Medallions d20 Modern (Update Wednesday 09-20-06)
- Thread starter Old Drew Id
- Start date
Old Drew Id
First Post
Session 5 (6/4/2003) Putting It Together
Session 5 (6/4/2003) Putting It Together
The sky was overcast, the wind was blowing hard, and it was dark for eight o’clock. The moon was hidden beneath the thick cloud cover, and the air smelled like rain. Brother Cooper thumbed the switch for his truck’s headlights as he pulled over to the curb.
The cab of the truck sagged noticeably before bouncing back as Joe climbed in and slammed the door. He gave a quick glance over the newly repaired windshield as he fastened his seat belt, and then noticed the box of plastic containers in the floorboard.
“Hey preacher, what’s in the Tupperware?”
Guyzell hesitated before answering. “Holy water.”
“No shi---, um, I mean, really? What’s it for?”
“I just figured we might need it tonight, Joseph. As a weapon.”
“Sweet! Where’d you get it?”
Brother Cooper eyed Joe before pulling out into traffic. “Joseph, you do realize that I am a man of God?”
“Right. So…what? Do you get it wholesale or something?”
“Joseph, sometimes …say, weren’t you supposed to be working tonight?”
“Oh! Right! Thanks for reminding me.”
Joe dug around in his backpack for a moment and pulled out a cell phone. He punched in a number and waited for an answer. “Hey, can I speak to, um… the old janitor guy?…I’m the new janitor…yep…hey, this is, um…me…I’m not coming in tonight…Um, no…I mean, yes, yes, I’m sick…SARS I think….well, to be honest, no, I don’t really want to keep this jo---okay, then…ba-bye. ”
Joe tucked the phone back into his backpack. “Well, that takes care of that. I just got fired.”
Brother Cooper sighed, and turned onto Highway 31 towards the library.
“Oh, hey, preacher?”
“Yes, Joseph?”
“Did you have any freaky old people hanging out around your place last night? You know, playing Trading Spaces with your furniture or anything?”
“No…why?”
“No reason.”
. . .
“You know this is crazy, right? Sane people do not do this.” Crystal checked her pistol again and re-holstered it for the twelfth time in a row. After that, she stowed a knife in the back of her belt, and a small canister of pepper spray in her pocket.
“Good. For a minute there I thought I was Rambo. Thanks for clearing that up.” Taylor had already checked her own gun fifteen times and had finally forced herself to quit fiddling with it. Now she just stood with her arms folded, staring out the open door of the library into the parking lot, watching it get dark.
“Well, you could be that chick in Rambo. I think there was a Vietnamese chick in that movie that shot some people…” Willie called out from just outside. He was looking more or less relaxed, leaning against the door frame, smoking a little stub of a cigar. Taylor had picked him up a half-hour earlier at his apartment. His breath had smelled faintly of liquor. She hadn’t blamed him.
“So, how does Brother Cooper know that it will be tonight?” Crystal asked, now sitting up on one of the tables and performing a series of stretches.
“He didn’t say, ” Willie answered. “Just that he was sure it would be. He said he’d explain when he got over here.”
Headlights flashed into the parking lot as a pick-up truck turned in. Taylor felt her stomach tense up. “Well…here we go.”
The truck pulled up, and Joe and Brother Cooper got out. Joe was wearing a new black leather trench coat, a “Black Lightning” Tee-shirt, and black jeans. Taylor looked around and realized everyone was dressed similarly. Willie was in an army green flak jacket and black pants, Crystal was in a black leather jacket and black jeans. Even Brother Cooper was wearing black trousers and a dark blue windbreaker into which he was stuffing what looked like several small Tupperware containers.
Of course, Taylor was wearing a white T-shirt, blue jeans, and a yellow windbreaker. She was gonna stand out like a sore thumb if things went bad.
Brother Cooper led the way back into the library, and began to fill in the blanks.
“Earlier today I spoke to John Frankenhowser. As you may recall, he is a fellow preacher, and he is my mentor. I have known him for a very long time, and he is fairly knowledgeable about dealings with the occult.”
Brother Cooper eyed the gun that Crystal was once again checking, and seemed to sigh slightly. He then continued, “I gave him all of the information that we were aware of, dealing with the locations of these attacks, and the symbols that we saw, and just everything I could think of. He did some research for me, and told me what I’m about to tell you.”
The preacher seemed at last to warm to his subject and began to recite the facts more quickly.
“There is a ritual, a spell, that is designed to protect someone. A very large, very powerful spell, called the ‘five locked walls’ or by different variations of that name. The way it works is, you need five locations. They need to be buildings, they need to be spread out over a reasonable distance, and they all need to have been built or owned somehow, at least partially, by the target of the spell. ”
“If you have all that, and you cast the spell, which apparently, again, is very complicated, then you can protect the target of the spell from…well…from just about anything.”
Willie started nodding along as facts clicked into place. Crystal chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip.
“Based on what we have heard from Mr. Bolling, and the events of this past week and a half, I think we can pretty safely assume that at some point, perhaps many years ago, this spell was cast to protect Mr. Dick Scorse, of South-Medical.”
Willie chimed in, putting the facts together. “The coin-collector guys. Bolling said Scorse was their front man. They needed to protect him. At least until the, whatever you want to call it…when we took over.”
“I didn’t agree to take over anything,” Crystal proclaimed.
“Well, baby, I never saw that we had much choice,” Willie offered in consolation.
Crystal continued, “So, these coin collector guys, the…uh…Class of 1923---”
Joe smiled. “I just call them ‘the Guys with the Empty Offices’.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing, don’t worry about it. Keep going.”
Crystal continued. “So these guys, when they realized we were about to…take over, they pulled their support from Scorse and left him out to dry? And that’s what’s causing all of this?”
Brother Cooper shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know about how all of that fits together, really.”
Joe jumped in, “Well whatever they were doing, the next thing that happened was that South-Medical had some layoffs, including that Rosalita lady.”
Taylor at last had something to offer. “Isabel Garcia. She got laid off, and must have been pretty ticked off at Scorse.”
Brother Cooper continued. “Right. And somehow, she knew about the ‘five locked walls.’ Shoot, maybe among these sorts of people, this kind of thing is common knowledge. Anyhow, she set to work breaking down the spell. According to Frankenhowser, she has been going about it the right way. Those runes we have been seeing? They translate to mean ‘unlock’, or something along those lines. She has been hitting each spot on Wednesdays and Sundays, defacing the grounds and placing the rune. Which is exactly, by the book, what needs to be done in order to break the spell. ”
“Tonight’s Wednesday!” Taylor exclaimed. Everyone looked over at her with stupid looks on their faces. Her face turned bright red. “Okay, guessing everyone already knew that.”
“So I count four locations so far. Church, library, medical building, and science center---”
“The digital hospital that South-Medical is building on 280,” Willie answered, before the question was even complete. “I saw the maps on the wall in her apartment.”
Joe stood up. “Cool. So we bust in on her tonight at the construction site. Toss a couple of fireball spells, and save the day.”
The group silently stared at Joe for a moment. Willie was the first to ask, “Can you actually do that now?”
Joe smirked, “Sure…piece of cake…all except for the fireball part. Actually, I am working on a new healing spell--”
Brother Cooper cleared his throat. “I just want to make sure everyone here knows this: you don’t have to go tonight if you don’t want to. I believe that the Lord has called me to do this, but I don’t hold any of you to that.”
“Oh please, preacher, like we could back out now,” Crystal rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, preacher, I’m in this for the long haul, or at least until I get some payback for my leg,” Willie grinned evilly.
“Hell, I just don’t have anything better to do,” Joe admitted.
Taylor spoke up, “I’m definitely in. I’m not backing out…but…could we make a quick stop before we get there?”
Session 5 (6/4/2003) Putting It Together
The sky was overcast, the wind was blowing hard, and it was dark for eight o’clock. The moon was hidden beneath the thick cloud cover, and the air smelled like rain. Brother Cooper thumbed the switch for his truck’s headlights as he pulled over to the curb.
The cab of the truck sagged noticeably before bouncing back as Joe climbed in and slammed the door. He gave a quick glance over the newly repaired windshield as he fastened his seat belt, and then noticed the box of plastic containers in the floorboard.
“Hey preacher, what’s in the Tupperware?”
Guyzell hesitated before answering. “Holy water.”
“No shi---, um, I mean, really? What’s it for?”
“I just figured we might need it tonight, Joseph. As a weapon.”
“Sweet! Where’d you get it?”
Brother Cooper eyed Joe before pulling out into traffic. “Joseph, you do realize that I am a man of God?”
“Right. So…what? Do you get it wholesale or something?”
“Joseph, sometimes …say, weren’t you supposed to be working tonight?”
“Oh! Right! Thanks for reminding me.”
Joe dug around in his backpack for a moment and pulled out a cell phone. He punched in a number and waited for an answer. “Hey, can I speak to, um… the old janitor guy?…I’m the new janitor…yep…hey, this is, um…me…I’m not coming in tonight…Um, no…I mean, yes, yes, I’m sick…SARS I think….well, to be honest, no, I don’t really want to keep this jo---okay, then…ba-bye. ”
Joe tucked the phone back into his backpack. “Well, that takes care of that. I just got fired.”
Brother Cooper sighed, and turned onto Highway 31 towards the library.
“Oh, hey, preacher?”
“Yes, Joseph?”
“Did you have any freaky old people hanging out around your place last night? You know, playing Trading Spaces with your furniture or anything?”
“No…why?”
“No reason.”
. . .
“You know this is crazy, right? Sane people do not do this.” Crystal checked her pistol again and re-holstered it for the twelfth time in a row. After that, she stowed a knife in the back of her belt, and a small canister of pepper spray in her pocket.
“Good. For a minute there I thought I was Rambo. Thanks for clearing that up.” Taylor had already checked her own gun fifteen times and had finally forced herself to quit fiddling with it. Now she just stood with her arms folded, staring out the open door of the library into the parking lot, watching it get dark.
“Well, you could be that chick in Rambo. I think there was a Vietnamese chick in that movie that shot some people…” Willie called out from just outside. He was looking more or less relaxed, leaning against the door frame, smoking a little stub of a cigar. Taylor had picked him up a half-hour earlier at his apartment. His breath had smelled faintly of liquor. She hadn’t blamed him.
“So, how does Brother Cooper know that it will be tonight?” Crystal asked, now sitting up on one of the tables and performing a series of stretches.
“He didn’t say, ” Willie answered. “Just that he was sure it would be. He said he’d explain when he got over here.”
Headlights flashed into the parking lot as a pick-up truck turned in. Taylor felt her stomach tense up. “Well…here we go.”
The truck pulled up, and Joe and Brother Cooper got out. Joe was wearing a new black leather trench coat, a “Black Lightning” Tee-shirt, and black jeans. Taylor looked around and realized everyone was dressed similarly. Willie was in an army green flak jacket and black pants, Crystal was in a black leather jacket and black jeans. Even Brother Cooper was wearing black trousers and a dark blue windbreaker into which he was stuffing what looked like several small Tupperware containers.
Of course, Taylor was wearing a white T-shirt, blue jeans, and a yellow windbreaker. She was gonna stand out like a sore thumb if things went bad.
Brother Cooper led the way back into the library, and began to fill in the blanks.
“Earlier today I spoke to John Frankenhowser. As you may recall, he is a fellow preacher, and he is my mentor. I have known him for a very long time, and he is fairly knowledgeable about dealings with the occult.”
Brother Cooper eyed the gun that Crystal was once again checking, and seemed to sigh slightly. He then continued, “I gave him all of the information that we were aware of, dealing with the locations of these attacks, and the symbols that we saw, and just everything I could think of. He did some research for me, and told me what I’m about to tell you.”
The preacher seemed at last to warm to his subject and began to recite the facts more quickly.
“There is a ritual, a spell, that is designed to protect someone. A very large, very powerful spell, called the ‘five locked walls’ or by different variations of that name. The way it works is, you need five locations. They need to be buildings, they need to be spread out over a reasonable distance, and they all need to have been built or owned somehow, at least partially, by the target of the spell. ”
“If you have all that, and you cast the spell, which apparently, again, is very complicated, then you can protect the target of the spell from…well…from just about anything.”
Willie started nodding along as facts clicked into place. Crystal chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip.
“Based on what we have heard from Mr. Bolling, and the events of this past week and a half, I think we can pretty safely assume that at some point, perhaps many years ago, this spell was cast to protect Mr. Dick Scorse, of South-Medical.”
Willie chimed in, putting the facts together. “The coin-collector guys. Bolling said Scorse was their front man. They needed to protect him. At least until the, whatever you want to call it…when we took over.”
“I didn’t agree to take over anything,” Crystal proclaimed.
“Well, baby, I never saw that we had much choice,” Willie offered in consolation.
Crystal continued, “So, these coin collector guys, the…uh…Class of 1923---”
Joe smiled. “I just call them ‘the Guys with the Empty Offices’.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing, don’t worry about it. Keep going.”
Crystal continued. “So these guys, when they realized we were about to…take over, they pulled their support from Scorse and left him out to dry? And that’s what’s causing all of this?”
Brother Cooper shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know about how all of that fits together, really.”
Joe jumped in, “Well whatever they were doing, the next thing that happened was that South-Medical had some layoffs, including that Rosalita lady.”
Taylor at last had something to offer. “Isabel Garcia. She got laid off, and must have been pretty ticked off at Scorse.”
Brother Cooper continued. “Right. And somehow, she knew about the ‘five locked walls.’ Shoot, maybe among these sorts of people, this kind of thing is common knowledge. Anyhow, she set to work breaking down the spell. According to Frankenhowser, she has been going about it the right way. Those runes we have been seeing? They translate to mean ‘unlock’, or something along those lines. She has been hitting each spot on Wednesdays and Sundays, defacing the grounds and placing the rune. Which is exactly, by the book, what needs to be done in order to break the spell. ”
“Tonight’s Wednesday!” Taylor exclaimed. Everyone looked over at her with stupid looks on their faces. Her face turned bright red. “Okay, guessing everyone already knew that.”
“So I count four locations so far. Church, library, medical building, and science center---”
“The digital hospital that South-Medical is building on 280,” Willie answered, before the question was even complete. “I saw the maps on the wall in her apartment.”
Joe stood up. “Cool. So we bust in on her tonight at the construction site. Toss a couple of fireball spells, and save the day.”
The group silently stared at Joe for a moment. Willie was the first to ask, “Can you actually do that now?”
Joe smirked, “Sure…piece of cake…all except for the fireball part. Actually, I am working on a new healing spell--”
Brother Cooper cleared his throat. “I just want to make sure everyone here knows this: you don’t have to go tonight if you don’t want to. I believe that the Lord has called me to do this, but I don’t hold any of you to that.”
“Oh please, preacher, like we could back out now,” Crystal rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, preacher, I’m in this for the long haul, or at least until I get some payback for my leg,” Willie grinned evilly.
“Hell, I just don’t have anything better to do,” Joe admitted.
Taylor spoke up, “I’m definitely in. I’m not backing out…but…could we make a quick stop before we get there?”
Old Drew Id
First Post
Session 5 (6/4/2003) Shopping Spree
Session 5 (6/4/2003) Shopping Spree
The aisles of Wal-Mart were clean, brightly lit, and almost completely deserted, considering the late hour. The overhead speakers were playing a slightly warbling version of “Girl from Ipanema,” interspersed with very polite requests for Earl to report to Customer Service for a check override and a friendly reminder that a blue pick-up had left their lights on in the parking lot.
The girl working the checkout could not have been more than sixteen, and she twirled a lock of blonde hair between her fingers while loudly smacking on a bright pink ball of bubble gum.
Taylor went through the line first. A couple of simple purchases: a black windbreaker, black men’s work-boots, black jeans. She swiped her card, took her purchases, and headed to the bathroom to change. After a quick swap of clothes in the (surprisingly spacious) stall, she stepped in front of the mirror to take a look.
She was hoping for something like Lucy Liu’s look in Charlie’s Angels. Instead, she looked like Margaret Cho dressed up for Goth party. Dejected, she shoved her old clothes into the shopping bag, tucked her gun into the back of her belt, and went back outside to wait by the register for everyone else.
Brother Cooper was already waiting there, holding a box of Tic-Tacs and a radio headset. He offered her one of the Tic-Tacs, but she ignored him.
Willie was at the register. He bought a box of .45 ammunition, two Swisher Sweets, and a coke. Taylor had not paid attention to what was being said, but she saw that Willie smiled as he talked to the checkout girl, and the girl blushed deeply and batted her eyes at him as he walked away.
Joe came next. More ammo, duct tape, fifty feet of nylon rope, and a flashlight. He apparently tried to mimic Willie’s smile and manner, and in response, the girl made no attempt to hide the look of revulsion on her face. After paying cash, Joe shuffled over to join everyone else.
Crystal stepped up to the register, carrying a brand new shotgun, ammo, ammo belt pouch, hunting knife, and work gloves. The checkout girl never even blinked as she rang up the purchase and accepted cash for everything.
Taylor took a deep breath, and led the way back to the car.
Now they were ready.
Session 5 (6/4/2003) Shopping Spree
The aisles of Wal-Mart were clean, brightly lit, and almost completely deserted, considering the late hour. The overhead speakers were playing a slightly warbling version of “Girl from Ipanema,” interspersed with very polite requests for Earl to report to Customer Service for a check override and a friendly reminder that a blue pick-up had left their lights on in the parking lot.
The girl working the checkout could not have been more than sixteen, and she twirled a lock of blonde hair between her fingers while loudly smacking on a bright pink ball of bubble gum.
Taylor went through the line first. A couple of simple purchases: a black windbreaker, black men’s work-boots, black jeans. She swiped her card, took her purchases, and headed to the bathroom to change. After a quick swap of clothes in the (surprisingly spacious) stall, she stepped in front of the mirror to take a look.
She was hoping for something like Lucy Liu’s look in Charlie’s Angels. Instead, she looked like Margaret Cho dressed up for Goth party. Dejected, she shoved her old clothes into the shopping bag, tucked her gun into the back of her belt, and went back outside to wait by the register for everyone else.
Brother Cooper was already waiting there, holding a box of Tic-Tacs and a radio headset. He offered her one of the Tic-Tacs, but she ignored him.
Willie was at the register. He bought a box of .45 ammunition, two Swisher Sweets, and a coke. Taylor had not paid attention to what was being said, but she saw that Willie smiled as he talked to the checkout girl, and the girl blushed deeply and batted her eyes at him as he walked away.
Joe came next. More ammo, duct tape, fifty feet of nylon rope, and a flashlight. He apparently tried to mimic Willie’s smile and manner, and in response, the girl made no attempt to hide the look of revulsion on her face. After paying cash, Joe shuffled over to join everyone else.
Crystal stepped up to the register, carrying a brand new shotgun, ammo, ammo belt pouch, hunting knife, and work gloves. The checkout girl never even blinked as she rang up the purchase and accepted cash for everything.
Taylor took a deep breath, and led the way back to the car.
Now they were ready.
Old Drew Id
First Post
Session 5 (6/4/2003) Final Firefight
Session 5 (6/4/2003) Final Firefight
The car slowly crunched over a rough gravel parking area leading up to the back of the construction site. Taylor killed the lights when they pulled off the road, and the whole group rode in darkened silence as they neared the chain-link fence at the border of the property.
The car stopped. Taylor cut the engine and stuck the keys in her pocket. Everyone stared out the windshield for a moment at the site.
The main building, mostly complete, stretched fourteen stories up into the night sky. A handful of spotlights pointed up at the upper stories to illuminate the site. A second five-story building abutted the back of the main building. The entire affair was perhaps two hundred yards from the bustling traffic on 280, separated by a thick swathe of trees and shadows.
Construction gear and machinery covered the grounds. Dump trucks, bulldozers, generators, and a hundred other pieces of nondescript equipment threw strange shadows across the landscape. The wind was blowing pretty fiercely, and bits of paper and debris blew past every few seconds.
Willie nudged Taylor’s shoulder, and she turned. He handed her a headset radio from his bag. She saw that he, Brother Cooper, and Joe were all already wearing similar headsets in the back. She took the radio and fitted it to her head as she continued to survey the area through the windshield.
She heard the nervousness in her own accented voice as she asked, “I wonder if they here yet?”
Crystal answered calmly from the (literally) shotgun seat, “Oh yeah, they’re here,” as she gestured up into the night sky with her new gun. Where she pointed, a one-hundred-and-fifty foot crane towered menacingly over the entire site. Hanging suspended from the crane’s hook, over a hundred feet in the air, was a man in a business suit. “And it looks like Dick Scorse is here, too.”
. . .
Taylor heard Brother Cooper praying as they left the car and scattered into the dark. It was something about “give me your shield of victory…stoop down to make me great.” She certainly didn’t care anything about being made great. She just wanted to get this over with and get out in one piece.
Crystal and the preacher took off into the building before them. Willie headed off around the right corner to circle the site and come up from the far side.
Joe was ahead of her, rounding the left side of the complex, dodging from one shadow to the next. Every now and then over the radio she heard snippets of his voice. It sounded like he was singing to himself. As she ducked in behind him as he hid between some barrels, she heard him more distinctly, but now it sounded more like he was whispering a chant to himself, “…kitana…jade…sub-zero…scorpion…” He turned and grinned to her, then darted off towards the cab of a dump truck.
Taylor took a deep breath and sprinted towards the next bit of cover, in this case a pile of steel beams near the corner of the building. She threw herself to the dirt once she was in the shadow of the steel and took a moment to check out the area.
She was around the other side of the building now. There were still more bulldozers and that sort of thing on this side, but there was a clearing near the base of the crane. In the clearing was a small bonfire, pretty much directly underneath where Scorse was dangling. Taylor counted three men carrying wood to the fire. No sign of anyone else in the area.
Now that she was up here, she wasn’t sure what she had been planning to do. She tried out the radio with a whisper, “I see front. I see three guy up here with wood…um…for fire”
For a frighteningly lonely moment there was no response, and Taylor wondered if she was on the right channel. Then Willie’s voice came over reassuringly, “Copy that, Tee. I’m in the southeast corner. I got a visual on three perps tending a bonfire. No sign of voodoo lady. Wait…one of the perps over here is not carrying wood. He’s got a rifle. Repeat, we have a bad guy with a rifle. I’m gonna try to get in behind him. Over.”
Crystal’s voice responded almost instantly, whispering, “Me and the preacher are on shotgun duty inside, heading up the main hallway towards your side of the building. We got nobody in here so far. Still moving up.”
A deep rumbling growl sounded from behind Taylor, and she whipped her gun around to point in that direction, as Joe’s voice sounded over the radio: “Guys…I…have…a…dump…truck.”
Before anyone could respond, the dump truck lurched forward with a grinding sound and roared into the clearing. The truck trampled straight over one of the (very) surprised thugs carrying firewood, and smashed into the bonfire, sending sparks and flaming wood scattering in five different directions.
Willie’s voice was quick on the radio, “Wait! S#%T! WAIT! Oh hell…GO!!! GO!!! GO!!!”
Taylor leapt up from her hiding spot and began running to her left to try to flank the thugs. She spotted the one closest to the bonfire and tossed a shot off at him as she ran. The shot went wild, but he spun towards her, and she realized she had given her position away.
Taylor ducked behind a stack of barrels and started to look for the next piece of cover. She looked out to the left, and saw him. Another thug, with a rifle. He pointed the rifle straight at her, and fired.
Session 5 (6/4/2003) Final Firefight
The car slowly crunched over a rough gravel parking area leading up to the back of the construction site. Taylor killed the lights when they pulled off the road, and the whole group rode in darkened silence as they neared the chain-link fence at the border of the property.
The car stopped. Taylor cut the engine and stuck the keys in her pocket. Everyone stared out the windshield for a moment at the site.
The main building, mostly complete, stretched fourteen stories up into the night sky. A handful of spotlights pointed up at the upper stories to illuminate the site. A second five-story building abutted the back of the main building. The entire affair was perhaps two hundred yards from the bustling traffic on 280, separated by a thick swathe of trees and shadows.
Construction gear and machinery covered the grounds. Dump trucks, bulldozers, generators, and a hundred other pieces of nondescript equipment threw strange shadows across the landscape. The wind was blowing pretty fiercely, and bits of paper and debris blew past every few seconds.
Willie nudged Taylor’s shoulder, and she turned. He handed her a headset radio from his bag. She saw that he, Brother Cooper, and Joe were all already wearing similar headsets in the back. She took the radio and fitted it to her head as she continued to survey the area through the windshield.
She heard the nervousness in her own accented voice as she asked, “I wonder if they here yet?”
Crystal answered calmly from the (literally) shotgun seat, “Oh yeah, they’re here,” as she gestured up into the night sky with her new gun. Where she pointed, a one-hundred-and-fifty foot crane towered menacingly over the entire site. Hanging suspended from the crane’s hook, over a hundred feet in the air, was a man in a business suit. “And it looks like Dick Scorse is here, too.”
. . .
Taylor heard Brother Cooper praying as they left the car and scattered into the dark. It was something about “give me your shield of victory…stoop down to make me great.” She certainly didn’t care anything about being made great. She just wanted to get this over with and get out in one piece.
Crystal and the preacher took off into the building before them. Willie headed off around the right corner to circle the site and come up from the far side.
Joe was ahead of her, rounding the left side of the complex, dodging from one shadow to the next. Every now and then over the radio she heard snippets of his voice. It sounded like he was singing to himself. As she ducked in behind him as he hid between some barrels, she heard him more distinctly, but now it sounded more like he was whispering a chant to himself, “…kitana…jade…sub-zero…scorpion…” He turned and grinned to her, then darted off towards the cab of a dump truck.
Taylor took a deep breath and sprinted towards the next bit of cover, in this case a pile of steel beams near the corner of the building. She threw herself to the dirt once she was in the shadow of the steel and took a moment to check out the area.
She was around the other side of the building now. There were still more bulldozers and that sort of thing on this side, but there was a clearing near the base of the crane. In the clearing was a small bonfire, pretty much directly underneath where Scorse was dangling. Taylor counted three men carrying wood to the fire. No sign of anyone else in the area.
Now that she was up here, she wasn’t sure what she had been planning to do. She tried out the radio with a whisper, “I see front. I see three guy up here with wood…um…for fire”
For a frighteningly lonely moment there was no response, and Taylor wondered if she was on the right channel. Then Willie’s voice came over reassuringly, “Copy that, Tee. I’m in the southeast corner. I got a visual on three perps tending a bonfire. No sign of voodoo lady. Wait…one of the perps over here is not carrying wood. He’s got a rifle. Repeat, we have a bad guy with a rifle. I’m gonna try to get in behind him. Over.”
Crystal’s voice responded almost instantly, whispering, “Me and the preacher are on shotgun duty inside, heading up the main hallway towards your side of the building. We got nobody in here so far. Still moving up.”
A deep rumbling growl sounded from behind Taylor, and she whipped her gun around to point in that direction, as Joe’s voice sounded over the radio: “Guys…I…have…a…dump…truck.”
Before anyone could respond, the dump truck lurched forward with a grinding sound and roared into the clearing. The truck trampled straight over one of the (very) surprised thugs carrying firewood, and smashed into the bonfire, sending sparks and flaming wood scattering in five different directions.
Willie’s voice was quick on the radio, “Wait! S#%T! WAIT! Oh hell…GO!!! GO!!! GO!!!”
Taylor leapt up from her hiding spot and began running to her left to try to flank the thugs. She spotted the one closest to the bonfire and tossed a shot off at him as she ran. The shot went wild, but he spun towards her, and she realized she had given her position away.
Taylor ducked behind a stack of barrels and started to look for the next piece of cover. She looked out to the left, and saw him. Another thug, with a rifle. He pointed the rifle straight at her, and fired.
Old Drew Id
First Post
Session 5 (6/4/2003) Blood And Water
Session 5 (6/4/2003) Blood And Water
Crystal heard the diesel engine roar from inside the building, and knew immediately what that sound meant, even before Joe announced his “plan”. She turned to meet Brother Cooper’s gaze in the dark hallway as Willie was screaming into the radio. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, then gestured forward with his shotgun. They continued to move up.
They were near the end of the hall, now maybe fifty feet from the doorway leading out. Crystal could see the light from the scattered bonfire playing on the ceiling up ahead. On the left and right up ahead were two more open doorways before the end of the hall.
Crystal darted forward and pointed her gun into the left doorway. An empty stairwell leading up. She nodded back to Cooper and started to move forward again when movement caught her eye on the stairs. She paused and leveled the gun at the stairs.
Brother Cooper was up beside her now, his own shotgun covering the hallway, but close enough that he could see into the stairwell.
It came quicker than she expected. The thug was suddenly down the stairs in an split second, and right in her face. She fired, and the shotgun kicked in her grip. The blast took the thug straight in the chest, throwing him backwards and knocking chunks of flesh off in multiple directions, but he remained standing.
Crystal stood there in horror and the zombie took another step forward. She could see now in the firelight; its face was half eaten away with decay. His upper lip was corroded and hanging off at an angle, giving him a weird angry sneering expression as he approached.
Brother Cooper’s voice was sudden, commanding, and angry. “I cast you out!” he bellowed as he pulled a plastic tub from his coat pocket. He splashed something on the zombie and in an instant the creature collapsed into a smoking pile of decay on the floor.
The preacher gazed at the ruined corpse before them, then looked back up at Crystal and grinned, “You just gotta have faith, Crystal…although the holy water does help.”
Crystal grinned and turned back around towards the other open door. As she turned, another zombie cam stumbling out of the doorway towards them. And behind the zombie, a woman with a gun.
Crystal ejected the spent shell from her shotgun with a loud “cha-chink”. She leveled the gun at Mama Garcia, and smiled, “It’s about time, b*#ch!”
. . .
Willie saw the guy, but it was too late. He watched him fire in slow motion, and saw the bullet tear a baseball-sized hole clear through Taylor’s throat. Willie had served in combat before, back in the day, and even from this far away, he knew a fatality when he saw it.
This was not right. This was not what was supposed to happen. This was not justice.
Willie felt his anger boil over. The world went red.
. . .
Joe spilled out of the cab of the dump truck and ran across the clearing. He ignored the cracks of gunfire around him, and ran towards where Taylor had fallen.
“NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!” He was there, on top of her. A bullet careened off a barrel next to his head. He dragged her backwards, behind cover, and knelt down beside her.
Her throat was a mess of ground meat. The hole was huge, and blood was squirting out from her throat in fast pulses like someone squeezing a juice box and spraying it everywhere. Blood was everywhere.
Joe put his hands over the wound to try to stop the flow, but the blood just oozed around his fingers. “Taylor, hey, don’t die! No! Don’t die! Hey! Hey! Look! I’m not ready yet! Hey, look! I’ve got a spell I’m working on! Seriously! Wait! I’ve got a new spell! I just need a couple more days! It’s a healing spell! I can fix this! Seriously! Come on, Taylor! I was just kidding. You’re my friend! Wait! Seriously! F*CK! JUST A COUPLE MORE DAYS! Just wait! Just wait! Please! I can fix this!”
The blood flow stopped oozing out from around his fingers. Joe felt his eyes burning and a heavy lump forming in his throat. The blood flow had stopped, not because she was getting better, but because her heart had simply stopped beating.
Joe swallowed, and took a long slow deep breath. He removed his hands from the dead body.
A crack like someone stepping on a dried twig sounded behind him. Joe grabbed Taylor’s gun from the ground next to her and spun around. It was the thug with the rifle, now aiming at Joe.
“YOU SON OF A B%#CH!” Joe screamed. Then he was standing, and running forward, and firing. He emptied the gun into the thug from point blank range, three, four, five bullets in the chest. The thug fell lifeless to the ground, but Joe kept plugging away until the clip was empty.
. . .
Mama Garcia saw the gun and ran outside towards the bonfire. Brother Cooper motioned to Crystal to follow, and turned to the new zombie. “I got this one,” he assured her, as she took off after the witch.
The zombie’s head was off at an angle. Perhaps it had originally died in a fall or from some other injury to the head. As it lurched towards the preacher with its head cocked off to one side, it seemed to Guyzell like its expression was almost innocent, like the way a dog cocks its head to the side when it sees something it doesn’t understand.
“May the Lord have mercy on your soul.”
Holy water splashed out, and like the finger of God, struck the zombie down where it stood.
Gunfire was still sounding outside, and Guyzell realized some of it was coming from somewhere up above him. He would have slapped himself on the forehead if he had had a hand free. He pounded up the stairwell to the second floor.
A dozen windows opened up onto the front of the building from the large unfinished room upstairs. The wind blew in with a frightening cat-like howl. At one of those windows, a dark figure crouched with a gun, firing into the clearing. Brother Cooper paused, unsure if his target was a person or a zombie, and he hesitated with his holy water in one hand and his shotgun in the other.
The figure must have heard him, and turned around to face him. There was no skin on the face left, and only one eye in its socket. It grinned a skinless grin as the rifle turned towards Brother Cooper.
Holy water splashed out, and judgment was passed down on the abomination.
As Brother Cooper stood over the smoking debris, his radio crackled with Crystal’s voice.
. . .
Crystal fired after Isabel Garcia, but the witch was fast, and she ducked a stack of crates, firing backwards behind her. Crystal returned fire, but there was too much cover in the way. Growling a stream of obscenities, Crystal chased after her.
Crystal rounded the corner of the stack of crates and saw the scattered bonfire and the still-running dump truck. Another gunshot ricocheted past her from near the dump truck. Then she saw the witch. She fired, and blood sprayed up from the witch’s arm. She dropped her pistol and howled an inhuman screech.
Crystal stepped forward to finish the job, but something grabbed her ankles. She tripped and fell forward. The shotgun fell out of her grip and landed just out of reach. She twisted around to see behind her.
A zombie was under the truck’s tires, where Joe must have run the thing over. It was caught by the waist, horribly mangled and twisted under the weight of the truck, but still very much alive and trying to win. It had Crystal by the ankle, and was dragging her back under the truck.
She yelled into her radio, “Preacher! I could use some help here!”
She tried to kick at the thing, but its grip was like steel, and she was pulled an inch closer under the truck.
And then, from somewhere in the heavens above her, a Tupperware container, full of holy water, exploded onto the hood of the dump truck, showering her and the zombie with droplets of sacred power.
The zombie’s grip failed as it fell apart, and Crystal scrambled to her shotgun. She picked it up and rolled towards the witch.
Isabel Garcia was standing there, chanting. Crystal felt her hair standing on end as the words poured out of the woman, conjuring something filthy into the world.
“The hell you will,” Crystal muttered. She pulled the trigger and blew the witch’s head off.
Isabel Garcia’s body collapsed. Crystal breathed a slow sigh of relief, and then paused. She realized the witch had not been looking at her when she had been chanting. Instead she has been staring up into the sky. Crystal looked up.
There was a figure up in the crane controls, a hundred-and-fifty feet up. The crane was still moving, pulling Scorse up to the top. The spotlights threw the whole thing into stark relief, as the whole tower swayed in the strong wind.
Crystal dropped the shotgun and ran to the ladder of the crane. She unsheathed her knife on the way, and gripped it in her teeth. She felt her stomach grow cold as she began to climb. She already knew, there was no way she could make it to the top before whoever was in the top of the crane could reach Scorse.
Session 5 (6/4/2003) Blood And Water
Crystal heard the diesel engine roar from inside the building, and knew immediately what that sound meant, even before Joe announced his “plan”. She turned to meet Brother Cooper’s gaze in the dark hallway as Willie was screaming into the radio. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, then gestured forward with his shotgun. They continued to move up.
They were near the end of the hall, now maybe fifty feet from the doorway leading out. Crystal could see the light from the scattered bonfire playing on the ceiling up ahead. On the left and right up ahead were two more open doorways before the end of the hall.
Crystal darted forward and pointed her gun into the left doorway. An empty stairwell leading up. She nodded back to Cooper and started to move forward again when movement caught her eye on the stairs. She paused and leveled the gun at the stairs.
Brother Cooper was up beside her now, his own shotgun covering the hallway, but close enough that he could see into the stairwell.
It came quicker than she expected. The thug was suddenly down the stairs in an split second, and right in her face. She fired, and the shotgun kicked in her grip. The blast took the thug straight in the chest, throwing him backwards and knocking chunks of flesh off in multiple directions, but he remained standing.
Crystal stood there in horror and the zombie took another step forward. She could see now in the firelight; its face was half eaten away with decay. His upper lip was corroded and hanging off at an angle, giving him a weird angry sneering expression as he approached.
Brother Cooper’s voice was sudden, commanding, and angry. “I cast you out!” he bellowed as he pulled a plastic tub from his coat pocket. He splashed something on the zombie and in an instant the creature collapsed into a smoking pile of decay on the floor.
The preacher gazed at the ruined corpse before them, then looked back up at Crystal and grinned, “You just gotta have faith, Crystal…although the holy water does help.”
Crystal grinned and turned back around towards the other open door. As she turned, another zombie cam stumbling out of the doorway towards them. And behind the zombie, a woman with a gun.
Crystal ejected the spent shell from her shotgun with a loud “cha-chink”. She leveled the gun at Mama Garcia, and smiled, “It’s about time, b*#ch!”
. . .
Willie saw the guy, but it was too late. He watched him fire in slow motion, and saw the bullet tear a baseball-sized hole clear through Taylor’s throat. Willie had served in combat before, back in the day, and even from this far away, he knew a fatality when he saw it.
This was not right. This was not what was supposed to happen. This was not justice.
Willie felt his anger boil over. The world went red.
. . .
Joe spilled out of the cab of the dump truck and ran across the clearing. He ignored the cracks of gunfire around him, and ran towards where Taylor had fallen.
“NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!” He was there, on top of her. A bullet careened off a barrel next to his head. He dragged her backwards, behind cover, and knelt down beside her.
Her throat was a mess of ground meat. The hole was huge, and blood was squirting out from her throat in fast pulses like someone squeezing a juice box and spraying it everywhere. Blood was everywhere.
Joe put his hands over the wound to try to stop the flow, but the blood just oozed around his fingers. “Taylor, hey, don’t die! No! Don’t die! Hey! Hey! Look! I’m not ready yet! Hey, look! I’ve got a spell I’m working on! Seriously! Wait! I’ve got a new spell! I just need a couple more days! It’s a healing spell! I can fix this! Seriously! Come on, Taylor! I was just kidding. You’re my friend! Wait! Seriously! F*CK! JUST A COUPLE MORE DAYS! Just wait! Just wait! Please! I can fix this!”
The blood flow stopped oozing out from around his fingers. Joe felt his eyes burning and a heavy lump forming in his throat. The blood flow had stopped, not because she was getting better, but because her heart had simply stopped beating.
Joe swallowed, and took a long slow deep breath. He removed his hands from the dead body.
A crack like someone stepping on a dried twig sounded behind him. Joe grabbed Taylor’s gun from the ground next to her and spun around. It was the thug with the rifle, now aiming at Joe.
“YOU SON OF A B%#CH!” Joe screamed. Then he was standing, and running forward, and firing. He emptied the gun into the thug from point blank range, three, four, five bullets in the chest. The thug fell lifeless to the ground, but Joe kept plugging away until the clip was empty.
. . .
Mama Garcia saw the gun and ran outside towards the bonfire. Brother Cooper motioned to Crystal to follow, and turned to the new zombie. “I got this one,” he assured her, as she took off after the witch.
The zombie’s head was off at an angle. Perhaps it had originally died in a fall or from some other injury to the head. As it lurched towards the preacher with its head cocked off to one side, it seemed to Guyzell like its expression was almost innocent, like the way a dog cocks its head to the side when it sees something it doesn’t understand.
“May the Lord have mercy on your soul.”
Holy water splashed out, and like the finger of God, struck the zombie down where it stood.
Gunfire was still sounding outside, and Guyzell realized some of it was coming from somewhere up above him. He would have slapped himself on the forehead if he had had a hand free. He pounded up the stairwell to the second floor.
A dozen windows opened up onto the front of the building from the large unfinished room upstairs. The wind blew in with a frightening cat-like howl. At one of those windows, a dark figure crouched with a gun, firing into the clearing. Brother Cooper paused, unsure if his target was a person or a zombie, and he hesitated with his holy water in one hand and his shotgun in the other.
The figure must have heard him, and turned around to face him. There was no skin on the face left, and only one eye in its socket. It grinned a skinless grin as the rifle turned towards Brother Cooper.
Holy water splashed out, and judgment was passed down on the abomination.
As Brother Cooper stood over the smoking debris, his radio crackled with Crystal’s voice.
. . .
Crystal fired after Isabel Garcia, but the witch was fast, and she ducked a stack of crates, firing backwards behind her. Crystal returned fire, but there was too much cover in the way. Growling a stream of obscenities, Crystal chased after her.
Crystal rounded the corner of the stack of crates and saw the scattered bonfire and the still-running dump truck. Another gunshot ricocheted past her from near the dump truck. Then she saw the witch. She fired, and blood sprayed up from the witch’s arm. She dropped her pistol and howled an inhuman screech.
Crystal stepped forward to finish the job, but something grabbed her ankles. She tripped and fell forward. The shotgun fell out of her grip and landed just out of reach. She twisted around to see behind her.
A zombie was under the truck’s tires, where Joe must have run the thing over. It was caught by the waist, horribly mangled and twisted under the weight of the truck, but still very much alive and trying to win. It had Crystal by the ankle, and was dragging her back under the truck.
She yelled into her radio, “Preacher! I could use some help here!”
She tried to kick at the thing, but its grip was like steel, and she was pulled an inch closer under the truck.
And then, from somewhere in the heavens above her, a Tupperware container, full of holy water, exploded onto the hood of the dump truck, showering her and the zombie with droplets of sacred power.
The zombie’s grip failed as it fell apart, and Crystal scrambled to her shotgun. She picked it up and rolled towards the witch.
Isabel Garcia was standing there, chanting. Crystal felt her hair standing on end as the words poured out of the woman, conjuring something filthy into the world.
“The hell you will,” Crystal muttered. She pulled the trigger and blew the witch’s head off.
Isabel Garcia’s body collapsed. Crystal breathed a slow sigh of relief, and then paused. She realized the witch had not been looking at her when she had been chanting. Instead she has been staring up into the sky. Crystal looked up.
There was a figure up in the crane controls, a hundred-and-fifty feet up. The crane was still moving, pulling Scorse up to the top. The spotlights threw the whole thing into stark relief, as the whole tower swayed in the strong wind.
Crystal dropped the shotgun and ran to the ladder of the crane. She unsheathed her knife on the way, and gripped it in her teeth. She felt her stomach grow cold as she began to climb. She already knew, there was no way she could make it to the top before whoever was in the top of the crane could reach Scorse.
Old Drew Id
First Post
Session 5 (6/4/2003) Willie's New Friend
Session 5 (6/4/2003) Willie's New Friend
Willie marched forward. He shot one thug as they crossed paths, then another just as easily. They fell before him like dolls, dead and gone, as he marched on.
The world was red. There was no justice here.
He made it to the clearing. He saw the dead zombies, and the dead witch. He saw Joe kneeling over Taylor’s body off to his right.
The world was red. There was no justice here.
He saw Crystal climbing the ladder in the crane, and he looked up. He saw the figure in the crane control booth at the top of the crane. He saw Scorse dangling from the hook. He saw the figure in the control booth get out of the seat and start crawling along the length of the crane, moving towards Scorse. From this distance, he could see that the figure, whether it was a zombie or a thug, had a knife gripped in its mouth s it crawled forward. He knew the perp would make it to Scorse before Crystal could make it to the top. Scorse was gonna die before Crystal got to the top of that ladder, and there was nothing he could do about it.
The world was red. There was no justice here.
“I can give you de justice you be seekin’.”
The voice was rich and warm. Willie tasted banana rum in his throat, and smelled the smoke from a sweet cigar. The voice was deep and male, with an accent like something from the Caribbean. Something very male, very old, and very strong. Something that believed in justice.
Willie took only a second to decide.
“Okay, do it.”
Then Willie was outside. He was floating somewhere nearby, watching his own body, like those crazy white people who nearly die on the operating table and think they’re on their way to heaven. And he was very calm.
Willie’s body picked up a rifle off the ground. Time for one shot. A hundred and fifty feet straight up. High wind with a variable direction. And the target is swaying back and forth, moving, and has partial cover from the crane.
Willie’s body never hesitated. The rifle fired as soon as it was brought up to bear.
The dark figure froze, hesitated a half-second, then slipped off the side of the crane, and fell.
Scorse was safe. The battle was over.
Then Willie was back in his body. Exhausted and…thirsty.
“Now you be mine, boy. Forever.”
Session 5 (6/4/2003) Willie's New Friend
Willie marched forward. He shot one thug as they crossed paths, then another just as easily. They fell before him like dolls, dead and gone, as he marched on.
The world was red. There was no justice here.
He made it to the clearing. He saw the dead zombies, and the dead witch. He saw Joe kneeling over Taylor’s body off to his right.
The world was red. There was no justice here.
He saw Crystal climbing the ladder in the crane, and he looked up. He saw the figure in the crane control booth at the top of the crane. He saw Scorse dangling from the hook. He saw the figure in the control booth get out of the seat and start crawling along the length of the crane, moving towards Scorse. From this distance, he could see that the figure, whether it was a zombie or a thug, had a knife gripped in its mouth s it crawled forward. He knew the perp would make it to Scorse before Crystal could make it to the top. Scorse was gonna die before Crystal got to the top of that ladder, and there was nothing he could do about it.
The world was red. There was no justice here.
“I can give you de justice you be seekin’.”
The voice was rich and warm. Willie tasted banana rum in his throat, and smelled the smoke from a sweet cigar. The voice was deep and male, with an accent like something from the Caribbean. Something very male, very old, and very strong. Something that believed in justice.
Willie took only a second to decide.
“Okay, do it.”
Then Willie was outside. He was floating somewhere nearby, watching his own body, like those crazy white people who nearly die on the operating table and think they’re on their way to heaven. And he was very calm.
Willie’s body picked up a rifle off the ground. Time for one shot. A hundred and fifty feet straight up. High wind with a variable direction. And the target is swaying back and forth, moving, and has partial cover from the crane.
Willie’s body never hesitated. The rifle fired as soon as it was brought up to bear.
The dark figure froze, hesitated a half-second, then slipped off the side of the crane, and fell.
Scorse was safe. The battle was over.
Then Willie was back in his body. Exhausted and…thirsty.
“Now you be mine, boy. Forever.”
Old Drew Id
First Post
Session 5 (6/4/2003) Episode 1 Epilogue
Episode 1 Epilogue
Traffic still moved on Highway 280. The sound of gunfire must have been lost in the open space. The smell of diesel exhaust was slow fading away on the wind. The night was getting cool.
Brother Cooper flipped his cell phone closed. “The police are on their way. I didn’t give anything in the way of details, but they are definitely on the way.”
Willie and Crystal exchanged a nervous look, as they hastily shoved their guns into their holsters. Joe had returned to standing over Taylor’s body, chewing his lip. He had taken off his jacket and silently placed it over her body, and was otherwise ignoring everyone else.
Scorse rubbed his wrists where the rope had cut into his skin. He glanced at each of his rescuers with a knowing look. “Something tells me that I don’t know half of what’s going on here… and that you might not be too eager to tell the police everything you know…” Willie met his gaze, and wordlessly confirmed his suspicions. Scorse rolled his eyes in a pained expression. “And the last thing I need right now is further scandal…”
The wind shifted. Sirens could be heard in the distance.
Scorse cleared his throat, “All right… when the police arrive, follow my lead.”
“Here comes the cover-up,” said Joe, with a deep grimace and a dead look in his eyes. The preacher moved over to Joe’s side, and began tending to Taylor’s body. After a moment, Joe helped him. The others heard him faintly praying over her, as his hands moved beneath the makeshift shroud.
Scorse turned to Willie and Crystal. “Is there anything else I need to know? I mean, that will need explaining to the police?”
Willie blushed, and sighed heavily. “If they check my gun, they’re gonna find bullets matching some they probably found at McWane Center – “
“That was you?” Scorse seemed surprised.
“Um… yeah, on the defending side of course… and another bullet at her place,” Willie said, pointing to Garcia’s body.
Scorse rubbed one hand through his hair, and inhaled deeply. “Anything else?”
Then Crystal saw it. What she’d said a dozen times before about white men, and here she was actually seeing it in person. She looked at the ex-businessman, clearly exhausted and trying to recover from his near-death experience just moments ago, and yet, as he stood their before her, she could see the wheels turning. He’s constructing a lie to get out of this. She stood transfixed. It was like watching the nature channel, seeing an animal perform some task that it had been evolved specifically to perform.
She had to interrupt, if only to see it as a test of his skill. “They probably found a bullet or two of mine at McWane as well…”
Scorse just nodded, as his face was lit by a brief flash of red and blue lights on 280. The siren was much closer now. “Trust me. I can take care of it. I need to borrow a phone… quickly.”
The businessman dialed a number into Crystal’s phone. After a moment, he spoke, “Rich? This is me. I need to call in that favor.”
Willie and Crystal both looked at each other and silently mouthed, “Rich?” Scorse did not seem to notice.
“I have a crime scene here. I was nearly killed… and kidnapped…long story, and no time to tell it now…” Scorse glanced up at the approaching police cars. He could make out their headlights approaching on the service road now.
“I have two people here, with guns that should not be connected to them. They need … their guns were stolen from them, and they have just recovered them here. I need you to file a report for when they were stolen…sometime last week… Right…Right…Thanks, Rich…Alright, the first is a man named Willie Lamar…”
There was a pause, and Scorse looked at Willie with further surprise. “Were you involved in a library break-in last week in Vestavia?”
Willie gulped hard. He nodded. The four police cars were skidding to a stop about 30 feet away.
“Yes, that’s him…and the second is a girl named Crystal Lassiter…No kidding?…Yes, I think so… Alright, that’ll work…”
He hung up the phone, as the first police car emptied out two uniforms, their guns and flashlights out, shouting orders. Everyone raised their hands into the air.
. . .
As the door to the shop opened, the morning was pierced by the screeching, eye-wateringly loud sound of trumpets blaring the Star Trek theme song coming from several hidden speakers.
Joe bent down behind the counter for a moment, flicked a switch to disable the alarm, and came back up with a cold Mountain Dew from his mini-fridge, as the other three exhausted investigators spilled into The Griffon Comic Shop. The sun was just barely rising under a heavy blanket of pink clouds, and the shop was eerily quiet. As Guyzell closed the front door behind them, the police cruiser that had dropped them off slowly pulled away into the early Southside morning.
“So I still don’t get exactly what was up with that phone call,” Joe said. “The cops asked me about what happened, but I refused to give them anything more than my name, rank, and serial number.”
“Rank?” Crystal raised an eyebrow.
“Junior Star Fleet Captain, First Class,” Joe recited, with the tired remains of a proud grin on his face. He glanced down to see the Necromonicon was now in his shop’s front display case, surrounded by Star Wars figures in a circle posed so they were bowing down to it. He knew he had not put it there, but he wasn’t surprised by finding it there. “Anyhow, I guess when they figured out that I wasn’t gonna say anything, they stopped asking. But on the other hand, that means I don’t know what they told you guys”
Crystal half-grinned, and slumped exhausted into one of the chairs surrounding the shop’s main gaming table. “It’s a cover-up, so it should be right up your alley.”
Brother Cooper explained as he began to brew some coffee, “He called the gentleman from the Vestavia Police Department. Rich Hall. Mr. Hall changed the police report on the library attack. If you were to go get a copy today, it should say that Willie’s and Crystal’s guns were stolen in that attack by somebody that got away before the police got there.”
Willie then continued. “Scorse’s lawyers met him down at the station, and I’m guessing, filled him in on some other details from our man in Vestavia. Anyhow, according to rich boy, he hired me a few weeks ago to check out a stalker he had been threatened by. Which is why I was supposed to be staking out the library when we were attacked. Scary part is, this brother moves fast. When I called my cousin from the station, the lawyers had already talked to him. He’s got records now of when we were ‘hired’.”
Crystal finished the story, “So then the rest of us were innocent bystanders at the library, but we have since apparently (according to Scorse) become friends or a support group or something. We were hanging out together trying to help Willie with this stalker case when we were driving over to 280 and we just stumbled onto this whole scene.”
Joe thought for a minute. “So the stalker lady, along with some bums, stole your guns, used them at McWane Center, and again at her apartment, and then used them last night. But we beat them anyway, and got your guns back… For a cover-up, it’s pretty good… better than Roswell at least.”
The group silently waited for the coffee to finish brewing.
Crystal frowned into her cup. “We should be able to get our guns back from impound in 24 hours. It would have been nice to keep those rifles though…. And now what about the library? How are we supposed to get into the attic?”
Brother answered by pulling keys and several licenses from his pocket. “I have the keys to the library. And these were in Taylor’s wallet, and I thought it might be best if they were not found.” The licenses were all fakes, identifying Taylor variously as a private investigator, police officer, and other similar identities.
Willie looked up from his cup. “Nice work, preacher. So, if y’all are plan on going back to the library regular, we might want to make it a habit to meet there every now an’ then. You know, keep in contact like once a week or something, if we figure out any more of this coin-collecting stuff.” The others nodded in agreement. They each had plans of returning to the library attic in the near future. “So, do you think Scorse knows about the library and everything?”
Crystal answered, “I don’t think so. I saw him making up the whole story. I think he is just so used to people around him doing things that they don’t want people to know about, that he just covers things up all the time. I kind of got the impression, like he was just trained for this, you know? Just like he was trained specifically for covering things up, maybe even driven unconsciously to always cover things up, and he doesn’t even know why. ”
. . .
The Birmingham Post-Herald newspaper covered the story that same afternoon. Page 2. “Scorse survives Stalker”. According the article, he was kidnapped from his residence and then rescued by “private security forces.” Everyone involved declined to comment. There were no pictures taken. The media never contacted any of the members of the “Class of 1924.”
. . .
The rewards arrived later that same day. Four identical checks, dropped off to each of the investigators, at home, by a delivery boy from South-Medical. Ten thousand dollars each. A note sent with Joe’s check stated that a similar check has been delivered to Taylor’s family.
Episode 1 Epilogue
Traffic still moved on Highway 280. The sound of gunfire must have been lost in the open space. The smell of diesel exhaust was slow fading away on the wind. The night was getting cool.
Brother Cooper flipped his cell phone closed. “The police are on their way. I didn’t give anything in the way of details, but they are definitely on the way.”
Willie and Crystal exchanged a nervous look, as they hastily shoved their guns into their holsters. Joe had returned to standing over Taylor’s body, chewing his lip. He had taken off his jacket and silently placed it over her body, and was otherwise ignoring everyone else.
Scorse rubbed his wrists where the rope had cut into his skin. He glanced at each of his rescuers with a knowing look. “Something tells me that I don’t know half of what’s going on here… and that you might not be too eager to tell the police everything you know…” Willie met his gaze, and wordlessly confirmed his suspicions. Scorse rolled his eyes in a pained expression. “And the last thing I need right now is further scandal…”
The wind shifted. Sirens could be heard in the distance.
Scorse cleared his throat, “All right… when the police arrive, follow my lead.”
“Here comes the cover-up,” said Joe, with a deep grimace and a dead look in his eyes. The preacher moved over to Joe’s side, and began tending to Taylor’s body. After a moment, Joe helped him. The others heard him faintly praying over her, as his hands moved beneath the makeshift shroud.
Scorse turned to Willie and Crystal. “Is there anything else I need to know? I mean, that will need explaining to the police?”
Willie blushed, and sighed heavily. “If they check my gun, they’re gonna find bullets matching some they probably found at McWane Center – “
“That was you?” Scorse seemed surprised.
“Um… yeah, on the defending side of course… and another bullet at her place,” Willie said, pointing to Garcia’s body.
Scorse rubbed one hand through his hair, and inhaled deeply. “Anything else?”
Then Crystal saw it. What she’d said a dozen times before about white men, and here she was actually seeing it in person. She looked at the ex-businessman, clearly exhausted and trying to recover from his near-death experience just moments ago, and yet, as he stood their before her, she could see the wheels turning. He’s constructing a lie to get out of this. She stood transfixed. It was like watching the nature channel, seeing an animal perform some task that it had been evolved specifically to perform.
She had to interrupt, if only to see it as a test of his skill. “They probably found a bullet or two of mine at McWane as well…”
Scorse just nodded, as his face was lit by a brief flash of red and blue lights on 280. The siren was much closer now. “Trust me. I can take care of it. I need to borrow a phone… quickly.”
The businessman dialed a number into Crystal’s phone. After a moment, he spoke, “Rich? This is me. I need to call in that favor.”
Willie and Crystal both looked at each other and silently mouthed, “Rich?” Scorse did not seem to notice.
“I have a crime scene here. I was nearly killed… and kidnapped…long story, and no time to tell it now…” Scorse glanced up at the approaching police cars. He could make out their headlights approaching on the service road now.
“I have two people here, with guns that should not be connected to them. They need … their guns were stolen from them, and they have just recovered them here. I need you to file a report for when they were stolen…sometime last week… Right…Right…Thanks, Rich…Alright, the first is a man named Willie Lamar…”
There was a pause, and Scorse looked at Willie with further surprise. “Were you involved in a library break-in last week in Vestavia?”
Willie gulped hard. He nodded. The four police cars were skidding to a stop about 30 feet away.
“Yes, that’s him…and the second is a girl named Crystal Lassiter…No kidding?…Yes, I think so… Alright, that’ll work…”
He hung up the phone, as the first police car emptied out two uniforms, their guns and flashlights out, shouting orders. Everyone raised their hands into the air.
. . .
As the door to the shop opened, the morning was pierced by the screeching, eye-wateringly loud sound of trumpets blaring the Star Trek theme song coming from several hidden speakers.
Joe bent down behind the counter for a moment, flicked a switch to disable the alarm, and came back up with a cold Mountain Dew from his mini-fridge, as the other three exhausted investigators spilled into The Griffon Comic Shop. The sun was just barely rising under a heavy blanket of pink clouds, and the shop was eerily quiet. As Guyzell closed the front door behind them, the police cruiser that had dropped them off slowly pulled away into the early Southside morning.
“So I still don’t get exactly what was up with that phone call,” Joe said. “The cops asked me about what happened, but I refused to give them anything more than my name, rank, and serial number.”
“Rank?” Crystal raised an eyebrow.
“Junior Star Fleet Captain, First Class,” Joe recited, with the tired remains of a proud grin on his face. He glanced down to see the Necromonicon was now in his shop’s front display case, surrounded by Star Wars figures in a circle posed so they were bowing down to it. He knew he had not put it there, but he wasn’t surprised by finding it there. “Anyhow, I guess when they figured out that I wasn’t gonna say anything, they stopped asking. But on the other hand, that means I don’t know what they told you guys”
Crystal half-grinned, and slumped exhausted into one of the chairs surrounding the shop’s main gaming table. “It’s a cover-up, so it should be right up your alley.”
Brother Cooper explained as he began to brew some coffee, “He called the gentleman from the Vestavia Police Department. Rich Hall. Mr. Hall changed the police report on the library attack. If you were to go get a copy today, it should say that Willie’s and Crystal’s guns were stolen in that attack by somebody that got away before the police got there.”
Willie then continued. “Scorse’s lawyers met him down at the station, and I’m guessing, filled him in on some other details from our man in Vestavia. Anyhow, according to rich boy, he hired me a few weeks ago to check out a stalker he had been threatened by. Which is why I was supposed to be staking out the library when we were attacked. Scary part is, this brother moves fast. When I called my cousin from the station, the lawyers had already talked to him. He’s got records now of when we were ‘hired’.”
Crystal finished the story, “So then the rest of us were innocent bystanders at the library, but we have since apparently (according to Scorse) become friends or a support group or something. We were hanging out together trying to help Willie with this stalker case when we were driving over to 280 and we just stumbled onto this whole scene.”
Joe thought for a minute. “So the stalker lady, along with some bums, stole your guns, used them at McWane Center, and again at her apartment, and then used them last night. But we beat them anyway, and got your guns back… For a cover-up, it’s pretty good… better than Roswell at least.”
The group silently waited for the coffee to finish brewing.
Crystal frowned into her cup. “We should be able to get our guns back from impound in 24 hours. It would have been nice to keep those rifles though…. And now what about the library? How are we supposed to get into the attic?”
Brother answered by pulling keys and several licenses from his pocket. “I have the keys to the library. And these were in Taylor’s wallet, and I thought it might be best if they were not found.” The licenses were all fakes, identifying Taylor variously as a private investigator, police officer, and other similar identities.
Willie looked up from his cup. “Nice work, preacher. So, if y’all are plan on going back to the library regular, we might want to make it a habit to meet there every now an’ then. You know, keep in contact like once a week or something, if we figure out any more of this coin-collecting stuff.” The others nodded in agreement. They each had plans of returning to the library attic in the near future. “So, do you think Scorse knows about the library and everything?”
Crystal answered, “I don’t think so. I saw him making up the whole story. I think he is just so used to people around him doing things that they don’t want people to know about, that he just covers things up all the time. I kind of got the impression, like he was just trained for this, you know? Just like he was trained specifically for covering things up, maybe even driven unconsciously to always cover things up, and he doesn’t even know why. ”
. . .
The Birmingham Post-Herald newspaper covered the story that same afternoon. Page 2. “Scorse survives Stalker”. According the article, he was kidnapped from his residence and then rescued by “private security forces.” Everyone involved declined to comment. There were no pictures taken. The media never contacted any of the members of the “Class of 1924.”
. . .
The rewards arrived later that same day. Four identical checks, dropped off to each of the investigators, at home, by a delivery boy from South-Medical. Ten thousand dollars each. A note sent with Joe’s check stated that a similar check has been delivered to Taylor’s family.
Old Drew Id
First Post
Finally!
Episode One is complete and posted. I intend to take a bit of a break before beginning the first posts of Episode Two ("Tangled Web") so that I can actually get a bunch of work done. The good news, however, is that starting with Episode Two, we have tape transcripts of the sessions that I can use instead of just my notes and hazy memory. I will finally be able to include the great one-liners that we use in game instead of my poor attempts at paraphrasing.
And a serious special thanks to "pierceatwork" for the serious work he has put into transcribing those tapes for use in the story hour.
In the meantime, floor's open for questions, comments, etc. I know there are many questions from episode one left open, but like the X-Files, those will take time to answer. We are currently in the middle of Episode Five (and will be playing tonight) and many of those questions are still un-answered.
Thanks to everyone who has read this and posted encouragement. Please stay tuned for Episode Two of Medallions.
Episode One is complete and posted. I intend to take a bit of a break before beginning the first posts of Episode Two ("Tangled Web") so that I can actually get a bunch of work done. The good news, however, is that starting with Episode Two, we have tape transcripts of the sessions that I can use instead of just my notes and hazy memory. I will finally be able to include the great one-liners that we use in game instead of my poor attempts at paraphrasing.
And a serious special thanks to "pierceatwork" for the serious work he has put into transcribing those tapes for use in the story hour.
In the meantime, floor's open for questions, comments, etc. I know there are many questions from episode one left open, but like the X-Files, those will take time to answer. We are currently in the middle of Episode Five (and will be playing tonight) and many of those questions are still un-answered.
Thanks to everyone who has read this and posted encouragement. Please stay tuned for Episode Two of Medallions.
ledded
Herder of monkies
wow.
un...
fricken...
believable.
Just.... wow. Very, very good update, and nice wrap-up to the episode.
I actually got chill bumps a few times. And I was there when it happened. Bravo. I would say something clever and complimentary here, but I'm too stunned ;^).
And Taylor, Godspeed. You will be/have been missed.
Ledded, aka Willie Lamar
un...
fricken...
believable.
Just.... wow. Very, very good update, and nice wrap-up to the episode.
I actually got chill bumps a few times. And I was there when it happened. Bravo. I would say something clever and complimentary here, but I'm too stunned ;^).
And Taylor, Godspeed. You will be/have been missed.
Ledded, aka Willie Lamar