Eyes watched Marianne, careful and alert, now.  She thought she saw de Vega; but it was hard to tell, out in the marketplace.  She made it to the hotel room, where an upset maid was looking miserably at the devastation therein and close to tears.

Her bed had been ripped apart; every stick of furniture broken and torn up, and her luggage was gone, all of it.  The map she had hidden, of course, was also gone.  Basil was gone, as was his valet, their rooms already rented out to an elderly couple from Massachusetts.

Her surprise lasted only a second before anger took over. But underneath it all was confusion and hurt. Why would Basil take all her possessions? And her writer's diary?! Even the loss of the map did not upset her that much.

If Basil had wanted the map, all he had ever had to do was ask her for it. Why bring her all the way to Brazil for something he could have acquired at considerably less expense and trouble back in England? It was odd, to say the least.

Unless... Unless...

Was that De Vega she had seen hanging about the marketplace?

Basil and his valet did seem to have disappeared, but what if he had simply had to leave in a hurry and had expected her to catch up?

She looked around for some sort of clue amid the destruction of her room. Anything to take her mind off the fact that she was effectively stranded in a foreign country with only the few coins in her purse to her name.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:39, Wed 07 Sept 2005.

McCurdy ambled on over to where Gruber was sitting with his coffee and burrito, and stuffed his hands into his pockets, looking around at the village. First time in Brazil... not impressed.

He waited for the pirates to finish their bargain with the hun, wondering how long the redhead would live beyond this day. It would have been a sight better if she knew how to listen instead of talk. Might have been handy to have along. She sounded intelligent, if not a bit shy on the common sense.

Liza on the other hand seemed a tough ol' bird; could probably shoot her with a shotgun and she'd spit the pellets back at ya after she coughed'em up. It would probably be better if she had some different clothes though.


He sidled on over to her side and leaned over toward her ear, looking at Hawksmoore. "You think maybe you should get an outfit more suited to runnin 'round a jungle...?"

Marianne's room had been taken apart in an extreme manner; she noted that every possible hiding place for something small had been thoroughly, professionally examined.  The maid, still looking upset, fled the scene, unable to figure out where to begin cleaning the mess, and while Marianne was picking through the rubble, a man in a suit came hurrying to the room.  "Miss," he said, in gently accented English. "There is a message for you; I am afraid this room is no longer yours."  He held out a folded square of paper to her.

Hornsby ambled over to the Hun and addressed him in German, while McCurdy spoke to Hawksmoore.  Liza, in her blue dress and little leather sandals, was most certainly not dressed for a jungle expedition.  She beamed at McCurdy as he spoke to her. "I'm sure I shall manage," she said. "The native girls wear dresses, don't they ?  But if it comes to that, I shall acquire a suitable outfit."   Hawksmoore was apparently still happy to be rid of ONE of the women, and perhaps considering how to get rid of the second one, for he was sitting idly and smiling to himself...with a sort of 'plotting' look to his eyes.

It was clear that the person who had torn her room apart had known that she had the map, or at least that she might have it since she was traveling with Basil. Assuming it wasn't Basil, that it. If it was De Vega... Marianne didn't want to think about what he might do if he had the map. What a mess!

Marianne took the message and immediately opened it. Finally, a clue of some sort?

Brother Clary watched silently as the redhead stormed off, apparently oblivious that there were larger, Armageddon-level issues at stake here.  He had no mind to kill anyone, but he also knew that he had to recover the cross and defeat this demon.  Billy Chang told him so, and Hornsby more or less confirmed it.

Now he was mixed up with an Arkie P. I. who said he was looking for him, and some kid who sure didn't act or talk like one.

This was the first time he began to have some doubts as to this whole escapade.  But then he pushed them aside.  Even if nothing else made sense, he had to get his Bible back.

Seeing Gruber again, he grinned, and tipped his hat silently in acknowledgement.  While the others negotiated the end-around by plane, the black-clad preacher from Texas bowed his head and offered a prayer for wisdom and strength for the task that lay ahead.

McCurdy sighed as he looked around the port area, watching the small-time fisherman and the locals going about their hum-drum lives. It was a bit more interesting that watching paint dry on the side of a barn, but not much.

"I don't reckon the natives are gonna be doin' what we're gonna be doin, Ms. Waters. You sure you wouldn't be better off helpin' Ms. Trevors? She needs help. She don't take advice very well and that could get her hurt when the pace picks up. I don't see her as backing away from this. And it's only going to get hotter as we go. Whatever you two have done up to now..." He shrugged.

"It ain't gonna be nothin' compared to the storm that's comin'. Take my word..."

The note was written in a flowing hand, with a fountain pen.

 "Your services are no longer needed, Miss Trevors.  Basil Rose."

Well, at least he had told her.  Then a smooth, Spanish-accented voice sent a chill along her spine; without her knowing it, de Vega had crept up and was standing behind her. He was whole, had acquired a new shirt - this one made of black silk - and was smiling a devil's smile.  "Ah, my sweet English senorita," he said, in a tone that sent a shiver along her soul, for the sheer evil hidden in the smooth words. "I am so glad I have found you.  Tell me, did Ringrose tell you the way to the Fountain ?"

--------------------------------------------

At the docks, Liza Waters was placing her hands on her slim hips and giving Jack McCurdy an amused look.  "You shan't 'ditch me', I believe that is the term, so easily, Mr. McCurdy, though I note a noble effort on your part and that of Mr. Hawksmoore.  Someday I shall tell you of the adventures I've had, and you may decide for yourself soon enough if I am equal to this task."

Hawksmoore rolled his eyes at this and sighed loudly, then yelped as Liza Waters clipped him along the ear.  "Manners." she said, in a severe tone that reminded McCurdy of his mother.  Meanwhile, the Hun and Hornsby were chatting amiably about this and that, and notably NOT getting down to business.  "I SAY," Liza then went to interrupt them, "We do need to get going, do we not ?"  With no further ado she flounced into the plane itself, before either of them could say anything, and instead of the earsplitting shriek they expected upon her sighting the large snake that was Gruber's pet, there was a delighted, "Oh, isn't it pretty ?  May I pet it ?"

Marianne frowned at the note, completely confused and beginning to get angry. Why would Basil suddenly decide he didn't need her services? On any other day she would appreciate the irony. Hadn't she been contemplating leaving his company, having resolved to have nothing to do with his schemes? But she would never leave him stranded in a foreign country with none of his belongings.

How like a pirate!

She was about to go down to the village and see what could be done about the situation, when De Vega spoke up behind her. She tensed and spun around, feeling sick inside and furious beyond words as she saw the man standing there nonchalantly.

Captain Hook. The stray thought came from nowhere. He fit the character to a T - or was that the other way around? She would marvel at it, except that the evil this man was capable of left her cold. "You vile murderer!" she accused in a low, angry tone. Her eyes flashed and her hands closed tightly around the little box Liza gave her. "You are looking well. I wish I could say the same about that good samaritan doctor."

"What makes you think Basil Ringrose, a rotter through and through, would confide in the traveling companion he left behind without a thought?" she continued furiously - though her feelings were partially directed at Basil this time. "And if he did, would any word out of his mouth be the truth?"
This message was last edited by the player at 14:07, Sun 18 Sept 2005.

McCurdy found himself smirking at Ms. Waters. He wasn't quite sure he had accepted her as cousin yet, but he was beginning to entertain the idea. And not mind it.

He moved up to where Hawksmoore was and stuffed his hands in his pockets, still looking at Waters and the plane. "Wish you didn't look like a kid," he said. "When you scowl it makes yur face pout like a baby that got its sucker jerked outta its mouth." McCurdy grinned crookedly, eyeing Hawksmoore sideways. "Don't guess there's anything we can do about that though.

"Or about the redhead. You know if she survives long enough, she's going to pop up in our way again. That got me to thinking. I may not care one way or the other about her -- and she would actually be more of a hindrance than a help -- but I know I can't sit by and let no one hurt a lady if I can help it. And you know as well as I do that this Ringrose fella will probably try to use her against us if given the chance..."

He looked at Hawksmoore directly then. "You seem to know these fellas pretty good, De Vega and the other. Any idea what we can do to prevent that from happening?"

At that, the lanky Texas preacher looked up from his prayers.  "I'm with you, McCurdy.  My Daddy and Momma always taught me to look out fer the ladies, and even though that redhead spat some pretty mean fire my ways, I cain't stand by and let her git hurt."

McCurdy glanced at the preacher and slowly nodded his head in agreement once or twice. "Personally, I don't cotton to the idea of her being out there somewhere to be used against us." He seemed to think about it some more and looked at both the preacher and Hawksmoore.

"I wonder if she'd take a job if we hired her..."

The basis for Peter Pan favored McCurdy with a sour look, Hawksmoore's stock in trade.  "Yes, thank you so very much," was the bitter response. "How d'y'think I've felt for 400 years ?"  At McCurdy's comment on the redhead, he rolled his eyes.  "Ringrose's gone ahead," he said. "He doubtless recalls the shortcut.  De Vega, may the devil he serves take him, is behind us, I think.  He has never failed to get to the Fountain on time though, I grant him that...but we don't reach neutral ground for some time.  He'd cheerfully chop me into bits if he had the opportunity."  And McCurdy guessed that the lad would do the same to de Vega.

At Brother Clary's comment, and McCurdy's response, the boy uttered an oath.  "S'teeth !  I am not thy bloody servant !"  But he got to his feet, scowling mightily, his boots pointed toward the town again.  Apparently there was some sense of honour to the youth, albeit a pirate's code.  Liza was now telling the other men what to do, something she seemed to be able to handle well enough - rather like being whipped with a pretty silk and pearl bullwhip.

Hawksmoore set off, this time keeping off the main streets, and being much more careful to look before he went.  McCurdy didn't see anything amiss, and Hawksmoore's attention was taken by a disturbance by the church - two women and a man talking to the old preacher - but Brother Clary saw a flash of red hair heading down a side-alley near the hotel, with a man in black.

----------------------------------------------------

"Ah, Senorita, if only you understood that Mr. Ringrose had done you a good turn," de Vega said in that silky voice. He didn't seem to even register the insults. "Now you will come with me; we have a long journey to make."  He seized her arm, snake-fast, and hauled her from the room, propelling her along in front of him.  He was strong, surprisingly so, and he was forcing her along as if her protests were inconsequential.  Just as he dragged her around the corner into a narrow alleyway, she saw someone familiar - Sebastian Hawksmoore, and it could be those two Americans with him.
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:36, Sun 25 Sept 2005.

"Hang on," Brother Clary muttered, squinting.  He grabbed up his shotgun and began carefully but quickly making his way in the general direction of where he saw the flash of red.

"Hang on, what," McCurdy said as Clary skipped off on a tangent. At the sight of the shotgun making an appearance, he spit the cigarette out of his mouth and started looking around very carefully.

Brother Clary set off toward where he thought he had seen something; Hawkmoore was drifting towards the Church, not really paying any attention to either of them, and McCurdy was looking around.

GM:  Brother Clary: roll spot hidden, % die, use the die roller up at the top of the screen please.

It was amazing, really, that they had not managed to attract any attention so far, for Marianne was kicking and screaming for all she was worth. Dignified it was not. Nor, apparently, was it effective. But she wasn't about to let herself be dragged off either.

She remembered Liza's instructions and pointed the box directly at her would-be kidnapper, opening it sharply.

Hopefully, putting a hole in the man would slow him down enough for her to get free.

Marianne struggled and shrieked, and went for the odd little box that Liza had given her.  She snapped the lid open sharply, and yelped again as it practically exploded in her hand - sending a small bullet into the side of de Vega, and incidentally, ruining his expensive silk shirt.  He swore and threw her away from him, but she could tell he was not much injured...and soon to be very, very angry with her.

But the report of the concealed weapon did echo, enough to alert McCurdy and Clary to the sound of it.  They both hear clearly what sounded like a shot from a small firearm, perhaps a .25 calibre, in the direction Brother Clary was headed.

She had opened the box without knowing what was inside, simply hoping. It had done the job adequately, though if the expression on his face was any indication, she was very likely going to end up like the good doctor.

But in the meantime - she was free!

Marianne didn't wait around to find out the results of her actions as she ran back down the alley the way they came. She wanted to put as much distance between them, as fast as she could.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:41, Wed 28 Sept 2005.

McCurdy looked after Hawksmoore for a moment and then the sound of the shot snapped his head back around. Before he knew it, he had filled his hand with one of his .45’s and was walking much faster after Brother Clary, his eyes still scanning every nook and cranny. While keeping his eyes after the Texas preacher, he called out to Hawksmoore to let him know he and the preacher were diverging from the straight and narrow.

Then he quickened his pace, heading for the alley from which the shot had come. Gunfights might have been a way of life down here in this country, for all he knew, but things had taken such a turn to the south recently - in luck as well as sanity - he decided he wasn’t going to take chances on anything being normal any more...

The sound of the shot gave a greater sense of purpose to the black-clad preacher's pace.  He quickly checked once again to make sure that a shell was loaded and the magazine was full.  He wasn't quite sure what was going to happen next, but he wanted to be ready.

He adjusted his course toward where the shot came from and even more carefully and quickly than before moved to the spot.

His earlier words floated back to him:  he was raised to respect all ladies and protect them from harm, and he was planning to make his momma and daddy proud.

McCurdy shouted to Hawksmoore, who paid him no heed, and continued his drift towards the church.  The two men ran towards the alleyway, and saw a small, determined figure running towards them - the red-headed woman, Marianne Trevors; she in turn saw the preacher and the private eye, heading towards her, in haste, about forty feet away.

They did not see de Vega - but there was no telling what sort of tricks an evil near-immortal might have up his black silk sleeve.

McCurdy had his pistol tucked against his chest. He slowed when he saw Trevors running at them, his eyes darting around the alleyway. Even up the walls. “You all right?” he said to the woman, keeping his eyes shuffling around them in a tight circle. “Somebody shootin’ at you?”

Marianne seemed less overjoyed than horrified to see the two men coming up the alley. "It's De Vega! Run!"

She was evidently determined to follow her own advice, and stopped only when she reached the gun-toting pair. Her heart was racing and her breath coming in gasps. "I shot him...and got away... But he's very... very angry..."

Her fingers clutched Liza's box tightly and her eyes searched the alleyway nervously as she spoke.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:48, Thu 29 Sept 2005.

“Damn! I hate being right all the time!” McCurdy took Trevors by the arm with his free hand, trying to be gentlemanly about it, and turned with her to leave the alley. “Padre, I trust you have the rear,” he said as he led them to the street. “We’re headin’ for the church!”

If de Vega poked his head out from any direction, he was going to get plugged by seven lead bullets in short order. Whether it stopped him or not!