tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40565402011-06-08T02:17:49.174-04:00fourth pointA play by email game gone blogging...Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comBlogger1211100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-1106345492289651692005-01-21T17:10:00.000-05:002005-01-21T17:11:32.290-05:00Pen, you shoulda bought a keg. Or ten. We don't have time to go see any dead bodies. Beer run!
ravennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-1106115158626472492005-01-19T01:09:00.000-05:002005-01-19T01:12:38.626-05:00"What do you want from me? It's been a long night and I didn't want to run out."Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-1105745547592589332005-01-14T18:32:00.000-05:002005-01-14T18:32:27.593-05:00Pete, quit hogging the beer!
ravennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-1067452736707061282003-10-29T13:38:00.000-05:002003-12-24T23:26:38.246-05:00(Alex is not reading the posts, that's what Alex's doing...)
Alex begins reading Shiva's dossier. (duh)
After a moment, she realizes she's being foolish and asks Elliott for a scrap of paper and a pen. Given these, she copies the number from the card to the scrap of paper. Next, she goes into the bathroom and finds a nice piece of blank wall. There she scrawls, "For a good time, call" and the Alexandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07940150831556600806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-1064529954241092242003-09-25T18:43:00.000-04:002003-09-25T18:45:53.973-04:00Yeah, that's kinda what I figured. I finish the rest of my beer then get the full six pack out of the fridge. "Let's go," I say to Pen. Drink up, Pete. It's gonna be a long night.ravennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-1064454334044266632003-09-24T21:45:00.000-04:002003-09-24T21:45:33.806-04:00So, what is Alex doing now that Donovan's left her at the bar with Shiva's dossier?Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-1064454270994403062003-09-24T21:44:00.000-04:002003-09-24T21:44:30.746-04:00Pen opens and closes her mouth quickly, like a fish, and all she can say is a half-stammered "okay" as she grabs hold of her drink and turns for the door. She's definitely worried, and you get the feeling that she got nowhere near the answer she wanted, but you can also tell that she's not going to push--yet.Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-1063495107560381352003-09-13T19:12:00.000-04:002003-09-13T19:18:27.560-04:00I put the beers down on the counter, open all three and hand her one. I chug down about half of another one.
"I don't know what you want to be wrong about, but if it'll make you feel better, I'll tell you you're wrong," I say. "Let's not jump to any conclusions before we get over there."ravennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-1063491152436648332003-09-13T18:12:00.000-04:002003-09-13T18:12:32.446-04:00"I mean that they've been attacked, and they think that the local Nephs may be the ones involved, but the attackers were new faces to them so they couldn't be sure. They've asked us--you--to come over and verify their suspicions..."
Pen pales slightly as she realizes what she's just said, then unmuffles the cellphone and whispers a couple of words into the receiver. She hangs up but doesn't Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-1063487727032563372003-09-13T17:14:00.000-04:002003-09-13T17:15:27.036-04:00"What do you mean 'what's left of them'?" I ask, grabbing three beers.ravennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-1063478385153174422003-09-13T14:39:00.000-04:002003-09-13T14:39:45.070-04:00There is indeed beer here. Pete looks pleased.
Pen follows you into the kitchen, with a worried look as she verbally nods into the cellphone. After a couple of moments she pulls the phone from her ears and muffles the receiver.
"We need to go. The Hermetics have requested our presence--well--what's left of them, anyway. Oh, and grab me one on your way out? I may need it."
Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-1061744193354555912003-08-24T12:56:00.000-04:002003-08-24T12:56:33.330-04:00I go to the refrigerator and check for beer while she answers the phone.ravennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-1061670354767110002003-08-23T16:25:00.000-04:002003-08-23T16:25:54.770-04:00Pen thinks for a moment, and you can tell that the gears are moving. Fast.
"Hmmph. I wish I had any good ones. Under 'normal' circumstances, I'd suggest infiltration and destruction from within. However, this is the Nephandi we are talking about, so the dangers involved would be too much to risk, even for you. So, that's...um...oh!"
As she has her moment of revelation, her cellphone rings.Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-1059698596493038912003-07-31T20:43:00.000-04:002003-07-31T20:43:16.336-04:00“That’s a good question. And no, I don’t have a good answer. Any suggestions?”ravennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-1059612200838187822003-07-30T20:43:00.000-04:002003-07-30T20:43:20.796-04:00Pen almost raises an eyebrow when you mention the shovel, but otherwise remains stoic.
"So, what are you going to do now?"Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-1058302554684103282003-07-15T16:55:00.000-04:002003-07-15T19:49:49.416-04:00(narrative lump. the only thing pen doesn't get is my plan to get to timothy. which means, yes, she gets to hear about the shovel.)ravennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-1058291052029043232003-07-15T13:44:00.000-04:002003-07-15T13:44:11.863-04:00"Yes I believe that will be enough for now. Stay in touch."
Donovan steps off the stool and leaves a wad of money for Elliott. Before you realize what is happening, he is gone, your ears popping with the sounds of the bar rushing back to fill whatever void he had created.Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-1058272385610105892003-07-15T08:33:00.000-04:002003-07-15T08:33:05.540-04:00Alex accepts the card, shoving it into a jeans pocket. She smiles brittlely. "Are we done now?"Alexandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07940150831556600806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-1058232262009487642003-07-14T21:24:00.000-04:002003-07-14T21:24:21.976-04:00Donovan lets out a frustrated sigh, though he never breaks from the relaxed smile on his face he's had since you noticed him.
"Not as yet. But that is, of course, where you come in." He hands you a card with a phone number as he continues. "Now, we're pretty sure Ashton can find Lancaster and--more importantly--that group of darksiders he's hooking up with. However, as you've probably Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-1058231456124572222003-07-14T21:10:00.000-04:002003-07-14T21:10:56.140-04:00Shiva, you walk in just as Pen hangs up the cell.
"Well, you're early." Her body language is all but screaming "okay, spill. Now."Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-917931112003-04-01T15:56:00.000-05:002003-04-01T15:56:29.860-05:00Alex grins reflexively, stiffling a giggle. Crap, this guy's no joke. At least he's not...enhanced. What's with the noise? "I don't do the psychotic thing, that's Shiva and - what did you call him? Lancaster? - that's their thing. And you should get out more - watch some movies, you know?" She moves her arms into the "Trinity pose." They drop to her side a moment later and she coughs. "Do you Alexandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07940150831556600806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-916315752003-03-29T22:23:00.000-05:002003-03-29T22:23:16.936-05:00Guess that's harmless. She does that every once in a while. I go inside.ravennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-915838972003-03-28T22:43:00.000-05:002003-03-28T22:43:53.140-05:00Pen's sitting with her back to the window, and it looks like she's talking on a cell phone.Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-913906312003-03-25T23:24:00.000-05:002003-03-25T23:24:01.373-05:00I stop and just watch for a while, just breathing and wondering what I'm going to say and half expecting something bad to happen before I get inside. It's been a hell of a week, and it's only Wednesday. I'm starting to doubt that I'll make it to that football game with the tiny shred of sanity I have left.
What is Pen doing?ravennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-913870182003-03-25T22:19:00.000-05:002003-03-25T22:19:35.873-05:00Shiva, you make it to the apartment, and you see a light through the living room window. Though the drapes are open, Pen's form is silhouetted by the light.Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-913866782003-03-25T22:14:00.000-05:002003-03-25T22:14:00.123-05:00"Hmph. Your friend does the psychotic thing better. Fewer non-sequitors. Anyway..."
Alex, the only non-organic stuff on Donovan are his clothes and his watch, which chirps the moment you start your scan. He glances at the watch, then takes another sip of his drink. You can't tell if he's smiling or glaring. You can tell that the room has gone so silent so quickly that your ears pop.
"I'llMidnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-903352132003-03-07T21:38:00.000-05:002003-03-07T21:38:35.013-05:00I pause, take a breath and continue to walk leisurely in the direction of Pen's apartment.ravennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-902744412003-03-06T21:09:00.000-05:002003-03-06T21:14:28.000-05:00Alex starts at the revelation Donovan works for "the other side." She darts glances around nervously - the door, the backdoor, the bartender, the other patrons - before refocusing on Donovan. "Lieutenant, your men are already dead," she mumbles and smiles weakly. She attempts to regain her composure: "I didn't know they let Bellevue patients handle scissors, but the labor costs must be less than Alexandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07940150831556600806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-902684222003-03-06T19:09:00.001-05:002003-03-06T19:09:50.576-05:00The insanely dressed man takes a sip of his drink before responding.
“I get this special-made, you know,” he says, tugging at one of his sleeves. “Anyway, the name’s Donovan, and if you haven’t guessed by now: a, I work for the other side and b, I was the one that gave Ashton that folder in the first place. Now, let me ask you something. What has he told you? About Lancaster, that is.”
Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-902683942003-03-06T19:09:00.000-05:002003-03-06T19:09:25.233-05:00“Um. Probably. Nobody’s chasing us.” Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-898802042003-02-27T22:55:00.000-05:002003-02-27T22:55:16.700-05:00"Pete, do you think it's safe to stop running now?"ravennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-887142552003-02-07T12:25:00.000-05:002003-02-07T12:25:29.240-05:00Alex continues looking at the dossiers. She casts her mind back to the bar fight, trying to remember as much as she can about Lancaster. Shiva is seriously messed up. Well, how sane can you be if give yourself the nickname of the Hindu god of destruction? You know, if I were bloodthirsty enough, maybe I could convince Shiva to hunt down Ram while he's on this little vendetta of his.
She almost Alexandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07940150831556600806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-886250282003-02-05T21:49:00.000-05:002003-02-05T21:49:02.476-05:00"Confucius can kiss my ass. And I know she'll read it. She's supposed to. It should keep her distracted long enough for me to get back to Pen, and after she's done with it, hopefully, she'll decide she doesn't want anything to do with me any more. That way, I can find Timothy and get this over with without having to worry about leaving behind too many people I care about. I'm not so insane ravennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-886213532003-02-05T20:31:00.000-05:002003-02-05T20:41:20.000-05:00Shiva, Pete calls from over your shoulder, nattering on like some foul-mouthed mother. "You know, if Confucius was the one stuck with you instead of me, he'd probably say some shit about one man's destiny being another's death wish. Me, I know better. You're just fucking nuts. And I hope you know what you're doing with that folder, 'cause you know that chick's gonna read it."
Alex, the Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-885867452003-02-05T07:48:00.000-05:002003-02-05T07:48:17.303-05:00Alex catches Elliott's eye and smiles wanly. "Don't ask, don't tell. Some people just have a thing for shovels." She sits down and starts reading the file Shiva gave her.Alexandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07940150831556600806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-885063032003-02-03T21:18:00.000-05:002003-02-03T21:18:47.280-05:00Alex, Elliott slides back over to your part of the bar as Shiva is racing out the door.
"A shovel? What?"
Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-883558942003-01-31T20:26:00.000-05:002003-01-31T20:26:51.213-05:00On second thought ... I go back into the bar. "Hold this," I say and hand the shovel to Pete. I take the folder Donovan gave me out of my back pocket and hand it to Alex. "It's just a rough draft. Oh. Hold on." I take it back from her, remove the sticky note with Donovan's phone number and hand it to her again. Then I run.ravennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-883542042003-01-31T19:38:00.000-05:002003-01-31T19:38:55.406-05:00"Damn it, Pete. Look what you made me do. I needed that shovel to beat you over the head! And it's not a death wish. It's that whole destiny thing." I pick up the shovel and threaten Pete with it. "Now you know this isn't my weapon of choice, but I've been known to use a shovel very effectively in combat. And stay out of my holes. I like them deep." Realizing this has gotten way out of ravennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-883509302003-01-31T18:12:00.000-05:002003-01-31T18:25:01.000-05:00Pete laughs then produces a shovel out of, well, nowhere, and drops it on the ground.
"You might this a little more, dude. That's some kind of hole you're digging, even for someone with a death wish."
Alex, you notice a shovel pop out in front of you and clatter to the ground.Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-883069782003-01-30T23:01:00.000-05:002003-01-30T23:01:57.530-05:00"I told you. There's somewhere else I need to be tonight. I don't need your help for that." Aside, I whisper, "Pete, shut up. I can hear you snickering already." To Alex, I continue, "I have a death to die, and I'd really rather not get you involved in that. It could be messy. And no one made me God. I am God. I just don't want to be, and that's what started this whole fucking mess in ravennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-883034582003-01-30T21:49:00.000-05:002003-01-30T21:49:14.413-05:00"Wait, wait, wait! You're not going to just walk out like that, are you?!? Jeez, who went and made you God? Besides, you're going to need my help," she finishes petulantly.Alexandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07940150831556600806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-882450452003-01-29T22:17:00.000-05:002003-01-29T22:17:38.020-05:00I drain the rest of my drink and stand up. "Okay. Maybe I'll see you later then." I head towards the door.ravennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-882429892003-01-29T21:35:00.000-05:002003-01-29T21:35:52.083-05:00Alexandra looks up as though concentrating. "OK, in reverse order: nothing much, I and my avatar don't like be used as a guinea pigs - or any kinda pigs, for that matter, good for you, good for you, Pete must be happy, and I'm so sorry you're a vegetarian."Alexandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07940150831556600806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-882364322003-01-29T19:21:00.000-05:002003-01-29T19:21:55.663-05:00I laugh. "Me? Euthanatos? Ha, they wish." I take a long sip from the new drink. "I forgot that I don't drink mudslides any more because they have ice cream in them, and ice cream comes from ice cream cows, and I'm a vegetarian. So I gave the mudslide to Pete. I found where the unicorn went, maybe. But I definitely found where the head snatcher used to live. It had some kind of protectiveravennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-882266892003-01-29T16:10:00.000-05:002003-01-29T16:10:20.363-05:00"But it's not," she adds hurriedly and bites her lip. "So, what's up? What's this about allegies and entropy?"Alexandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07940150831556600806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-882266502003-01-29T16:09:00.000-05:002003-01-29T16:09:27.380-05:00Alex eyes both drinks. "Isn't it traditional to finish one drink before starting the next? Besides, I thought you were a Euthanatos," she says, pronouncing it you-THANN-a-toze. "I think we've got some role-reversal going on; this should be my gig."Alexandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07940150831556600806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-882049292003-01-29T02:45:00.000-05:002003-01-29T02:45:12.716-05:00A drink slides down the bar, stopping just short of the mudslide. Pete looks at his drink wistfully.Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-881964372003-01-28T23:10:00.000-05:002003-01-28T23:10:42.936-05:00"Hey! Wait! Can I get a rum and coke before you run away?"ravennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-881880132003-01-28T20:31:00.000-05:002003-01-28T20:31:52.353-05:00Elliott looks at the both of you, looks at the mudslide, looks back at you, then moves over to the other side of the bar. Quickly. Murmuring something about "her friends."Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-881814002003-01-28T18:16:00.000-05:002003-01-28T18:16:06.980-05:00"I was busy having an allergic reaction to entropic magic while searching for unicorns."ravennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-881108002003-01-27T14:25:00.000-05:002003-01-27T14:25:22.730-05:00Alex returns from the bathroom, stopping halfway to Shiva to give him the evil eye. "Me, I'm destitute, but I've got a *watch*. What's your excuse?" She grins.Alexandrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07940150831556600806noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-879209172003-01-23T17:12:00.000-05:002003-01-23T17:12:49.466-05:00Late? Late for what?
I ball up the napkin and shove it in my pocket then shove my drink towards Pete. "Here. You can have this. I forgot I don't drink these any more."ravennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-878735192003-01-22T20:55:00.000-05:002003-01-22T20:55:48.623-05:00It reads: "You're late. Don't go anywhere--I'm in the bathroom. A."Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-867484622002-12-31T09:49:00.000-05:002002-12-31T09:49:36.433-05:00Ignoring Pete, which is something I've become quite good at, I pick up the napkin and unfold it.ravennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-867220632002-12-30T21:19:00.000-05:002002-12-30T21:19:30.110-05:00"Yeah, and she had something to give you. Hang on..." He goes down to one end of the bar and fishes around under the register, after a couple of tries, he finds what he was looking for and brings it back to your location, slapping it on the bar.
It's a folded-up napkin, and you can tell that there is writing on it.
Pete lets out a low whistle from the stool next to yours.Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866695722002-12-29T16:18:00.000-05:002002-12-29T16:18:46.823-05:00"Oh. Her. Well, friend might be too friendly of a way to put it, but when you end up chasing headless . . . um, people who are out of their heads, then I guess you get to be something more than acquaintances. And then there was that whole mind thing . . . never mind. Thanks for the drink." I pick my coins up off the bar and shove them back in my pocket. "Have you seen her tonight?" ravennoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866421492002-12-28T20:39:00.000-05:002002-12-28T20:39:51.426-05:00Elliott stares at the coins for a moment and shakes his head.
"A.J. Alex. You know, the girl who was singing the last time you were in here." He pushes the coins back toward you. "She said you were a friend. I'm not so sure, but since I owe her big I'll give her the benefit of the doubt. Drinks are on the house tonight." He goes to fix your mudslide.Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866419582002-12-28T20:33:00.000-05:002002-12-28T20:33:09.450-05:00I hope I can take the emptiness of the bar as a good sign. Nothing weird needs to happen. I'll have one drink. If Alex isn't here by then, I'll go back to Pen's and . . . well, maybe I won't go back.
I count out about four dollars in my change and place it on the bar. "Who's A.J.?" I ask. "And I'd like a mudslide please."
Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866419522002-12-28T20:32:00.005-05:002002-12-28T20:32:57.310-05:00Well, you walk into the Iceberg & Lettuce, and it’s about as busy as you’d expect for mid-week before happy hour—as in, not real busy at all. There are a couple of the hard-core drinkers in a corner but that’s about it. There’s no one remotely resembling Timothy, even on one of his bad days. Now that you think about it, there’s no Alex either. She could be late, though.
As you make your way Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866419472002-12-28T20:32:00.004-05:002002-12-28T20:32:46.150-05:00Hmmm. Damn. That's not exactly what I had in mind, but fuck it. I need a drink. I just wasn't thinking of drinking alone.
I walk into the bar, have a look around at whoever might be there -- not that there are a whole lot a people in a bar at five on a Wednesday. I want to make sure Timothy's not there again before I make myself comfy at the bar.
Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866419392002-12-28T20:32:00.003-05:002002-12-28T20:32:31.746-05:00Unfortunately, you don’t see one nearby and don’t remember the last one you saw in this part of town. There is the Iceberg and Lettuce, beckoning to your newfound riches from just a block away.Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866419342002-12-28T20:32:00.002-05:002002-12-28T20:32:23.870-05:00Where's the nearest ABC store?
I proceed to stuff my pockets. :)
Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866419312002-12-28T20:32:00.001-05:002002-12-28T20:32:13.340-05:00You find that even though a couple people are in the vicinity, their attention is elsewhere. So, you touch the phone and the change box just happens to spring open, belching out a large handful of change. A quick inventory shows that you got $15 plus a couple of dimes out of the deal. Not great, but not bad either. At least it more than pays for your lunch.Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866419242002-12-28T20:32:00.000-05:002002-12-28T20:32:03.056-05:00"I'm on my way."
I hang up the phone and just kind of stand there for a minute. I wonder what I'm going to say to her when I actually see her. I wonder when things like this will get easy for me.
I look around to make sure no one is watching me then put my hand on the phone and use a little entropy to make all the change spill out.
Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866419192002-12-28T20:31:00.003-05:002002-12-28T20:31:52.806-05:00You can almost feel Pen lighten up a bit.
“Do what you need to. I’ll still be here.”
Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866419122002-12-28T20:31:00.002-05:002002-12-28T20:31:35.120-05:00"Do you want me to come back now? Because I will. You know you're more important to me than some girl I just met who probably thinks I'm insane anyway. I . . . "Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866419082002-12-28T20:31:00.001-05:002002-12-28T20:31:25.180-05:00“Sometime tonight would be good.”Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866418972002-12-28T20:31:00.000-05:002002-12-28T20:31:09.023-05:00"When do you want me back?"Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866418902002-12-28T20:30:00.005-05:002002-12-28T20:30:57.180-05:00“Yes, you do. Do you know when you’ll be back or should I even ask?” She sounds a little down, a little irritated.Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866418882002-12-28T20:30:00.004-05:002002-12-28T20:30:49.413-05:00"Hey, Pen. It's me. I just wanted to let you know that I'm back at the bar near the airport. I'm supposed to meet that girl again, although I really don't know why. When I get back, we should probably talk. We haven't had a chance since you got here, and I guess I got a little explaining to do."Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866418792002-12-28T20:30:00.003-05:002002-12-28T20:30:36.366-05:00You find that once you leave the airport, the next available payphone is only a block from the bar. Calling Pen up is no problem (as I am assuming that you got enough change from lunch to handle the charges or are trying some nifty trick to make sure that you *don’t* pay).
“Hello,” you hear Pen’s voice say on the other end of the line, a statement and not a question. She seems to have already Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866418752002-12-28T20:30:00.002-05:002002-12-28T20:30:28.273-05:00Okay. Then I'll close it. I'll also make sure that the little plywood door is closed. I would hate for any unsuspecting sleepers to wander back here and have the same sudden allergic reaction to entropic magic I had. Or worse get their heads snatched off. Getting one head back to its original owner was enough for me, thank you.
That done, I leave the airport and head towards the bar, Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866418702002-12-28T20:30:00.001-05:002002-12-28T20:30:18.260-05:00Um…yes, it is…Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866418582002-12-28T20:30:00.000-05:002002-12-28T20:30:02.930-05:00All right fine. I can take a hint. There will be no portal openings for me today. Maybe tomorrow when I have more time.
Is that emergency door still open?
Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866418552002-12-28T20:29:00.003-05:002002-12-28T20:29:52.710-05:00The spiritual portal is slightly smaller and wider than the physical portal. While it isn’t exactly a one-way portal, it will take a great deal of time and effort to even force a small window of it open. Apparently someone doesn’t want to be found.
By the way, it’s a couple of minutes shy of 5pm, and you were supposed to meet Alex at the Iceberg and Lettuce, well, about now.
Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866418502002-12-28T20:29:00.002-05:002002-12-28T20:29:44.646-05:00I'd like to say more to Pete, remind him how long I've waited for this and how many times I've thought through every conceivable option. I'd like to remind him that the physical death I suffered that night was nothing compared to what happened to my soul. And all of that is nothing compared to what I will do to Timothy when all this is over. I plan on dying. Pete knows that. I am at peace Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866418432002-12-28T20:29:00.001-05:002002-12-28T20:29:29.210-05:00Pete looks at you, looks down, shakes his head, and looks at you again.
“Have I told you how crazy you are? Hoo. Alright, I’ll help. I don’t think he’ll buy it and you’ll end up dead. Again. But I’ll help. Now, can we get out of here? This place is giving *me* the willies.”
He walks through the open doorway.
“You want cold comfort? Leave some Southern in the fridge. That’ll give you Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866418322002-12-28T20:29:00.000-05:002002-12-28T20:29:10.836-05:00"it's kinda about timothy. i have a plan, which is scary enough, but i don't wanna freak you out when the time comes to actually do this.
"i know i'll run into him again before i leave chicago, and when i see him, i'm going to tell him that i learned my lesson. i'm going to tell him that the only thing i want is to have kendra back and that i don't have the power to do that and that i think heMidnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866418262002-12-28T20:28:00.004-05:002002-12-28T20:28:54.790-05:00Pete stops at the ‘doorway.’
“What is it?” For once, he doesn’t sound flippant, condescending, or frustrated.
Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866418242002-12-28T20:28:00.003-05:002002-12-28T20:28:43.146-05:00"No, keeping people out makes sense. If you were hiding an evil head snatcher, would you want everyone coming in and messing around down there? What doesn't make sense is why I got through and you didn't. Which one of us is the Avatar again? Or maybe there's just something about me. Because I died maybe? Dying is the ultimate entropy anyway, but I guess we don't
need to be getting into a Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866418132002-12-28T20:28:00.002-05:002002-12-28T20:28:32.130-05:00“This place needs you. Riiiight,” Pete says, turning for the makeshift door.
“I don’t know what stopped me. It must have been something in that spell keeping people out. I dunno…it doesn’t make sense.”
Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866418072002-12-28T20:28:00.001-05:002002-12-28T20:28:23.130-05:00"That's where the head snatcher used to live. I don't know what's down there now. The Hermetics do still have that thing, don't they? So maybe nothing's down there. But I won't know until I can find a way to remove the barriers and get down there without wanting to rip my damn eyes out. I hope head snatchers don't come in pairs.
"You worry too much. That was nothing compared to some of theMidnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866418022002-12-28T20:28:00.000-05:002002-12-28T20:28:09.693-05:00Getting back up the stairs is no problem, as all of the pain and discomfort you felt on the way down (and in) dissipated on the way back. Pete’s standing stock-still at the top of the stairs until you reach the upstairs room; then he exhales loudly. He then inhales almost as loudly, and gets real pissy.
“Don’t you ever do that to me again, do you hear me?! I couldn’t help you down there, Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866417922002-12-28T20:27:00.002-05:002002-12-28T20:27:37.566-05:00Fuck.
Back up the steps. Or if I can't find the steps, at least away. Quickly!
Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866417812002-12-28T20:27:00.001-05:002002-12-28T20:27:19.256-05:00That aura of passive malevolence that you noticed upstairs is centered in this area. The feeling you get is the magic itself isn’t malevolent (though the stinging—almost piercing—in your eyes will attest to the fact that it is destructive), but what it’s trying to protect is.
You take a deep breath, filling your breath with sawdust, wax, ozone, dirty laundry, garbage, and something else you canMidnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866417692002-12-28T20:27:00.000-05:002002-12-28T20:27:01.426-05:00I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. I put my hands out in front of me and take a few steps towards (hopefully towards) whatever shapes I thought I saw. The only senses I'm going to listen to are touch and hearing and smell. And of course whatever I can pick up magically at this point.
But I'm ready to run back up the steps at the first sign of trouble.
You mentioned before a kind Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866417642002-12-28T20:26:00.003-05:002002-12-28T20:26:48.410-05:00With every step that you take down the stairs, your eyes seem to itch and water more, finally becoming painful at the last couple of steps before the tarmac. You can’t see your surroundings clearly from all the water in your eyes. You can see little pinpricks of…light? …and shapes, rectangular shapes…boxes? …an altar? You’re not quite sure, but the pain’s almost enough to force you to keep Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866417612002-12-28T20:26:00.002-05:002002-12-28T20:26:34.130-05:00I knew this was a bad idea. But I'm here so what the hell?
I go down the stairs as fast as I can. I stand at the bottom for a moment, rubbing my eyes and hoping that was some sudden allergic reaction to dust.
I doubt it, though. Whatever it was, it can't be good.
"Pete, are you okay?"
Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866417502002-12-28T20:26:00.001-05:002002-12-28T20:26:13.660-05:00You can’t see any hoof prints or crop circles in the dust. There are footprints, but not anything within the last couple of days.
You take two steps towards the door and feel strong magical energies permeating the area—different magicks than the ones apparently used to open the portal; more passive than the earlier impressions, but also more malevolent. The energies seem to collect Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866417472002-12-28T20:26:00.000-05:002002-12-28T20:26:04.330-05:00Any hoofprints in the dust? Or footprints or crop circles or anything else to indicate that something or someone has been here before I decided to be stupid? I know there are better things I can be doing with my time. But hey, it's not every day you see a unicorn or have one visit your dreams. Any unusual magical/spiritual energies or other things? Anything magical
about this area at all?
IMidnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866417392002-12-28T20:25:00.003-05:002002-12-28T20:25:49.456-05:00You push the door back, and see the back wall of the terminal building about five feet beyond. It looks like a new gate was being built here but with the amount of dust and cobwebs around, nothing seems to have been done to the area in months at least. It seems as though this portion of the airport was just simply forgotten. There is, however, a clear path between the makeshift plywood door Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866417322002-12-28T20:25:00.002-05:002002-12-28T20:25:37.033-05:00(for some reason, i'm reminded of ed's lesson from the "toys in the attic" episode of cowboy bebop. "if you see a stranger, follow him!")
"if wasn't a door, it is now."
i'm going in!
Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866417212002-12-28T20:25:00.001-05:002002-12-28T20:25:19.926-05:00(…vacation good…stressful work situation after getting back from vacation? Bad…)
The crack extends up from the floor in a straight line up to about your eye line, cuts across at a right angle for maybe three feet, then dives back to the floor. You’re not able to get your fingers into the crack, but you find that you won’t need to—with a minimum of pressure you should be able to push the Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866417192002-12-28T20:25:00.000-05:002002-12-28T20:25:07.126-05:00well, it's not like i care if anyone knows i killed timothy's mentor. it's just that no one should know expect penelope and the guy who asked me to do it. and me and pete, of course.
that's what i would have expected as far as contact goes. not that i'll share anything about timothy when i find out. :)
okay. let's take a closer look at this crack. how wide? how long? can i see what's on Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866417162002-12-28T20:24:00.003-05:002002-12-28T20:24:56.860-05:00Answering your questions first:
1. There is no indication that they knew anything about you killing Timothy’s, or even the identity of said dead mentor. So, everything is still in the dark there.
2. There is a phone number tucked out of the way on a sticky note. Along with the number is a note saying, “If it doesn’t have anything to do with Lancaster, don’t bother.”
Your perception slips Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866417072002-12-28T20:24:00.002-05:002002-12-28T20:24:47.453-05:00i want to look spiritually/magically for any doors, gates, portals, tears or holes in "reality," anything that might be a passage into wherever the unicorn went. but i'm going to be very careful not to go through it yet. i need to know what it is before i do that.
only two things between the bench and the airport. questions about the folder donovan gave really. first, is there any indicationMidnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866416972002-12-28T20:24:00.001-05:002002-12-28T20:24:27.876-05:00Pete will just have to retort behind the scenes, cause we’re switching immediately back to the airport. (If there was anything that you wanted to take place between scenes, let me know. BTW, thank goodness that the game is set before the WTC attacks—it would be impossible to simulate the relative lack of security otherwise.)
The trip back to—and into—O’Hare is easy enough. And soon you’re Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866416922002-12-28T20:24:00.000-05:002002-12-28T20:24:18.580-05:00"Sorry. Pete. I guess if you were visible to anyone other than me, you'd be all over these papers. Maybe if you cover yourself with baby powder or something. And you'd smell fresh and clean all day!"
I guess I oughta hang onto the folder, though I don't know why. I doubt I'll show it to anyone, and I think I know my life story, at least the parts I allow myself to remember. I fold it in Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866416852002-12-28T20:23:00.004-05:002002-12-28T20:23:59.453-05:00You open the folder, and it’s certainly not a travel brochure—it’s not even glossy. It does, however contain your life story, albeit from an outsider’s point of view—all of the important points are there, though there aren’t any references to Pete (you can feel his disappointment over your shoulder) or to your own death. However, it does put two and two together about Lancaster’s role in KendraMidnight Puggernoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4056540.post-866416782002-12-28T20:23:00.003-05:002002-12-28T20:23:45.876-05:00that's interesting. and they call people like me reality deviants. at least i don't go around making magic bubbles. and the way he was dressed was pretty deviant too. i have no fashion sense either, but i was married to a black woman. she taught me enough not to look like that. okay. i'm rambling now. i guess there are two ways i could take what don told me. it's either bait -- ooh look,Midnight Puggernoreply@blogger.com