groovygamers.com

This section will be where I put those scenes that don't directly involve the players, and they probably don't even see.  I hope to use it to explain some things that come up in the various game threads, to provide some clarity and give the world more of a complete feel.

It's possible that things that happen here can/will get back to the PCs in the form of a rumor or someone who did see it explaining it. 

He'd finished it and wanted a chance to test it out.  He didn't dare do it in the science lab, that would be too public and he'd hate to get Mr. Heep in trouble.

He set the sheet of plywood up against the wall and plugged the battery pack into the device.  He'd been playing with the ultraconics for a few weeks over the summer, but he couldn't finish it until he had access to the calibration scope in the lab.  Now that it was done, he'd finally get to see if it worked.

He lined the emmiter up with the plywood target and turned on the generator.  The high whine from the device was a good sign.  It seemed to be charging and everything looked good.  He put his safety goggles and hearing protection on and then hit the button.  The emmiter haed of the device began to spin and the target light illuminated a spot on the plywood near the center, about two feet off the floor.  The ready light came on and he pushed the discharge button.  The beam of orange light hit the plywood and in a second there was a hole right through it, and before he could shut it off there was a hole in the concrete wall of the storage closet, right into the hallway.

"Crap."  He said, shutting everything off and running out into the hall.  The hole went trhough teh cinder block wall of the storage closet and there was no way he was gonna be able to cover it up.  Luckily he had made sure that the school was deserted before conducting the test.  The only people around were the janitors, and they were likely on the roof having a smoke now.  He went back, got the tunneling device and headed back to the lab with it.  He'd leave it there in the back of the lab and take it home after the holiday weekend.  He was excited, it had worked even better then he dreamed.  He was also terrified, he'd damaged school property, and there was no way that two foot diameter hole in the storage closet wall was gonna go unnoticed.

A few minutes later, the tunneling ray safely back in the lab, he was out the side door and sitting at the Tasty Dog sipping a soda waiting for his mother to come get him.  'This is gonna be a great year' he thought to himself.

Boy 1:"Here it is."
Boy 2: "What is it?"
Boy 1: "Do I look like a science freak to you, just help me carry it."  They lift the device from the table and proceed to carry it out and down the hall.
Boy 2: "What's it do?"
Boy 1: "It earns us fifty bucks to hide it in the gym dumbass."

Several minutes later the pair manage to carry the device out the back door and across to the gym without being detected.  They get it inside and into the small storage closet they were told to put it in.

In the parking lot they meet the guy that they agreed to move it for.
Boy 1: "All taken care of, just like you asked"
Boy 2 (handing a padlock key to the person that paid them): "There you go, now, can we get paid?"
Voice: "Sure, just one thing first."  He takes something out of his pocket, a cell phone perhaps and there is a flash of light.

Boy 2:"So what're we sitting in the school parking lot at ten o'clock at night for?"
Boy 1:"I don't remember.  We must have been so totally fucked up."
Both boys laugh.
Boy 2:"I don't even remember getting high dude."
Both boys laugh again.
Boy 1: "Man, we gotta do something to get some cash so we can score again."
Boy 2:"Yeah, I hear ya."

The girls were in their secret place, 'Sparrow' was the last to arrive.  Once she had closed the door and joined the circle they could begin.

OPAL: "Is everything ready?"
SPARROW: "I have found my vessel, now all I need to do is gather my materials and I can do the imbuing."
OPAL: "Good."  Opal smiles, Sparrow is coming along nicely.
RUBY: "You still need to complete your glamour and test it."
SPARROW: "I'll be doing that this afternoon."
SAPPHIRE: "I saw ripples in the last divining.  Someone else is practicing magic.  There has only been one spell, but it is persistant and dark."

The girls share a look of concern, then turn toward Opal.

OPAL: "It could be nothing.  If you feel anything else sister, tell me immediately."

Sapphire nods.

OPAL: "Sparrow, I'll accompany you when you go to test your skills with the glamour, we have things to discuss."
SPARROW (smiling brightly): "I am most honored high presitess."
MOONLIGHT: "I would like to invite you all to my home Saturday night.  I need some help bending my mother to my will, your strength would be most appreciated."
The other girls nod and make plans to help their sister......

Driver: "Hey, I need some money for gas."
Passenger: "Don't look at me, I'm tapped."
Driver: "Guess we're gonna need to shake some change out of a few Freshman tomorrow."
Passenger: "Heh, like that chump that got away this afternoon.  who the hell was that in the can anyway?"
Driver: "I've seen him around, not sure who he is."
Passenger (Opening a butterfly knife): "Next time, I think I'll open his sorry ass up and find out."

Both boys laugh, then the driver sees something in the road and before he can react they smash into it.  The sound of crunching metal and shattering glass can be heard for blocks, but this time of night there is no one around to hear it.  No one but the man they hit.  He stands about halfway between the front of the car and the windshield.  Metal crumpled around him, the engine pushed up against his waist and pushed back into the passenger compartment.  He wears all black.  His trenchcoat and wide brimmed hat conceal any details about him.

He steps back slowly out of the 'U' shaped impression his body made in the front of the car.  Moving around to the driver's side he looks in the open window.  "You should remember to buckle up."  With that the man stands, and floats into the air.  A few moments later he's vanished from sight.

Deputy Chief Thomas Stilly arrives at the scene after being called by the shift supervisor.  Stilly was the Deputy Cheif responsible for Major Crimes in Oak Park, and he wasn't sure why he was being called to the scene of an auto accicdent in the middel of the night.

STILLY: "What have you got?"
PATROLMAN: "You need to look at this sir."  The young man says, pointing to the car behind him.

Stilly goes around the officer and stops when he sees the front of the car.  "What in the name...."
PATROLMAN: "That's why we called you sir.  We found the car, with two male occupants sitting in the northbound lane.  There was no evidence of a skid, and no sign of what they hit."
STILLY (looking at the patrolman): "Call Chicago PCD, have them send someone out here to look at this.  As soon as forensics is finished, get this thing to the garage."  Stepping around to look in the window of the car he sees the blood and broken glass.  "You said there were two occupants, what's their status?"  He wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he had to ask.
PATROLMAN: "Both are critical but stable, they were taken to Gottlieb Memorial."
STILLY: "I want someone there to take their statements as soon as possible."  The patrolman nods and makes a note.  "Who were the victims?"
PATROLMAN: "Couple of Seniors from Oak Park High."
STILLY (At hearing that he blanched.  Stilly had a daughter that was a Senior at Oak Park, and a nephew that was a freshman.  Things like this hit close to home, but he's no stranger to them.  When his other two kids were in high school he worried that every traffic accident might involve them.)  "Parents have been notified?"
PATROLMAN: "Yes sir, duty commander is taking care of that now. Sir, PCD?"
STILLY (Breathed a sigh of releif.  He could have other people do that now, it was a job he didn't have to undertake very often): "Yeah, this looks like something I saw in a seminar they gave last year. "  Stilly stood up to look at the patrolman, "This reminds me of a photo they showed of what a car looks like after it blows into a paranormal, one of the really tough ones."
PATROLMAN: "Oh." the patrolman looks at the car again, moving to the front in line with the dent.  "OH!"
STILLY: "Yeah, OH!"

He lay in his tub, looking up at the ceiling and contemplating his plan.  He'd spent a week playing the good test subject, letting them think he was content to wait for them to find a way to transform him back into a man.  they took "samples" and asked him how he felt.  He joked with them like he was doing okay, and he felt the time was right to make his move.

The second he put his plan into action he had to be ready to abandon his real goal in a second if getting there would jepordize his escape.  He thought about just trying to escape, but he felt a nagging desire to hurt the man that had done this to him and that nagging grew with each day.

Slowly he got out of his tub, and walked over to the small table where his breakfast sat.  Five bottles of water.  He wasn't sure he could do the hard part of his plan, but he knew he could do the easy part, and so he did.

Turning towards the camera he reached out a hand and projected part of his watery form towards it, showering it and shorting it out.  He only had a few seconds, so he stood against the wall and concentrated hard.  This had to work.

*****
Security went on full alert the second he shorted out his camera.  They sent down a team to neutralize him, and they made ready to open the door.

OP1: "Thermal is showing no signature sir."
CO: "Open it, weapons ready."
The men ready their weapons and one of them slides a key card through the slot and opens the door.  There is a moment of tension, but nothing happens.  The CO waves one man in, then a second.  They move into the room and do a quick check, looking under the table and in the tub.  They look back to the CO and shake their heads indicating they have nothing.
CO (into radio): "Subject appears to have escaped containment, alert all units and begin a full sweep of the building."
RADIO: "Team One, we have civillians in the building, we need to evacuate them before you can conduct an overt sweep, over."
CO: "Affirmative, plain cloths only then at this time and hustle it up with getting those civillians out."
RADIO: "Affirmative."
CO (To men): "Look around in the lower levels, he has to be somewhere.  Maybe we can get him contained without an incident."

The men begin to fan out in their designated teams and the CO starts back towards the elevator, unaware that a cloud of water vaopr has already slipped from the room and is making it's way up the elevator shaft.

Sammy Jameson trailed along behind her older sister Stephanie and Stephanie's friends as they all walked home from the bus stop.  The older girls were excitedly talking about a freshman cheerleader who had been attacked earlier today during a field trip. 

Remembering that Sammy was there, and that she was a freshman, they asked if she knew the girl.  She didn't, and was dismissed from their notice as quickly as she had been brought into it. Tonight was going to be a busy night.  She would be home long enough to dump her junk, grab some dinner, and get back to school in time to assemble for the football game. 

Eyes half closed, she mentally reviewed the routines the band would be performing tonight, and was shaken from her reverie by a small gust of wind which threatened to snatch off her hat. 

She and Stephanie were home, and there was a strange car in the driveway. 

Stephanie said "Probably one of Mom's customers come to pick up orders." 

They entered the house through the kitchen door. 

"We're ho-ome!"

Mrs. Jameson called to them from the family room.  "Girls!  Come say hello to Aunt Rosie!  She's in town on business and came by to see us."   

Stephanie rolled her eyes and pasted on a smile.  "If she tells me how much I've grown I think I'll shoot myself!"  Sammy just grinned and followed. 

Sammy rather liked Mom's friend "Aunt" Rosie.  She always had fun things to talk about, and always seemed to be genuinely interested in what Sammy was doing.

Kim Jameson sat in one of a pair of armchairs flanking the fireplace, and Aunt Rosie sat in the other.  She stood up to greet the girls.  She hugged Stephanie first.  "Stephanie!  How much you've grown!"  Stephanie hugged her back, then pressed an index finger to her forehead and pulled the trigger as Rosie turned towards Sammy.  "Sammy!  Your mom reminded me, you're a freshman in high school now!  How exciting!  Are you still playing the trombone?" 

Sammy grinned and launched into detailed descriptions of her new classes, the freshman concert band, and the marching band.  "We're playing at the football game tonight -- do you want to come?  Mom has to take me and Steph anyhow, so you could come with us and sit with her and Dad.  Please?  It'll be fun, and Dad promised milkshakes after."  

Rosie nodded, and with a speaking glance at Kim she said,  "I can do that. It'll give all of us a chance to talk later, to catch up."   

Mrs. Jameson urged Sammy and Stephanie to go take care of business, no dawdling, they could talk to Aunt Rosie later, after the game.  The girls hurried upstairs. 

Aunt Rosie looked again at Kim.  "Well?  Have you told her anything yet?"  

Kim shook her head.  "No.  It never seems to be the right time... and nothing has happened yet.  Maybe it won't?"  

"Kim... the tests don't lie.  Don't you think she deserves to know, so that whatever happens, it won't be a complete surprise?"

Kim covers her face with her hands.  "You're right.  I don't want you to be right, but you're right.  But nobody knows.  Not even Steve.  How do I explain to him that I've been hiding this from him, never mind the girls?"

"That's the risk you decided to take when you got involved with him in the first place.  I warned you then, but you wanted normal.  You wanted a husband, a family, a home... and you have it.  But this other thing can't be ignored, not anymore.  You have to tell them.  Soon.  What if something happens, and she becomes frightened?  How would you feel then?"  

She had been serving drinks all night.  Her feet hurt and she was exhausted.  She needed the hours, but she hated working doubles on Saturday, because it seemed like she had to deal with every creep in the city.

She stepped off the El and was making her way towards the stairs when the two men stepped out of the darkness.  She recognized them from the club, they had been touchers.  She'd been polite, but they had obviously not gotten the message.

MAN1: "Hey sweetheart, how about that dance now?"
MAN2: "Yeah, you're not working now."
WOMAN: "Sorry guys, my feet are killing me.  Maybe a rain check."

The two men share a look and a smile and begin to move towards her.

MAN1: "Well, maybe you should lay down then."

She knew she had no place to go that they couldn't catch her.

WOMAN: "HELP, ANYBODY, HELP."

The men close the distance in a run and while one puts a hand over her mouth and an arm around her to hold her, the other grabs her blouse, unceremoniously ripping it open.

MAN1: "Shuttup bitch and you wont get hurt."

The figure decends from the night sky, touching down with a tremendous clang on the platform.  As he stands the two men glance back.  The figure is tall, but shrouded in darkness.  He wears a black trench coat pulled tight around him and a wide brimmed black hat, obscuring his face.

MAN1 (Drawing his gun): "Take off freak, go play hero somewhere else."

The dark figure begins to walk forward, "I'm not playing, and I'm not a hero."

The gunmen lets loose with his pistol.  Round after round hitting the dark man and staggering him backward another step with each shot until the gun is empty.  The dark man stops, and straightens.  There is a slurping sound, and then the slugs from the wounds begin to fall to the platform like metalic rain drops, one after another, deformed from hitting the dark man.

In a blur of motion the dark man is upon the gunmen, turning his hand with the gun up and away from the body until the bones snap and dislocate.  His scream is brief, as the dark man begins to slam him into the wall.  Repeatedly.

The other man runs, he's not interested in anything but escape and he pours his heart into running from the scene.

The dark man turns, extending an arm out after the runner.  He reaches him, then let's his dark arm snap back, turning the man so he can look into his face.  "I thought you wanted to dance.  Perhaps, a waltz."  The dark man drops the broken form of the gunman to the ground, then holding the other man begins to spin and twirl with him, humming a waltz tune.  The terrified man struggles, but he can't hope to break the hold of the dark man.  Together they dance onto the tracks, into the path of the oncoming train.

MAN2: "NOOOOOOOOO, I PROMISE I WONT EVER DO ANYTHING BAD EVER AGAIN.  PLEEEAAASSEEEE."

DARKMAN: "I know."  The train strikes them and the woman is showered with a fine mist of blood, and she screams.

The two boys set up the device following the instructions they were given.  The third boy was lookout, keeping an eye peeled for the plice or any other witnesses.

BOY1: "Ready"
BOY2 (lookint at instructions and working controls on the device): "Ok.  And, bingo."  He presses the last button and a beam of light illuminates the wall, then the device emmits a screaching sound and shuts off, a hole in the wall where it's light had been shed.
BOY1: "DAAAAMMMMNNNNN, that rocked."
BOY2 (to Boy3): "Go!"

Boy3 races through the hole and into the warehouse while Boy1 and Boy2 load the device into the trunk of their car.  Two minutes later, right on time, Boy3 emerges carrying a large box.  The three boys wrestle it into the car and then drive off.

Half an hour later they're in the parking lot of Oak Park High School, talking to the man that sent them on the job.

BOY1: "Went just like you said it would, smooth."
BOY2: "Ray gun thing is back where we got it from, all ,locked up."
Boy1: "That's everything you asked for."
BOY2: "Now, there is the matter of payment."
BOSS (To Boy3): "Get that thing home and get it figured out.  We'll talk tomorrow."

Boy3 takes the box and transfers it to his car, then drives off.  The Boss hands an envelope to the two other boys, taking his cell phone from his pocket.  He flips the phone open, and presses a button, the other two boys go glassy-eyed and quiet.

BOSS: "You earned that money selling drugs here at school for a man named Emille Vandross.  This was your cut from the last deal you made with him.  You never call hm, he always calls you.  You'll forget about the trip to the evidence warehouse, and forget you know me or the other boy that went with you.  You'll both go home and go to sleep and the only thing you'll remember about Sunday was getting paid and getting high afterwards.  You'll wait here for five minutes after I leave, and you wont remember this conversation."  With that the boss leaves the parking lot.

"Police are still not forthcoming with any of the details concerning a break in at the Metro Division's evidence storage wharehouse.  The theft took place in the early morning hours of Sunday.  Although details are sketchy inside sources told Eyewitness News that the theft appears to have been a professional job and the area of the warehouse where the robbery took place is used to store evidence from cases involving paranormals.  Authorities have not released any details on how the crime was committed or what might have been taken."

A car skids out of control and heads towards a bus stop where three people wait for their bus after a long day on the night shift.  Suddednly, out of no where a man in red wearing a cape woops out of the sky and stops the car, bringing it gently to a stop only a few feet from the bus stop.  He launches himself back into the air giving the people he just saved a wave as they yell their thanks up after him.

*****

A woman runs afoul of a mugger, and makes a break for it.  she rounds a corner, bumping in to a man in red with a cape.  He moves her behind him and waits for the mugger to round the corner.  As he does the hero stabs a hand forward, palm down and pokes the mugger in the solarplexus with the tips of his fingers, knocking him several feet back and winding him.  He grabs the mugger up and gives him a smile, "Maybe you should call it a night?"  he asks the man, whoi is having trouble catching his breath, but otherwise unharmed.  "Go home, get some rest, in the morning buy a paper and look for a job.  If I catch you out here again, mugging people, I'll have to take you to the police."  Gently he sets the man down, "Go on, get going."  The man takes off and the capped hero takes to the sky again.

*****

Firefighters have responded to an apartment blaze.  Three engine companies fight a loosing battle against their old adversary, fire.  As two firefighters bring the last victim out a woman runs up to the victim, "Oh god Carolyn, where's Bobby?"  The victim can only cough and point up tnto the flaming building.  The distraught mother makes a break for the door, but the firemen grab her, "No, my baby is up there."

An explosion on the third floor sends a shower of debris and hot sparks falling to the street, the woman's scream dwarfs the roar of the fire.  It's a sound of a heart breaking.  A second crash and firy shower liters the street with debris, and the red capped hero lands on one knee, denting the pavement.  He stands up, a baby clutched in his arms.  The child's healthy crying testemony to it's condition.  His warm smile broadens his face and he walks towards the woman, handing her the child.  He watches her clutch the baby and tears begin to flow from her eyes and emotion chokes out her voice.  Several fireman near the woman touch the heros shoulder, silent recognition of his act.  "Tha..."  she can't speak, and he puts a hand on her shoulder.

"Seeing you with your baby is thanks enough."  With that he rises into the sky and disappears into the night.

The boys had chosen a fourth floor room that would be empty, and far away from any occupied classroom.  Privacy in these things was important.  They had grabbed the kid they were looking for on his way to lunch.  Freshman always had first lunch, so some of the boys had to skip class to be here, but it was important.

SHAMROCK: "You know why you're here right?"
VICTIM: "I don't have the money, but I can get it.  I just need a little more time."
SHAMROCK: "Right, We're only in the second full wek of school and you're already behind.  So, we're gonna make an example out of you.  Think of it as an advertising campaign, and you're gonna be out poster child.

The clouds of smoke and the flash of light were all the distraction required.  One second it was the boys in the gang and their victim, and the next second there were six ninja in the room with them.  Shamrock and his boys looked around the room at the six kids with t-shirts wrapped around their heads and laughed.  "What the hell is this?"  Shamrock asked, "You guys looking for work, cause I could always use some real ninja, I mean, who couldn't use ninja, right boys?"  The others laughed.  "Maury, Wee-Bey, f&@# these clowns up."  With Shamrock's order his two big hitters began to move.

It wasn't so much a fight as it was two guys getting hit about thirty times by a flurry of teenaged ninja.  Maury and Wee-Bey lay on the floor curled up in balls moaning, and the ninja had shifted to new positions.

"You think this shit is funny?"  Shamrock moves, and so do the rest of his boys.  One of the ninja heads towads the boy that was to be their victim, slipping past Shamrock and grabbing the kid, headed for the door.  "Horseface, get them."  Shamrock says, pointing to the ninja and their intended victim.

Poot picked a ninja and smiled, pulling his expandable baton from under his shirt.  With a snap the device was deployed and he was moving in on his target.  The ninja pulled a pair of drumsticks from his back pocket, and took one in each hand.  The two clashed and their weapons banged against each other in a flurry of blows, each aiming for a soft spot on the other and hurrying to block the other's blows.  Weapons, elbows, knees they were a constant blur of strikes and blocks, rolling over and dodgin around desks in a struggle for position.  Each boy landed his share of blows, but the advantage lay with the ninja and his second weapon which snuck in and dealt Poot a number of painful blows, finally striking the wrist that held his baton, sending it clattering to the floor.  It was over a second later as the ninja rained blows down on Poot and his various nerve clusters, leaving him a twitching wreck on the floor.

Cutty slid his butterfly knife out of his pocket and opened it in a stylish flip, brandishing it with a grin,  "Let's see what you got ninja-boy."  His opponent looke around and took a half step to the right, snatching a yard stick from near the dry erase board at the fron tof the room.  He flipped it in his hand like a sword and then took a stance.  Cutty just laughed, "That's cute."  It was all he had time to say as the ninja flew into him like a tornado.  The yardstick couldn't cut the other boy but it could leave bruises and when it struck nerve centers the pain it sent shooting through Cutty was crippling.

Horseface was through the door only a couple of seconds after the ninja and the kid Shamrock ahd told them to snatch.  He started to run down the hall after them.  At the intersection the ninja sent the kid off on his own, and turned back towards Horseface.  With a flick of the wrist he sent a cluster of tiny objects clattering down onto the floor.  Horseface didn't have time to react before he hit the BB's and his feet went out from under him.  When he hit the floor it was hard, and there were pointy things in the mix that hurt like hell.  When he sat up the ninja was gone.  He looked around and picked up one of the little pyrmid pieces of oplastic he'd landed on.  They had numbers on them and looked like dice of some kind.  He also noticed that the BBs weren't rolling.  they seemed to have something sticky on them that kept them from rolling too easily.  The shadow made him look up, there was the boy they were after, and the Vice-Principal.  "Mr. Pakusa, you have some explaining to do."

Shamrock saw what was happening.  Horseface had already chased the other two out the door and down the hall, and he decided that out the door was as good a place as any to be.  He bolted for the door, but the ninja had other ideas.  One leaped to the top of a desk for height and let fly with a string of old style floppy disks like they were shuriekn.  The disks flew through the air landing between the door jam and the door on the hinge side, effectively jamming the door closed.  Shamrock pulled and pulled, he could see the disks n the door jam and hear them crunching, but couldn't pull the door open far enough to get through.  That's when the other ninja descended on him.  there were a few blows and then Shamrock was thrown to the ground, on his face.  His arm was still behind him in a painful pin.  One of the ninja knelt down, whispering in his ear.  "No more."  Then his arm was free and he jumped up looking around.

He saw the door open and Horseface come in.  "You get that little punk like I told you?'  Shamrock asked, then he saw the Vice-Principal and a pair of cops.

"No, he didn't Mr. McGinty.  All of you, to the office, now."

The dishwasher from the Tasy Dog had been arrested based on an anonymous tip.  He had been in possession of illegal drugs, sufficient quantities to warrant a charge of possession with intend to sell.  He'd been booked and stuck in holding.  Oak Park had decided to wait to question him until the next morning, to give him some time to consider his options.

As he lay in his cell a dark figure entered his field of vision.  "Get up, you're eaving."  his voice said, almost a whisper.

"Who the f&$@ are you?"  the dishwasher asks, crushing himself against the wall as far from the trenchcoat and hat wearing figure.

"Vandross sent me."  Is all it says as it pulls the door of the cell, bending the steel and swinging the now open door aside.  "We need to get to the roof, your ride is up there."

The dishwasher grabbed his jacket and followed the dark figure down the hall to a stairwell and upwards.

"I knew he would get me out, but I never expected any s#^* like this."  The dishwasher is pleased to be out of his cell, but they still have to get away.

He follows the dark figure to the roof.  Once there they move around to one side, down some steps and over to the window washing scaffold.

"Your ride down."  The dark figure says, pointing at the scaffold.

The dishwaser climbs over the rail and onto the scaffold, followed by the dark figure.  The man in black grabs the controls and begins to send the scaffold down.

"This Sh#$ rocks."   The dishwasher says, looking down the outside of the building.

About three floors down the scaffold stops.

"Someone should do something about people like you."  the dark man says, floating up off the scaffold towards the roof.

"Hey, what the Fu@&!"  the diswasher screams.  "Vandross didn't send you, who the hell are you?"

The dark man reaches the roof and touches down.  "Nobody."  He whispers, grabbing the cables for the scaffold in his hands.  They begin to smoke and suddenly snap.  The scaffold lurches once, then begins to fall.  The diswasher screams, but the dark man is already in the air and flying away.

The scaffold and the dishwasher crash onto the ground in a shower of blood and debris.

Alexandra had worked her way through almost everyone she knew and a few people she didn't in the Arcane studies departments of every major university in the US.  She was trying to find someone with a specialization in Aberiginal Magic.  She thought it would have been easy, but apparently they were more scarce then she had believed.

Johnathan, her last husband, had in his own words "walked away from all that magic bullshit".  She had never brought it up after that, and she had also never bothered to mentione that along with her major in history, she had a minor in Arcane studies with a focus on North American magical traditions.  The problem was, she understood the subject but that was a far cry from knowing anything about it.

"Yes, Samuel Two-Bears, hello.  My name is Alexandra Crow and I'm calling to see if you can help me.  Uh, I've recently met someone who is apparently having visions and may possibly be channeling healing spirits, and I was hoping you could give me some clue as to who I might talk to to find out how this person can control these gifts."

"Male or female?"  his tone was matter of fact and Alex didn't think he beleived her at this point.

"Male, young man.  Actually not even 16 yet."

"Then you must be mistaken.  Perhaps you just have a genetic mutation that appears to be manifesting in a way that the untrained eye thinks is native magic.  Have the boy tested, good day."   The line went dead and Alex hung her head.  Another dead end.

The chime of her email clinet drew her attention.  An old friend from college had come through with a name and number.  It wasn't someone she recognized from the various trade papers, but she trusted the sender.

The phone rang twice, "Six-Killer."   The response was sharp and clear.

"Yes, I got your name and number from Sealy Reynolds, she told me you were someone I could talk to about Native American magical traditions."

"Well, that depends on what you need."

Alex was starting to feel this was going to be another dead end.  "I beleive I know someone who might be channeling healing spirits and is having visions.  They expressed a desire to learn some control and I told them I'd make some calls to see what I could find out."

"Well, I don't actually think he's channeling healing spirits.  His visions aren't actually visions either."

"What?"  Alex was getting tired of people telling her she was wrong.  "So you think I should have him tested for mutant gene sequences and skip the Native Magic stuff alltogehter."

"Well, you could, but I think you'd be better served by asking how I knew it was a he and not a she."

Alex held the handset of the phone away from her head to look at it.  She realized how ridiculous the action was, but it was already done.  "Mr. Six-Killer, how did you know it was a he and not a she?"

The knock on Alex's office door starteled her.  "Hold on one moment."  She put the call on hold and went to the door.  The man in the hall was obviously not a student, he wore a plain blue t-shirt with a flannel shirt over that.  His jeans had a worn look and his cowboy boots had signs of serious wear.  Hie skin was a deep tan and his black hair was long, held behind his head in a simple pony tail.  The beat up straw hat on his head was sweat stained and crumpled from years of wear.  He closed a cell phone that he had been speaking on and slipped it into his pocket.

"The same way I knew to come here."  Alex leapt back from the door with a shock.  The voice was unmistakable, it was the man she had been speaking to on the phone.  She glanced at the phone, and the call light was off.

"Who are you?"   Alex's tone was slightly paniced, and she hadn't liked the sound of it.

"Bobby Six-Killer, maybe you remember me, we spoke on the phone."

His attempt at humor only made Alex more nervous.  He had an aire about him that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.  "No, I mean, no, how did you know.  WAIT!"   Her loud proclimation gave her a moment to focus.  "Let me ask a better question, how do you know what you know?"

Bobby smiled and leaned against the door.  "The answer to that is as unbeleiveable as the whole phone call thing.  Your last name is Crow, and you wont understnd this now but someone is having a bit of fun at your expense.  But, I am here to help your son.  So, here's what I want you to do.  Call the Chicago Police and talk to a Detective Kevin Kiernan, he's with their Paranormal Crimes Division.  You ask him about me and he'll vouch for me.  After you've done that and have your bearings you can call me at that Cell number, and we can chat.  Deal?"

His offer made Alex feel a lot more comfortable with the implications of his being here.  she nodded, "I'll do that Mr. Six-Killer."

"Please, call me Bobby.  I'll look forward to your call."   With that he turned and walked off down the hall.

Alex closed the door to her office and sat on the couch.  Now she thinks she understood why John had turned his back on the magic of his people.  It caused heart attacks.

Nathaniel Coxson, or Nat as he was most commonly known, was an entrapanuer.  In his Junior year at Oak Park, Nat had a reputation as someone you could go to to get things that usually required an adult, like porn mags and beer.  He made a tidy sum selling his wares to the under classmen and even had a few seniors as customers.

Friday nights were good business for him usually, and this was no exception.  The school was cracking down on fighting and worrying about drugs, but Nat had a mind for business and had always managed to stay one step ahead.

The kid that sat in the booth with him didn't look familiar, but familiarity was not always required to take someones money.

"What can I do you you?"  Nat was considered a charming boy, and almost every teacher knew himand liked him.

"I have access to some product that I thought you might be able to move for me.  You have a pre-existing customer base, and I'd hate to try to compete with you.  I'm willing to act as a supplier, if you'd agree to move the product for me."

"What kind of product are we talking about?"

The other boy slides an envelope across the table.  Nat opens it and his eyes go wide.  He flips through the contents, and a smile crosses his face.  "Very nice.  do you do custom work?"

"It can be arranged.  I'll leave you to set a price scale, all I ask is a fifty-fifty split."

Nat looked at what he had in his hands.  He knew he could move this, the only problem might be supply.  "What about supply, can you get more of these?"

"Without a doubt.  Custom work too if you think there is a market."

"Dude, the world is full of freaks, and they pay in cash.  Let me move these to see what the market will bear.  I'll give you fifty bucks for these, regardless of what I make.  Call it a gesture of good faith.  Then fifty-fifty, deal?"

The other boy extends his hand and a partnership is born.

The girls have gathered in their secret place.  Sitting in a circle, they join hands and say the prayer they use to begin each gathering.

SPARROW: "The spell on the vessel was broken."

OPAL: "It was not your fault sister, I don't think any of us hold that failure against you."  Opal looks a tthe others, and they all nod in agreement.

SAPPHIRE: "My last divining I saw a blackbird.  There are other powers at work here."

OPAL: "I felt the aura of magic from the boy Rory when he transformed.  The dark spell you spoke of sister Sapphire.  Could it be the blackbird?"

SAPPHIRE (Sapphire looks at her hands, shaking her head.):"No, I fear it's another.  There have been no other spells though."

RUBY: "Someone dabbling?"

OPAL: "Perhaps.  Most dangerous.  How do you feel the blackbird is aligned sister Sapphire?"

SAPPHIRE: "East, towards the rising sun."

OPAL: "A new power among us.  Perhaps we can find it and harness it for ourselves?"

The girls smile and shake their heads.

Sarah had decided to skip lunch with the gang.  Her math teacher had offered to help her figure out the work, and she needed the help.  She munched on her sandwich and went over the equations with him until she felt she was starting to understand them. 

Near the end of the period she started to feel sick, and by the time the bell rang she wanted to throw up.  The school nurse confirmed she had a temprature and sent her home.  Her mom picked her up and put her to bed.  It looked like the flu.  Sarah told her mom to tell Dave so he could let everyone know, and her mother promised to do it before Sarah drifted off to sleep.

Nathaniel Coxson opened his locker and found a cell phone.  Most people might be disturbed by this, but Nat was a businessman and never turned away from a possible opportunity.  The fact that the phone rang almost immediately did shake him a little.

"How can I help you?"  It was a resonable question, someone put the phone here and was likely calling it now.  They needed something from Nat and couldn't or wouldn't see him face to face.

"I've become aware of merchandise that you can supply, I need to know if I can get custom work done."   The voice was electronically distorted, and that meant someone with a real desire to keep themselves distanced from the deal.

"Yes.  If you know the rates the cost is triple for custom, and for a substantial fee I might even be able to arrange more intimate settings if you follow me."

"I do, and I might.  Top of the locker, on the near corner is an envelope."  Nat went over and pulled the envelope off the top of the locker.  "Inside is your fee and the name.  How long before I can expect delivery?"

Nat looked at the name and shook his head.  "I need to talk to my supplier, end of the week acceptable?"

"Very.  When you have them you're to put them in the air vent over the last stall in the third floor mens room.  Text message this phone with 'Ready for Pickup'.  Any questions?"

"None.  If I experience any delays I'll text you to let you know."

"Acceptable."  the line clicked off and Nat put the phone in his locker and closed it up.  He needed to see his supplier and get the ball rolling.

Kevin looked at his phone and slapped his forehead, 'you don't have her number genius.' He thought to himself after hanging up with the teenage super hero Velocity.  He'd given her his cop answer, 'I'll be in touch.' and then realized that he couldn't.

Kevin didn't bother to knock on Stan's door, he just went inside.  Stan Juzskowski had been on the Chicago PD for so long they eventually had to demand he leave.  Stan was paranormal, but in a very subtle way that had never caused any trouble for him on the force.  He'd had two sons, one was Joe Justice the super hero and the other was Peter Juzskowski, police officer.  The public service gene was deep in the Juzskowski family and the youngest, CJ, was a super hero for Eagle Force.  Stan had been Rabbi to so many cops it wasn't funny, and Kevin and he had been friends since Kevin was a little kid and his father had been Stan's partner.

"In here Kev."  Stan called from the kitchen.  Pie.  Pie was the one thing Stanley had always been able to cook really well.  He'd gotten better over the years, and people that had known him would come from all over the country to visit and eat pie.  "Coffee?"   Stan asked, pouring a cup and handiong it to Kevin.  "How's Chris working out?"

"Good.  Once he gets over the initial shock of all the crazy shit this town hides he'll do better."

"He called the other day, asking about someone to teach that young friend of his some sefl-defense."

"Might as well call him his son."  Kevin said, getting some Apple pie.

"He ask the mother to marry him then?"

"Nope.  He says it's complicated."  Stan and Kevin chuckle.  They were familiar with their own versions of love and complication.

"He certainly seems to be worried about the boy."   Stan braings the coffee to the table and gets himself some pie.  "Think he's in any danger?"

"Chris pretends he's not terrified for the kid, but I know he worries more about what might happen to him then he lets on.  As for in danger.  I feel sorry for whatever fool decides that kid is an easy mark.  Something tells me that the hurricane of whuppass that would befall someone that did him harm would be monumental."

"So, how did the postcognitive session go?"

Kevin nods, a bite of pie in his mouth, "Colin found some leads, and I jsut got off the phone with Velocity, she tracked one down.  We've got direction now, and that's something."

"Good.  Anything on your mysterious crime boss?"   Stan was referring to the elusive and seemingly non-existant Emille Vandross.

"Nothing.  Every eyewitness account, every paper trail, everything says this guy is fake."

"Maybe he is.  Maybe he's just a name to connect some things that other people are doing.  Sort of a scape-goat that's not real."

"Well, for an imaginary criminal he's got his finger in a lot of pies."

"The crimes are real, which means the criminals are too.  Maybe he's a phantom created as part of a conspiracy.  Maybe the crimes are all seperate.  Each element connected only as part of the illusion."

"Yeah.  Problem is, I don't have any way to tell reality from illusion."

"Well, you just have to look close.  Find the mistakes."

Jane Spofford is getting ready to leave for the day.  She goes to her locker to put her books away and go home.  There, in her locker was a cell phone.  She looked around for a moment, and then was startled when it rang.  It rang several times before she picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Jane."  The voice was distorted, "I'm aware of the problem you and the other girls in the coven ran into at the Janush party.  I know that everyone thinks Sarah is running the show, but I also know that you were who got them their powers in the first place.  That's why I'm dealing with you."

"What's this about, if it's a joke.."

"Jane, listen to me.  I'm going to help you to get rid of the competition.  Their being here may get in the way of some of my plans, and I can't have that.  We'll be helping each other.  Interested?"

"What do you want from us in return?"

"If you get rid of the Usual Suspects, that will be sufficient."

Jane's expression hardened at the thought of what those punks had done to her and the others.  "Deal."

"Excellent.  For this plan to work you will have to follow my instructions, but they will be complex and indirect, otherwise the boy who sees the unseen might be able to stop us."

"I understand.  If you can help us break this binding, then we'll follow instructions no matter how complicated."

"Alright then.  On top of your locker is an envelope.  It contains your part of the plan.  It also contains the locations of the other parts of the plan and which girl should execute it.  It's important that none of you tell the others any part of the plan.  When each part is executed you'll see it coming together.  Okay?"

"Who are you?, how do I know I can trust you?"

"Jane, trust is a luxury we don't have.  All we have is mutual benefit."  Then the phone clicks off.

Jane gets the envelope and opens it.  The first line of the page makes her worry, Alexandra Medford is going to have to die.  She stares at it for a moment and then realizes, power divided six ways is better then power divided seven.

Jane realizes the phone is getting hot.  She tosses it in the trash and it begins to melt down, and a moment later it's nothing but a hunk of slag.

Pot Luck.  Smith wondered why someone had thought that putting those two wrods together might make the event any less bizarre than it was.  If he were not a student of human nature and interaction he wasn't sure he could keep from trying to kill himself with a fondue fork.  At least then the guest would have something really memorable to discuss.

He's not sure why he was actually standing there, let alone dressed in a suit, clean shaven and without a gun.  It felt like some kind of farsical stage production, with him cast as the alien trying to hide from the hunters in the midst of civilized culture.  In this case the hunters were all female, except for the two gay men that Mitzi had invited, in the event that Sylvia's mysterious Mr. Smith actually liked men.  If he hadn't read the pure considerateness of the act he might have been offended.  Luckily, the two gentlemen in question were hitting it off, so the party would not have been a waste for them.

There were benefits to this situation, one being the food.  There was no denying that the assorted lonely crafting ladies who were here could cook.  Smith had brought a dish as well, homemade apple pie.  He didn't make it of course, the hospital administrators wife had made it for him.  She'd also let him use her husbands suit and other cloths, and was even considerate enough to drive him here.  She was heading into the city anyway, for a rendevous with her lover.  Sylvia's house was on the way.  She wouldn't remember any of that naturally, and Smith was begingin to wonder if it would be possible for him to somehow erase his memory of this particular event.

"So, Mitzi says you're somekind of professional.  What do you do exactly?"  The woman asking the question was not unpleasant to look at.  she had a bright smile, and eye that shone a brilliant green.  smith supposed she might be thought of as full figured, but he had long ago gotten past looking at the outside of people.  the inside was always far more interesting.

"I used to be an assasin and counter intelligence operative for the government.  After my supervisors tried to have me killed though I dropped off the map and have been living in an asylum."  Her smile never faultered, because her mind translated what he'd actually said into something else.  She, like so many other people, heard what she wanted.

"That's very nice.  So, what brings you into Mitzi's circle of friends?"

"I teaching her paranormal adopted daughter to harness her psionic potential, before she looses her mind and goes on a killing spree after people who ask pointless questions not really intersted in the answers."

"That's really fascinating."  Her smile was still in place, but her eyes shifted, she was bored with whatever her own mind had substituted for what Smith was saying.  "If you'll excuse me, I need to go see if Mitzi needs any help in the kitchen."  She fluttered off like some kind of butterfly in search of better nectar.

"That is a really creepy trick."  He said.  He being the only other straigh man in the room.  He extended his hand and Smith could tell he was not even remotely phased by what he had heard, and what he had heard was exactly what Smith had said.  "Jack Donaldson.  I teach Sylvia and the others self defense."

Smith shook his hand.  It was like meeting a legend, no, it was meeting a legend.  "Pleasure to meet you.  Smith, no first name.  So, she roped you into this too?"

"She's a persuasive girl, and I'm hoping it was just that and mot mind control that brought me here."

"She is, and if it was then we have a problem I'm going to pretend doesn't exist."

Donaldson laughed.  "So, can I spike that punch for you?"  Jack said, showing Smith his hip flask.

There was a moment of longing, but Smith steadied himself.  "No, thanks."

"Sorry."  Jack said, covering the flask with his coat, "If I'd known I wouldn't have offered."

Smith was struck for a second, then realized there must have been tells.  Donaldson has been at this game since the nineteen forties, he's bound to have excellent observational skills.  "No problem.  We all have our demons."

Donaldson nodded.  "So, I'll leave you to it.  I should mingle and try to have a good time."

Smith nodded.  "Maybe I'll try that too."

"You better both have good times."  Mitzi said, refilling punch glasses from a pitcher she was carrying around.  "Sylvia is worried about you two."

Smith wondered if people without mental powers could see how pure Mitzi's motives for everything were.  "The world owes you a debt of thanks for raising Sylvia the way you have.  You have a remarkable daughter."

Mitzi smiled, "I know she is.  She seems to think the world of you, I'm glad you were able to come."  She moves into the room and Smith watches her go. 

"She's as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside.  you know how rare that is?"

Donaldson nodded, "Oh yeah.  And I'm not partial to blondes."  He smiled and patted Smith on the shoulder as he went back into the crowd.

Smith went to the table for more food.  He was samlping everything, that's what this whole pot luck thing was for.  As he rounded the table he stopped behind a wona who was stiring some baked beans.  She turned her head and smiled, "If they sit the top cools and they look bad.  So I'm stiring them to keep them looking good.  silly, but appearance is important in food."

"You're a chef?"

She nods, "Lorraine O'Neil.  You must be Mr. Smith."  She licks the baked bean off her hand and extends it, "Mitzi has told me nothing about you."  They shake hands.  "Change that, tell me everything about you."

"What makes you think I'm Smith?"

"I recognize Donaldson from when I was a kid, those two guys are snogging by the bathroom door.  That leaves you as Smith."

"What if Smith is one of the gay guys?"

"You were looking over my shoulder at my breasts, you're not gay.  If this were a logic puzzle you'd be Smith."

"I was actually staring at the baked beans, I read minds so physical beauty isn't that important to me."

She smiled, "Wow, that must make the getting to know the person part of the relationship sort of dull for you."

Smith had to look at what she'd heard to make sure, and then he knew she'd heard what he'd said.  She also beleived it.  "Why do you believe I can actually read minds?"

"Well, if it was a pick-up line it was lame.  What woman would really want a guy that doesn't care about her looks.  Sure, I want you to notice my smarts, my sense of humor, but I also want you to think I'm beautiful too.  If it was a pick-up line then it wasn't one that would have much success."

If this were a logic puzzle.  "I used to be an assasin and counter intelligence operative for the government.  After my supervisors tried to have me killed I went into hiding and have been living in an asylum."


She blinked, then blinked again.  "You're serious?"  She put her hand on the table to steady herself for a second, "Does Mitzi know.  Are they still after you?"  She looks around, then leans in to whisper, "Are we in any danger?"

This evening might turn out to be more interesting than  I first thought.

"I can assure delivery within ten days."  He paused to let the full weight of the concept sink in, "And I assure you this girl is special."

"How special is special?"

The bistro was a popular eatery in downtown Chicago.  The two men sat across from one another dressed in business suits and sipped fruity drinks.  Hollander's operation had taken a downturn since Sarah had screwed up his last deal, but he was going to bounce back.  He'd called a few of his shadier contacts in the United States and they had given him some leads.  Ultra-Terrorists were not his usual customers, but it's not every day a white slaver gets a lead on a teenage girl he can sell.

"Like our mutual friend said, she has various gifts, not the least of which is teleportation."

The customer smiled, "That's very hard to come by.  The DNA sequencing has always been hard to replicate, but with a living sample, and a girl at that, we can clone it to our hearts content."

"I'm glad you're pleased.  Now we just need to discuss price."

"Obviously.  I heard you've had a setback recently, this is out of the ordinary for you.  I appreciate you giving me first crack at this.  Forty Million, if you can assure us live delivery in ten days."

Hollander was a skilled liar and crook.  He had an excellent poker face, but even he knew he slipped when the client said forty million.  "If I'd known paranormals were such high dollar items I'd have gotten into the trade a long time ago."

"We have a deal then?"

"Absolutely."  Hollander reached out and shook on the deal, "Mr.?"

The client said his name, but Hollander didn't hear it.  He realized that his feet were wet.  He glanced down to see what the trouble was, then back up.  The world was completely wrong.  It was cold, and he was naked and strapped to something, he could feel his weight hanging from his arms.  "I said my name is Smith."  The voice was no longer jovial, but cold and frightening.

"Where am I, what's going on?"

"This is the Michigan Avenue Bridge.  It's a bascule bridge, which I guess means it's like a draw bridge.  You're tied to the side closest to the Wrigley Building.  Normally the bridge is only open twice a year, once to let boats down the Chicago River to the lake, and then in the fall to let them back up the river."

Hollander tried to look around, but he found his chin was against the roadway and he could only look straight ahead, at Smith.  "Please, I'll do anything.  I can pay you, I know people, I can get you anything."  Hollander had a good poker face, but he was coming unglued.

"No, I'm rarely motivated to this kind of elaborate action, I'd rather not let all the effort go to waste."

"Why, why are you doing this to me?"

"Sarah.  She seems like a sweet girl, and she has a friend that knows who I am.  If you kidnap Sarah, that might expose me.  I'm not really strong enough for that yet."

Hollander sees an opening, a chance to stall.  "My laptop, it has all the data about her.  If I don't pick it up from it's hiding place by tomorrow, my associate will take it, the threat will still be there.  If you let me go, I'll get it, give it to you.  Then I'll disappear, I swear it."

Smith reached into the pocket of his hospital scrubs and took out a hard drive.  "We already took care of that.  This isn't my first Spring Formal, so I've tried to cover my bases."

Hollander tried to move, but any strain on his bonds made him ache.  "What are you going to do with me?"

"You're not very bright, are you.  When the bridge closes, the two sides will meet and pop your head off like a zit.  Your shoulders will be a mess, and your hands, but I have the feeling you're in the INTERPOL database so with your head and DNA they'll figure out who you were."

"YOU'RE INSANE!"

"Well, maybe you're not a complete idiot."

"Wait, if you're sitting there, then the bridge can't be open.  You'd fall."

"True."  With that word the world shifted and blurred for a moment and both men were back in the Bistro.

"What the hell just happened?"  Hollander's voice was strained.  His composure was gone.  He tried to get up and the world began to shake.  The patrons in the bistro began to race around in a panic as the ground shook.  Glassware fell from tables and racks and people began to scream.  "Who are you?" Hollander screamed at Smith, who sat as though nothing were happening.

"I'm not sure.  But, oddly enough you've helped me to find a path.  For that epiphany I owe you a little comfort."

"What are you...."

Hollander would have finished his sentence, but the bridge finished closing.

He lay very still, afraid that the sound of his breathing could be heard it seemed so loud to him.  He could see down into the girls showers through the vent, and on the other side of the vent lay the canister.  He had slipped the hose through the vent before the girls arrived, and waited.  Once the hot waters was running, and there was plenty of steam he carefully turned on the gas.  The heavy vapors fell into the room and mixed with the hot water vapors.  The girls laughed and talked, all the while inhaling the vapors.  He let the gas run until the gauge showed the canister was empty, then simply waited for them to leave.  He knew there was no way he could get out of the air duct without being heard.  Once the girls had finished their showers and gone, he made his way out of the air duct.  It would be days before the effects were complete, he just had to wait and see if he'd been successful.

Mary Douglas sat on the bed.  She looked at the small collection of mini-bar bottles on the bed, unopened.  She imagined drinking them, and escaping her worry.  But Donnie might call, and she couldn't let him down.  not after she worked so hard to stop drinking.

Her phone vibrated on the table and she picked it up, it was Donnie, "Honey, how's it going?"

"Mary."  a familiar voice says, "It's Jack."  Mary realized Donnie's phone was at school, and he had another one.

"Jack, why do you have Donnie's phone?"

"Complicated.  Listen Mary.  I don't want to worry you, but those FBI agents in the next room from you, they're on the take.  They work for the mobsters your husband is working for.  Now, try and relax.  I have a friend there with you, in the room.  You can't see him, but he's going to make sure you're ok.  Can you trust me for about seven minutes?"

Mary's heart rises to her throat, and she looks at the liquor one more time.  "Donnie trusts you, I can trust you.  You may not know this, but my son is an excellent judge of character."

"Actually I do.  Now, the world is going to get very crazy in a couple of minutes.  First sounds of trouble you run into the adjoining bathroom and get in the tub and you stay there until I call you back.  Ok."

Mary nods, "Ok.  Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Are Donnie and my husband safe?"

"They will be in seven minutes."

Jean walked with her cup of tea towards an empty table.  The cafeteria was usually empty this time of the morning, and she generally liked it that way.  A few moments of respite from the harshness of her work day.  She slid the plastic chair away from the table and sat down, taking the weight off her feet and letting out a deep sigh.

"You sound tired."  a man's voice says, and then he's sitting across from her.  His eyes are warm and his posture relaxed.  "It'll be spring soon, you can shake off the winter blah's then."

She smiles back at him, he's not her best memories.  "I haven't seen you since the funeral.  I would have preferred to never see you again."

"Get used to disappointment."  he says, "I give self-defense training to some kids in Oak Park.  And I'm taking on a new student."

Jean's shoulders slump.  She has never been particularly good with puzzles, but sometimes the pieces just fit together.  Delaney had mentioned classes, and now here's Jack.  "I don't want her life turned upside down by you.  You're a flood gate to memories she doesn't need."

"I'm a window onto her father's life you'd rather she never look through.  And her mother's."  Jack's voice is as young as his face, but when he talks his eyes tell volumes about his age.  "She's special."

"Don't tell me about how she's special Jack.  Don't come in here and spin your convergence bullshit on me.  I've lived in the shadow of it, remember?  I've picked up the pieces because of it.  You just blow into lives and then out again like some foul wind.  Other people have to live with the consequences of you and your strange luck."

"I can help her.  More than all the shrinks and counselors and the prescription drugs she's getting and will get.  She's ready, she just needs some guidance."

"Ready?  Ready for what?  To accept the legacy that got half her relatives burned at the stake or," this is where she falters, her anger isn't nearly as powerful as her grief, "Blown to kingdom come."

"Yes."  It's the only answer he can give her.  "I'm not going to tell you about convergence.  You know enough about it already.  You're her mother now.  If you are set against it, I wont do it.  You're not though.  You'll take any chance to make her whole, or at least let her be happy.  I know you that well."

Jean has been trying to work up a mad to keep from crying.  But Delaney is too valuable to her.  She means too much to the woman.  "I hate you.  You know that, right?"

"I can't hold that against you."  He puts a hand on hers.

"I want her to be normal.  To have friends and go to classes and be happy."  The struggle not to cry is shaking her frame.  She swallows hard.  "I don't want to loose her like I lost them, all of them."

"I know a few people, people that have experience dealing with people like her.  I can have them call you.  If nothing else to have other people to rant to."

She chuckles, her hands taking his.  "I hate you."  She says, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"Me too, sometimes."  he replies.

Jack slipped through the open window with the agility of a young man, sliding his body along the high support rafter.  It was a noiseless slither, practiced and precise.  He lay still for a few moments, listening to the sounds of the space, familiarizing himself with them.  The smell of long settled dust and wet wood filled his nostrils.

Slowly he pulled his legs under him and then rose, padding softly along the rafter to it's far end, then snaking his way down the wall.  There was laughter to his right, and the soft sound of air being split to his left.  With a smile he glided through the shadows towards the left.

The warehouse was run down and dark.  Artificial light streamed out of a doorway a few yards away, and the soft sounds of someone practicing a long ago perfected kata could faintly be heard.  For Jack it was important to seem casual, it put people in a strange frame of mind.  He took a slow deep breath, and let it out softly.  One hand slipped into the pocket of his jacket, and a smile touched his lips as he strode into the light of the room and waited to be seen.

The man worked a pair of swords, spinning and twirling them with a speed and precision that was as lovely as it was deadly.  His rhythm was broken and he slowed the whirling of the swords, stopping in a ready position.  "Well, look who it is."

There was a time for banter, it bought people time and let them think.  this wasn't the time to let him think.  Jack started to walk slowly towards him, pulling his hand from his pocket.  Clenched in his closed fist was a bundle of string, carefully folded, the ends fixed with metal key rings and weights.  Lukas stepped into his kata, blades whirling in a pattern meant to intimidate.  Jack tossed the bundle towards his opponent when the blades were in the perfect spot, holding one of the weights for a few fractions of a second to give the bundle time to unwind some.  Lukas carried a pair of wicked heavy bladed swords with notches cut along the back edge.  The odds of each edge, moving in a preset pattern catching a metal ring on the string bundle Jack threw could be predicted by a mathematician.  But to see it happen, like it was planned and done off hand was really impressive.  The left blade caught one ring, then as it moved through the air the other ring was drawn into the path of the right hand sword.  The problem for Lukas was that the next move in the routine required the swords to be further apart than the string allowed, and the swinging weights, driven my inertial forces fouled around his ankles.  A second later one sword has slipped Lukas' grasp, and had snapped back, the dull edge striking his temple, and his footing became precarious, but the real problem was he took his eyes off the prize, and Jack was on him.

Lukas was struggling with the strings and weights when Jack dropped onto him, elbow to the solar-plexus.  The wind rushed out of Lukas and he couldn't scream, let alone fight.  Jack hand cuffed each wrist to the opposing ankle, then wrapped his head in entirely too much duct tape.  "You stay here, okay?"  Jack whispered.

On his way to the other lilt room in the abandoned warehouse Jack took a zip-loc bag from his coat pocket, carefully removing the latex glove and slipping it onto his hand.  It was actually two gloves, one inside the other.  As he reached the door he very gently removed the outer glove, then with his hands behind his back, walked into the room.

Perry sat on a couch with a pair of bikini clad beauties.  They were feeding him grapes and other fruit, giggling like they were having the time of their lives.  They were actually under his control.  His power to control minds only worked on women, and he had gone about as far down the rabbit hole as a person could go with that sort of ability.  "Knock Knock.  Am I disturbing you?"

Perry's eyes betrayed his terror, but his smile helped him look more relaxed.  "Girls, take out the trash."  he said, and both of his lovely drones got up.  "You remember how this works right?  The girls are my puppets, and Lukas trains them well."

Muscle memory can be predicted, if you know what it's supposed to do you can be there to take advantage of it.  Jack glided into a series of moves meant to give him the opening he needed.  The girls moved just like they were supposed to, and he used the tried and true Three Stooges Attack, fingers to the eyes and slaps to the faces.  both girls screamed and collapsed, hands to their faces to try and stop the pain.  "I've learned most people aren't very scary right after to poke them in the eyes, especially if it's with a latex glove covered in pepper spray."  Jack pulled the glove off, wrapping it's exterior to the inside and discarding it.  "Now, there are a little over two hundred bones in the human body.  When Gwen walked off that roof, like you told her to, she broke almost every one of them.  That wasn't what killed her, and it's not going to kill you either."

The police arrived about half an hour later.  The girls, both missing from Florida, were taken to the hospital for treatment and then reunited with their parents.  Lukas and Perry were both wanted by the NSA for ultra-terrorist activities.  Perry's bones would heal, but he'd never be the same again.

"Can I have a refill?"  Jack asked the waitress.

"You're here late tonight."  the waitress says, filling the coffee cup.

"Had some loose ends to wrap up."  Jack replies, adding entirely too much sugar to his coffee.