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Diabolical. a tale of Dark*Matter. (new 09/28/2006)
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<blockquote data-quote="Roudi" data-source="post: 3058639" data-attributes="member: 12423"><p><span style="font-size: 15px"><strong>Prologue (continued)</strong></span></p><p style="text-align: center"><strong>* * * * *</strong></p><p></p><p>Jonas checked the time on his cell phone: quarter to midnight. And still no signal bars, which was odd. He'd just gotten off the phone as he was pulling into the Exit 23 rest stop, five hours ago. His reception had been fine, then. But now...</p><p></p><p>“Excuse me,” he began as he approached a threesome seat in a diner booth. “Is anyone here getting any signal?” He held up his phone to clarify.</p><p></p><p>All three pulled out their respective cellulars. All three shook their heads. “Mine cut off in the middle of a call,” responded one; female, twenty-four or five, brown hair, brown eyes, approximately 5'7” (hard to say, sitting down). “I was just about to tell my mom where we were pulling in.”</p><p></p><p>“You think she's worried?” asked another; female, twenty-four, red hair, green eyes, approximately 5'8” - 5'9” (again, hard to determine while she's seated). </p><p></p><p>“Of course she is, you know my mother. She's probably all like-”</p><p></p><p>“You folks want summore coffee?” Mabel interrupted, holding a fresh pot. Female, roughly fifty, black hair, brown eyes, 5'3”, proprietor of <strong>Coffee Donuts</strong> in the Exit 23 rest stop...</p><p></p><p>Jonas halted himself. He was over-observing again. It was his habit: everywhere he went, he mentally cataloged the relevant details of his surroundings. That skill had earned him a job at the Institute, just under two years ago. It had pulled him out of a dangerous situation with <strong><span style="color: red">(ACCESS RESTRICTED. INFORMATION IS TOP SECRET; SEE CASE REPORT DX-12I73-5447)</span></strong>.</p><p></p><p>Mabel was obviously in some state of maternal ecstasy. Aside from the three seated in the booth before him, there were at least eight others who had been diverted off the highway, and she was treating every one of them like a stray puppy. Once she refreshed the girl's cups, and poured a fresh one for the male seated with them (mid-thirties, black hair, brown eyes, about 5'9”, gun in concealed holder, not concealed enough), Mabel turned to Jonas. “How 'bout you, dear?”</p><p></p><p>“No thanks,” he replied politely. Truth was, five of Mabel's ebon brews were currently churning Jonas' bowels into a sludgy mass in dire need of evacuation. He excused himself politely and began towards the door. He made two and a half steps before he stopped… he was forgetting something. Returning to his seat at the bar, he reached down and picked up his black leather briefcase. <em>Can’t leave this lying around</em>, he mused to himself. However, a strange sensation prickled his nerves: the handle was ice cold. Looking at the case, he was puzzled to see that the entire outer surface was covered in frost.</p><p></p><p><em>Crap</em>, thought Jonas to himself. <em>Another oddity. This many strange occurrences in one day can only mean something ‘unpleasant’ is bound to happen</em>. He gritted his teeth and started once more for the bathroom; he had to check on the contents of his case.</p><p></p><p>As Jonas exited <strong>Coffee Donuts</strong>, he heard a metallic jingling that set off his danger instinct. His hand was halfway into his jacket when he noticed the noise had come from a young man to his left (late teens, black hair, brown- <em>quit it, Jonas</em>). The guy gave him a friendly nod as he pulled a set of keys out of the door to the McDonald’s. Jonas pulled his hand out of his coat. <em>You have no idea how close that was, kid</em>. He smiled at the teenager, who was still dressed in a striped McUniform, and walked in the opposite direction, towards the men's room.</p><p></p><p>Jonas heard a flush just as he stepped inside and nearly pulled his gun again. He sighed in relief when he realized it came from the adjacent female restroom. Pulling himself together, Jonas placed his briefcase on the counter and thumbed the combinations on each side. He began to slide both switches to release the latch when a female voice screamed like she'd been run through with a sword.</p><p></p><p>Instinct took over; neither <em>fight</em> nor <em>flight</em>, but rather, <em>hide the goods</em>. Jonas knocked the top off the garbage can and chucked the briefcase inside. As he reached to grab the top back off the floor, a gust of arctic wind blasted the door off its hinges. Jonas only got a glimpse of the thing; ice with claws, wind with teeth, a blizzard with a malicious face. There was a flash and a chill unlike anything he had ever experienced, and then Jonas felt nothing at all.</p><p></p><p>Thirty seconds later, Jonas felt something. It was like a pair of 2cm cylinders made of ice had been rammed through his shoulder and chest, pinning him to the wall. He craned his neck down and saw that that was exactly what had happened. The last thought in Jonas Riley's head, before he blacked out, was: <em>Figures</em>.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Roudi, post: 3058639, member: 12423"] [size=4][b]Prologue (continued)[/b][/size] [center][b]* * * * *[/b][/center] Jonas checked the time on his cell phone: quarter to midnight. And still no signal bars, which was odd. He'd just gotten off the phone as he was pulling into the Exit 23 rest stop, five hours ago. His reception had been fine, then. But now... “Excuse me,” he began as he approached a threesome seat in a diner booth. “Is anyone here getting any signal?” He held up his phone to clarify. All three pulled out their respective cellulars. All three shook their heads. “Mine cut off in the middle of a call,” responded one; female, twenty-four or five, brown hair, brown eyes, approximately 5'7” (hard to say, sitting down). “I was just about to tell my mom where we were pulling in.” “You think she's worried?” asked another; female, twenty-four, red hair, green eyes, approximately 5'8” - 5'9” (again, hard to determine while she's seated). “Of course she is, you know my mother. She's probably all like-” “You folks want summore coffee?” Mabel interrupted, holding a fresh pot. Female, roughly fifty, black hair, brown eyes, 5'3”, proprietor of [b]Coffee Donuts[/b] in the Exit 23 rest stop... Jonas halted himself. He was over-observing again. It was his habit: everywhere he went, he mentally cataloged the relevant details of his surroundings. That skill had earned him a job at the Institute, just under two years ago. It had pulled him out of a dangerous situation with [b][color=red](ACCESS RESTRICTED. INFORMATION IS TOP SECRET; SEE CASE REPORT DX-12I73-5447)[/color][/b][color=red][/color]. Mabel was obviously in some state of maternal ecstasy. Aside from the three seated in the booth before him, there were at least eight others who had been diverted off the highway, and she was treating every one of them like a stray puppy. Once she refreshed the girl's cups, and poured a fresh one for the male seated with them (mid-thirties, black hair, brown eyes, about 5'9”, gun in concealed holder, not concealed enough), Mabel turned to Jonas. “How 'bout you, dear?” “No thanks,” he replied politely. Truth was, five of Mabel's ebon brews were currently churning Jonas' bowels into a sludgy mass in dire need of evacuation. He excused himself politely and began towards the door. He made two and a half steps before he stopped… he was forgetting something. Returning to his seat at the bar, he reached down and picked up his black leather briefcase. [i]Can’t leave this lying around[/i], he mused to himself. However, a strange sensation prickled his nerves: the handle was ice cold. Looking at the case, he was puzzled to see that the entire outer surface was covered in frost. [i]Crap[/i], thought Jonas to himself. [i]Another oddity. This many strange occurrences in one day can only mean something ‘unpleasant’ is bound to happen[/i]. He gritted his teeth and started once more for the bathroom; he had to check on the contents of his case. As Jonas exited [b]Coffee Donuts[/b], he heard a metallic jingling that set off his danger instinct. His hand was halfway into his jacket when he noticed the noise had come from a young man to his left (late teens, black hair, brown- [i]quit it, Jonas[/i]). The guy gave him a friendly nod as he pulled a set of keys out of the door to the McDonald’s. Jonas pulled his hand out of his coat. [i]You have no idea how close that was, kid[/i]. He smiled at the teenager, who was still dressed in a striped McUniform, and walked in the opposite direction, towards the men's room. Jonas heard a flush just as he stepped inside and nearly pulled his gun again. He sighed in relief when he realized it came from the adjacent female restroom. Pulling himself together, Jonas placed his briefcase on the counter and thumbed the combinations on each side. He began to slide both switches to release the latch when a female voice screamed like she'd been run through with a sword. Instinct took over; neither [i]fight[/i] nor [i]flight[/i], but rather, [i]hide the goods[/i]. Jonas knocked the top off the garbage can and chucked the briefcase inside. As he reached to grab the top back off the floor, a gust of arctic wind blasted the door off its hinges. Jonas only got a glimpse of the thing; ice with claws, wind with teeth, a blizzard with a malicious face. There was a flash and a chill unlike anything he had ever experienced, and then Jonas felt nothing at all. Thirty seconds later, Jonas felt something. It was like a pair of 2cm cylinders made of ice had been rammed through his shoulder and chest, pinning him to the wall. He craned his neck down and saw that that was exactly what had happened. The last thought in Jonas Riley's head, before he blacked out, was: [i]Figures[/i]. [/QUOTE]
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