High Fantasy Modern Storyhour - The Long Road (updated December 7)

[RangerWickett]

November 1, 2005
1:00 pm

Last preparations are being made for their departure. Robert, Scarpedin, John, and Nathan will take Terry’s ghost to Savannah, to the main Bureau office in America. Balthazaar will be going with them.

They still don’t know why someone wanted Terry dead, nor why crossing between the two worlds of Terra and Gaia has recently been impossible, but when they get to Savannah and get in touch with the bulk of the staff who are on Gaia, they should be able to answer these questions. John is going along out of a sincere desire to help, and because he wants to know the truth of the two worlds. Scarpedin is going because Terry asked him to protect him, and despite the fifteen hundred year gap since he took up the mantle of a knight, he’s still not one to break a promise. Robert won’t say why he’s going.

Nathan is feeling a bit nervous, though. He has never stayed with a group for this long, not since he began following his visions. He still doesn’t feel like his vision from three nights earlier – the demon bowl, the island, and a pursuing figure in the fog – has been resolved, and though he can assume things will not happen as he originally saw because Belladonna will no longer be traveling with them, he’s still worried why he received the vision in the first place.

Earlier this morning he had a vision of rainstorms, a woman getting hit by a car in Alabama, a man hitch-hiking outside Savannah, and a group of angry men beating each other to death in an Irish bar. He’s always taken visions one at a time in the past, but now it feels like things are snowballing. He resolves to find out what’s going on, and quickly, before things get worse.

First step, he thinks, is to find out who is ‘watching him,’ as he was warned by the text message.

He turns on his laptop, updates his antivirus software, downloads the film, logs off the internet, and cautiously watches his computer’s processes as he opens the zip file. It is no malicious program, though, but rather a huge collection of photographs, reports, and evidence listings, all related to an investigation of him and the group he is with. A readme powerpoint presentation guides him through the information. If nothing else, he has to compliment the informant on his graphic design and professionalism.

From what he can see, a group of FBI agents have been called onto the case, an X-Files-esque pair who investigate paranormal crimes, along with a counter-terrorist agent specializing in bomb disarming. They have been watching the group since the Greyhound explosion, have been tracking their cell phone calls, and, if the satellite photo is to be believed, they’ve been staking out the Bureau office here in the French Quarter.

More disturbing is the information Nathan finds about his companions. Scarpedin truly does have a record that falls apart after a few years ago. To Nathan, this seems to prove his claim that he came through time from King Arthur’s court, but to the government this makes him look like a terrorist with a poorly-constructed identity.

John has a slightly-better crafted alias, but he has ties to a former colonel with CIA contacts who has since become a Catholic father. This makes sense if John is a fallen angel, since he would need someone to create a new identity for him, but again, it makes him look suspiciously like a terrorist to the government.

Terry has a strike against him because people reported him on the Greyhound bus, with a ticket courtesy of the airline, but he never bought a ticket. He also apparently had a juvenile record of car theft in his home of Chicago.

Records of Belladonna and her family show ties to government corruption in New Orleans, though their tracks are covered well. Then there are records of the Canadians, who actually were terrorists, and due to some poor policework, or imaginative guesswork, the FBI seem to have come to the conclusion that Nathan and his group are working with the terrorists.

Nathan’s own dossier makes a note that he comes across looking too clean, with multiple reports filed to the police around the country, but no criminal record except one speeding ticket that Nathan was able to contest and get dropped. There is the unfortunate fact that Nathan has no living relatives, and that he moves around the country and has fairly substantial financial resources.

Nathan’s car was reported helping suspects flee the scene after the car chase and mini-gun fight on the freeway.

Nathan can’t help but be amused. He can see why the FBI might think they’re criminals, especially with a conspiracy theorist heading up the investigation, but thankfully there’s no evidence actually linking them to any crimes.

Then Nathan comes to Robert’s report.

As he reads it, Nathan marvels at how, the few times he had tried to ask Robert about himself, the man had skillfully turned his queries away, so that at the time he had not been curious. But now he sees that Robert has been doing something not too different from Nathan himself. He has traveled around the country and even out of the country, and through the investigation was just recently begun, there are many accounts of missing persons being reported within a week or two of him visiting different places.

Then there’s the eye-witness report and forensic evidence from three nights ago in west Louisiana, where a man was murdered by a hitch-hiker, and then his body ditched in the man’s vehicle which was then set on fire in a remote marsh. The wife and son had spoken to a police sketch artist, and had described the hitch-hiker as resembling Don Cheadle.

The murdered man’s body, even after burning, was autospied to show his throat had been slit by a very sharp knife, perhaps a razor.

Only by chance was Robert linked to the crime. He was seen with Nathan, John, Scarpedin, and Belladonna here in New Orleans, and his picture ended up being seen by the right officer. A warrant has been issued for Robert’s arrest on the charge of first degree murder.

The powerpoint presentation ends with a warning to avoid the police and FBI, and a number to call once Nathan has shaken pursuit. From the sound of it, it looks like the person who provided the information wants a favor in exchange for getting them out of trouble.

Nathan reads all this when Robert is less than twenty feet away, in another room of the Bureau office. He closes the file and ponders the situation.

* * *​

“If we’re gonna go on this trip,” Scarpedin says, “we’re gonna need some money from the Bureau. And I’m going to need to become a Bureau agent.”

“No,” Balthazaar says. “There’s no way you’re becoming an agent.”

John asks, “Why do you need money, Scarpedin?”

Scarpedin shrugs. “I dunno. It’s useful.”

Robert says, “We need to unimpound his motorcycle again. And . . . Scarpedin had this idea. Honestly, I feel stupid even knowing about it.”

“A going away present from Mr. Lee,” Scarpedin says. “I need about thirty bucks. I want to buy a copy of The Matrix Revolutions and leave it on his front door step. DVD version, in full screen.”

Nathan comes in then. “The old ‘burning bag of dogsh*t on the doorstep’ trick. Excellent.”

Robert rolls his eyes. “So we can get Scarpedin’s bike out, using magic or something, and then carry it in the back of Balthazaar’s van. We should keep all the guns in there too.”

Balthazaar says, “You should leave the guns here. What happens if we’re pulled over?”

Robert seems unconcerned. “We can hide them. Or, y’know, just hop over to Gaia, right Terry? Anyway, I spent way too much on that stuff to just-”

Robert flinches a bit and looks over his shoulder. He sees Nathan, who has a hand on Robert’s shoulder.

“Oh, you’re reading my mind,” Robert says. He shakes his shoulder. “Come on man, don’t touch me like that. Y’know, ask before you read someone’s mind.”

Nathan smiles, and Robert notices something odder than usual in the man’s expression. He looks into Nathan’s eyes for a moment, trying to figure out what’s up. He feels almost like he’s being judged by the man. Then Nathan relaxes and nods.

“Sorry chap,” Nathan says. “I just wanted to let everyone know that the police and FBI are waiting not far outside, watching us. I’m going to need to keep a spare seat in my car for a hitch-hiker I’ll be picking up in Alabama this evening, and I think Robert should ride in the car with me. Balthazaar, can we get some sort of illusion to make him look like someone else? The police are looking for the group of us, and I hope to throw them off the trail a bit.”

“We can do that.” Balthazaar nods. “Where’d you find this out?”

Nathan explains, leaving out the part about Robert potentially being a killer. He suggests Scarpedin and John go with Balthazaar, since they can hide in the back of the van where there are no windows. Balthazaar sets about planning the new illusionary aspect of their departure, and Nathan excuses himself.

As he leaves, he looks at Robert one more time, considering what he saw in his reading, and trusting that he has made the right choice.

* * *​

Agent David Dollins looks rather unsurprised when Nathan walks up to the window of his stake-out car. Dollins looks a bit like Jason Biggs, in a crisp suit befitting an FBI agent.

Nathan brushes off his polite, stuffy accent, thinking it’s more appropriate than his normal, more colloquial speech patterns.

“Agent Dollins,” he says. “Do you mind if I talk with you for a minute?”

“Who are you?” Dollins says, his driver’s window cracked slightly.

“I was made aware that you were investigating me in conjunction with some potential criminals. I assure you I’m not hostile, but I wanted to clear things up.”

Dollins cranes his neck, looking embarrassed to have been found out. He nods, squints, and gestures for Nathan to sit in the passenger seat. Nathan gets into the car.

“So,” Dollins says, “what’s your story?”

“Well, I was traveling through Texas to see some sights in Houston, and I had a vision that people would need a ride. You see, I’m psyhic.”

Dollins grins, half-disbelieving, half-giddy.

“Yes,” Nathan continues, “I was told that you believed in the supernatural. I assure you, I had no previous contact with the people to whom I gave a ride, and now that I will be leaving New Orleans, I intend to have no further contact with them. I certainly did not want to leave the city while under investigation, and I was hoping I could provide you a statement now and go on my business, leaving you and yours to your investigation of those I gave a ride to.”

Over the next few minutes, Dollins records Nathan giving a deposition. Nathan does have to lie a bit to distance himself from the events that would demand more investigation, like the car chase or Terry’s death, and he assures Agent Dollins that he is severing his ties with John, Nathan, Robert, Belladonna, and Terry.

At the end of the deposition, Dollins says, “You’re sure you want to go on record stating that you’re a psychic, and that some of your actions were motivated by visions?”

“Yes,” Nathan says. “Some people say you’d have to be crazy to believe such things, but I know they’re true.”

Dollins sighs and nods, then ends the recording.

Nathan rehearsed this story three times before he came out to talk to Dollins, and if his information is accurate, he should have succeeded in shaking the attention of the FBI. To be certain, though, he wants to provide a gentle psychic nudge to the agent.

As the conversation comes to an end, he reaches out to touch the man’s forearm and thank him. To Nathan’s surprise, Agent Dollins jerks his arm away. Nathan hestitates, and Dollins smiles at him.

“Some people say you’d have to crazy to believe in such things,” Dollins says. He takes a breath and tucks away his recorder. “Thank you Mr. Beckford. We’ll call you if we need anything else.”

Nathan nods politely and gets out of the car. He has a feeling the agent will not be following him.

* * *​

Nathan and a disguised Robert cruise east out of New Orleans, followed by John and Scarpedin in Balthazaar’s dark van. A light rain blurs the sky, and the only radio station not talking about the terrorist attacks of the day before is a blues station. Only Terry enjoys the music.


Baby please don’t go.
Baby please don’t go.
Baby please don’t go down to New Orleans
You know I love you so,
Baby please don’t go.

- “Baby Please Don’t Go,” Muddy Waters​

In the passenger seat of Balthazaar’s van, Scarpedin pulls out his cell phone and starts dialing a number.

“Who are you calling?” Balthazaar asks.

“Our psychic said we were being followed by the cops,” Scarpedin answers. “I’m gonna call Crimestoppers and report that I saw myself heading north, so they won’t follow us.”

“Don’t be stupid,” John says from the back. “They can trace those calls, you know. If they actually are looking for us, you’ll be leading them to us.”

Scarpedin laughs. “Come on, it’ll be funny. I can tell them about Balthazaar smuggling vampires.”

Scarpedin presses the send button on his phone and puts it to his ear. Meanwhile Balthazaar rolls down his driver-side window.

After a moment listening to his phone ring, Scarpedin says, “Hello, this is Agent Black of the Department of Homeland Security. I’d like to report a crime. I-”

He curses as Balthazaar reaches over and yanks the phone from his hand and tosses it out the window.

“Sh*t, man,” Scarpedin says. “You . . . you bastard. Turn around and get my phone back.”

Balthazaar looks out the side mirror. “Someone just ran over it. I told you not to call that number.”

Scarpedin fumes, sits back in his seat, then starts complaining to Terry’s ghost. Since only the wearer of the bracelet – Scarpedin – can hear Terry’s replies, the conversation truly sounds like the ravings of a madman. He ends up sullenly looking out the window as they head out of Louisiana, while John smokes in the back and asks Balthazaar questions about what they’ll be doing in Savannah.

“Who’s in charge of the Bureau office in Savannah?” John asks.

Scarpedin rolls down his window to clear out the cigarette smoke, even as the rain occasionally gets inside.

“Normally it’s the Chief,” Balthazaar says, “but right now he’s stuck on Gaia. The ranking officer is Jenny Windgrave, a field agent.”

“Hm,” John says. “I want to talk to her.”

“I can give you her number,” Balthazaar says. “912-555-9575.”

John says, “I gave my phone back to Raine.”

Balthazaar says, “Scarpedin?”

Scarpedin looks over from the window, amused. “Oh, you want me to make a phone call? Hm, I wonder why that might be difficult.”

“Oh, yes,” Balthazaar says. “There’s no use complaining.”

Scarpedin sighs. “Here, give me yours. I’ll pass it back to John.”

Balthazaar pulls his phone out of his coat pocket and hands it to Scarpedin. Scarpedin dials a number quickly, presses send, then promptly throws the phone out the window. It lands by the side of the road.

“Boy,” Scarpedin says, “this is going to be a fun trip. Don’t you think so Terry? Yeah, Terry, that sounds like a good idea.”

Scarpedin smiles widely to Balthazaar, then leans back in his chair and listens to the music as he drifts off to sleep.

It’s seven hundred miles to Savannah. The long road stretches out before them.


End Tenth Session, and End of Act One

 

[RangerWickett]

Session Eleven, part one

It’s late in the evening, and rain is pouring intensely as the two cars approach Savannah, Georgia. They’re the only cars on the road. It’s been a long trip, and eventually Robert got tired of the quiet in Nathan’s BMW, so now he’s in Balthazaar’s van with Scarpedin. John is in Nathan’s car, a few hundred feet ahead of the van.

John spots someone on the side of the interstate, standing placidly in the rain, holding something the size of a grapefruit in his left hand, and with his right hand extended, thumb out for a ride. Nathan suggests stopping to pick him up, but when they get closer John recognizes the man – a Japanese man in a soaked business suit, holding a huge toad; it must be Wiji-wiji.

“Just keep going,” John says wearily. “Trust me.”

Wiji-wiji smiles and waves at them as they go past, then holds out his hand for the next vehicle.

Scarpedin spots someone on the side of the interstate, and he wonders if they’re about to get attacked. Then he recognizes Wiji-wiji, and yells for Robert. Robert looks and immediately tells Balthazaar to stop. The van pulls to a wary stop, and Robert opens the sliding door on the side.

“Goingu my way?” Wiji-wiji asks.


Rain, rain, rain, a wicked rain
Falling from the sky
Down, down, down, pouring down
Upon the night.
Well there's just one chance in a million
That someday we'll make it out alive.

“Wicked Rain” – Los Lobos​

“Yo, Weej!” Robert says.

Despite not trusting the Japanese fey at all, and despite realizing that the toad in Wiji-wiji’s hand is a dried, dessicated corpse, he waves for the man to get inside.

However, a heated debate breaks out among Robert, Scarpedin, and Balthazaar about who the man is (a Japanese fey), how they know him (he gave us turkey legs and golfed with us at a Ren Fest), and why they trust him now (oh, we don’t, but he’s still fun). Wiji-wiji waits calmly in the rain, a smile on his face the whole time, until finally an agreement is reached.

“Okay,” Scarpedin says, “you can come with us, but you gotta leave the frog.”

Wiji-wiji nods in understanding, and he sets the frog down on the side of the road. It suddenly swells with life, as if the rain had fixed its dehydrated (and dead) state, and it hops away into the night.

“Shank you werry much,” he says. “Rucky you guys came arong.”

He gets into the van, glances at Robert and Scarpedin, and for a moment his smile falters. But then it comes back as full as ever. Robert notes this, but says nothing and slides the side door shut. They drive off.

* * *​

The Savannah office is the main branch of the Bureau for the Management of Magicks in the United States. Most of its facilities are on Gaia, however, and the current staff on Terra numbers only about thirty. Most of their analysts and diviners are on Gaia, and they have been out of touch for two weeks now.

Jenny Windgrave is the third highest-ranking Knight of the American branch, a field agent, not trained to direct the logistics of a nation-wide police force devoted to concealing the existence of magic to the general public. Her greatest advantage so far has been that most magic-users haven’t wanted to press their luck yet, so she has been able to respond to the few incidents, even though the Bureau’s response time is much slower than usual. The Bureau is not in its finest form, Jenny is stressed, and while most of the staff like her, she has never been in a command role before, and she knows they don’t quite respect her authority.

She needs these next few hours to go well. The people who helped the New Orleans office get on its feet just pulled into the parking garage, and judging by the report Raine filed, they don’t respect authority much either. She needs their help, so she has to make sure they feel comfortable and that they have a reason to help her.

The first signs don’t look so good. She’s watching and listening to a live security camera view of events in the foyer of the Bureau’s office building. The group has just arrived, and already they’re balking at having to write their names in the book at the front desk. Jenny says a quick prayer, then cocks her head, smiles to her ghost, and says she’d appreciate his help too.

* * *​

The discussion from the parking deck to the sign-in desk was heated. John wants nothing to do with Wiji-wiji, suspecting he might have been responsible for them getting attacked in the first place. Scarpedin is nervous around the fey, but is getting a kick out of his ‘Engrish.’ Robert says that he feels like Wiji helped them, and that while he doesn’t trust the man, they can safely keep him around to see what he has to say, because if none of them trust him, he won’t catch them off guard. Of course, what Robert doesn’t say is that he wants to find out if Wiji-wiji has some sort of sway over him on account of the ‘gift’ of the turkey leg back at the Ren Fest.

Nathan doesn’t like Wiji-wiji much. When he tried to read the man and see if he was a danger, he just got a head-ache, and flashes of a strange, bleak landscape where fey danced and wailed in the air. Balthazaar says that, if nothing else, the Bureau will want to know what he wants.

The whole time, Wiji-wiji smiles, and when Robert finally just asks him what he wants, he smiles even wider and bows in appreciation.

“I have a fava’ to asku you, Robato-san. Demo, I do not wanchu say what in puburicu. Sumimasen. It is nothing dangerousu, though.”

“Is it okay if the Bureau asks you a few questions?” Robert asks.

“Hai.”

Robert says, “See, he’ll behave. Now hopefully they’ll have a few board games to keep him occupied while we’re here.”

“Scrabburu,” Wiji-wiji says. “Werry good gamu.”

They head into the Bureau office building and give the front guard a bit of a hard time. John is disappointed that there’s not more security, but Balthazaar assures them it’s there, just not apparent. Eventually they stop causing a hassle just for the sake of causing a hassle, and they sign in, take the elevator, and go to meet the acting head of the American Bureau, Jenny Windgrave.

The elevator doors open, revealing a welcome group. Jenny Windgrave, a gorgeous Native American woman in a white suit (Scarpedin remembers seeing an interview with the voice actress who played Pocahontas in the Disney movie – Irene Bedard – and thinks she looks like her) greets them, then introduces them to her lead staff – Mr. Luckshore, a data analyst and expert on magic; Mr. Fitzgerald, a Warka (sorta like an African orc) who is in charge of field ops; and a man she simply calls Tagin, their computer specialist.

Jenny chats with Balthazaar for a moment, saying it’s good to see him again, then invites the rest of them to meet with her in a conference room, where they can get them some refreshments and get down to business. Wiji-wiji has mysteriously begun to refuse to speak in anything but Japanese, so she calls for a translator and some fey specialists to make sure they don’t do anything that could offend a potentially powerful kami.

Jenny is friendly and charming, but not quite the leader type the group expected. However, she seems to have a handle on the situation, and after just talking to them for a few minutes she has a good sense of what they are interested in, and what she needs to offer them to get their help. She talks to Terry with her own ghost as an intermediary, and treats him as a person, not a tool. She has a bit of a hard time with John, who seems to be acting recalcitrant as if he’s on a crusade of bitterness, so she doesn’t waste much effort trying to sway him.

From John’s responses, Jenny can tell he doesn’t like the idea of the Bureau at all. She can sympathize with him – when she first started she wasn’t comfortable with the idea of keeping secrets, erasing memories, and spreading lies – but she’s seen the danger of magic, and she knows that the Bureau is the best group of people to handle it. She just hopes John will change his mind when he has more experience with magic.

Jenny tells the group that the Bureau will devote its resources to getting to the bottom of who was after Terry and the rest of them, and how it ties in with the separation of Terra and Gaia. She offers Nathan aid from the Bureau to help him resolve his visions. She promises that, once they can get in touch with the office on Gaia and get the necessary people they’ll be able to clear any unwanted police attention from the group’s records, which pleases Robert and Scarpedin. She also offers John the services of the archives division to translate the two books he got from the secret keeper in New Orleans. Then she asks if they need anything else.

“Sort of a longshot,” Robert says, “but can you bring Terry back from the dead?”

Jenny shakes her head sadly. “Not after this long. A few healers have the power to possibly bring someone back who died within a few minutes, maybe even a day, but the toll on them is great. No magic can bring someone back after longer than that.”

“Sh*t,” Scarpedin says, “what about the Holy Grail?”

Jenny smiles at the quaint story. “It’s just a legend, a metaphor for healing and a restoration of the old days, just like Excalibur was a metaphor for the masculine authority of the king. Yes, according to some rumors the grail has that power, but the Bureau is a over hundred years old, and we have never found any conclusive evidence for its existence.”

“Excalibur was real,” Scarpedin says. He holds out his hand. “It was about, oh, yay long, or yay long when it was activated. Normally it was just, y’know, a hilt, but when Arthur used it, it had a whole sword of sunlight. Made killing vampires a hell of a lot easier.”

Jenny blinks, then smiles.

“What is it?” Robert asks.

“I was just reminded of a friend of mine,” Jenny says. “He was a little insane too.”

* * *​

Nathan excuses himself, saying he has to pursue a vision he had, and after making sure Jenny doesn’t need them, John goes with him. Robert, Scarpedin, Balthazaar, and Wiji-wiji stay at the Bureau office with Jenny as she makes the necessary arrangements. Terry needs about a day to attune to the area so he can planeshift to Gaia, and Jenny is confident she’ll have enough resources available by then.

She has no idea whether the Bureau on Gaia will be in any condition to help immediately. The last reports before the two worlds were cut off, over two weeks ago, was that the main office had been attacked, so Jenny intends to go in with a half-dozen field agents, heavily-armed with full defenses. The Bureau office on Gaia is huge, scattered at the base of a giant magical tree, and in some parts extending to its boughs, so it might be a bit of a grind to get through if things are in a bad state.

Different people play Scrabble with Wiji-wiji, and Robert fills Jenny in on the story with the Japanese man. He can’t help but like Jenny. She’s attractive, has a good sense of humor about the fact that magic is real and she has to deal with it for a living, and still seems like a normal person, not obsessed with her work. Still, she looks stressed, and Robert wonders if he could help her take a load off her shoulders. After a long conversation, apparently about business, but with an undertone of growing fondness, Jenny excuses herself to take some calls coming in from other offices.

Scarpedin chooses that moment to come over and tell Robert he’s taking too long, and that he’s being timid. When Jenny comes back, Scarpedin winks to Robert, then turns to Jenny.

“Hey, um, where’s the coffee room?” he asks.

She points down the hall and gives directions.

“Y’know, I’m not sure I’ll be able to find that, and I don’t make coffee too much. Could you show me the way?”

Jenny is a little put off, but she nods and agrees. She tells Robert she’ll be right back.

Two minutes later, Scarpedin comes back in, looking a little pissed. A minute later Jenny returns, looking exasperated. Robert overhears her telling some aide to hurry up and get the group a hotel room so they can get out of the office. Robert heads over, not quite sure if he’s concerned, or if he’s taking advantage of an opening.

Quietly he asks, “What’s wrong?”

Jenny looks away. “Your friend, Scarpedin. . . .” She bites her lip. “He’s a bit of an *sshole.”

Robert grimaces. “What did he do?”

She gestures for him to follow, apparently not wanting to bring it up in public. She takes him to the staff lounge on the other side of the office floor. She starts to explain how Scarpedin was a bit rudely forceful as he made a pass at her, and Robert listens as he casually closes the door to the lounge.

Then, in his smoothest voice ever, Robert says, “No, don’t tell me. Show me what he did. Here, ah, . . . I’ll be you, okay, and you do whatever it was that Scarpedin did, okay?”

Jenny’s demeanor changes suddenly from irritated to amused. She grins a bit, then uses her hands to make sure Robert’s in the right position as she comes up behind him and turns him to face her. Pressing herself against him, Jenny leans in and kisses him. That’s where the reenactment breaks down, and they kiss for nearly a minute.

Jenny pulls away, looking a bit embarrassed. Robert smiles, feigning embarrassment too.

“Um, Jenny,” he says, holding up a hand to keep her from leaving, “I think you have my gum.”

Jenny stops, nods, and pulls Robert’s gum out of her mouth. She smoothly hands it back to him, then readjusts her suit as she leaves the room.

 

[RangerWickett]

Session Eleven, part two

Bonnie Bell accepts the flirtatious grins of the patrons of Gallogly's Tavern, and just as readily accepts the drinks they offer to buy her. Whiskey is her drink of choice, and she has long since come to terms with being the epitome of many stereotypes of Irish women. She's a short, wiry, Catholic woman with red-brown hair and a great love of whiskey. Mike Gallogly, owner of Gallogly's Tavern, where Bonnie has worked the past few months as a bouncer, tells her she looks like Emily Mortimer (from Formula 51).

She loves Gallogly as a boss -- he has helped her get on her feet since she moved to Savannah from North Ireland -- but she has been feeling the urge to start moving again. It doesn't help that, ever since he saw what he thought was a tattoo of a cross on the small of her back, Gallogly has kept joking that she's an embarrassment to the Catholic church because she doesn't have any children yet. Gallogly doesn't know the truth about Bonnie, and she'd like him not to ever have to find out.

She's been wanting to bring up leaving the tavern for a few days now, but she keeps on getting sidetracked by the drinks the patrons offer her. Plus there's that little issue of the ghost causing all the ruckus.

Almost on cue, she hears a scuffle breaking out at the far end of the tavern. One college boy has started yelling at one of his friends, only he's not speaking English (or Gaelic, Bonnie thinks). It's still early in the night, though, so the outburst only lasts a minute. The ghost usually isn't strong until after midnight.

The door to the tavern opens, and an odd trio walk in. One is a well-dressed blonde man, another a middle-aged woman in a black suit and sunglasses, and the third a dark-haired man in cheap, dark clothes, smoking a cigarette. Bonnie downs her fourth glass of whiskey this night while she listens to the group talking to Gallogly. To her dismay, she realizes the blonde man is English. She forces herself to set aside her ingrained disdain for the English, and instead focuses on what they're asking.

"I have a reason to believe, sir," the English man says, "that one of your customers is going to be beaten to death this evening in a bar brawl."

Gallogly laughs. "You're a little skinny to be picking a fight here. Did McOji send you?"

"No sir. My name is Nathaniel Beckford. I'm a psychic."

The dark-haired man next to the Englishman snorts in amusement, and the woman in black gives Nathan a look of disapproval. Bonnie, intrigued, walks over to them and quietly clears her throat.

"Excuse me. You gents here from the Bureau?"

The smoking man half-sneers. "You work for the Bureau?"

"No," Bonnie says, slightly offended. "Do you?"

"No," says the man, blowing smoke.

"I do," says the woman in black. "Elizabeth Cavers, Bureau investigator."

Bonnie waits for a second, then glances at Nathan, the Englishman.

"Oh," Nathan says, "no, I don't work for them."

"Alright then," Bonnie says.

"I say, are you Irish?" Nathan says. "It's a pleasure to meet someone else from Britain."

Bonnie again is slightly offended. "I'm from the other Ireland."

"Oh," Nathan says. "Well, I have no problem with that. Are you a patron here?"

"I'm the bouncer," Bonnie says proudly.

She stands as tall as her 5'8" frame will let her. The smoking man snorts again.

"You got a f*ckin' problem?" she asks.

The man rolls his eyes and walks away. Nathan apologizes and explains the situation. He and his companions have just come into Savannah, and while some of them are away working with the Bureau on some other business, Nathan and John came to the tavern because Nathan had a vision there would be danger tonight. Agent Cavers is there to help them locate what might be causing the problem.

"Oh," Bonnie says, "you mean the ghost? Yeah, we were wondering about that."

"Indeed?" Nathan says. "This might be easier than I suspected."

* * *​

"I just spoke to the translator who was speaking with Wiji-wiji," Jenny says. "She says your fey friend wants to go out."

Robert sighs. "What time is it?"

"Nearly eleven," Jenny says. "I hope you understand if we're hesitant about letting the group of you run around the city. Terry is our only way to get in touch with the rest of the Bureau, and you were attacked in the last city you stopped at."

Robert almost rolls his eyes. "Don't remind me. Alright, hey Weej, what do you want to go out for?"

Wiji-wiji, still refusing to speak English, looks over from his game of Scrabble with Scarpedin. He smiles, raises a hand to the air like he's toasting, and shouts, "Kanpai!"

“Thanks,” Robert says, weary. “That really helps man.”

Scarpedin suggests, “We should go buy him some more games. This game sucks.”

“You just don’t know how to spell,” Robert says.

Scarpedin is speechless with anger for a second, then seethes out, “They changed how you spell things since when I grew up. Do you know how we spelled ‘motorcycle’ back in Camelot?”

“No,” Robert says.

“That’s right,” Scarpedin says. “You don’t. So let’s go get something like a Playstation or something. Oh, hold on, Terry has a suggestion. Hold on. He says . . . alright, nevermind what he says.”

Robert just looks blankly at Scarpedin for a moment. Then he gestures for Jenny to lead the way.

“Care to come with us?”

“I’ll drive,” she says.

* * *​

The seventeenth challenger rushes at her, and Bonnie just cracks the man in his face, dropping him to the floor of the tavern before he can even swing at Bonnie. Catching her breath, she looks around the assorted unconscious patrons. She discreetly pulls her gloves tighter, hoping no one realizes she’s wearing cold iron brass knuckles under the leather.

“Well,” Gallogly says from behind the bar, “you just knocked out all my customers. What now?”

Elizabeth, the female man in black, has a hand up, concentrating on some sort of spell to keep the ghost from possessing her, the Englishman Nathan, or the smoking John.

Nathan, the Englishman, says, “The ghost is trying to possess Bonnie now, but it’s not able to. Are you a magic-user?”

Bonnie grins and shakes her head. She looks around, trying to address the Indian ghost that’s been causing all these problems. “Hey, ghost, I know ye’re pissed. You were killed by the English a couple a hundred a years ago, and y’know, my people have been getting killed by the English just as long as yours, or longer. So why don’t you just tell me what you want, and stop possessing people and making me knock you out, alright?”

Nathan shakes his head. “I sense that he just wants to kill an Englishman.”

Bonnie turns and smiles jokingly at him. “Well, are you up for it?”

Nathan considers for a second, then shakes his head. The Bureau woman suddenly looks in the direction of Gallogly, looking dismayed.

“The ghost is heading for the bartender,” she says.

Bonnie points at her boss and shouts, “Knock yourself out, right now!”

“What?” Gallogly says. “Why would I-?”

Bonnie starts to advance on her boss, clenching her hands into fists. Gallogly gives a short yelp and starts punching himself, to little effect.

Just then, a new patron walks into the tavern. He’s tall, dressed in brown leather, and kinda ugly, looking like Richard Moll. For a moment everyone waits, expecting him to get possessed and start attacking Bonnie, but the man instead takes a look at the pile of bodies, then at Bonnie, Nathan, John, and the woman in black, and then he turns around and leaves.

“That’s odd,” Elizabeth says, “the ghost seemed like it hesitated. It’s vanished now. Which means . . . I can track it.”

Bonnie waits nervously as the Bureau woman walks across the room, guided by some magic, heading toward a wall of antiques and southern or Irish paraphenalia. For a moment one of the patrons starts to move, regaining consciousness, and Bonnie lightly kicks him in the head to knock him out again. Meanwhile, John heads outside after the strange man.

“Gallogly,” Bonnie says, “you can stop hitting yourself.”

“Oh thank goodness,” says her boss.

The woman in black, points at the wall. “Here it is. This pipe.”

Bonnie and Nathan go over to examine an old Indian pipe. It was a recent peace offering from Gallogly’s Tavern’s rival: McOji’s Irish Pub.

“That bastard McOji,” says Gallogly. “He tried to curse my bar. Well, we’ll get back at him.”

The Bureau agent says, “You’ll do no such thing, and don’t make me force you. You’re going to give us this pipe, and we’re going to exorcise the ghost so it can pass on instead of being tormented.”

Bonnie asks, “So who was that guy who just walked in?”

John walks in just then. “He drove off in an old beat up Taurus. I got the license plate number. You guys figure out what’s going on in here finally?”

“Yes,” Nathan says. “And it was relatively painless as well. One of my easier visions.”

Someone groans from the pile of bodies.

 

[RangerWickett]

Session Eleven, part three

It's like having two squabbling kids in the backseat. Wiji-wiji is refusing to speak (or at least speak in English), and Scarpedin is talking to his imaginary friend, Terry. Jenny has parked at a Wal-Mart, and Robert goes in to buy games to keep Wiji-wiji entertained. Jenny stays in the car, listening with the aid of a translation charm, but pretending not to be paying too much attention. She knows that if the Chief were in charge, he would never have found himself in the position of a babysitter.

Of course, the Chief probably would just have arrested the group and seized the bracelet Terry is bonded to, rather than put up with the sort of smart-ass remarks she's coming to expect from these folks. Even Robert, who puts on a good show of being charming, suave, and polite, is not quite smooth enough to hide his true feelings. Jenny's had a lot of experience dealing with criminals and liars, and it bothers her a little that Robert is the best liar she has met.

It bothers her even more than she's rather attracted to him.

From the back seat, Scarpedin begins cursing. Jenny turns to see what the commotion is, just in time to witness what resembles a moment out of a Jackie Chan movie. Scarpedin has apparently gotten fed up with something, and is trying to grab Wiji-wiji, and in response the fey unbuckles Scarpedin's seatbelt, wraps it around the man's arms, rebuckles the belt into the middle seat lock, then unbuckles his own seatbelt, slips out of the harness, throws it across Scarpedin's head and around his neck, then buckles it into Scarpedin's belt lock.

The end result is that Scarpedin is pinned with his arms stuck to his chest. Wiji-wiji grins to Jenny, leans back in his seat, and pulls out some sort of hand-held electronic device. She hears sounds of a video game coming from it.

"Are you alright?" she asks Scarpedin.

Head pinned to the back seat, Scarpedin nods weakly. "Yeah, I'm cool."

A little later, Jenny gets a call from Agent Cavers, who went out with Nathan and John to the Irish pub. Cavers tells Jenny that they’ve solved the problem at the tavern – it was coming up on the anniversary of the death of a ghost who was stuck in a pipe, but they’re going to exorcise the ghost. They should have that finished in less than ten minutes, with another half hour or so to adjust the memories of the tavern staff and customers. Jenny gives her approval on this.

However, there’s another issue they’re going to investigate before the night’s out. A strange man came into the pub and left as soon as he got a look at Cavers, which makes her think the man might be trying to hide from the Bureau.

At this point in the conversation Cavers hesitates, saying Nathan just slumped over. A moment later Nathan wakes up, saying he’s had a horrible vision of a woman being kidnapped and killed. After a moment of thought, Jenny tells Cavers to call in one of their freelancers – Ian Sunstrom – and work with him to handle the situation. They’re so short-staffed that at this time of night they’re going to need to call in some outside help.

Cavers asks if Jenny plans to come in on this herself, but Jenny plans to keep the group split up, so in case anyone’s trying to target them, they’ll have to split their resources. But she does plan to head back to the Bureau office, where things are more secure. Jenny ends the call, just as she sees Robert coming out of the Wal-Mart.

Wiji-wiji leans forward and smiles at Jenny. He speaks in Japanese, and makes a modest request. Jenny hides her nervousness, and nods slightly in agreement so Scarpedin won’t realize she knows what the fey is saying.

Robert rolls a cart up to the door, full of bags full of games. Jenny opens the trunk, then gets out to help Robert stow all his purchases.

“So Jenny,” Robert asks, “did everything go smooth while I was away? Scarpedin didn’t give you a hard time, did he?”

“No,” Jenny says. “Hey Robert, would you be willing to spend a few more hours out, to help me relax? I know a club not too far from here, and there’s an arcade there to keep these two occupied.”

“Sure,” Robert says. Then he pauses and sighs. “Is it a bad sign that I’m completely alright with going out clubbing with a Japanese fairy and the ghost of my dead friend?”

Jenny shrugs. “You learn to cope. You’re also going out because an attractive lady asked you to go with her.”

Robert nods in understanding.

* * *​

After some divinations, investigative police work, and some hunches, Nathan determines that the woman he saw in his vision is going to be killed at Bonaventure Cemetery, the larger of the two major historical cemeteries in Savannah. It’s only a few blocks from the Bureau office, so they decide to link up with a bit more aid and then investigate.

Despite Agent Cavers’s statement that she needs to ‘clean’ the scene at Gallogly’s Tavern, Nathan insists that they bring along Bonnie. He has a hunch that his visions here in Savannah are related, and he vaguely recalls having another vision with Bonnie previously. He thinks she’ll be useful. When Cavers admits that they’re going to be getting help from a freelancer anyway – one Ian Sunstrom – that clinches it for Nathan. They bring Bonnie along.

What surprises Nathan the most is Bonnie’s eagerness to come. All she stops for is to fill up two flasks with whiskey, and then she bids her boss goodnight.

On the road, Bonnie asks what brought them to Savannah, but John warns Nathan not to go spreading secret information. Bonnie seems a bit too buzzed to worry about it, though, and she drops the questions.

Outside the Bureau parking deck, they meet their freelance help, Ian Sunstrom. He’s tall, with long red hair, a smug expression, and a long black trenchcoat. Nathan and John confer for a moment, and decide he looks like Eric Stoltz. Nathan does a quick reading while they’re getting out of the car to greet the man, and he sees a bleak humanoid shape hovering behind Ian – his ghost. Nathan concentrates, and the darkness resolves into an aged man dressed as an Italian cardinal from centuries ago. The ghost, worryingly, looks like Peter Cushing, who played Grand Moff Tarkin in Star Wars.

Then the ghost sneers directly at Nathan, and Nathan’s reading is interrupted as a fierce head-ache strikes him.

“Sorry about that,” Ian says. He has a rugged southern accent. “George gets a little pissy around strangers unless they’re good Christians.”

“George?” Bonnie asks.

Ian gestures to the empty space beside him. “Giovanni. My ghost.”

“I’m Christian,” Nathan says defensively. “Your ghost has no reason to dislike me.”

Ian asks, “You Catholic, Pip?”

“No,” Nathan says.

Ian smiles. “Well, then he hates you.”

Bonnie says, “I’m Catholic.”

Ian shakes his head. “Do you have a c*ck?”

Bonnie scoffs and shakes her head.

“You’re talking,” Ian says, “and you’re a woman, so he hates you. Don’t worry though, he hates me more.”

Ian lifts the pendant around his neck – an ankh.

John clears his throat. “This is real fun, but what are you here to do?”

Agent Cavers says, “Mr. Sunstrom, you’re to assist us on a potentially dangerous mission. Compensation will be as usual, or double if combat is involved. You understand of course that you’re to be discreet.”

“Yup,” Ian says. He grins to the others. “A thousand bucks for one night’s work, and they don’t arrest me for shootin’ people. Best job I ever had.”

While Nathan and John exchange concerned looks, Ian opens the driver’s door of his car, moves a shotgun out of the way into the passenger seat, then gets in. He starts his car and looks expectantly to Nathan.

“C’mon Pip, I don’t charge by the hour.”

A minute later, the two cars are on the way to Bonaventure Cemetery.

 

[Sollir Furryfoot]

Almost caught up

 

[RangerWickett]

Session Eleven, part four

They’ve been at the club for five minutes, and Jenny’s not sure who’s playing who. Between being charming and inquisitive about each other’s lives, Jenny and Robert intermittently receive phone calls from the group they’ve sent to the cemetery, keeping them aprised. In their conversations, Jenny notices that Robert doesn’t talk about himself much, but he’s very interested in her. Or at least so he appears. She wonders if he realizes she’s trying to figure him out as much as he is her.

“They just reached the cemetery gates,” Jenny says, putting away her phone. “There’s an empty cop car there, and an Oldsmobile which looks abandoned. Nathan did a reading, but didn’t find-”

She is interrupted by vulgar shouts from the direction of the arcade.

“Yeah, f*cker! Take that. Feel the wrath of Kong, b*tch! I crush Gojira and stomp on your ass!”

Robert and Jenny look over to see Scarpedin and Wiji-wiji engaged in a fierce game of Rampage. Despite herself, Jenny can’t look away. She hasn’t played the game in a decade at least, but she recognizes that something special is going on. This is the most amazing game of Rampage she has ever seen, and over the course of two minutes she witnesses an epic duel between the giant ape and the giant lizard. Finally, Scarpedin triumphs.

“High score, b*tch!” the man shouts. He kicks the game and spins, hands in the air as he woots victoriously.

“So Jenny,” Robert says nonchalantly, “where’d you go to school?”

Jenny is still focused on the video game. “You do realize it should be nearly impossible to win a game against a fey who is specifically attuned to games, right?”

“I beat him in jacks and golf,” Robert says.

“Hm,” Jenny says. “That’s suspicious.”

Jenny’s phone rings. It’s a call from another Bureau branch out west. She smiles with mild embarrassment, then excuses herself to answer it. This leaves Robert alone for a few moments with a drink he hasn’t touched.

Wiji-wiji sidles over and slumps into the chair where Jenny was.

“You wanna pray a gamu?”

“Oh,” Robert says. “You’re speaking English now?”

“Hai, for you, Roboto-san. I have an importanto requesto.”

Robert glances in the direction of Jenny. She’s out of sight, beyond the thick of the club’s crowd. Scarpedin’s away trying to woo some chick with talk of his Rampage exploits. Robert runs his tongue across his teeth, considers, then leans in.

“What do I have to do?”

“Oh, no,” Wiji-wiji says. “Not requiredo. A requesto. Werry importanto, demo also himitsu desu. Secretto, hai?”

“Okay,” Robert says. “Just between the two of us. What are you up to?”

Wiji-wiji adjusts his suit and tie as he answers. “In ozha world, on Gaia, Bureau has . . . anno, how you say, prisona. My Engrish no too good.”

“Of course not,” Robert says. “Half the time you sound like you’re speaking Spanish. I can hardly understand you. Now tell me what’s the problem with this prisoner.”

“His namu is O-Ragumaro. Ancient Japanese sorcerer. Bonded with oni, demon desu. I must speaku with him. And you, tomodachi, must come too. You must pray Go.”

Robert is unfazed. “You want me to play a game of Go with a Japanese sorcerer bonded to a demon, in a Bureau prison on Gaia. Um . . . why?”

“Sore wa himitsu desu. If you knew, Roboto-san, it would ruin everyzhing. Totemo sumimasen.”

“You can’t tell me? Are you going to let this guy go? I don’t know if that’ll go over so well. In fact, I’m not so eager to stay involved with all this crazy, you know, magic stuff. I’m going over to Gaia to make sure these Bureau folks can handle this, and then I’m handing them Terry and leaving, okay?”

Robert pauses.

“Unless,” he says, “you want to tell me why you want this favor. I’m sorry, but Wiji-wiji, I’m getting tired of all these secrets.”

“Hai, wakarimasu, demo it must remain secret. If I could exprain, I would, demo dekimasen. I cannot terru you.”

“Then I’ve got no reason to help you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a girl coming back soon.” Robert smiles proudly, then falters. “I hope.”

Wiji-wiji frowns, then he snaps a hand at a waitress. The woman comes over, and Wiji-wiji orders three glasses of Kirin beer, and three shots of sake. As the woman heads off to get the order, Wiji-wiji smiles.

“We pray gamu.”

Robert listens.

“I wirru have three grassu of biru. Anata wa three shot grassu of sake ga arimasu. Drinking game, hai?”

“We’re gonna have a drinking game?” Robert chuckles. “If I win, you tell me what this secret is, and if you win. . . ?”

“You take me to see O-Ragumaro.”

“Okay,” Robert says. “What are the rules? I’ve still got to decide.”

Wiji-wiji explains the rules. Robert will have three shots, Wiji-wiji will have three full glasses of beer. Wiji-wiji gets a head start, and Robert cannot touch any of his shots until Wiji-wiji has finished his first beer. Also, to make sure neither of them try to disrupt the game, neither Wiji-wiji nor Robert can touch each other’s glasses. Finally, each of them is only allowed to use one hand at a time, so they can’t try to chug two drinks at once.

Robert considers this for a bit, looking for some sort of trick or loophole. He figures that unless Wiji-wiji has some sort of magic trick to let him chug 48 ounces of beer before Robert can down 4.5 ounces of sake, it should be an easy win. Just to be safe, he makes Wiji-wiji promise not to use magic. Wiji-wiji laughs, saying Robert is very silly and that magic doesn’t exist. But he agrees not to use magic.

The waitress brings over the drinks. She sets them in the middle of the table, three tall glasses for Wiji-wiji, three small shot glasses for Robert.

“Rememba,” Wiji-wiji says, “you no touchu your grasses untiru I finish my first biru, and we cannot touch each ozha’s grasses, hai? Whoever finishes their drinks first, wins.”

Robert nods. “Sure.”

Wiji-wiji grins, takes his first beer, and begins to chug it. Robert has a flash of that Japanese hotdog eating champion, but he’s still confident he can outdrink the kami of games. As Wiji-wiji finishes his first glass of beer, Robert reaches out to take his first shot glass.

Robert raises the shot glass to drink it.

Wiji-wiji, though, isn’t moving to his second beer. Instead, the Japanese kami has turned his empty glass upside down. He moves it over one of Robert’s shot glasses, then lowers it, trapping the shot glass inside the beer glass.

With his shot on his lips, Robert realizes that, by the rules, he can’t move Wiji-wiji’s glass, and so he won’t be able to get to his third shot glass. There’s no way for him to win.

Wiji-wiji smiles, lifts his second glass of beer, says, “Kanpai,” then begins to drink.

Robert’s mind reels. He needs a way to keep from losing, and there’s only one available to him. He grabs the table and flips it, knocking Wiji-wiji and Robert’s other drinks to the floor.

“Crap,” Robert says. “I guess the game’s a draw.”

Wiji-wiji looks down, his mouth agape in a mixture of awe and surprise. He looks up to Robert and slowly a huge smile spreads onto his face.

“You are a werry good praya, Roboto-san.” He wags a finger in mock admonishment.

The waitress starts complaining at them for messing with the table and spilling the drinks, but all Robert can do is lean back in his chair and sigh in relief. That’s one bullet dodged.

* * *​

Nathan has sensed a name, and Agent Cavers is familiar enough with Bonaventure Cemetery to know where they’ll find that grave.

The five of them slide quietly through the midnight darkness of the graveyard, visibility cut by thick shading oaks and their dangling Spanish moss. This is an old place, from before the Civil War that burned the rest of Georgia but spared Savannah. Old ghosts linger here, faintly whispering to Nathan, but he is concerned with the living. He shivers at the sounds of howls, perhaps just distant ships on the Savannah River, perhaps a pack of ghost hounds said to drive out interlopers and thieves.

“Must be here for me,” Ian mutters.

Something moves nearby behind a tombstone. As one, four flashlights swing to the spot of the noise. John raises his silenced pistol, Nathan trains his gun’s laser sight, Agent Cavers quickdraws a .45, and Ian pumps his double-barrel shotgun. Then, half a second later, Bonnie spins and holds up her fists.

“Who’s there!” she calls out.

A young black woman staggers out from behind a grave marker, looking frightened. She panics when she sees all the guns trained on her, but Ian chants a brief incantation as she turns to run, and when he finishes his spell she has calmed down and stopped moving.

“This the girl you saw?” Ian says.

Nathan nods. He starts toward the woman, hoping to talk to her, but from nearby John yells for them all to take cover. Everyone ducks behind trees or gravestones, except the woman. Nathan starts to move to her, but Ian simply shouts.

“Duck, woman!”

The woman obeys instantly, falling to the ground and hiding.

Nathan looks over to where John is, beside a huge stone obelisk.

He calls out, “What’s the problem, John? I don’t sense any danger.”

“There’s a sniper somewhere,” John says.

Ian scoffs. “Shooting through these trees? Yeah right.”

Nathan, confident there’s no danger, stands and walks over to where John is. When he sees the body, he scowls, wondering what he did wrong.

A dead police officer lies beside the obelisk in a patch of dried blood. A massive exit wound is visible in his chest. Either someone hit him point-blank with a giant pistol, or it’s a 50-caliber sniper rifle.

“Is it safe?” Bonnie says from a bush.

Nathan nods and pulls out his cell phone.

“Who are you calling?” Agent Cavers asks.

“Robert,” Nathan says. “You probably should call someone from your team.”

John asks, “How’s Robert going to help?”

“Oh,” Nathan says, “I think he might have something to contribute to the investigation of a crime scene.”

Ian comes over, shotgun slung over his shoulder. “I don’t get it. You said someone was gonna kill the chick. Why’s there a dead cop?”

“I don’t know,” Nathan says.

He doesn’t say so, but not knowing worries him.

* * *​

In a fourth floor room on a building just outside Bonaventure Cemetery, a man named Dick Thevenot – who looks like Charlie Murphy in an expensive suit – leans over beside his hired sniper, looking out the window at the cemetery.

“So?” he says.

“They’re not there,” the sniper says. “I count five, but they’re missing a few from New Orleans, and none of them have the bracelet. I can take out probably two before they scatter.”

“Nah,” Thevenot says. “We’ve got other plans. C’mon. They’ll trace the bullet back to this building pretty soon. Time for us to be getting.”

“What about the girl?” the sniper asks. “She can identify you.”

Thevenot considers the course of action he has to take, and he smiles darkly.

“I’m counting on it.”

 

[RangerWickett]

Session Eleven, part five

Robert isn’t eager to show off his CSI knowledge, but Nathan is insistent, so he helps them as best he can over the phone. A few camera phone pics and descriptions later, along with a quick talk with the rescued woman, Robert figures out a little. They put the pieces together to get the following picture.

The woman was seduced – magically, it seems – by a tall, bald black man, well-dressed, with a long face. Scarpedin insists they ask her what actor he looked like, and she says he looked kinda like Charlie Murphy, who played on Chappelle’s Show. After getting picked up, the woman says her recollection is fuzzy. Apparently she was taken to the graveyard, and her car was left abandoned so the cop on duty to patrol the graveyard would go investigate.

Jenny has her people do a quick check, and it seems like the cop in question checked in recently, more recently than could actually be possible, given that his body has been stiff for at least half an hour. It seems like whoever set this up wanted the group to get there before the cops noticed one of their officers was dead.

The cop was shot by a 50-caliber sniper rifle, magically-guided. Nathan can’t do a reading on the bullet because the shock of the murder is still imprinted on the murder weapon, and it ruins his concentration. Ian has no such problems, though, and with the aid of his ghost Giovanni he sees the past of the bullet, back to when it was fired, and before, allowing him to get a vague ID on the sniper (who looks like a grimy Tom Hanks), and determine where he shot from. Jenny calls in a few agents who were off-duty to investigate and possibly apprehend the sniper. They’ll also start investigating the well-dressed spellcaster.

A few other pieces of evidence – a half-burned Polaroid of the woman, bits of blood trickled in a circle, the pattern of foot prints and angle of the victim’s body – suggest that their perp – Charlie Murphy – was at the scene, and that he performed some sort of spell to send out a call. They suspect that somehow the man triggered Nathan’s vision, but gave him false information.

It doesn’t quite make sense. The man was obviously trying to lure them there, into the position for a sniper to take them out, but he didn’t. That, to Robert and Jenny, suggests he was interested in someone who wasn’t there, probably Terry. But they don’t know if this is someone from the group of Canadian terrorists, or Morgan McCool’s group out of New York, or some third group. It’s possible the person doesn’t even know Terry is dead.

Whoever he is, he was willing to kill a cop just to get their attention. Everyone is quite eager to see this man brought to justice. (Everyone except Ian, who doesn’t really seem to care either way as long as he’s getting paid.)

When Nathan, John, Ian, Bonnie, and Agent Cavers (along with the soon-to-be memory-altered woman) leave Bonaventure Cemetery, they notice tire tracks of a car that weren’t there when they arrived. Nathan does a reading, and sees a Ford Taurus. It could be a coincidence, or it could be the ugly man in leather who showed up at Gallogly’s Tavern. At about the same time they get news from Bureau investigators that the room the sniper shot from has been abandoned, so they decide to track down the man from the bar, since he probably has some connection.

Eventually, with a bit of divination and a bit of hacking into Savannah’s traffic camera database, they locate the Ford Taurus at a Denny’s. The group sets up across the street and waits for the man to come out of the restaurant, since they don’t want to make a scene. When he finally finishes up (the man apparently has the ability to imbibe huge amounts of coffee) and gets into his car, Ian drives up and blocks the car’s exit, and John emerges from the bushes, a gun pointed through the driver’s side window.

They pull him out of the car, and though he resists a bit, eventually they get him to hand over his weapons, and then Agent Cavers arrests him. In his car they find numerous spell books and a handful of specially-etched glass spheres. The man identifies himself as Shanon Mercer, an ‘antiquities dealer.’ Ian laughs at that, because he has called himself the same thing. Really, it just means smuggler of magical artifacts.

Within the hour, Mercer is in custody at a small Bureau holding facility in their office, and Jenny, Robert, Scarpedin, and Wiji-wiji have returned. At first John has concerns that Mercer might use magic to escape, but Jenny assures him they have that under control. She explains the rules of magic for those who weren’t clear on it.

• Normal humans cannot use magic.
• Humans can use magic if they are bonded to a ghost or have some other connection to a source of magical power. In Ian’s case, this is his ghost Giovanni. In Scarpedin’s case, they suspect it has something to do with the Dalai Lama prayer beads he bought in Savannah.
• With the right training, some humans can cast spells from rituals, but these require a lot of set-up and aren’t as reliable as normal spells.
• Some rare humans are psychic, like Nathan, and can use limited magical abilities without a ghost.
• Creatures from Gaia, such as elves and the fey, can use magic innately.
• There are some humans, even rarer than psychics, who do not fit these patterns. Often they have some element of magical ancestry, such as a great-grandfather who was an elf. Terry, who was able to use magic without a ghost, and John, who didn’t even need any magical training, fall into this category.

Nathan, of course, shares his theory that John is an angel, so he’s not human in the first place. Jenny, despite being a devoted Christian, is uncomfortable with the idea of angels being physical beings, and tells them there’s no evidence angels, in the classic sense, actually exist. Any creature claiming to be an angel (or a demon) is just some manner of magical creature from Gaia.

The Bureau has developed numerous methods for detecting the type of magic a person uses, and neutralizing it. They have devices which resemble thick metal bracers with locks, that go around the necks of prisoners. Each must be specifically attuned to the type of magic it is nullifying, which takes a few minutes, but once it is set and in place, the person is unable to use any sort of personal magic. There’s still always the risk of concealed magical items, and of course in a world of magic there are always ways to cheat the system, but the Bureau has a lot of experience, and they’re rarely surprised.

John takes this moment to snipe about the fact that the Bureau obviously was pretty surprised when they weren’t able to get between Terra and Gaia. John, it seems, is still very unimpressed with the Bureau. Still, he hopes that if they get to talk to the Chief on Gaia, maybe he will actually inspire some confidence.

To show them how they work, Jenny has a Bureau tech align one of the magic-nullifying neckbracers with Scarpedin, and while he’s wearing it he can’t use any magic. Ian says that he’d like one of those for himself, since his ghost can be a pain in the ass, and the less connection he has with him, the better. Unfortunately, the wards cost tens of thousands of dollars to create.

All in all, the night has been wearying and unsatisfying, but before they go to bed, they listen in on an interrogation of Mercer. They find out that, in addition to trafficking in magic items, he also steals and sells ghosts. Many humans learn about magic and want to have it for themselves, but not everyone is lucky enough to find a ghost that will bond with them, so Mercer scours graveyards and antique shops looking for ghosts he can capture and sell.

“People like him created Legion,” Jenny says at the mention of this.

Robert asks her what Legion is, but she says it’s not a happy story. She’ll save it for the morning.

Mercer explains that’s why he was at Gallogly’s Tavern – to try to get the ghost. He claims he followed the group to the cemetery because he thought they were going to set the ghost free there.

The group doesn’t buy his story, but the Bureau doesn’t have any mages available who could pry the information out of his mind, and even if they did, such mind control is illegal without either consent of the target, or a warrant issued by magical courts, and those courts are located on Gaia. Ian offers to do it himself, but Jenny won’t let him. The laws are there to protect people from magical abuse, she says.

A bit unsatisfied, the group decides to call it a night. Tomorrow, in the afternoon, Terry should be ready to travel to Gaia. They’ll be expecting the worst.

End of Session Eleven

 

[RangerWickett]

Session Twelve, part one

Terry remembers the uncertainty of when he first met this group, one of the last days of his life. He could not help but dwell on Lin’s death, but walking through a Renaissance Festival had felt surreal. Had there been a point to it?

“Gather ‘round. Boys and girls of all ages, gather ‘round and see some the greatest hostile magical territory incursion gear the modern world has to offer.”

Terry snaps out of his memories. He’s not at some show now. He’s with the people who fought to avenge his death, in the office of an organization that doesn’t exist, as they get ready to go to another world and see if they can help. It’s still surreal.

Tagin is the name of the Bureau tech who is addressing the group. He has a smirk on his face like he doesn’t quite take the situation seriously. He’s a skinny man – looks kinda like Seth Green – and he’s explaining to the others how the equipment he has will help them stay alive on Gaia.

There are two other ghosts present. One is Jenny’s, a young Indian man with a gunshot wound in his stomach, dressed like a medicine man or something. The ghost’s stern expression cracks for a moment, and he huffs in amusement at the phrase “stay alive.” Terry chuckles a little, and the ghost nods to him as if to say, “It’s alright to find the world of the living interesting.”

The other ghost is bonded with the freelancer the Bureau brought in, Ian. Looking exactly like Terry would have expected a medieval Italian cardinal to look, Ian’s ghost glances at Terry dispassionately, then looks away, somewhat contented. Terry has the feeling Ian’s ghost just convinced itself it could destroy him in a fight if it came to it. Also, he could swear he just heard hints of a Latin choir chanting ominously, but he’s pretty sure it was just his imagination.

Occasionally Scarpedin looks at him.

Only one living person and the handful of ghosts he runs across can see him. It’s worse even than that Patrick Swayze movie, because at least he still had a girlfriend to watch over. And so this what eternity will be. No wonder most ghosts are insane.

It’s surreal. He wonders what the point of it all was.


He said, I’m gonna buy this place and see it go.
Stand here beside me baby watch the orange glow.
Some’ll laugh, and some just sit and cry,
But you just sit down there and you wonder why.
So I’m gonna buy a gun and start a war
If you can tell me something worth fighting for.
I’m gonna buy this place, that’s what I said.
Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head.

“A Rush of Blood to the Head” – Coldplay​

They're on the ground floor of the Bureau office. As soon as they're ready Terry will planeshift them to Gaia, where an equivalent room should await their arrival. The Bureau office on Gaia is supposed to be as large as the Pentagon building, and as far as any of them know it could be filled with hostile magical monsters.

With lukewarm enthusiasm Tagin explains how the group can use the specially-made walkie-talkie headsets and magic-detection readers, electronic devices that normally would not work on Gaia without Bureau intervention. He is greeted by the lukewarm enthusiasm of the group.

“Are we gonna have to fight things over there?” asks Bonnie, the Irish bouncer.

“We don’t know,” Jenny says, “but we’re going to go in prepared for anything. Our-”

Ian interrupts, “George wants to know why you’re bringing the chick along.”

He’s talking about Bonnie. Since only Ian and the other ghosts can hear what Giovanni actually says, no one realizes that Giovanni actually doesn’t seem to care about Bonnie.

“We’re-” Jenny starts, and then she pauses as he ghost whispers to her that Giovanni did not actually ask the question. She half-rolls her eyes, then draws herself up. Everyone’s eyes turn toward her.

“If this expedition fails and we lose Terry, it will spell the effective end of the Bureau, which means that within a few weeks we can expect opportunistic magic users to start abusing their power when they realize no one’s around to keep check on them. This mission has to succeed, and so we will gladly accept the help of anyone who offers. Agent Cavers testifies that Miss Bell is a skilled fighter, and she already knows about magic.

“Does anyone aside from Ian’s ghost have a problem with bringing her along?”

Terry smiles. She makes him feel like he’s actually doing something useful, and she knows how to put a smart-ass in his place.

* * *​

Since Scarpedin is busy prepping for the incursion and Robert looks like he’s trying fervently to avoid having to carry a gun, Terry has Scarpedin hand the bracelet over to Robert so the two of them can chat.

“How are you handling it?” Terry asks.

“Fine,” Robert says. “Wait. You’re asking me this?”

“Just ‘cause I’m dead doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

Robert shrugs. He starts to say something, then looks like he changed his mind. “You know eventually we might have to hand you over to the Bureau, right? I’m sorry, but this group isn’t going to save the world.”

In the background, Scarpedin samples different firearms and magically-enhanced swords. He tests the guns by aiming at John and making ‘bang’ sounds, and for the swords he makes lightsaber noises as he swings them.

“I can see your point,” Terry says. “Still, I thought you looked like something was bothering you.”

Robert eyes dart in another direction for a moment, then go back to Terry. Before Terry can look at what had Robert’s attention, the man’s smooth denials get him.

“Yeah, I’ve got a problem,” Robert laughs. “I, ah, met a nice-looking lady, and . . . well, you were a grown man. I won’t tell you exactly what’s on my mind, but let me just say it’s not some,” he laughs again, “adventure.”

Terry nods, then shrugs, figuring it’s something Robert doesn’t want to talk about. Instead he gets quiet, and as he expected, Robert loses interest and treats him like the ghost he is.

Unnoticed, Terry finally looks where Robert had glanced. Wiji-wiji, sitting beside a desk covered with ammo clips and utility belts, is eating Oreos.

“My team is ready,” Jenny says. “Does anyone need any help?”

Jenny has traded out her casual business attire for a long white trenchcoat, but otherwise she looks unarmed. Beside her is Agent Ulwelf Fitzgerald, who looks surprisingly like Lauence Fishburn in his magical disguise, but Terry can see past Ulwelf’s disguise. In truth he’s over six feet tall, broadly muscled with a gray-skinned face like a neanderthal. Under his black trenchcoat is a tactical bodyarmor vest, a pair of guns, and an array of magical charms that jangle as he carefully adjusts his sunglasses over his snout. Balthazaar has his normal vampire-slaying get-up, along with a sword and a gun loaded with cold iron bullets. Lastly is an overweight man in a poorly-fitting bullet-proof vest, with stringy unkempt blonde hair; this is Finagle P. Luckshore.

John asks, “These are the only Bureau agents coming with us? You, two agents, and a kid?”

Terry wonders if John knows the kid’s name. He doubts it, and chuckles.

Jenny looks unconcerned at John’s question. “I’m leaving Agent Cavers here in case we don’t come back. Terry said he wasn’t sure he could get more than ten or twelve people, isn’t that right?”

She looks at Robert, but Terry considers that’s close enough.

“Right,” he says. “At least I think so. I haven’t actually done more than one at a time since I died.”

“Terry says that’s right,” Robert says. “But, ah, he says he’s not positive. I just don’t want to, you know, get stuck there alone when the rest of you are still chilling here.”

Jenny says, “I have faith that this will work, but if you want you can stay behind.”

Scarpedin thumps Robert in the chest. “Don’t be a b*tch, man.”

Robert waves off the concern. “I’ll come, I’ll come.”

“Pardon me,” Nathan says. “While we’re gone, are you going to be tracking down the murderer of the police officer?”

Balthazaar scoffs. “Get your priorities straight.”

Jenny lifts a hand slightly to cut off Balthazaar. “Nathan, if we’re lucky we’ll spend only a few hours on Gaia, and we’ll be able to bring back more resources to help us handle the threats here. There’s also the chance things could be much worse over there, in which case, sadly, a single murdered cop is less important.

“Right before the connection was severed the Bureau office was calling for assistance because of an attack. That was two weeks ago.”

“I’m just nervous,” Nathan says. “I haven’t gotten any new visions to guide me, and the last one appears to have been a trick.”

“We will devote all the resources we can to find him,” Jenny says, “once we get back.”

The group continues to discuss specifics, and Terry is left to ponder. Nathan received visions warning him that a Starbucks was going to explode, that a mansion was going to explode, and that a bus was going to explode. He’s picked up hitch hikers, thwarted a violent ghost, and stopped Scarpedin from breaking a leg. But he didn’t have a vision warning him that Adrien Lee was a murdering bastard. Terry didn’t have any help from precognition that time.

“Terry,” Robert says. “Do you need anything before we leave?”

Terry wonders for a moment if all ghosts get this absorbed in their thoughts. Then he answers. “I’m ready.”

Scarpedin says, “Let’s roll,” and tries to dramatically pull back the cocking mechanism of a pistol, but it takes him several tries. Terry hears Jenny’s ghost chuckle, and it makes him feel better.

Robert, Scarpedin, John, Nathan, Bonnie, Jenny, Ian, Ulwelf, Balthazaar, and Wiji-wiji. Ten people. He's pretty sure he can get that.

 

[Funeris]

Hey RW, just wanted to let you know that I'm still reading.

More importantly, I'm still enjoying this awesome modern storyhour. Great writing as always.

~Fune

 

[RangerWickett]

My biggest concern is that it might be too slow, but it's building to some rather fast-paced events. Let me know if you have any critique or questions.

Meanwhile, here's the image I'm going to have in my sig until someone tells me it's too big.