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<blockquote data-quote="jonrog1" data-source="post: 565937" data-attributes="member: 189">PULP SPYCRAFTCapt. Houston stared into the shiny, scrubbed-clean white brainpan of Dr. Litello.&nbsp; &quot;Now that's a helluva thing, he muttered ...... to no one.&nbsp; The girl had slipped away silently.Two blocks away,&nbsp; the &quot;girl&quot; -- Nadia -- stepped into a phone booth.&nbsp; She arched an eyebrow as police cars raced&nbsp; past her.&nbsp; She attached her miniature Tesla WorldWideWave Transmitting Box (tm) to the phone.&nbsp; In a moment she was in contact with her father, half a world away.&nbsp; &quot;Dr. Littello's dead ... well no, I didn't do it ... YES, I'm sure I didn't.&nbsp; There were some military types there, including someone I believe is a transgenic experiment ... no, on our side.&quot;When her father finished his instructions, Nadia did her best to talk him out of it, but it was no good.&nbsp; She hung up the phone, hiked her skirt up two inches and pulled her top button down three in anticipation of dealing with men, and headed back for the brownstone.Outside, Furio stood&nbsp; surrounded by police.&nbsp; He was holding a baseball bat.&nbsp; Neither Nadia nor Captain Texas realized it at the time, but while they were upstairs dealing with Littello, Furio had chased down one of the fleeing assassins and beaten him like a Jersey bookie.&nbsp; &quot;No, it's okay,&quot; he insisted, showing them the bloody bat.&nbsp; &quot;Louisville Slugger.&nbsp; American.&nbsp; Good guys.&quot;A car pulled up.&nbsp; From the backseat stepped a heavyset man in a tailored suit.&nbsp; He nodded to Nadia as she approached.&nbsp; &quot;Miss Tesla.&nbsp; I believe we've met.&nbsp; Jakob Kriegstein.&quot;&quot;My father asked me to assist you in this matter --&quot;&nbsp; Before Kriegstein could comment, she smiled.&nbsp; &quot;-- in what small way I could ever help Room 39.&quot;&nbsp; It was the smile.&nbsp; No one could ever resist the smile.Nadia and Kreigstein entered the brownstone, leaving Furio to explain how a proper follow-through made for a clean kneecap-smash. They stepped up around the carnage, entered Littello's bedroom.Houston was trying to search the premises, but his large, square Kirby-hands (DM's Note: That's how Ross described them.&nbsp; He is King Geek, all bow.) hampered him.&nbsp; He snapped a salute as Kriegstein entered.&nbsp; Kriegstein waved him off.&quot;You're in my office not three hours ago promising that you'll be no trouble,&quot; Kriegstein snapped, looking into Littello's skull, &quot;and here you are in the middle of a war zone.&quot;&quot;It's where I'm meant to be,&quot; Houston said.&quot;Yes, well I'd rather you went and found one rather than manufacture them in the center of London.&quot;&nbsp; A click from behind them interrupted the spat.&nbsp; Nadia had quietly, efficiently been searching the premises while they chatted.&nbsp; She showed them Littellos' journal.&quot;Most of this is his work --&quot;&quot;Classified,&quot; Kriegstein snapped.&quot;--&nbsp; somewhat haphazard filing system, annoyingly, until the end.&nbsp; Here he mentions how he'd lost track of several important colleagues.&nbsp; At first, he assumed they'd evacuated London because of the bombing, and they'd soon be in touch.&nbsp; But here&nbsp; --&quot; Nadia indicated a list on the back page. &quot;-- here he's made a full list, and it's rather distressing.&nbsp; Weapons, electronics, engineering geniuses ...&nbsp; but then here there's another list of artistic types gone missing ...&quot;&quot;What was the good doctor working on?&quot; Houston&nbsp; asked.&nbsp; He politely slid Littello's skull closed.Kriegstein looked uncomfortable answering, so Nadia jumped in.&nbsp; &quot;Electronic/brain interface.&nbsp;&nbsp; He was trying to work up the similarities between the brain and a computer.&quot;Houston nodded.&nbsp; After a long moment he asked. &quot;What the deuce is a computer?&quot;Nadia sighed.Houston then shoved one of the corpses with his boot.&nbsp; &quot;And who are these fellas?&quot;&quot;Steel Eagles,&quot; Kriegstein answered.&nbsp; &quot;A pseudo-Masonic order with close ties to the Aryan legend, supporters of the British/German brotherhood.&quot;&nbsp; Houston looked puzzled.&nbsp; &quot;There are many in both Britain and Germany who remember the historic relationships between the nations, and feel this conflict is pointless.&nbsp; They are sympathetic to the Nazis.&quot;&quot;Nazis,&quot; Houston growled.&nbsp; &quot;I hate those guys ...&quot;</blockquote>

[QUOTE="jonrog1, post: 565937, member: 189"] [b]PULP SPYCRAFT[/B] Capt. Houston stared into the shiny, scrubbed-clean white brainpan of Dr. Litello. "Now that's a helluva thing, he muttered ... ... to no one. The girl had slipped away silently. Two blocks away, the "girl" -- Nadia -- stepped into a phone booth. She arched an eyebrow as police cars raced past her. She attached her miniature Tesla WorldWideWave Transmitting Box [i](tm)[/i] to the phone. In a moment she was in contact with her father, half a world away. "Dr. Littello's dead ... well no, I didn't do it ... YES, I'm sure I didn't. There were some military types there, including someone I believe is a transgenic experiment ... no, on our side." When her father finished his instructions, Nadia did her best to talk him out of it, but it was no good. She hung up the phone, hiked her skirt up two inches and pulled her top button down three in anticipation of dealing with men, and headed back for the brownstone. Outside, Furio stood surrounded by police. He was holding a baseball bat. Neither Nadia nor Captain Texas realized it at the time, but while they were upstairs dealing with Littello, Furio had chased down one of the fleeing assassins and beaten him like a Jersey bookie. "No, it's okay," he insisted, showing them the bloody bat. "Louisville Slugger. American. Good guys." A car pulled up. From the backseat stepped a heavyset man in a tailored suit. He nodded to Nadia as she approached. "Miss Tesla. I believe we've met. Jakob Kriegstein." "My father asked me to assist you in this matter --" Before Kriegstein could comment, she smiled. "-- in what small way I could ever help Room 39." It was the smile. No one could ever resist the smile. Nadia and Kreigstein entered the brownstone, leaving Furio to explain how a proper follow-through made for a clean kneecap-smash. They stepped up around the carnage, entered Littello's bedroom. Houston was trying to search the premises, but his large, square Kirby-hands [i](DM's Note: That's how Ross described them. He is King Geek, all bow.)[/i] hampered him. He snapped a salute as Kriegstein entered. Kriegstein waved him off. "You're in my office not three hours ago promising that you'll be no trouble," Kriegstein snapped, looking into Littello's skull, "and here you are in the middle of a war zone." "It's where I'm meant to be," Houston said. "Yes, well I'd rather you went and found one rather than manufacture them in the center of London." A [i]click[/i] from behind them interrupted the spat. Nadia had quietly, efficiently been searching the premises while they chatted. She showed them Littellos' journal. "Most of this is his work --" "Classified," Kriegstein snapped. "-- somewhat haphazard filing system, annoyingly, until the end. Here he mentions how he'd lost track of several important colleagues. At first, he assumed they'd evacuated London because of the bombing, and they'd soon be in touch. But here --" Nadia indicated a list on the back page. "-- here he's made a full list, and it's rather distressing. Weapons, electronics, engineering geniuses ... but then here there's another list of artistic types gone missing ..." "What was the good doctor working on?" Houston asked. He politely slid Littello's skull closed. Kriegstein looked uncomfortable answering, so Nadia jumped in. "Electronic/brain interface. He was trying to work up the similarities between the brain and a computer." Houston nodded. After a long moment he asked. "What the deuce is a computer?" Nadia sighed. Houston then shoved one of the corpses with his boot. "And who are these fellas?" "Steel Eagles," Kriegstein answered. "A pseudo-Masonic order with close ties to the Aryan legend, supporters of the British/German brotherhood." Houston looked puzzled. "There are many in both Britain and Germany who remember the historic relationships between the nations, and feel this conflict is pointless. They are sympathetic to the Nazis." "Nazis," Houston growled. "I hate those guys ..." [/QUOTE]

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