High Fantasy Modern Storyhour - The Long Road (updated December 7)
RangerWickett
Legend
Session Thirteen, part two
The door to the Bureau compound opens like some sort of airlock. Invisibly small lines of warding text surround the door, keeping errant fey away and blocking general intrusions of evil spirits. Outside the threshold is a dark, wild forest where hidden figures dance and sing and lure mortals to nights of revelry and weeks of lost memories, while inside lies a maze of steel and modern office decorations, lines of cable connecting countless electronic surveillance devices, and written or digitally-stored records of the answers to thousands of millions of mysteries, all guarded by inscrutable agents in black suits, black ties, and black sunglasses.
Michael Dunne emerges from behind a wall of Bureau agents, his long gray coat and relaxed expression belying the imposing greeting. He looks out the door at the group gathered there, then lowers his gaze to the blood-soaked prisoner being carried between John and Scarpedin.
“If I give you the room you want,” Michael says, “will you tell me what this is about when you’re done?”
Robert says, “Sure.”
His answer both assures Michael that he’s telling the truth, and assures the others with Robert that they’ll tell Michael only what they damn well please.
The agents watch with bristling curiosity as Robert, John, Scarpedin, their prisoner Thevenot, Ian, and Bonnie walk inside, followed by a light-footed and grinning Wiji-wiji. Robert’s ghost Giovanni glares at the agents, while Terry lurks close to Robert, looking nervous. The agents all know something is amiss, but Michael has warned them not to push the group. They have perhaps the most valuable bargaining chip in the form of Terry, and if they’re here without the Chief it means something went wrong on Terra.
“You’re lucky,” Michael says. “You picked the entrance near the cafeteria. When you’re done, meet me there, alright?”
The group as one looks at him and shrugs. Robert gives him an encouraging smile, and then they follow one of the agents to the interrogation room.
They sit the unconscious Dick Thevenot in a chair in the center of the interrogation chamber, but don’t hand-cuff him, since Wiji-wiji says that would ruin the game they’re going to play. Wiji-wiji sits in another chair in front of the prisoner, and tells Robert to lean against the wall in a dark corner. Scarpedin is to stand close by, Bonnie is to sit in a chair opposite Scarpedin, and Ian is supposed to stand behind Wiji-wiji’s shoulder.
John stands on the opposite side of the room, behind Thevenot, out of sight. He holds a pistol and is to kill Thevenot if the man looks like he’s going to escape again.
Wiji-wiji holds up his deck of cards, and splays them in his hand.
“Gamu we pray is called, ah, Masquerado, wakaru? I wirru be invisible to him, and you wirru pray role. Pretend. Anno, rie to him, hai?”
They frown, but go along with it.
Wiji-wiji shuffles the deck in his lap, and nods at John, then to Thevenot, indicating for him to heal the prisoner. John cautiously concentrates to perform a last bit of magical healing to bring Thevenot to consciousness, then backs away and aims the gun again, keeping an angle so if he has to shoot, he can’t accidentally hit anyone else.
Wiji-wiji continues to shuffle, and as the prisoner begins to stir awake and his eyes flutter open, his attention is drawn to the cards. Wiji-wiji shuffles again, the crisp snapping of the cards the only sound in the room, and then suddenly he stops. His gaze is intent on Thevenot, and without looking away he holds out the deck to Scarpedin him.
“Take cardo kudasai,” he whispers, “and terru me what it is.”
Thevenot still lolls a bit, clearly out of it, but he doesn’t look anywhere but at Wiji-wiji.
Scarpedin draws a card from the deck. “Um, it’s the Jack with the red pointy thing on it.”
Wiji-wiji nods. “You are kochira no ichiban tomodachi, his best friend.”
Thevenot suddenly sits a little straighter and glances at Scarpedin. He laughs slightly, then shakes his head.
“Jin,” Thevenot says, his voice still rough from the blood caked in his throat. “Did you save me?”
Scarpedin glances left to John, then right to Wiji-wiji, then nods. Loudly he says, “Yes. You know I wouldn’t let you get hurt, man!”
Thevenot grins. “Where am I?”
Wiji-wiji sharply extends the deck to Bonnie. She pulls a card and says, “Queen of Spades.”
“You,” Wiji-wiji says, “are woman he reast wants to see.”
Thevenot glares suddently at Bonnie. He asks, “What’s the bitch doing here?”
Bonnie looks to Robert for help, then looks back at their prisoner. “What do you think I’m here for?”
Thevenot growls. “Look, I know I screwed up, Jin, but you didn’t have to bring Dee in on this sh*t. They didn’t find anything out, and I probably killed a few of them. Plus, we know what they can do now, right?”
Bonnie says, “Is that what you think?”
“Lay off him,” Scarpedin says. “He did his best.”
When he speaks, it sounds like Scarpedin is legitimately pissed at Bonnie, but whether that’s because the magic is affecting him too, or because he’s just playing along too well they can’t tell.
Wiji-wiji lifts the deck over his shoulder for Ian to take a card. He does and says, “Five of clubs.”
Thevenot glances up and cocks his head at Ian. “Who the hell is this guy?”
Wiji-wiji grabs the card out of Ian’s hand, frowns at it, then shakes his head.
“He no one important,” Wiji-wiji says. Then he looks at the deck face-up, picks a card out, and hands it to Ian. “Jack of clubs. You possible enemy of his.”
“That’s better,” Ian says. He points at Thevenot and grins. “You’re lucky we don’t kill you for screwing up.”
“Sh*t,” Thevenot says. “You ain’t nothing special. Jin, tell this steroid-popping Governator-reject to back off before I pull his heart out.”
“I dunno,” Scarpedin says. “I’m with. . . ,” he pauses and glances at Ian, “what’s your name?”
Ian glowers at Thevenot and says, “You know who I am. What’s my name, huh?”
The prisoner scoffs. “Oh, I’m real scared, Vlad. Hey, I heard you were fishin’ for some rubles in your pocket and you accidentally popped off your testicles.”
Scarpedin grins, “Yeah, he gave ‘em to her. What’s her name, Dick?”
Dick glances at Bonnie, then back at Scarpedin. He squints and cocks his head. “Wait, something’s wrong here.”
Wiji-wiji quickly pulls a card from the deck and tosses it to Robert. Robert catches it reflexively out of the air, then glances at it. King of Hearts – the suicide king.
“You are person,” Wiji-wiji says, “who he is most afraid. Totemo kowai.”
Robert slips into his persona immediately.
“Enough,” he says.
Everyone looks at him, and Thevenot draws in a breath, then curses quietly.
“Why not tell me exactly what happened?” Robert continues.
“Sh*t, senator,” Thevenot says, “nothing went wrong. I got inside the Bureau, and I managed to find out what they’re using to still planeshift. They got the ghost of that kid Terry stuck into a bracelet, and he’s still able to do his magic. I managed to get the thing too, but . . . I dunno, something happened. I can’t remember. Where am I?”
Robert ignores him. “This could look very bad for me. I’ve got my constituents in New York to win over.”
Thevenot frowns. “New York? I thought you were in Illinois?”
Ian laughs and turns to Robert. “Yeah, who the hell do you think you are? Hillary Clinton?”
“Nah,” Thevenot shakes his head. “Something’s wrong here.”
“Yes,” Robert says. “What’s wrong is that you failed your mission. We might as well all just give up now.”
Thevenot looks at Bonnie as if expecting her to say something, but then he leans forward and sneers at Robert.
“You can’t pull out now,” he says. “You do, you’d better be able to go without sleep for a few weeks. Guards won’t stop us.”
The way he says it, it’s like he’s implying he thinks Bonnie, Scarpedin, and Ian are all dangerous.
Robert laughs. “You’re just going to teleport in and kill me?”
Dick shrugs, cocky.
Robert says, “Do you think your boss would be so rash?”
“Don’t f*ck with us, senator,” Scarpedin says.
The group, tensely hoping Dick would reveal something about who’s in charge, sighs in frustration. Robert simply glares at Scarpedin chidingly, then turns back to the prisoner.
“So,” Robert says, “what are we going to do now?”
“All of us can go next time,” Thevenot says. “You just report them as terrorists or something, and when they show up we’ll teleport in and take them out.”
“Don’t you think your boss would want to interrogate them?” Robert asks.
Thevenot glares. “You seem pretty interested in the guy you’re working for. Maybe you’re asking a few too many questions. He’ll do what he wants. You owe him for getting you elected in the first place.”
Robert laughs. “You don’t seem to realize how much you screwed up here. Look, I know you’re afraid of me, and you’ve got a good reason to be. Do you even know the status of the project? Things have changed.”
Thevenot looks nervous. “Like what?”
“Why don’t you tell me what you know first,” Robert says, “and I’ll tell you what you got wrong?”
At this, Thevenot shakes his head slightly. He looks around at the group one by one, looking groggy and confused. Robert winces slightly, realizing he pushed too hard. Scarpedin suddenly leans in.
“Hey,” he says, “um, I forgot our boss’s name, and where he lives. Can you, like, remind me or something?”
Thevenot suddenly snaps out of his confusion and glares at Scarpedin. “You son of a bi-”
Three silenced pistol shots fill the room. Thevenot sags as two bullets pierce his lungs, and a third slices through his heart. He turns weakly and bares his teeth at John, then falls out of the chair.
“Damn John,” Ian says. “Don’t you think that might’ve been a bit premature? We hardly got anything out of him.”
John shrugs. “We got enough.”
“We got enough?” Ian points at the body. “You just blew Marvin’s head off, Vince! This kind of sh*t doesn’t just accidentally happen.”
John scoffs and puts his pistol away. “This goes to the American government? It’s not something we need to be involved with. Robert, go out there and tell the Bureau we’re out. They can handle this thing themselves.”
Scarpedin grumbles. Bonnie sighs and casually wipes Thevenot’s blood off her face.
Robert looks at the body on the ground, then sees Wiji-wiji watching him.
“I think we lost this game,” Robert says.
They take a moment to collect themselves, then head out to ask Michael for some favors from the Bureau.
The door to the Bureau compound opens like some sort of airlock. Invisibly small lines of warding text surround the door, keeping errant fey away and blocking general intrusions of evil spirits. Outside the threshold is a dark, wild forest where hidden figures dance and sing and lure mortals to nights of revelry and weeks of lost memories, while inside lies a maze of steel and modern office decorations, lines of cable connecting countless electronic surveillance devices, and written or digitally-stored records of the answers to thousands of millions of mysteries, all guarded by inscrutable agents in black suits, black ties, and black sunglasses.
Michael Dunne emerges from behind a wall of Bureau agents, his long gray coat and relaxed expression belying the imposing greeting. He looks out the door at the group gathered there, then lowers his gaze to the blood-soaked prisoner being carried between John and Scarpedin.
“If I give you the room you want,” Michael says, “will you tell me what this is about when you’re done?”
Robert says, “Sure.”
His answer both assures Michael that he’s telling the truth, and assures the others with Robert that they’ll tell Michael only what they damn well please.
The agents watch with bristling curiosity as Robert, John, Scarpedin, their prisoner Thevenot, Ian, and Bonnie walk inside, followed by a light-footed and grinning Wiji-wiji. Robert’s ghost Giovanni glares at the agents, while Terry lurks close to Robert, looking nervous. The agents all know something is amiss, but Michael has warned them not to push the group. They have perhaps the most valuable bargaining chip in the form of Terry, and if they’re here without the Chief it means something went wrong on Terra.
“You’re lucky,” Michael says. “You picked the entrance near the cafeteria. When you’re done, meet me there, alright?”
The group as one looks at him and shrugs. Robert gives him an encouraging smile, and then they follow one of the agents to the interrogation room.
* * *
They sit the unconscious Dick Thevenot in a chair in the center of the interrogation chamber, but don’t hand-cuff him, since Wiji-wiji says that would ruin the game they’re going to play. Wiji-wiji sits in another chair in front of the prisoner, and tells Robert to lean against the wall in a dark corner. Scarpedin is to stand close by, Bonnie is to sit in a chair opposite Scarpedin, and Ian is supposed to stand behind Wiji-wiji’s shoulder.
John stands on the opposite side of the room, behind Thevenot, out of sight. He holds a pistol and is to kill Thevenot if the man looks like he’s going to escape again.
Wiji-wiji holds up his deck of cards, and splays them in his hand.
“Gamu we pray is called, ah, Masquerado, wakaru? I wirru be invisible to him, and you wirru pray role. Pretend. Anno, rie to him, hai?”
They frown, but go along with it.
Wiji-wiji shuffles the deck in his lap, and nods at John, then to Thevenot, indicating for him to heal the prisoner. John cautiously concentrates to perform a last bit of magical healing to bring Thevenot to consciousness, then backs away and aims the gun again, keeping an angle so if he has to shoot, he can’t accidentally hit anyone else.
Wiji-wiji continues to shuffle, and as the prisoner begins to stir awake and his eyes flutter open, his attention is drawn to the cards. Wiji-wiji shuffles again, the crisp snapping of the cards the only sound in the room, and then suddenly he stops. His gaze is intent on Thevenot, and without looking away he holds out the deck to Scarpedin him.
“Take cardo kudasai,” he whispers, “and terru me what it is.”
Thevenot still lolls a bit, clearly out of it, but he doesn’t look anywhere but at Wiji-wiji.
Scarpedin draws a card from the deck. “Um, it’s the Jack with the red pointy thing on it.”
Wiji-wiji nods. “You are kochira no ichiban tomodachi, his best friend.”
Thevenot suddenly sits a little straighter and glances at Scarpedin. He laughs slightly, then shakes his head.
“Jin,” Thevenot says, his voice still rough from the blood caked in his throat. “Did you save me?”
Scarpedin glances left to John, then right to Wiji-wiji, then nods. Loudly he says, “Yes. You know I wouldn’t let you get hurt, man!”
Thevenot grins. “Where am I?”
Wiji-wiji sharply extends the deck to Bonnie. She pulls a card and says, “Queen of Spades.”
“You,” Wiji-wiji says, “are woman he reast wants to see.”
Thevenot glares suddently at Bonnie. He asks, “What’s the bitch doing here?”
Bonnie looks to Robert for help, then looks back at their prisoner. “What do you think I’m here for?”
Thevenot growls. “Look, I know I screwed up, Jin, but you didn’t have to bring Dee in on this sh*t. They didn’t find anything out, and I probably killed a few of them. Plus, we know what they can do now, right?”
Bonnie says, “Is that what you think?”
“Lay off him,” Scarpedin says. “He did his best.”
When he speaks, it sounds like Scarpedin is legitimately pissed at Bonnie, but whether that’s because the magic is affecting him too, or because he’s just playing along too well they can’t tell.
Wiji-wiji lifts the deck over his shoulder for Ian to take a card. He does and says, “Five of clubs.”
Thevenot glances up and cocks his head at Ian. “Who the hell is this guy?”
Wiji-wiji grabs the card out of Ian’s hand, frowns at it, then shakes his head.
“He no one important,” Wiji-wiji says. Then he looks at the deck face-up, picks a card out, and hands it to Ian. “Jack of clubs. You possible enemy of his.”
“That’s better,” Ian says. He points at Thevenot and grins. “You’re lucky we don’t kill you for screwing up.”
“Sh*t,” Thevenot says. “You ain’t nothing special. Jin, tell this steroid-popping Governator-reject to back off before I pull his heart out.”
“I dunno,” Scarpedin says. “I’m with. . . ,” he pauses and glances at Ian, “what’s your name?”
Ian glowers at Thevenot and says, “You know who I am. What’s my name, huh?”
The prisoner scoffs. “Oh, I’m real scared, Vlad. Hey, I heard you were fishin’ for some rubles in your pocket and you accidentally popped off your testicles.”
Scarpedin grins, “Yeah, he gave ‘em to her. What’s her name, Dick?”
Dick glances at Bonnie, then back at Scarpedin. He squints and cocks his head. “Wait, something’s wrong here.”
Wiji-wiji quickly pulls a card from the deck and tosses it to Robert. Robert catches it reflexively out of the air, then glances at it. King of Hearts – the suicide king.
“You are person,” Wiji-wiji says, “who he is most afraid. Totemo kowai.”
Robert slips into his persona immediately.
“Enough,” he says.
Everyone looks at him, and Thevenot draws in a breath, then curses quietly.
“Why not tell me exactly what happened?” Robert continues.
“Sh*t, senator,” Thevenot says, “nothing went wrong. I got inside the Bureau, and I managed to find out what they’re using to still planeshift. They got the ghost of that kid Terry stuck into a bracelet, and he’s still able to do his magic. I managed to get the thing too, but . . . I dunno, something happened. I can’t remember. Where am I?”
Robert ignores him. “This could look very bad for me. I’ve got my constituents in New York to win over.”
Thevenot frowns. “New York? I thought you were in Illinois?”
Ian laughs and turns to Robert. “Yeah, who the hell do you think you are? Hillary Clinton?”
“Nah,” Thevenot shakes his head. “Something’s wrong here.”
“Yes,” Robert says. “What’s wrong is that you failed your mission. We might as well all just give up now.”
Thevenot looks at Bonnie as if expecting her to say something, but then he leans forward and sneers at Robert.
“You can’t pull out now,” he says. “You do, you’d better be able to go without sleep for a few weeks. Guards won’t stop us.”
The way he says it, it’s like he’s implying he thinks Bonnie, Scarpedin, and Ian are all dangerous.
Robert laughs. “You’re just going to teleport in and kill me?”
Dick shrugs, cocky.
Robert says, “Do you think your boss would be so rash?”
“Don’t f*ck with us, senator,” Scarpedin says.
The group, tensely hoping Dick would reveal something about who’s in charge, sighs in frustration. Robert simply glares at Scarpedin chidingly, then turns back to the prisoner.
“So,” Robert says, “what are we going to do now?”
“All of us can go next time,” Thevenot says. “You just report them as terrorists or something, and when they show up we’ll teleport in and take them out.”
“Don’t you think your boss would want to interrogate them?” Robert asks.
Thevenot glares. “You seem pretty interested in the guy you’re working for. Maybe you’re asking a few too many questions. He’ll do what he wants. You owe him for getting you elected in the first place.”
Robert laughs. “You don’t seem to realize how much you screwed up here. Look, I know you’re afraid of me, and you’ve got a good reason to be. Do you even know the status of the project? Things have changed.”
Thevenot looks nervous. “Like what?”
“Why don’t you tell me what you know first,” Robert says, “and I’ll tell you what you got wrong?”
At this, Thevenot shakes his head slightly. He looks around at the group one by one, looking groggy and confused. Robert winces slightly, realizing he pushed too hard. Scarpedin suddenly leans in.
“Hey,” he says, “um, I forgot our boss’s name, and where he lives. Can you, like, remind me or something?”
Thevenot suddenly snaps out of his confusion and glares at Scarpedin. “You son of a bi-”
Three silenced pistol shots fill the room. Thevenot sags as two bullets pierce his lungs, and a third slices through his heart. He turns weakly and bares his teeth at John, then falls out of the chair.
“Damn John,” Ian says. “Don’t you think that might’ve been a bit premature? We hardly got anything out of him.”
John shrugs. “We got enough.”
“We got enough?” Ian points at the body. “You just blew Marvin’s head off, Vince! This kind of sh*t doesn’t just accidentally happen.”
John scoffs and puts his pistol away. “This goes to the American government? It’s not something we need to be involved with. Robert, go out there and tell the Bureau we’re out. They can handle this thing themselves.”
Scarpedin grumbles. Bonnie sighs and casually wipes Thevenot’s blood off her face.
Robert looks at the body on the ground, then sees Wiji-wiji watching him.
“I think we lost this game,” Robert says.
They take a moment to collect themselves, then head out to ask Michael for some favors from the Bureau.
Richard Rawen
First Post
Corbert said:No, thank you for posting. Great story, very entertaining.
Still reading along on this one, wanted to echo Corbert's comment now rather than wait till I'm all caught up. This is great reading, a fun change of pace from 'Medieval' fantasy, and all around well written.
Thanks for sharing your time and imagination!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
All caught up, really great read, looking forward to finding out just which way they'll turn next... with the way these players make decisions how did you keep your RP going not knowing if they'd even stay on any particular course for long?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I'd hate to hijack the thread with bumpage...
of course another solution would be for the author to post . . .
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RangerWickett
Legend
My apologies for such a long delay. I've been working on D&D writing projects, so I let myself get distracted from fiction for quite a while. I'm going to take today to get back into the groove of the story, and then I'll get to posting.
RangerWickett
Legend
Session Thirteen, part three
After the intensity of the interrogation and resulting execution of Dick Thevenot, the Bureau office cafeteria feels hollow and subdued. The place is practically empty except for them - Robert and his group, plus Michael. There must be more agents at the door, but Robert wonders where everyone is eating now.
"If you want us to handle it," Michael says quietly, "you're going to have to either hand over Terry, or work with us."
The group of them - Robert, John, Scarpedin, Bonnie, Ian, and Wiji-wiji - are sharing a long table with Michael. There is an almost universal sigh of displeasure at the man's statement.
"I'm sorry," Michael says. "If this information is accurate, and one of the senators from Illinois is somehow involved with a plot to monopolize control of plane shifting, there aren't any other options. Except maybe we could ask the people behind all this to kindly give us rides back and forth so we can stop them."
Bonnie replies in crisp Irish lilt, "We could do it ourselves."
Robert looks at her in amusement. "Why are you even here with us? Aren't you a bouncer?"
Bonnie smiles and cocks her head. "Nathan said he thought I'd be useful, and eh, what else am I doing?"
Robert restrains himself, and looks back at Michael.
"Who even are the senators from Illinois? There's Obama, but I refuse to believe he's a bad guy."
"Hai," Wiji-wiji nods. "He seems so nice. He tarku so werru, just rike you Robato-san."
"There's Rollins," Michael says. "Nic Rollins, Democrat senator of Illinois since 1996. As far as we know, he has no association with the magic-using world."
Ian says, "A muggle, huh?"
Robert glares sidelong at Ian, then says, "Okay, none of that's important right now. Here's how it's going to be. We don't know who we can trust, so before Terry decides who he's going to go with, there are some favors we'd like to ask."
Michael shakes his head. "This sounds like you're making demands."
"Yeah well," Robert says, "I suppose nearly dying - again - brings out my inner bank robber. Thankfully, you look like you're more open to reason than your boss."
"Go on."
"Alright. We need to know more about this world. About you guys, the Bureau, and about the people who don't like you. I know that will probably take all day, so just get us, like a DVD with the information. I want to never have to deal with magic again, but if it comes up, I want to know who might want to kill me because I forgot to throw salt over my shoulder or something.
"I want a tour of this place. I want to know you're not growing secret brain slugs in the basement, so I want to see everything.
"And once we get all that, we'll decide what we're going to do. The guy we shot, he offered us fifty thousand dollars for Terry. Now, we weren't going to hand him over, but you might want to check your bank account. I'm just saying."
Michael reacts with aplomb. "I don't have much authority. Why don't we just go talk to the Chief directly?"
"We can't plane shift again until tomorrow," Robert says. "We have a two-a-day limit. Plus, . . . well not 'plus,' exactly. More like 'primarily.' Primarily, it's because your Chief's a dick. So how about you have your buddies get us some rooms, and then you can spend the rest of the day explaining why we shouldn't just go tell an actual government agency with some actual power, okay?"
For the next hour, Michael tells them about the history of the Bureau, about its general structure and function, and about his own experiences on the job. Along the way, Scarpedin asks if they can get cool magic weapons, while Robert subtly prods for information about the Bureau prison. Then, when the questions are starting to die out, Terry asks one of his own.
"Why is the Chief so worried about me?" he asks. "Why does he talk about me like I'm a thing and not a person? I know there are other ghosts that he has to deal with all the time, so what's the problem with me?"
Michael ponders for a moment, then says, "It all goes back to Legion."
That story takes quite a while to tell.
When it's over, they take a break to have some actual food, and the group discusses the situation.
John sums it up best.
"Why is this even a problem?" he says, "Before we knew about magic, everything was fine. Now, people who are magic can't get from Gaia to Terra, so it's almost like we're back where we started. Why don't we just say 'screw the Bureau,' and let things stay as they are?"
The idea is met with wide approval from everyone but Terry. When pressed, he admits that the only reason he stayed around after dying was to find out who was after him, and stop him. He wonders what's the point of existing as a ghost. Scarpedin tells him not to worry; they can still deal with the bad guy without the Bureau's help.
While the main group discusses whether it will be possible to avoid bringing down the Bureau's wrath on them, Robert steps aside with Wiji-wiji.
"So yeah," Robert says. "We're here, on Gaia in the Bureau, where there's supposed to be a prisoner."
"Hai," Wiji-wiji says. "You and I go, you pray Go, and zhen we go, okay?"
"Wiji-wiji, you do realize I don't have any idea how to play Go, right?"
Wiji-wiji stares blankly for a moment. "Hontou ja nai?"
"Sure," Robert says. "So what's the point? You want me to go, and lose a game, in a prison with a demon sorcerer. You're not going to tell me why, are you?"
Wiji-wiji squints, then slowly says, "Sumimasen. My Engrish is not werry good."
Robert nods, too tired to keep being afraid of the fey. He looks over his shoulder and shouts at Michael.
"Hey Michael? Can you let me into your prison here? I want to talk to-" he pauses and looks to Wiji-wiji.
"O-Ragumaro."
"To O-Ragumaro," Robert finishes, enunciating the Japanese name precisely.
Michael slowly approaches, looking like he's trying to place the name.
John walks over as well, and asks, "What's going on?"
"Nothing," Robert says. "Wiji-wiji wants me to play a game of Go with a Japanese sorcerer who is bonded to a demon, who they have in the prison here. Y'know, normal stuff."
"Oh," Michael says, "him. Why do you want to see him?"
Robert is watching Wiji-wiji, but then he looks at Michael with a start. "What? Oh, why? I don't know. Why do we want to see this guy Wiji-wiji?"
The rest of the group is watching now.
"It is a secretto," Wiji-wiji says. "I sorry, Robato-san, but I cannot terru you."
"Huh?" John says. He squints. "Robert, what the hell is going on?"
Robert shrugs. "I dunno. Honestly."
"Good," Wiji-wiji says. "Prease, you musta trusto me."
"Sure," Robert says convincingly. "I won't say another word about it."
For the next half hour, the group barrages Wiji-wiji with questions. True to his word, Robert stays quiet, just nursing a cup of coffee with a persistent smile on his face.
At the hour's end the group is frustrated, but ultimately convinced they won't get a straight answer from the fey. Wiji-wiji simply claims that what he needs to do is very important, but that for it to work no one can know what it is that he is doing. The others in the group can vaguely grasp the concept, but they don't really understand. It just seems like the fey is being contrary for no good reason.
When the conversation appears nearly over, Michael says, "It doesn't matter either way. I can't authorize any of you to see that prisoner."
"Well dammit," John says, "now I want to know what the big deal is. It will just be . . . irritating if we never find out. Wiji-wiji, can you tell us what was so important after you're done?"
Wiji-wiji nods. "Oh, hai."
"He's lying," Robert says, still smiling.
Ian scoffs. "Look, Uncle Enzo, I'm tired of this. Just go seduce Pocahontas, bring her back here, and have her let you do this thing. Then I can get some rest, and we can get back to absconding with 'the most valuable magic item in the world.'" He nods to Terry. "No offense, kid."
Wiji-wiji nods eagerly. "Hai. Werry good idea."
"So what do I get out of this?" Robert asks.
"Big giftu," Wiji-wiji answers. "I owe fava. Trust me."
Robert's smile falters. "Fine. What the hell else are we doing, anyway? Okay, tomorrow I'll go back to Terra, just me and Terry in case anything goes wrong. We'll get Jenny and just Jenny, and bring her back here. Mikey, if she gives the okay, will that work?"
Michael starts, "Ye-"
"Good," Robert says, then he drifts to a sigh. "Really. . . . really great."
After the intensity of the interrogation and resulting execution of Dick Thevenot, the Bureau office cafeteria feels hollow and subdued. The place is practically empty except for them - Robert and his group, plus Michael. There must be more agents at the door, but Robert wonders where everyone is eating now.
"If you want us to handle it," Michael says quietly, "you're going to have to either hand over Terry, or work with us."
The group of them - Robert, John, Scarpedin, Bonnie, Ian, and Wiji-wiji - are sharing a long table with Michael. There is an almost universal sigh of displeasure at the man's statement.
"I'm sorry," Michael says. "If this information is accurate, and one of the senators from Illinois is somehow involved with a plot to monopolize control of plane shifting, there aren't any other options. Except maybe we could ask the people behind all this to kindly give us rides back and forth so we can stop them."
Bonnie replies in crisp Irish lilt, "We could do it ourselves."
Robert looks at her in amusement. "Why are you even here with us? Aren't you a bouncer?"
Bonnie smiles and cocks her head. "Nathan said he thought I'd be useful, and eh, what else am I doing?"
Robert restrains himself, and looks back at Michael.
"Who even are the senators from Illinois? There's Obama, but I refuse to believe he's a bad guy."
"Hai," Wiji-wiji nods. "He seems so nice. He tarku so werru, just rike you Robato-san."
"There's Rollins," Michael says. "Nic Rollins, Democrat senator of Illinois since 1996. As far as we know, he has no association with the magic-using world."
Ian says, "A muggle, huh?"
Robert glares sidelong at Ian, then says, "Okay, none of that's important right now. Here's how it's going to be. We don't know who we can trust, so before Terry decides who he's going to go with, there are some favors we'd like to ask."
Michael shakes his head. "This sounds like you're making demands."
"Yeah well," Robert says, "I suppose nearly dying - again - brings out my inner bank robber. Thankfully, you look like you're more open to reason than your boss."
"Go on."
"Alright. We need to know more about this world. About you guys, the Bureau, and about the people who don't like you. I know that will probably take all day, so just get us, like a DVD with the information. I want to never have to deal with magic again, but if it comes up, I want to know who might want to kill me because I forgot to throw salt over my shoulder or something.
"I want a tour of this place. I want to know you're not growing secret brain slugs in the basement, so I want to see everything.
"And once we get all that, we'll decide what we're going to do. The guy we shot, he offered us fifty thousand dollars for Terry. Now, we weren't going to hand him over, but you might want to check your bank account. I'm just saying."
Michael reacts with aplomb. "I don't have much authority. Why don't we just go talk to the Chief directly?"
"We can't plane shift again until tomorrow," Robert says. "We have a two-a-day limit. Plus, . . . well not 'plus,' exactly. More like 'primarily.' Primarily, it's because your Chief's a dick. So how about you have your buddies get us some rooms, and then you can spend the rest of the day explaining why we shouldn't just go tell an actual government agency with some actual power, okay?"
For the next hour, Michael tells them about the history of the Bureau, about its general structure and function, and about his own experiences on the job. Along the way, Scarpedin asks if they can get cool magic weapons, while Robert subtly prods for information about the Bureau prison. Then, when the questions are starting to die out, Terry asks one of his own.
"Why is the Chief so worried about me?" he asks. "Why does he talk about me like I'm a thing and not a person? I know there are other ghosts that he has to deal with all the time, so what's the problem with me?"
Michael ponders for a moment, then says, "It all goes back to Legion."
That story takes quite a while to tell.
When it's over, they take a break to have some actual food, and the group discusses the situation.
John sums it up best.
"Why is this even a problem?" he says, "Before we knew about magic, everything was fine. Now, people who are magic can't get from Gaia to Terra, so it's almost like we're back where we started. Why don't we just say 'screw the Bureau,' and let things stay as they are?"
The idea is met with wide approval from everyone but Terry. When pressed, he admits that the only reason he stayed around after dying was to find out who was after him, and stop him. He wonders what's the point of existing as a ghost. Scarpedin tells him not to worry; they can still deal with the bad guy without the Bureau's help.
While the main group discusses whether it will be possible to avoid bringing down the Bureau's wrath on them, Robert steps aside with Wiji-wiji.
"So yeah," Robert says. "We're here, on Gaia in the Bureau, where there's supposed to be a prisoner."
"Hai," Wiji-wiji says. "You and I go, you pray Go, and zhen we go, okay?"
"Wiji-wiji, you do realize I don't have any idea how to play Go, right?"
Wiji-wiji stares blankly for a moment. "Hontou ja nai?"
"Sure," Robert says. "So what's the point? You want me to go, and lose a game, in a prison with a demon sorcerer. You're not going to tell me why, are you?"
Wiji-wiji squints, then slowly says, "Sumimasen. My Engrish is not werry good."
Robert nods, too tired to keep being afraid of the fey. He looks over his shoulder and shouts at Michael.
"Hey Michael? Can you let me into your prison here? I want to talk to-" he pauses and looks to Wiji-wiji.
"O-Ragumaro."
"To O-Ragumaro," Robert finishes, enunciating the Japanese name precisely.
Michael slowly approaches, looking like he's trying to place the name.
John walks over as well, and asks, "What's going on?"
"Nothing," Robert says. "Wiji-wiji wants me to play a game of Go with a Japanese sorcerer who is bonded to a demon, who they have in the prison here. Y'know, normal stuff."
"Oh," Michael says, "him. Why do you want to see him?"
Robert is watching Wiji-wiji, but then he looks at Michael with a start. "What? Oh, why? I don't know. Why do we want to see this guy Wiji-wiji?"
The rest of the group is watching now.
"It is a secretto," Wiji-wiji says. "I sorry, Robato-san, but I cannot terru you."
"Huh?" John says. He squints. "Robert, what the hell is going on?"
Robert shrugs. "I dunno. Honestly."
"Good," Wiji-wiji says. "Prease, you musta trusto me."
"Sure," Robert says convincingly. "I won't say another word about it."
* * *
For the next half hour, the group barrages Wiji-wiji with questions. True to his word, Robert stays quiet, just nursing a cup of coffee with a persistent smile on his face.
At the hour's end the group is frustrated, but ultimately convinced they won't get a straight answer from the fey. Wiji-wiji simply claims that what he needs to do is very important, but that for it to work no one can know what it is that he is doing. The others in the group can vaguely grasp the concept, but they don't really understand. It just seems like the fey is being contrary for no good reason.
When the conversation appears nearly over, Michael says, "It doesn't matter either way. I can't authorize any of you to see that prisoner."
"Well dammit," John says, "now I want to know what the big deal is. It will just be . . . irritating if we never find out. Wiji-wiji, can you tell us what was so important after you're done?"
Wiji-wiji nods. "Oh, hai."
"He's lying," Robert says, still smiling.
Ian scoffs. "Look, Uncle Enzo, I'm tired of this. Just go seduce Pocahontas, bring her back here, and have her let you do this thing. Then I can get some rest, and we can get back to absconding with 'the most valuable magic item in the world.'" He nods to Terry. "No offense, kid."
Wiji-wiji nods eagerly. "Hai. Werry good idea."
"So what do I get out of this?" Robert asks.
"Big giftu," Wiji-wiji answers. "I owe fava. Trust me."
Robert's smile falters. "Fine. What the hell else are we doing, anyway? Okay, tomorrow I'll go back to Terra, just me and Terry in case anything goes wrong. We'll get Jenny and just Jenny, and bring her back here. Mikey, if she gives the okay, will that work?"
Michael starts, "Ye-"
"Good," Robert says, then he drifts to a sigh. "Really. . . . really great."
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RangerWickett
Legend
Session Thirteen, part four
Robert sits in a car, waiting at the edge of the park, Terry quiet in the back seat, invisible to the sweet woman whom Robert talked into giving him a ride to his 'date'.
Jenny's car pulls up a quarter block away. She gets out, carrying a dufflebag and dressed in street clothes. She looks around, and Robert tries to notice any signs that she is sending signals to other Bureau agents who might be watching.
Robert looks to his kindly driver. "I think she might have gone to a different park. I . . . Oh look at the day I'm having. I forgot my phone. I really hate to ask, but-"
"Oh, no, please," the woman says. "The way you describe her, this girl sounds great. Go ahead, call her."
Robert smiles. "Thanks."
Jenny answers her phone, looking around nervously. "Robert?"
His voice on the other end of the line is cheery, like he's putting on an act. "Jenny! What park are you at?"
"Wright Square Park. That's where you told me to meet, Robert. Look, I need-"
"Uh huh?" Robert laughs. "Really, Jen? Forsyth Park?" He sounds like he's talking to someone else, his tone amused. "She's adorable. She went to where we first met. You know where Forsyth Park is?"
"Yes," Jenny says. "Robert, you told me to come alone, and I am. You can trust me."
"Sure thing, Jen," Robert chuckles. "I'll see you there in ten minutes, okay? You would not believe the day I'm having."
Jenny tosses her hair over her shoulder, smirks, and says, "You've watched way too many crime dramas, Robert. Sure, I'll be there."
Ten minutes later, Robert thanks the lady giving him a ride, hops out of the car, and strides toward the Forsyth Park fountain. Jenny is waiting for him, and Terry, walking beside him, is waiting for a signal to get out in a hurry.
"Jenny," Robert says, only a hint of dazzle in his voice.
"Hi Robert," Jenny says. "Where did you run off to?"
"I can show you if you'd like. Nice place, really. Lots of," he looks around the park, "trees."
"Sure," she says. "I'm all packed and ready to go, just like you said. But we're going alone?"
"Yeah," Robert says. "The rest of the group is waiting up. Hey, before you say anything else, you look great today."
Jenny's smile looks so sincere that Robert wonders just how much the woman likes him. Either she's very forgiving, or she is an excellent liar.
"You look really spirited," Jenny says. "I hope everyone's alright."
"Why wouldn't they be?" Robert laughs. "You ready to go?"
Jenny hesitates, and then her facade breaks. Her smile fades, and she looks slightly worried. "Look, Robert, are you okay? And Terry, you're okay?"
Robert leans back cautiously. "We're fine. You can see Terry."
Simultaneously she says, "My ghost, Pataman," and Terry says, "She has a ghost."
Robert chuckles. "So, what now? You going to ambush me?"
"No Robert," Jenny says, sighing in relief. "Just when I got your call, I couldn't be sure that you weren't possessed or charmed or an illusion. Pretty much the entire rest of the Bureau is watching this conversation, by the way."
"Oh," Robert says. "Then I want to make clear that I was completely sincere just now. You look great."
Jenny lowers an eyebrow dubiously. "Well we're at a park. Let's take a walk."
Robert glances at Terry, who shrugs and says, "Go for it. There's no anti-planeshift magic here."
Jenny and Robert begin to walk past the various monuments in the park, and Jenny speaks.
"I know that you're nervous, Robert. I'm trying to do my best to show you that you can trust me, so you don't run away again. A lot of strange things happened in the examination room, and our diviners had a hard time seeing through all the latent energy. The Chief thought you were in cahoots with 'Chuck Norris'-"
"Dick Thevenot," Robert interrupts. "That's his name. His ghost was fake, by the way. Another way your Bureau screwed up."
"We know that now," Jenny says. "We also know he attacked you. Honestly, is everyone alright?"
"Everyone but him," Robert says. "John shot him. Killed him." Robert makes himself appear a little overwhelmed by this.
After a moment, Robert shakes his head. "Anyway, why I came back is because we . . . because I want your help. We don't know if we can trust anybody, honestly, but I know we can trust you, and we found some things out. I'd feel more comfortable having you come and see what we're doing than 'the Chief.'"
"He won't like that," Jenny says, "but he was in the wrong with how he treated you. I, certainly, want to help. If you're willing to let me go with you . . . I'm guessing you have some secrets that you don't want broadcast to every agent watching us?"
Robert smiles. "Right. You know, this is why I like you. One reason at least. You . . . you understand what's going on. You know how to be reasonable. And, hopefully, you brought the things I asked you to."
Jenny nods. "It makes more sense now. I guess you plan to leave now?"
"You probably need to call your boss," Robert says.
Jenny smirks. "He'll be watching right now. And he doesn't need to worry. We'll go back to the offices on Gaia, talk about what's going on, and then come back once everything's straightened out. We should be back tomorrow, right?"
"I hope so," Robert lies. "I really just want to see that Terry will be safe. And you can show your boss that Terry won't become another 'Legion.'"
Jenny's eyes widen at the name, and before she can ask where he learned about it, Robert nods to Terry, and they all vanish.
Aside from a few dozen Bureau operatives, no one in the park was looking their way. Forsyth Park goes on with its normal, everyday existence.
Robert sits in a car, waiting at the edge of the park, Terry quiet in the back seat, invisible to the sweet woman whom Robert talked into giving him a ride to his 'date'.
Jenny's car pulls up a quarter block away. She gets out, carrying a dufflebag and dressed in street clothes. She looks around, and Robert tries to notice any signs that she is sending signals to other Bureau agents who might be watching.
Robert looks to his kindly driver. "I think she might have gone to a different park. I . . . Oh look at the day I'm having. I forgot my phone. I really hate to ask, but-"
"Oh, no, please," the woman says. "The way you describe her, this girl sounds great. Go ahead, call her."
Robert smiles. "Thanks."
* * *
Jenny answers her phone, looking around nervously. "Robert?"
His voice on the other end of the line is cheery, like he's putting on an act. "Jenny! What park are you at?"
"Wright Square Park. That's where you told me to meet, Robert. Look, I need-"
"Uh huh?" Robert laughs. "Really, Jen? Forsyth Park?" He sounds like he's talking to someone else, his tone amused. "She's adorable. She went to where we first met. You know where Forsyth Park is?"
"Yes," Jenny says. "Robert, you told me to come alone, and I am. You can trust me."
"Sure thing, Jen," Robert chuckles. "I'll see you there in ten minutes, okay? You would not believe the day I'm having."
Jenny tosses her hair over her shoulder, smirks, and says, "You've watched way too many crime dramas, Robert. Sure, I'll be there."
* * *
Ten minutes later, Robert thanks the lady giving him a ride, hops out of the car, and strides toward the Forsyth Park fountain. Jenny is waiting for him, and Terry, walking beside him, is waiting for a signal to get out in a hurry.
"Jenny," Robert says, only a hint of dazzle in his voice.
"Hi Robert," Jenny says. "Where did you run off to?"
"I can show you if you'd like. Nice place, really. Lots of," he looks around the park, "trees."
"Sure," she says. "I'm all packed and ready to go, just like you said. But we're going alone?"
"Yeah," Robert says. "The rest of the group is waiting up. Hey, before you say anything else, you look great today."
Jenny's smile looks so sincere that Robert wonders just how much the woman likes him. Either she's very forgiving, or she is an excellent liar.
"You look really spirited," Jenny says. "I hope everyone's alright."
"Why wouldn't they be?" Robert laughs. "You ready to go?"
Jenny hesitates, and then her facade breaks. Her smile fades, and she looks slightly worried. "Look, Robert, are you okay? And Terry, you're okay?"
Robert leans back cautiously. "We're fine. You can see Terry."
Simultaneously she says, "My ghost, Pataman," and Terry says, "She has a ghost."
Robert chuckles. "So, what now? You going to ambush me?"
"No Robert," Jenny says, sighing in relief. "Just when I got your call, I couldn't be sure that you weren't possessed or charmed or an illusion. Pretty much the entire rest of the Bureau is watching this conversation, by the way."
"Oh," Robert says. "Then I want to make clear that I was completely sincere just now. You look great."
Jenny lowers an eyebrow dubiously. "Well we're at a park. Let's take a walk."
Robert glances at Terry, who shrugs and says, "Go for it. There's no anti-planeshift magic here."
Jenny and Robert begin to walk past the various monuments in the park, and Jenny speaks.
"I know that you're nervous, Robert. I'm trying to do my best to show you that you can trust me, so you don't run away again. A lot of strange things happened in the examination room, and our diviners had a hard time seeing through all the latent energy. The Chief thought you were in cahoots with 'Chuck Norris'-"
"Dick Thevenot," Robert interrupts. "That's his name. His ghost was fake, by the way. Another way your Bureau screwed up."
"We know that now," Jenny says. "We also know he attacked you. Honestly, is everyone alright?"
"Everyone but him," Robert says. "John shot him. Killed him." Robert makes himself appear a little overwhelmed by this.
After a moment, Robert shakes his head. "Anyway, why I came back is because we . . . because I want your help. We don't know if we can trust anybody, honestly, but I know we can trust you, and we found some things out. I'd feel more comfortable having you come and see what we're doing than 'the Chief.'"
"He won't like that," Jenny says, "but he was in the wrong with how he treated you. I, certainly, want to help. If you're willing to let me go with you . . . I'm guessing you have some secrets that you don't want broadcast to every agent watching us?"
Robert smiles. "Right. You know, this is why I like you. One reason at least. You . . . you understand what's going on. You know how to be reasonable. And, hopefully, you brought the things I asked you to."
Jenny nods. "It makes more sense now. I guess you plan to leave now?"
"You probably need to call your boss," Robert says.
Jenny smirks. "He'll be watching right now. And he doesn't need to worry. We'll go back to the offices on Gaia, talk about what's going on, and then come back once everything's straightened out. We should be back tomorrow, right?"
"I hope so," Robert lies. "I really just want to see that Terry will be safe. And you can show your boss that Terry won't become another 'Legion.'"
Jenny's eyes widen at the name, and before she can ask where he learned about it, Robert nods to Terry, and they all vanish.
Aside from a few dozen Bureau operatives, no one in the park was looking their way. Forsyth Park goes on with its normal, everyday existence.
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RangerWickett
Legend
Session Thirteen, Part Five
The transition from Forsyth Park to the sparse woods of Gaian Savannah is actually not that jarring. Robert graciously picks up Jenny's duffle bag, nods to her ghost Pataman politely, then gestures toward the distant Bureau offices. They walk.
Robert says, "Yeah, I know about Legion. Michael told us. Some ghost managed to survive after the guy it bonded to died, and it hopped around from person to person until it turned evil and started killing dragons." He says the last part with a verbal flourish, amused by the idea.
Jenny nods. "The older he got, the stronger he became, and he was able to cast spells himself. Most ghosts just give the living power to use magic."
She looks at Terry's ghost. "I mean, you can see why the Chief would see a parallel with you, right?"
Terry glowers. "From what Michael told us, it sounds like you were just pissed because 'dragons' provide a lot of funding for you, and you didn't like your donors being killed. Well, y'know, I'm not looking to kill any dragons, so you can keep up your extortion racket."
Jenny's expression darkens. "Legion killed three agents. And a lot of innocent people, along the years."
Robert and Terry exchange an uncomfortable glance.
Jenny nods. "Yeah, Michael wouldn't have mentioned that. Did he mention that Legion possessed him too, and that one of the agents killed was his girlfriend at the time?"
"Sh*t," Terry says. "I'm sorry."
"It was years ago," Jenny says. "Don't worry about it."
Robert says, "He did mention that something went on with the telepaths -- one of them betrayed the Bureau to work with this Legion guy, and that's why your boss has a problem with Nathan. Did he leave anything important out there?"
"A little bitter?" Jenny asks.
"It just seems like everybody's got a problem with just telling the total truth." Robert shrugs, momentarily disturbed by his own hypocrisy. "I know your whole job is to keep secrets, and that's seriously frustrating us, Jenny. John and Scarpedin practically want to just go on the internet and tell everyone the truth about magic."
Jenny chuckles, then sighs. "I used to feel the same way."
Terry asks, "What changed your mind?
"I don't know," she says quietly. "After enough time doing this job, I guess I stopped questioning it."
They walk quietly for a few moments.
Jenny says, "Yes, he left something important out. One of the telepaths killed by Legion -- or rather by Autumn, his accomplice -- was J'quwon, a . . . I don't suppose you know about though eaters, do you?"
A memory assaults Robert, of tentacles and eyes peering out from shadows in the New Orleans night. For a moment he thinks he feels something writhing inside his tongue and he coughs, but then the sensation passes.
"I know about 'em," Robert says. "We saw one in New Orleans."
"Well," Jenny says, "J'quwon was the Chief's friend, or as close as either of those two could have had to it. Honestly, he was creepy, since it felt like he always knew what you were thinking, but kept the rest of the Bureau honest. I think that since he died, as strange as it is, things have gotten worse."
"Weird," Robert says. "So, any other secrets?"
Jenny shrugs. "I tried to date Sean - Tagin, the guy who does our tech work. When I left, they had him under examination to see if he was charmed, to find out why he just let you guys in with the prisoner. And now that we're back to this topic, what actually happened there?"
"Sure thing," Robert says. "But first, I um . . . I need a favor. I need you to let me into your prison. There's a guy I need to see. O-Ragumaro."
Jenny stops and looks at Robert with bemusement. "Alright, I'm going to need an explanation for this. Why do you need to see a Japanese sorcerer?"
Robert looks chagrined, and Terry laughs.
"Oh, we wish we knew," he chuckles.
Robert and Wiji-wiji stop outside the cell door. The prison is dark, short hallways and thick walls composed of strange alloys and unique magic holding an undisclosed number of prisoners too dangerous to kill. Robert errantly fingers the golden Japanese coin Wiji-wiji gave him as a prize back in the Renaissance Festival. It shocks him to realize it's only November 3rd today, and that he first met Wiji-wiji less than a week ago.
He knows there are no cameras watching the cell. No eyes peering inside other than his own and his strange Japanese companion's. Through the etched glass view hole of the cell door, he can see the aged sorcerer, his skin withered gray and skeletal, his eyes invisible amid wrinkles, his arms and legs chained together like a Depression-era convict working on the railroad, and a magic-suppressing collar around his neck, slightly hidden by the folds of his tattered green kimono.
The sorcerer's head tilts up ever so slightly, and turns to face them. Robert releases the coin in his pocket with a start, and he wishes that he had not been quite so effective in convincing Jenny to let them do this.
He again wonders why he did, and all he can decide is that he is either too afraid of Wiji-wiji, or he actually trusts the fey.
Robert forces out a chuckle at the thought, then pulls out the antiquated key Jenny gave him. He waves down the darkened hall to the squad of Bureau agents watching in the distance, and with an audible click and hiss of pressure, the door to the cell opens a crack.
Wiji-wiji told him exactly what to do and what to expect, and has given him a crash course on Go rules and strategy. Jenny assured him that never in the sixty years they have kept O-Ragumaro has he tried to escape. And yet still, Robert is fairly certain something is going to go very badly. He takes a breathe, and pushes open the door. Wiji-wiji follows him, and closes the door behind them.
Both Wiji-wij and Robert bow, and the sorcerer slightly tilts his head in response. Wiji-wiji holds out an ornate, traditionally-crafted Go board, complete with four bowls for beads. While Robert wonders where the slight man was hiding all these things, Wiji-wiji begins to place the board on the ground and speak in Japanese. Something about his voice is different - less jovial, more polite, the words much longer than Robert is used to. It sounds like he is addressing an employer, or an old, respected relative.
Wiji-wiji finishes, and O-Ragumaro nods, gesturing with one hand to the floor. The chains on his arms clink, and at this cue, Robert cautiously steps over next to the sorcerer and reaches for the locks on the bonds. Meanwhile, Wiji-wiji again miraculously produces a pair of rice-straw mats and lays them on the floor.
The lock turns, and the cuffs fall away. The skin under the cuffs is worn to the bone, but the demon-bonded magus does not seem to care. Robert awkwardly bows again then backs away, and both he and Wiji-wiji kneel across from the sorcerer, the board laid out between them, a bowl of black or white beads on either side.
Majestically, O-Ragumaro stands, his kimono roiling about him like a wave on a stormy sea. Then, almost meekly, the ancient sorcerer kneels as well, picks up a black bead, and places it on the board.
Okay, Robert thinks to himself, time to figure out how to cheat.
A few times he tries palming beads and placing them elsewhere while he makes his moves, but each time the sorcerer notices and says something to Wiji-wiji, who then directs Robert to put the piece back. He tries to drop two beads at once while clearing his throat to distract the old guy's attention, but it doesn't work either. When the magus catches him cheating by trying to switch a white bead for a black one, he is thankful that the evil demon-bonded sorcerer isn't a bad sport, but he's no closer to winning.
Then, just as he's beginning to contemplate flipping the board and ending in a draw, O-Ragumaro makes a slight wave of his hand instead of placing a bead, and Wiji-wiji gasps.
"Oh," he says. "He passes."
Robert looks at the board, covered in beads - many more of the sorcerer's black beads than his own white ones. Confused, he picks up one of his beads and places it. He notices Wiji-wiji frowning next to him, then sees O-Ragumaro again gesture that he's passing. Robert shrugs, feeling lucky that his opponent is cocky enough to give him extra turns, and he places another bead, thinking that he's finally getting a feel for the game.
Again the sorcerer passes, and again Robert places a bead, but with growing trepidation. This repeats a half-dozen more times, until Robert realizes he's just filling in spaces already controlled by his opponent. He sees that eventually he'll run out of spaces. He is trapped, and he did not even notice it. He has already lost.
Robert concentrates, looking for a trick he can pull. Then he hears Wiji-wiji whisper to him, "Domo arigato gozaimasu, Robato-san."
Despite all his instincts, Robert lifts a hand, and waves over the board. "I pass."
O-Ragumaro bends his head in a seated bow, as does Wiji-wiji. Robert leans back, pulls his legs out from himself, and sits cross-legged on the floor.
"Best of three?" he suggests.
But the two Japanese men ignore him. Wiji-wiji begins speaking, and finally O-Ragumaro responds, his voice windy, and Robert thinks he hears the voice hissing through a hole in the old man's neck. The words are all gibberish, but Robert senses something building, a power gathering in the room.
Wiji-wiji listens to the sorcerer, then nods and stands. He looks once at Robert, his expression apologetic, and then he steps over to O-Ragumaro and removes the mage's collar. Robert leaps up and tries to stop him, but then his legs go weak, his vision blurs, and he stumbles forward, landing on the Go board and scattering white and black beads in all directions. As he blacks out, Robert chides himself for not thinking to fake getting sick. That one just might have worked.
The transition from Forsyth Park to the sparse woods of Gaian Savannah is actually not that jarring. Robert graciously picks up Jenny's duffle bag, nods to her ghost Pataman politely, then gestures toward the distant Bureau offices. They walk.
Robert says, "Yeah, I know about Legion. Michael told us. Some ghost managed to survive after the guy it bonded to died, and it hopped around from person to person until it turned evil and started killing dragons." He says the last part with a verbal flourish, amused by the idea.
Jenny nods. "The older he got, the stronger he became, and he was able to cast spells himself. Most ghosts just give the living power to use magic."
She looks at Terry's ghost. "I mean, you can see why the Chief would see a parallel with you, right?"
Terry glowers. "From what Michael told us, it sounds like you were just pissed because 'dragons' provide a lot of funding for you, and you didn't like your donors being killed. Well, y'know, I'm not looking to kill any dragons, so you can keep up your extortion racket."
Jenny's expression darkens. "Legion killed three agents. And a lot of innocent people, along the years."
Robert and Terry exchange an uncomfortable glance.
Jenny nods. "Yeah, Michael wouldn't have mentioned that. Did he mention that Legion possessed him too, and that one of the agents killed was his girlfriend at the time?"
"Sh*t," Terry says. "I'm sorry."
"It was years ago," Jenny says. "Don't worry about it."
Robert says, "He did mention that something went on with the telepaths -- one of them betrayed the Bureau to work with this Legion guy, and that's why your boss has a problem with Nathan. Did he leave anything important out there?"
"A little bitter?" Jenny asks.
"It just seems like everybody's got a problem with just telling the total truth." Robert shrugs, momentarily disturbed by his own hypocrisy. "I know your whole job is to keep secrets, and that's seriously frustrating us, Jenny. John and Scarpedin practically want to just go on the internet and tell everyone the truth about magic."
Jenny chuckles, then sighs. "I used to feel the same way."
Terry asks, "What changed your mind?
"I don't know," she says quietly. "After enough time doing this job, I guess I stopped questioning it."
They walk quietly for a few moments.
Jenny says, "Yes, he left something important out. One of the telepaths killed by Legion -- or rather by Autumn, his accomplice -- was J'quwon, a . . . I don't suppose you know about though eaters, do you?"
A memory assaults Robert, of tentacles and eyes peering out from shadows in the New Orleans night. For a moment he thinks he feels something writhing inside his tongue and he coughs, but then the sensation passes.
"I know about 'em," Robert says. "We saw one in New Orleans."
"Well," Jenny says, "J'quwon was the Chief's friend, or as close as either of those two could have had to it. Honestly, he was creepy, since it felt like he always knew what you were thinking, but kept the rest of the Bureau honest. I think that since he died, as strange as it is, things have gotten worse."
"Weird," Robert says. "So, any other secrets?"
Jenny shrugs. "I tried to date Sean - Tagin, the guy who does our tech work. When I left, they had him under examination to see if he was charmed, to find out why he just let you guys in with the prisoner. And now that we're back to this topic, what actually happened there?"
"Sure thing," Robert says. "But first, I um . . . I need a favor. I need you to let me into your prison. There's a guy I need to see. O-Ragumaro."
Jenny stops and looks at Robert with bemusement. "Alright, I'm going to need an explanation for this. Why do you need to see a Japanese sorcerer?"
Robert looks chagrined, and Terry laughs.
"Oh, we wish we knew," he chuckles.
* * *
Robert and Wiji-wiji stop outside the cell door. The prison is dark, short hallways and thick walls composed of strange alloys and unique magic holding an undisclosed number of prisoners too dangerous to kill. Robert errantly fingers the golden Japanese coin Wiji-wiji gave him as a prize back in the Renaissance Festival. It shocks him to realize it's only November 3rd today, and that he first met Wiji-wiji less than a week ago.
He knows there are no cameras watching the cell. No eyes peering inside other than his own and his strange Japanese companion's. Through the etched glass view hole of the cell door, he can see the aged sorcerer, his skin withered gray and skeletal, his eyes invisible amid wrinkles, his arms and legs chained together like a Depression-era convict working on the railroad, and a magic-suppressing collar around his neck, slightly hidden by the folds of his tattered green kimono.
The sorcerer's head tilts up ever so slightly, and turns to face them. Robert releases the coin in his pocket with a start, and he wishes that he had not been quite so effective in convincing Jenny to let them do this.
He again wonders why he did, and all he can decide is that he is either too afraid of Wiji-wiji, or he actually trusts the fey.
Robert forces out a chuckle at the thought, then pulls out the antiquated key Jenny gave him. He waves down the darkened hall to the squad of Bureau agents watching in the distance, and with an audible click and hiss of pressure, the door to the cell opens a crack.
Wiji-wiji told him exactly what to do and what to expect, and has given him a crash course on Go rules and strategy. Jenny assured him that never in the sixty years they have kept O-Ragumaro has he tried to escape. And yet still, Robert is fairly certain something is going to go very badly. He takes a breathe, and pushes open the door. Wiji-wiji follows him, and closes the door behind them.
Both Wiji-wij and Robert bow, and the sorcerer slightly tilts his head in response. Wiji-wiji holds out an ornate, traditionally-crafted Go board, complete with four bowls for beads. While Robert wonders where the slight man was hiding all these things, Wiji-wiji begins to place the board on the ground and speak in Japanese. Something about his voice is different - less jovial, more polite, the words much longer than Robert is used to. It sounds like he is addressing an employer, or an old, respected relative.
Wiji-wiji finishes, and O-Ragumaro nods, gesturing with one hand to the floor. The chains on his arms clink, and at this cue, Robert cautiously steps over next to the sorcerer and reaches for the locks on the bonds. Meanwhile, Wiji-wiji again miraculously produces a pair of rice-straw mats and lays them on the floor.
The lock turns, and the cuffs fall away. The skin under the cuffs is worn to the bone, but the demon-bonded magus does not seem to care. Robert awkwardly bows again then backs away, and both he and Wiji-wiji kneel across from the sorcerer, the board laid out between them, a bowl of black or white beads on either side.
Majestically, O-Ragumaro stands, his kimono roiling about him like a wave on a stormy sea. Then, almost meekly, the ancient sorcerer kneels as well, picks up a black bead, and places it on the board.
Okay, Robert thinks to himself, time to figure out how to cheat.
A few times he tries palming beads and placing them elsewhere while he makes his moves, but each time the sorcerer notices and says something to Wiji-wiji, who then directs Robert to put the piece back. He tries to drop two beads at once while clearing his throat to distract the old guy's attention, but it doesn't work either. When the magus catches him cheating by trying to switch a white bead for a black one, he is thankful that the evil demon-bonded sorcerer isn't a bad sport, but he's no closer to winning.
Then, just as he's beginning to contemplate flipping the board and ending in a draw, O-Ragumaro makes a slight wave of his hand instead of placing a bead, and Wiji-wiji gasps.
"Oh," he says. "He passes."
Robert looks at the board, covered in beads - many more of the sorcerer's black beads than his own white ones. Confused, he picks up one of his beads and places it. He notices Wiji-wiji frowning next to him, then sees O-Ragumaro again gesture that he's passing. Robert shrugs, feeling lucky that his opponent is cocky enough to give him extra turns, and he places another bead, thinking that he's finally getting a feel for the game.
Again the sorcerer passes, and again Robert places a bead, but with growing trepidation. This repeats a half-dozen more times, until Robert realizes he's just filling in spaces already controlled by his opponent. He sees that eventually he'll run out of spaces. He is trapped, and he did not even notice it. He has already lost.
Robert concentrates, looking for a trick he can pull. Then he hears Wiji-wiji whisper to him, "Domo arigato gozaimasu, Robato-san."
Despite all his instincts, Robert lifts a hand, and waves over the board. "I pass."
O-Ragumaro bends his head in a seated bow, as does Wiji-wiji. Robert leans back, pulls his legs out from himself, and sits cross-legged on the floor.
"Best of three?" he suggests.
But the two Japanese men ignore him. Wiji-wiji begins speaking, and finally O-Ragumaro responds, his voice windy, and Robert thinks he hears the voice hissing through a hole in the old man's neck. The words are all gibberish, but Robert senses something building, a power gathering in the room.
Wiji-wiji listens to the sorcerer, then nods and stands. He looks once at Robert, his expression apologetic, and then he steps over to O-Ragumaro and removes the mage's collar. Robert leaps up and tries to stop him, but then his legs go weak, his vision blurs, and he stumbles forward, landing on the Go board and scattering white and black beads in all directions. As he blacks out, Robert chides himself for not thinking to fake getting sick. That one just might have worked.
Last edited:
RangerWickett
Legend
Session Thirteen, Part Six
Scarpedin chugs his Dr. Pepper, then sets it down next to the Scrabble board. He glances at Robert, and again feels a tinge of nervousness. Robert has been like a brother to him these past few days, a firm ally when the sh*t hit the fan. And the fan has been pretty well coated ever since he met Robert.
"123 pointsu," Wiji-wiji says.
Scarpedin, glad for the distraction, looks at the Scrabble board.
"That's your total?" he asks.
Wiji-wiji shakes his head and points at the board. "One word. Taking rong time to carcurate. Gomenasai."
Scarpedin waves off the man's apology. The guy's got the game pretty sealed, it looks like.
Over the quiet hum of the medical equipment tracking Robert's health, Wiji-wiji quietly clears his throat.
"You appear . . . ano . . . werry worried. Za game is no fun?"
Scarpedin shrugs. "I dunno. I figured you had, like, magic powers and sh*t. Y'know, like this game was supposed to heal him or something."
The board is covered with medical terminology: Scarpedin's attempt to invoke magic to cure whatever is wrong with Robert. Words like 'bandaid,' 'HMO,' and 'cocaine.'
"No," Wiji-wiji laughs. "Robato-san just has concussion. Anata no atama ga itai, yo. We pray gamu to keep him company, ne?"
"Yeah, I suppose." Scarpedin grunts. "Waste of time. This is not what knights do. This is what modern Americans on soap operas do."
"You modan Americajin?"
Scarpedin shakes his head. He does it, and he expects something dramatic to happen, because he feels like he's reached a turning point. The closest he gets is Wiji-wiji turning over a Scrabble piece on the board, then sighing and putting it back.
"Game much easier if you cheato."
Scarpedin leans back in his chair, bored. He looks at Robert, then Wiji-wiji.
"So, Weej, you got anything to do?"
Wiji-wiji adjusts his suit. "Wanna go getto Excaribur? Werry powafaru katana."
"Sure," Scarpedin says.
They stand up, and Wiji-wiji nods for the door. "Forrow me."
As they walk out, leaving the Scrabble board behind, Scarpedin asks, "This gonna take a long time?"
"Hai."
"You know, Excalibur's not really a katana. It's more like a light saber."
"Crose enough."
A few hours later, Robert is awake, looking at the completed Scrabble game lying inexplicably beside his bed. His head throbs a little still, but nothing seems too bad. John had been in a moment before, filling him on what had happened, and Robert knows he should be back in a minute with the rest of the gang.
The rest of the gang. Robert frowns at the thought. He doesn't like considering any of these people friends. Scarpedin and Wiji-wiji have apparently left for good; some agents Jenny sent reported that they'd been seen boarding a ship that set sail for England. John claims that Ian and Bonnie plan to come with them, Bonnie because she and Terry are starting to get along, and Ian because he claims to like their style.
He's pretty sure he could get them to leave him alone, but he's not sure he wants to. Keeping them around might help him figure out what's going on. Some jackass is behind all this, and while Robert couldn't give a damn about helping the Bureau, he's never been one to let an *sshole get away if he could do anything about it.
But first, there's the puzzle Wiji-wiji has left.
Robert hears someone approaching and slides a smile on with seconds to spare before they walk through the door.
"Hey Jenny," he says. "And John. And Terry. Bonnie. Um . . . Ian?"
The group each nod a reply. John, Terry's ghost at his side, gestures for Jenny to take a look. Jenny gives Robert a brief concerned smile as she walks up and looks down at the board. Amid an array of medical terms who, according to the score sheet, were placed by Scarpedin, there are seven words placed by Wiji-wiji. Jenny says them out loud.
"Chicago. Paris. Nagasaki. Wellington. Machu Picchu. Qantir. Leng. What are these?"
"They're illegal plays," Bonnie says with a grin. "Ye can't use proper nouns in Scrabble."
"They're seven cities," John says, "like the 'vision' Nathan had yesterday."
Ian grumbles, "And let me guess. We're going to have to find out what they mean?"
Giovanni, Ian's aged Spanish inquisitor ghost, sneers and says, "We have no need of pagan fortune-telling."
Robert sits up, slides his legs off the bed, and stands, only showing his wooziness for a moment. He takes the Scrabble board and folds it, ruining the tiles.
"Creepy dead guy knows what he's talking about for once," he says. "I'm through with playing games. We're not doing this. We all decided, this isn't our business, right?"
There's a ring of nods, Bonnie and Terry grinning a little, Ian looking relieved.
"Jenny," Robert continues, "if you'd like we can drop you off back with your boss on Terra, but we're . . . we're going to leave."
"Can I come?" Ian asks.
Robert actually has trouble faking enthusiasm for his. "Sure, why not?"
He realizes that Jenny hasn't been paying perfect attention. Her eyes are half closed, and she glances at him. "I really hope I remember how all those city names were spelled. And Robert, I'm not leaving."
Robert leans forward, surprised.
"I'm going with you," Jenny says. "Wherever you go. I won't even tell the Chief."
John scoffs. "I don't believe it."
Jenny smiles disarmingly. "I might still want to do something about what's going on, but if anything, you all have shown that the Bureau aren't the ones who are going to fix this. I can help you get away from the Chief safely, and if Terry doesn't object, I'd like to try to convince him to eventually come back and help. But it's not too urgent. Sound good Terry?"
Terry's ghost shakes his head in amusement. "Hell, I'm bringing you along even if they don't want you. I need somebody else who wants to find out what's going on."
Robert isn't sure how to feel. He won't deny that Jenny will be useful, but he expects she might be an impediment in the long run. And he does not believe her change of heart at all.
So he smiles, and says, "This is great. I'll tell you guys all about my harrowing," he chuckles, "Go-playing experience, and we can get some supplies for our little fugitive flight."
And so over the next hour, the group talks about what they would need and what Jenny can get them. Jenny leaves detailed information for Michael, prepares a package to be delivered to the Bureau offices on Terra so that they don't have to set foot there again, and then gets a laptop with thousands of files on magic, to keep them informed on their trip, wherever they decide to go. The current plan is to stay as far away as possible from the seven cities from the Scrabble game.
Michael tries to convince Jenny what she's doing is a bad idea, but he doesn't try to stop them. Robert is glad he was smart enough to know better.
Around noon, Terry plane shifts them to Terra, and while they walk with Jenny to deliver her package, Robert feels a buzz from his phone, telling him he has voicemail. He dials and listens to a message.
Nathan's voice says, "Robert old chap, if I'm right, you'll be getting this when you're not sure quite where to go, so I took the liberty of arranging an appointment you might be interested in. Swing by the Virgin Mobile store on Lynn Boulevard at 1pm on November 3rd. Have a safe trip. If you need to reach me, I'll be in New York, fighting vampires I think. Otherwise, I'll see you soon enough, I feel. Oh, and tell Ian he'll get the compensation he deserves."
"What was that?" Jenny asks, coming out of the post office.
"Nathan," Robert laughs. "He wants us to go to a Virgin Mobile store in . . . half an hour."
"Why not?" John says. "It wouldn't be the craziest thing we've done."
Bonnie taps her hip flask, which sounds hollow. With mild disappointment she says, "If Nathan said to do it, then I owe the English pig. He did tell me to keep ye safe, after all."
Ian sounds nervous. "I don't want to stay in this city any longer than I have to unless there's money involved."
With a smile, Robert says, "And Nathan said I should tell you you'll get the compensation you deserve."
Ian's eyes light up. "I suppose I can afford to take a look."
Robert turns to Jenny. "Do you know where Lynn Boulevard is?"
"Of course I do," she says.
She pulls out her phone. It's a Virgin product.
Less than half an hour later, the group is greeted by a frantic Virgin Mobile clerk who looks like Keenan Ivory Wayans. He claims they are expected, that everything is ready, and that he can get them coffee if they'd like, all while ushering them into a teleconference room. The feed is already live, and in the background of wherever it is are people in casual business attire.
Robert is wondering what the hell is going when the clock quietly chimes 1 o'clock, and a man steps into frame of the camera. He's middle-aged, with white hair that looks a little uncontrollable, and a confident gleam in his eyes. Robert shakes his head in frustration, because Scarpedin's little game is starting to irritate him. He knows the man looks like someone famous, but he can't place who.
"Hello there," says the man with an educated British accent. "You might not know me. My name is Richard Branson, president of Virgin Enterprises. I understand that you've recently gotten involved with . . . well, magic, and I wanted to offer you a business proposal."
The group exchange glances, and then Robert gestures for him to go on.
"I'd like you to be heroes, if that's not too much trouble. And I'm willing to pay you."
Robert chuckles. "Mr. . . . Branson, is it? Your offer is nice, really. But honestly, we're not the 'heroes' type."
"Oh, obviously," says the Rebel Billionaire with a sarcastic grin. "I know what happened in New Orleans, at least vaguely. That's how you came to my attention. I just thought it would be nice, you being so new to this and all, to have a . . . a documentary, of sorts. Consider it endorsing the arts, like the rich used to do in the Renaissance."
"Look, Rich," Robert says, "we've got this other whole gig lined up. You know, some thing about saving the world. I'm not too clear on the specifics. Like you said," he chuckles, "we're new at this."
"Save the world?" Branson smiles broadly. "That would make an excellent sales pitch, don't you think? This really would be a hands-off deal for you. I would endorse you, be a backer, and in exchange all I would like is rights to movies and such based on heroic exploits. Which, given your recent history, I imagine should be rather spectacular. You're ethnically diverse. I'm not sure quite how we would produce it, but I'm confident it will be a hit."
"This is surreal," John says quietly.
"Um, Mr. Branson?" interrupts Ian, voice gruff. "You mentioned payment? Just hypothetically, you know, how much would that be?"
Branson nods. "I was thinking about twenty thousand dollars a week. To a minimum of a million dollars total. I assume saving the world should take at least a year, of course."
While everyone else's mouths hang open, Robert replies.
"Of course."
End of thirteenth session.
Scarpedin chugs his Dr. Pepper, then sets it down next to the Scrabble board. He glances at Robert, and again feels a tinge of nervousness. Robert has been like a brother to him these past few days, a firm ally when the sh*t hit the fan. And the fan has been pretty well coated ever since he met Robert.
"123 pointsu," Wiji-wiji says.
Scarpedin, glad for the distraction, looks at the Scrabble board.
"That's your total?" he asks.
Wiji-wiji shakes his head and points at the board. "One word. Taking rong time to carcurate. Gomenasai."
Scarpedin waves off the man's apology. The guy's got the game pretty sealed, it looks like.
Over the quiet hum of the medical equipment tracking Robert's health, Wiji-wiji quietly clears his throat.
"You appear . . . ano . . . werry worried. Za game is no fun?"
Scarpedin shrugs. "I dunno. I figured you had, like, magic powers and sh*t. Y'know, like this game was supposed to heal him or something."
The board is covered with medical terminology: Scarpedin's attempt to invoke magic to cure whatever is wrong with Robert. Words like 'bandaid,' 'HMO,' and 'cocaine.'
"No," Wiji-wiji laughs. "Robato-san just has concussion. Anata no atama ga itai, yo. We pray gamu to keep him company, ne?"
"Yeah, I suppose." Scarpedin grunts. "Waste of time. This is not what knights do. This is what modern Americans on soap operas do."
"You modan Americajin?"
Scarpedin shakes his head. He does it, and he expects something dramatic to happen, because he feels like he's reached a turning point. The closest he gets is Wiji-wiji turning over a Scrabble piece on the board, then sighing and putting it back.
"Game much easier if you cheato."
Scarpedin leans back in his chair, bored. He looks at Robert, then Wiji-wiji.
"So, Weej, you got anything to do?"
Wiji-wiji adjusts his suit. "Wanna go getto Excaribur? Werry powafaru katana."
"Sure," Scarpedin says.
They stand up, and Wiji-wiji nods for the door. "Forrow me."
As they walk out, leaving the Scrabble board behind, Scarpedin asks, "This gonna take a long time?"
"Hai."
"You know, Excalibur's not really a katana. It's more like a light saber."
"Crose enough."
* * *
A few hours later, Robert is awake, looking at the completed Scrabble game lying inexplicably beside his bed. His head throbs a little still, but nothing seems too bad. John had been in a moment before, filling him on what had happened, and Robert knows he should be back in a minute with the rest of the gang.
The rest of the gang. Robert frowns at the thought. He doesn't like considering any of these people friends. Scarpedin and Wiji-wiji have apparently left for good; some agents Jenny sent reported that they'd been seen boarding a ship that set sail for England. John claims that Ian and Bonnie plan to come with them, Bonnie because she and Terry are starting to get along, and Ian because he claims to like their style.
He's pretty sure he could get them to leave him alone, but he's not sure he wants to. Keeping them around might help him figure out what's going on. Some jackass is behind all this, and while Robert couldn't give a damn about helping the Bureau, he's never been one to let an *sshole get away if he could do anything about it.
But first, there's the puzzle Wiji-wiji has left.
Robert hears someone approaching and slides a smile on with seconds to spare before they walk through the door.
"Hey Jenny," he says. "And John. And Terry. Bonnie. Um . . . Ian?"
The group each nod a reply. John, Terry's ghost at his side, gestures for Jenny to take a look. Jenny gives Robert a brief concerned smile as she walks up and looks down at the board. Amid an array of medical terms who, according to the score sheet, were placed by Scarpedin, there are seven words placed by Wiji-wiji. Jenny says them out loud.
"Chicago. Paris. Nagasaki. Wellington. Machu Picchu. Qantir. Leng. What are these?"
"They're illegal plays," Bonnie says with a grin. "Ye can't use proper nouns in Scrabble."
"They're seven cities," John says, "like the 'vision' Nathan had yesterday."
Ian grumbles, "And let me guess. We're going to have to find out what they mean?"
Giovanni, Ian's aged Spanish inquisitor ghost, sneers and says, "We have no need of pagan fortune-telling."
Robert sits up, slides his legs off the bed, and stands, only showing his wooziness for a moment. He takes the Scrabble board and folds it, ruining the tiles.
"Creepy dead guy knows what he's talking about for once," he says. "I'm through with playing games. We're not doing this. We all decided, this isn't our business, right?"
There's a ring of nods, Bonnie and Terry grinning a little, Ian looking relieved.
"Jenny," Robert continues, "if you'd like we can drop you off back with your boss on Terra, but we're . . . we're going to leave."
"Can I come?" Ian asks.
Robert actually has trouble faking enthusiasm for his. "Sure, why not?"
He realizes that Jenny hasn't been paying perfect attention. Her eyes are half closed, and she glances at him. "I really hope I remember how all those city names were spelled. And Robert, I'm not leaving."
Robert leans forward, surprised.
"I'm going with you," Jenny says. "Wherever you go. I won't even tell the Chief."
John scoffs. "I don't believe it."
Jenny smiles disarmingly. "I might still want to do something about what's going on, but if anything, you all have shown that the Bureau aren't the ones who are going to fix this. I can help you get away from the Chief safely, and if Terry doesn't object, I'd like to try to convince him to eventually come back and help. But it's not too urgent. Sound good Terry?"
Terry's ghost shakes his head in amusement. "Hell, I'm bringing you along even if they don't want you. I need somebody else who wants to find out what's going on."
Robert isn't sure how to feel. He won't deny that Jenny will be useful, but he expects she might be an impediment in the long run. And he does not believe her change of heart at all.
So he smiles, and says, "This is great. I'll tell you guys all about my harrowing," he chuckles, "Go-playing experience, and we can get some supplies for our little fugitive flight."
And so over the next hour, the group talks about what they would need and what Jenny can get them. Jenny leaves detailed information for Michael, prepares a package to be delivered to the Bureau offices on Terra so that they don't have to set foot there again, and then gets a laptop with thousands of files on magic, to keep them informed on their trip, wherever they decide to go. The current plan is to stay as far away as possible from the seven cities from the Scrabble game.
Michael tries to convince Jenny what she's doing is a bad idea, but he doesn't try to stop them. Robert is glad he was smart enough to know better.
Around noon, Terry plane shifts them to Terra, and while they walk with Jenny to deliver her package, Robert feels a buzz from his phone, telling him he has voicemail. He dials and listens to a message.
Nathan's voice says, "Robert old chap, if I'm right, you'll be getting this when you're not sure quite where to go, so I took the liberty of arranging an appointment you might be interested in. Swing by the Virgin Mobile store on Lynn Boulevard at 1pm on November 3rd. Have a safe trip. If you need to reach me, I'll be in New York, fighting vampires I think. Otherwise, I'll see you soon enough, I feel. Oh, and tell Ian he'll get the compensation he deserves."
"What was that?" Jenny asks, coming out of the post office.
"Nathan," Robert laughs. "He wants us to go to a Virgin Mobile store in . . . half an hour."
"Why not?" John says. "It wouldn't be the craziest thing we've done."
Bonnie taps her hip flask, which sounds hollow. With mild disappointment she says, "If Nathan said to do it, then I owe the English pig. He did tell me to keep ye safe, after all."
Ian sounds nervous. "I don't want to stay in this city any longer than I have to unless there's money involved."
With a smile, Robert says, "And Nathan said I should tell you you'll get the compensation you deserve."
Ian's eyes light up. "I suppose I can afford to take a look."
Robert turns to Jenny. "Do you know where Lynn Boulevard is?"
"Of course I do," she says.
She pulls out her phone. It's a Virgin product.
Less than half an hour later, the group is greeted by a frantic Virgin Mobile clerk who looks like Keenan Ivory Wayans. He claims they are expected, that everything is ready, and that he can get them coffee if they'd like, all while ushering them into a teleconference room. The feed is already live, and in the background of wherever it is are people in casual business attire.
Robert is wondering what the hell is going when the clock quietly chimes 1 o'clock, and a man steps into frame of the camera. He's middle-aged, with white hair that looks a little uncontrollable, and a confident gleam in his eyes. Robert shakes his head in frustration, because Scarpedin's little game is starting to irritate him. He knows the man looks like someone famous, but he can't place who.
"Hello there," says the man with an educated British accent. "You might not know me. My name is Richard Branson, president of Virgin Enterprises. I understand that you've recently gotten involved with . . . well, magic, and I wanted to offer you a business proposal."
The group exchange glances, and then Robert gestures for him to go on.
"I'd like you to be heroes, if that's not too much trouble. And I'm willing to pay you."
Robert chuckles. "Mr. . . . Branson, is it? Your offer is nice, really. But honestly, we're not the 'heroes' type."
"Oh, obviously," says the Rebel Billionaire with a sarcastic grin. "I know what happened in New Orleans, at least vaguely. That's how you came to my attention. I just thought it would be nice, you being so new to this and all, to have a . . . a documentary, of sorts. Consider it endorsing the arts, like the rich used to do in the Renaissance."
"Look, Rich," Robert says, "we've got this other whole gig lined up. You know, some thing about saving the world. I'm not too clear on the specifics. Like you said," he chuckles, "we're new at this."
"Save the world?" Branson smiles broadly. "That would make an excellent sales pitch, don't you think? This really would be a hands-off deal for you. I would endorse you, be a backer, and in exchange all I would like is rights to movies and such based on heroic exploits. Which, given your recent history, I imagine should be rather spectacular. You're ethnically diverse. I'm not sure quite how we would produce it, but I'm confident it will be a hit."
"This is surreal," John says quietly.
"Um, Mr. Branson?" interrupts Ian, voice gruff. "You mentioned payment? Just hypothetically, you know, how much would that be?"
Branson nods. "I was thinking about twenty thousand dollars a week. To a minimum of a million dollars total. I assume saving the world should take at least a year, of course."
While everyone else's mouths hang open, Robert replies.
"Of course."
End of thirteenth session.
Richard Rawen
First Post
RangerWickett said:
Great to have you back! I'm glad I kept checking in on you, your story makes it worth the effort !!!
