The early evening was cool, but not cold as everyone gathered. Iain was in his usual attire, dark pants, and long black leather coat. Alex was wearing a pair of dark trousers with a short jacket that fit her figure in a flattering fashion. Her white ruffled shirt contrasted nicely with the deep V of the black jacket that buttoned at the waist. Raven was in her black leather skirt with a charcoal blouse and stood beside Dren who fidgeted slightly in the navy pinstriped suit he was wearing. Johnny, although he was dashing in his vested tux, looked as if he was carrying a heavy heart. Iona stood beside Johnny. Her long black caftan dress of silk fluttered in the light breeze. Her face wet with tears.

One by one, each of the group bent over and gathered a handful of dirt from the earth. With a resignation of finality, the earth was tossed before then into the pit they all encircled. Finally they each stepped back, wordlessly they retreated from the pit’s edge and from view. Their somber countenances were replaced by a dozen spectral faces. Their faces were almost joyful as the scraping and clanking sounds shovels unseen began to drop their loads of earth into the hole. Then all went dark as a huge load of dirt choked away the limited view from within the pit.

---

Pieran awoke in his bedroom.  It has been a week since their encounter with Erinyes. He had been doing better at first. After a full days rest, he was moving about a eating well. But two days later, his recovery stagnated. Now Pieran was in pain most of the time when he was not feverish. Maybe today would be better.

Everyone else was recovering from their scrapes and bruises nicely. And Iain had finally cut his showers down to only twice a day.

In the science lab, Iona’s monitor flashed as it changed screens. The image of Dr. Frankenstein popped on the screen. He poured a blue fluid from a test tube into a bubbling beaker. A plume of smoke exploded as the liquids mixed.

“Eureka! Iona has an email!” the Dr. cackled as the smoke coalesced into an envelope and the image suddenly reduced to the size of a standard tool bar at the top of the screen. The beaker repeatedly recreating the letter in the smoke and was labeled: Iona:  01 New Mail
This message was last updated by the GM at 05:53, Fri 11 Feb 2005.

Iain reopened his eyes: he was looking at a pencil drawing of Ninti, sitting in the Cave of Regret, with Orean's cage on the ground near her, and he was trying to remember the old woman more precisely: even with his exceptional memory, the smaller details did tend to get blurry after a while, and he still wasn't completely satisfied with the result of his efforts.

On the left of that drawing there was another one, inked and colored, showing a flying Orean in her humanoid form. On the right, a pencil sketch of Erynies above the lake - he still hadn't decided whether to draw her on fire or not.

Stacked not far from those there were several others: some barely drafted, others very detailed, each one representing a key moment of the events that had recently involved their little group, from their meeting on the seven-pointed star, to the encounter with Gardiano, and so on and so forth.

Strangely, there were none about Iain getting snotted by the Fyarl... Go figure.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:36, Fri 11 Feb 2005.

   At dinner, Johnny read. He didn't just eat in complete silence, slowly working his way through Encyclopedia Medica II - Organs, he had actually brought a sheetbook and noted and calculated at the table.

   Occasionally, he would look up from his books and engage briefly in the conversation, as if he had been listening all along, chatting pleasantly before he returned his attention to his books.

   At nights, the only sounds from the kitchen would be those of water boiling, a mug returning to the table and a page being turned. "Wishing somebody would get hurt, just so you had something to do, that's what this line of work does to you," Johnny commented, before returning to the world Encyclopedia Medica IV - The Human Brain. Yeah, the med student is in charge of your health and well-being.

   By the end of the week, Johnny seized the attention of the others: "Ladies, gentlemen, Mr. Telarwin..." he said, "since I am currently in charge of you not bleeding to death, I'd like to - politely, I might add - where was I?"
   Johnny stared into thin air for a moment, before he resumed: "I'd like to request those of you who fancy not dying due to an allergic reaction to B positive blood, please submit your medical data to Dr. Hyde...Hyde was the evil one, right? In our modern digitalized age, he even accepts submission through this interesting new invention that's called -" he paused to show them all his PDA - "a computer. Look, it has tiny, tiny lights."

   Pausing to catch his breath, he finished his speech: "If you do not know what's supposed to be included in such a sheet, please refer to the box labeled Medical Sheet near the exit of, yes you guessed it, the Medical Bay, which is where you can also pick up your weekly allotment of free condoms. If you do not have the information to be fitted in the sheet, the 'Bay has the equipment to determine such data - however, I must admit, I prefer not doing it while attempting to arrange your intestines back into your stomach. As for you, Iain - please include details."

During her time of recovery, Iona taken to hiking all over the estate's grounds. It's true, she wasn't usually the woodsy type. But no, she hadn't been hiding in the mansion - not from anyone, especially not Pieran. Of course not. She was training her injured leg, that's what she was doing.

On one of her walks, she'd come across a meditation labyrinth, and that's where she spent most of her forays in the Great Outdoors: pacing the labyrinth, thinking. Or rather, avoiding certain thoughts. She really hated losing control of her emotions, especially considering the outcome that usually brought. And while she still tried to find a physical key to controlling her power, she had now also started to meditate, trying to find a mental key to her mind. And once she found it, she fully inteded to turn the key and lock the door forever. And bolt it, for good measure.

At the moment, however, Iona was in her beloved Science Lab, dividing her time between the on-going study of her own blood work, and the new puzzle: why wasn't Pieran getting any better? She'd received all the data and samples necessary from Johnny, and she was now running all kinds of tests to try to develop some kind of antidote to whatever poison it was that had coated the dagger Erinyes had used to carve up Pieran.

From the speakers she could hear the guitar strums and opening lyrics of a song:


Today is gonna be the day
That they're gonna throw it back to you
By now you should've somehow
Realized what you gotta do
I don't believe that anybody
Feels the way I do about you now

Backbeat the word was on the street
That the fire in your heart is out
I'm sure you've heard it all before
But you never really had a doubt
I don't believe that anybody feels
The way I do about you now

And all the roads we have to walk along are winding
And all the lights that lead us there are blinding
There are many things that I would
Like to say to you
I don't know how
                              _{Oasis, "Wonderwall"}


Iona wondered if today really was going to be the day. She'd been struggling with the question ever since the night they'd defeated spiteful spirit. She could remember Johnny, standing outside of Raven's door, looking straight at her, questioning.



Iona had frozen in her tracks, hand on the doorknob. Fortunately, she'd had her back to Johnny and Raven, so they hadn't seen her face, only her carefully schooled voice as she replied something, anything to deflect the attention from herself.

But now Johnny had presented a very reasonable request: if he was going to act as the primary care-giver of this little enterprise, then he needed the medical history of his potential clients. What was she supposed to write on that sheet?

   Name: Iona McLean
   Gender: half female, half Ciloth
   Blood type: C+
   Rhesus type: not applicable - gene not present
   Blood pressure: waaaay too high, working on it
   Previous serious ailments: occasionally set fire to things and people
   Special conditions/allergies: none... oh yeah, hang on, what about this BLUE gem on my forehead?!

Maybe not.

Sure, she should fess up, tell the gang who and what she really was. After all, Iain already knew. And everyone accepted him, right? Well, maybe not Dren, but at least he wasn't trying to stake Iain in his sleep.

Still, something kept Iona from confiding in Johnny. She couldn't explain it. It was just his smile at times. It was too tooth-pasty...

Iona sighed, irritated with herself. She wasn't being rational at all. The logical thing to do, if she wanted to kow if she could trust Johnny, would be to read him. She didn't like doing it; delving into somebody's mind was a very intimate act, not like simply sending to somebody. She wasn't sure she wanted to know that much about Johnny. Although, after that she-vamp in the Solerite world, Iona didn't think anything could turn her stomach now.

She would have to have a talk with Joh--

Iona jumped at the sudden cackle from the computer. Turning around to face to face the screen, she clicked on the mail icon, typed her password and read the message. Her eyes widened a bit as she read, a shadow of fear flickering in her gaze. However, she squashed the emotion down as soon as it appeared. Then she cast a glance at the clock on the wall of the Science Lab. She sighed, but nodded slightly and returned to the microscope. She still had some time left.

“Please fill out…” Pieran stared at the one-eyed beast atop his desk through his own pair of blood-shot eyes. While he supported Johnny’s work, and was grateful for all the work the young resident was doing, he had hard enough time sending e-mail on those “infernal” contraptions, let alone filling forms on them.

He sighed. The stethoscope was invented in 1816, he remembered, by a doctor too modest to press his ear to a woman’s chest. Pieran shook his head. “The man didn’t know what he was missing,” he mused. But while he appreciated Dr. Laennec’s respect for his patients, and also the revolution his paper invention brought to medicine, it also marked the first time doctors began distancing themselves from their patients. "And now we answer medical questionnaires on a computer.” Thus turns the wheel.

But no matter; Pieran wasn’t up for a lot of conversation. His wound was giving him serious grief and he needed solitude to concentrate. Something was wrong, bothersome questions were not welcome, and the computer was patient, if heartless.

His fingers stumbled clumsily over the keys, finalizing on the ENTER key.

“Some fields were left blank. Carefully re-read and reply to all  questions.”

“What?! Oh, for the love of…” He looked again. Ah, there. He’d glossed over Age. Right. He was thirty. But he never believed his age.

‘Tic-tac, tic-tac, tic-tac-tack. ENTER.’

“Done. Good night.”
This message was last edited by the player at 21:12, Sat 12 Feb 2005.

Iona turned away from the computer screen where she'd just been passing a few e-mails back and forth with Mr. Hornsby. Odious little man, she thought, as she unhurriedly but efficiently put away her things in the cabinets. Then she made her rounds around the mansion. It was 9:50 am and Hornsby had called the team to a meeting in the Conference Room at 10 am sharp.

The only mind reader indeed, Iona huffed to herself, looking for her house-mates. Hornsby seemed to think she regularly invaded the minds of the people around her. Like she was some sort of Peeping Tom! Iona sniffed indignantly. She only did it when it was absolutely necessary, and even then it didn't always work the way she wished it to. Seeing the innermost thoughts of a person could be a very disturbing experience under the best of circumstances.

Of course, Hornsby probably didn't mean actual mind-reading, but the less intrusive sending she sometimes did to communicate when there was need for discretion. Still, Hornsby seemed to think he could use her as some sort of internal speaker system -- Iona stopped in her tracks. Aw, shoot. He was partially right. She couldn't send to 6 people at once, but it would be more efficient to telepathically send to anybody who wasn't in the house. Figures...

In this mind-set, Iona steamed though the big house, informing everybody she could find of what was going on. Then she entered the Conference Room with 3 minutes to spare. She had her notepad and her PDA, ready to take notes if necessary.

Johnny strolled casually into the Conference Room a few minutes to 10AM, clean shaved and dressed in a teal shirt. He had been in his room as Iona knocked, leather pants hastily buckled.

   "Hi there...I thought I was a bit late?" he asked, seeing her in the room, indicating the mostly deserted room with a smile as he seated himself at her left.

   "So, anybody died? Ancient demonic entity surfaced from the depths of hell? Oh, please take your time answering my questionaire, unless you're planning to excercise extreme sports, there is no hurry." His unnerving smile never left the face, not even as he offered her some of the buiscuits he had brought.

Iain, dressed in his usual dark-and-darker attire, entered the conference room and greeted the others: "Hey Iona, Doctor Bee... So, where's Higgins? Am I early?"

Then he saw what Johnny was carrying: "Is that... Cookies?"

   "I'm more akin to calling them buiscuits, I must admit..." After having allowed Iona to serve herself, he extended the carton reading Chocolate Chip Cookies towards Iain. "Thanks for your timely medical report, by the way, I'm going to offer it some in-depth examination later tonight, unless the sleazy bastard bears bad news - they say don't shoot the mess..."

   Johnny cut himself short, his eyes still directed at Iain. "Hey, what're you wanting buiscuits for?"

"No no, you're on time," Iona replied as Johnny stepped into the room.





"Hey Iain. Got about 2 minutes to spare." She helped herself to some chocolaty goodness. "Fanks," she told Johnny, a mouthful of cookies not really doing much for her enunciation. She finished her cookie before resuming the previous thread of conversation.

"About that medical form... There are some details I'd like to discuss with you. Maybe we can hook up after this meeting?"

   "Details?" Johnny eyed her quizzically, before he remembered his manners. "Of course...how about not getting out of these overly comfortable chairs for a while?"

Pieran hobbled down to attend the meeting but no sooner had he arrived than he was stricken with weakness and trembling pains. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I think I will have to dismiss myself from this meeting. If you’ll excuse me. Give my regards to Bosley. Please don’t get up; I can make my way back. I’ll be in my room.”

Before he left he dropped a sealed envelope in front of Iona.

"Really, i'll be fine," he said to the room in general. "I just need to bow out of this meeting today. Have a good time."

Pieran nodded and made exit.

Raven devoted a couple of days to pouring over the materials in the library searching for anything that might shed some light on Pieran’s situation. She had little success and felt she had reached a brick wall as far as what she was going to find in Cornerstone’s collection. She did find references to a particular tome that apparently Cornerstone didn’t have. She began making some inquiries with antique booksellers and occult collectors. Most believed there were no copies left in existence, assuming that the book was ever real in the first place. There were a few that believed the book was just a myth, but a couple of them said they’d do some checking for her and see what they could turn up.

She spent the rest of the week examining objects in and around the mansion, hoping that Cornerstone would give up some of its secrets. She catalogued the notes of her findings in a journal that she planned to share with Iona later on.

Dren however was the total opposite. His time was filled with beating on BOB and climbing the walls... literally. When Iona would see him on her usual walks she would often find him simply hanging on one of the highest points of the wall, unmoving, unwavering, like a spider waiting for a kill. It wasn't until the latter part of the week that he grew exited to receive some packages that turned out to be hand to hand weapons and assorted equipment that one would think were meant for a Police SWAT Team and not a Billionaire's mansion. Especially when he received a set of Kevlar armor. But still not having found any listing for Highlander: The Source in theaters he finally talked Raven into a movie that was less... character driven.

Raven entered the conference room, tall thermal coffee mug in hand. “And what was with those Zombies?” she asked Dren as he walked in with her. “It was like the film makers couldn’t make up their minds. Sometimes they moved slow, other times they would spaz quickly down the road. The people behind that movie obviously don’t know a lot about real zombies. I’m still trying to figure out what the incubation period for that virus was supposed to be. Some people went the entire movie after they were exposed and they never got infected. Others became zombies two minutes after they were bitten. Iona will tell you, that’s just bad science.”

Dren shrugged drinking a bottled water, anyone who double checked confirmed it looked like a bottle of Evian water, "I dinna notice any bad science, but I did see Leelee Sobieski running around in leather pants kickin' ass." he smiled "I mean lets b'onest, Resident Evil 2 is th'sequal t'a movie based on a video game starring the blond from Joan of Arc, after all that d'ya really expect there t'be a plot?"

Raven took a seat at the table. “Just keep that in mind because I get to pick the next movie we see. I don’t want to hear any complaints when all it has going for it is watching sinewy men sweat.” Turning to those who had already arrived she nodded and said, “Morning.”

"It aint gonna be like that time y'dragged me t'that performace of Love, Valour, Compassion is it!?" absentmindedly pulling one chair from the table, Dren then pulled another for himself as he sat down still trying to figure out why he keeps coming to these meetings.

“Hey, I gave you a choice between a German film or that play. As soon as you found out that the movie was sub-titled and the play contained nudity – you wanted the play.” Raven shrugged at Dren, “You didn’t ask if there were any women in the play.”
This message was last edited by the player at 10:38, Mon 14 Feb 2005.

Alex spent a considerable portion of the week outside the house; learning to drive during the day and sampling the nightlife in the evening.  Sometimes she asked if anyone wanted to come along, other nights she just put her gladrags on and hit the town.  When she was at home, she was usually taking the time to do some excercise or occasionally doing some research in the library.

On a couple of occasions she pays Pieran a visit, once she discovered he was not averse to a chat over a cup of tea.  The next time she dropped in Alex brought Pieran a selection traditional blends and fruit teas for him to enjoy, as well as checking if he would like her to pick anything up from the town next time she was there.

Toward the end of the week she filled out Johnny's form, though she had no idea what her weight, blood type or blood pressure were.  Well, if Johnny wanted that information desperately he could always do the tests at some point.

At close to twenty-past ten, Alex wandered into the conference room, dressed in a casual t-shirt and jeans.  Taking a seat, she settled in and then looked at Iona.  "Iona...  I know the telepathy is spiffy and all, but could you just use my mobile phone in future?  I nearly ploughed off the road when I heard your voice in my head."

Dren froze the moment Alex mentioned the possible wreck, "Oh my God!?" leaning toward Alex his tone dropped even more gravely as he asked "Were y'in th'Mustang?"

Hornsby entered the conference room using the door from the Computer Lab. He was dressed in a navy blue business suit with a golden colored tie. The gentleman had a stern look on his face as he made his way toward the fireplace.

“Good Morning everyone, I thank the majority of you for being prompt.” Hornsby gave a pointed look at Alex, his British accent was crisp and businesslike. “Really Ms. Taylor, I expect as much from the Americans, but our people have much higher standards than that. Fortunately for you, tardiness is not in short supply these days.” He turned and called to the door behind him. “If you’re quite ready now, Smithers, please do come in.”

A second man followed Hornsby in. Smithers was dressed in a rumpled old brown suit with a rather thin black tie. He wore thick glasses and what was left of his thinning hair was going dishwater gray. He was juggling a folder, a bulky calculator, a small thin briefcase and a small file box of what appeared to be receipts and invoices.

Smithers moved to the head of the conference table and tried to set down his items. The calculator started to slip, and as Smithers tried to counter the weight shift, he tipped the whole load too far in the other direction. The little file box hit the table with a thump dumping its contents, the folder spilled out its ledger sheets, the briefcase hit the floor with a bang, and the calculator ended upside down on the table. The roll of paper popped off the calculator and proceeded to roll across the length of the table. Smithers reached for it and succeeded to grasp the trailing paper. He pulled it toward him in an attempt to bring the roll within reach, but it only caused the paper to unroll faster as it bounced and spun off the far end of the conference table leaving a long white strip to mark its path.

“Oh, dearie me. What a waste” Smithers said, looking at the paper trail he had created. He started to pack the little papers back into the small file box.

Hornsby rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Dren sipped his water with a somewhat amused look on his face before leaning over to roll the paper tape back across the table. It would be the only aid Smither's would get from the Irishman who was leaning back enjoying what was surely the highlight of the whole meeting.

Alex looked at Dren and grinned, about to respond when Hornsby walked in.  Her expression was that of someone halfway between amused and mightily pissed off when he reprimanded her and while Smithers bumbled his way to the head of the table she turned to look at him, eyebrow arched.

"Really Mr Hornsby, and there I was thinking our people had a reputation for manners.  Isn't it polite to give adequate notice of a meeting?  If had been informed that we were to meet this morning a little earlier, I wouldn't have gone out.  As it is, I was told a couple of minutes to ten when I was twenty miles away.  I think you should be grateful I got here as quickly as I did."

   "How about you resume that discussion somewhere I am not present?" Johnny suggested, glancing mostly in Hornsby's direction. "I am sure Mr..." Johnny paused briefly. "...Smithers...will fill us in on what is most certainly urgent matters."

   Adressing the latter mentioned, he added: "You might find the plastic bag to be a helpful innovation - need some help with that awfully shifty calculator of yours? Some day, I might introduce you to my friend and soulmate, Megadeth." The man indicated his PDA, which was actually smaller than the arithmetical device, by far.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:04, Mon 14 Feb 2005.

Dren looked Johnny over as if questioning his sanity "Th'man's got telescopes over each eye an' yer offeren 'im a mini computer with a tiny screen an' even smaller buttons." after a sarcastic nod and a thumbs up Dren rolls his eyes and returns to his water.

Hornsby drew a deep breath. He looked at Alex as if he would respond, then at Johnny. Deciding that now was not really the time to discuss manners, Hornsby moved forward with the meeting. In low tones, he muttered “Oh, do pull yourself together Smithers”

Addressing the group, Hornsby said, “Right! This is Mr. Smithers, from Accounting. He has some business details that were brought to my attention. Mr. Smithers…” Hornsby glared at Smithers as he gathered up the last of the scattered papers. “The floor is yours. Do keep it clean. We are all professionals here.”

---

Smithers finished stacking the papers and turned the calculator right side up. He looked at the paper tape as Dren rolled it back toward him. Bending over, he opened the briefcase and withdrew a fresh roll of register tape for the machine. He muttered under his breath as he threaded the paper. Once done, he turned it on and drew a sharp breath.

“Right, all is well now. Where to begin? As Hornsby stated, I am from Accounting. I know there are always some cost overruns with the startup of a new venture but…” His voice was nasal and high-pitched. He sounded very much like a person on the verge of a conniption fit.

Smithers started to tap away on the calculator as he spoke. He would occasionally rummage through the box of receipts and point to lines on the ledger papers in the folder.

“Lets begin with the damage to the Chevy Uplander, fender, grill, radiator, and hood replacement. Cleaning of the interior. We had to completely replace one of the seats in back, total loss. And this is the least of the expenses.” Smither’s fingers tapped on the keys as the spoke.

“There are the three long leather coats, a popular item to be sure, but three for the same person?

A silver ingot? What on earth for? One does not actually buy them if they wish to trade commodities.

Oh, and this – over $1200.00 in clothes in one day… for just one of you! Really, do you not plan on washing them? Just wear a new outfit every day?

Let’s not forget shall we? We have enough clove cigarettes to open your own smoke shop.

He continued on barely stopping for a breath. With each item, his face became redder and his voice higher pitched.  His finger flew over the keypad. The register tape scrolled out at a rapid pace.

“A cleaning bill to remove blood from the carpet. A plumbing bill to remove God Knows What from the shower drains!

A second order of pain medication this week, ten sterile suture kits, a case of bandages, assorted sizes.

A cell phone for everyone is reasonable. But three cell phones were purchased for just one person? You do realize they can be used more then once?

Hydrofloraltecknocarbon, zinc chromatic…Methyl-ethyl death chemicals. What are you doing? Building a bomb?

Fourteen handguns??? Glad I intercepted that one! All but two have been cancelled. Planning a small war? Most men can only shoot two guns at the same time, Fourteen?

And then there is the City restitution to the fire department for the two fires caused by Cornerstone Inc. Vehicle replacement to a Mr. Jamal Williams, source of one of the fires.
Restitution to City Parks department for loss of a tree.

And finally, you seem to be throwing a lot of parties here. You have purchased several cases of Guinness in just one week!”

Smithers finished his rant. In the distance, dogs could be heard barking as his voice hit that certain pitch.

Smithers ripped the tape from the calculator as he finished. His eyes grew wide as he looked at the total. He wadded up the tape and stuffed it in his pocket.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, need I remind you that this is a business. All these expenses and you have yet to produce a paying client! I was not expecting a profit your first week, but at least not to have to declare bankruptcy in that same time either. Hornsby, I think we may have been too generous. I think we should collect the credit cards and dole out an allowance.”

Dren raised his hand "I can explain th'gun thing."

Alex just stared, a slight smile creeping onto her face at the mention of the outrageous clothing bill.  "Oops."  She murmured.

One Smithers had finished his high-pitched delivery, Alex smiled cheerfully at him and responded.  "So what you're saying is that we're only to risk life, limb and lymph-node as long as we incur the minimum of expenses?  Never mind saving lives, its balancing the books that's important!"  She shook her head.  "I'm not going to apologise for any costs related to the whole bird-lady affair.  Or are you telling me that you have calculated how much you're willing to assign a human life?

And as for the rest...  We'd just been yanked away from home, dumped in a weird dimension and after a fairly nightmarish time dumped here to be told that we can't go back, so put up and shut up.  Most of us had nothing to our names except a few choice pieces of weaponry, so quite frankly its not surprising people have spend a fair amount of money on getting some semblance of a life back."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:33, Mon 14 Feb 2005.

Dren raises his hand again "W'can off th'vampire if it'll 'elp cut our over'ead!" and sadly, as playfully as he said it, there were few that could think he was really kidding.

“One of those cell phones was definitely not my fault. As for the other one, well…” Raven just shrugged instead of finishing her sentence.

Iain stood up: "Now, now..." He looked at Alex and Raven: "Ladies." He looked at Smithers and Johnny: "Gentlemen." He looked at Dren: "Um..." He turned to look at Smithers and smiled, circling the table to move near the man: "I don't think we've been properly introduced." He extended his hand: "Iain Short, nice to meet you, sir."

"I appreciate that you can't be privy to the details of what we do, and that some expenses may appear... Frivolous... So please let me try to explain. Suppose you were, say, I don't know..." He morphed into vamp face: "Bitten by a vampire, for instance." He morphed back to human face. "Now, blood stains real bad: you would definitely need a new shirt, most likely a new suit and, possibly, something else as well. You see, in our like of work clothes tend to get ripped, cut, stained with the nastiest fluids, which often makes them impossible to fix."

He looked at Raven: "The same is true for high-tech items: they get damaged, destroyed, at times lost. It's part of the job. But, you see, whenever a cell phone is crushed, or a shirt is cut through, there's a very frail human body on the receiving end of the blow, and it usually takes the brunt of the damage. Which brings me to the matter of the medical supplies."

He looked at Johnny: "People do get hurt, here, Mr. Smithers. Good people. And it is your job to provide our doctor with everything he deems necessary to treat them properly. As for our..." He looked at Iona: "Research budget... Believe me when I say, you don't want to cut it; you'd end up spending fifty bucks to save a penny."

He paused and moved away: "I admit there have been some... Mistakes." He looked disapprovingly at Dren, then back to Smithers: "But, I assure you, they were all made in good faith, in an attempt to do our job at best."

He looked at Smithers and smiled friendly: "See, my father was more or less in your line of work, so I realize how hard it is for you to make things check out nicely, especially when you can't see how some expenses could possibly be justified... So, if there's anything I can do to help you, please ask."

Dren raise his hand again "So back t'cutin' out over'head..." then sends a wicked smile to Iain "You'll 'ave t'forgive Mr. Short and Miss. Taylor. They come from a world where life was priceless an' saving th'world was a full time job." standing to cross toward Smithers it seemed Dren's attention was more on Iain than the little man, almost in a defensive nature, "I dinaa think our role 'ere at Cornerstone was properly defined. Now, as y'said there are initial expenses that are incurred durin' th'star up phase o'any buissness venture. An' if w'ave t'cut some corners fer future endeavors that's just what we'll have ta do." turning to Raven he seemed to confirm with her "Right?"

Iain raised an eyebrow: "We could start by cutting down on the alcoholic beverages a little, right Dren?"

Dren turned as if insulted by that comment, apperantly Iain had hit a nerve, "If I wanted advice from a dead man, I'd be a grave digger!"

   "Actually, you'd be..."
   Johnny cut himself short. "Nevermind. Do go on taunting eachother."

“Mr. Smithers, Raven put on her most disarming smile and shifted into her congenial corporate politics mode. “I’m afraid this has just been a misunderstanding. It wasn’t clear to us that there was a budget we had to adhere to. The fault for that doesn’t lie with Mr. Hornsby, but with us. We did not go through channels or follow proper procedure. We apologize for that and want to assure you that it won’t happen again. Obviously expenses must be prioritized so that one can separate the needs from the wants. I’m quite accustomed to balancing expenditures with revenue for both small and large groups, and I’ve become rather skilled at trimming unnecessary excess. Perhaps we could meet over some tea and go over the numbers together. With your valuable expertise, I’m sure we can work out an annual and monthly budget that will make everyone happy.” Raven had apparently done her fair share of kissing up to the suits in the past.

“Regarding the subject of income and generating business – are we to find paying clients on our own, or do we wait for management to assign jobs to us? I’ve proven to be successful at both acquiring clientele and producing a healthy profit in the past. I’m positive that we can have Cornerstone, Inc. out of its current deficit in just a short while.”

Dren smiled and looked from Raven back to Iain still smiling, and spoke only loud enough for wolves, vampire and other inhumans to hear, _{"Who's Hoooouse?"}

   Johnnny felt the need to back Raven - after all, she was standing up for all of them. Smithers' comments on the painkillers would have been outrageous, hadn't he been using them for strictly non-medical purposes. "Just for the record, my budget is well within reasonable bounds - actually, its smaller than back home. My personal expenses, considering the fact that I came here with not much but a ruined shirt, are diminuitive. I will start cutting the professional budget after I've pawned my room's...I mean, rooms'...furnishing."

   Remembering the latter part of Raven's monologue, he added: "And the issue Raven raised is of interest. If our straits be dire, I could always bring our cash to 'Vegas."

Dren looked around the room as if hearing music, "Sorry, Vegas? Vegas?"

  Johnny practically beamed up on another corner of the table, turning towards the Irishman with a broad, shameless grin. "You gamble?" he asked, apparently greatly humoured by something. "'Nother time. Focus. Accountant." He shook his head in amusement yet another time, then turned his attention back to Smithers.

Raven didn’t bother to look at Johnny or Dren, she stayed focused on Smithers and spoke in a very firm voice. “I promise you that no one will be gambling with the company money. What they do with their own personal funds is their business, but there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that corporate money will be used to make wagers in Vegas.”

Dren just sulks back to his chair and sit defeatedly.

Smithers was mildly surprised at Iain’s facial transformation. However, Smithers waited until Iain finished speaking and then he drew himself up to his full height. A dark and almost sinister look crossed into his eyes as he faced the vampire. Smithers, in a deep and low voice spoke in measured words, “You may represent Death, Mr. Short, but I represent Taxes. Do not mess with me!”

Hornsby cleared his throat. “Now now, Gentleman. Please be civil. Smithers here was simply pointing out that the money tree, although rather well branched, is not an endless supply. These expenditures were unusually high and they caught his attention. There are extenuating circumstances to be sure. Normally there is only one or two filling this position, and you are a team of seven. Of course the expenses will show a marketed increase.  And despite a lack of an actual client, you did manage to locate, investigate, and exterminate a viable preternatural threat. Bravo, I say. Good job!” Hornsby was actually all smiles and genuinely pleased and impressed.



Turning to Raven, Hornsby said, “I am sure we can work out an amicable resolve to this situation. We have some checks and balances in place. They just were not followed properly.”

Addressing Iona, Hornsby stated, “Ms Mclean, I was under the impression that you were going to handle the corporate finances? Personal items aside, it was to be your responsibility to insure proper channels were established for items above and beyond normal maintenance. Surely you do feel that a damaged bonnet on the SUV would qualify? Or was this to become a weekly occurrence? And of course, new acquisitions might need to be reviewed for approval. I assume you were aware of the weapons order and yet you felt the quantity was… appropriate for our needs?





Smithers eyes grew wide. The left one began to twitch in a tick like fashion. He rubbed his chest with his right hand as if his heart was aching.



“Thank you for that assurance, Dr. Cantrell”, Hornsby looked at Smithers and moved his hand in a slight downward motion at the stressed man, suggesting that Smithers calm down. “Gambling with corporate funds would not do. It would not do at all. It shall Not be tolerated.” Hornsby said as he glared at both Dren and Johnny.

Shifting his demeanor from a scolding look, Hornsby went on. “A simple matter of the final report being filed remains open. And of course, there is the matter of Mr. Swift’s injury. How is he doing? Any progress on finding a cause or cure?” Hornsby was visibly concerned.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:12, Wed 24 Aug 2005.

"In The Breakfast Club th'neardy guy always did everyone's report." with that Dren rolled his gaze over the Johnny, awaiting a snippy response.

Raven tried not to groan recalling the mountain of paperwork that laboring for a corporation always entailed. She glanced at Dren, things had been so much easier with their little two-person operation. She didn’t relish working for a big business once again and having to justify every little expense. This isn’t Dren’s version of Hell after all – it’s hers. “I’m trying to track down a particularly rare book that will hopefully provide us with some useful information regarding Pieran’s situation. A local bookseller claims to have found a copy and is expecting it to arrive some time this week. I plan to be at his shop everyday when his shipments arrive to see if the book is there. He tends to be a bit… absentminded. I’d hate for the book to show up and he sells it to someone else before I get there.”

“As for the cause – Pieran was stabbed by a poison dagger belonging to a mythological creature.” Raven almost sounded annoyed. It angered her that the tightlipped stance of their employers may have left the team under-prepared to face Erineyes which led to Pieran’s grievous injury. But she was going to try to keep her emotions in check for now, and go with the catching flies with honey approach. Any irritation was gone from her voice before she continued. “Speaking of reports Mr. Hornsby, and those who filled this position before us, where are all the files kept by our predecessors? This most recent threat is something that has plagued this area before and if we’d had access to any previous notes on it, we might’ve been able to deal with it and prevent serious injury to one of our team. I feel like we’re floundering in the dark here. I think Smithers will agree that there is no need to waste time, money, or resources on methods that have been proven by others to be futile. For the safety of our group, as well as a way to keep costs down, I think it would be prudent to make the older files available to us.”

"Or w'could set up a big marker board fer posterity." Dren pretends to write on an invisible board, to take his own dictation "Dear Gits. If couples star dyin' inna ritualistic manner. 'ead to th'lake an' summon an evil bird bitch."

Yes, yes, I know how he was injured. I inquired how was he doing. It was a simple question as to the health of your comrade. Not an opportunity to springboard into another line of questions.” Hornsby’s face was a mixed bag of uncharacteristic emotions. He was genuine in his concern for Pieran and still needed to maintain a semblance of control in the meeting.

However, your line of questions are not without concern or foundation. The truth of that matter is, I do not fully know. This area has been under insidious attack for some time during the extended absence of the late Guardian and your arrival. It would not surprise me that it was just this sort of activity that lead to the unexpected abandonment of the post, if you will. It was most irregular.”
This message was last updated by the GM at 03:35, Thu 17 Feb 2005.

   "Mr. Swift's condition is stable, and albeit hampering, not life-threatning. The wound does, however, appear to be infectous and I'm afraid the hourglass might be playing for the away team. This should be our primary concern as of present. Though he doesn't show it, he's...playing his last season unless..." Johnny swallowed in silence, appearing sullen for once.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:46, Thu 17 Feb 2005.

“What do you mean, unexpected abandonment of the post and that it was most irregular? Can you tell us what you do you know of what happened? And, does this mean there are no records of our predecessors?” Raven really didn’t like the sounds of this.

Iona opened her mouth in protest, “Well, … yes, … but…” Where to begin? How about not getting any instructions or maybe some On the Job Training, or just simply a clue as to expectations. It is not like she had ever been in the Demon hunting business before. Heck, she hadn’t even been in the Corporate world before. Cut a girl some slack.

Then the boys mentioned gambling and the focus was off of Iona. “It will be better to ask for training outside this meeting. It will wait. Besides, Raven is asking all the things I want to know and Hornsby is not focused on me now.”

“Thank you Mr. Hope. That is most distressing news indeed. But, hopefully your contact, Dr. Cantrell will prove to be useful.” Hornsby pondered his next statement carefully.

“I stated that your predecessor abandoned the post some time ago. It has been nearly a year. At first we just thought him on assignment or delving into something incognito.  But there was no word for too long. We initiated a search, of course and went to pick up the trail by seeing what it was he was working on with the records and archives. That is when we discovered that there were none. The entire history of this outpost was gone, scrubbed from existence. All electronic and hard copy records – missing. Lord Guardian Gatekeeper, Matt Gardiano, was highly concerned and though his influence is extensive, it is not limitless.

Once it became clear that this outpost had suffered a devastating attack, it was paramount to locate a replacement. As to what has happened to him, no one knows. Of course, he could have perished. But, there is speculation that the former Guardian did not meet with an untimely demise. Since all of the records have been lost, evidence that he may have done something with them is strong. We do not know if it was due to some coercion, or trickery, or if he went over to the dark side, if you will. And, since he worked alone, there was no one else we could query on the matter.

Finding a suitable replacement was proving to be impossible. Heroes of that caliber are hard to find these days. And it was the employment of a single individual that allowed this to be so devastating. It was decided that a team might do better then what had been utilized in the past. Separately you are slightly formidable. But unified, you have the potential to be much greater then the sum of your parts. You are truly Synergy, if you can learn to work and live together.”

Hornsby looked into the eyes of each person around the table. Pleased at what he saw, he said, “I know it will be rough at first, but like summer camp, I suspect these “strangers” before me will soon become close friends and comrades.” He clapped his hands together and looked briefly at Smithers. “As to the matter of business, you will both be assigned jobs and will occasionally have jobs seek you. And today I come with a request for our special services from a paying client.”

Smithers looked please and somewhat smug. “Of course that is only good news if their expenses do not exceed the remunerations.”

Hornsby ignored Smithers comment and continued. “The Rivermen’s Association has run into a bit of a snag. You may have heard of some of the barge groundings on the Mississippi downstream of St Louis. Even though the river charts are showing them to be in deep water channels, the tug and pushers are reporting that they are not just simply aground, but that they are actually high and dry! Then, after several hours, they refloat as if the water returns and they are able to continue on their journey. It is as if the levee becomes a dry bed for periods of time. Since there have not been any incidents up stream of St. Louis, the cause must be located here.”
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:41, Mon 21 Feb 2005.

Dren shakes his head, "If y' 'adn't noticed. One o'us ain't livin'." he gestured toward Iain before folding his arms.


That got Dren's attention.


Dren once again sank into his chair, clearly back to wondering why he kept comming to these meetings.

Johnny shot Dren a critical glance. "An' for th'record, one o'us ain't learnin', eithe'." He felt no need for a straight up confrontation, however, and turned back away quickly as he changed the topic.

   "'Hafta..." Johnny coughed uncomfortably, forcing his manners of speech back into a more civil pattern. "I have to admit, though, this assignment doesn't make a lot of sense - then again, neither did the last one, taking megalomanic bird-woman sporting spontaneous combustion and her Fire Demons into consideration. Consider it done...in a while."

   He leaned back and surveyed the others, expecting somebody to come up with an objection - any objection any moment.

Iain shook his head with a sigh and ignored Dren's comment: "Do we get paid on a per-day or per-case basis? Cause working around the clock just to end up being paid less, well, that would suck royally. Anyway, we'll try not to blow anything else up - as much as some of us enjoy it. That should help contain the costs."

Alex listened to Hornsby describing their newest problem, looking more than a little confused.  "Uh...  What exactly do you mean by high and dry?  My mind's conjuring up all kinds of wacky images of boats sat on the surface of the water and then just splashing down after a random period of time."

"If we're talkin' nautical metaphors, then th' ships are runnin' aground and th' water is recedin' leavin' them unable t'move. Traditionally it described boats tha' were stuck on rocks or beached. I'm thinking at this point it sounds like th'water just goes away and the boats run aground... then the water comes back an' they continue on thier way." Dren takes a sip from his water then add "Dinna, say I never worked a broiler."

Alex shrugged.  "I know what high and dry normally means.  But he said they refloat as if the water returns...  Which implies the water isn't going anywhere.  Hence the confusion."

“You need not worry about working too hard for insufficient compensation, Mr. Short.” Hornsby glanced at Smithers. “I am sure Accounting will be able to extract a just fee from those that can pay. We do have our cases that are pro bono, simply because it is the right thing to do, but we are not strictly a charity organization.”

Hornsby looked at Dren, “Quite right, Mr. Telarwin. The tugs and their barge loads seemingly run aground where they should not, then all the water seems to drain away. After some time, the river returns. They are able to continue their voyage once they have sufficient water to navigate.”

“What is most distressing, Ms Taylor, Hornsby shifted his gaze to meet Alex’s eyes, “is that the Captains and deckhands all report that the water appears to be where it should be. It is their electronic equipment that indicates what seems to be really happening. The Mississippi is a large, fast flowing river that is prone to flood in the spring, but never has it ever been dry. It is too important a bulk commercial venue.”

Hornsby looked at his PDA for some notes. “There is not much more I can tell you. Usually the reports are at night and the vessels affected are downstream in remote locations. All indications lead us to believe the cause may be centered right downtown. Since we don’t have anyone claiming responsibility or even a good idea as to the cause, I suggest the entire team investigate. You know what you must do, yes?

"I could hit the local demon hangouts, see what I can come up with; we'll also need someone to rule out the evil that men do, talk with both the good and the bad guys... Do we have any official contacts, people who've worked with Cornerstone before?"

He thought for an instant, then added: "And of course there's books... With lady firebird we found that she'd been doing it every thirty years, maybe this 'dry spell' thing happens periodically and nobody ever noticed because of the illusionary disguise... "

   Johnny quickly took notes of what Hornsby told them - he made a column Possible Causes, but couldn't help leaving it blank. "Well, Theseus has no idea where the exit lies, but perhaps he could find Ariadne's string, or mayhap he'll stumble upon Minotaur." A puzzled expression on his face, he added: "Are we on any timeline?"

“Official contacts? Hornsby locked eyes with Iain. “Former street resources? Mr. Short, were you not listening? All records were lost.” Hornsby reconsidered. “Your predecessor was very protective of his informational sources. However, I may have a lead on an establishment or two where one may find and create new contacts.”

Looking to Johnny, he said, “As for a timeline, the Rivermen’s Association would like this matter cleared up as soon as possible. Time is money and their cargo is being delayed. However, we can only do what we can with a certain amount of speed. You can not rush a soufflé and they will have to accept our timetable.”
This message was last updated by the GM at 21:21, Sat 19 Feb 2005.

"Yes, yes, I understand that. I was just hoping perhaps Cornerstone had ties of its own, regardless of the current... Keeper of the grounds, so to say. You know, with other organizations in the same line of work, something that could not be easily erased so completely."

"Books are a long way from being my thing, so I guess I'll go with Iain."  Alex absently played with the small, heavy silver cross she wore around her neck and looked to Hornsby.  "You said you knew of some establishments?  If you don't know any specific contacts, do you have a rough idea of who it would be worth speaking to?"  She paused for thought for a moment, a question she had meant to ask earlier resurfacing in her mind.  "Does Cornerstone have any particular reputation around here, or with...  Uh, certain parts of the population?"

   Johnny nodded, looking at Hornsby: "Makes sense. I'd love to get some data on the frequency and location of these abnormalities - getting some firsthand is probably as good a start as any." His trademark smile was touched by a hint of thoughtfullness, and...worry.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:58, Sat 19 Feb 2005.

“We are pretty much the only game in town, so to speak,” Hornsby said to Iain. "There is the occasion vigilantly, but they are hardly organized. There are other outposts, of course, but we tend to focus on our own regions unless there is evidence of a worldwide event. Nothing so dramatic is happening here.”

Hornsby tapped on his PDA again. “Ms Taylor, you and Iain may find some luck at Six Feet Under, a rather seedy little establishment near the industrial district on the south side. They cater to the Goth crowd and certain unexplained incidents have occurred there. 1313 Mockingbird Lane, in the Brentwood region.

Although we try to maintain a low profile, our name is not completely unknown. In certain circles, it could garner you some respect or insight an attack, depending on who you speak it to. One does not engage in the business of thwarting evil without evil taking note. However, the name Cornerstone is not a VIP pass. Dress accordingly or you may not even get in.”

“I will see to it that what data we have on frequency and timing is forwarded to you, Mr. Hope. Maybe a pattern will emerge,” Hornsby said to Johnny with a smile.
This message was last updated by the GM at 18:33, Sun 20 Feb 2005.

Iona had been silently scribbling all this while, except during that brief interlude with Hornsby. Her cheeks were still a bit red from that fun fun FUN little exchange. Now she looked up.

"I'll go with on that trip, Johnny. I'd like to check the sites too." Casting a glance down to her notes, Iona then looked over to Hornsby. "When you have a moment, may I have a word with you, Mr Hornsby?"

---

:: Iona's notes ::

CORNERSTONE

• Cornerstone - outpost to what?
• Lord Guardian Gatekeeper, Matt Gardiano - in charge of what, exactly? What the big picture here?
• Are there other Guardians and outposts? Here, in the country? Is it possible to have an exchange of information with them?
• Previous Guardian of Cornerstone disappeared 1 year ago.
  • How does this correlate with Ninti and the Solrites?
  • Why did the predecessor leave?
  • How did he leave? Volountarily or by force or by death?
  • Did he erase the records or someone else?
  • What is known about our predecessor? How was he picked for the job? How long did he have it? Wasn't he supervised? Who hired him? Where did he come from? Does he have any ties to anyplace?
• Who might want to attack Cornerstone? Who are the organisation's main enemies?
• What has Raven garnered from the objects around the estate?
• How much do the local authorities know about Cornerstone? Is there some sort of 'legit' front to the operations?
• How did the Rivermen’s Association come to contract the services of Cornerstone?
• How does business usually land in Cornerstone's lap? Advertising, direct marketing or what?
• Do we get a monthly salary then? Is there a budget drawn up? I don't suppose there are any copies of the previous years' financial tatements somewhere in Smither's archives?
• And how did Matt Gardiano select us to be the new champions?

BARGE GROUNDINGS

• Who benefits from the barge groundings? Follow the money trail.
• When do the groundings occur? Check with lunar phases, solar phases. Cross-reference with kalendars of all sorts, scientific and religious and pagan and whatnot. Cross-reference with other happenings around the same time, te stranger the better.
• Where do they take place? Same place each time, or does it vary? Check the locations' history with the city's historical archives.
• Make observation on site.
• Take sample of water and soil.
• Check with the Sight.
• Is that nightclub the Barge anywhere near this? Maybe Dren can run into his new lady friend... *eg*

Hornsby looked around the room and could sense the creative and investigative juices flowing. “Right then. We have an initial plan. Alex and Iain will investigate the club looking for the Remoras on the underbelly of society, I will see to details as to times and locales of the groundings and the rest of you can take the Chevy to the levee and see if the levee is dry.”



Tapping on the PDA again he turned to Iona, “How about Thursday, say 10 o’clock?” He began to make notations on the PDA. “If there is nothing further. We will be in touch. Come along Smithers.” Hornsby prepared to leave.
This message was last updated by the GM at 20:47, Mon 21 Feb 2005.

Standing Dren smiled a Iain, "Underbelly o'Society. Y'should feel right at 'ome." then turned and headed for the door.

Iain watched as Dren left the room, then looked at the others and commented: "So, just out of curiosity: would anyone mind terribly if I... I don't know, dumped him off a mountaintop or something?"

   "Most likely, only the locals - though I figure you'd be more successful with a two barrel shotgun and a bottle of Heineken." Johnnny shook his head as he headed towards the door himself. "But really - you wouldn't want to add any fuel to the fire - as it is, I can already feel the heat."

“With all due respect, Mr. Hornsby, we can’t put our entire team on this. One of our members has effectively been taken out of the game. I’m all for making paying clients a priority, but right now nobody seems at risk of any physical harm due to these groundings.” Raven looked at the rest of the group. “I’m confident that you can handle a little recon and questioning without me tagging along so, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to keep working on Pieran’s situation. It seems more immediately critical to me.”



“Actually, there wasn’t anything in the books about the thirty year cycle. Pieran and Iona discovered that through newspaper archives and internet surfing. Those might be good sources again. Trust me - I’m not the one you want doing computer research, unless you want the computer to end up like my cell phones. I have some time before I have to head off to the bookstore so, I’ll certainly check the books for anything I can find that might apply to the groundings. Call me if you find anything that might help narrow the search.” Raven smiled at Johnny, “I’ll keep the phone on my desk with the ringer on loud so I’ll be sure to notice, and I’ll take my latest electronic leash with me when I go out.” With a look at Smithers Raven added, “I promise to be careful with it.”
This message was last edited by the player at 15:22, Tue 22 Feb 2005.

Hornsby pocketed the PDA and headed toward the door to exit the conference room. “Whatever you and your team deem as fitting, Dr. Cantrell. I would not attempt to advise any of you as to how to conduct your business. I merely bring matters to your attention. How you intend to deal with them is up to you.” He headed out the door and down the Grand Staircase.



“See that you do. These devices do not grow on trees you know.” Smithers gave Raven a sideways glance as he fumbled with his unwieldy mound of supplies.

“Oh, do come along Smithers!” Hornsby called from the stairway. Smithers hunched over his belongings and scurried out of the room, not unlike a rodent scampering away with a scrap.

   "Sounds excellent - no having to put up with Dren's driving either, I guess," he said, smiling fondly. "How about you clear the sky with Hornsby, if you can catch him, and knock on my door when you're ready?"

“No,” Iona said with a sigh. She was clearly irritated at Horsby’s brush-off, but not really in the mood to be confrontational. And that “Smither’s” guy would also be present. Two against one, not the best of odds.

“I suspect that conversation might be a bit longer then we have time for. I need to wrap up a couple of things in the lab and then we can be off. I'll knock on your door in thirty or forty minutes.”

_{Monday Oct. 18th,  noon-ish}

Johnny and Iona headed south and arrived at Mudds Landing, Illinois. This was the southern most location of the barge groundings that they would check out. It had been a sunny drive and the fall leaves were coming into full color. Soon they would scatter the ground with their natural mosaic. The river flowed swiftly as the small car ferry made its way across the muddy Mississippi. Once on the other side of the river, they headed down the rutted dirt and gravel road till they were close to the reported location of the barge grounding. The water flowed nearly without sound. The occasional chirping of the birds gathering for their winter migration added background music to this riverbank.

Assuming a passive position in the passenger seat, Johnny unfolded a few far-too-large maps while Iona handled the monstrous van, trying as best he could to provide a few directions, but concentrating on finding out where in the nine hells they were and whether that strange star-like symbol would be a church or a diner.

   "So, I've been thinking a bit, in between chugging down pills and browsing internet po..." He paused momentarily, bewildered as he, with a finger, traced what might either be a road, a river or the next Dalai Lama. "Po...police files. I was thinking we might be dealing with an amplified natural phenomenom - the first thought to strike me was tidal water and all that - the time which the ships spent stranded makes that not completely impossible."

   Johnny shut up for a moment, as the car stopped, folding his maps back into a majestic lump of paper. He had been thinking they were somewhere around that strange star-like thing - which apparently was so universally recognized the map-makers had felt no need to explain it - but it became obvious that they were on an entirely different side of the river. Nonetheless, the marked their arrival at the first of the multiple spots.

   "However, this poor excuse for a map doesn't cover the topographical features of the river-bottom, so we have no way of knowing whether the points of stranding are linked to what might be - from a completely relative perspective - shallow waters. Then again, we don't have those spots particularly accurately marked either, so..."

   Johnny threw a quizzical glance in Iona's direction, apperaing rather discontent with his own theories. As they walked over to simply look at the river, he idly commented: "Currently planning to coordinate strandings with tidal phases and shallowness of water - any ideas for on-spot investigation? Unless you feel like going all scuba, I'm afraid this looks just like a river." As an afterthought he added: "Not that I'm suggesting anything."

Iona had been driving with her ususal economical motions and got them to their destination swiftly, every now and then casting a quick glance at the mess Johhny was making of the maps. Parking the car, she took a moment to sort of the paper lump the lad had left behind, carefully rolling the maps (so as not to make more creases on the paper, for creases were the source for tearing - bad stuff in the land of maps). From her purse she took out a rubber band, swiftly securing the roll, and tucked it all away. There.

Iona smiled as she jotted down his theories in her notepad. Johnny was sligthly amusing, in his own slightly crazy way.

"Not really dressed for scuba-diving, sorry," she said, brushing away a strand of hair that had escaped her scarf, a purple one - not blue for once. Then she started taking pictures with the built-in camera in her phone. "But I suppose we could start out by trying to eliminate ordinary scientific sources for the, uh, groundings." She paused in her clicking and rummaged around in the treasure grove known as her purse a bit more.

"Here," she said, handing Johnny a vial, a stopper and a smile. It was a pleasant day and Iona tried to enjoy it much as possible, thinking she would probably spend quite some time locked-up in the lab pretty soon. "Sample up. I think some water and some mud should be enough, don't you?"

While Johnny tried to avoid falling into the cold water, Iona took a few more pictures of the site, finishing up with a small video clip panning across the scene. Then she tucked away the cam-phone and took a deep breath, listening to the chirps of the birds and other sounds.

"The water's so fast and quiet. Wouldn't that be a sign of depth?" Hmm. How to measure that? She rummaged around in her purse yet again, hoping to find something useful. "You wouldn't happen to have a string on you?" she said to Johhny. Or maybe she could use some more rubber bands. Though she probably wouldn't have enough to actually reach the river bottom. On the other hand, that would let them determine how shallow it wasn't which might prove some point. Data gathering was a good thing, Iona firmly believed that.

On the third hand, they wouldn't be able to measure out in the middle of the river, where the barges had presumably gotten stuck. Blah. She looked back up at Johnny, accepting his collected sample. She made sure it was properly sealed and then quickly scribbled date, location, description and numbered it, before placing it upright in a little plastic container. She would put that in the car later.

"I've gotta be honest - I know nothing about sailing and boats and marine stuff." She sighed. "But if we take into account that magic might be involved, which seems to be norm lately, then we should probably be looking to the why's and not the how's of all this." She looked around, taking a new look at their surroundings, a more suspicious look. Why here? Was the occurrence at all related to the place, or was it connected to the timing?

"Let's have a look at the other sites and see if we can spot... something, anything interesting."

After Mudds Landing, they drove to other locations of known groundings. One was just north of Needmore, Missouri. Then they looked at another one just south of Herculaneum, Missouri and finally a location just off of Kimmswick, Missouri. At each site they collected samples of mud and water, took pictures, and documented the scene. Everything seemed perfectly normal.

As Johnny and Iona headed toward downtown, the radio played some forgotten song. Traffic was light for a Monday and they made relatively good time. Soon the buildings grew taller and closer together. Traffic began to close in a bit as they crossed from the rural to the suburban cities, and then into the city of St. Louis proper.

Although it lacked a mass transit rail system like the cities of New York or Chicago, St. Louis was every bit a major metropolis. Even so, it still held onto its Midwest values of hard work and family. The song on the radio long since ended and gave way to the rapid fire shouting that seemed to dominate the concept of radio ads. There was still a sense of “neighborhood” and not the corporate isolation that some downtowns would promote. City busses moved the masses as did taxis. The highway allowed Johnny and Iona to avoid most of the bustle of downtown as they zoomed toward the town center and the riverfront. Standing before them and growing larger as they approached was the gleaming steel of the Arch.

Symbolizing the Gateway to the West, this modern monument was rooted in the city’s history. Here the explorers, farmers, ranchers, trappers, gold diggers of yesteryear would gather their supplies, say goodbyes and head west into the wilderness that was America. St. Louis was the last major city these people would see. Many would die on the trail, but most would survive. The Arch was a symbol of their courage, their hope, and for many their last look at “civilization”.

Just before crossing the bridge that would take them over the Mississippi and into Illinois, Johnny turned off onto the city streets. Rounding Busch Stadium, where the baseball Cardinals played, he maneuvered toward the Jefferson National Expansion Park where the Arch dominated the river’s edge. The radio had been chattering on a long time about local and national news with commercial breaks. The park museum was actually underground between the span while the grassy park above hosted small groups of people wandering about. Johnny drove past the park to the river’s edge. Driving through the flood wall gate and onto the levee, he turned south onto the cobblestones that formed the river’s bank.

Moored along the bank were the old style paddlewheel steamers of yesteryear. Still working the river, these vessels would play host to river tours. In the center of the river, a pusher style tugboat was thumping its way northbound pushing a line of six barges, three long and two wide, against the rapid flow of the waterway. Fewer persons were along the river. Most of the tours were on the weekends and it was too early for the dinner cruises that a couple of the ships offered. Two elderly men sat on a bollard where heavy manila lines secured one of the tour boats. They were talking to each other and watching the river flow by.

During their drive, Iona had tried to dial in some decent rock on the radio. She found news, commercials, talk shows, commercials, commercials, comm-- blah! Irritated, Iona clicked her tongue and gave up. She should have brought her own CD's. She made a mental note to stock up in all the Cornerstone cars, just as they pulled up and parked the car.

Iona scrambled out and took a look around the place.

   "I fear we might be two who will never agree on what's good music," Johnny said with a smile. "Actually, that's something I can state to pretty much anybody with a relative amount of certainity."

   Johnny returned his attention to the road for a moment, checking his speed'o'metre to make sure he was within the legal limits. He was definitely a different kind of driver than Dren. Certainly, his lack of competence could play in, but it was probably rooted deeper than that. He might be a gambler, but it didn't inspire any need to run unnecessarry risks. Mayhap did it instead sate his hunger. If anything, he was probably more alike Iona that any of the others.

   "One sample coming up, I," Johnny said, showing her one of the glass tubes they used to store the water. She was strangely comfortable being around - not like Pieran, who was suspectible to anything, or Iain the fanged.


   Johhny walked over to the elderly men with a smile, nodding politely as he approached them. "Good day, gentlemen," he addressed them. "Beatiful weather today, wouldn't you say?" Briefly allowing them a window to speak, he continued: "A shame to be working on such a day, but at least I'm working outdoors. Do excuse my manners - I would be Mr. Hope from the Cornerstone Enviromental Division, we have heard rumours of some abnormal phenomenom distrubing the traffic on the river. My partner and I, however, are pretty much stranded as to what might be causing it. Good thing we're paid by the hour!" Johnny smiled, praying to no particular deity these two men weren't your run of the mill senile pensioners.

"Evening Mister. Yep. Sure is some kind of strangeness happening round here. Hard to tell though. But I suspect it is also what is affecting my singing. Can only sing about death or dieing. Nothing happy." The old man said. "suspect it is affecting them boats too. Only happens at night though".

   "What, your singing you say?" Johnny commented with a suprised expression. "So, it's always at night...interesting, to say the least. Cornerstone Enviromental' rarely gets to do much along the lines of interesting work, unless nitrogenic oxides are what gets you going, if you catch my drift." Johnny smiled pleasantly and looked over to where Iona was busying himself.

   "How about you sing me a song?" Johnny suggested. "Try some Louis Armstrong mayhap, though I suspect that's not gloomy enough for this...phenomenom. No, tell you what - got to get this sample, lest the miss be bad, and I'll get right back to you?"

   Johnny nodded his own agreement, after which he set off in direction the river, thoughts churning through his head yet more violently than before. He knew there was something going on here which he couldn't quite grasp. Something which connected this strangeness into a slightly more reasonable form. He took care to ensure his path crossed Iona's.

As Johnny walked toward Iona, the old man watched. He turned to his friend and said,
“Ya know, it is like the day the music died. Or more like the night the music died. Anyway, nothing more we can do here for now. We best be moving on ‘fore we become like the music our selves.”

The friend nodded in agreement. Each reached under thier coat and withdrew a small flask. They both took a nip off their flasks as if saying "Good Bye" to the river. The two men stood and moved off the levee and into the park.

---

After collecting their samples and looking around, Iona and Johnny headed back home. Analysis of the samples needed to be done. The notes and photos would have to be complied to see if they revealed any clues.

They arrived back at home. Johnny helped Iona carry in the samples of water and river mud. The grandfather clock in the Great Hall struck 4:00 as they entered. The afternoon was still bright and the air just a little crisp.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:01, Wed 23 Mar 2005.

Raven was getting ready to head off to the bookstore when she saw that Iona was back, and decided to catch up with the scientist first. Carrying her notes in one hand, she tapped lightly on the open lab door as she entered. “Got a minute?” she asked.

Iona looked up from the myriad of vials that she was unpacking. "Sure, what's up?"

“Do you think Hornsby’s telling the truth about all the missing records or are they just trying to keep us in the dark about some things?”

Iona made a pfft'ing sound and an eloquent shrug-and-hand gesture: the universal sign for "Who the heck knows?". "I haven't really wanted to dig into Hornsby's head," she said, somewhat more articulated. "That man kinda scares me. Don't much care for what I might find in there... besides, he'd probably notice in a blink I went digging in his mind."

Raven nodded. “Yeah, you might have a point there.”

Iona cast an appraising glance at Raven and raised an eye-brow. "What about you? You have your own little way of finding out stuff, right?"

“Well, I haven’t had a chance to check that cell yet, but I have been giving a closer inspection to some of the weapons in the armory. I was actually able to look a few of them up in the library, based on some clues I got from my readings. A couple of them have a very rich history.” Raven opened her notebook to some pages she had book-marked. Her notes weren’t nearly as neat and organized as Iona’s, but they were readable. They included a few small sketches and the occasional scrawled notation in the margin. Iona leaned over to have a look too.

“That silver dagger is an authentic Paul Revere.” Raven’s animated tone suggested that she was quite thrilled by the discovery.“He was a silversmith, but he wasn’t known for crafting weapons. It’s a very rare item. I saw it being used to slay what I think was a werewolf, but I couldn’t tell who was wielding it at the time. I saw a few of the other weapons being used against various supernatural creatures, too. The Nepalese Kora is the only one that seems to have some mystical properties of its own. It’s been imbued with a cleansing energy. It has some sort of ritual purpose, but I haven’t been able to find out any specifics.”

"Well, I could try go online and see what I can find. We could take pictures of the pieces and upload them to various discussion groups - there's bound to be a few raisins out there with all the nuts," Iona said. She really did love the 'net.

“Sure, go ahead. I’ll give you a copy of my notes and anything else that you think might help you,” Raven said. “A few of the weapons are actually historically notable. The Chinese Dadao was used by a peasant that started an uprising that ultimately led to the fall of the Ming Dynasty. The Scottish Claymore once belonged to Alister Macleod, a direct descendent of King Olave of the Castle Dunvagan in the western isles of Scotland. It was used to slay a Chaos Demon, bringing unprecedented peace to the feuding factions of Macleods for years. And the War Hammer was wielded by a young Scottish peasant woman named Lillard Stone. The English commander, Earl Hereford, killed Miss Stone’s lover. Miss Stone responded by leading the villagers against the English tyranny, and avenged her lover by personally killing the commander in the Battle of Ancrum.” Raven shook her head, “Love is the cause of so many feuds. You have to wonder if it’s really worth it.”

Well now. Wasn't this the perfect lead-in. Iona thought about Dren and their conversation at the night-club, the evening all the business with Erinyes had started for them. Careful now, you don't want to ruin his chances. Just prod her carefully. Out loud, Iona said:

"Well, sure, it's a popular excuse. But I think in most cases, love is used as an excuse to cover up for the real culprit emotions: pride and greed. Besides," she added casually, "would you really give up on the notion of love that easily? I would have thought you had to beat them off with a stick."

Raven’s brow furrowed as she looked at Iona. “You’re a very intelligent woman, I shouldn’t have to tell you that most men don’t like women who are smarter than them. The men who do want me for my mind, pretty much don’t want me for anything else. They’re usually old, boring, tweed-wearing, stuffed-shirts anyway.

Not all of them, Iona thought. This was her cue: "What about Dren? Not much tweed on that one. Although he does fill out a cotton T-shirt quite nicely."

Dren had started to enter the lab holding the movie section of a newspaper when Iona's mention of his name triggered him, not unlike a dog. One part curiosity and two parts mischievousness caused him to slip his right foot back and flatten against a nearby nook, vanishing masterfully into the shadows. It was a technique that was perfected against trained security guards who were looking for intruders and it was certainly going to work against two gabbing girls who probably reminded teachers of the pop quizzes back in high school.

“Dren?!?” Raven mimicked the pffft sound Iona had made earlier, and then she saw Iona’s face. “Wait, you’re serious?”

"Like Smithers on April 15," Iona said gravelly. She then flashed a dimpled smile, and carried on. "But yes, seriously: Why not?"

Dren risked leaning forward, thinking Yeah, Why Not?

“For starters, the last long term relationship Dren had, ended before lunch the next day.” Raven laughed out loud at the very idea of the two of them as a couple.

“Besides, I’m definitely not his type. He’s a bright lights big city kind of guy. He needs somebody who can party all night with him. I’m more the curl-up-with-a-good-book kind of woman.”

"Oh come on, don't tell me you've never thought about a romance with Dren?" Iona's voice expressed her deep skepticism.

“No! Of course not,” Raven exclaimed. “That would be like mixing oil and water. Some things are just against the laws of nature. Try all you want, they'll keep driving each other apart.”

Dren almost fell against the wall in defeat. He had always known there were differences between him and Raven, but until this point there was at least a small part of him, that one chamber of his heart, that he reserved for Raven - even if he didn't have a good reason to do so. However, as Raven confirmed his only reservation, he felt a void open in his gut and threaten to devour him from within. She was after all the smart one, if she could not see any successful chance of dating then the game had come to its end. Looking back at the movie listing in his hand Dren left the room as ghostly as he'd entered and tossed the paper in the nearest waste bin he found.

But in truth, the conversation was just starting to get interesting.

No mention of Raven herself being averse to the idea, Iona thought, just a lot pointing out why Dren wouldn't want her. And Iona knew how wrong that assumption was. She opened her mouth, on the verge of pursuing that point, but abruptly changed her mind. Raven obviously wasn’t ready to see Dren in that light. They needed to take a different tack.

"Uh-huh, yeah sure, can't argue with Mother Nature." she said instead. "So if life were a salad, you'd hold the dressing, is that it? Sounds dry and bland, to me. Like all work and no play. And that just isn't healthy. Don't you want to spice up your life every now and then with something hot and exciting?"

Raven shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. If I came across the right spicy dressing.”

Iona nodded, backing off a bit. "Well hey, who am I to talk. Like you said, I'm just as romantically-challenged as you are."

Raven looked at Iona with a single raised eyebrow, as if she didn’t really believe that of the scarf-wearing scientist.

Iona made a face, then suddenly laughed. "On the other hand, remember what Mae West said: A hard man is good to find...!"

And back, he spurred like a madman
Shrieking a curse to the sky
With the white road smoking behind him
And his rapier brandished high.
             - Loreena McKennitt, The Highwayman

BAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAM!
The gunfire paused just long enough for the clip to drop from the weapon. In one smooth and practiced motion Dren was slamming another clip up and into the still leveled gun, even before the spent clip was clacking against the counter of the shooting range. It’s musical dance was quickly snuffed out as Dren’s finger rapidly emptied the new clip.
BAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAM!
The tendon of his right wrist had started to burn with an intensity that rivaled that of the gun barrel while this newly spent clip dropped down to join his 2 brothers. As Dren tried to slam the 4th clip into the .45 he felt a split second of resistance that was the edge of the clip being caught on the side of the grip and slipping past the housing for the cartridge. Instead of slamming the clip into the gun, he only managed to drive it into the tip of his little finger with enough force to pinch the skin against the side of the smoking weapon. Dren cursed loudly as the clip went sailing off and his empty left hand slapped the hollow butt of the gun with enough power that it threatened to cut his thick palm. He slammed the gun on the counter next to the 3 empty clip and took a deep breath trying to exorcise Raven’s painful words that still echoed in his mind. Regardless of his efforts, the loud gunfire was unable to drown out the same message.
“... Some things are just against the laws of nature…”

Dren’s senses slowly returned as the blur of rage cleared from his eyes. He was suddenly aware that he’d slammed the gun on the counter. Picking it up he turned it over and examined it, he wasn’t aware of any damage that would reduce it’s ability to function but he wouldn’t be sure until he took it apart.

”She’s right. Her top priority right now is finding some magical cure to a mystical cause or translating a passage that will unravel a puzzle… Me? I’m about to take apart a gun to make sure it works.” using the remote control he turned off the local CD player and ejected The Book of Secrets CD before collecting his things. Looking back up at the shredded paper target at the far end of the range he tried to mentally compare it Raven’s books, ”I guess we really don’t have anything in common.”

Pieran sat on the small porch that connected his room to Johnny’s. He was dressed in a sleeveless t-shirt and sweatpants with only socks on his feet. He reclined in the patio lounge chair next to a table cluttered with boots, thread, and a very sharp, peculiar looking needle. “Pieran?” he heard a questioning voice call from his door.

“Out here,” he answered. Normally he would personally greet his guests, but with his aching arm still wrapped in a sling, he found it awkward to quickly extricate himself from the chair. Raven stepped onto the porch carrying two tall, thermal mugs in each of her hands, while a small shopping bag was tucked under one arm. Pieran’s eyes widened in joyful surprise. “Fair Raven, my eyes delight me! You are the second lovely woman to grace me with her presence; Alexis has also been blessing me with her company this week. Fortune must favor the foolish. But where are my manners, please sit.” The calming aura of his room felt like a refuge at times. A place to get away from some of the other tensions floating about the house. Pieran began to clear the table between the chairs so she would have a place to rest the mugs.

“You make enjoyable company,” Raven said. She set one of the mugs on the table and then helped Pieran move the other items. She picked up the long, white needle and turned it in her hand. “Deer bone?” Raven’s appreciation of his skill with age-old techniques showed in her voice.

“I was just mending my boot sheath. It started to make a flapping noise when I walked, betraying my cat-like grace.” He smiled, then took the mug of Raven's spiced tea and breathed in its heady aroma. “I smelled this before. At last, the mystery is solved.” He moaned in exquisite delight after sucking down a large gulp. “Clove, allspice perhaps? Orange. And something delightfully sinful. This is an excellent tea, Raven, and it cheers me.”

The seraphic strains of Madam Butterfly’s ‘Un bel di, vedremo’ could be heard wafting from his room as Raven took a seat in the other chair, setting down both the needle and her shopping bag. “You should teach the rest of our merry band that it’s sometimes better to repair than to replace.”

Pieran furrowed his brow and looked at her with an unspoken question.

“The meeting this morning, you were smart to skip it. Hornsby brought some weaselie bean-counter with him to chew us out for spending too much money. Not a big deal. I’ve met his type before. If we keep an eye on some of the unnecessary extravagances and let him feel like he makes us tighten our belts from time to time, we should be fine. Guys like that just need to feel important.”

“So, are we in the poor house?”

“Nope, just the dog house.”

He chuckled. “Oh well, I suppose I can get back the deposit on the Ferrari. Damn. What else did Bosley say?” He hid behind his mug of tea, his eyes peering innocently above the brim.

Raven took a sip of tea before she continued, “He gave us an assignment, something to investigate. He said we’re getting paid for this one, but those details are being handled further up the chain of command.”

“What’s the case?”

“Some mysterious groundings of a few barges on the Mississippi. The charts show them to be in deep water but the water suddenly drains away only to return some time later, and then they continue on their happy way. The subsequent delays are costing a lot of money, so The Riverman’s Association hired us to look into it. They said the water still appears to be there but their electronic equipment tells them differently.” Raven shrugged. “It could just be the rantings of a few drunken sailors but the others are looking into it.”

“Hmm, curious.” It was obvious to him that she didn’t find the case of much interest, so he didn’t press for more. “I have been forgetful again. How clumsy. I wanted to thank you for retrieving my bow at the lake.”

“It was no trouble.”

“No, fairest. I’m certain someone would have taken it back but what you said meant a lot to me. It does mean a lot to me. I won’t forget it.” He saluted her with a salaam coming from his heart. “Ne-a?ėše.”

“You’re most welcome. I’m glad I was able to help.”

A silence settled in between them. Pieran took the quiet moment in, drinking it up and filling his senses with it – the sounds of chirping birds outside blended with the opera still playing from his room; the scent of fresh air combined with the aroma from the tea; the feel of the cool wind contrasted with the warm cup in his hand; and then there was the taste of the flavorful liquid and the sight of the attractive woman sitting next to him. For Pieran the moment felt fulfilling. His gaze came to rest on Raven. She fidgeted under the weight of the silence, her eyes clouded with thoughts that blocked her senses from the beauty that was all around her. He could tell she had something she wanted to say, even as she sipped her tea in an awkward attempt to cover her hesitation. He could wait. He knew the words would come when she was ready.

Her voice was quiet and her disappointment obvious when she finally spoke. “I’m afraid that book I told you about still hasn’t arrived at the bookstore.” She forced a more optimistic tone before going on, “But they are expecting it to arrive any day now. It won’t be much longer before we’ll have you back to your old self.” It was hard to tell who she was trying to convince more – Pieran or herself.

He let go a tiny, melancholic laugh. “I thought it was my ‘old self’ that drives most of you crazy. Or, should I say old selves - plural?”

“You take a little getting used to at first, but you grow nicely on a person.”

He nodded. “Like a fungus.”

That caught Raven off guard and made her laugh out loud. It pleased him to be the source of her amusement, because few things in the world sounded as delightful as a woman’s laughter. Raven had become more comfortable around him lately, and not as quickly offended as she once was by his occasional slip into the antique fashion of addressing women. He was trying to be more conscious of that so that he would slip less often, but he found the constant pain made it difficult for him to concentrate on that effort.

He noticed her glancing at the silver cross that hung from a chain around his neck and rested near his heart. It was a pretty thing, even without the gem that had long ago resided at its center, and altogether feminine. A gift from a woman he had once known. Raven turned away when she saw that he had caught her looking. Any thoughts she had about the necklace she kept to herself. She retrieved the small shopping bag and handed it to Pieran. “I stumbled upon something else while I was at the bookstore that made me think of you. It might help you pass the time until you’re fully back on your feet.”

He took the bag, puzzlement replacing his earlier Cheshire grin. But his mouth fell open in wonder as he retrieved the book she’d brought him. “Songs of Yeats.” His eyes wandered over the faded yellow pages and it was impossible to keep from jolting when he read the copyright. A first edition. “M’ Lady…”

“Books are like wine, the best ones are finely aged.”

“Yeats is one of my favorites. How did you know?”

Raven shrugged. “Woman’s intuition. Or maybe it’s that big, glaring neon sign over your head flashing: HOPELESS ROMANTIC.”

A subtlety in her tone that she had tried to keep hidden caught his attention. “You have a poor opinion of romantics, don’t you?”

Raven was startled by the abrupt observation. She looked him directly in the eyes, “I have no issue with romantics. How others choose to live their lives is their business. I guess I’m just a little too practical to get caught up in all that.” She pointed at the book in Pieran’s hand. “I agree that there’s a beauty in the language of his poems, but the things he talks about are based more on illusion than reality. I choose to live in the real world.”

He could not suppress the twist of his head, the arc of his brow. His eyes fell upon her like a hail of arrows. “Argue for your limitations, and sure enough, they’re yours.”

Raven frowned at him.

“Richard Bach, from the book so relevantly titled Illusions.”

He held the book of poetry out in front of him. “Books are like wine, the best ones are finely aged,” he said, throwing Raven’s own comment back at her.

“It’s just an expression.”

“I don’t believe you. Taking the time to find the perfect gift and then sitting with me on my porch, sipping tea – hardly the most practical use of your time. The passion you have for things that have been forgotten by generations. The kindness you showed Priestess Ninti. My dear lady, you are the one clinging to an illusion by thinking you have created a life devoid of any shades of romance and telling yourself that is the way to live.”

“Love is not all: It is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain,
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
and rise and sink and rise and sink again.
Love cannot fill the thickened lung with breath
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;
Yet many a man is making friends with death
even as I speak, for lack of love alone.”

“Edna St. Vincent Millay.”

“Raven, by the souls I keep, I swear to you there is nothing so real in all the world. You just need to give yourself permission to feel it.”

A brief flicker of a smile passed over her lips.

“What was that thought you just had? Tell me.”

She met his gaze, looking a bit self-conscious. “It was nothing.” She hesitated, “It’s just… you’re not the first person today to suggest that I should have more romance in my life.”

He smiled a knowing smile. “The universe is speaking to you, trying to tell you something. It is up to you to decide if you are ready to hear the message.” He looked out at the colors of the sky as the sun faded below the horizon. “There’s music in the sunset, you have only to allow yourself to hear it.”

_{Monday 18th Oct. After sunset until the wee hours}

The dark, nearly desolate city street was illuminated with the pale yellow light of the fading streetlamp. It hummed slightly as the glow is gave off cut the shadowy gloom of the buildings. They were old brick edifices, years of weathering and change showed the passage of time. Many of the business had not changed hands in years, while others lay empty, awaiting their next metamorphous. Out of character, a neon sign, purple in color and shaped like a tombstone, flickered slightly in the night. The black light letters spelled out “6 Ft Under” as they illuminated the short set of concrete steps to the basement club. The street, the side alley, and nearby lot were nearly packed solid with cars. Despite the fact that of all vehicles were of different makes, they still were all similar, in color at least. Black cars predominated the scene, but there were the dark blue, dark green, and the dark gray. The cars so blended into the night one had to be observant to see how many there were.

Toward the far end of the lot, a couple of parking slots remained. As Alexis and Iain approached the entrance, a slight semblance of life could be sensed. The smell of cigarette smoke wafted from the side alley where a small group of shadowy figures gathered to place an additional nail into their own coffins.  Down the short flight of steps, through the heavy steel door and into the club’s tight entryway. Two bulky men stood watch at the entrance. They had shaved heads, adorned with heavy dark makeup that outlined their eyes, and added definition to their cheekbones. It gave them the slight appearance of living skulls. They looked Alex and Iain over, and then gave Alex a good second look. Not saying a word, they gave a single nod in unison toward the club proper. Entrance had been granted.

Within the club, the band played a song rich with deep tones and darkness. The singer droned on about death or end of days. The floor was crowded and in the low light, just a sea of heads could be defined. It would take a few seconds for Alex’s eyes to adjust from the relative brightness of the outside’s night sky to the darkness within. Most of the people stood close together, danced and swayed to the music. Near the front, several persons danced wildly and seemingly not in time to the music, but to a beat only they could hear. As Alex’s vision adjusted, nearly everyone had their hand wrapped around a drink of some kind or another. Toward the back of the room, the bar was busy tending to the thirsty.

Iain looked around and raised an eyebrow: "I thought this was a demon bar... Looks more like a takeaway for vampires to me."

He turned at Alex and added: "I think it'll be easier if we split up... I'll try the demons and the vampire groupies, you may want to talk to the humans. If you need help, just make someone scream." He winked and smiled.

Alex surveyed the room and sighed.  "Its either goth clubs or heavy metals clubs.  Why can't demons hang out in a nice karaoke bar or something?"  She shook her head, eyeing the writhing mass on the dancefloor.  Lord only knew what was lurking in there...  Speaking of which, she remembered Hornsby mentioning someone in particular.  "Didn't Hornsby say something about talking to the Remoras?"

Iain turned to her: "Well, I sorta assumed he meant metaphorical remoras - you know, people who live on the work of others. You think he was in fact being literal? Could be..." He looked around: "Do you see anyone with a fish head?"

Alex smiled and tilted her head to the side, rubbing her forehead just above her right eyebrow, looking quite embarrassed.  "No...  Nevermind, I'm being dense."  Shifting uncomfortably, she pointed to the dancefloor.  "I'll be in there."  She said before hot-footing it into the crowd.

Iain smiled back: "You look good when you're dense..."

He watched her leave, not quite sure she heard him, then turned around talking to himself: "Welcome to MacDonald's, is there someone special you'd like to eat?"

Scanning the crowd, he looked for the tell-tale signs of demons passing themselves as human and vice versa.

Shoving the eww-I-think-my-flesh-is-going-to-crawl-off-my-bones feeling to one side as the mass of dancers pressed in around her, Alex plastered a dopey-looking smile on her face and grabbed a dance partner.  Looping her arms around his neck, she danced with him for a short while before shooting him an apologetic smile and moving away, finding herself another partner.  This pattern repeated itself for a couple of songs; Alex moving through the crowd, looking like she was having a whale of a time dancing with anything she could lay her hands on.

From the front of the crowd, the band shifted from song to song. The young woman that was singing vocals thanked the crowd after one of their numbers.

“Thank you… You guys are way cool and we love you! Speaking of love, I just wanted to sing this next song for my boyfriend.” She pointed out a man with spiked hair tipped with blue dye, skull tattoos on his arms and his lip, eyebrow, and both ears pierced.

“This one is all for you, Spiky Mikey, and I mean it from the heart” she said as she grinned at the group and gave them the nod for the base beat to start. Rocking her head in time to the music, she turned and brought the mike to her mouth.

Nothing that you say will release you
Nothing that you pray would forgive you
Nothing's what your words mean to me
Something that you did will destroy me
Something that you said will stay with me
Long after you're dead and gone

If flesh could crawl
My skin would fall
From off my bones
And run away from here

A commotion began as the people next to the young man laughed, pointed and moved away from him. He looked wounded, then angry and moved forward to the stage. He reached up and tried to grab her off the stage, but the singer moved back and kept singing the forceful tone.

Nothing said could change the fact
My trust was blind
You broke the pact
If God's my witness, God must be blind

If flesh could crawl
My skin would fall
From off my bones
And run away from here

Mikey reached for her again, but she slipped off her shoe and used as a weapon to keep him from grabbing her. Not able to reach her, Mikey kicked off his sneaker and reared back to throw it at his now former girlfriend. Mikey never release the shoe as the two big bouncer guys from the front door tackled him and drove him to the ground.  Not missing a beat, she sang on.

Take it back, I dare you take it back
No you can't? You should have thought of that
What's inside a man
That goes so wrong

Choke on guilt, that's far too good for you
Say one word, I'll laugh and bury you
And leave you in the place
Where you left me

If flesh could crawl
My skin would fall
From off my bones
And run away from here

_{As Heaven Is Wide
by Garbage}

Mikey was dragged out of the club and the crowd exploded as the song ended.

Iain wasn't really listening to the band until Spikey Mikey tried to throw his (former) girlfriend off the stage, only to be promptly stopped by two large security guys.

Well, that was different. Iain thought with a half-smile. The girl looked like she could be more helpful than the zombies on the dancing floor, or at the very least more interesting.

Figuring the band would take a break after the big show, Iain looked around for a way to reach the backstage without having to walk on the unconscious body of the huge guy with the SECURITY T-shirt who was blocking the way.

Then he looked upwards, and saw the metallic frameworks used for lighting. "This might work..."

He visualized the scene in his mind, jumping from one structure to the next, finding the only uncertainty in whether the last jump would offer a way to get behind the stage without anyone noticing. "No way to find out but try, I guess..."

“You ROCK!” the singer shouted as she raised her fist into the air. “ That felt Wonderful! But, we need to take a short break here. Don’t go away. Visit Manny at the bar and get a cold one. We will be back in 20 minutes.”

The group disconnected from amp wires and waved to the crowd amongst cheers and applause. They disappeared behind the back stage curtain as taped music played. Several people started to move toward the bar, but most of the crowd just started dancing and talking about what just happened.

Iain had just spotted a place that looked perfect for his plan when the singer announced they were going to take a break: I guess that's my cue...

With an inhumanly high leap, Iain grabbed ahold of the two parallel bars that were the frame of the structure holding the lights. He stood still for an instant, hanging from the ceiling, looking down at the floor to make sure nobody had noticed his stunt; then, with preternatural grace, he swung with his whole body on his left side, changing his grip to second the movement as he went.

For an instant, he stood in the exact same position he was in just a moment before: standing perfectly still, body and arms fully distended, holding with both hands to the metal... Only, he now was upside down, and facing the other way.

Then, before his coat could start obeying gravity again, he brought his knees close to his chest and let his body follow the movement, ending up with both feet on the framework, just behind his hands.

A moment later, Iain let go of the bars and silently proceeded toward the backstage. As he reached his destination, he just stepped forward, landing some 15 feet below in a dark corner just behind the stage.

A wandering thought caught his attention: it had kinda been bothering him the way, in the past few months, he had found himself more and more at ease with the powers his undead condition provided.

Living creatures were not supposed to come back from death, it was against the laws of nature... And yet, he had to admit that being a vampire had some up sides.

Well, introspection would have to wait: the band was only on break for twenty minutes, after all.

He got past the mountain of wires, connected to several things with purposes he knew absolutely nothing about, and proceeded in the narrow hallway behind the stage, looking for the lead singer. Of the five doors in the hall, four were closed; the other one, the first on the right, opened on a little lounge with a couch, bean bag chair and a long folding table.

In the hope to get into the singer's graces with the oldest trick in the world - offering her food - Iain grabbed a few snacks from the table; noticing a cooler under it, with some drinks inside, he grabbed two cokes as well.

Now the only problem was to find the girl.

From the second door on the right, he could clearly hear the voices of the male members of the band: assuming that men and women had separate dressing rooms, he turned his attention to the remaining three doors.

He sniffed the air outside the first door on the left.

Green apple shampoo.

With a slight smile, Iain knocked gently on the door.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:01, Sun 27 Mar 2005.

The man Alex had been dancing with last smiled at Alex. He had seemed quite surprised as the young, beautiful girl whisked in front of him from nowhere and began dancing with him. The guy was not great looking, but not really bad looking either. He has a bit of a sharp nose and small beady looking eyes, a full head of hair, but feathered in the style of the Bee Gees, circa 1980. He looked like he worked out and was dressed like the rest of the crowd in a black shirt with the Anarchy symbol on it, black pants with a couple of steel chains adorning it. He appears to be Hispanic, possibly Mexican, and the natural darkness of his skin was in contrast to the bulk of the club patron’s pale skin tones.

Since she had had her hands all over him, he boldly grasped her shoulders and hugged her close to speak in her ear.

“Man, I dig those rhythmy Blues. Getting dumped like that in a song in front of a crowd.  Priceless!” With a glint in his eye, he seemed to review the scene again in his mind.

“Did you see the way they both kicked off their shoes? I thought she was really gonna nail him with that heel of hers.” He brushed back his hair to keep it in place, as if it had a chance to move, but the hair spray had hardened into a virtual shell, keeping every strand in place.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:59, Sun 27 Mar 2005.

With a few snack bars in one hand and a couple of cokes in the other, Iain stood in front of the door, waiting for several seconds for the singer to respond.

Eventually, he realized that he had knocked too lightly and she probably hadn't heard him, and tried again, this time more firmly.

“Just a second…” The door swung open and the group’s singer stood in the opening. She had her head cocked to one side as she was removing an earplug, its mate already in her cupped hand.

“Oh, Hi there. Not who I was expecting. You want an autograph? Got a pen? Never mind, I have one right here.” She set the earplugs on the small round end table near the door and picked up a black Sharpie marker.

“Did you want me to sign your food or did you think you would have to wait in line first?” she asked while a cute smirk played on her lips.

Iain chuckled: "Actually, they are for you." He gave her his best smile: "I thought you could use'em after your... Steaming performance."

The young lady looked amused. “Well, um Thanks!” She accepted the gifts of food from Iain and put them on the table. “I still have a set to do and I want to keep my throat clear, but… Thanks” She grabbed a brush off the dressing table and started to brush her hair back into form.
“If you like the show, she called over her shoulder, “we are selling our CD over by the door. It would be great if you bought one and then, if you want, I could sign it for you.”

Looking into the big mirror lined with lights, she set about to freshening up her makeup. She stopped suddenly and began to stare intently into the mirror as if she was looking closely at something.

How had Sesame Street phrased it?  Ah, yes...  Y is for Yuck!  Not that she let that show on her face.  No, instead she painted a broad grin on her face and giggled.  "I would love a drink."  She replied, before flouncing off towards the bar, hoping he was buying the my-IQ-is-less-than-a-pea act.

Quickly following Alex, the man caught up with her and threw his arm over her shoulders and hugged her in close with the one arm. Guiding her to the bar, he got the bartender’s attention.

“A Zombie for the lady and I’ll have a Bud on draft.” he ordered.

Trying to stay out of the mirror's reflection, Iain replied: "Thanks, I'd like that... Will I still find you here after the show?"

The singer looked intently at the mirror and then began poking her cheeks just below her eyes. _{“These late nights are catching up with you girl”} she said to herself.

Turning to look at Iain in the doorframe she said, “Yeah I will be here. I have to help pack up. No roadies for us yet, but some day there will be. If you could be a doll and close the door behind you as you leave. I have to finish getting ready for the next set. Thanks again for the snacks.” She turned to the huge mirror and reached for some lip gloss.

Handing Alex her Zombie, he sipped his beer. Leaning in he said, “If I told you ya had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?” he said with a wink and a twitch of his eyebrows.    “Don’t think I have seen you in here before. I would have remembered the likes of you. And I likes you.”

He fanned his face with one hand like he was hot and mouthed the word “Smokin’” while he looked Alex up and down.

What’s your name and do you want to blow this place and hook up?”

"Sure... Later, then." Iain closed the door, and shook his head: Yep, that went well... Maybe the next time we should try picking some place without the family-size vampire detector. Might help.

He went back to the area of the club open to the public the same way he had come, and actually bought a copy of the CD, so that he would have a second chance with the singer. Maybe take two will go better...

Slipping the CD in one of his coat's pockets, Iain dropped by the bar, and noticed Alex talking to some guy who was either Forrest Gump's second cousin or a vampire who still hadn't realized his early-80's look had been out for about two decades.

Moderately amused, he watched as Alex gave him her best "I may look brunette but I'm very very blonde" act, trying to figure out whether she needed a stake of just a huge stick.

Oh.  My.  God.  Alex giggled while trying to stop her fight-or-flight mechanism from arguing over whether to beat the guy with a big stick or run screaming from the building.  The former was winning out, but it wasn't really going to help them much.  He had so better know something.

Holding the drink, but avoiding actually consuming any of it, she pouted at his last question.  "Leave?  But I only just got here...  I wanna dance some more first.  Oh...  And my name's Alexis, what's yours?"
This message was last edited by the player at 19:26, Tue 05 Apr 2005.

“Enrique Gonzolez, but all my friends call me “Gonzo”. So, call me Gonzo, my Sweet Alexis.” Gonzo replied. He took Alex’s hand by her bent fingers and raised it to his lips. He placed a gentle kiss upon the back of her hand. Then with a quick flick with the tip of the tounge, he licked the center of the spot he had just kissed. Winking at her slyly, he let her hand go.

“Dancing is such a thirsty activity, so drink up and we will dance the night away, My Sweet. Then if you play your cards right, I will sweep you away to heights of passion that you may never come back down from.”  He guided her away from the bar.

“Shall we move to the quiet of the back room so that we may speak the language of love while our band is on a break? You will be more comfortable there while you toss back your drink. Then we shall dance some more.”
This message was last updated by the GM at 22:19, Sun 03 Apr 2005.

Alex smiled wickedly and gave Gonzo a playful nudge on the shoulder.  She couldn't help but feel that the fact he shared a name with a muppet was somehow appropriate.  Leaning forward, she lowered her voice and murmured into his ear. "And will there be anyone else in this back room?"

"No, My Sweet. It will just be you and me." Gonzo smiled as he looked deeply into Alex's eyes. "It would not matter if it were a crowded room, for I would only have eyes for you. C'mon."

Taking a big swallow of his beer, he grabbed Alex's and led the way toward the back rooms practically dragging her with him.
This message was last updated by the GM at 21:17, Tue 05 Apr 2005.

Iain looked at the man pull Alex in the back of the club and smiled: There we go... Guy's in for a world of trouble.

He began following the two discreetly, planning to wait outside to see whether Alex would need a hand.

Be still my heart...  Alex rolled her eyes as Gonzo yanked her hand and pulled her towards the back room.  Catching Iain out of the corner of her eye, she grinned at him, glad to see that he was moving to follow her and the ickyness that was Gonzo.  But how to bring up the topic of conversation she wanted..?

“Here we are My Sweet.” Gonzo quickly slipped a key card through a slot and a little green light flickered. His hand continued in a smooth motion that ended in a quick twist of the handle. It was very quickly done and to the unobservent, they would not have noticed in the darkened corner. Pushing the door open, Gonzo ushered Alex in, his hand lightly tapping her tush as she crossed the threshold.

Alex entered a small room with dark purple colored shag carpeting adorning the walls like hairy wallpaper. Low lighting dimly illumnated the room that was appointed with a brown Futon couch, an easy chair, thick pile cream colored carpeting, and a couple of wood end tables. Oddly, four iron rings, about 4 inches in diameter were mounted on one wall like the four corners of a large square. The sounds of the club muffled almost completely as the door closed, but soft music eminated from some hidden speakers.

“Welcome to my little “Fortress of Solitude” My Sweet. I have had a special relationship with the club for a while and they grant me this little play room in return. Please, sit down, enjoy your drink and then we can really get this party started. He smiled wickly at Alex as he closed the door.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:05, Fri 08 Apr 2005.

You've got to be kidding me...

So, apparently Gonzo had a secret lair inside the club. And not a bad one, either: even with his vampire senses, he could barely hear them talk through the door,  and the electronic lock seemed quite hard to pick - at least without the appropriate tools, which he usually didn't carry around.

Casually leaning against the wall, he concentrated to listen to what was happening inside.

"Special relationship?"  Alex enquired innocently, taking a deliberatly slow tour of the room, running her hands along the furniture.  It was likely that she could floor the weasel, should things come to that, but she wasn't comfortable with the fact there was a key-carded door between her and the exit.  At least if things went horribly wrong, chances were that Iain would be able to get in...  Provided he was waiting outside.  Hoping a vampire is there to back you up.  Hardly how you expected things to turn out, huh, Alex?

Gonzo started swinging and swaying his hips, moving his arms in short motions as he danced to the music. Lets just say that I keep in touch with “certain circles” and keep the club out of trouble. In return, the turn a blind eye to what goes on in here. Which is a good thing.”

Gonzo moved in close to Alex, seemingly intent on nuzzling her neck. “If word got out, or they were to film the activities in this room, I would have chickadees like you beating down my door.” Gonzo blew his warm breath at Alex’s ear with a Huuuuuuh sound as he exhaled.

“I would not get any sleep then, not to mention my “contacts” would shy away. They are the type that likes to work in the shadows. Know what I mean? Dangerous men and I dance around them like I dance around you.”

To make his point, he slid around Alex with his hand on her waist and moved in to blow into her other ear.

Alex smiled wickedly at Gonzo, turning to face him as he slipped his hand onto her waist.  She placed one finger on his shoulder, running it across the top of his chest, then down along the length of his free arm.

"I know exactly what you mean..."  She murmured, looking slyly up at him through her eyelashes.  With a glint in her eye, she lifted her face toward his, stopping a hair's breath away while her fingers curled around his wrist.  Holding his gaze for a moment, she then leant forward to whisper in his ear.  "And you're about to wish I didn't."

In one swift, smooth manoeuvre she pulled back her other hand and hit him hard in the shoulder, wrenching his wrist behind him at the same time.  The unfortunate Gonzo was sent into a spin that resulted with him being caught in what was surely a very painful arm lock seconds before he was slammed into the wall.  "Move and I'll break it.  Now, my dear, sweet Gonzo, you are going to tell me exactly what I want to know..."  Alex added a little pressure onto his pinned arm, tweaking it for emphasis.  "...Or I will make sure your door will be broken down by chikadees just like me.  Are we clear?"

“Ow ow OOOWW! So, you like it rough eh? Well, Gonzo can play that way too.”

The skin in Alex’s grasp undulated slightly and became rather hairy. Gonzo’s face also transformed. The longish nose became longer and more pointed, his eyes, beady as they were became smaller, dark marbles and his 5 o’clock shadow crawled all over his face. Whiskers now adorned his nose where a set of sharp looking pointed teeth showed from his parted lips as his face was pressed against the wall. He now had distinctly rodent looking features.

“Are you ready to play my game now, My Sweet?” Gonzo asked.
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:19, Mon 11 Apr 2005.

Alex huffed with irritation as Gonzo began to change, tightening her grip on his arm in case whatever he was going to turn into was smaller.  Hers was not a look of horror or surprise, more resigned annoyance.  "Yeah, you're a little rat-man demon.  Forgive me for not letting you go in sheer surprise, but I'd have to be, you know, surprised for that to happen."  She shifted her stance slightly in attempt to make any escape attempt more difficult, or at the least, more painful.

"Anyway, where were we?  Oh, yes.  You were about to tell me what I wanted to know, before I get tired of asking nicely and start chopping important bits off you."

Gonzo struggled against the Amazonian grip, but truth be told, he was pinned.

“Ow owwww OOWWWW!!”
The last yowl was more a high-pitched screech, not unlike a girl. “Sheese, that usually is all I have to do and you guys cower nicely for me.

He tried to nip at her arm, but could not get his teeth to bare. Relaxing, he went slack against the grip in defeat.

“Ok, ok, you have made your point. Who are you? Who sent you and what do you want? Ehhh! My arm! Can I have it back or are you trying to take it with you?”
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:19, Mon 11 Apr 2005.

Alex relaxed the pressure on Gonzo's arm so that his girlish shrieking stopped, but for the time being elected to keep him pinned.  "I think I like your arm here for now.  As for who I am, I've already told you.  I sent me and what I want is information.  Specifically regarding the barges running aground in the Mississippi when the charts and eyes say there should be plenty of water abound."

Hearing what sounded definitely like a girl's scream, Iain grabbed the door's handle and shook it hard, to no avail, for several second.

Finally, giving up subtlety in favor of effectiveness, he took a step back and kicked it open.

And found Alex with a wererat pinned to the wall.

With a rather puzzled look on his face, he could only ask: "Wh- Where's the girl?"

Then he realized.

"Oh..."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:08, Mon 11 Apr 2005.

“Barges? Mississippi? I don’t know what you are t… unless….”

There was a wood splintering CRASH as Iain kicked the door open.

Hijo de Puta! Santa Maria, save me! Hey you! Get in here and get this Mujer de la Bestia off of me!” He painfully tried to twist around to see who had just come a knocking on his door without much luck.

"Um... Yeah... Sorry about the door." After giving a quick look outside, he closed the door again and leant against it to keep it closed.

Alex's gaze had shot over to the door when it came flying over and she couldn't really decide if she was relieved or annoyed to see Iain rush through it.  Either way, she shot him a quick grin and returned her attention to Gonzo.  Realising that the squirming rat-man couldn't actually see who had just come in, she smiled wickledly as an idea popped into her head.

"Some demons, huh, Gonzo?  You just can't teach them to knock like everyone else.  You wouldn't believe how many doors I've gone though with Mr. Ham-fisted over there."  She sighed with irritation before continuing.  "Well, I suppose its progress - he used to walk straight through them.  And let's face it, not many people will argue when you have a demon-mountain by your side."

"But anyway...  I heard a distinct 'unless...' before you made your rather pathetic plea for help.  So, please, do continue."
This message was last edited by the player at 11:24, Thu 14 Apr 2005.

“Oh mi Dios! Who are you guys? Who sent you? I … I don’t know anything, EHHHH! Ok ok. I heard something, on the streets. This guy I know said that there was big money in this deal with water. I don’t know details, but give me 24 hours and I may be able to come up with some.” Gonzo was panting and sweating, making his fur-hair slick. He was becoming harder to have a firm grip on.

“So let me go, okay? And I will get your info. That is what I do. And keep your pork boy fists at bay, will ya? I can’t talk to my people with a fat lip. It might scare them and they would clam up.”
This message was last updated by the GM at 21:51, Thu 14 Apr 2005.

Alec grinned as Gonzo finally gave in to her not-so-subtle pressuring.  Looking at Iain, she nodded towards the door.  "I'll meet you outside.  And try not to cause too much trouble on your way out."

Once Iain had made his exit, she turned back to Gonzo and released him, wiping her hands off on the back of his shirt.  "Twenty-four hours it is then.  And don't even think of trying to pull any funny stuff or a fat lip will be the least of your worries."

With a brilliant smile, she patted him on the shoulder.  "See you tomorrow, Gonzo."  Alex then turned and made her way out of the club, practically gulping in the fresh air once she was away from the exit.

"Nice job in there. Oh, and, sorry about crashing your party, but... Well, did any one ever tell you, when you torture a guy, you really make him cry like a ten year old girl?" He smiled apologetically.

_{19th Oct Tuesday morning, just after midnight.}

As Alex and Iain emerged from the backroom, the crowd cheered. The band, Jagged Rain was just coming back to take the stage. The mass of people moved as one toward the stage, leaving room toward the bar and the back of the club open, making easy access to the exit.

Alex and Iain headed for the door and a bit of fresh air.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:32, Mon 18 Apr 2005.

Dren lowered the now half empty glass of ale from his lips and shook his head in defeat ”I mean she’s more like m’best friend… Actually, she is m’best friend. I canna go t’movie without ‘er. We’ve ne’er missed an episode o’Rescue Me and we both love Highlander… Dinna that 5th movie come out yet?” when it was clear that his drinking partner hadn’t a clue he returned to his drink, sans the partner.

When Brandy had first met the Irishman he was dark, bold, and alluring. He carried himself with an arrogance and a confidence that conjured images of this wild animal on a hunt and hungry to sink it’s teeth into warm flesh that fell beneath it, a victim to the chase! And when he’d called and asked her to meet him for drinks she’d thought the hunt was on, and the chase had begun. But now, as she sat next to him at the bar, all she could see was the broken and empty shell of a man who was going through lagers like one of the many frat boys she’d endured the weekend with. Still, he was easy on the eyes and had that sexy accent, even if she only understood every other word at best. “You know what you need? A nice and relaxing massage and bubble bath… maybe both at the same time.”

Dren slammed the drained mug on the bar and shook his head ”What I need is t'get ‘er out o'm’mind. I mean, take you fer example.”

“Oh, yes! Please take me!”

”I look at you and I see… a nice waist, long legs, and a low cut blouse.”

“And what about these?” she asked as Brandy leaned forward, hugging her arms in close, accentuating her ample bosom.

”Yeah, they're not bad either.” Dren placed his smoking clove in his mouth and refilled his glass before waving the barkeep over for another pitcher, with an exhale he put the clove down and continued ”But y’know what I’m thinkin’? You’re ‘air isn’t as dark as Raven’s. ‘er leggs are more toned from climbin’ ruins fer years an' your breasts are… an’ I ‘ate t’say this, I really do… your breasts are too big.” Dren paused for a drag from his clove and then added ”She’s b’come m’ideal woman t’which all are compared… It’s tragic.”

”Too big? But I paid good money for these.” Brandy tried to salvage some of her dignity in the most unusual fashion, “I bet she doesn’t have a mouth like mine!” she said seductively licking the right corner of her crimson lips.

Dren nodded in agreement as he set his drink back drown ”That’s true… very true. Everythin’ she says ‘as meaning an’a purpose. She’ll use words I ‘ave t’actually take time t’understand.”

“Gee… what’s that like?”

Ignoring her Dren continued ”She actually makes me want t’be smarter. She’s th’only reason I train anymore. If t'weren’t fer ‘er, an’m’wantin’ t’not let ‘er down. I’d jus' drink m’self inna oblivion an’ pray I was sober enough t’shoot straight when th’time comes.”

“Speaking of which-“

”No good.” Dren stood up and threw some money down on the bar to cover drinks and tip ”I realize yer what’s wrong wit' m’life. I’ve been chasin’ quantity instead o’quality. Raven m'not be th’girl fer me. And I’m willin’ t'accept tha’.” folding the rest of the cash up he stuffed it in his pocket.

“You have SOOO lost your mind.”

”Perhaps. But sleepin' wit' ya won’t make m'feel better about who I am. I realize that now.”

“It would make me feel better about who you are.”

Dren put out his clove and leaned against the bar ”Brandy, yer a pretty girl with a sharp wit an’ a winnin’ smile. Y’dinna need t’sleep around jus' t’get people t’like ya. Soon yer gonna wake up, b'29 years old an’ watchin’ th’love o’yer life slip through yer fingers.”

”So now you’re the Ghost of Christmas Future?”

Dren laughed ”There may b’ ‘ope fer you yet! And, fer what it’s worth, I was plannin’ on havin’ y’over fer breakfast just t’see if she’d be jealous. But if I’m gonna t’get over ‘er… then it shouldn’t matter, so I’d just be usin’ you.”

“I don’t care! You’re just bragging rights anyway!”

”Oh, sure! Because it’s fun for now, but when y’ready t’grow up.” handing her a business card he shrugged ”Call me. If I ‘aven’t found Th’One by then, maybe we can try dancin’ t’a new song.” leaning over he kissed her on the cheek and headed off shouting ”Peter Pan ‘as left th’building!” oddly enough people cheered in response… and then he was gone.

"I think even ten year old girls can muster more dignity than that."  Alex replied, wiping her hands on her trousers, nose wrinkled in disgust.  "I don't know if you're finished for the night, but I really need to head back.  I have an appointment with my shower, some bleach and a brillo pad."

Iain chuckled: "Yes, I imagine you would... Just remember, the first two layers of skin are enough: there's no real need to get to the bone." He smiled at her, then continued: "Listen, I still have to see a person before I call it a night, catch you in an hour or so?"

Alex looked as though she was about to nod, then did a quick survey of the surroundings and sighed.  "I think it will take an hour or so for a taxi to roll up to this dump."  She casually gestured back into the club.  "The band was fairly good, so I'll wait for you on the dancefloor, minus the eighties throwback ratboy this time."

"In that case, why don't we put that dance floor to good use?" He smiled.

Alex gave Iain a sideways glance as she considered the invitation, then grinned.  "Sure, why not?"  She replied with a one-shouldered shrug.  As they re-entered the club, she leant toward him so that he could hear her over the music.  "So, have you had as much fun as I have so far?"

He bent slightly to the side so his head would be closer to hers: "Well, aside from the rat-boy parenthesis, my evening has actually been pretty good. I gotta tell you, though: for an underground night club, this place doesn't meet its quota of creature-of-the-night groupies."

"How tragic!"  Alex looked amused as she found them a place on the dancefloor, starting to move to the beat.  She was determined to have herself some fun after the meeting with Gonzo and since dancing was one of her favourite pastimes it seemed possible, even in a place like this.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:59, Tue 26 Apr 2005.

_{19 Oct 2004, Tuesday morning}


The dawn broke over St Louis. Quietly, the tendrils of light stretched the morning shadows as they filtered through the many trees on the estate. The sounds of geese and ducks could be heard from the lake across the lawn wet with dew. Birds were gathering for their annual migration to warmer, southern climates. The park-like grounds of the estate were a natural rest stop for the feathered creatures as they prepared for the next leg of their journey.

0800 sharp, everyone’s alarm clock sounded in unison. Some were set to music while others blared loudly the electronic klaxon of BEEP, BEEP, BEEP… with simulated urgency.

Dren awoke to the sentation of a spinned demon tap dancing to in his skull. Opening his eyes he risked letting light stab throug his skull for no reason than to throw a challenging sneer at the demons electric summoner.
8:00
Dren sat up dispite the sharp pain in his side, "Y'got t'be kiddin' me." he reached over and flipped the switch on the clock that turned it from alarm to CD... the vocals of Amy Lee floated from the clock as they were supposed to have, had someone not been nice enough to set his alarm for him.

Rubbing his side again he reminded himself to not go so hard on B.O.B. before reaching over and taking up his lighter. As he sat there, naked, on the edge of his bed, he took in the sweetly heavy smoke that relaxed his fingers to thier very tip within a few deep breaths. As the tension float with each exhale the memories started to come back in reverse, like a movie playing backward and in high speed. He remebered leaving passing out in his bed, and drinking a great deal before that but time was a blur. He had to assume it was at least 2 hours after leaving the bar. He remebered leave there right after midnight when he told Brandy goodbye.

Ah, yes... Brandy. Right girl and the wrong time... or wrong girl at the right time. Ethier way she had at leats one custom kit added to that chassie of hers and his guess would be it didn't stop there. She was about as natural as cultured gem stones - shure they look great, but no matter how you cut it, it's still wasn't made by God's hand.

Getting up Dren collected the bathrobe that lay on the floor next to his bed thinking old habits died hard. He remebered when Raven had bought him that robe the first time they were forced to share a hotel together. But now the memroy seemed almost too long ago to even keep anymore and Dren wondered why he still did. Since overhearing that conversation between Raven and Iona, and since turning down a the aggressive advances of a hot vibrant sorority girl, Dren had sobered up to wonder if he could even love Raven the way she needed to be... or rather the way she deserved to be.

The hour came and Iain woke up at the sound of... Celine Dion? What the-

He stood up, opened the CD player and stared at the CD: a copy of Let's Talk About Love stared back at him.

"Okay, what happened to my Jim Morrison? Much as I liked Titanic - which is to say, not a lot - My Heart Will Go On is not exactly what I had in mind start the day."

Apparently, the practical jokester was not around to enjoy the fruits of his work, 'cause no answer came.

Shaking his head, he went for the bathroom door. He took a quick shower, then he left his room and looked out through the porch's glass door, still amazed by the fact that he could stand in direct sunlight without even a sunburn.

Alex swanned in from the bathroom at much the same time her alarm clock began to shriek at the top of its electronic lungs.  Throwning the clock a curious glance she walked over and switched it off, not remembering having set it the previous night.  With a shrug, she set about getting ready for the day ahead, pulling on a pair of boot-cut blue jeans and a plain white shirt.

Dressed and ready, she strolled out of her room and walked downstairs to the kitchen, pausing on the landing to smile slightly upon seeing Iain staring out at the daylight in wonder. Once in the kitchen she made herself a simple breakfast and sat down to eat it, a pot of breakfast tea on the brew.

   He walked briskly through the sunshine, on the narrow bridge leading across the water, far towards where its outline merged with that of the river. As he moved, his uneasiness grew, and he threw yet more hurried glances towards the fading landmass he had once left. A ha- something observed him, closed in, yet wherever he turned in intensifying panic, he could see but the endless wastes of water. Struck by terror, he started running, but nothing but the yet more endless ocean revealed itself in front of him, as he could no longer see the land behind him. A thunderous roar surged, and as the beat of his heart shifted gears, the bridge shook visibly, swaying as evergrowing tides of water consumed the bridge. His head ached with pain as blood pulsed through it. He spun around, panic grasping his mind, he a mere spectator. He tried to run back, to the safety he had once left, but the now risen masses of chilling water enveloped him to the waist, making his every step an exhausting undertaking, his headache growing yet stronger. He gasped desperately for air, but as the water rose - or was it the bridge sinking? - he was powerless to move, and could but gulp water as it froze to ice around him. The pain struck him in waves now, and from them emerged a loudly beeping noise.

   He lay still in bed for a few moments, as the boundaries between dream and reality faded, only the headache carrying over. Moist sheets clung to his back as he clutched his head in both hands, gathering the will to get up. He searched through the table by his bed, switching the alarm clock off before he could find the tiny, white box. He gulped down a few of them, then another - he didn't know how many, but the box was soon empty, the pain fading back into a corner of his mind, everlurking. He gave himself a reassuring smile in the mirror, and soon set off to find Raven.

Dressed in his usual dark attire, Iain walked into the kitchen and smiled at Alex: "Morning... You wouldn't happen to know anything about a Celine Dion CD, would you?" He shook hid head: "Nevermind."

He opened the small refrigerator that contained the house's blood supply and looked inside: "By the way, I didn't get a chance to tell you about the disconcerting discovery I made yesterday night: you'll never believe this..."

A small, dark bottle in his hand, he turned to look at her: "Apparently, every once in a while Gonzo actually manages to hook up with girls."

Alex poured herself a cup of tea, smiling slightly as she shook her head.  "Well, there's no accounting for taste...  Though quite what kind of woman gets a thrill out of being tied up to bondage-boy's wall, I don't know."  She stopped pouring and wrinkled her nose as the image flashed through her mind, setting the teapot down.

"Great.  Now I need a scouring pad for the inside of my head."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:00, Tue 26 Apr 2005.

Raven’s CD/Alarm clock kicked on at 8 am playing Here Comes the Sun by the Beatles, but she wasn’t in her bedroom. She had already showered, dressed, grabbed a quick breakfast, and made her way to the library long before the alarm went off. She was working in the small storage room behind the library, straightening it up, sorting some of the books, and clearing some shelf space. The scent of her Yemen Mocha coffee drifted through the small room from her tall mug on the desk. While she worked, Mozart could be heard playing on the room’s sound system.

Pieran shuffled into the kitchen, finding Iain and Alexis present. He held his alarm clock by its cord like a dead rat by its tail. “Good morning,” he said, none too cheerily. “It took a licking but kept on ticking. Someone’s sense of humor must come from Tartares.” He carried the clock to the nearest trash basket and with a well-placed aim dropped the noisome nuisance inside it. “Apparently that someone didn’t get my last message about leaving clocks in my room.”

He turned back to the others and forged a genuinely happy smile onto his pained pallor. “It’s good to see your faces again,” he said. “What progress are you making…” He halted, wincing and as quickly, suppressing the discomfort with a poorly hidden groan. “…are you making on your mission? I wish I could help.”

Alex looked up and smiled when Pieran made his entrance, pleased to see him out of his room, even if he was his usual morning self.  She wasn't one to coddle someone who was injured, knowing how much she hated it herself, but still she had to restrain herself from jumping out of her chair to fuss over him.  Instead she gestured to the teapot, adopting a conversational tone.  "Morning.  Its freshly brewed, if you fancy a cup."  For a few moments, she wondered if she sounded cold, responding like that to a man so obviously injured and in pain.  That thought promptly led to her wondering why she was even worried about what she might sound like to the two people in the room.

Anyways, Pieran had asked a question.  Taking a sip from her own mug, she started to answer it.  "I don't know what Johnny and Iona found out, but the results of our own little expedition should become clear tonight.  We met a contact in that club Hornsby recommended, who should have something for us when we meet up with him later."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 11:18, Wed 27 Apr 2005.

Iain pulled out a chair and sat down, keeping an eye on Pieran in case he needed help, but with a casual attitude.

"He has a crush on Alex, too..." He grinned: "Well, that was before she made him cry like a baby, but he seems to have a passion for bondage and stuff, so probably she looks even hotter to him right now." He chuckled.

"He also said something about his friends which I was able to verify: he periodically meets with guys with an affection for long coats, which means they either have a keen fashion sense, or they are trying to hide something."

Dren walked in to the kitchen, long dark workout pants and a celtic cross on a chain seemed to be the only things he had bothered to put on as he headed past Pieran and to the fridge where he grabbed a V8, "I 'eard, Alex, Bondage, Friends an' Long coats hidin' somethin'." turning around he shook his head "Wit' you two in th'room. I don't even want t'know." with that he head right back out.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:54, Wed 27 Apr 2005.

Without a word, Alex placed her cup down, leant her elbows on the table and cradled her face in her hands.



A muffled groan of despair managed to sneak its way out from the mass of hair spilling over her cradled face.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:58, Wed 27 Apr 2005.

Iain smiled to Pieran: "Well, I managed to turn Alex's reputation from Potential Slayer to Potential Porn Star, not to mention provide her with a few interesting images that will probably require several years of therapy... And all before breakfast."

He finally took a sip from his bottle: "So, anything I can do for you?"

WOW. So that’s what they meant by “double-whammy.” There was Dren’s welcome but short-lived appearance, complete with social commentary, and there was Iain’s character assassination of Alexis woefully burying her impossibly beautiful features behind a wall of hair and hands. Pieran, his mouth still agape from the shock of falling so suddenly into the maelstrom, caught himself unconsciously scratching his good arm as if from some hidden rash.



Pieran stopped scratching but couldn’t seem to close his yawning trap, too stunned to correct himself. His eyes blinked rapidly: three times…two times…two more times…until the room took on the quality of a very old movie, something they once called a Kinetograph. The jarring unreality of the juxtaposed images –Dren’s hunched shoulders walking away from the door, Alex buried behind her wall of hair and hands, Iain self-satisfactorily sipping from his bottle of color- brought him back to his senses, addled though they were.



He paused. “I have many spirits within me and they each have a unique voice. Yet to my astonishment I did not know –until now- that Geena Davis was among them. That is not a bad thing if you ever saw Earth Girls Are Easy. But right now it is her admonition that most echoes in the chambers of my heart, ‘Be afraid, be very afraid.’ And so while I am….moved by your generosity, I am foresworn to my council and must therefore, decline your gracious offer.”

Pieran smiled apologetically before helping himself to the tea indicated earlier. It would go good with…

“Well, there is one question, Iain,” he said, suddenly turning with his idea. “I don’t know quite how to put it but…Alexis’ new friend cannot be faulted for taste for I, too, have a crush on our Potential Porn Star, er, uhm…..Slayer. Yeah. Yet the images of bondage never entered my mind until just now and I find it devilishly hard to rid myself of them. Should I try harder or are there just some things that shouldn’t be….fixed?” And were any pictures taken? Of the part where she made him cry like a baby: Of course, that’s what I meant!”

He winked at Iain but his wry smile never left the pile of hair eclipsing the young woman seated before him, whom he teased and loved all at once.

"Unfortunately, I didn't think about using my cell phone's camera, but I believe I can draw a decent representation of the struggle."

Iain leaned forward and peeked at Alex: "And if you pose for me, I'll let you choose the dramatization. I was thinking about a fiery sword and a golden halo - but I could also go with the leather minidress and the cat of nine tails... Your call, really."

He paused for an instant, then chuckled: "Nah, I'm kidding... I do draw, however; in fact, I've made several drawings depicting our recent adventures, sort of a visual diary. I think what happened with Gonzo will end up being part of it. Just, without the whip and the leather dress."
This message was last edited by the player at 11:36, Thu 28 Apr 2005.

While Pieran spoke, Alex woefully shook her head back and forth, still covering her face with her hands.  Iain's talk of leather mini-dresses and whips finally pushed to uncover her hands and she sat back in the chair, pouting at the pair.

"You are both very bad men.  And you should remember that what goes around, comes around."  She waggled a reproving finger at them both, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.  "I will have my revenge."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:38, Thu 28 Apr 2005.

"Well, if that wasn't the cutest curse I've ever seen..." Iain smiled.

"Still, who should you make fun of, if not the people you love, right, Pieran?"

Pieran was adrift in a daydream while Iain spoke. “Excuse me? Oh. Sorry. I was lost imagining Alexis, Geena Davis, and a secret basement lair below a seedy dive downtown. That’s a film I’d watch.”

Whether owed to another wave of pain or to the stumbling fall of his inner Zeitgeist he kept his pause mostly disguised. “Did you say cell phones have cameras??” Definitely his Zeitgeist. “So this really is the world’s ending.

“Personally,” he went on, scraping some jam onto a slice of bread, “I would describe her curse as beguiling. Still, you’re quite right, Iain, about teasing those we love. Love’s had an adversarial quality going back as far as I can remember. They say we only hurt the ones we love. Fascinating,” he added, munching down his raw toast. “If that’s true,” he said, washing the bread down with tea, “then I’d say there’s so much love in this house we’re close to bashing each others’ brains out.” His tone turned from mirthful to philosophical. “Poor Johnny must adore me. What terrible karma he must possess to have been afflicted with one the likes of Pieran Swift.

“But no matter,” he brightened. “Revenge is assuredly a woman’s right,” he said with cheer. “If I had a dime for every woman who found her revenge upon me! But I’m shocked, Alexis -shocked I say- that you would swoop below dignity to swear revenge upon faded men with gentle, albeit, illicit attractions.” He shot her a mischievous smile and lifted his cup in salutation. “To that day.”

His grimace then was not the presence of a spirit out of step with time but with a shoulder pinned between a hammer and an anvil and it dizzied him a moment. “Sorry, but this…condition…is growing past what a man can bear…which I guess is the point of it. But there is no shame in that so long as my hair stays pretty,” he quipped, forcing a smile into place. “So if you will forgive me I should repair to my room before Mr. Hope claps me in restraints. See? There it is again: bondage. Incredible.”

He said his farewells and made his way slowly from the kitchen, pausing part way beyond the door. “Oh Iain, I am also keeping a journal of our adventures but mechanical line drawings are the best I can muster. I would be very delighted to see your drawings; perhaps our work could marry. Would you show them to me sometime?”

His eyes passed once more to Alexis and he spoke in half whisper, “Fair Helen, make me immortal with a kiss. Good luck tonight.

“As for you, young man,” he concluded, eyeing Iain directly, “do not dally long within this maiden’s countenance. You of all people should know the risks of too much sun exposure.”

He nodded with his characteristic salaam and turned, making preparation to exit.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:22, Fri 29 Apr 2005.

"Indeed..." He took another sip from his bottle to mask his wide grin.



Still smiling, forcibly as it was, Iain nodded: "Sure, absolutely... Just come by whenever you feel like it."

He waited for Pieran to leave the room, and a few more seconds for him to get out of ear range, then turned to Alex with a grave look: "He certainly has a way with words, doesn't he?"

He sighed deeply: "Do you have any idea how we can help fix this? 'Cause I'm drawing a blank..."

Alex rolled her eyes and shook her head, smiling.



Her smile faded a little at the show of Pieran's discomfort, though she managed to keep the frown off her face.  As he prepared to leave, she lifted her hand in a small wave.  "See you later."



Alex shook her head.  "I wish his little murmurings were the way to go.  If I thought for a second it would work I'd pin him to the wall and smooch him 'til his socks shot off."  She said with a half-hearted smile.  "I don't know...  Maybe Raven has a clue."

Iain returned the half-smile: "Well, I think Iona is going to cover the smoochy part, if we give her time... And I'll talk to Raven: she can probably use some help."

His expression became determined, and he continued with a resolved tone: "I'll talk to Raven, I'll talk to Johnny, I'll talk to Iona: they have been chosen for their smarts, they will find something." I hope.

He looked at the kitchen clock, and added: "Of course, I should probably give them time to wake up before I start bombarding them with questions. Which reminds me: do you remember setting your alarm yesterday? Judging from its remains, I'd wager Pieran didn't set his, and I certainly didn't... Do it, with mine."

"No, I didn't."  She replied, shaking her head.  "Probably Smithers making sure we work at maximum productivity."  Alex tapped her middle finger on the kitchen table as she thought.  "You know...  If Gonzo does come up with anything useful, it might be worth seeing if he can dig up anything about what Erin-whats-her-name did to Pieran.  I don't know, maybe someone local will know something."  She shrugged helplessly, not knowing of any other way she could lend a hand.

"Good idea. Even if he doesn't know anything, he might have a lead on someone who does."

He took a last sip from his bottle and added: "Where's everybody anyway? Didn't anybody tell them that breakfast is the most important meal fo the day?"

   Johnny spent the slightest moment considering where to look for Raven - he wasn't quite sure whether her room or the library was the best bet. Seeing as the former was closest, he squatted in front of her door for a moment before he concluded she wasn't there. Confusion displayed on his face as he failed to find her among the bookshelves as well, but just as he was about to leave the books to their own lives, the high C of a violin revealed her location. He practically beamed as he knocked the door before opening it.
   "Violin Concerto number one in B flat Mayor - excellent choice, though Vivaldi's more to my liking," he commented, pretending to direct the music for a while, before he realized what a dork he looked like. To satisfy Raven's disconcerted look, he resumed: "Point of the matter is, as much as..." He paused abruptly, his grin fading into an expression of confusion. "Wait...Mozart? You're playing Mozart? You can't be playing Mozart!" he exclaimed, his hands extended to his sides in an incredulous manner.

“Actually Mr. Hope, I’m listening to Mozart.” She looked at him with a mischievous grin. “Do you have something against the Austrian composer?”

   "Mozart? If I have anything against him? Certainly not, he's an extraordinary composer - genius, yet composed," Johnny said, biting his tongue as he felt himself start rambling. "And as much as I'd like to praise Queen of the Night and play you some of his most beautiful arrangements for the piano...What I'm trying to say here, is, how should I put this...?" He paused, looking away from Raven and towards the roof.
   "Firstly, I and I...I mean, Iona and I...God..." He cleared his throat as well as his mind. "We did the investigating mojo yesterday, and despite all our efforts being the closest thing to fruitless, with the water samples providing no clues short of the the upstreams factory not staying quite within its pollution limits, I spoke to a man who mentioned he was completely unable to sing anything short of grim, depressing tunes lately. And we completely failed to find anything along the lines of music when downtown, so it seemeed something had actually rid the place of cheerful melodies."
   Feeling mericful, Johnny allowed Raven the slightest pause to digest what he had dropped on her. "But then again, here are you, playing Mozart which is everything but tear-inspiring, so...are you following at all?"

Raven frowned as she listened to Johnny ramble. He reminded her of a record that was playing at too high a speed. In her head she tried to slow him down and make sense of what he was saying. “So, you met a man who only sang sad and depressing songs?” She shrugged. “Most art comes from pain. Popular music has always been rife with broken-hearted break-up songs, no matter what genre you listen to. I fail to see the significance of your discovery. He just sounds like almost every other musician you hear on the radio these days.”

   "I see I am explaining badly. The point here is that the old man didn't choose to sing lamentful ballads or aggressive music - as much as he tried, he was completely and physically incapable of singing anything but dirges of death, however much he tried." Johnny contemplated the silly-factor of what he had just said for a second. "And the radio didn't just not play good music - I am very used to that, seeing as my tastes lean towards symphonic metal - the point is, the radio didn't play any music at all!"

   Throwing a glance towards the CD-player, Johnny's brows met thoughtfully above his nose. "Now, I am starting to think the phenomenom might be a bit more localized to the downtown area, and I'm completely stranded as far as connecting it to boats running ashore midriver, but...hm..."

Raven leaned against the desk, trying to understand what Johnny was saying. “Maybe the radio was broken, and the man was just depressed.” She wanted to take his concerns seriously, but she found that hard to do. “Do you really believe downtown St. Louis is magically devoid of happy music? It would be easy enough to check out. Get yourself a portable Karaoke machine and drive to the waterfront and sing. Sing a song. Sing out loud, sing out strong. Sing of good things not bad. Sing of happy not sad.” Raven gave Johnny a Cheshire Cat grin.

   Johnny stepped forward, articulating his words overly clearly and flailing arms to underline his points, appearing more agitated than earlier: "But clearly the man wouldn't just lie about..." Johnny forcibly calmed himself down, his serious expression melting into a smile.
   "I'm sorry - no need to discuss this when we so easily can put the theory to test. It's not like we have to subject ourselves to the quantum immortality experiment, after all." Pondering the matter, he concluded: "Ï'll go downtown and see if I can get my hands on a piano then." He strectched his nimble fingers, twisting them into apparently impossible angles. "Want to come?"

Raven checked her watch. “If you’re looking for a piano at this hour, you’re probably going to be limited to music stores. If you want to try something like a piano bar, we could try heading downtown around happy hour. Either is fine with me. My only obligation for the day is checking in with the bookstore about mid-day.”

  "Sounds reasonable. I'm off to the kitchen then - want something?"

“I’ll probably head down for a coffee refill in a little while. So, are we going to test your music theory in a store this morning, or hit a piano bar at happy hour, or search out a karaoke place for dinner?”

   "My money's on the piano bar - leaves me with time to talk things over with Alex and the dead guy - uhm, Iain." Johnny observed the mess that was the desk for a while. "We have a date - uhm, deal, then?" he said, pausing by the door.

Raven nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

_{Tuesday, 19 Oct. Evening dinner hour}

Throughout the rest of the day, the members of the manor drifted in and out of conversation as they tended to their day’s activities. Eventually, everything that was discussed in the early morning was shared with the rest of the household.

Johnny and Raven had departed the quiet, tree-lined driveway and headed toward Downtown St. Louis. Part experiment and part date, they soon arrived at Ivories, a mildly upscale eatery near the center of downtown. The stark, black and white paneled doors mirrored a piano keyboard with the handles formed like Treble Clef notes. As they entered, the aroma of sizzling steaks, baked potatoes, fresh fruit circled around them. A sign by the hostess station read, Your Key to an Enchanted Evening.

They were in luck, for Tuesday was open keyboard night. Anyone with a hankering to tickle the ivories could simply approach the Steinway Grand that was somewhat centered in the room on a short riser. The affect was that if one wanted to see who was playing they could, but the performer was not blatantly “on stage.” Guests could simply provide pleasant background music to dine to. Or if they were so inclined, they could sing into the mounted microphone while their fingers provided the musical support. A list of sheet music the establishment provided was included in the menu as the hostess seated Johnny and Raven.

A middle aged woman was currently on the bench. Neil diamond’s Song Sung Blue was soon recognized as her selection of choice. The tones of the piano were well played, although it lacked the intensity of a concert performance, it was indeed pleasant for dinner music.

Raven appreciated Johnny’s choice of establishments. This was a lot better than a karaoke bar or a smoky nightclub with flashing lights. Still, she hoped their odd mission wouldn’t take long. “I like Neil Diamond, he was a favorite of my mother’s, but I was never all that fond of this particular song. Do you think we could request she play something more upbeat, like Sweet Caroline or something? Then we could get this whole thing settled very quickly.”

Johnny turned to Raven with a discontent frown on his face. "If anybody's playing Sweet Caroline around here, it's me," he said, his voice hinting at humour where facial expressions didn't play along.  "Only problem is, I don't know it - I do have another cheery tune, though, let's just get a bit settled in. You want something to drink or anything?"

“Just coffee,” Raven answered. “Wait, scratch that.” Her conversations with both Iona and Pieran from the day before were replaying in the back of her mind. They think I’m too uptight and that I don’t know how to have a good time, she thought. Here I am, sitting in a piano bar with a man, and I’m treating it like a scientific exercise. She wasn’t really expecting Johnny’s notion about the music to be proven true. She just tagged along because he seemed a little too jumpy to let him go by himself. As long as she was here, she might as well try to let her hair down a little. “I’ll have a Scorpion.”

   "A what?" Johnny asked quzzically, obviously not completely familiar with the lingo of alocoholic beverages. "No need to explain - after all, if the bartender knows his 'tending, I just need to know if its one of those you take by the neck or the tail." His smile lingered, his mood unusually cheerful to soon return to one of those domains he actually mastered.

   A few minutes later, after having patiently communicated in something which wasn't quite English, not quite Spanish and defintely invented on the spot, Johnny returned with a glass of iced water in one hand. In the other, he held the Scorpion carefully in two fingers, the arm extended away form his body, much like how one would handle a poisonous viper.

   "There you go - fresh from the Amazonian rainforests. One poor Native American had to cut off his own leg with a dull pair of scissors after he was stung in the attempt to capture it. So, met any cute boys lately?" Johnny peered slightly over Raven's shoulder, observing the piano and its currently unoccupied state.

Raven smiled at Johnny, amused by his antics regarding her drink. “I’m just glad I didn’t order a Screaming Orgasm,” she said as she took the slushy, orange-tinted beverage.



Raven looked at him with one raised eyebrow as she sipped her drink. Time for small talk and witty banter. She was never very good at this. Ignoring his comment about boys, she pointed at his water glass. “Did you decide to give up drinking after that hangover you had when we first met? Or are you just being a good designated driver?”

   Johnny smiled at her first remark, but though he tried to maintain the grin as she commented on his drink, his brows heaved defensively, a sting of conscience running through him. He had resorted to his tiny white friends while he was absent - it cleared his mind, yet clouded his soul. "'just something for me voice," Johnny explained - though in the strictest sense true, the words hid the real reason. As a doctor, he knew better than mixing drugs - one could argue I should know better than doing drugs at all, but...

   His distant eyes returned to the current scene, his forgotten smile still lingering falsely in his face. "Now, it's time I stop beating around the bush, Raven," Johnny said, taking a step towards her. "The piano is waiting."

   He advanced to the mighty piano - of all the elegantly crafted instruments of the world, only one struck him as grander than the concert piano, and that was the church organ. He had occasionally hoped to learn to play it properly, but he didn't frequent quite the right circles. Johnny stepped up to the rather unceremonial stage, seizing the microphone by the piano. In a quiet voice he addressed those in the room - nonetheless, there was something about him to make people turn around.

   "Ladies, gentlemen, I hope you are enjoying yourselves, and that I have not completely lost my touch with the keys." Smiling, briefly pausing, he resumed. "This song - The Sun's Always Behind the Skies - this song I've composed to the lovely lady at table seventeen." Johnny smiled towards Raven, eager to see her reaction - he didn't mind surprising her - though something deep in his super-consciouness, that sixth sense of his, warned him he had made a mistake, forgotten about something. He was left with no time to dwell by the matter, and rather seated himself in front of the piano. Though he had never before touched it, he felt reassured by the seventy-five keys friend. As his fingers started dancing across the black and white, the yin and yang, he completely forgot about everything else.


   At the top of a hill, lies a young boy sleeping.
At the depth of a sea, hides an old man weeping.
Below the black skies, lies a young boy dreaming.
Frozen in dark ice, dies an old man screaming.

   Johnny stumbled briefly stumbled slightly - The words...what were the...whereform He had no time to further contemplate. He was one with the song.

At the top of the hill,
Skies grow blacker still,
Alone, lost and astray,
They see skies fade away.

They see the pale lights go out.


Among the dead trees, dreams the truth-defying.
Blocked from warm streams, trapped the undenying.
At the top of a hill, hides a boy all alone.
At the depth of the sea, screams a man on his own.

At the top of the hill,
Skies grow blacker still,
The two who are one,
Even together alone.

But in the dark they finally see.

Sun sinking behind him, stands an old man screaming.
In him the young boy, no longer dreaming.
They both know their visions won't come true.

Final sunset blazing, they both stand crying.
Because underneath them, their world is dying.
The boy in the man, died long ago.

As Johnny ended the song, there was a slight moment of deafening silence. Then the pitter-patter of polite applause circled the room. After a moment, there were quiet whispers at the tables and then quickly it returned to near normal dining room chatter and the clinking of silverware on china.

Raven forced a smile as Johnny dedicated his song to her. It was a little flattering, but mostly she felt self-conscious and embarrassed. She gave a weak smile and nod to some of the people at nearby tables that had turned to look in her direction. Then she tried to slink back in her chair, disappearing into the shadows and hiding behind her drink.

He’s actually not half-bad, she thought as she listened to him sing. His fingers were a little too stiff sometimes when they would move across the keys. Raven wasn’t sure if he was nervous or just out of practice.  His vocal quality was a little rough around the edges, but it seemed to suit this particular song. As she listened to the lyrics, a frown formed on her face. It was a very unusual choice for a song dedication.

After the song ended and the diners returned to their normal socializing, Raven approached Johnny as he sat at the piano. “Uh, thanks. That was a nice gesture. I didn’t even know you knew how to play. But, I thought the point was to test your theory by playing happy music.”

   Johnny quitened his voice to a near whisper, so as not to call more attention to them. "Oh, thanks God, I thought you would be outraged to have me embarass you with that Oddysé in death, mighty sorry about that." That was what his spider had been nagging him about.

   "Those were not the original lyrics at all. Remember the title? That was original. At the top of the hill blooms the white rose blushing? That was original. I completely forgot about my whole theory amidst all the, well..." Johnny shook his head disconcerted, muttering something about the sun climbing the sky yet anew. "If nothing else, it leaves us with a theory confirmed. Any cheerful song sung herein will be twisted to fit the tastes of a seventeen year old Dimmu Borgir fan with spiked bracelets and a liking for black leather."

Raven was relieved the creepiness of the song wasn’t intentional and wasn’t inspired by her. “So, you’re saying that you tried to sing a happy song and different words came out of your mouth?” Now she was intrigued, and the researcher in her started coming out. “I wonder how widespread this is. How would you feel about doing our own version of a musical bar crawl? I’d like to see what happens if we find a jukebox and play a pre-recorded happy song, as well as find out where the line is. Obviously this didn’t seem to be a problem back at the mansion, but it is here. If we could find the epicenter of this phenomenon, maybe we could find the cause.” Now that the evening was shifting into more of an investigation, and less of a date mode, Raven felt a lot more comfortable with the outing.

Dren's ears burned like fire and his skin felt like it was physically crawling with irritation. He told Raven he had things to do at the mansion, but 20 minutes after her leaving he couldn't find a single one. He walked from his room at a brisk pace trying to expend some of the energy that was now starting to bring his blood to a boil, while his mind aggravated the situation by taking inventory of Mr. Hope. He was intelligent, witty, and an educated individual and as much as he hated to envision her with the skinny blond at a piano bar he had to admit that it seemed fitting. A place like that would be mellow, calm and reserved... in other words, perfect.

As he descended the stairs to the second floor Dren whipped his leather jacket onto his shoulders a bit harder than usual. The sting on the back of his neck was a lashing for being too dense to have thought of it on his own. As much as he knew about Raven, it seemed to be the little things that slipped his attention. Grabbing his lapels he snapped them against his neck again... one more lashing so the dog doesn't forget.

As he whipped around to glide down the stairs to the first floor he still didn't know where he was going to go, but he imagined he'd end up somewhere with lots of lights and a room full of loud music and air tainted smoke. The kind of place that smelled like $1 Well Drinks and cheap beer. The kind of place with a parking lot that smelled like Menthols and anyone could get a nicotine buzz by standing on the sidewalk!

I cried on my blood day
There was nothing that I could hold on to
Just a line could have helped
remind me of you, of you

I screamed till the blood came
I was living in a cloud of hope
Lover's kiss,
Then they make a wish to the end,
They pretend

Cause everyday hurts a little more,
And everyday hurts a litte more
And I'll do anything
Yes I'll do anything
To belong, to be strong,
To say there's nothing wrong

Everyday hurts a little more,
And everyday hurts a litte more
And I'll do anything
Yes I'll do anything
To belong, to be strong,
To say there's nothing wrong

Everyday hurts
                             ^{Skunk Anansie, "Twisted"}


They certainly do, Iona thought as she moved about in the Science Lab.

Having finished the analysis of their river findings -- and found nothing, nada, zip, zilch, zero -- Iona had returned to her on-going study of her own blood. When the traditional Ciloth cleansing rituals had had no effect on her, the Elders had hypothesized that answer might be in there, somewhere in her mixed blood. Now, years later, Iona still hadn't been able to find that particular molecule she needed to modify. But, thanks to Cornerstone's well-equipped Science Lab and her trusty PDA with all her research data, she would be able to continue her quest. And tonight was as good a time as any, being practically alone in the mansion. Well, except for Pieran, but Iona didn't feel confident enough to be confronted with him just yet. But all the others had taken off to chase after the various leads they had in the current case.

"And I'll do anything
Yes I'll do anything
To belong, to be strong,
To say there's nothing wrong
Everyday hurts," she sang and twirled about in the room, only to steady herself against the counter, slightly woozy. She'd had to draw new samples of her blood, and tonight's little sub-project would be to try to separate the Ciloth part of her blood from the human part, in case Johnny wanted to run tests of his own. The med student's request for medical information was still a source of concern for Iona, but once she'd decided to keep her heritage a secret from the others (at least for now - she really hadn't known them all that long), the rest had been easy.

"Y' need another Red Bull?" asked the broody Irishman, perched on a chair at one of the lab tables.

"!!!" yelped Iona, as Dren felt a hard shove on his chest, knocking him off the chair.

"BLOODY-"THUD was all that could be heard as the Irishman landed flat out on his back knocking the air from his chest.

"Dren! God, don't scare me like that!" She rushed over to help him up. "Are you OK? Where'd you come from?"
Dren pointed to the open door as he slipped a chair leg out from under his back and reached toward the counter. She picked up the overturned chair and placed it back in its place, before turning back to the dark man. "Bell, neck - think about it," she said with a crooked smile. Dren smiled back as he reached his feet and popped something with a stretch "If y'want me t'wear somethin' kinky y'dinna have t'play coy. Y'can jus' come out an' say it."

She laughed. "If I ever opt for the kinky, you won't need to hear me say it - you'll notice from the being gagged and bound in my scarves." Her hand automatically rose to the piece of cloth on her forehead, checking it's position. Dren cooed "Ooo, Now that's hot."

Glancing behind her, she saw a vial with her blood still on the counter. She cautiously took a step sideways to block his view. "I thought you'd go with Raven and Johnny to the piano place?" She wasn't just asking to distract him from her work in the Lab; she really had expected him to accompany Raven, like he always did. "What's up?"

It didn't take a mind reader to see that Iona had hit a nerve as Dren looked at the ground, then to the walls as if searching the room for a good response to that, but his wit was failing him.

"Not m'thing." It was all he could come up with at the moment. In the back of his mind he stiffled the thoughts of Johnny and Raven actually having a good time at the piano bar and in doing so realized he was digging the nails of his left hand into his palm. Opening the hand he looked at the four purplish marks on his skin while forgetting Iona was there at all. He smiled at her again, "B'sides she can go out with-" It was a thought that seemed to get lost as Dren quickly shrugged a new one in place. "I'm really more o'a music an' dancin' kind'a guy. Birds o'a feather, an' all tha'."

In an effort to clear Raven from his mind he let it latch on to the first thing that came into it, and it was the sudden memory of dancing with Iona in that club. Before everything got complicated and confused, and long before he and Raven ended and The Surreal Life somehow began. A part of him wanted to go back to that time, when things weren't so cloudy, feelings didn't get in the way and it was then that Dren linked the concept of emotional freedom to Iona. At the risk of sounding co-dependant he tried to bait the dual natured scientist.

"An' what 'bout you? You plannin' on stayin' in personal exile all night?"

Iona resisted the urge to look behind her once more, at the vials and microscopes and computer screens and all her research and stuff she had planned to take care of. Instead she focused on Dren... and there was a whole lot more to be taken care of there. She pursed her lips and nodded to herself.

"You know what? Dancing sounds like a good idea," she said, as she ushered Dren out of the lab. "I've been in a weird funk ever since this afternoon. Just give me 5 minutes... er, make it 10."

Wearing an unusually elegant suit - black, of course - and a silk shirt of the same color, Iain approached the suite where Iona and Alex slept, knocked on the door, then tried to poke his head in, but bounced off an invisible barrier.

He frowned and put a hand forward to examine it: apparently, the whole suite was considered a private room.

"Well... Interesting." He sighed, then called out: "Alex? You ready?"

"Just about..."  Alex poked her head out of her bedroom door, looking across at the doorway to the suite.

"Oh...  Suddenly I feel underdressed." She remarked, eying the suit Iain was wearing, then looking back down at what she had chosen.  "Any reason for the snazzy shreds?"

Iain raised an eyebrow: "First off, you could go around wearing a trash bag, and you'd still make heads turn... Anyway, this time, I'd like to impress Mr. Gonzales with something other than our ability to make him squeal."

He opened the suit, revealing a stake on one side and a short blade on the other, and smiled: "Also, this was the only jacket I had already prepared to carry two weapons at once."

Buttoning the jacket again, he continued: "Obviously, it's not him I'm worried about... But those friends we don't really know anything about might decide to make an appearence, and I like to be prepared."

He paused for a second: "Of course, if I ruin the spiffy dress, Smithers will come looking for me with a hatchet... Probably should have thought about that, mh?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:44, Wed 25 May 2005.

Alex grinned in response, disappearing back inside her room for a few moments and then reappearing, dressed in a purple and black bustier, black leather trousers and a pair of low-heeled (low for the extreme stiletto goth crowd, anyway) boots.  Her hair was swept back in an up-do, though as usual, a few of the rebellious shorter strands at the front were already making their bid for freedom and falling around her face.  Finishing off the look was a black choker decorated with a gothic silver cross and a bracelet on wrist.

"Alright, I'm good to go."  She announced with a smile, closing the door behind her and wandering over to the entrance of the suite.

Iain looked at her for several seconds, evidently impressed. "That... You are."

He smiled back, offered her the arm, and continued: "Shall we?"

Looping her arm through his, Alex nodded.  "I'm hoping that tonight will not be a night of ruined outfits.  Probably wishful thinking, though.  Oh well."  With a casual shrug, Alex let Iain lead the way downstairs.

The club 6 Feet Under was not as crowded as last night, but it was still well attended. Finding a place to park was not difficult and Alex and Iain were soon standing before “Skeletor” and his creepy cousin. They scanned Iain briefly and lingered on Alex, but with a nod in unison, they allowed the two to enter the club proper.

The band Jagged Rain was performing on stage again. The lead singer was throwing herself into her vocals and did not seem to notice the crowd as she belted out the song.

On the far side of the room, toward the back of the crowd, Gonzo was swaying to the music. He placed his arm onto the shoulders of a young lady, who seemed to shudder and shrink from view.

Looking somewhat taken aback, Gonzo’s eyes followed the woman’s form as it moved a couple of people away from him and then she stood up in the crowd again. Not wanting to make a scene, Gonzo shrugged and looked into the crowd for his next date.

Alex soon spotted Gonzo, smiling to herself as his potential date for the night excerised some taste and left, rather rapidly.  She made a beeline for him, weaving through the people scattered through the club, trying to keep out of his sight until she was relatively close.  Once within earshot, she waved to catch his attention and smiled pleasantly.  "Hello Gonzo..."

As his gaze stopped on Rain and her band, Iain smiled briefly: apparently, they had been a hit. Well, there were worse places than Six Feet Under to get a gig in... Though, taken out of context, probably not.

He followed Alexis, remaining a few steps behind to make himself scarce. As she greeted rat boy, he looked around, searching for guys with long coats or other signs of trouble.

At first he spotted the pretty young thing waving at him. Gonzo smiled briefly. Then he recognized who it was and his countenance changed to one of disappointment and business.

“Oh, it is just you. Well, I guess it really should be business before pleasure.” He searched the crowd behind Alex and seemed satisfied. “You know, it is still not too late for you to enjoy the Pleasure before we get to the business My Sweet.” He smiled, no make that leered at Alex and let his eyes look her up and down while his tongue wet his thin lips.

“Either way you want to go, Alex My Sweet, you still have to follow me back to my room.” Gonzo turned and started to walk toward the back of the club, back to his special room. Turning to look over his shoulder, he winked and said “Come My Sweet and see what flavor of sugar Gonzo has for you.” He strode swiftly away, not looking back a second time.

Alex smiled cheerfully as she followed Gonzo.  "Oh, only business I think, Gonzo.  Indulging in any kind of pleasure with you is about as appealing as skinny-dipping in lava."  She replied lightly, checking behind to see where Iain was once she was sure Gonzo had stopped looking back.

Gonzo approached the door to his room. There was a huge crack in the door where the handle and lock met the frame. A hasp had been screwed into the frame and from that hung a padlock. It was somewhat secure, but it certainly lacked the suave appearance of the night before. Glaring back at Alex, like this was her fault, he removed a key from his pocket and opened the lock. Partly lifting the door, he swung it inward and propped it open.

Allowing Alex to enter first, he lifted the door again and closed it as best he could. It was not locked and did not even fit smoothly into the frame.

“Your loss My Sweet.” He sat heavily on the easy chair and waved his hand toward the Futon for Alex to sit. “No demon door knockers tonight? That little stunt will cost you extra. Now, I asked around and I did find something odd that might be of some use to you. But first there is the matter of my Initial fee. I assume you have brought it? We can negotiate on the extra expenses and endangerment clause, of course.” Gonzo steepled his fingers together and looked at Alex expectantly.

Alex grinned at Gonzo, declining the futon and opting to wander around the room.  "Your fee...  You've already had that, my dear Gonzo.  It was paid after you uttered the words, 'So let me go and I'll get the information you want.'  And unfortunately," she gestured to the door, "that little stunt would never have happened if you hadn't tried your I'm-a-scary-demon trick.  The damage to the door is entirely your own fault."

Pausing behind the futon, she inspected the material while she continued.  "You're a businessman; think of this as a free trial.  Chances are I will need more information in the future and if what you're providing turns out to be worthwhile, well, next time you see me I'll be carrying some cash for you."

“Clever girl.” Gonzo narrowed his beady eyes a bit further. With a sinister tone not unlike the evil doctor in a late night monster movie, Gonzo said, “It appears that you are not just some pretty little Amazon, but that you have a brain as well. Very well then. If you want to play word games, I too can play.”

Shifting both his tone and his body into a businesslike manner, he said “Your request for information was indeed difficult to obtain. But I managed to gather some details. There has been a long standing contract for water from the states of Texas, Nevada, and New Mexico. They feel slighted that the Michigan has so much with four of the five Great Lakes around it and they have so little.

Legitimate attempts to force a pipeline to be constructed from that source of freshwater to the drought stricken states was laughed out of court. Something about it being “an ecological disaster of biblical proportions” or some such logic. It was truly a business proposition, nothing more.

It would seem that someone is attempting to fulfill that contract and make a healthy paycheck in the process for this can not be cheap to do. The Mississippi has its own source, but can be fed from Lake Michigan through a series of dams and locks. If they desire to keep the waterways deep enough, they will open those dams. Then everyone will be happy and the contract can be met.”

Out of the door, Iain listened intently at the fragments of conversation that filtered through.

That can't be right... They are stealing the water? Sounds like something out of a Clive Cussler novel.

_{Tuesday Oct 19, Evening}

As Alex grilled Gonzo for information with Iain lurking as backup, Raven and Johnny conducted their version of a scientific musical “bar crawl”. Using the OnStar in the vehicle, they punched in a search for all of the bars in the immediate area that had some form of music, dancing, or open microphone featured in the establishment’s description. Together they worked on Raven’s theory that if they could find some of the outer limits of this bazaar phenomenon, they could plot the epicenter.

With the information that Johnny and Iona had gathered earlier, they worked with the belief that the source originated somewhere downtown. They plotted a route that would both be efficient and productive. It zigzagged away from the city center as Raven and Johnny would enter a bar, try to sing or play an upbeat song, or simply observe the tone of the band if there was one. They made notes as to their results and then moved on to the next place.

Iona bounced off the dance floor to a quieter area of the club. Plunking down onto a seat with a relieved sigh, she leaned down to squeeze her right foot. It was throbbing slightly. She cast a dark look towards the crowd. Bastard hadn't even apologized. Lucky for the guy, she'd managed to hold Dren back before the gallant Irishman had done something unmentionable to the klutz. She wiggled her red-painted toes at Dren.

"See? Nothing broken, nothing wrong; no need to go break anything or anyone else."

Dren took the raised foot in his left hand almost unconsciously and began to recirculate the blood flow with the fingers of his right. It was instantly obvious that Dren's hands were skilled at squeezing more than just triggers and it seemed he wasn't concerned with the idea of massaging a sweaty foot. Dren seemed to come from a world where a lady's honor was more important than a man's personal hygiene.

"Sorry, 'bout that. Raven an' I 'ad t'meet a client in a place like this once. Some guy spilled a drink on 'er-" It was as if Dren suddenly realized he was talking about her and just shut down.

Iona's wonder at the spontaneous pedicure she was receiving was quickly diverted by the turn their conversation had suddenly taken. Iona hid a grin. No matter how hard Dren tried to get Raven off his mind, the archaeologist was never far from his thoughts. Sooner or later, Dren was going to spill his guts and tell Iona what was going on, and he wouldn't need much prodding to get there.

Meanwhile, whatever the issue du jour, there was still the underlying problem of Dren's insecurities regarding his own adequacy. If he would only believe that an intelligent, well-educated, beautiful woman could truly be interested in him for his own qualities... Well, I'm at least two out of three, Iona thought wryly.

Extracting her foot from his grasp, she appeared to change the subject. "You know, all this excitement has made me hungry again."

Dren smiled asking "Y'want t'get out o'ere? Get somethin' t'eat?"

"Sushi? Yesh pleashe!"

"Y'read m'mind."

The music blared as the two moved toward the door, Dren doing his best to both cut a path through the raging ocean of bodies and to keep them from bumping into Iona again.

Back at the 6 Feet Under, Alex folded her arms, listening to Gonzo as he spun the rather ridiculous sounding tale.  Once he had finished speaking, she voiced the questions and considerations that had sprung up during his explanation.  "That doesn't explain why the water levels don't appear to go down unless you're using instruments to measure it - surely if this mysterious someone wants the dams open they'd want it obvious that the water levels are low?"

She paused, moving out from behind the futon, her brow furrowing slightly as she thought.  "For that matter, did you find any clues as to who is behind this?  Or how they're siphoning away the water?  I assume its something a little more complex than one man and his shovel."

Gonzo smiled in a most unpleasant way. In a nasally voice he mimicked Alex…
_{"I sent me and what I want is information.  Specifically regarding the barges running aground in the Mississippi when the charts and eyes say there should be plenty of water abound."}

He seemed pleased with himself for his impersonation of Alex as he continued. “As you can see, My Sweet, I have now given you your “Free Trial”.  As for the who and the How that will cost you. I can take my payment in cash or… Gonzo looked Alex up and down once. “…or in trade. Either way, I get my fee in advance, My Sweet.”

Iain was listening intently to the conversation within the room. The hairs on the back of his neck began to bristle as Iain became aware of a change in the club’s cliental. Turning to look back toward the main room, he saw five figures, dressed in long leather coats, dark pants and boots, moving toward him quickly. Four of them formed a wedge around the fifth man as they parted the crowd, sometimes forcibly, making a beeline to Gonzo door.

The one in the middle of the wedge spoke as they approached the door and Iain.
“So, our friend Gonzo has taken to hiring muscle in addition to his security door. Someone remind me to increase what we pay him so that Gonzo can hire something with meat on their bones. Remove the scrawny flea. I want to speak with Gonzo.”

Alex had actually considered handing Gonzo some cash in the brief few moments before he offered the alternative method payment.  She lowered her head slightly, glowering at ratfink through narrowed eyes and slowly, deliberately uncrossed her arms, moving across the room toward him.  "Trade, and in advance?  Sure.  I'll hit you until you tell me what I want to know.  Sounds dandy to me."

Iain unbuttoned his jacket, smiling friendly: "Oh, please, gentlemen, no need to get violent..."

Looking directly at the fifth man, he nodded a hint of a bow and added: "Mr. Gonzales will be have you in a minute. Meanwhile, maybe you would care to enjoy the bar? I'm confident they'll be able to meet your tastes."

“Oh, the mighty Flea has tact, although not the wit to know its place. We enter the doorway without permission and you come with us.” With that, the closest three leaped forward and bodily grabbed Iain. Like the front line of a pro football team, they gave Iain a shove into the door. It opened with no protest swinging quickly, but banged mutely against the carpeted wall. Just as quickly as they grabbed him, they released Iain. The four “linebackers” fanned out and created a semicircle around the last one, who turned and closed the door as best as it could be closed.

If looks could kill, the three guys would have dropped dead instantly as soon as they put Iain down.

He straightened his jacket and half-turned to Gonzo and Alex: "Sorry to, ah, barge in like this, ma'am... These gentlemen were in a real hurry to meet Mr. Gonzales, I hope we are not interrupting."

Gonzo jumped up at the ruckus, but when he saw who was calling, he relaxed. Well, mostly relaxed. There was a stranger he did not recognize in the room and Gonzo eyed Iain suspiciously.

“Chorro, how nice it is to see you.” Gonzo said. “ and I see you brought the boys today. Do come in. What brings you around? Oh, my manners. Let me introduce Miss Alexis. She and I were just discussing my fee for a, … transaction. We were just about finished when you came knocking.”

Gonzo directed his attention toward Iain. “You, however have me at a loss. You will have to introduce yourself. Snooping were you? Tsk tsk tsk.” Gonzo said to Iain while stroking his left index finger with right.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:10, Wed 01 June 2005.

Alex too span around to see what on earth was happening, a little alarmed to see the large number of men entering the room, though at least it wasn't going to be hard to get out - the door was as dead as, well, a doornail.  After Gonzo introduced her, she gave the...  Men? a brillant smile and then turned to the snitch, gesturing at Iain.  "Oh, he's with me."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:42, Wed 01 June 2005.

“You mean this Flea does not work for you? I suspected he was a sad excuse for security.” Chorro said to Gonzo. The air seemed to be tense, as if slightly charged with raw power. It was almost tangible.

“Oh my, no! You know as well as anyone that I do not need the likes of him to protect me in my own space.” Gonzo laughed a hearty laugh, though it still seemed weaselly somehow.

Chorro looked from Alex to Iain. Then his eyes moved to the iron rings on the wall, to Gonzo and finally the futon. “I see.” He gave a knowing nod. “If you would be so kind as to wait right over there,” He looked at Alex and Iain as he pointed to the corner. “My business with Mr. Gonzales won’t take long, and then you can get down to your… business.”

Alex nodded, smothering the urge to shout a vehement denial of ever doing anything of that nature with Gonzo and instead moved quietly to the corner as directed.  It was moments like this she wished she too had a brain the size of a planet and could hide away in a lab or library, avoiding having to deal with people like their present company.

A clang of swords. Arrows licked past Pieran’s head bringing iron death with them. Soldiers by scores of thousands surrounded him in melee. Giant siege weapons blasted fortified positions while cavalry assaulted infantrymen, slaughtering them to a man. Chinese against Arab. The Battle of Talas, 751 AD.



The march was slow, the Chinese prisoners often forced to crawl like dogs toward the slave markets awaiting them. He marched along with them, shackled to one of the other prisoners, Men Jiao. “I hear you are sick,” he said. “I am sad to know this. You are crossing into the world of Spirit. Soon you may become one with us.”

“This is not the way I wanted to do it,” Pieran replied. “Master, of all the souls I have reached, yours has been devilishly hard to find.”

Men Jiao laughed. “I am a sorcerer, young boy. I keep my nature veiled.”

“How were you captured? A sorcerer should manage escape.”

“It is going to plan,” Men Jiao whispered, but the crack of an Arab whip silenced him.



Syria and the penal yard in Homs. Prisoners wearing mixed rags of clothing milled about within the prison’s great stone walls. Guards carried whips and swords and abused their Chinese guests. Some prisoners broke stones and cut blocks. Others raked sand. Scorching sun baked their flesh. Racks of wood in exotic contraptions were set there and about. Pieran and Men Jiao worked with one of them. “Not that way,” Men Jiao said. He stepped beside Pieran as he wicked waste water from the trellis frames. “You will tear the pulp.” Men Jiao took the absorbing cloth from Pieran’s hands and reapplied it to the pulpy mush.

“Why are you making paper?”

“Irony. Writing began here but paper is scarce. They are taking the secret of paper making from us.”

“How is this going to plan, Master?”

“There is a demon king worshipped in this area. His high priest is also a sorcerer; Abd Al-Hazred.” Men Jiao lifted the cloth and after plucking a few hairs from his head, set them onto the damp mush in an exact pattern, and began pressing the paper mulch with a rolling press. “This paper will go to Al Hazred. He will write upon these pages his infernal incantations. But I am a sorcerer and astral warrior; these hairs will become siphon for Al-Hazred’s magic, effectively draining them while he witlessly casts into the ether, and at the same time, draining the life of the book’s author,” he added with a smile. “With Al-Hazred destroyed, the king’s gate to this world will close. That is why I allowed myself to be captured at Talas.”



Nightfall. Men Jiao was peacefully asleep in the bedding upon the floor. Pieran stood near the door, stealing glances into the dark hall outside. Groans and shrieks filled the hall like noisy ghosts.



Predawn hours. The Arab guards burst into their cell. Men Jiao was taken forcibly from his bedding upon the floor and dragged from the cell. Pieran followed, or was led. They moved outside into a courtyard where Al Hazred, his guards, a translator, and his most ranking clerics were waiting. One man held a broad scimitar. The withering old Chinaman was pushed to his knees, his hands bound behind his back. The Arab sorcerer/cleric held up a parchment, one of the paper parchments Men Jiao fashioned for Hazred’s unhallowed writings. “Old Man, your deceptions have been discovered. For this treasonous disobedience to our authority, you are put to death. But before you go I want you to know that all of your efforts have gone for nothing. I discovered your little trick by the will of my king. Mercifully, he has made me allergic to head lice.” He laughed lightly as Men Jiao looked at him as horror filled his eyes. “Think of it, sorcerer: your power undone by a mite smaller than the fine sands of Damascus.”

The executioner raised his giant weapon. Pieran screamed but no sound burst forth. He heard his grandmother’s voice behind him. “Grillo, venido a la Abuela!”

'Grillo. That's what she used to call me. "Cricket,"' Pieran thought.

Pieran turned around. Erinyes was standing before him, smiling through black teeth. Her wings wrapped around him in a warm embrace and with a free hand she lifted her dagger, readying to drive it into his body. His eyes fled from the blade to Erinyes face. It was his grandmother’s apple-dumpling face. “I bring you together with death!”

Two blades plunge downward. There is a heavy chunk as the executioner’s scimitar found its mark behind him and a thud as Erinyes rammed the dagger blade into Pieran’s chest, twisting it, breaking it. The broken steel dissolved into his tissue and he screamed. Grandmother leered at him without remorse, her face a skull, her black teeth juicy with freshly eaten flesh. She smiled with triumph, laughing the laughter of malice.



“Erinyes!” Pieran sat bolt upright in his bed, regretting it at once. His pains had climbed to mountainous heights since breakfast. His breathing was ragged and he was feverish and weak. He needed water. A sound outside, like a car starting up, poured through the open door of his porch. Someone was leaving the mansion.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:23, Sat 04 June 2005.

"Y'd think that. But th'truth is, I wouldn't drink Guinness in a Japanese restaurant even if they served it." Dren set his red snapper in a mixture of wasabi diluted with soy sauce, "Jus' b'cause I'm Irish, dinna mean I can't appreciate other things in life. If tha' were th'case we wouldn't b'sittin' 'ere, now would we?" moving his chopsticks in a smooth, obviously practiced motion he lifted the tai and let the soy drip, then tapped it to his leaf shaped plate to knock off anything that might find its way to his shirt, before tossing the entire, nose punching, eye watering combo into his mouth. The fire that shot through his skull was a pleasant reminder that he was still alive and as a reflex he pulled in air through his nose as if trying to cool is scorched sinus and like that the searing was gone. "I like things wit' a 'istory an' tradition. Even though Kirin is bot'led in America it still uses th'process invented 100 years ago. Y'can't 'ave fresh taste if y'spend months sailin' it 'round th'world, through 'alf a dozen ports, only t'store it inna big met'l weare'ouse tha' would b'bet'er suited for cookin' a TV-Dinner." and with that he lifted the Japanese beer to salute the brilliance of localized distribution.

"Kanpai," Iona replied, clanking her own glass of water to his bottle. She was down to her last salmon maki, and was had begun to discretely eye Dren's rolls. Not that she was hungry anymore - she just really liked sushi.

The meal had been a pleasant one. Dren was surprisingly knowledgeable, though not in the conventional areas of wisdom. He'd certainly make the ideal Trivial Pursuit partner. And it wasn't just the weird bits of information he possessed - although Iona now realized she had missed out on a lot of good TV-shows when she'd spent all those hours in the lab. But it was also the amusing remarks he'd attach to them, occasionally showing signs of greater insight than he generally let on. I wonder who he's trying to kid here. Probably himself more than anyone.

Frowning at something beyond Dren, Iona took the opportunity to snatch one of his remaining rolls with the chop sticks when he turned to see what she'd been glaring at. She quickly dipped it and popped it into her mouth. Mmmm.

She grinned at Dren. "Sorry," she said without an ounce of remorse. "Just couldn't resist."

Dren smirked and placed his sauce disk on his sushi plate, then put his chop sticks in the space between the two like some ending ritual of prebusing the table. "Raven usually puts food on m'plate. Yer th'first person t'dare take food off."

Iona made another check in her internal list of Raven references. Everything Dren ever did, said or thought was always in relation to her. Iona didn't think either of the pair had a notion of how intertwined they were, how they both unconsciously catered to the needs of the other. But live with them for a short time and it was perfectly obvious for anybody around them. For a second, Iona was almost envious of Raven. Almost. It wasn't really anything that Iona wanted, or should ever want.

She returned her attention to the man across the table. "So I was lucky to have escaped with my hands still attached, huh?"

He smiled letting her know it was okay and added, "Next time I'll jus' order a Hand roll." He almost forced the 'H' into his sentence killing his Irish accent for a moment. It was bad enough the waitress was from Taiwan with English as her second language, tonight she had to deal with the luck o'the Irish. Dren returned to his beer, for a moment then asked, "So wit' a last name like McLean, y'got any Irish in ya?" Dren thought about his last comment for a moment, and did nothing beyond a mischievous smile.

Iona's smile faded slightly, but returned to full wattage. "Oh, I've got a little it of everything in me," she replied. "As for what specifically - it's mystery." Well, wasn't that the absolute truth. She pictured the lab and her blood samples in the little fridge. She really should have spent a few more hours working. But this was work too, sort of. And a heck of a lot more fun. "I prefer to live in the now and look to the future, not search my past. Besides, I'm not the history buff in our merry band of involuntary adventurers." There, distraction dropped.

"Dinna think o'myself as a 'istory buff. But th'way y'make it sound, I guess I do live in th'past more than I should." Dren seemed to almost stare at Iona before finally admiting "Livin' fer now. Now that's a power I wish I could 'ave." With a shrug Dren adds, "Or x-ray vision." He winked and smiled before he motioned to the waitress for the check.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:23, Sat 04 June 2005.

The journey from his back to his feet took Pieran over a full minute, and another just to stagger onto the porch. The evening was eerily quiet. The car he’d heard was long gone.

Pieran stepped into the main hall. The house echoed emptiness. A wave of perfume assailed his nostrils. The aroma was sweet like cut flowers with hints of vanilla and spring wood. It triggered his memory.

“You’re trembling,” Pieran whispered, his words falling lightly upon the nape of Iona’s neck, landing like feathery down. His warm breath lingered there and his fingers climbed up her spine, stopping to knead her swollen muscles. Her breath caught and she involuntarily closed her eyes. “Tension is yours to command, M’lady, not to serve, he urged, his fingers massaging firmly at her temples, now. “Hold it behind your eyes and in your weapon, thus…”

The smell was beginning to fade, taking his memories with it. He missed her. Where was she? Where had she been? At breakfast Alexis said that Iona and Johnny were working on their new case. So of course she was busy. But then, Raven was also working very hard and even she—

Raven. He missed her, too. Maybe she’d be in the library. Surely someone had to be home.

The descent was treacherous, the steps snaking away in varying degrees of resolution. He shook his head to clear the webs clouding his vision and took feeble hold of the rail. Each step was anguish and with each foot he breathed harder and harder, suffering from the exertion of the trip and now as thirsty for air as he was for water. Upon arrival he called out for anyone but was met by the same icy silence as upstairs. His thirst was deep as a desert so he aimed for the lab first.

He held the corner of the lab table for support while another blast of nausea and dizziness resumed its merciless assault. He fought to concentrate, to will the pain away but his decline was getting the better of him and his sufferings were slow to retreat this round. But at least he found water. It tasted salty and when he withdrew the glass from his lips he spied a brownish-pink wisp left behind. His shoulders slumped with despair. “That’s probably not good,” he said.

Raven wasn’t home either; the library was empty. The fireplace was cold as were the lamps and the calm odor suggested that the room had not been used in many hours. Maybe Raven went with Johnny and Iona? That would almost certainly send Dren out too. But did that lead to concern or relief? A foursome meant more boots on the ground which meant the war was heating up. It meant that he should be there. He felt more alone than ever and though he was accustomed to solitude, he would have happily taken the company of a mouse. Where was everyone? If only he knew. If only he hadn’t fallen to Erinyes’ magic. If only he’d been stronger. He fiddled unconsciously with his necklace.

It had been a mistake to go out. His pains were for the most part settling down but that meant more weakness and fatigue. Reaching the top floor again was an exertion he didn’t care to repeat. Back in Africa he fell into bed, bringing with him the writings of Lucius Annaeus Seneca, after pawing a glorious tome from the library. Now, there was a way of life worth subscribing to. Are you feeling sad? You’re a jerk; stop wallowing in self-pity and get on with life. Or don’t. It really doesn’t matter. But of course, if only it were that simple. If only. So many if onlys.

He tried to read more than a few pages but fatigue at last caught up with him. In his final waking light he took survey of his situation. He was alone. He would die soon. And she was only doing what was right: moving on. They all were.

A clang of swords. Arrows licked past Pieran’s head bringing iron death with them. Soldiers by scores of thousands surrounded him in melee. Giant siege weapons blasted fortified positions while cavalry assaulted infantrymen, slaughtering them to a man. Chinese against Arab. The Battle of Talas, 751 AD…
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:17, Sun 05 June 2005.

Chorro turned to Gonzo and in a quiet, but sinister tone said. “Gonzo, you’ve been sticking your pointy nose where it doesn’t belong. I thought we had an understanding.”

Gonzo’s eyes got just a little wider as his mind connected the dots. “I was just doin’ a little fact-finding for a few bucks. I swear if I had known your boss was involved, there’s no way I would’ve done it.”

“Fact-finding for whom?” Chorro took a sudden interest in the fingernails of his left hand. He extracted a switchblade from his coat pocket and with a dramatic *Click* he opened the blade. As he started to clean under his nails with the knife, he continued, “And, exactly how much did you tell them?”

Gonzo hesitated for just a moment. “I didn’t tell them anything at all. They stiffed me, refused to pay. I don’t know who they were. Just somebody who came into the club one night and figured I was the go-to guy for what’s goin’ on in the city.”

Chorro nodded approvingly as he listened. Casually he asked “Can you describe them?”

“Typical goth wannabe. Long, black coat and so much make-up their mom wouldn’t recognize them. They spoke in whispers. Honestly, I’m not even sure if it was a man or a woman that I was dealin’ with. I wish I could be of more help. You know me, I’d tell ya if I knew. And I swear if they ever show their face around here again, you’ll be the first person I call, now that I know it is your business.” Gonzo spoke fast, but casually. It all sounded like the gospel truth.

While Gonzo had his little chat, Alex lounged against the wall, winding a strand of hair around one finger and looking utterly uninterested in the conversation going on in the middle of the room.  Either underneath that sleazy exterior, Gonzo was actually a decent guy, or he was going to hit them up for even more cash once the heavies had left - somehow she thought it was going to be the latter.

Chorro stepped close to Gonzo and spoke in a low voice. “You better be telling me the truth, Rodent. If I find out otherwise, I promise you that your little threesome tonight will be the last pleasurable experience of your life.”

Chorro gave Gonzo an icy stare for several seconds as if he was trying to see the truth or fear in Gonzo’s eyes. Gonzo met his gaze unflinching. Apparently passing the test of wills, Chorro smiled and shook his head. He sauntered over to Alex and plucked her hair from her twirling fingers. He lifted the hair and let it slide through his fingers. He drew his hand down and gently stroked her cheek. “You are a pretty one. My compliments to your taste, Gonzo.”   He looked Alex in the eye as he lifted her chin slightly. “But, alas, you are spoiled goods. Choosing to lay with Fleas and Rats, when you could have had me.”   He stepped away from Alex and said “If you want to raise your status, if I ever decide to go slumming, put the word out on the streets. I will find you.” Chorro then turned and headed for the door. One of his escorts opened it and when they all filed out, he closed it behind him. They were all gone.

Gonzo wheeled to face Alex and Iain. “Alright! Who the Hell are you guys? What have you gotten me involved with? Do you know whose business you are messing in?” He looked positively livid and seemed on the verge of transforming.

Well, that was odd... In all his time, Iain had never actually wanted to kill someone. Sometimes he'd had to, but it had always been a matter of doing the right thing, not finding any other way to fix a situation, or plain simple self defense.

Now, Chorro, he really wanted to see dead.

He vamped out and glared at Gonzo. The snitch was impressively hard to intimidate...

"Mr. Gonzales." He started in a low voice. "You'd think we'd be grateful for not selling us out... Right now, I just want to kill someone, and do it creatively. So, please, state your price and tell me what you know, and I'll be out of your hair. But know this: if the price is not right, I'll have to look for the information otherwise."

Alex was perfectly happy to let Iain take over the conversation with Gonzo; after that...  Offer from Chorro, she was weirded out on on just about every level there was.  Pushing off from the wall, she straighted up, just wanting the information and to be out of here as soon as possible.

Gonzo looked at Iain’s display, “I can do that too,” he said as he transformed partly into a man-sized rodent. “Then we would fight and I would bite your girlfriend, then she could get all hairy once a month and crave cheese.”

Gonzo shifted back to his human form. “You have not answered my questions first. Who are you guys really? Who do you work for? If this is some form of a takeover, you can count me out. You guys can have your little turf war and I will find a hole to wait in till it blows over, then my work can continue as before. The players will change, but my game will be the same.” Gonzo crossed his arms and looked back and forth between Alex and Iain, and waited for a satisfactory reply.

"First of all, Gonzo," Alex waved a hand between her and Iain, glowering all the while at the snitch, "we're not involved.  Men just don't push my buttons.  Second, with my physiology, I very much doubt a bite from you would provoke anything more than a mildly irritating rash."

"To answer your question, we're working for the Riverman's Association.  We're asking about rivers and barges, what exactly did you expect?  Now you have beans, spill them already.  He's not the only one feeling murderous right now."  She finished, with a thumb pointed in Iain's direction.

Gonzo smiled at Alex, “Maybe you just haven’t met the right man yet, My Sweet. I have been told, once you’ve had furry, there’s no going back.” He gave Alex a wink. “But no worries. Live and let live, I say.”

“Now, back to business. The Riverman’s Association? The guys with the yachts, expensive houses, fancy cars, and more money then they could spend in two lifetimes? And here you’ve been trying to muscle poor o’ Gonzo into working for free. I not only gave you reliable information, but I covered your butts, at great personal risk to myself. What do I get for all my trouble? My door is broken and I get roughed up and pinned against a wall. Which I did enjoy, by the way,” he said as he looked at Alex with a twinkle in his eye. “I’m a reasonable businessman. All I ask for is $200 a day, plus expenses. But all I get is threats.” He placed his hand over his heart as if he’d been deeply wounded. “We’re done here. If you come here looking for me again, I will make that phone call to Chorro, just as I promised. Goodnight boys and girls.”

Gonzo made a quick gesture with his hand as he said “Ul Eribu Daltu!”


Alex and Iain felt a prickling sensation on their skin. The room seemed to twist around them and they felt as if they were being tugged backward. It felt a little like when they’d been sucked into one of the vortexes, only this was much quicker. When the sensation of motion stopped, they found themselves standing in the hallway of the club, just outside of where Gonzo’s door should’ve been. The wall before them was solid and there was no indication that a door had ever been there. The crowd could be heard clapping and hollering as the band played in the main room.

"Because the next thing you do is find the nearest tall building to throw yourself off."  Alex muttered darkly under her breath.

When they appeared outside, she glared at the now door-free wall and let out a sigh of frustration.  "I hate this place.  Can we get out of here now?"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:47, Thu 09 June 2005.

"Second that. In fact, third, fourth and fifth." He looked intently at her: "You know, we could have a drink, in a more decent place - though, if you still feel the need to kill some bad guys, we could go for a hunt... Then you couldn't say I never take you anywhere interesting." He grinned.

"Oh, I think tonight has been interesting enough already."  Alex replied, her mood lifting slightly with Iain's grin, even managing a smile in return.  "A drink sounds good, though."

They had stayed on the subject of comic books as they left the restaurant and somehow changed subjects on the way back to Cornerstone, shifting into a heated argument that didn't stop even as the two moved through the mansion, just making it quieter.

"Okay, that may b'true. But that doesn't discount that Independence Day is nothin' more than a remake o'War of the Worlds. Now, fer invasion movies, nothin' beats Signs. Y'not only get th' life on other planets angle, but y'still get th'God angle. Name me a movie that includes bot' in th'same film an' I'll find ya a good Ben Affleck movie."

"'A good Ben Affleck movie'... how's that for contradiction in terms. But here's one with all three items on your list: Dogma," Iona shot back quickly as they climbed up the flights of stairs. "Not even Affleck could screw that one up, though the rest of the cast was brilliant, especially Alan Rickman. I have a thing about Alan Rickman," she added drily. "And I don't know what planet Jay and Silent Bob are from, but it's not the same as the rest of us. So there."  They'd reached the third floor by now.

"Tha' dinna count, yer using a Jay 'n Silent Bob movie, which is one step up from being' jus' a Kevin Smith movie an' not an Affleck movie. David Schwimmer would come out o'a Jay an' Silent Bob movie lookin' like David Duchovny s'long as th'Nootch let 'im piggy back on 'is performance."

Iona faked a shudder. "I'm sorry, you say that like it would be a good thing," she said and wrinkled her nose, then smiled.

Dren paused at the door to her room while Iona turned in the doorway. "Well, this is my stop. I had a great time tonight. We should do this again, soon."

"Y'know, there aren't many people in th'world I can feel this easy wit'." As an after-thought Dren smiled and shrugged. "Take tha' anyway y'want it." He paused as if trying to decide what to do or say next.

Iona just smiled. She wasn't about to read more into his words than what he'd said. So he felt relaxed with her; well, so did she. Not like Pieran made her feel. She nearly frowned at the thought, but pushed it away instead. Not going there tonight. She had another mission, and it seemed like the time was right now.

"I'll take it in the 'gee, that's sweet of you Dren, rybackatcha' way," she said, hand still on the doorknob. "But we both know this wasn't what you had in mind earlier this evening. Why didn't you have all of this fun with Raven?"

Dren didn't know how to respond to that... at first anyway. Finally he realized there was no point hiding anything, especially from Iona. Iona was like Raven in many ways, and different in so many more, but one quality they both shared was that he felt he could trust them, even with his life. It was the kind of trust you didn't start betraying. "Yer right, I wanted t'be with someone else t'night... t'morrow night... every night." Taking a step back he moved toward the wall next to Iona's door setting himself up for quick departure, if needed, before adding, "I guess some things are just against the laws of nature." And as he heard them from his own lips, the words seem to cut even deeper, but he swallowed all emotion as he waited to see how she would respond to his not so subtle confession.

Iona connected the dots. Oh jeez. "Dren, you moron," she groaned, grabbing him by the sleeve and dragging him into the suite. She pushed him down on the couch and loomed over him.

"God," she continued in an exasperated sigh. "You didn't listen very carefully when you eavesdropped on our private conversation, did you?" She started to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace.

"Ya do realize yer talkin' t'an ex-con, 'bout yer right t'privacy." Iona blatantly ignored his feeble objections, not even bothering to point out that she was a telepath, so think about how much privacy he was allowed.

"So this is why you've been all 'woe-is-me'. You don't think Raven wants you." She stopped in front of Dren who shrugged wordlessly. "Well, you're right, she doesn't." Dren rolled back in the chair about to give Iona a lecture on insult to injury when Iona held up a finger, quieting any replies. "Yet. Just shut up and listen..."

Alex bid a goodnight to Iain at the top of the stairs and began walking across the hallway to the suite she shared with Iona, pulling her hair loose as she went.  Smiling to herself, she combed through her locks with her fingers, de-tangling while her mind wandered on the evening.  Despite having to deal with Gonzo and the walking pile of ick that was Chorro, the rest of the evening had been fun.  A lot of fun, if she was going to be honest with herself and that hadn't been something she was expecting.

Fun with a vampire.  Who'd have thought?  For more than half her life she had been taught a variety of interesting ways to dust the things and here she was, reflecting on an enjoyable evening out with one.  Reaching up to remove her choker, Alex's fingers brushed against the scar on her neck, prompting her to pause for a moment.  She knew exactly what a vampire was capable of; if Peter hadn't come charging to her rescue in the nick of time while a vampire had been making an impromptu snack out of her, her friends would have been stood around her grave instead of a hospital bed.

Yet Iain was different; she hadn't been joking when she said she had known he had a soul.  Since arriving at Cornerstone there had been nights when she had sat up, just trying to remind herself of the fact he was a vampire and yet every single time she came back to the simple truth -  he didn't feel like a vampire.  Sure, there were hints of it, in the same way that a violin was a part of a string quartet, but it wasn't the whole, not by a long shot.  She had tried to focus on the fact that a part of him had thought she would make a fine meal, only to remember that another part of him had thought something quite different...

Bah, humbug.  Why was she worrying about all of this anyway?  It wasn't as though she had any choice regarding who she lived and worked with anymore.  If one of the people she was fond of happened to be a vampire with a soul, so be it.  Plus she could always take comfort in the fact that if her former watcher knew, he'd have blown his top.  Though thinking about it, comfort wasn't the right word; sadistic pleasure would probably be a better description.

The thought had sent a sly smile creeping onto her lips, one that was instantly wiped off when she opened the door into the suite and was surprised to spot Iona apparantly lecturing Dren.  What it was about, Alex had no idea, but she immediately felt like she was intruding on something.  Rather than skulk around and try to sneak over to her room, she waved cheerily to the pair, smiling again.  "You're still up?"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:55, Mon 13 June 2005.

Dren look at his non-existant watch, then back at Alex and finally Iona. Standing up quickly, he burshed his clothes as if trying to make himself more presentable before adressing Iona "She's right, I've taken up too much o'yer time." moving "dangerously" close to Iona he simply said "Thank you."

"Think about what I said." Iona replied. "Now scoot, I need my beauty sleep." She smiled, taking the edge off her words.

"Sweet dreams," Dren said as he headed out. Iona had already turned to Alex. "Had a productive night?"

"I think so."  Alex responded, stepping out of Dren's way as he made his way out of the suite.  Eying his departing form for a moment, she looked back to Iona.  "You?"

Glancing at the now closed door, Iona pursed her lips. "Could be."

_{7:54am Wed 20th Oct}

The dark, quiet morning was suddenly shattered. Ka-KA CruuumBOOOOM! The brilliant flash of lightning cast strange shadows into everyone’s’ room. The unstable dry air split as the thunderhead rolled across the landscape. It had snuck up on the sleepy city with a bang, but would soon settle into a light, cool drizzle.

At 8:00 am, all the alarm clocks in the bedrooms once again rang out to announce the day.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:35, Tue 14 June 2005.

Dren didn’t hear his alarm clock go off. In fact, he could not really sleep at all last night. After his long talk with Iona, which happened to follow a great night out, he found himself waking up a 5 in the morning with a mind racing with more thoughts than he felt he was capable of. With nothing better to do, and not being weighed down by a hangover he hit the gym first and the shower second. An hour ago he found himself in the kitchen and was pleased to find a tin of steel cut oats in the pantry, and that’s when the idea hit him. Not like his usual ideas that slowly formed after watching a girl in a pool or on a dance floor, this was the kind of idea that flew out of no where, like a sniper round, and cut straight to the core of his being.

As alarm clocks started to go off, Dren wasn’t even aware of the time. He was letting the pot of Irish oatmeal cool next to a plate of sliced tomatoes, while he focused on several servings of eggs and bacon to go with the various sausages he was keeping warm in the oven. It wasn’t a traditional Irish breakfast, that would involve breakfast puddings, but it was as close as he could manage. Lifting his head like a curious cat, Dren he listened for movement for a split second, then returned to fixing the meal which he had started with just he and two others in mind – but something just made him add on a few more servings… even if it did risk ruining his bad boy reputation.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:13, Tue 14 June 2005.

Even though it had been a late evening with Johnny, Raven was still up at around 6 am. After showering and dressing she made her way to the small room behind the library. She wanted to go over her notes from the musical bar crawl that she and the med student had experienced, but that would have to wait for later. There was something else Raven wanted to do first.

She pulled a large phone book out of the desk drawer and opened it to a page where she had placed a bookmark. The listings were for antique stores. She pulled a list out of her pocket and compared it to the names in the book. Raven drew a large X through all the names on her list and then copied the names, addresses, and phone numbers for several new stores onto the piece of paper. She flipped to another section of the phone book, and wrote down even more names and addresses. After returning the phone book to the desk drawer, Raven slipped the note paper back into the pocket of her jeans.

She gathered a book from the library along with one of the books they’d brought back from the Solerite temple, plus Ninti’s journal, and spread them all out on the desk. She would look from one book to the next, making notes in her own notebook. After a little while, she ripped a piece of paper from her notebook and made another list. This paper was also slipped into the pocket of her jeans. She continued reading the books in front of her. “This just isn’t making sense,” she muttered. A sudden clap of thunder drew her attention to the window and the rain outside. It was going to be a gray and dismal day. It matched her frustrated mood. “Coffee,” she said as she grabbed her tall mug. “All I need is some strong coffee, then it will all make sense”.

She headed down the stairs towards the kitchen and was greeted by a medley of wonderful smells before she reached the kitchen door. Stopping in the doorway, she took in the scene of Dren and his handiwork. “You’re… making breakfast?” she asked. She’d heard him come in late the night before and figured he’d be nursing a hangover for a few more hours. “And you’ve put my Yemen Mocha coffee on.” She smiled as she looked at the pot brewing on the counter.

"Yer jus' suprised t'see me up b'fore th'sun." Dren whipped the current eggs around to keep them from sticking to the pan, "I think I've figured it out." turning away from the stove he pulled several plates from a cabnet "Every time I 'ad a 'angover, I was wakin' up t'it. So this time, I jus' dinna go back t'sleep." back to the stove, he was serving the eggs on a large serving plate and getting ready to pull the sausage from the oven. There was a part of Dren that wanted to skip the mit and just grab the 250 degree pan with his bare hand and feel the flesh on his fingers blister and inflame than ask the next question, but that would be too obvious. "So 'ow was yer night?"

Ouch.

“I actually had a surprisingly good time,” Raven said as she stepped further into the room. “I learned new and interesting things. For example, did you know that Johnny sings and plays the piano? In fact, he composes his own music. He really can be quite the gentleman, when he tries. What about you, how was you’re evening? I got in late, but I still beat you home.” She glanced around the kitchen. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Johnny's night and morning passed in a rather uneventful manner. Fulfilling Maslow's primal needs wasn't much to write letters back home about. He strolled into the kitchen at an early, yet comfortable hour, sadly to late to bask in the unheard compliments.

   "Mornin'," he adressed noone in particular. "Thanks for last night, Raven. Anybody else do anything fun?" He critically looked through the refrigerator, shaking his head. After a short while, he closed it, still just as empty-handed.

Dren didn't know what to tell Raven, in truth he wanted her to sit back and let him wait in her hand a foot... but that would be obvious. Thankfully, Johnny broke up the silence just before it turned unconfortable.

"Iona an' I went out fer a bite... or two." Dren said casually as he pointed to the food and explained to Johnny "It's an Irish breakfast... self serve." as if to start the line he handed Raven the first plate and motioned for her to help herself.

“Good morning, Johnny.” Raven said as their resident doctor walked in. “The pleasure was mine last night, thank you.”

She looked at Dren as she accepted the plate from him. Something about him seemed different, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. “So, you and Iona went out?” She wanted to say, that’s interesting, but decided to keep that thought to herself.

Ka-KA CruuumBOOOOM!

The explosion tore through the open door of the porch and into Pieran’s bedroom. He sat up with a sharpness mirroring the previous night, like a bad habit, and like the previous night, he at once regretted the move. The enduring echo of thunder filled him with fast dread and he was too tired to prepare himself for more. His dream had played itself on and off throughout his sleep -if that was the word for it- and the horrible execution of Men Jiao caught in Pieran’s throat, aching almost like a phantom pain. But another of Thor’s bright announcements suddenly charged the air, substituting Pieran’s sore throat with newer images…

The memories obliterated in the same instant they arrived, driven away by the chasing thunder and an accompanying blast of murderous pain. He forced just enough presence to muffle his scream into a pillow. He didn’t want to alarm anyone –assuming anyone had returned home.

Lightning continued to flash and he turned away, rolling out of bed. As if he wasn't sick enough, now he had that to contend with also. His breathing became labored as much from an uncontrollable, sweaty fear, as from the waves of pain rising and falling like hideous, mocking laughter. The laughter was joined by the nagging screech of his alarm clock, whose mysteriously renewed existence continued to perplex and vex him. He cut off the switch, wondering what in blazes he was being summoned for. He’d go, but he needed to wait until after the storm passed. He just wasn't strong enough in his present condition to suppress the hell and screaming horror those piercing thunderbolts found within him.

Yanked out of a deep and pleasant sleep by the thunder; Alex was about to turn over and doze off again when she spotted the time.  Yawning, she hauled herself up, showered and dressed and wandered downstairs to the kitchen.  Bidding the assembled a good morning, she opened the refridgerator and pulled out a carton of fruit juice, pouring herself a glass before leaning back against the worktop to drink it.

   "Oooh, Irish," Johnny said, in a voice very easily confused with his slightly drier, ironic one. His now unveiled appetite did speak for itself, though. In between eggs and sausage, he got a select few garbled words out: "Hate to bring up business..." He stopped short to bid Alex a good morning. "...bring up business at breakfast, but..."

   His eyes still lingering on Alex, he saw her open the refrigerator. "Hey, juice, where'd...I looked...pass it over, will you, please?" he said. "Well, Raven and I basically found out that all remotely happy music will be twisted into things you usually hear at Slayer concerts, within some radius of city centre. It makes zip sense, but heck, this is some nice sausage."

The enticing smell of Dren’s cooking wafted up the Grand staircase. It snuck through the keyholes and under the doors. In contrast to the weather outside, the whole house has a warm sensation. It beckoned all the members of the manor to join together in the kitchen to enjoy the morning meal.

A freshly showered Iain entered the kitchen, finding what legends would have called "a gathering of heroes". Smiling at the assembled party, he went for the smaller refrigerator with the special content, filling a cup out of sight.

"Good morning everyone, hope you had a pleasant night. I sure did." He winked at Alex.

He sat down and took a sip from his mug, and cleaned his lips with a napkin: "So: good news, on any front? We had quite an interesting evening..."

Dren moved away from the stove and food while handing Alex a plate and holding two others and asking Johnny "S'what did y'two end up doin'? Drvin' 'round all night an' hittin' th' karaoke bars?" it was more than an in passing interest in the experiment that inspired that question.

Raven filled her plate with food, and then took a seat at the counter on one of the barstools. “This area has quite a variety of watering holes. We certainly saw more than our fair share of local color.” Raven sent a quick smile in Johnny’s direction. “At least we managed to avoid dance clubs, with their flashing lights and crowded floors.”

“He’s right about the music. Our rough estimate is that we’re looking at about a 10 mile radius centered near the Arch.”

"So, 'ow is th'Arch connected t'all this?" Dren asked, still giving room for those who were still serving.

As the waft of breakfast reached the Lab, Iona's head jerked up from the microscope. Was it...?

Seconds later she came bounding into the kitchen, lab coat and purple scarf fluttering behind her. "Who's making...?" She zeroed in on Dren and the vast array of food behind him. "Dren, did you--?" He shrugged and silently handed her one of the plates in his hands.

"Aw, you sweetie!" Iona squealed, grabbing the offering and giving him a brilliant smile as a thank-you. In a matter of seconds, she had arranged two eggs, sunny side up, slices of tomatoes and a sausage, making a smiley face on the huge plate.

"I can't believe you remembered this," she said, admiring the dish for a moment before quickly and precisely cutting up the sausage and starting to eat every other piece, making it look like a toothed smile on the face.

The stunned silence in the kitchen made Iona lift her gaze from the tomato ears she was fashioning with a practised hand. "Oh, morning... all..." She blushed, realizing two things: one, they weren't alone; and two, she had probably interrupted them all with her insane breakfast preparations. Oh, crap.

Iain blinked twice, a little stunned.

Talk about focus...

Then he cleared his throat: "Right, um... We were saying. Do you have any idea what could be causing this? Because we found something, but this music... Curse, for lack of a better word, doesn't seem to fit anywhere in the puzzle."

"Well, what did y'find?" Dren asked, trying to direct the conversation while loading up his plate.

"Apparantly someone is syphoning off the water, after a legitimate bid to build a pipeline from the Great Lakes was blocked.  They steal water from the Mississippi and if it gets low, dams from lake Michigan can be opened to refill it."  Alex shrugged, passing Johnny the carton of juice.

"That's about all we could find out for certain, though our contact had a visit from a vampire called Chorro while we were there, who seems to represent whoever's behind or involved in this; and he was not happy people had been poking around."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:08, Thu 16 June 2005.

Iain took another sip from his mug. "I think he was a demon of some kind... They usually bear little respect for vampires, which would explain why he liked me so much. I think we might be able to find something about him in Cornerstone's archives: it looked like he was part of some kind of Family - as in, organized crime - and if he's a major player there might be records on him."

"He was a vampire."  Alex replied, before helping herself to a serving of Dren's breakfast and taking a seat at the table.

Pieran arrived last, wearing his caftan for ease of getting dressed. Dark circles ringed his eyes that had once been blue but now appeared almost gray, red, and yellow. His cheeks were sunken and his complexion ghostly. His left arm appeared withered and he moved it with halting effort, as though it didn’t belong to him.

“Forgive me. The journey down here is…” He stopped. No more excuses. “Please carry on,” he said, pulling a chair into a corner and dropping down into it. He didn’t look much for conversation and had nothing to add; he’d only come to listen as he did wish to know what was new on the case.

“I have no idea what the connection might be between the vanishing water and the sad songs that seem to be taking over the downtown area. They might be two completely unrelated things. Do you think your contact might have info relating to the music mystery?”

“Good morning, Pieran.” Raven said as she saw him enter. She wanted to go to him and offer to help him to a chair, but she knew he wouldn’t let her. “Would you like something to eat? Dren created quite the smorgasbord for us.”

"Did yer contact tell ya what they needed th'water for, by chance?" Dren had set his food aside as he fixed another plate, he was interested in this Chorro person. It struck him as a family name, something used to indicate imporance through lineage. If he was a vampire, it was possible he was more of a threat than the random, rabid dog that was your ordinary vampire... or Iain. He fixed a plate fer Pieran explaining "Don't make m'throw it away."

Alex smiled a good morning to Pieran, then tucked into her breakfast.  Pausing, she glanced across at him again, an idea crossing her mind.  Maybe she'd look into that later.  However, Raven had asked her a question.  "I don't think Gonzo wants to see either of us for a while.  He seemed pretty peeved about who we may have upset by having him nose around."

Turning to Dren, she answered his question.  "No.  Just that there was a long-standing contract between some states...  Texas, New Mexico and Nevada, I think, and Michigan for water."

Dren nodded "Give him a day, an show up wit' a bottle o'Jack an' $200. It's th'snitch equivalent of a 'Thank You Card'."


Dren knitted his brow, "That was it? Did y'get anythin' useful?"

"What Gonzo would want as a thank you is something I'm not prepared to give."  Alex replied flatly.



Leaning back in her chair, she frowned as well.  "I don't know.  Let's compare it to what information you've found out so far."

Dren laughed a bit while collecting his oats "It's a game, y'ave t'jus' look available, but ne'er be available an' give 'im a couple 'undred as a conselation prize." pausing with the sudden idea that Alex hadn't even see The Sopranos he cut to the chase "'ow much did y'pay him?" it was a vital question. Too much money would make them look like whales that the snitch could milk dry, but too little would be an insult closing that stream of information - which, as far as Dren was conserned, was the only real source of information worth paying for.

"I'm so glad you find it amusing."  Alex shot back.  "What we did find out was a freebie.  Then Chorro and his goons turned up and after that Gonzo didn't feel much like talking anymore.  Kicked us out with some magical mumbo-jumbo and hid the entrance to his little den of sin as well."