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Story Hour
(10/07) A Dark and Restless Tide - (A D20 Dark*Matter Story Hour)
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<blockquote data-quote="HeapThaumaturgist" data-source="post: 1549565" data-attributes="member: 12332"><p>Kyong was springing back even as Tim fell, and her eyes searched the morgue. It was now two against one, and neither her taser nor Tim's gun seemed to have any great effect. She had no hope against both of the "agents", and they were between her and the way out. The cooler drawer room lay to her left, but it was a dead end and guarded only by swinging doors. There was a small office to her right, however, for the coroner and she rushed toward that, low, keeping behind the tables as much as possible. <strong>ffSKT, fffsKT,ffSKT</strong> the agents' weapons sounded behind her, but their shots went wide. She dived into the office and kicked the door shut, scrambling back to her feet and reaching for the lock. She twisted the deadbolt closed and put her back to the door, praying it would hold.</p><p></p><p>***************************</p><p></p><p>"What can Puce do for You?" Georgi said. She sounded a little incredulous.</p><p></p><p>"Huh." Was all that sam said.</p><p></p><p>"Really unfortunate choice for a color." Georgi continued as they looked at the Mailboxes'n'Stuff store from the van.</p><p></p><p>"Seems like the corporate designers took it and ran, though." Sam said. He got out of the van, followed closely by Georgi, and they walked into the store.</p><p></p><p>Two puce-uniformed employees were behind the counter. Business didn't seem to be especially brisk, so Georgi and Sam were the only customers. One of the clerks had a slightly larger nametag, "Chad", and his overly-interested falsely-polite smile pegged him as the manager on duty. Sam took the load of samples and notes toward Chad and set them on the counter. Georgi split off to corner the other clerk, a much less-interested looking girl. </p><p></p><p>"Hi, um, Tiffany, is it?" Georgi said, reading the girl's nametag.</p><p></p><p>"Yea ... what can Puce do for you?" Tiffany asked, trying not to sound COMPLETELY bored.</p><p></p><p>"I was wondering if I could ask you some questions ... about one of the mail boxes?" Georgi pressed, lightly, so they wouldn't be overheard. "Box 117 ... a friend of mine ..."</p><p></p><p>"We're not, officially, allowed to give any information out about the owners of private boxes, ma'am." Tiffany said, but low enough that her superior couldn't hear.</p><p></p><p>"And ... unofficially?" Georgi asked quietly. She reached in her pocket, then slid a twenty dollar bill across the counter under her hand.</p><p></p><p>Tiffany unobtrusively palmed the bill and jerked her head toward the mailboxes at the back of the store. Georgi followed her over.</p><p></p><p>"Yea. I know the guy that has that box." Tiffany said. "Or the kid, anyway. He can't be more than fifteen, even though people are supposed to be 18 to rent a box. He comes in here every few weeks to clear the mail, then he'll, like, try to hit on me and stuff. That's why I remember, really." She sniffed and tossed her hair. "No THANK you. I'm a senior, I don't go for freshmen." She sighed. "After he gets his mail and stuff he'll get on his BIKE and go riding across the lot to the mall... Mallrats are SO last decade."</p><p></p><p>Georgi smiled her thanks and walked back over to Sam, who was fishing money from his own pocket ... to pay the bill.</p><p></p><p>"You wouldn't BELIEVE what this place charges. I could've hired a tribe of African pygmies to backpack the stuff back to headquarters for that. Probably would get there faster, too." Sam grumbled. </p><p></p><p>Georgi filled him in on what she'd gotten from Tiffany, and they got back in the van to drive across the parking lot.</p><p></p><p>**************************</p><p></p><p>A few seconds passed. Then a few more. Nothing pounded against the door, and the room beyond was suspiciously quiet. After almost a minute, Kyong inched her head up to peer out of the small wire-cored window in the door. </p><p></p><p>The two "agents" moved about the morgue quickly. One stood up, the PDA in his hand, and slipped it into a pocket. The other was burning documents in one of the stainless steel sinks. They seemed to be totally ignoring Kyong's hiding place, and the only attention they paid Tim was to step over his inert form on the morgue floor. </p><p></p><p>Five minutes later, Kyong's meticulous notes were gone; fed to the small fire in the sink or stashed in various pockets about the 'agents'. All that remained was the body, lying pale on the slab, it's torso splayed open like a grayed-meat colored flower ... blackened at the edges. Finally one of the agents walked over and pulled a small syringe from yet another pocket. From the bloodstain on the front of his crisp white shirt, Kyong could tell it was agent Ferris ... yet the wound had already ceased to bleed. </p><p></p><p>And with that, the 'agents' turned as one and walked out the swinging double doors. Kyong ducked back behind the door and waited a twenty count, then slipped the door open to peek her head out.</p><p></p><p>And the body was gone.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="HeapThaumaturgist, post: 1549565, member: 12332"] Kyong was springing back even as Tim fell, and her eyes searched the morgue. It was now two against one, and neither her taser nor Tim's gun seemed to have any great effect. She had no hope against both of the "agents", and they were between her and the way out. The cooler drawer room lay to her left, but it was a dead end and guarded only by swinging doors. There was a small office to her right, however, for the coroner and she rushed toward that, low, keeping behind the tables as much as possible. [b]ffSKT, fffsKT,ffSKT[/b] the agents' weapons sounded behind her, but their shots went wide. She dived into the office and kicked the door shut, scrambling back to her feet and reaching for the lock. She twisted the deadbolt closed and put her back to the door, praying it would hold. *************************** "What can Puce do for You?" Georgi said. She sounded a little incredulous. "Huh." Was all that sam said. "Really unfortunate choice for a color." Georgi continued as they looked at the Mailboxes'n'Stuff store from the van. "Seems like the corporate designers took it and ran, though." Sam said. He got out of the van, followed closely by Georgi, and they walked into the store. Two puce-uniformed employees were behind the counter. Business didn't seem to be especially brisk, so Georgi and Sam were the only customers. One of the clerks had a slightly larger nametag, "Chad", and his overly-interested falsely-polite smile pegged him as the manager on duty. Sam took the load of samples and notes toward Chad and set them on the counter. Georgi split off to corner the other clerk, a much less-interested looking girl. "Hi, um, Tiffany, is it?" Georgi said, reading the girl's nametag. "Yea ... what can Puce do for you?" Tiffany asked, trying not to sound COMPLETELY bored. "I was wondering if I could ask you some questions ... about one of the mail boxes?" Georgi pressed, lightly, so they wouldn't be overheard. "Box 117 ... a friend of mine ..." "We're not, officially, allowed to give any information out about the owners of private boxes, ma'am." Tiffany said, but low enough that her superior couldn't hear. "And ... unofficially?" Georgi asked quietly. She reached in her pocket, then slid a twenty dollar bill across the counter under her hand. Tiffany unobtrusively palmed the bill and jerked her head toward the mailboxes at the back of the store. Georgi followed her over. "Yea. I know the guy that has that box." Tiffany said. "Or the kid, anyway. He can't be more than fifteen, even though people are supposed to be 18 to rent a box. He comes in here every few weeks to clear the mail, then he'll, like, try to hit on me and stuff. That's why I remember, really." She sniffed and tossed her hair. "No THANK you. I'm a senior, I don't go for freshmen." She sighed. "After he gets his mail and stuff he'll get on his BIKE and go riding across the lot to the mall... Mallrats are SO last decade." Georgi smiled her thanks and walked back over to Sam, who was fishing money from his own pocket ... to pay the bill. "You wouldn't BELIEVE what this place charges. I could've hired a tribe of African pygmies to backpack the stuff back to headquarters for that. Probably would get there faster, too." Sam grumbled. Georgi filled him in on what she'd gotten from Tiffany, and they got back in the van to drive across the parking lot. ************************** A few seconds passed. Then a few more. Nothing pounded against the door, and the room beyond was suspiciously quiet. After almost a minute, Kyong inched her head up to peer out of the small wire-cored window in the door. The two "agents" moved about the morgue quickly. One stood up, the PDA in his hand, and slipped it into a pocket. The other was burning documents in one of the stainless steel sinks. They seemed to be totally ignoring Kyong's hiding place, and the only attention they paid Tim was to step over his inert form on the morgue floor. Five minutes later, Kyong's meticulous notes were gone; fed to the small fire in the sink or stashed in various pockets about the 'agents'. All that remained was the body, lying pale on the slab, it's torso splayed open like a grayed-meat colored flower ... blackened at the edges. Finally one of the agents walked over and pulled a small syringe from yet another pocket. From the bloodstain on the front of his crisp white shirt, Kyong could tell it was agent Ferris ... yet the wound had already ceased to bleed. And with that, the 'agents' turned as one and walked out the swinging double doors. Kyong ducked back behind the door and waited a twenty count, then slipped the door open to peek her head out. And the body was gone. [/QUOTE]
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