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<blockquote data-quote="RangerWickett" data-source="post: 2868572" data-attributes="member: 63"><p><strong>Session Eleven, part four</strong></p><p></p><p>They’ve been at the club for five minutes, and Jenny’s not sure who’s playing who. Between being charming and inquisitive about each other’s lives, Jenny and Robert intermittently receive phone calls from the group they’ve sent to the cemetery, keeping them aprised. In their conversations, Jenny notices that Robert doesn’t talk about himself much, but he’s very interested in her. Or at least so he appears. She wonders if he realizes she’s trying to figure him out as much as he is her.</p><p></p><p>“They just reached the cemetery gates,” Jenny says, putting away her phone. “There’s an empty cop car there, and an Oldsmobile which looks abandoned. Nathan did a reading, but didn’t find-”</p><p></p><p>She is interrupted by vulgar shouts from the direction of the arcade.</p><p></p><p>“Yeah, f*cker! Take that. Feel the wrath of Kong, b*tch! I crush Gojira and stomp on your ass!”</p><p></p><p>Robert and Jenny look over to see Scarpedin and Wiji-wiji engaged in a fierce game of <em>Rampage</em>. Despite herself, Jenny can’t look away. She hasn’t played the game in a decade at least, but she recognizes that something special is going on. This is the most amazing game of Rampage she has ever seen, and over the course of two minutes she witnesses an epic duel between the giant ape and the giant lizard. Finally, Scarpedin triumphs.</p><p></p><p>“High score, b*tch!” the man shouts. He kicks the game and spins, hands in the air as he woots victoriously.</p><p></p><p>“So Jenny,” Robert says nonchalantly, “where’d you go to school?”</p><p></p><p>Jenny is still focused on the video game. “You do realize it should be nearly impossible to win a game against a fey who is specifically attuned to games, right?”</p><p></p><p>“I beat him in jacks and golf,” Robert says.</p><p></p><p>“Hm,” Jenny says. “That’s suspicious.”</p><p></p><p>Jenny’s phone rings. It’s a call from another Bureau branch out west. She smiles with mild embarrassment, then excuses herself to answer it. This leaves Robert alone for a few moments with a drink he hasn’t touched.</p><p></p><p>Wiji-wiji sidles over and slumps into the chair where Jenny was.</p><p></p><p>“You wanna pray a gamu?”</p><p></p><p>“Oh,” Robert says. “You’re speaking English now?”</p><p></p><p>“<em>Hai</em>, for you, Roboto-<em>san</em>. I have an importanto requesto.”</p><p></p><p>Robert glances in the direction of Jenny. She’s out of sight, beyond the thick of the club’s crowd. Scarpedin’s away trying to woo some chick with talk of his Rampage exploits. Robert runs his tongue across his teeth, considers, then leans in.</p><p></p><p>“What do I have to do?”</p><p></p><p>“Oh, no,” Wiji-wiji says. “Not requiredo. A requesto. Werry importanto, <em>demo</em> also <em>himitsu desu.</em> Secretto, <em>hai</em>?”</p><p></p><p>“Okay,” Robert says. “Just between the two of us. What are you up to?”</p><p></p><p>Wiji-wiji adjusts his suit and tie as he answers. “In ozha world, on Gaia, Bureau has . . . <em>anno</em>, how you say, prisona. My Engrish no too good.”</p><p></p><p>“Of course not,” Robert says. “Half the time you sound like you’re speaking Spanish. I can hardly understand you. Now tell me what’s the problem with this prisoner.”</p><p></p><p>“His namu is O-Ragumaro. Ancient Japanese sorcerer. Bonded with <em>oni</em>, demon <em>desu</em>. I must speaku with him. And you, <em>tomodachi</em>, must come too. You must pray Go.”</p><p></p><p>Robert is unfazed. “You want me to play a game of Go with a Japanese sorcerer bonded to a demon, in a Bureau prison on Gaia. Um . . . why?”</p><p></p><p>“<em>Sore wa himitsu desu</em>. If you knew, Roboto-<em>san</em>, it would ruin everyzhing. <em>Totemo sumimasen</em>.”</p><p></p><p>“You can’t tell me? Are you going to let this guy go? I don’t know if that’ll go over so well. In fact, I’m not so eager to stay involved with all this crazy, you know, magic stuff. I’m going over to Gaia to make sure these Bureau folks can handle this, and then I’m handing them Terry and leaving, okay?”</p><p></p><p>Robert pauses.</p><p></p><p>“Unless,” he says, “you want to tell me <em>why</em> you want this favor. I’m sorry, but Wiji-wiji, I’m getting tired of all these secrets.”</p><p></p><p>“<em>Hai, wakarimasu, demo</em> it must remain secret. If I could exprain, I would, <em>demo dekimasen.</em> I cannot terru you.”</p><p></p><p>“Then I’ve got no reason to help you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a girl coming back soon.” Robert smiles proudly, then falters. “I hope.”</p><p></p><p>Wiji-wiji frowns, then he snaps a hand at a waitress. The woman comes over, and Wiji-wiji orders three glasses of Kirin beer, and three shots of sake. As the woman heads off to get the order, Wiji-wiji smiles.</p><p></p><p>“We pray gamu.”</p><p></p><p>Robert listens.</p><p></p><p>“I wirru have three grassu of <em>biru</em>. <em>Anata wa</em> three shot grassu of <em>sake ga arimasu.</em> Drinking game, <em>hai?</em>”</p><p></p><p>“We’re gonna have a drinking game?” Robert chuckles. “If I win, you tell me what this secret is, and if you win. . . ?”</p><p></p><p>“You take me to see O-Ragumaro.”</p><p></p><p>“Okay,” Robert says. “What are the rules? I’ve still got to decide.”</p><p></p><p>Wiji-wiji explains the rules. Robert will have three shots, Wiji-wiji will have three full glasses of beer. Wiji-wiji gets a head start, and Robert cannot touch any of his shots until Wiji-wiji has finished his first beer. Also, to make sure neither of them try to disrupt the game, neither Wiji-wiji nor Robert can touch each other’s glasses. Finally, each of them is only allowed to use one hand at a time, so they can’t try to chug two drinks at once.</p><p></p><p>Robert considers this for a bit, looking for some sort of trick or loophole. He figures that unless Wiji-wiji has some sort of magic trick to let him chug 48 ounces of beer before Robert can down 4.5 ounces of sake, it should be an easy win. Just to be safe, he makes Wiji-wiji promise not to use magic. Wiji-wiji laughs, saying Robert is very silly and that magic doesn’t exist. But he agrees not to use magic.</p><p></p><p>The waitress brings over the drinks. She sets them in the middle of the table, three tall glasses for Wiji-wiji, three small shot glasses for Robert.</p><p></p><p>“Rememba,” Wiji-wiji says, “you no touchu your grasses untiru I finish my first <em>biru</em>, and we cannot touch each ozha’s grasses, <em>hai</em>? Whoever finishes their drinks first, wins.”</p><p></p><p>Robert nods. “Sure.”</p><p></p><p>Wiji-wiji grins, takes his first beer, and begins to chug it. Robert has a flash of that Japanese hotdog eating champion, but he’s still confident he can outdrink the kami of games. As Wiji-wiji finishes his first glass of beer, Robert reaches out to take his first shot glass.</p><p></p><p>Robert raises the shot glass to drink it.</p><p></p><p>Wiji-wiji, though, isn’t moving to his second beer. Instead, the Japanese kami has turned his empty glass upside down. He moves it over one of Robert’s shot glasses, then lowers it, trapping the shot glass inside the beer glass.</p><p></p><p>With his shot on his lips, Robert realizes that, by the rules, he can’t move Wiji-wiji’s glass, and so he won’t be able to get to his third shot glass. There’s no way for him to win.</p><p></p><p>Wiji-wiji smiles, lifts his second glass of beer, says, “<em>Kanpai</em>,” then begins to drink.</p><p></p><p>Robert’s mind reels. He needs a way to keep from losing, and there’s only one available to him. He grabs the table and flips it, knocking Wiji-wiji and Robert’s other drinks to the floor.</p><p></p><p>“Crap,” Robert says. “I guess the game’s a draw.”</p><p></p><p>Wiji-wiji looks down, his mouth agape in a mixture of awe and surprise. He looks up to Robert and slowly a huge smile spreads onto his face.</p><p></p><p>“You are a werry good praya, Roboto-san.” He wags a finger in mock admonishment.</p><p></p><p>The waitress starts complaining at them for messing with the table and spilling the drinks, but all Robert can do is lean back in his chair and sigh in relief. That’s one bullet dodged.</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">* * *</p><p></p><p>Nathan has sensed a name, and Agent Cavers is familiar enough with Bonaventure Cemetery to know where they’ll find that grave.</p><p></p><p>The five of them slide quietly through the midnight darkness of the graveyard, visibility cut by thick shading oaks and their dangling Spanish moss. This is an old place, from before the Civil War that burned the rest of Georgia but spared Savannah. Old ghosts linger here, faintly whispering to Nathan, but he is concerned with the living. He shivers at the sounds of howls, perhaps just distant ships on the Savannah River, perhaps a pack of ghost hounds said to drive out interlopers and thieves.</p><p></p><p>“Must be here for me,” Ian mutters.</p><p></p><p>Something moves nearby behind a tombstone. As one, four flashlights swing to the spot of the noise. John raises his silenced pistol, Nathan trains his gun’s laser sight, Agent Cavers quickdraws a .45, and Ian pumps his double-barrel shotgun. Then, half a second later, Bonnie spins and holds up her fists.</p><p></p><p>“Who’s there!” she calls out.</p><p></p><p>A young black woman staggers out from behind a grave marker, looking frightened. She panics when she sees all the guns trained on her, but Ian chants a brief incantation as she turns to run, and when he finishes his spell she has calmed down and stopped moving.</p><p></p><p>“This the girl you saw?” Ian says.</p><p></p><p>Nathan nods. He starts toward the woman, hoping to talk to her, but from nearby John yells for them all to take cover. Everyone ducks behind trees or gravestones, except the woman. Nathan starts to move to her, but Ian simply shouts.</p><p></p><p>“Duck, woman!”</p><p></p><p>The woman obeys instantly, falling to the ground and hiding.</p><p></p><p>Nathan looks over to where John is, beside a huge stone obelisk.</p><p></p><p>He calls out, “What’s the problem, John? I don’t sense any danger.”</p><p></p><p>“There’s a sniper somewhere,” John says.</p><p></p><p>Ian scoffs. “Shooting through these trees? Yeah right.”</p><p></p><p>Nathan, confident there’s no danger, stands and walks over to where John is. When he sees the body, he scowls, wondering what he did wrong.</p><p></p><p>A dead police officer lies beside the obelisk in a patch of dried blood. A massive exit wound is visible in his chest. Either someone hit him point-blank with a giant pistol, or it’s a 50-caliber sniper rifle.</p><p></p><p>“Is it safe?” Bonnie says from a bush.</p><p></p><p>Nathan nods and pulls out his cell phone.</p><p></p><p>“Who are you calling?” Agent Cavers asks.</p><p></p><p>“Robert,” Nathan says. “You probably should call someone from your team.”</p><p></p><p>John asks, “How’s Robert going to help?”</p><p></p><p>“Oh,” Nathan says, “I think he might have something to contribute to the investigation of a crime scene.”</p><p></p><p>Ian comes over, shotgun slung over his shoulder. “I don’t get it. You said someone was gonna kill the chick. Why’s there a dead cop?”</p><p></p><p>“I don’t know,” Nathan says.</p><p></p><p>He doesn’t say so, but not knowing worries him.</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">* * *</p><p></p><p>In a fourth floor room on a building just outside Bonaventure Cemetery, a man named Dick Thevenot – who looks like <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0614151/" target="_blank">Charlie Murphy</a> in an expensive suit – leans over beside his hired sniper, looking out the window at the cemetery.</p><p></p><p>“So?” he says.</p><p></p><p>“They’re not there,” the sniper says. “I count five, but they’re missing a few from New Orleans, and none of them have the bracelet. I can take out probably two before they scatter.”</p><p></p><p>“Nah,” Thevenot says. “We’ve got other plans. C’mon. They’ll trace the bullet back to this building pretty soon. Time for us to be getting.”</p><p></p><p>“What about the girl?” the sniper asks. “She can identify you.”</p><p></p><p>Thevenot considers the course of action he has to take, and he smiles darkly.</p><p></p><p>“I’m counting on it.”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="RangerWickett, post: 2868572, member: 63"] [b]Session Eleven, part four[/b] They’ve been at the club for five minutes, and Jenny’s not sure who’s playing who. Between being charming and inquisitive about each other’s lives, Jenny and Robert intermittently receive phone calls from the group they’ve sent to the cemetery, keeping them aprised. In their conversations, Jenny notices that Robert doesn’t talk about himself much, but he’s very interested in her. Or at least so he appears. She wonders if he realizes she’s trying to figure him out as much as he is her. “They just reached the cemetery gates,” Jenny says, putting away her phone. “There’s an empty cop car there, and an Oldsmobile which looks abandoned. Nathan did a reading, but didn’t find-” She is interrupted by vulgar shouts from the direction of the arcade. “Yeah, f*cker! Take that. Feel the wrath of Kong, b*tch! I crush Gojira and stomp on your ass!” Robert and Jenny look over to see Scarpedin and Wiji-wiji engaged in a fierce game of [i]Rampage[/i]. Despite herself, Jenny can’t look away. She hasn’t played the game in a decade at least, but she recognizes that something special is going on. This is the most amazing game of Rampage she has ever seen, and over the course of two minutes she witnesses an epic duel between the giant ape and the giant lizard. Finally, Scarpedin triumphs. “High score, b*tch!” the man shouts. He kicks the game and spins, hands in the air as he woots victoriously. “So Jenny,” Robert says nonchalantly, “where’d you go to school?” Jenny is still focused on the video game. “You do realize it should be nearly impossible to win a game against a fey who is specifically attuned to games, right?” “I beat him in jacks and golf,” Robert says. “Hm,” Jenny says. “That’s suspicious.” Jenny’s phone rings. It’s a call from another Bureau branch out west. She smiles with mild embarrassment, then excuses herself to answer it. This leaves Robert alone for a few moments with a drink he hasn’t touched. Wiji-wiji sidles over and slumps into the chair where Jenny was. “You wanna pray a gamu?” “Oh,” Robert says. “You’re speaking English now?” “[i]Hai[/i], for you, Roboto-[i]san[/i]. I have an importanto requesto.” Robert glances in the direction of Jenny. She’s out of sight, beyond the thick of the club’s crowd. Scarpedin’s away trying to woo some chick with talk of his Rampage exploits. Robert runs his tongue across his teeth, considers, then leans in. “What do I have to do?” “Oh, no,” Wiji-wiji says. “Not requiredo. A requesto. Werry importanto, [i]demo[/i] also [i]himitsu desu.[/i] Secretto, [i]hai[/i]?” “Okay,” Robert says. “Just between the two of us. What are you up to?” Wiji-wiji adjusts his suit and tie as he answers. “In ozha world, on Gaia, Bureau has . . . [i]anno[/i], how you say, prisona. My Engrish no too good.” “Of course not,” Robert says. “Half the time you sound like you’re speaking Spanish. I can hardly understand you. Now tell me what’s the problem with this prisoner.” “His namu is O-Ragumaro. Ancient Japanese sorcerer. Bonded with [i]oni[/i], demon [i]desu[/i]. I must speaku with him. And you, [i]tomodachi[/i], must come too. You must pray Go.” Robert is unfazed. “You want me to play a game of Go with a Japanese sorcerer bonded to a demon, in a Bureau prison on Gaia. Um . . . why?” “[i]Sore wa himitsu desu[/i]. If you knew, Roboto-[i]san[/i], it would ruin everyzhing. [i]Totemo sumimasen[/i].” “You can’t tell me? Are you going to let this guy go? I don’t know if that’ll go over so well. In fact, I’m not so eager to stay involved with all this crazy, you know, magic stuff. I’m going over to Gaia to make sure these Bureau folks can handle this, and then I’m handing them Terry and leaving, okay?” Robert pauses. “Unless,” he says, “you want to tell me [i]why[/i] you want this favor. I’m sorry, but Wiji-wiji, I’m getting tired of all these secrets.” “[i]Hai, wakarimasu, demo[/i] it must remain secret. If I could exprain, I would, [i]demo dekimasen.[/i] I cannot terru you.” “Then I’ve got no reason to help you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a girl coming back soon.” Robert smiles proudly, then falters. “I hope.” Wiji-wiji frowns, then he snaps a hand at a waitress. The woman comes over, and Wiji-wiji orders three glasses of Kirin beer, and three shots of sake. As the woman heads off to get the order, Wiji-wiji smiles. “We pray gamu.” Robert listens. “I wirru have three grassu of [i]biru[/i]. [i]Anata wa[/i] three shot grassu of [i]sake ga arimasu.[/i] Drinking game, [i]hai?[/i]” “We’re gonna have a drinking game?” Robert chuckles. “If I win, you tell me what this secret is, and if you win. . . ?” “You take me to see O-Ragumaro.” “Okay,” Robert says. “What are the rules? I’ve still got to decide.” Wiji-wiji explains the rules. Robert will have three shots, Wiji-wiji will have three full glasses of beer. Wiji-wiji gets a head start, and Robert cannot touch any of his shots until Wiji-wiji has finished his first beer. Also, to make sure neither of them try to disrupt the game, neither Wiji-wiji nor Robert can touch each other’s glasses. Finally, each of them is only allowed to use one hand at a time, so they can’t try to chug two drinks at once. Robert considers this for a bit, looking for some sort of trick or loophole. He figures that unless Wiji-wiji has some sort of magic trick to let him chug 48 ounces of beer before Robert can down 4.5 ounces of sake, it should be an easy win. Just to be safe, he makes Wiji-wiji promise not to use magic. Wiji-wiji laughs, saying Robert is very silly and that magic doesn’t exist. But he agrees not to use magic. The waitress brings over the drinks. She sets them in the middle of the table, three tall glasses for Wiji-wiji, three small shot glasses for Robert. “Rememba,” Wiji-wiji says, “you no touchu your grasses untiru I finish my first [i]biru[/i], and we cannot touch each ozha’s grasses, [i]hai[/i]? Whoever finishes their drinks first, wins.” Robert nods. “Sure.” Wiji-wiji grins, takes his first beer, and begins to chug it. Robert has a flash of that Japanese hotdog eating champion, but he’s still confident he can outdrink the kami of games. As Wiji-wiji finishes his first glass of beer, Robert reaches out to take his first shot glass. Robert raises the shot glass to drink it. Wiji-wiji, though, isn’t moving to his second beer. Instead, the Japanese kami has turned his empty glass upside down. He moves it over one of Robert’s shot glasses, then lowers it, trapping the shot glass inside the beer glass. With his shot on his lips, Robert realizes that, by the rules, he can’t move Wiji-wiji’s glass, and so he won’t be able to get to his third shot glass. There’s no way for him to win. Wiji-wiji smiles, lifts his second glass of beer, says, “[i]Kanpai[/i],” then begins to drink. Robert’s mind reels. He needs a way to keep from losing, and there’s only one available to him. He grabs the table and flips it, knocking Wiji-wiji and Robert’s other drinks to the floor. “Crap,” Robert says. “I guess the game’s a draw.” Wiji-wiji looks down, his mouth agape in a mixture of awe and surprise. He looks up to Robert and slowly a huge smile spreads onto his face. “You are a werry good praya, Roboto-san.” He wags a finger in mock admonishment. The waitress starts complaining at them for messing with the table and spilling the drinks, but all Robert can do is lean back in his chair and sigh in relief. That’s one bullet dodged. [center]* * *[/center] Nathan has sensed a name, and Agent Cavers is familiar enough with Bonaventure Cemetery to know where they’ll find that grave. The five of them slide quietly through the midnight darkness of the graveyard, visibility cut by thick shading oaks and their dangling Spanish moss. This is an old place, from before the Civil War that burned the rest of Georgia but spared Savannah. Old ghosts linger here, faintly whispering to Nathan, but he is concerned with the living. He shivers at the sounds of howls, perhaps just distant ships on the Savannah River, perhaps a pack of ghost hounds said to drive out interlopers and thieves. “Must be here for me,” Ian mutters. Something moves nearby behind a tombstone. As one, four flashlights swing to the spot of the noise. John raises his silenced pistol, Nathan trains his gun’s laser sight, Agent Cavers quickdraws a .45, and Ian pumps his double-barrel shotgun. Then, half a second later, Bonnie spins and holds up her fists. “Who’s there!” she calls out. A young black woman staggers out from behind a grave marker, looking frightened. She panics when she sees all the guns trained on her, but Ian chants a brief incantation as she turns to run, and when he finishes his spell she has calmed down and stopped moving. “This the girl you saw?” Ian says. Nathan nods. He starts toward the woman, hoping to talk to her, but from nearby John yells for them all to take cover. Everyone ducks behind trees or gravestones, except the woman. Nathan starts to move to her, but Ian simply shouts. “Duck, woman!” The woman obeys instantly, falling to the ground and hiding. Nathan looks over to where John is, beside a huge stone obelisk. He calls out, “What’s the problem, John? I don’t sense any danger.” “There’s a sniper somewhere,” John says. Ian scoffs. “Shooting through these trees? Yeah right.” Nathan, confident there’s no danger, stands and walks over to where John is. When he sees the body, he scowls, wondering what he did wrong. A dead police officer lies beside the obelisk in a patch of dried blood. A massive exit wound is visible in his chest. Either someone hit him point-blank with a giant pistol, or it’s a 50-caliber sniper rifle. “Is it safe?” Bonnie says from a bush. Nathan nods and pulls out his cell phone. “Who are you calling?” Agent Cavers asks. “Robert,” Nathan says. “You probably should call someone from your team.” John asks, “How’s Robert going to help?” “Oh,” Nathan says, “I think he might have something to contribute to the investigation of a crime scene.” Ian comes over, shotgun slung over his shoulder. “I don’t get it. You said someone was gonna kill the chick. Why’s there a dead cop?” “I don’t know,” Nathan says. He doesn’t say so, but not knowing worries him. [center]* * *[/center] In a fourth floor room on a building just outside Bonaventure Cemetery, a man named Dick Thevenot – who looks like [url=http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0614151/]Charlie Murphy[/url] in an expensive suit – leans over beside his hired sniper, looking out the window at the cemetery. “So?” he says. “They’re not there,” the sniper says. “I count five, but they’re missing a few from New Orleans, and none of them have the bracelet. I can take out probably two before they scatter.” “Nah,” Thevenot says. “We’ve got other plans. C’mon. They’ll trace the bullet back to this building pretty soon. Time for us to be getting.” “What about the girl?” the sniper asks. “She can identify you.” Thevenot considers the course of action he has to take, and he smiles darkly. “I’m counting on it.” [/QUOTE]
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