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GUMSHOE: Night's Black Agents - Tinker Tailor Vampire Die
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<blockquote data-quote="writernextdoor" data-source="post: 6046726" data-attributes="member: 6689303"><p>It didn't take long for everyone to see what the problem was. In the waning moments of the darkest hour of night, the stone almond began to smoke. It gave off no additional light, it just began to put off an inky, oily smoke. The kind you get when you burn old plastic. It swirled around Gary's feet like a coiling python. Gary did not look pleased.</p><p></p><p>Mace watched the smoke rise from the almond and cloud the edges of the cage. The smoke wasn't malicious, it didn't smite Gary, it didn't really seem to interact with Gary at all, it just poured out of the almond from a crack or opening no one saw. </p><p></p><p>When the smoke was thick enough to cover Gary's feet, Gary began to laugh his sickly bray again. </p><p></p><p>"Mace Hunter, we should speak."</p><p>"I'm listening."</p><p>"These very well could be my final moments, but I want you to know something. I want you to know that whatever happens in the next six hours - It. Is. Not. My. Fault."</p><p></p><p>They stared at each other until the sun rose and Gary died shrieking. </p><p></p><p>Six hours. Plenty of time for a patented Mace Hunter plan. Except...there wasn't one. Mace just leaned against his car for a moment and craved a drink. </p><p></p><p>The team poured holy water on what remained of Gary (it looked like coffee grinds and smelt like old chalk) and stood there waiting for orders.</p><p></p><p>But Mace had none to give. The great Mace Hunter, master tactician and architect of genius plans to rid the world of evils was bone dry in the idea well. So he gave the only order he could.</p><p></p><p>"Everyone go to holy ground, wait there for seven hours. Then we'll talk."</p><p></p><p>The team scattered.</p><p></p><p>Mace found himself at the Order of the Sacred Sisters, a Catholic cement bunker downtown near the sushi place Rossini raved about. </p><p></p><p>Nick found himself at a Buddhist temple on Cicada Lane, out in farm country. </p><p></p><p>MikeSmith found a quiet Lutheran church where he could read a book or two.</p><p></p><p>Rossini found a Baptist church where they were preparing for a wedding. He took a nap in the rearmost pew.</p><p></p><p>Time passed.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="writernextdoor, post: 6046726, member: 6689303"] It didn't take long for everyone to see what the problem was. In the waning moments of the darkest hour of night, the stone almond began to smoke. It gave off no additional light, it just began to put off an inky, oily smoke. The kind you get when you burn old plastic. It swirled around Gary's feet like a coiling python. Gary did not look pleased. Mace watched the smoke rise from the almond and cloud the edges of the cage. The smoke wasn't malicious, it didn't smite Gary, it didn't really seem to interact with Gary at all, it just poured out of the almond from a crack or opening no one saw. When the smoke was thick enough to cover Gary's feet, Gary began to laugh his sickly bray again. "Mace Hunter, we should speak." "I'm listening." "These very well could be my final moments, but I want you to know something. I want you to know that whatever happens in the next six hours - It. Is. Not. My. Fault." They stared at each other until the sun rose and Gary died shrieking. Six hours. Plenty of time for a patented Mace Hunter plan. Except...there wasn't one. Mace just leaned against his car for a moment and craved a drink. The team poured holy water on what remained of Gary (it looked like coffee grinds and smelt like old chalk) and stood there waiting for orders. But Mace had none to give. The great Mace Hunter, master tactician and architect of genius plans to rid the world of evils was bone dry in the idea well. So he gave the only order he could. "Everyone go to holy ground, wait there for seven hours. Then we'll talk." The team scattered. Mace found himself at the Order of the Sacred Sisters, a Catholic cement bunker downtown near the sushi place Rossini raved about. Nick found himself at a Buddhist temple on Cicada Lane, out in farm country. MikeSmith found a quiet Lutheran church where he could read a book or two. Rossini found a Baptist church where they were preparing for a wedding. He took a nap in the rearmost pew. Time passed. [/QUOTE]
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