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Message: <blockquote data-quote="RangerWickett" data-source="post: 2832522" data-attributes="member: 63">Halloween10:15 pmThe wreck and waste that is New Orleans is all the more apparent behind the rampant street party of Halloween night. Robert looks out the taxi window at countless celebrations, at gaudy costumes and rowdy kids in dark clothes, at mold and rot and sundered trees lying at the sides of the road.He thinks of Adrien Lee, the murdering bastard who killed an innocent man. Robert can guess, but he tells himself he can’t understand why Mr. Lee would have murdered Terry.As he looks out the window, darkened streets sliding past slowly in the night, street lights catch his face and cast his reflection on the inside of the window. But Robert is too busy looking outward at the waste and wreckage. He cannot see himself.I am just a lonesome traveler, Through this big wide world of sin; Want to join that grand procession, When the saints go marchin’ in. Oh when the saints go marchin’ in, Oh when the saints go marchin’ in, Lord I want to be in that number When the saints go marchin’ in.– “When the Saints Go Marching In,” traditional spiritualRobert pays the taxi driver and watches him drive off, then turns to the tiny drive-through daiquiri stand outside the St. Louis Cemetery. John and Scarpedin sit at a table, both wearing heavy trenchcoats. Under the coat, Scarpedin is in a suit of plate armor, and John is an angel. Robert laughs for the first time in nearly an hour.“Where’s Nathan?” he asks.John exhales cigarette smoke as he answers. “His car was damaged. He didn’t want to draw attention, so he’s taking the night off to do some body work on it.”Robert frowns and sits down. “He’s going to find a garage open at this time of night, that’ll just let him repair his car?”John shrugs. “He’s psychic.”Scarpedin’s tone is dark. “What happened to Terry?”Robert says, “Mr. Lee – Belladonna’s father – shot him. He’s dead.”“Sh*t, you serious?” Scarpedin shakes his head. “How the hell’d that happen?”“Wait,” John says. “Somebody shot Terry in front of you, then let you leave?”“No,” Robert says, amused fright in his voice. “I knew they were going to do something bad, so I got out of there in a hurry. I just heard the gunshot as I was leaving. Look, if you’d been there, you’d know. Mr. Lee had a whole bunch of his cronies gathered around, plus his daughter, some African guy who – and I swear you’re getting to me, Scarpedin – but he looked like Nelson Mandlea. They were all hiding in some sort of fortified room right after you guys ran off and started having a gun fight.”“And car chase,” Scarpedin says. “Oh, and me and John? We can do magic now.”“Well ain’t that good for you.” Robert rolls his eyes. “Look, for the past three days, this whole thing with magic, and vampires, and people trying to kill Terry – and me by proxy – I’ve had it. I’m not really a,” he chuckles, “a religious person, but after all this, I’m not just going to step away. I need your help.”John stops mid-drag, blinking. “You’re going to kill Mr. Lee?”Robert flashes an indecipherable smile. He might be mocking John for being silly, or boasting. It’s impossible to tell.“I’m in,” Scarpedin says. “F*cker can’t get away with just cappin’ Terry like that. C’mon John.”“No,” John says. “I’m out. You don’t even know Terry’s dead. Don’t do anything crazy.”Scarpedin growls. “What did I say about crazy, John? Oh yeah, Robot: here.”Scarpedin pulls up a coat that is covering a large lumpy object propped up next to him. Beneath the coat is a mini-gun. Robert is about to freak out, but he realizes he doesn’t have the energy to fake it. Instead he ignores Scarpedin.“John,” Robert says, “just call Belladonna. She was with Terry. If she can let you talk to Terry, then fine. I’m crazy, Terry’s alive, and we only have to worry about terrorists trying to kill us, and weird man-witches who turn into ravens trying to kidnap us. But if she can’t. . . .”He stares into John’s eyes for a long moment. Robert can tell John believes him, but he appreciates that John still wants proof. John asks for Scarpedin’s phone and starts to dial.“Don’t tell her where we are,” Robert says casually.After a few rings, Belladonna answers. Robert can make out her voice over the speaker.“Scarpedin?”“No, it’s John. Look, is Terry there?”Belladonna hesitates, then says, “My father took him away. I didn’t know he was at the party, but my father went to get him and keep him safe.”“Can I talk to him?” John asks. “Look, it’s very important that I talk to Terry now.”“I’ll see what I can do,” Belladonna says, “but John, if you don’t remember, my uncle’s house was just attacked. We’re in a bit of a state here. I don’t even know if Terry’s anywhere around right now. He left with my dad.”“Then give me your father’s number.”“I’m sorry John, but I gonna have to go now.”“Belladonna, wait.” John draws in a breath. There’s silence on the other end of the line, like Belladonna is waiting. “Belladonna, Robert says your father killed Terry. Tell me that’s not-”Before he finishes the sentence, Belladonna hangs up.Robert simply stares at John, confidently waiting for him to make a decision.John angrily tosses the phone back to Scarpedin. “I’m still out. That proves nothing. You two go get yourselves arrested or killed. I’m going to go back to the Bureau, and tomorrow I’m going to Savannah to help them with their problem there.”Robert smiles. “You go do that. I’m sure you’ll accomplish a lot once you get over to Gaia. Oh. Wait. Terry’s dead. How’d I forget? That’s right, I didn’t forget, because I was thirty feet away when I heard him get shot.”“You don’t do that,” Scarpedin says. “Didn’t even let him roll initiative. That’s not right.”John and Robert both glance at Scarpedin in confusion, then look back at each other.John says, “You still don’t know he’s dead. I’m going back to the Bureau. When you two finally calm down, meet me there, and we can let them look into this.”John puts out his cigarette on the table, then tosses the butt away as he leaves.“Just you and me?” Robert asks Scarpedin.Scarpedin grins viciously, patting the bundle next to him. “And Mister One-Thousand-Rounds-a-Minute vulcan cannon here.”Robert nods, taking a deep breath. “Okay. Give me a minute to make a plan. Alright. First, we need transportation. We can’t be taking taxis all around the city with a mini-gun.”“It’s Halloween,” Scarpedin says.Robert grimaces, half nodding. “Still, I don’t want to attract too much attention. And it doesn’t fit your costume.”Scarpedin shrugs. “Nathan’s out. I think he was pretty pissed that we got his car all shot up.”“You’re going to have to tell me about that some time,” Robert says. “Anyway, he’s too straight-laced to go along with this.”Robert sits pondering for a moment.“Dammit,” Scarpedin says. “Whitey should be here by now. He was bringing my motorcycle.”“I think I saw him getting arrested at the mansion,” Robert says. “He must’ve driven up just after you guys left. They probably impounded your bike.”“God dammit. Okay, so first thing, we get my bike.”Robert shakes his head. “No. John had a good point. I mean, I’m pretty damned sure they shot Terry, but just because I don’t expect to live through the night doesn’t mean we should get sloppy. We need to find out for sure, both if they killed him, and who killed him, so we know who we need to kill. Which means we have to go back to that mansion.”“Screw that,” Scarpedin says. “C’mon Robot, it’s Halloween.”Robert frowns, not understanding.“Let’s get a cab,” Scarpedin says. “We’re going to the French Quarter.”“You gonna tell me why?” Robert asks.Scarpedin grins. “We’re gonna to find us a voodoo shaman. We’re gonna talk to Terry.”</blockquote>

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