It's an average day at the U-Dub's cantina. Students drink their Vitmo! of choice, others have a Nukit! lunch while watching a replay of the Washington Huskies' last game. People cheer when SanFran's Japanese quarterback is turned to goo by U-Dub's players.

There seems to be some disturbance near the message board screens. A few students and professors are reading something on them. Judging by their looks, news aren't good.

The depths of the physics books the raven haired teenager was reading was apparently more alluring than the protein cereal that the campus served. The once hot bowl was seated off to the side, utterly ignored. The girls waist length dark hair floated freely around her shoulders, evoking an occasional head toss to keep it out of her eyes while she studied the text on light and gravity. Something was interrupting her deep concentration and it was verging on the edge of annoying. Looking up Jessica spotted the crowd forming against the wall and decided to see what was going on. She wasn't to interested in student politics, or social clicks, or just about anything other than her grades. Her clothes reflected her taste. While most kids, and she thought of them all as a such. Ran around in 300 sweaters and jeans by Armani. Jessica dressed casually. She couldn't afford anything to expensive. Her current attire was shin high black boots with a 1 inch heal, blue jeans, and fuzzy pink pullover.

She made her way over to the crowd, at six foot she stood taller than most of the women, but on par with the men, and other metas in the area. Her height had always been a double edges sword. It allowed her to compete in a historically all men’s sport. It however intimidated men and women alike making it that much more difficult to form relationships. Not that she was terribly interested in doing that at the moment. Her display link flashed the time, she was just at the edge of being late for her Law & Ethics class with Professor Navarro. It was then that her eye caught the fax. She read it twice, her mind spun at the thought. Dead? She had just spoke to him the day before. He had thoroughly debunked her ethics argument with the ease of a veteran fencer defeating a novice. Dead. Her eyes watered and her vision wavered. The cafeteria was suddenly very big. She had to leave. She was starting to back out of the crowd when she heard a chuckle. Sorrow turned to rage. She grabbed the student, and in her anger lifted him bodily off the ground and flung him into a nearby table. "You think it's funny now laughing boy!" She took another step forward, her anger overriding common sense and more than willing to take it all out on the hapless boy. As she was descending on him the more rational part of her brain kicked in. Suddenly she felt very small. The tears that had been threatening since she read the fax now came in a flood. She made her way back to her table, grabbed her things and fled. She just ran, not really knowing where to go.

The boy was handsome. Brown hair, blue eyes, and a good six feet tall, Acton Jackson could have been a model, had he been a total pansy. The one thing wrong with his appearance was his bloodshot eyes. In addition to being a student at U-Dub, Acton was a campus drug dealer.

He was about to go to his Law & Ethics class with profesor Navarro when he decided to take a look at the electronic bulletin board that was causing such a fuss. He ambled over, and was shocked to see his favorite professor's face on the local news. Professor Navarro was dead. Worse yet, some of the other students and faculty were chuckling about it. Acton may have been a drug dealer, but he had some fragging principles.

He liked professor Navarro, who had been the only teacher who appreciated Acton's counterintuitive mind-set and biting sense of humor. While the other students thought Acton was some kind of psychopath for arguing that if most people go to hell, but dead babies go to heaven, then people should kill babies to save their souls, professor Navarro had been willing to admit that he had a point. Acton shared Navarro's delight in backing other people into a logical corner, forcing them to either come out in support of something ridiculous like baby-killing or contradict themselves. While other people usually thought Acton was arrogant and loved being the smartest kid in class way too much, the truth was Acton appreciated having someone smarter than himself to talk to. Profesor Navarro was that person.

Acton made a mental list of all the people who were laughing at Navarro's death. He saw nothing funny about the death of such a great man, not even in his current state of mild ossification. He would make them regret their sadism. He saw a classmate of his named Jessica lose her temper with one of the sadists. he had always kind of like Jessica, who was smart, good-looking, thoughtful, and athletic, a combination even rarer in women than in men. For a brief moment, Acton thought that she was about to start a fight, which would have given him a chance to oth impress her, avenge Navarro's name, and work off some steam. But Jessica simply let go of the boy and ran away. His revenge, and his attraction towards Jessica, would have to wait. He walked towards profesor Navarro's classrom, writing the names of those who had laughed at the news in his pocket secretary as he went. Checking off his name and Jessica's off on Navarro's roll sheet, he headed towards the dorms, keeping an eye out for her. She had looked like she could use a dose of zen at the moment.

Almost time for his class, Daniel wakes up and dons some clothes. His wardrobe has improved considerable since comming to college. He was wearing a new pair of jeans, with rips right where his dermal plating came out of his knees. He was also wearing a white shirt and a heavy coat with U-Dub colors. The football team had pulled him out of the gutters, quite litteraly, and now he tried his best to fit in. He didn't want anyone to think he didnt belong, and he didnt want anyone to think him street scum, even if thats what he had been several months ago.

Daniel was lucky though, he had one of the few single dorms on campus, partly because of his large stature, and partly because few people wanted to room with a troll. He took his time, shaving, scrubbing his horns and tusks, and finaly putting gel in his hair. Gathering up his notebook and oversized pens, Daniel begins walking to the lecture halls.

Daniel walks into the cantina, that being the shortest way to class. Normaly he would just walk outside, but today was cold, and the rain has made the ground particularly muddy. The first thing he sees is the crowd gathered looking at the news. More surpisingly he sees Jessica throw one of the other students into a table.

Wondering what was going on, he jogged forward, only to see Jessica run off. Daniel ducks outside to run after Jessica and see what happened. The muddy ground slips under his feet and he sprints forward, setting a pace that few could hope to match.

Catching up to Jessica, he slows down. "Hey, Jess, you okay?" he asks.

The world swam in dizzying circles before his half-lidded eyes and the 'Dark Angel: Earth Dawn' poster that he'd had since his freshman year made google-eyed 'nyah-nyah' faces at him from across the room. He'd never really been a fan of the street rocker turned novastar, but a lot of the chicks on campus still listened to his old ages mixed with street balladic-type music, even though he hadn't put out a new release in, well, since 'Goatee' had been in high school.

As he gathered his wits about him, the satiric Satyr brother of Gamma Alpha Beta (or more commonly known as GAB - Gimme Anudda Brewski) rolled out of bed, his hooves clattering harshly on the cold wooden floor of the fraternity house. Glancing to his left, yep, once again, he was late for class. Which class exactly? Who knows, he wasn't even sure which day it was. It didn't matter, one of the pledges would have taken notes and have them logged onto the Beta's matrix-hub before noon. 'Eees gut to bee dah keeeng.' thought the saytr.

**SLAM** **CRASH**

"Brother McBacchus! Brother McBacchus!" one of the pledges yelled as he raced up the stairs outside the elder brother's room, barely keeping his breath. " ... Classes cancelled .... tragedy ... chaos ..."

The satyr let whoop of joy and leapt into the air in celebration, instantly wishing that he hadn't as his brain erupted in an explosion of angsty hangover. The Pledge burst into the room, still out of breath and speaking in bits.

"My young compadre! Classes being cancelled are most certainly not a tragedy," the saytr proclaimed, striding back and forth across the room while both pondering the mysteries of the universe and exhuming his vast store of brilliant knowledge, like any true sage of mystery and wit, "In fact, Neither is chaos! Chaos, my young man, is the celebration of energy and life ... and thus.." He strode close to the pledge, carrying a coffeepot, two mugs, and half a bottle of baileys, " .. we should celebrate the chaotic closing of classes! Hah!"

"By the way," the satyr asked, "What's that called? Like, consonance or something?" But that was all he managed to get out before the bottle of baileys hit the floor, because he had just heard what the pledge had finally managed to get out.

" ... Prof Navarro ... tragedy ... hit and run ... dead ... Cantina ..."

The bailey's bottle hit the floor.

There stood a girl,
Dead to the world,
And all that she saw was blue...

Within the throng of students who for the most part were trying to absorb the impact of just what would happen now that Professer Navarro was dead stood a fairly tall girl with luminescant white skin the color of a pearl in the sunlight, electric blue hair washing over her back in dreadlocked cascades, books held loosely in one hand.

Dead.

How could this be? Just yesterday she had sat in his class, had talked with him about the possibility of his guest speaking at her next CHANGE (Changelings Helping Aid the Newly Geneticlly Expressed) meeting. He had been pivotal in forging her resolve to continue leading the support organization despite increasing threats from policlubs.

And now... he was dead.

And people were laughing...

`Do you have any idea how much of an asshole you sound like right now!`

She had turning on a single booted heel to face one of the chucklers. The raising of her voice in anger was something few ever saw. It wasn't like Angel, it wasn't with her vibe. The only people she got angry with were bigots, but this, this was too much for her.

`A good man is dead and you're laughing? What kind of fucked are you?`

A shiver runs down her spine, and the changeling girl who'd always done her best to try and be nice to people shoves past the chucklers and justs starts walking. Where to, she's not entirely sure. She needs to think. Needs to absorb the details, maybe commune with Gecko. Books still in hand, she heads out of the nearest door, and just walks.

The chuckling brat is quickly surrounded by some of his chummers. It's no wonder that a MCT rich kid would clash with Navarro or the local metas. Still, the kid has money and contacts, so he can count on having a few big friends at hand. Policlub friends that eagerly took the Saito wannabe freshman under their wings.

"One day you'll regret that, freak." - he's about to deliver the mandatory antimetahuman speech, but the campus' speaker system comes to life and silences him.

"Attention please. As most of you know already, our University suffered a tragic loss today. Professor Paul Navarro was a distinguished member of the faculty, and I'm sure his death is deeply felt by all..."

Quite a few people nod in approval.

"...However, I have to remind you that several tests are due in a little more than a week. A U-Dub delegation will be sent to Professor Navarro's funeral. The rest of you I hope will honor him by giving your best at the tests. I'm sure that he would have liked to see you grow into productive members of society."

Count on a corp-bred Principal to put it that way.

"Volunteers should apply at the faculty's Matrix host. There will also be a moment of silence before today's remaining classes. Thank you for listenting, now carry on with your duties."

After hearing this, most of the crowd slowly begins to disperse, students and professors looking for their classes. It is as if the entire university is trying to leave the news behind and move on.

Jessica turns to Daniel to reply through a tear stained face when the loud speaker cuts her off.

"Volunteers should apply at the faculty's Matrix host. There will also be a moment of silence before today's remaining classes. Thank you for listening, now carry on with your duties."

She nods to the big troll, "that's whats wrong, and then some guy was laughing and I got so mad." For a brief second the anger returns, like a sunrise in the dessert. Her tears dry up and she runs her sleave across her face. "look at me I'm a mess. Thanks for listening Daniel. I'm not sure what we should do, class would be starting now, care to walk me to it?"

"I suppose we should apply to be volunteers." Daniel begins calmly.

The thoughts in his head are not nearly as calm as his voice.

::I've seen so many of my friends die, and now one more. I though only life on the street was this bad. I'm going to find the drekhead who did this. I am going to make him pay::

He looks at the girl and lets out a sad sigh, "Sure, I can walk you to class. I dont suppose you know anyone who could fix us up with two spots at his funeral?"

Back in his dorm room, Acton signs up to visit the funeral. Not knowing what else to do, he heads back to Professor Navarro's classroom. Sitting in one of the desks, he opens his law and ethics textbook and starts reading it, secretly hoping that one of the other students will come in to keep him company.

The words of the bigot boy had stopped Angel in her tracks just a few feet away. She turns on one heel to face the crowd again, and she listens mutely to the announcement, the lack of emotion piercing her soul more than the words. She listens, the entire time her electric blue eyes locked on those of the preppy bigot. She may be dwarfed by the boy and his bullies, but she's not intimidated in the least. As soon as the announcement ends, she speaks again, cutting off any snotty remarks the boy might make.

`Bigger men than you have tried to threaten me before, and I still regret nothing. You're just a smallminded little child trying to play like he's a big man. You can talk all the words you wish, call me a freak. If I am a freak, and you are normal, then I thank the Gods for my freakdom, because normal is a pathetic place to be.`

That said, she turns heel, and heads down the halls, reflexivly heading towards the Law and Ethics class. There, at least, she can find sanctuary to calm her anger, and a computer to volunteer for the delegation.

Brother "Goatee" McBacchus watched over the shoulder of the pledge who was working diligently at the matrix term. In no time at all, he had a spot reserved under his real name on the Professor's funeral attendance roster.

"Damn, omae ... I ... mean Brother. You'll do anything to get out of a class, won't you? But some funeral?"

"Careful 'Squig'," growled the satyr, "I was down with Prof. Navarro ... he and I had some good go arounds. He was a good man, and the sole reason that this house is still around for you to pledge..."

"Apologies Brot.."

"And yes. Of course I'll do anything to get out of class. I gotta make my appearance there, be seen some of the faculty paying my respects, have an excuse to get dressed up ... and besides ... Maybe there'll be some hot underclass piece o' meat there that'll need comforting ... You never know."

The pledge known as 'Squig' grinned toothily, finalizing Brother McBacchus' place at the ceremony. "Ah! I scan, omae, I scan."

Shaking his head out of view, the satyr turned and trotted back up the stairs to his room. Under his breath, he muttered, "You couldn't possibly" as he angrily kicked open his door.

"No," came her reply with a broken voice. She always tried to be so tough. With her life an sport. The decisions she had made, she was only 18, but she had left home, went into a strange country for what she thought was the right reasons. Now the only friend she had was dead. It was new to her, she had never faced death before, faced defeat, but not death. The feeling ripped in her gut and made it churn. The huge shadow of Daniel was next to her, like a comforting statue. She smiled a little at the big troll as they got to the L&E class. "I'm not even sure if we need to be here today." She walked through the opened door and smiled at the troll again for opening it. The class was mostly empty, I guess people are using it as an excuse to skip. Not really wanting to sit by herself Jessie finds a seat near Acton.

Daniel chuckles softly, "Of course I don't need to be here, I'm not even in this class, remember?" Daniel speaks quietly. "But this is the only class Navarro teaches today, and it just feels more important to be here than in 20th Century Lit." Daniel looks through the room, noticing how empty it seems to be for a 300 student lecture hall.

"Hey, I seem to remember there being matrix access at a lot of the desks. At least we can sign up to pay our respects. Navarro deserves a lot more than just our respect."

Walking over to one of the chairs, Daniel sits down behind a large U shaped desk, spanning a third of the chairs in this row. "I dont know how many times I asked them to put in Troll Sized seating." With that his pugs himself into the campus grid and signs Jessica and himself up."

Five.

Only five.

The Matrix display shows that only five students signed in, and no professors did so. It could be that they were all in a hurry for their classes, but... Drek, when that big mobster was geeked a few years ago (O'Meara? O'Hare? O'Malley? Curse that Short Attention Deficit the doctors speak about...), even his Yakuza enemies went to his funeral. So much for professional respect...

"...Despite popular new trends, students are advised to wear formal clothes for the funeral -the CampusAid TM e-voice goes on to detail standard protocol, but its cheerful voice is horribly out of place.

"...The funeral is set for 10:00 AM PST, at the Ravenna Necroplex. Have a nice day!"

Sometimes you wish the campus' wannabe deckers could crash the system more often.

Acton sees Jessica and Daniel sign up for the funeral group. "Hey, I'm going to the funeral too. You guys need a ride?"

`Only five people bothered to sign up?`

Angel was livid, saddened, and conflicted. The ever happy girl was down and out. The only person who cared really enough to pull her out of these moods was dead now. She picked out about the most formal thing she owned for the funeral. All black, oddly enough it was a funeral dress. Ok, so it was goth clubwear and had a faint shimmer to it, but it was formal nonetheless. To it she added long black gloves, but she decided to pass on the veil. She may be in mourning, but she wasn't a widow or something. Plus it'd be too much like hiding who she was.

She doesn't know who else is going to the funeral, so she takes a cab. The driver doesn't look at her through the whole ride, doesn't even talk to her other than to ask the adress, and give her the amount due. She doesn't know whether it's her attire, or her obvious non-human looks. She's too torn to care.

Stepping out onto the steps of the Necroplex, she looks about, and waits for a sign of where to go.

Daniel truns towards Acton, "Sure, with the funeral at ten, we don't have a lot of time to get there, so we best hurry."

He smiles, "Think Jeans count as formal wear?"

The morning is grey and depressing, a soft rain tag-teaming with a cold, chilling wind. You are standing outside the Ravenna Necroplex, a huge concrete shoebox that makes death look pretty by comparison. Maybe that was the architect's intention

Going inside the building, you see a flatvid screen showing today's funerals. Professor Navarros' about to begin and it won't take long: the Necroplex cremated him yesterday night. One of you has some minor difficulties carrying the flowers sent by the University.

The funeral room is sober, with a certain touch of elegance. Obviously, this place has seen better times... heck, who hasn't lately? Other than the U-Dub's delegation and the Necroplex workers, there are five people present.

A twenty-something blonde is staring at Navarro's portrait, barely containing some tears in her eyes. She could be a relative, but the Professor had no known family you can remember of.

A huge, silent man is standing grimly behind her, wearing a longcoat that's probably older than some of you, but not as old as him. There's a small fat guy sitting in a chair close to them, a suitcase at his side.

The last two are a bit more odd. There's an aging Cathiolic priest, Bible in hand. He's trading some looks with another old timer, except this one's wearing a weird toga and lots of feathers and charms. He looks straight out of an Aztlaner documentary.

Acton clears out the back of his GMC Bulldog stepvan to make room for Daniel and Jessica. Wrapping his drones in plastic garbage bags so they won't be recognized, he stows them in his dorm room closet.

The GMC bulldog rolls around at 9:45 sharp. Parking his vehicle on the street across from the necroplex, Acton makes sure that his electronic car key is set to alert him if the Bulldog's alarm system goes off. After his passengers have disembarked, Acton locks the car and leads the to funeral.

"Uh, Hi." Daniel starts, speaking to the group of people at Navarro's funeral.

"I'm Daniel, a friend of Navarro, apparently the school didnt care much for him, judging by the turnout, but since you were friends of his, Im very pleased to meet you."

Daniel figets nervously, not sure what to do.

"Oh, hi... I'm Vicky Rivers, I work as a freelance journalist. Navarro was my professor years ago, he helped me start in the Washington Bird... he was always interested, even volunteered to... -her voice wanders off for a moment- God, now they've killed him and no one cares" -at this points she breaks down, visibly shaken. Tears run down her red suit.

0900 the morning of the funeral...


Jessica sat empty handed on her bed, her long black hair swirled around her shoulders starkly contrasting her fair skin. Two outfits lay on the bed next to her. She had never been good at deciding what to wear, She normally just grabbed the first thing in the closet. But now, now it mattered. Her first choice was a black, knee length dress that buttoned up in the back, simple and elegant. She had never worn it before, somehow it didn't seem her, even when she bought it. Her other option was more her. Something she felt the professor would have appreciated. Shiny black boots, black dress slacks, and a white cotton button up shirt. She chose the latter. She finished it off with her black armored trenchcoat. She grabbed her Oaklies on the way out the door and crowded into the back of Acton's van.

She had never been to a funeral before but somehow she felt this one was missing something, it seemed more like a wake then an actual funeral.

...God, now they've killed him and no one cares...

The words hang in the air. She walks over to the blond girl and sits down beside her, resting an arm on her shoulder. "Hi," she says in her light soprano. "I'm Jessica, I was a," she struggles for the right word, "admirer of the Professors. You said 'they killed him'. Who are you talking about?"

Acton's brain heated up a fraction of a degree as he tried to asses the five strangers in the room and their likely relation to the late professor. The woman was most likely a close confidante, possibly a girlfriend. The grim-looking man looked like he was accustomed to sad news. A fellow metahuman rights activist, or possibly a relative. The fat man looked out of place, and was most likely the lawyer charged with divying up Navarro's estate. The Catholic priest seemed obvious enough, but the Azzie priest was a total cypher.

Acton revised his guess about the woman as she identified herself and a former student. She was still probably a romantic interest of his, either past or present. As for the priest, perhaps he was an enemy paying his respects to the professor?

Acton looked around expectantly, hoping that Angel and McBachus would show up.

The Satyr entered slowly, looking dapper yet reserved in a street-chic black suit with the faintest hint of metallic silver pinstripes. It was tailored specifically to his odd physique, designed to downplay but not conceal the odd angle of his lower body. He stepped carefully and attempted to stay on carpeting when it was at all possible, mindful of the effect that his hooves on bare flooring would have when mixed with the odd accoustics of the room. He stood momentarily and bowed his head, offering a few seconds of peace.

He lifted his head at the gentle touch of a hand on his shoulder, offering the woman who had entered with him a soft smile at her reassurance. She was dressed respectfully as well, in a black blouse and shin-length skirt. With hat and black glasses, her blond hair bobbed in a retro mid-twentieth century fashion, she presented an odd mix of Jackie O. Kennedy and current day Sim Starlet. Despite her reserved dress, those of you who knew the eldest brother of the GAB house could easily picture him yelling 'Hello Nurse!' as she walked in the room.

Offering his arm to the woman, the both of them made their way up to the photo, an odd but dapper pair, despite the fact that she was nearly 1/3 of a meter taller. 'McBacchus', eyes on target, walked past those assembled and stood within view of Professor Navarro's photo and stood with his hands in his pockets. The woman at his side had one arm around his broad shoulders and used her other hand to gently dab at her eyes with a silk kerchief.

"Miss Rivers, please calm down. We're all hurt by his death, but I'm sure he wouldn't like to see you in such a sorry state". The big man guides her to a chair, before turning back to face you.

"Mr. Jameson here is handling Professor Navarro's estate. He told me a few moments ago he's looking to speak with some people named in Navarro's Will."

"Father Finnigan is a longtime friend of Navarro, came to give a prayer for him -he glances at the other priest- and the other guy works for Aztechnology, I think."

The man looks at you again, and shakes your hand.

"By the by, the name's Michael Stirling, I'm a Lone Star detective, also a former U-Dubber like Miss Rivers. I had to give Law 101 three times before Navarro was satisfied... but he teached me what crime was, and that it should be punished..." -he frowns when looking at the professor's portrait.

"They say it was an accident. I don't know, I'm not sure. But I'm work in the Vice Squad, not Homicides. I haven't been able to investigate the case."

The woman on McBacchus' arm looks over to where Miss Rivers is seated, then turns her baby blues back to the Satyr. "Hank, hon, I'm going to go talk to her, 'kay?"

"Null sheen, Shiela ... I should prolly say my 'Hi's' to the others," Hank Petrochic replied, giving the attractive blond's hand a squeeze. While he stepped back and away from the photo, Shiela took a seat next to Miss Rivers and started talking quietly with her.

Glancing over the guests that were closer to Professor Navarro's age, he turned and walked towards the small group of students that was forming. As confidant as ever, the 5' tall satyr walked up to the group of much (and in one case, much much) taller people. "Greets, folks. Good to see some of y'all got some decent respect for the Prof. Most of those poseur bastards on campus don't have the faintest clue of what's up .. and what a real guy the Prof was ..."

His voice drifted off for a moment as he looked back towards the photo. With a shrug, he jammed his hands into his pockets and turned back to the group. " ... Well ... Without Uncle Navvy to look over my shoulder and keep me on the straight and narrow, looks like I'll have to graduate and move on, this year. Drek." He glanced around at the looks on the other's faces, then shook his head again. "Joke, kids. Alles clar."

Daniel shakes the hand of Stirling and walks up to each other person thier, except the lawyer, smiling slightly and saying, "Nice ot meet you, just wish it was on better circumstances." and small things to that effect.

Looking at the big man, Daniel speaks up, "Why can't you open an investigation? I know if I got the chance I'd like to give something back to the dreckheads that did this."

"Oh, Vice Squad, not Homicide.. " Daniel answers his own question. "Uh, If I can help out in any way, I'd like too, Navarro desirves a lot better than this for all that he did for me."

"Yes," Acton agreed enthusiasticly, "Let's do some investigation. There's no justice like vigilante justice."

Hank Petrochic glanced back to where Shiela sat with Miss Rivers, she seemed to be getting along with the distraught woman quite well and would hopefully have her trust before too long. The sexy 1950's housewife look always got McBacchus' blood stirring, and the DocWagon medic had always had a particularly effective bedside manner that could comfort even the most miserable person. Very good, Mon Cherie, he thought, Perhaps we might be able to figure out what's really going on here.

"Well, for starters, Professor Navarro was helping Miss Rivers with some kind of investigation, maybe she can explain it to you if you can calm her down. She says he called her about some new developments, and arranged a meeting. He was dead by next day: killed almost instantly while walking out of his house, a red sports car hit him."

I've heard at the station that the case was closed pretty much the same day it was opened. No investigation, no inquiries. Nothing beyond questioning bystanders and neighbours. Inspector Breitner was handling the case, he said it was an accident. According to him, there were no witnesses, no car description, no vehicle tag, nada.

Oh, Mr.Daniel? I think you're one of the people the lawyer was looking for..."

"Really?" Daniel looks surprised, "why would they close an invesitigation so fast, its not like Navarro lived in the barrens or anything."

Why would the Lawyer want me? Daniel thinks as he turns to the Lawyer. "Um.. I'm Daniel."

Hank nods, keeping a steady but comfortable eye contact with Detective Sterling as he relates the story. "Well, Detective, The Prof was an upstanding guy. Forgive me for playing Devil's Advocate, here, but couldn't this just be coincedence? It makes us feel better if there's some reason or rhyme .. but Murder?

"You're obviously a very knowledgable man, Detective, well connected in the force .. I mean seriously, there a chance someone else down there might've said something to lead you to think that way? What else did Inspector ... Breitner, is it? What else did he have to say?"

Detective Stirling listens to the journalist, then looks back at Hank.

"Yes, Breitner it is... You heard Miss Rivers, now you know why it smells so fishy. Besides, when I asked the Inspector about the case, he told me to piss off. I'm not very proud of saying this, but... when an investigation is closed so fragging fast, it's because someone wants it so."

"So," Acton reasoned, "We could be looking at either polluters or smugglers. Maybe he left us some more information in his will. What about you," he said, indicating Stirling, Rivers, and the two clergymen. "Are you coming to his will-reading too?"

Angel had been hanging in the background while the others talked, vaguely catching bits of the conversations.

vigilante justice... detective... barrels...

`Smugglers wouldn't be dumping their cargo unless they were worried about the port authority...`

She trails off a moment, not even sure when she'd gravitated to the group. She brushes aside a stray strand of electric blue hair, and looks nervous a moment. She definitly isn't being her usual self.

`More than likely they were dumping waste.`

Someone out there killed the Professor over toxic waste; it was despicable.

"You're right; if they can bribe the homicide squad, they can bribe the harbor patrol. So it's got to be waste, unless it's something so terrible that Lone Star couldn't be convinced to look the other way. Hope none of you are scuba divers."

Hank nods thoughtfully, glancing between Detective Stirling and Miss Rivers. As Acton began formulating his hypothesis on 'What was REALLY" going on, the Satyr shifted to his other leg uncomfortably. It was reassuring that there were people with enough drive and motivation to get involved in the wrongs of the world. But IF there was some sort of conspiracy going on here, as rediculous as that idea sounded, some of the kids were being far to ... Vocal .. for their own good.

Wondering how Shiela was faring, Hank stepped back from the group, his hoof striking the bare floor and echoing like a much more dense stiletto heel. Turning quickly, mind racing on the possibilities of what could actually be going on, he nearly walked straight into Angel.

Blinking twice, the satyr flashed the award winning smile that had so often kept him out of trouble and in the good graces of the 'elite' crowd on campus: Professors, Deans, The President of the school, his Wife ...

"Well .. Hello!" he smiled up at her, his attention drawn up to the woman's eyes. Hank had always found eye contact to be one of the most important facets of communication, but something about hers .. seemed entrapping. Blinking again, he looked right and left uncomfortably, not used to being on the defensive during social interaction. "Uhm, Excuse me," he says, another smile slipping out as he steps to the side and walks over towards Shiela and Miss Rivers.

"Do you think we could take a look at the pictures sometime? Perhaps it could help..." Jessica says to the sad girl. She hugs the girl's shoulder and stands up to move away when the Satyr walks up. She brushes past him without looking and moves over to the small crowd around the detective. "We should get going soon, we all have class today and we will need to make sure we get done before the will reading."

Daniel nods his head when Jessica speaks. "Yeah... class, I almost forgot
about those. I dont suppose we can arrange some time to talk later tonight?"

"Let's meet in the cafeteria an hour before the will reading. We can talk then, and once again I can give you guys a ride if you need it."

As you speak, Father Finnigan opens his Bible and begins the farewell rite. It's a simple, comforting ceremony.

"...and as the Holy Scriptures say: Let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action. Paul Navarro loved us all, for he always gave a helping hand. May he now rest in peace. Amen."

Following him is Jiménez. He too, is brief and simple, although his speech seems to be in Spanish.



After he's finished, the Necroplex's workers put the professor's urn in his niche, sealing it with a granite slab. Both priests thank you for coming.

Vicki wipes off some tears from her face, then turns back to Jessica. "Yes, I guess I can send them to you. Let me return to my office, I'll see that you get them within the hour. Thank you for your interest."

"Thanks, I liked the prof, I would like to see justice done." Jessica turns to Acton and Danny, "we should get going guys..."

"Ok, I should be going too, -Detective Stirling salutes you- give me a call if you need something, I'll see what I can do."

"Oh, and please don't do anything your parents wouldn't be proud of."

Too late for that, Acton thought. I already deal drugs and consort with "rabble rousers" like Navarro. A little violent crime couldn't make it any worse, right?

Turning to the others, Acton says "Okay, back to school. Angel, I've got room in my car for one more, do you need a ride back?"

Hank 'McBacchus' slides into the empty spot next to Shiela as Miss Rivers moves to leave. He sits quietly, while the others gather and begin to conspire where he was standing only a minute ago, and stares at Professor Navarro's "well-earned" niche. Clueless as to what the others are speaking about, he slips an arm around Shiela's shoulders and mumbles something in an ancient language - a prayer or something - for the Professor.

Daniel nodds at Acton and follows him out.

The trip back to the U-Dub is a bit of a downer. The acid rain has mostly emptied the streets, filled now with vehicles. Despite the air conditioner's best efforts, some of the streets' smog filters in.

A message awaits in Jessica's telecom. Vicki Rivers has sent you a dozen pictures from the ship.

It's a small orange cargo ship, with the Tsimshian flag pretty visible. There's something written in rear. You can't see it perfectly, but it seems to be <unidentifiable> Flyer. The ship's crew is busy with some barrels. One of them is falling in a picture, quickly sinking in the water in the next one.