touched a glass of alcohol, as long as John knew the ork. The adept didn´t even drink something else that often - or eat and sleap, for that matter.

They probably walked and talked into the morning hours. The next thing that John remembered, was sitting on the couch in Alice Mon´s living room. Mr. Pringles was resting on his lap and his assistent was sitting next to him, offering him a cup of coffee and waring nothing but cheezy, pink and white 'Hallo Kitty' pyjamas.
He talked to her for a good while, sipping his coffee, a purring furry on his lap, untill some relevant news show came up and they just watched it in silence for a while. She hooked her arm under his and rested her head on his sholder, which fealt strange - or was it just the alcohol? John was used to have her hooked unddr his arm, when he took her along to some social functions, but her head had never rested on his shoulder. The news-mag was over quickly and he said his goodby and headed home.
Later that day, he met with Shannon and Beth and after an hour of conversation over a luxurious dinner, had them in his pocket again. They had been easy to persuate, that he was doing all he did for a greater good - fare more easy then he himself.

Two more weeks of orchestrating a big media-franzy, while digging through the paragraphs of the treaty of denver and other treaties among the north-american nations and general international law, and he fealt ready, to get started with the next task. He would have prefered, to handle the IMU problem without much media coverage, building precedents the same way he had done with Sierra, but Vogel´s outcry had made that impossible

So he is sitting in Manolo´s dining-room, with the aroma of a fabulous paella, homemade from fresh ingrediants drifting out of the kitchen. Thinking about a new strategy, while Manolo´s son is reciting a poem he learned at school.

Etain
Saturday 7/26/70 21:37:05

Just when Etain was thinking the evening couldn't be any more perfect, her face lit up at the sight of Keelin and Fiona coming through the front door.

And then she saw Conall leaving. Part of her was dismayed, but another part of her blamed herself for dragging him along to an affair that really wasn't his cup of tea anyway.

Turning her attention back to her girlfriends, she saw that they were headed towards her, and that they were not in costume!

They received her embraces with warmth but reservation, and then Keelin said - "Come with us, love. Quickly. We must talk."

As they moved toward the ladies' room, Etain caught a momentary wave of Conall's despair and confusion through the link they shared, and just as quickly it faded as he left the scope of the dweomer.

Conall
Saturday 7/26/70 21:37:05

Conall's pain and confusion were just too much, especially combined with the drink. He didn't have even the verve to greet his sister's friends as he passed them on his way out.
So much was changing, and he was entirely unclear on his feelings about it all. As he wandered into the fog-shrouded streets of Belfast, staggering along the alleyways close to the canal, his only solace was the feelings of warmth, happiness, even joy that he felt from his sister's end of their link. No matter how low his spirits fell, he could not begrudge her those emotions.
And then, as his boots carried him forward, even that comfort was gone as the astral energy faded with distance.

Etain
Saturday 7/26/70 21:37:05

Many thoughts were racing through her head all at once, concern for her brother, annoyance that her friends weren't dressed for the occasion and then there was the confusion about them coming to the party and taking her away to "talk."

She let them drag her to the ladies room and tried to focus her concentration on them and not the surrounding ambient noise of the pub. It was noticibly quieter once they stepped inside the ladies room and it's small lounge area.

"All right you two, what gives?"

Conall
Saturday 7/26/70 21:38:13

Conall’s feet felt unsteady as they hit the pavement in an irregular beat. Etain’s thoughts were now far behind him, and he was left alone with only his own feelings… which at the current moment weren’t at their highest. The summer was just going awfully. His dream of serving as an officer had been shot down and burned to ashes. His magical talents were years behind what they should have been. Even thought no one had told him, he knew deep down that he would simply become a pointless support mage, probably attached to some low rank Garda position with no hope of ever achieving the greatness only a true Ulster warrior could. Next year, Declan would graduate, while he was still buried under hours of magical theory classes… Etain would leave him also. The only one who was still there for him; the only one he could count on; the only one who wouldn’t ever abandon him was Wolf. With his sister’s growing absence, he had spent more and more time in the company of Wolf. Every morning, he had ran with him. Every evening, he had hunted with him.

Leaning against the railing, Conall peered into the black waters of the canal. Around him, he could hear the echoes of Belfast’s nightlife, yet the fog that surrounded him like a cloak blocked all the sights, making everything feel very distant. The young shaman could hear the city, yet, he saw no signs of it. And somehow, it comforted him.

He felt the brush of fur on his face.

Say, what are you doing?

Still looking into the dark waters below him, Conall spoke back in a tired tone.

“It’s pretty clear I think… I’m taking a breath of fresh air.”

Is it really what you are doing?

Forearms still resting on the railing, the young elf swung his head around, giving the large gray wolf that sat on the sidewalk, next to him, a long and exasperated look.

“Why do you always ask the questions you already know the answers to?”

The majestic wolf lifted his nose in the air, breathing in the cold air of the fog. Getting up on all fours, it came next to Conall, watching the gentle waves on the surface of the canal.

“Say, would you mind staying a bit with me.”

The large beast simply turned it’s deep gray eyes toward the elf, observing him for a few moments… before looking back towards the water.

A few seconds of silence passed.

“Thanks” was all Conall finally said.

Etain
Saturday 7/26/70 21:37:08

Fiona simply burst into tears and hugged Etain. Locked in the restroom, just the three of them, Keelin joined the group embrace, murmuring "Oh, Etain love, we are so sorry."

For what?!?!?

Keelin peeled Fiona off of their bewildered friend, and then simply said, "It's Skeeter Pee Pee. He's found something. Sit down, dear, and we'll show you."

A sick feeling was growing in her stomach, and Etain dropped the silly mask spell she had been maintaining. "What...?"

"Just sit down, love," Keelin said as gently as possible, while Fiona got herself undercontrol.

Etain sat herself on a chair in front of the vanity, and then Skeeter Pee Pee's memory was streaming into her earbuds and contacts. In her later memory, it would all be a blur, but she would never forget the highlights.

Patrick in some sort of den - a very testosteroney place covered with bikini posters and collections of beer bottles. On his lap was an Asian girl wearing even less than the girls in the posters, and Patrick was kissing her playfully.
Two of Patrick's usual cronies entered the room. "Damn, man, you brought her over here? What'll yer blushin' bride have to say?"

Coming up for air, Patrick replied, "My blushing bride will never know - at least not until decorum demand she ignore it. Once everyone grows up they'll know that I can't be livin' as a bleedin' monk. The O'Neill girl is a fair fetchin' lass, and I won't say I'm not looking forward to the wedding night. But long term, mates? Come on. We all know she's already married to that damned brother of hers. I'd even lay money it's in a more than figurative sense, if ya take my meanin' - the way those two are making dovey eyes at each other all the live long day. And he can have her. Once the alliance is set, Kaori and I will be together, as will be the twins."

And then he was upstairs - she saw he'd been in the basement of his house. Now he ran into his father.
Father: Costume tonight, then? Better you than me, lad.
Patrick: Believe me father, I am the most eager of anyone to complete these formalities.
Father: Well, get her married to you soon, son. Any more of the 'kindly old general' act and I'm sure to be sick.
Patrick: Don't worry. I know all too well how much is to be gained from an alliance of our houses. I won't disappoint you.

And then Etain couldn't watch anymore. She ripped out the earbuds and began tearing at her eyes to get the contacts out.

Etain
Saturday 07/26/70 21:46:39

Gone were the elaborate mask and all the delicate touches she had put on her costume earlier in the evening. Left behind was a young woman in an expensive dress with tears threatening to spill from her eyes who had just witnessed the ultimate betrayal. She squeezed her eyes closed to hold back the tears but she was assaulted with the images of Patrick kissing that other… woman. She was going to be sick. She pushed past her girlfriends and into one of the stalls where she promptly threw up.

After her friends helped her get cleaned up and she caught her breath she knew she didn’t have it in her to hold it together much longer. She wanted to break down and let it all go, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he had broken her like that. Instead she decided it was best if she was in the privacy of her own home before she let her true emotions show.

"Fiona, please don't let anything happen to that video, just in case."

As she left the ladies room, she began to make a bee-line towards the front door with her two girlfriends just behind her. All she could think of was getting out of there and as fast as possible and getting away from anything having to do with Patrick and the O’Donnell household. She was seething with anger and it was bubbling just beneath the surface waiting for an opportunity to be released.

As she passed the pub’s bar at a fairly brisk gait, she felt a now heavy hand upon her arm and a slightly drunken familiar slur of Patrick’s voice.

“Etain? What happened to the costume, love?”

She stopped in her place and slowly turned to face him. The more she looked at him the less attractive he appeared. Gone was the angelic image he had portrayed, the gentlemanly behaviours, and it was all replaced with a drunken frat boy who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. The illusion was completely shattered. She wasn’t about to let herself be used as some pawn in their family’s power play. Her eyes narrowed as she looked directly into his and only a fraction of the anger inside of her broke through.

“You bloody bastard. How could you?! Why don’t you take your promises and your soft whispers and especially the “alliance” of our two houses and shove them up your Asian whore’s ass. How’s that for decorum, hmm love?”

Her eyes were flaring as she positively hissed the words at Patrick’s face, the last especially tinged with malice. She could have screamed her words for the entire pub to hear, but she managed to rein in her anger enough that only those closest to the pair could hear her. Not staying around to watch the shock and surprise slowly cross his face as the words sunk into his alcohol-hazed brain, she spun back on her heel and walked right out of the pub leaving her girlfriends behind to unleash their own hell on her now very EX-boyfriend. They didn’t have to hold up to the same standards of “decorum” that she did.

Outside the humid air of the Belfast night assaulted her face and it was the trigger that opened the floodgates. The tears fell freely, blurring her vision as she choked back sobs and tried not to get sick again. She glanced back over her shoulder and the Rose & Brier no longer had the same allure that it once held in her heart. She started walking away from the pub, in any direction that would put distance between her and it and the bastard that was likely still inside.

John
Monday 4/21/70 09:08:03

Now the ball had been passed to the IMU. NeoNET had delivered it´s demands -or more accurately, it´s ultimatum- to the Union´s leadership - flanked by the take-off of another phase in the media champagne excellently orchestrated by Alvarez´ office. They had let shine through they´d be willing to negociate, however, now it was the IMU´s turn to accept and come to the table.
John is standing in the smoker´s lounge, having a cigarrette, while he thinks about a posibility to turn the IMU-negotiations into another hit against UCAS Steel. He dosn´t usually smoke regularly, but it´s slightly unnerving, that his intelligence on the miners is still fairly low. He had gotten a lot of information -mainly from the Aegis servers- but his spooks and dataminers had been bussy with the politicos -and to a lesser degree, double-checking on the girls- lately, so he was still waiting for a full brifing and dossier.

Etain
Saturday 07/26/70 22:32:00

Etain neither knew nor cared how long she'd been wandering the damp and foggy Belfast streets, crying until there were no more tears left to cry. She'd always loved the feel of the older, more traditional parts of the city, and the feel of the cobblestones under her feet grounded her somewhat. The hems of her skirt were muddy and frayed, and the air was chill for summer, but she was past caring.

She noticed how quiet it had become, and realized that she'd left the commercial areas and was in a neighborhood of workshops, the craftsmen long ago gone home for the evening. But she was not completely alone. Somewhere behind her she had heard footsteps, but thought nothing of it. They were closer now, however, and she ventured a casual glance back, which revealed two male figures, closer than she'd thought. Turning her gaze back to the narrow back-lane ahead of her, she found herself suddenly face to face with Patrick!

"Well well well, my dearest love. I will not say I am pleased by the way things have turned out, and I daresay my father will be less pleased still. But at least now I won't have to wait to satisfy my curiousity about you and that lout of a brother of yours. I mean, you act all pure and innocent, but I'll daresay you and that twin of yours have been a damned sight more initmate than you let on. Did you imagine there has been no speculation on this point? What say we find out if the rumours are true?"

Etain
Saturday 07/26/70 22:32:35

She had jumped in surprise when she had turned to suddenly face Patrick, as she had no desire to see him anytime in the near future when she had left the party. As he spoke and started to make horrible accusations about her and Conall that were so far from the truth she took a step back from his advances.

“You should have thought about the consequences before you made your choices.”

She took another small step back from him as he approached yet closer. She cast a quick glance over the back of her shoulder and saw the two other male figures step through a cast pool of light and show off their features. She was fairly certain that they were the same two from the video, friends of Patrick’s. She was effectively trapped in the narrow lane with them to the back and Patrick to the front. She drew a long and slightly shaky breath. She could feel herself tremble slightly beneath the velvet of her dress.

“Leave me alone Patrick. Take your friends and go back to the pub and just stay out of my life. There’s nothing more for you to find out about me. Period.” She tried to sound firm, but there was a slight tremor to her voice.

She took a final step backwards to get away from Patrick and his predatory gaze, and bumped right into one of his friends who had completely closed the distance between them. This is where the panic started to set in. They were drunk and she was outnumbered. Her breath started to come in shorter more gaspy breaths as she looked for a way out of the tight space and away from the trio.

Etain
Saturday 7/26/70 22:32:38

But they had her boxed in completely. She looked around for a light in a window, anything, any sign that there was anyone else around, but could find nothing. And then Patrick's two friends grabbed her arms from behind. That was it - her hackles were up and she shrieked with fiery indignation -

"LET ME GO, you filthy curs. Let me go this instant!!! I am the first daughter of Clan O'Neill, and I will NOT be..." But Patrick's fist striking her face momentarily silenced her.

"Well I am the heir of O'Donnell, and we both know that makes me untouchable, even by your brood. And you....Well, very soon you won't be anybody at all," he hissed, pulling out a knife. "Pull her into this alley," he ordered his cronies.

But Etain O'Neill would not go so easily. Tasting blood in her mouth, she began to scream at the top of her lungs. She stomped her foot down on one goon's instep with all the force she could muster, causing him to relinquish her grip, and with her free arm dragged her claws across the face of the other. But he was too drunk to feel it, and soon they had hauled her kicking and screaming into a dank alley, putrid with refuse and the stink of the canal it opened onto.

The man she had loved two hours ago faced her. "'Bloody bastard' am I? My woman a 'whore'? Oh, Etain, spoiled little sodomist, you will soon see just how much of a bastard an O'Donnell spurned can be."

"Oh, I am seeing full well just what a spineless bastard you are, you ork-loving fop. And it's not just that slut in your basement that's a whore, but your mother and every kinswoman of that sty you call a clan. Trolls-spawn you are, with not even their good qualities. Send these trained monkeys away and face me yourself, if you are man enough." She spat bloody sputum in a thick, wide spray across his face, and her act of defiance fueled her rage. Let him kill her, she would scream and curse him all the way to Hades - and scream she did.

But no one came, and they hauled her to the ground.

"First, my lovely, we will get rid of THIS," Patrick growled, seizing her left wrist. "Even when I kissed you, HE was there, like some cretinous voyeur. Well, no longer." Panicked, Etain realized he was referring to the claddagh she wore on her wedding finger, the ring that tied her to Conall.

"NOOOOOOOO!!!" she wailed, and kicked at him viciously but to no avail. As he bent over her she reared up and tried to bite his face and throat, her teeth snapping in desperation like an animal's, but the goons held her fast.

Her hand was balled into a fist, but he straightened it out. Then, instead of pulling the ring from her finger, he used the knife. Pure panic set into Etain's heart as he cut to the bone. He obviously had had no idea of the difficulty of the task he'd set himself, but he sawed and cut without mercy.

Etain thought she would die of the pain. She had never felt anything like it, and it defeated her. By the time he held up his prize, her hand was numb, and she began to beg. Without the ring, her separation from her brother - the one she'd ignored and rejected for the sake of this monster - would be complete. But Patrick saw her agony and relished in it. With a sneer he hurled her finger, and the ring that adorned it, far and into the canal.

Etain sobbed from pain and loss. She begged them to let her go. But instead Patrick hauled up her skirts and cut away her undergarments with the bloody knife. In a moment Etain was exposed before them in a way she'd never been in the eyes of any man.

"No, oh God, Patrick, do not do this thing." She pled as he undid his pants, but they only laughed and cruelly mimicked her sobbing voice. She tried with all her might to keep her legs together, but though they were none of them very strong, there were three of them. Through her despairing tears, she saw her assailant's shriveled, flaccid penis.

One of the goons taunted - "What's the matter, Pat, one too many pints."

"Shut it, you stupid git," Patrick rejoined, and without warning slapped Etain brutally across her face. That seemed to be what he needed, for within a moment's time he had taken from her her last shred of dignity in a vicious movement that tore and ripped at her.

Etain's mind and soul could no longer bear this world. As he jolted away at her body, she called out to Moon Maiden for solace, sending her mind across dewy starlit heaths in some far better place, now only dimly aware of one of the other goons unbuckling his own belt, the sound of their bestial laughter ringing in her ears from far, far away.

Conall
Saturday 7/26/70 22:36:00

There by the canal, Conall's heart was thrust through with an inconceivably sharp agony. Panic, shame and pain in a violent concoction of despair filled his soul. Etain!

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, it utterly disappeared.

"What? Is she near?" He looked around him, ready for battle.

Aye, she is near, but not so close as you think. Her distress is such that it pierced the bounds of the dweomer that binds you, and her spirit reached out to you across the distance. But now that enchantment is severed. She is in mortal danger, my cub. Renew now your oath to follow me forever, and I shall lead you to her and give you the strength you require.

John
Thursday 5/1/70 14:03:00

John was relaxing in his office. He felt good. He'd been sleeping much better, lately, and he'd been sleeping MORE. This union thing was turning out much easier than he'd thought.

The president of the International Miners' Union was a man with an extensive resume, but no spine whatsoever. He did bring some qualms to John's conscience - the man was obviously deeply devoted to the welfare of the miners and their families. But he was a dinosaur, and he knew it. Both he an John knew that if you kept saddling industry with exorbitant labor costs then pretty soon you wouldn't have any industry at all.
So IMU President Lawrence Storken negotiated and dealt and fought to keep some rights for his workers, but he knew it was a losing battle, and that showed in his attitude. Now, tomorrow at noon, they were set to sign documents in which the IMU relinquished all rights to organize labor in the regions encompassed by the Appalachian Alliance's operations. Their only solace was that the AA (AKA NeoNET) was obligated to allow an enterprise union - but everyone knew exactly how worthless those were. And once the Appalachian Alliance gained double-A status, even that obligatin wouldn't be worth the holofax it was printed on.
John tried to convince himself that the megacorporate leadership would find it in its own best interests to take care of the workers.

His commlink signalled a call from Alice. <<Turn on your trid - live on Horizon News.>>

Her voice made him worry.

The 3-d image showed a huge crowd of people - thousands of men and women of all races crowded into a huge square. The banner at the top of the screen let viewers know they were seeing Haymarket Square in Chicago, with an estimated 30,000 people turned out for the International Workers' Day celebration. Of course, May First, May Day.

At the podium was none other than Lawrence Storken himself - as usual over the past couple of weeks, he was vigorously - and pointlessly - denouncing NeoNET and the Appalachian Alliance. Of course with tomorrow's signing in the bag, it was all just for show.
And then he said something that set John's hair on end.

"So now to usher in a new era in the battle for workers' rights, it is with both humility and a sense of collective pride that I officially hand over the presidencyof the International Miners' Union to His Honor Thomas Dean."

The crowd erupted with applause and John's heart sank.

Where the HELL had this come from? Who'd've thought old Storken had a move like this in him? It must have been arranged between just the men.

As John watched Thomas Dean take the stand and open his remarks, he automatically started calling up data files on the legendary champion of the common man. But he didn't need any data files to know the history of the dignified, gray-haired gentleman on the screen, who was now joined on the stand by Arthur Vogel, Senator Edward Billings, and Louisa Mayhurst-Washington.

As a litigator, he'd been more successful than any man alive at challenging the limits of corporate extraterritoriality in high courts around the globe. Then he'd gone to the United Nations as the UCAS Ambassador. As head of the UN Committee on Human Rights, he was widely credited with eliminating corruption and waste and radically improving the lives of millions. He had personally authored the text of Resolution 3031 on Local Rights, and was known to be close personal friends with Secretary General Balaji Padiyar.
He had left the UN to become Chief Justice on the War Crimes Tribunal at the Hague, where the rumors were that he spent most of his time on backroom deals stripping corporate support from oppressive tyrants so that they could be more effectively prosecuted - and prosecute them he had - at least four dictators were now in prison for crimes against their people thanks to Dean's efforts.

He had retired three years ago. Looked like that was no longer true.

His speech had been brief, but had received thunderous applause. Now Billings was on the stand talking about the importance of unions and the rights of labor to organize, when Alice came into his office - "John, call for you. I think you'd better take it." She glanced at the trideo unit, obviously adjusting it with her headware.

There on the screen was Thomas Dean. He'd been on live trid not 20 seconds ago! Now here he was making a personal call -
"All right, shyster - all bets are off. You're not bullying children and glorified social workers any more. You're dealing with me now. See you at the meeting tomorrow." And he hung up.

Conall
Saturday 7/26/70 22:36:30

Dropping to his knees, Conall’s hands buried themselves in Wolf’s fur. He look straight into his eyes, with a resolve he had never known before.

“My soul is yours.”

Wolf returned his look with the same intensity. The young shaman felt a power course through him like he had never known. A heavy wind rose up, pushing back the misty fog that had surrounded the canal. All around him, things became brighter. Sounds became sharper. Conall felt everything.

Wolf rose up and took off, his pawed legs hitting the paved street and echoing in the deserted Belfast street. Behind the mighty beast, Conall followed as close as he could. At every turn, his level of panic increased, as the agile beast got further and further away. Every second felt like an eternity as he raced after the animal, barely keeping up.

Conall ran like he had never ran before. With each breath, he could feel a fire burning in his lungs. His throat was dry. His palms felt rough. The cold air that ran through his air and on his face did nothing to cool him off. The shaman felt as if his entire body and soul were burning up.

Hold on Etain. I’m almost there.

Rounding a corner, Conall was taken by a brief moment of panic. Wolf was gone. The mentor spirit that had guided him in the crooked streets of Belfast was nowhere in sight. Looking up at the sky, Conall suddenly realized that it was clear. A full moon was shining brightly, slowly illuminating the street. In the distance, something from another world howled in the night.

Go my cub. Fight like a true warrior.

And Conall heard it. He heard the muffled screams of his sister. He heard the sick and twisted laughter of her aggressors. He saw their grotesque silhouettes bent over Etain. He saw the sick pleasure their were taking in destroying the most beautiful and precious thing in the world.

The panic and fear that had filled Conall was lifted off his soul in an instant. The shaman only felt a single thing. Wrath. Pure raw wrath.

The first goon never knew what hit him. Out of nowhere, something jumped at him, roaring like a mad beast. Conall grabbed a hold the elf and threw him head first in the brick wall he had been close to. Patrick jumped back, his legs getting caught in his pants and dropping him on his back. The two other elves simply watched in horror as something out of a bad dream to a hold of their friend, and rammed his head squarely into the wall a few dozen times, sending shards of bloody skull raining around. When the wall was finally painted red, the limped body of their friend slowly slid to the pavement, the remain of it’s shattered head quickly forming a gory pool of deep red and brain matter.

Both Patrick and his soon to be dead friend simply froze on the spot, eyes widen in horror at what had just happened. The thing that stood a few feet from them was not an elf… it wasn’t even a man anymore. Wolf’s mask was on every trait of Conall beings. His hair was longer, and streaked with black. Little patches of fur had coated his pointed ears, which seemed even longer. His jaw and nose protruded forward, showing a mouth filled with razor sharp teeth. His exposed arms and chest were covered with a thick brown fur.

As he simply stood, watching the two helpless elves, blood trickled down from his hands and to the pavement. Conall breathing sounded like thunder… like a rumbling cloud ready to explode.

The shaman growled and hissed, like an angry beast.

The second goon finally snapped out of his terrified stance, bravely advance and throwing a clumsy fist toward the wolf shaman. Dodging the blow with ease, Conall caught the man’s arm with both hands, bringing it down hard and fast on his raised knee. Like dry wood, the arm broke at the elbow with such force that the snapped bone tore through the man’s evening shirt, spray a mist of blood. Yelling his pain at the top of his lungs, widen eyes locked on his mutilated arm, the elf knees became weak.

As he stood, kneeling in front of Conall, tears running down his cheeks and prayers of mercy flowing out of his lips, the feral shaman took his head between his hands. An inhuman scream of pain echoed in the night as Conall buried both his thumbs in the goon’s eyes. A few seconds later, the screams stopped. His jolted nervous system made had his body still twitching when Conall released him.

Patrick had pulled his pants up, and held his knife in a shaky hand. He watched in horror as Conall’s body distorted itself, as his limbs changed form. He watched as Conall transformed into a wolf.

The animal Conall had become growled at Patrick, showing rows of razor sharp teeth. He made one step forward.

“Dddd…. Don’t come near me! I am a son of the O’Do..”

The rest of Patrick’s warning was lost with blood filed his mouth. Conall’s teeth sunk into his exposed throat, ripping arteries, muscles and flesh to shreds. As he was tossed around on the ground like a rag doll, Patrick would have probably screamed if his vocal cords weren’t hanging outside of his body.

Even when he stopped moving, even after his eyes went blank and into the back of his head, Conall’s didn’t release his grip. He ripped at the dead elf’s throat with increased ferocity. When Patrick’s head only stood attached to his body by his spinal column, Conall went to work on his face.

A few seconds later, there wasn’t much left of Patrick O’Donnell’s head. His face was torn to shreds, his scalp peeled off and his eyes leaking.

With Patrick’s flesh still fresh in his mouth, Conall howled at the moon.

Etain
Saturday 07/26/70 22:36:00

Heaven's gates won't open up for me With these broken wings I'm fallin'
And all I see is you
These city walls ain't got no love for me I'm on the ledge of the eighteenth story
And oh I scream for you
Come please I'm callin'
And all I need from you
Hurry I'm fallin'
Show me what it's like To be the last one standing
And teach me wrong from right And I'll show you what I can be
Say it for me
Say it to me
And I'll leave this life behind me Say it if it's worth saving me


The song echoed inside her head as time defied all logic now. It warped and twisted inside her head. I couldn’t have been more than mere minutes since Patrick had started his retribution, and began to strip her of every last shred of dignity she had. Yet it felt like she had laid beneath him for hours, tears blinding her as her body went limp and the fire died inside of her with every ounce of blood spilled from her hand.

Somewhere in a far away place, while Patrick moved above her grunting and she tried to close herself off mentally from everything happening to her, she felt a cold wet nose brush her cheek and smelled the sweet scent of puppy breath. She would swear to this day that the protective canine's spirit sat beside her to let her know help was coming. There was no doubt, Wolf took care of the family of his brethren.

Help came by her brother’s swift feet, only gone was his sense of overprotectiveness, replaced with pure animalistic brutality. Time warped again, in an instant Conall was there to save her, but what happened next played out in painfully slow motion. Every horrific image of each young man being taken down by her brother’s hand was magnified in her field of vision. As every move became more brutal and more blood was shed, the more Conall became Wolf. She had never seen this side of her brother before, and she prayed to the Lady Brigid that she never would again.

Somewhere along the way she had simply run out of screams, she continued to try but there was no voice left in her. She had seen and experienced enough horror tonight to last her 70 lifetimes. She lay there trembling in the trash-strewn and damp alley, her knees drawn up tight to her chin, her left hand still leaking dark slick blood while wrapped in folds of crushed and sullied rose velvet. Her eyes were wide with the sort of glazed look that only comes with severe trauma and the onset of shock.

She could still make out a familiar outline of her brother’s form now melded with Wolf’s and she just kept softly whispering, repeating the same words over and over.

“I’m sorry. It’s gone.”

As Conall approached she could see he was covered up to his elbows in blood that was not his own. Only it didn’t register in her scrambled mind correctly and she blinked a number of times as she tried to process everything and couldn’t. She just slipped closer to delirium.

“It’s gone, Conall. I’m sorry.”

The words didn’t make sense to Conall right then and there but in time they would. It was the only thing she could manage to whisper as she started slipping in and out of consciousness. Finally, she was thankful her world faded to black.

Etain
Saturday 7/26/70 22:37:30

And then through the depths of her confusion and despair - the wails of the banshee...was she damned, then? Damned for her disloyalty? Damned for being sullied? Had an enraged Moon Maiden sent them to visit her with retribution? Or were they merely the ghosts of other lasses bereft of honor as herself, keening in sympathy from a more peaceful place than this?

Conall
A night of blood, an hour without mercy.

He howled and howled, and then, one by one, others howled with him. As he lifted his grief-enraged voice to the moon, his brothers drew steadily closer from all directions, joined by a lone whimper....
Turning, he forgot his foes and saw the fount of his fury - there lay his sweet sister, torn, defiled, broken, speaking to him in pleas, in supplications for forgiveness unneeded, confessing wrongs long past mattering. He placed a paw upon her breast, and paw would not stand for hand, and he became himself again - or that other self - and his rage slowly gave way to hurt and tears - and then he noticed that the howling of his brothers was getting closer, and that these brothers drove cars and carried guns.

Etain
Saturday 07/26/70 22:37:55

The wailing inside her head was too much. She had been wrapped in nothingness, a comforting inky black void amidst angry and violent emotions on the periphery. With a slight shudder she was brought back to her now destroyed reality and she blinked hard as the light of the full moon was almost blinding. The wailing screams hadn’t stopped, they were growing ever louder.

Fresh tears sprung to her already red and puffy eyes as the faint beginnings of bruises across her cheekbones began to show. Through the tears she could see Conall kneeling down beside her, she could feel his concern and comforting touch on her skin. Things were starting to fall into perspective. The banshee-like screams that had brought her around dissolved into their true form, the sirens of the approaching Garda vehicles.

She looked up at her brother’s face, her eyes pleading as she avoided looking at the carnage strewn around her. Her voice was soft and it even cracked as she spoke.

“Conall, you have to go. Before they get here. Go, please.”

It broke her heart to have to tell her brother to leave her but her concern was that the Garda wouldn’t see this as anything but extreme carnage, no matter the preceding circumstances.

“Please,” She was positively begging now. “Go Conall.”

John
Thursday 5/1/70 14:21:20

Dean: "All right, shyster - all bets are off. You're not bullying children and glorified social workers any more. You're dealing with me now. See you at the meeting tomorrow."

When John motions to offer a reply, the line goes dead. What, the? The lawyer turns to his assistent instead, raising an eyebrow slightly.

John: "How very impolite!"

He puts up a comical expression of the brit being anoyed by the burely american for a moment. The short performace manages to cast a smile from Alice´s serious face, which he replies. Then he turns back to business.

John: "Ok, please send a card and some niceties to congratulate that bully, then I need ..."

You´re not treating me like some war-criminal All the sympathy, that Lawrence Storken had summoned in the elf, all the doubt he had been feeling about what he was about to do, are washed away.

Thursday 5/1/70 16:33:07

He nods at the raport of the intel-team´s leader. This is starting to get on his nerves. Tomorrow´s meeting will no doubt draw heavy media-couverage and the elf dosn´t like it at all, to go into a fight blind-folded, even if it was only for the first round.

John: "Ok, go on and get back at me erery 2 hours or when you make some headway." With a mental click swaps the line to Alice. "Give me Lanier."

John
Friday 5/2/70 11:30:20

He is slightly nervous, as he sits in tha back of his car, while it drives toward the 'signing ceremony'. It is not a fearfull or inconfident nervousness, but more like the aticipating feeling before a first date. Finally he will meet a real oponent, someone that will be a chalange. It´s almost like in those old comic-books. The first face to face encounter, that builds up the tension until the final showdown, between the charismatic, glorious hero and the subtile, intellectual vilain. I am not the vilain here! he stops himself thinking along that line.
He sighs almost inaudiably, as he doublechecks his appearance in the mirror. His attire is only slightly less formal than back at the signing of his contract with NeoNET. He wares the gold and lapislazuli Franklin-christoph fountain pen again, though he doubts he will use it today. Dean obviously has no intention to accept the terms John had negociated with Stroken. Terms the elven lawyer had found to be fairly favourable for the workingforce -if not for the IMU- in the tight confinements of what his contract with NeoNET allowed. No more velvet gloves.
John fingers the family emblem on the golden pocket-watch. 'Sola Virtus Invicta'. No longer is the ticking bothering him, no more is he taunted by children´s voices.
Thomas had blinded him, to some extend and that was the only thing, that really bothered him, but he could wait and play his cards close to the chest. He could have rushed intel-gethering, by hiering external assets or sending Schrödinger´s Cats into some foraign data-bases, but he guesed that was just what Dean was hoping for, to catch NeoNET redhanded. He could have asked Zinny about Dean´s contacts to Equity -he was dead sure they existed- but she wouldn´t like what he would do with the info. He could use Ian to gain access to inside knowledge about the IUM, but that would bind him, to protect some family´s interests while fulfilling his contract, which might not be entirely possibe.
So here he was, flying on instruments mostly, through what might become a hailstorm of public attention. Still he was contend that he would maneuver these shallows. Even if he did not win this battle, he should be abled to manage a stale-mate. He will win this war.

John
Friday 5/2/70 12:00:00

The exact moment John's AR chonometer clicked over to noon, that was when Thomas Dean's tall, gray-haired figure pushed open the double-doors of the conference room Old West-style and strode into the room.
John and his team rose from the sitting chairs and sofas that lined the wall and approached the seats on their side of the negotiating table, John in the center. Dean stopped opposite him and gave a smirk.
Copies of the agreement - the one they'd thought they'd reached with Storken - lay at each place on the table, but everyone by now knew that was a formality.
Dean didn't offer to shake hands. "I've sat across the table from genocidal dictators, great dragons, two popes and a grab-bag of triple-A CEOs and heads of state. But never a Mob mouthpiece. Oh, sorry, former mouthpiece. Now you make a living defending corporate rights to unfettered pollution and racial exploitation. So, since you've come up so far in the world," Dean continued as he took his seat, followed by his staff, "why don't you get us started by giving me one good reason why my workers should give up their right to organize?"

Etain & Conall
Saturday 7/26/70 22:39:00

"Please,” she was positively begging now. “Go Conall.”

But he did not go. He just sat by her side, his blood-drenched hands stroking her hair, pausing only to draw her skirts down around her legs, and then, as an afterthougt, to replace his own trousers, shed during the transformation. Although her heart ached at the thought of his fate, she soon lost herself in the comfort of his steady loyalty.

But there was scant time for such feelings, for within barely a minute the alley was flooded with white light from a Garda patrol boat plying the canal. Only a moment later two patrol cars blocked the other end of the alley, and officers began to get out.

They stopped at the edge of the scene of carnage. "Blood of Our Lord," gasped one. Then, after a moment's silence, during which Etain gazed up into Conall's eyes, an older voice started giving instructions to his men. "Call more units - enough to seal off the area from 300 meters out. Tighter'n a crab's arse you'll get that perimeter sealed, lad. Now, you, get His Bleeding Masterfulness O'Holloran out of whatever pox-ridden whore's bed he's warming tonight - tell him it's time to earn his pay. O'Leary, hand me that medkit, and the rest o' ye hang back."

The elf slowly approached. "Master and Mistress O'Neill? Master Sergeant Maddox of the Garda here. It looks like you could use some help."

John
Friday 5/2/70 12:04:07

Well, at least this impertinent old man has the virtue of timelyness. John wonders if Dean´s lack of etiquette is calculated or actually in character. The insulting address obviously is, but the elf´s british temper has never been one to be easily aroused. He had anticipated the man´s rudeness and so, dosn´t waste time standing with an extended hand. Still, when they take their seats, he offers his new oponent in negotiation a reserved smile, both to stay polite even where this bravo was not and because the show he put up amused him sligtly.

John: "Thanks, the pleasure is all mine, Mr. Dean! So, if you want to forego the pleasentries and go right to business, I will tell you, why we won´t offer you any reason for our workers to give up organizing. Because we don´t ask them to!"

His smile broadens as if talking to an infant. If he wants me to underastimate him, by playing the gung-ho cowboy, he can as well think he got me.

John: "We only ask them to abstain from membership in an organization under the IMU´s umbrella. I think we both know, that all this is not about the workers loosing influence, but about union functionaries like yourself loosing it."

The lawyer is itching to play his next card, but keeps himself from saying too much, too soon.

Etain
Saturday 07/26/70 22:41:04

My help already came in the form of my brother you stupid git, where were you 5 minutes ago?

She started to grimace as the spotlights from the Garda boat in the canal that shown down the lane, illuminating her and Conall, the carnage around them as well as the Master Sergeant that was approaching them slowly, medkit in hand. She focused what little concentration she could manage at the Master Sergeant who called himself Maddox, her eyes were glassy but she nodded slightly as she tried to speak.

“Yes Master Sergeant, I’ve been ra….” She stopped herself short. She didn’t want to say the word aloud and admit it to herself, let alone to others, to strangers.

“Brutally assaulted.”

To prove her point she pulled her hand from the folds of velvet and weakly held it up, displaying the immediate physical damage to him. As soon as she did so Conall could see the full extent of what Patrick had done to her physically and immediately he could see exactly which finger was missing. Etain’s comment of “It’s gone” was now making sense as the ring that tied and bound them so closely together was nowhere to be seen.

Conall
Saturday 07/26/70 22:41:30

When Etain brought her hand back up, Conall’s knuckles turned white under the coat of still fresh blood. Even thought Wolf’s enemies now laid disfigured, bathing in their own vile blood, Conall could still feel anger burning inside of him. Others would pay. They would pay in flesh.

As the Garda Sergeant slowly approached, medkit in hand, Conall’s primitive instinct took a hold of him again. He sprung off from Etain’s side, putting himself between his beloved twin and officer of the law. The shaman simply looked like a madman. His hair was rough and tumbled, covered in a mix of wet blood and sweat. Deep rivers of red ran from his mouth and down his neck, where they met with a bloody handprint left by one of Patrick’s late friends. From Conall’s hand, fresh blood was still slowly trickling down, hitting the pavement in a morbid rhythm.

With what sounded like a low growl, Conall simply barred the way. No one would touch his sister. No one.

Etain
Saturday 07/26/70 22:41:47

As Conall moved to stand between her and the Master Sergeant her heart both swelled and broke at the same time. He was always ever-loyal to her and she had simply brushed her brother, her very own twin, aside for some jackass who was just using her. She winced as the thoughts pained her deeply, but there would be time later to atone for her actions. She gathered her strength and ran the fingers of her good hand through her hair feeling them get tangled amidst streaks of blood that was not her own.

Etain slowly rose to her feet, stumbling just slightly so that she had to put out her hand to steady herself. When her fingers touched the muscled shoulder of her brother she foolishly took advantage of the situation.

“Conall, please.”

Her lips kept moving but she made no sound. Where her hand rested on Conall’s shoulder became quite warm, but it was a reassuring sensation to her brother as he had felt it many a time growing up. In an instant both of their heads were filled with swirling emotions and Etain grimaced as it was almost overwhelming, the amount of hate, anger and rage still boiling inside her brother. She did everything in her power to hold back her own thoughts and emotions as to not overload him, but the element of fear still leaked through to him quite powerfully.

Conall, please. I need his help. I need the medical attention as much as I need him on our side to make sure nothing happens to you. He won’t hurt me, he’s the Garda.

Her eyes remained locked on the Master Sergeant as she used Conall for the support she needed to stay on her feet.

Conall
Saturday 07/26/70 22:41:47

When Etain’s soft and trembling hand came to rest on his shoulder, Conall’s thoughts weren’t just his own anymore. As he felt his anger flow through the link and to his sister, the part of his brain that was still a man’s did it’s best to calm itself. His whole being was filled with the darkest of things… things he didn’t want his sister to experience. He could feel the still warm blood on his flesh mixed in with the cool night breeze on Etain’s bare skin. His senses felt both sharp and detached. He felt her pain… and not the one from her mutilated hand. Conall suddenly felt terribly fragile. He felt vulnerable and afraid of things to come.

Slowly, his breathing started to slow down. The rush of the hunt was passing, and slowly, the young shaman was regaining control of himself.

He wrapped one powerful arm around his sister’s waist, taking her arm over his shoulder and neck to support her. He saw his own golden eyes through Etain’s.

“I’m sorry sister. I was late… I’m sorry I left you.”

When Conall spoke up, his own voice felt almost alien to his ears. It sounded coarse and raspy.

“My… My sister is hurt…” he simply said to the police officer.

John
Friday 5/2/70 12:05:00

"Yeah, that's right, youngster, this IMU deal goes south, and I'll be in the poorhouse." Dean allowed himself a brief chuckle before continuing with a straight face. "Look, call it whatever you like - you are essentially asking these workers to voluntarily relinquish their right to be members of a powerful international trade union, in exchange for membership in a management-run enterprise union. Now, my first question is, what possible guarantee can you give them that NeoNET won't just scrap the whole thing the moment they go extraterritorial and become a law unto themeselves? Second, why don't you dig real deep and show me just one example of ork, troll, or dwarf workers not seeing their livelihoods plummet upon any shift from a trade union to an enterprise union structure?"

John
Friday 5/2/70 12:06:00

John: "Well, ..." The lawyer smiles benignly. "some people are considered materially poor by any standards. Othes just show poor judgement or etiquette."

He could sue the basdard for three different insults even without flexing his mental muscles, but there is no sense to indulge in such patty harressing at that point.

John: "Still others feel poor, when they lose some of their relative wealth or influence."

He is totally aware, that there is no example of the kind Dean is asking for, but there are planty for workers loosing their job for not shifting to an enterprise-union, which didn´treally improve their lot, either.

John: "I can tell you, why the Appalachian Alliance wouldn´t break it´s own prommis ... reputation. Some people want to paint the worldin black and white, because it suits their purposes or simply because thats convenient. But since we are all intelligent people, we know, that it´s much more complex then that. It comes in uncountable shades of gray and any PR that makes a corp apear in a lighter gray is pure cash."

John
Friday 5/2/70 12:07:00

"So, essentially you concede that once the Appalachian Alliance goes double-A, there will be absolutely no legal protection of the workers' right to organize, and that they should simply trust the corp, even with constant changes in its management over the years, to forego eliminating the union out of fear of bad publicity? And once the corp unilaterally changes its laws to forbid labor organization, how will the workers counter a massive PR campaign by the corp? Come now, boy, are you really trying to tell me that NeoNET is afraid of the bad publicity marbles a bunch of freshly disorganized, uneducated orks will be able to throw at it once they have disavowed their brotherhood in the international organization? You're saying, no, there is no legal guarantee, but trust us because we're afraid of you?
"And even if they do get to keep the union, you're not going to convince anyone that they aren't just as good as unrepresented with some travesty of an enterprise union - it's like telling a military unit that they are better off going it alone without the help of the rest of their army, and to let the other side run its command center."

Conall & Etain
Saturday 07/26/70 22:41:50

Master Sergeant Liam Maddox had been with the Garda for nigh on two decades. He'd seen some right ugly things. And he'd seen the nobility get up to some downright ignoble stunts. But he'd never seen anything to match the scene before him. Scattered about the alley were the bits and pieces of three young men - he'd normally dispense with the newfangled wifi tomfoolery and just count heads to see how many bodies the pieces like made up, but he could only spot two bloody spheres, and his commlink was sure there were three PANs mixed in with that mess, and yep, sure enough and there were at least five hands he could make out. But the worst was that names attached to those comms - all three of the Danaan, and one Patrick O'Donnell himself.
And standing amidst it all were the O'Neill twins, a bare hairsbreadth lower in rank than O'Donnell - though lower they were, and it would sure and tell in the end. He naked but for trousers, and covered in blood from crown to heel - his face was dark with the juices of men - Maddox suspected that once those trousers came off there'd be just as much blood underneath - he'd seen that trick before. But she it was that broke his heart. He'd heard her sing live at the Midsummers concert and she'd brought tears to his eyes - she was what the nobility oughtta have been - a shining piece of the glory of his beloved Tir. But he'd caught what she'd started but could not bring herself to finish saying, and he knew that - right or not - that light would ne'er be the same again. But there she stood, maimed though she be, on her own feet, protecting her brother as he - the scene was coming together in his seasoned policeman's eye - as he had protected her.

With that realization his initial shock gave way to waves of respect - for he saw now that the nobility of her blood ran true to her brother. And sure it would be tested still, for there'd be hell to pay for tonight's work, and hell knew justice none.

And his duty was clear. But as long as they did not leave, and no one (most especially the snoops) got in, he had only to await O'Holloran. In the meantime, the handling of things was up to his discretion.

He knelt before young Etain - and the gesture felt right to him - and taking her hand pulled her gently to the ground, opening his medkit. "Afraid it'll be naught but me for the nonce, milady. Can't risk any but my own people coming through at the moment. Master Conall, a man'll be here soon, I think you'll know him, Inspector O'Holloran. You might want to make yourself presentable while I look after your sister. Not to worry," he confided kindly to her, "my medtech rating was reupped not more than, oh, sometime or other since the time you were born."

Etain
Saturday 07/26/70 22:42:35

When Maddox kneeled before her and gently took her hand, guiding her back to her knees and then was charming while he tried to put her at ease, she couldn’t help but smile softly. The feeling was short-lived however once he got to work on her left hand and she made the mistake of looking at the damage. What was left of her ring-finger made her shudder and feel sick but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the bloody nub that remained.

Stray tears traced a now well-worn path over her cheeks. Maddox may have assumed it was from pain or discomfort, but her hand was numb. The tears were from loss plain and simple. Seeing her family’s signet ring on her right hand just drove the loss home even further.

What had she done to deserve this?! Feelings of guilt and shame started creeping in on her already fragile mind. Was this retribution, payback if you will for casting her brother aside for “love”? The thoughts moved through the link as freely as water before she could pull them back. She drew a shallow but long breath as Maddox started cleaning and treating the damaged finger. She tried to be strong, she had to be for her brother but inside all she wanted to do was curl up and sleep, dreaming of better times when she was little and life wasn’t so complicated. But sleep would come later, much much later.

When it was clear she wasn’t going to die from her injuries, she was left to sit in the now even uglier alley and wait for their fate to be decided. She was thankful when another member of the Garda screwed up the courage enough to make it to the end of the alley without throwing up to bring a blanket for her. When she was wrapped up as tightly as she could draw the blanket around her Etain’s gaze moved back to her brother’s eyes.

Don’t you dare apologize to me brother. If anyone should be apologizing it’s me. I’m scared Conall, I’m scared of what’s going to happen next. I can’t let anything happen to you, I can’t lose…

She couldn’t bear to think it. There was already too much loss in her life tonight, she wouldn’t let anything happen to her brother for protecting her. It would. Not. Happen.

Conall
Saturday 07/26/70 22:43:11

Seeing Maddox motion his sister to the ground, Conall crouched down to help her. Most of his anger had now passed, replaced by worries. Countless worries. He felt a ball curl up his throat, cutting short any words that would have decided to rise out. A cold knot tied itself in his stomach. As he watched pearls of tear roll down his twin’s amber eyes, he felt his own world melt into cries. Kneeling beside her, he passed a bloodstained arm around her shoulders, touching the side of her head with his own forehead. Under his rough and dirty skin, hers felt like silk.

Even through the blanket, he could feel her shiver to the core. Patrick had broken something beautiful… something Conall could never fix. No matter how hard he would try, things would never be the same again. With all his soul, the young shaman wished he could have gone back in time. His own jealousy had blinded him away from his duty. He had left Etain’s side. He had abandoned her because of his own ego.

A lonely tear fell from his right eye, washing away a small trail of blood.

Officer Maddox spoke to him, but Conall heard very little. He could only hear guilt screaming in his head.

Etain finally turned toward him. He once again encircled her wit both his arms, putting his forehead to hers, eyes closed, his nose next to hers.

Don’t worry sister. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. Not ever. It’s all going to be alright. It’s all alright. It’s over.

He hugged her closer.

Conall & Etain
Saturday 7/26/70 23:14:54

Once Maddox was done treating Etain's hand, Conall had just sat silently with his arm around her, knowing they were not free to go, and disinclined to part from her even long enough to clean himself. After a time, someone had brought them coffee, and Maddox had gathered the rest of Conall's clothes to him, which now laid beside him as he cradled his sister in his arms.
Neither had much idea how much time had passed, though it was scarcely half an hour. Cars had come and gone, but they'd paid no heed, and so they took no note when a pair of booted feet approached.
The feet stopped before them, and a youngish elf squatted down, entering their field of vision. Conall knew him for Sean O'Holloran, Inspector Sean O'Holloran now.
The young policeman pointedly glanced around him at the carnage, as yet unprocessed by investigators. He looked down at his expensive footwear, already ruined from sloshing through blood.
He caught Etain's eye, and she saw there what she thought was sympathy seeping through his attempt at professional detachment.
His eyes went back to the ground, and when he raised them to speak they were on Conall.

"Don't say anything. Not to me or anyone else. I've been in touch with me superiors, and some others of influence, including your father. We'd like to assume - strictly pending a more formal inquiry, mind you - that Mistress O'Neill is simply a victim here. We'd also like to assume - and I stress without any judgement regarding the presence or lack of justification - that these deaths were by your hand, Conall O'Neill. Whether ye agree with these assumptions is immaterial. We are going with them until we know more, and I repeat that neither of you is to speak at all. Based on these provisional assumptions, we are going to bring in a chopper for Mistress O'Neill, which will transport her back to your lands. Master O'Neill, as well, will be remanded to the custody of your house - your father has accepted stewardship o'er your person and pledged his honor on your good faith. Still and all, for your own protection, ye must be transported under guard to the house, by car. Ye can stay together here until the air transport arrives, and then it must be as I've said. Now I'll be brooking no argument. Am I well understood?"

Etain
Saturday 07/26/70 23:15:24

Etain stared blankly at Inspector O’Holloran. She didn’t show emotion because other than the slight glance and the feeling of sympathy she picked up on, his words weren’t truly for her. The were for Conall’s ears. She had remembered Sean from her brother’s class only because he was constantly the topic of hurtful whispers and ugly gossip. Of course when he was dismissed from school the rumors never ceased they only became more sordid.

The fact that so far both Garda members that interacted with the twins had shown signs of sympathy and kindness towards her was not lost on Etain, it was one of those things that may come in handy later when it counted most.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when O’Holloran began discussing how the twins would be removed from the scene. More over how they would be separated by land and by air. She started to tremble and shake her head at the thought of being separated from her brother. She pursed her lips and was about to disagree with O’Holloran and immediately thought better of it, staying silent as instructed. Instead she squeezed her brother’s hand tighter and refused to let go.

Conall
Saturday 07/26/70 23:15:29

Conall felt Etain’s grasp tighten itself on his hand. He had already left his sister’s side once too many times. He would never make that error again. Never.

From his kneeled position, Conall slowly stood up, his hand still holding his sister’s. Just by standing up, the young shaman knew from experience that he had just made the already tense situation escalate. But he had made a promise to Etain. A promise he would keep with his last breath.

He spoke slowly and deliberately. His voice sounded as cold as the alley they were all standing it.

“I’m not on with you, mate. That be a fierce request you be makin’. There ain’t no bloody way in hell I be leavin’ me sister’s side, and ye damn well know it.”

Releasing his own grip on Etain’s hand, Conall took a slight step forward, closing in the gap between himself and the Garda inspector. A few inches away from his face, Sean could smell the fresh blood on the wolf shaman.

“Now, assay you can stick your assumptions where we be all knowing they should go. And stick em far. I don’t be bloody carin’ what has to be done, but I am not leaving my sister’s side.”

John
Friday 5/2/70 12:07:20

John: "I am dissappointed that you see employers and employees as enemies." He swaps back to Dean´s former question. "Anyway, I am sure, you are aware, that we could give you a multitude of numbers, that show people keeping their livingstandards by switching to an enterprise union. You would undouptably present some statistical wizardry, that seems to invalidate our examples. We would point out, why your arguments don´t aply in this specific situation and we could go back and forth like this the whole night..."

With another opponent at the negotiation-table, the elf probably would have gone through this tiering proces. He probably wouldn´t convert Dean to the ..., to his side, and there was not much to win by impressing the union representative´s entourage. On the other hand, Dean would easyly counter out all the statistics and examples, NeoNET had allready used in the last weeks. Of course John had contingencies -and contingencies for the contingencies- but they would be better aplyed in the upcomming media-battle. Mentioning that John had the numbers to back his call, should be enough, to take the force out of that half of Dean´s double-jab.
The older man seems to be a man of action, so he will probably forgoe this opportunity, to spend the whole day and night, to gain some tiny bit of information, in favor of going fast forward right to negotiations. If he dosn´t, that would give the elf precious information about his opponent in turn. So the lawyer swaps forth again.

John: "Let´s skip that circeling stage and start talking in earnest. As much as you put up a show of only beeing here today for the chance to try insulting me face to face, I am sure you didn´t put up your admirable fight for the good cause at the UN with vailed threats and condescending adresses alone. We made a proposal, which you find unacceptable as it seams, so why don´t you make a counterproposal?"

John
Friday 5/2/70 12:08:00

"Counteroffer? There is no counteroffer. My people are already IMU members. The IMU already exists. It is you that wants them to give up their right to membership, and have offered nothing of any value in exchange. Counteroffer? Our counteroffer is 'No thank you.'
"That said, I am wondering whether there is anything further for us to discuss today - or ever."

Conall & Etain
Saturday 7/26/70 23:16:00

O'Holloran pursed his lips and thought for a moment. "She'd have to go with you by car. It'd mean an extra hour before she's safe and at home. And you'll be in restraints until we get there. If that's what ye want, 'tis your own call."

John
Friday 5/2/70 12:08:50

Couldn´t spare the change, to tell that to me, before you hung up, eh?

John: "Well then, maybe we should talk to somebody else, no?"

Fortunately, with NeoNET´s plans gone public, they where allready at a point of no return. Stopping to negotiate would only lead to a los-los-situation. NeoNET wouldn´t go through with it´s plans without the IMU issue being resolved. In turn, the mining-stock-bubble that the anaouncement of the Appalachian Alliance had started would burst and the small companies shares would take a dive. Some -even of those, that hadn´t been softened up for NeoNET´s takeover attampts- wouldn´t survive that crash, costing many miners their jobs. The others, desperate to make their shareholders happy, would fire even more people or rationalize their costs drastically. Finally a dreckload of companies and workers would bag the AA to goble them up, even at the price of their IMU-membership. It would cost NeoNET a bit more -and cost RFS a million a day- but it would hit the IMU more and the workers worst.
Ok strong man, done playing the sulking child? If you´ve nothing else to say, let´s just talk! The lawyer braces himself for a long and boring discussion.

John: "Shell we just start at the beginning? ..."

The elf pulls an AR-drawer open and puts up soma charts... old charts. In the elf´s mind, he replays the lyrics of an old song. 'The only sound advice, that´s carryed me through life: When the cards are stacked against you, play the Joker in the pack ...' He isn´t going to do that. He won´t tell anything new, but going through all the stuff he talked about to Stroken in the last weeks, will take atleast the whole afternoon and evening, if not the night. For sure, Dean will have prepaired numbers, that counter this material. In the end, Dean would 'win' this day, but John won´t give any of his jokers away. If the union-man went too fare ahead, he would play out one or two of his minor contingencies -not enough to to take the lead and surely not all of them- just enough to bring him a bit closer to a stale mate.
If Dean goes through with it, in the end he won´t have gained much and maybe even gained a false impression of weekness from John. The lawyer on the other hand, will have gained precious time, to get his intelligence together and find some of Dean´s rivals inside the IMU, as well.
If Dean went off canceling the negociations for the day, this would even become a pr-victory for NeoNET´s cause. People expected little to come around from such negotiations, but they seldom accepted guys who stoped talking all together in such a desperate situation.

John
Saturday 5/3/70 11:59:51

Sitting in his Boston Headquaters high-security brifing room, John grudgingly listens to his intelligence network´s meager catch. Not much new about Dean, his friends and fiends. A bit more about Louisa and Vogel. The elf could hit himself, for not rushing the aggreement with Stroken to be signed before May, 1st. Maybe this mass could have been averted this way.
As expected, yesterdays 'negotiations' had brought about nothing new. As expected, Dean had not done him the favour to outright stop talking. As expected, the union-man had some material to counter the old stuff, John had put up, but better to hear it right away, then in the news. As expected it had beeen boring. After a 13-hour marathon with only three tiny breaks to have a snack and lose some coffee, they had finally parted - Dean having the upper hand for the time being. Many a time, John had been teased, to just spell out the truth about the devastation Dean´s iron adherance to his point would cause, but better to bring this up in the media on his own terms, then have his words twisted in his mouth by the IMU´s spin-doctors. In the age of cybersensors and nanotechnology, even a whispered word in private could do much damage to the cause, much more so, then the steep fin for a breach of confidentiality could ever win.

And so, the night went past. Noon had come quickly, as the morning had been spend by formulating a new strategy, coordinating intelligence afforts and analyzing yesterdays session.

Conall
Saturday 7/26/70 23:16:08

Conall's answer didn't take long to come out. If he had to be cuffed to remain at Etain's side, than so be it. Simply giving a few quick nods, he extended both his hands toward O'Holloran, palms up.... waiting for metal to rap itself around his wrists.

Don't worry sister. It's all going to be fine.

Conall & Etain
Saturday 7/26/70 23:16:10

O'Holloran looked down at Conall's outstretched wrists and raised his eyebrows. "Very well, we'll do it your way. But please," he said, glancing at the wrists again, "I'm not in the mood for melodrama. Now," he said, waving some waiting officers toward him, "these men are going to help get you cleaned up. The Garda is not presenting the scions of Clan O'Neill to their parents looking as you do. So you'll wash all that blood off yourself and get your all your clothes back on or we'll do it for you. Be quick about it, I'm off to fetch the van, and your sister should be in bed sooner than later." He turned on his heel and departed, as two officers, one male and one female, approached tentatively with buckets of warm water, brushes and towels.
"Ye won't be going to any fancy-dress balls, but we'll do what we can," said the woman.

John
Saturday 5/3/70 12:00:00

John's thoughts were interrupted by an icon indicating a priority message on his private line - Mile Lanier.
The NeoNET executive wasted no time with pleasantries. "You've done a brilliant job till now, John, but I sure as hell don't appreciate being blindsided like this. I want your top three response scenarios, complete with cost projections and probabilities for success, on my desk in 48 hours. I'm overseeing this stage personally."

Etain
Saturday 07/26/70 23:16:25

When O’Holloran decided not to put her brother in chains right then and there she was relieved. However when he started to suggest they were about to get “cleaned” before they were returned to their parents, an event she was not looking forward to, her fear started to get the better of her.

No photographs? No video documentation? No statements? No evidence collection? Her heart sank. They had presented Conall’s return to their parents and to inevitably what amounted to house arrest as a benefit to their status and position in society. Now it was starting to feel like it was just buying them more time to put a solid case together against him in favour of Clan O’Donnell.

Did what just happened to me mean nothing to Inspector O’Holloran? Because it was by an O’Donnell’s hand it just gets brushed aside? They bleedin’ cut off my finger! Her panic was rising, the anger mixing with the thoughts that spun inside her head. She was bordering on the verge of hysterical.

“Does the fact that he hurt me while his friends helped and looked on mean nothing to any of ye?” She asked the female officer that gingerly started to wash the blood from her face. Tears once again spilled from her eyes when the woman kept silent and tried to be cold, to keep her emotional distance from the situation and not take sides.

Etain’s anxiety was growing into paranoia, afraid of what would happen next, or worse that nothing would happen at all. In reality Patrick had already paid the ultimate price for the crime he committed, but she was afraid no one would know what really happened, why Conall did what he did. As the female officer kept working, trying to remove the blood from her hair and make her look “respectable” her tears turned into choking sobs as she gulped for air and tried to pull away from the officer. She was approaching her breaking point. From a distance Conall could feel the breakdown approaching, the first of what would likely be many to come. Inside her head she was filled with guilt and shame, she was reliving Patrick’s actions over and over. Worst of all was when he could see flashes of his own actions through her eyes.

When the officer started her attempt to wash some of the blood from the skirts of Etain’s dress it was the sensation of her skirts moving away from her legs that finally made her crack. She pushed away from the officer and backed herself up against the wall and screamed at the woman loud enough to make the other Garda officers on the scene turn and look.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!”

From the sidelines Maddox had been watching with concern. He scrambled in his medkit searching for something. Knowing that if he couldn’t get Etain calmed down soon, the inevitable break would be far worse that the side effects of a tranq patch. Finding his prize he approached her from the rear and gently brushed his hand across her arm, the sticky adhesive of the delivery system adhering the patch to her firmly.

Etain never saw him coming nor did she feel him brush her arm. She suddenly crumpled to her knees like a house of cards falling over from the slightest breeze. Her mind once awash in intense emotions and vivid colourful representations was now a fuzzy grey void. She stared blankly in the direction of anyone or anything that moved in her field of vision as she fell silent.

Conall & Etain
Saturday 7/26/70 23:40:00

Conall split his gaze between the passing, moonlit countryside, and his twin sister's sleeping figure. She was just now starting to stir, the effects of the patch fading, and he wished he was closer to her.
As it was they were barely a meter apart - she on a gurney appropriated from an ambulance and place in the back of the police van - he on a bench facing her, his hands and feet shackled to the side of the vehicle.
With them in the back rode O'Holloran, the two Garda that had cleaned them up - the male with a weapon trained on Conall, the female monitoring Etain.
There was also another Garda elf sporting a magical support insignia, watching Conall with an unblinking gaze. He'd already dispelled the twins' mindlink, and O'Holloran had expressed his hope that sterner measures would be unnecessary.

Back in the alley, Conall had shared Etain's concerns about the treatment of the crime scene, but held his tongue - hopelessly outnumbered by dozens of police on land, water, and air - not to mention the astral - now was the time to choose one's fights. He'd won the right to stay by his sister's side - making further trouble could only have endangered that precarious concession.

Etain's eyes fluttered open, and as if by instinct they went straight for his. The look they shared rendered any need for a mere spell moot. Maimed, chained, and pitilessly used though they were, the solace they took from one another surpassed the gentle ministrations of ten thousand angels.