[M/R] The Unseen: Act 2: Hunt for the Relics (S)

[~N~]

Some Hendrix (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AIhtafqZvy8), if you will...
************************************************** *************
DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: Noon
LOCATION: Moscow, Russia

http://me-wiki.eng.uab.edu/isgg/wp-content/uploads/2008/09/2249960-View_from_my_Hotel_room_in_Moscow-Russia.jpg

"Sammy Sansoni..." a man with a thick Russian accent said, "... do you really think your boss and 'boys' are coming for you, my friend? No..." he shook his head, "...no, I don't think they are. They will never get into my country, and even if they do?" The man paused for dramatic effect.

"We will do this to them," he finished, just a small hammer came down and smashed the bones in one of Sammy's fingers, held in place by two other thick burly gentlemen. His howling screams hardly seemed to elicit more than a slight, irritated narrowing of Victor Stanislov's icy blue eyes.

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Stanislov was the Ex-KGB boss of the Russian mob, and he rose to his feet as the sickening crack of another of Sammy's fingers being smashed beneath the hammer echoed throughout the darkened room beneath the Kremlin Hotel, reserved for occasions such as this for its soundproof interior.

"We know you know where it is, so why don't you just tell us and spare yourself a lot more pain, 'Sammy'?" Stanislov mockingly reasoned with him. Sammy wept; oh how he wept, his body heaving as his hands shook, his whole world crashing down around him as the Russian mobsters squeezed tighter for their information. He knew he couldn't hide out forever. Tony just took too long at everything. He couldn't stomach the thought of going to his grave for this thing.

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you! I don't know exactly where it is, but I'll tell you!" he squealed out in pain, pleading with the merciless men trio who surrounded him now.

"How do you not know exactly where it is, Sammy?" Victor questioned. "How can that be when you know where to find it? Boris, show him how we treat liars here in Mother Russia."

Boris Scarkoff powerfully grabbed the back of the metal chair and hurled the 250 pound Guido to the floor, tied up as he was to it, nearly breaking the chair into metal pieces as it crashed to the cement below. Then he savagely delivered several brutal kicks to the ribs and face of the Italian mobster before drawing his weapon on him.

At this point, Victor casually strode around the table and looked down into the bloody beaten pulp that was Sammy Sansoni. "You see, my Italian friend, we don't like liars here. But we're very efficient about taking care of any liars we know about."

Three of Sammy's teeth were missing from his mouth as he spit and coughed up blood, crying through the swelling of his eyes. Victor leaned down, because at this point, all three men were just blurry shadows in Sammy's field of vision.

"Mr. Sansoni. Either tell us where your trinket is, or we will extract every bone from your body, starting with your teeth, fingers, and toes, until you die."

What could he do? Sammy nodded, wincing and weeping through the pain--a broken man--and told them what he knew...

************************************************** ***********
DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: Noon
LOCATION: Cairo, Egypt

http://images.nationalgeographic.com/wpf/media-live/photos/000/066/cache/skyline-cairo-egypt_6686_600x450.jpg

"The road to Memphis isn't far, sir," the driver said to Max Miller and his associate Sarah Richards.

"Good. We're in a bit of a hurry, and customs delayed us yesterday for far too long."

"Apologies, sir. We must take precautions. Our country has been unsafe as of late, and we cannot risk the security of our national treasures for the sake of convenience," the driver explained as he shut Sarah's door and got into the driver's seat, pulling his own door shut and starting the engine.

"Max, I need to tell you something," Sarah said suddenly, turning to him.

"What is it, Sarah? You look concerned," he replied, knitting his white eyebrows.

"It's just that..." she pursed her lips in worry and uncertainty, "I'm not completely sure where the serpent's eye is. Memphis is just my--and Jen's--first guess... it could be elsewhere..."

"Well, Sarah, two things I have are resources and time. What I don't have is patience for anyone who wastes my time. We will look through the temple complex of Ptah, and we will see what we can find. If it isn't there, then where else would we look?"

"There's a necropolis near Thebes, much further south, part of the old Upper kingdom. It might very well be in one of those places," she replied. "But without making certain that we've searched through the ruins here in Memphis, we might be overlooking the obvious."

"Sir, I overheard that you were going to Memphis, yes?" the driver interrupted.

"You've got good ears, Mister..." Max waited for the driver's name.

"Abasi, sir. You will need special permission to get into the temple complex there, and special means."

"Who do I need to speak with, Abasi?"

"There is a man who has been working in those digs for a while now from Great Britain. His name is Harold Ashton, and he works with the supervisor of our Archaeology Department. You would need to speak with him, sir."

"Shit," Max muttered.

"What?" Sarah asked, noting the look of irritation on her boss's face.

"I know him..." he explained.

"How?"

"We went to school together. It was a long time ago," Max replied dismissively. "I know Harold. Can you get me through to him?"

"You need permission..."

Max flashed a few hundred dollar bills. "How much permission?"

Abasi's eyes widen and he nearly collided with an oncoming car which he had to swerve to miss. "...I can get you in to talk to him. My cousin, he works underneath him, coordinating affairs between his country and mine, but he will not tolerate amateurs, sir. Make sure you know what you are talking about or he will throw you out quickly."

"Believe me, we know what we're looking for," Max replied glancing at Sarah, "It's just finding it that might be a problem."

"Egypt is a big place, Mr. Miller," Abasi said with a nod, "and we have more ruins than you could explore in a lifetime..."
************************************************** ***********
DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: Noon
LOCATION: Lima, Peru

"Where are you off to Mr. Frakes?" the Sumaq hotel concierge inquired.

"Cachora," the blond haired Benjamin Frakes replied with a smile.
http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PaPbAzEvumk/TSt7qGO79wI/AAAAAAAAALo/WpQCcp-tLD8/s1600/Edward_Norton_Painted_Veil_3.jpg

"Ah, I see. Going to Machu Picchu then?" replied the concierge with a knowing smile.

"You got it."

"There's a bus that will take you to Cochora. From there... well, I'm sure you know, it's no easy trek. The terrain is treacherous. We lose dozens of tourists each year that way. 100 miles from Cochora, with mules. No easy feat, Mr. Frakes. Weather, bandits, malaria... there is very little hospitable civilization that way."

Ben smiled as he hefted his deluxe camping backpacking gear over his shoulders. "That's why I've come prepared, Mr. Espenoza."

The Peruvian nodded and smiled. "I hope to see you back here soon, but not too soon, Mr. Frakes. The bus to Cochora should be arriving in the next half hour."

"Thank you, Mr. Espenoza," Ben said appreciatively, handing him a generous tip for his help and advice.

The concierge spoke up one more time, "If you make it there, seek out John Leviers. He is one of our most successful and well-known guides."

"Thanks again, Pedro."

"My pleasure, Mr. Frakes."

In less than 30 minutes, Ben Frakes handed his heavy backpack camping gear to the driver, who put it in the hold of the bus, while the young man found a seat towards the middle. He looked longingly out the window, thinking over things that had happened to him in the past few days, and what things he might need to consider in the days to come.

He hardly even noticed that a priest also made his way onto the bus and sat down near the front. Father Bernardo Francis was less prepared than Ben Frakes, but perhaps more learned and focused on what he would find. Machu Picchu was not his destination, but rather a sister site, called Choquequirao, for that perhaps better fit the description of the place talked about in the enigmatic passages in the tome he had recovered...

************************************************** ***********
DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: Noon
LOCATION: Bucharest, Romania

http://www.petergreenberg.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/07/bucharest-downtown.jpg

Gerald Brassier and Agents Sandler and Garrus had stepped off the plane ten minutes ago and were now speaking to customs officials about a woman named Tansy James.

"She would've arrived possibly today, possibly yesterday." He pulled out his badge and a picture of the reporter.

One of the customs officials told him to wait a moment and went to get the head of the Customs Office, Adam Ovidiu. Mr. Ovidiu appeared about twenty minutes later and addressed the trio of the FBI X-Files division.

"Have you put this through Interpol yet?"

"I thought I would do that after I confirmed she actually passed through here," Agent Brassier explained.

"Hm... what's her name?"

"Tansy James. She's a wanted fugitive from the States, specifically, Alesia Island. I intend to bring her in."

"FBI, all the way over here. Very interesting," the head of Customs replied.

"I'm sure it is, but what I need from you now is the last twenty-four hours of security camera footage from your customs area here."

"I can go one better than that, Mr. Brassier," Adam replied with a smile. "Sandro, run a check through our systems, for a 'Tansy James'."

"Yes, sir," the assistant customs officer replied with a nod. All of the men waited for several minutes while the computer searched its database.

"There she is!" Sandro replied. "James, Tansy! She arrived late yesterday evening."

All the men crowded around the monitor terminal to get a good look at the picture id and see if it matched Brassier's picture of the reporter. Needless to say, the likeness was palpable, even if the passport photo was as typically bad as they usually were.

"I will alert Interpol, if you don't mind, Agent Brassier. Will you be needing a place to serve as a base of operations? I could direct you to a number of hotels that you may want to check with. Meanwhile, I'll send this through to all accommodations in the area, and we'll see if she stayed anywhere local. If not, we can increase our search and broaden our scope, but that will take time."

"Make it happen, Mr. Ovidiu. You have been very helpful," Brassier replied. "Hopefully we will be able to track and catch this fugitive and be out of your way soon."

"No problems, Agent Brassier. We are always happy to help. Do you have any idea where she could be going?"

"Unfortunately, no... I wasn't able to get that much information from... prior search attempts," Gerald Brassier muttered, thinking back over the several hours of data mining his team spent finding out where Tansy had gone and which flight she had departed on when they finally pieced together enough information to realize that she had left the island. And of course, there was still the open question of how she escaped from them at the hospital, but Brassier, through his experience, already had his suspicions.

"A shame. We shall work with what we have. I'll get this to the hotels..." Adam Ovidiu cheerfully offered.

"Thanks. Put me in touch with Interpol. I'm going to need to get this picture of her out there, since I have nothing else to go on."
************************************************** ***********
DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: Noon
LOCATION: Vatican City, Rome, Italy

http://www.vampires.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/vatican.jpg

"Welcome, Brother Stephen," Cardinal Pietri said with a smile, embracing the priest cordially. "I trust your flight from the Island was uneventful?"

"Very much so, but I am curious as to why you invited me here, Father Pietri..." Stephen replied, returning the embrace.

The Cardinal looked him in the eyes and simply said, "Come. We have much to discuss with the Holy Father."

Entering into the grand chambers of St Peter's Basilica, the two priests moved with respectful, dignified steps across the floor into the private chamber where Pope Pius XII sat, awaiting his present company.

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"Cardinal, you have brought our young son at last," His Eminence said in warm greeting.

"Yes, he has come quite faithfully, as you have requested, Your Eminence," Cardinal Pietri replied with a slight bow in deference.

Brother Martucci did the same.

"But does he know why we have summoned him?"

"He does not, Father. As you requested," Pietri answered.

"Good," the elderly pope replied with a small smile. "Brother Stephen, are you aware of the affairs of Father Francis? Your communications to Father Pietri indicate that you are..."

"I am... somewhat, Father," Stephen answered with hesitation.

"Then you know he has gone to Peru, and what he seeks there," the Pope continued.

"Yes."

"I know this as well. I have made sure that his expenses are taken care of and that he receives no trouble while there."

"I'm sorry, Your Eminence, if I interfered in any way," Brother Martucci confessed, flustered in his realization that he may have meddled in a task that was issued from the Holy Father himself.

"Nonsense, young Stephen. You did as you thought was right," the Pope consoled him. "Truly, I would have expected nothing less. But I desire something more of you, young man." There was now a glimmer, somewhat unnatural even, in the eyes of the old Pope as he stared at Stephen.

"What... what may I do for Your Grace?" Brother Stephen replied, stammering a bit as he tried to avert his eyes, but found it difficult to break the Pope's gaze.

"I would like you to seek out another relic... in Romania..." This time, Brother Stephen was certain that the Pope was exerting some kind of invisible hold over the young priest; one that forced him to answer with one reply:

"I am at your service, Your Grace..."
************************************************** ***********
DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: Noon
LOCATION: Cumae, Italy

http://campania.italy-trip.org/photos/cumes/images/cumae_antro_della_sibila_4526.jpg

As he walked along the corridors with an otherworldly grace, Jeremy Venture, dressed in a sleek black suit and sunglasses, studied the markings along the walls. Somewhere, deep inside that cave, long ago, Aeneas had consulted the Sibyl who gave him the insight he needed. It was the first step on a journey that would take him straight into the darkest of places in the world, and no one could be happier about that prospect than Mr. Venture.

While he sought corporate power at Syber-Netix, his true goal was power that would suit that part of himself that had awoken all those many years ago when he was a child... when the storm had struck. Since then, he had immersed himself secretly in the lore of relics and places of mystery in search of something as unnatural as that presence, that hunger that gnawed away inside him day after day.

Jeremy desire power beyond mortality... beyond any pointless lucrative aim that Maximillian Miller could conceive of. Jeremy didn't just want wealth or executive control...

He wanted total control.

And he would go to the ends of the earth to find it... literally. His footsteps carried him deeper into the haunted catacombs of isolated Cumae in search of his prize...

[Aheris]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: Noon
Location: Lima, Peru



The flight to Lima had been uneventful; the cabin was, as usual, stuffy and dry. There had been the typical mix of guests: Single businessman, honeymooning couple, a priest...Despite all this comforting familiarity, Guiliana couldn't relax. She did doze once or twice, but just then the passenger beside her would stir again.

And there was this sense of anticpation. The priest was pretending very obviously to be ignoring everyone. Guiliana felt his gaze on more than one occasion. Lance appeared jumpy, from his position a some seats away. Maybe she was imagining it, but...once or twice she thought she heard a mew as well.

Now it was noon in Lima, and the sleeplessness was beginning to wear on Guiliana. Rest would be needed tonight or she would not be able to put on the pleasant face her father expected of her.I wouldn't want him to think anything. At least I don't have to meet him until tonight.

Guiliana sat outside the airport with a cup of coffe in both hands, suitcase lurched up next to the bench on which she sat. The kitty carrier was seated beside her on the bench; "Snowflake" had been let out in the girls' room, but needed to go back in the carrier for appearance's sake.

Lance was there, too. Mostly, it had been a quiet walk off the plane and outside; neither seemed particularly inclined to conversation.

"I suppose we should catch a cab to the hotel, hmmm, maow?" she said, angling her head to look down at the glowing eyes sitting beside her.

Guiliana's silver aviator sunglasses did a little to block out the sun...However, the lingering sensation of a headache was exaggerated by the remaining brightness. She stood and walked to the edge of the sidewalk, waiting patiently for one of the plethera of cabs to sidle up to the curb.

************************************************** ********************************

Date: August 20th
Time: 12:30
Location: Guiliana's room, Casa del Mar


Guiliana stood at the open window, smiling at the faint scent of the Pacific. There was nothing like the indigo water---the Atlantic was beautiful, for sure. It was melancholy and deep. But the Pacific was vivid and alive in its' own way; the sun also lent a golden sheen to the edges of the bare, blue sky.


"My father was planning to arrive this evening, but his flight has been delayed. He will most likely be arriving tomorrow morning...In the meantime, I should like to make some visits. There's plenty to see in Lima, but I want to go East, to the Sacred Valley."

When Guiliana had studied Anthropology in college, she'd taken a particular interest in the Incan cult of the Moon. The Queen of the Incas, the Coya, had been in direct control of all her female subjects; both socially and religiously. Women were charged with the priestly duties of the Moon-Cult. She had also read, with intent interest, about the Urubamba River. The river was considered to be the eartly counterpart of the Milky Way---and continued the sacred flow from the power of the Sun and Moon to the Earth. The male and female principles in the archetype of the Sun and Moon were complementary to each other---one was not subordinate to the other.

There was a jewel that the priestesses of the Moon had cared for; something that represented the sacred energy of the River. Guiliana's professor had claimed that it was just a legend; or that at best, had been long lost to historians. The one snatch of a description she had read described it as a teardrop shape. Despite the sparse research done, Guiliana had ideas of her own about this.

I need to see what I can dig up about those priestesses..It's a trek down to the Temple of the Moon, and I don't know if I am going to find anything there...I suppose at worst, I'm going to see some beautiful stonework.

But what, if anything..should I say to these two?

Guiliana turned from the window to her compatriots, hair swinging. She crossed her arms and assumed her usual self-confident posture.

"I say we get some tamales and hit the museum. Any objections?"

[Koti~]

Date: August 20th
Time: 12:30
Location: Guiliana's room, Casa del Mar

Sleep
That’s what was on Stephanie’s mind at the moment. Once they had made it to the hotel room, she had shifted back to normal, and felt like she had spent the last couple of ours in a tumble machine. Her body was sore and still from sitting in the cat carrier, and her head was pounding with it. The cargo hold for animals was one giant echo chamber of cat’s meowing, dogs barking, and a slew of other animal noises. She walked around the hotel room, not taking in any of the beauty of it, and just noting the open window and the sunlight coming through it.

“I think I’m going to lay down for a bit, if that is okay” Stephanie said, rubbing the side of her head with the palm of her right hand. The brief respite in the ladies room at the airport had done little to help her stretch her body out, and having to go back so soon to being a cat wasn’t good either. Her body felt like it had been stuck between two heavy set guys in a crowded room.
Not really waiting for a response, she headed to one of the rooms and closed the door softly, as to not aggravate her head. Shutting out the light after words, she sighed, the shaded room and the air conditioning were working wonders on her. She flopped down on the bed, not even worrying about getting out of her clothes, allowing her head to throb in silent pain.

*So, when are you going to let me out?* the voice echoed around in her head, making her sit upright with fear.

*I…I changed my mind…* Stephanie thought, her voice sounding timid even in her own mind. She could feel a swell of anger from her other self, which made her heart flutter with renewed fear.

*You have what?! You promised once we got off the island, that this body would be MINE! Now, you will give me this body, or I will take it with force, and kill off those so called friends of yours in the other room!* Evalon screamed, her voice growing with rage at each word. Her head began to swim with images of Guilana and Lance covered in blood and wounds. Tears streamed down her face as she curled into a ball, the palm of her hands planted firmly on her head. The shouting voice was lost in the fierce pounding of her own head, Evalons anger still burning behind the pain.

*I won’t let you hurt them, and I don’t want to hurt anymore. Not like last time* Stephanie said mentally, catching Evalon off guard a bit. The memories of the orphanage swam into blurry recognition, before it faded into a dull ache in her head, making it hard to keep her eyes open. She shut them tight, tears silently falling from the corner of her eyes as she laid in the fetal position, not daring to move and breathing in shallow, raggedy gasps.

*I… will wait until you recover and enjoy a day of freedom. After that, I am taking over, no matter the place* Evalon said, some of the pain splashing onto her. Stephanie meakly nodded into the darkness, and stared into the grey light behind her eyelids, unaware of anyone in the apartment.

[Anne Bonny]

DATE: August 19th, 2042
TIME: 8:30pm
LOCATION: Brasov, Romania

“I’m sorry, you’re WHERE?!”

Tansy James couldn’t help but shrink away from the receiver when the sound of her editor’s voice screamed through the phone. “Europe,” she repeated slowly, a part of her wondering if the other woman had actually misheard her. “Look, Marla…”

“Have you lost your mind?” Marla interrupted. “I had you assigned to Alesia, NOT EUROPE! Tansy, being a travel reporter doesn’t mean you get to just go wherever you want! We have deadlines! We have a schedule of places to visit, and honey, you’re not assigned to anywhere in Europe anytime soon! Now you’d better get back on a plane and come straight back to California so we can discuss your future with our magazine!”

The blond reporter bristled. “Look, Marla!” she snapped back, unable to bite her tongue any longer. “The Alesia article is finished, and I’ll send it over to you as soon as I get into my hotel room. Secondly, something of an emergency came up and I’m not coming home anytime soon. Now, I called because I have a proposition for you. Either I can take some of my vacation time to handle what I need to and I’ll call you when I’m finished, or we can make this a business trip and I’ll have a article finished just in time for our Halloween issue.”

There was silence on the other end, and for a quick moment, Tansy’s blood ran cold. No matter how much she despised the woman, Tansy had never talked back to her superior. At least, not to her face. She had no idea how the woman would react. But after a long plane ride from the States to Spain, an uncomfortable layover, another flight to Bucharest, and a three and a half hour train ride to Brasov, Tansy was tired and sore. The girl had completely lost her usual even temper.

She mentally braced herself against the string of curses that would certainly come through the phone next, but instead heard a curt, “Fine.”

“Fine?” Tansy repeated dumbly.

“Yes, fine. But Tansy, that damn article had better be good. And whatever Halloween one you’re writing.” There was another pause. “Where in Europe are you, anyway?”

“Um, I have to run, Marla, sorry,” Tansy replied quickly and hung up the phone.

It had been a fair question, she reasoned as she turned away from the lobby payphone and moved toward the front desk of the hotel. But after seeing FBI agents break down the door into a hospital room, Tansy wasn’t about to tell anyone back home where she was. All she wanted was a quick bite to eat, a cool shower, and a good night’s sleep.

DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 7:46am
LOCATION: Brasov, Romania

“And could I just get one international stamp please?” Tansy asked the young clerk in the hotel’s tiny gift shop.

The other girl nodded and placed the requested sticker onto her postcard. “The mail box is in the lobby,” she said through a thick accent. The American girl smiled her thanks and paid before heading in the direction the clerk had pointed.

She paused in a seat for just a moment and withdrew a pen from her bag, scribbing a quick message on the back of the postcard.

Thanks for the good time. Sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye.

XOXO,
T

She addressed it to Dr. Thomas Fynn, care of Daylight Hospital in Alesia before dropping it into the mailbox.

Tansy then squared her shoulders and ran her fingers through her hair. That last act was closure enough. It was time to move on and find this blood stone thing, whatever it was, why mental patients screamed about it and doctors dreamed about it, and why it’s very name had been bothering her so.

She donned a pair of brass aviator sunglasses with a jingling of bracelets at her wrist and smoothed down her denim skirt before exiting the wide double doors to the heat outside. “A taxi please,” Tansy asked of the doorman with a flash of that charming smile. “I’m going to Bran Castle.”

[Cookies Ahoy]

DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 8:10 am
LOCATION: Rasnov, Romania

Romania wasn’t a bad place for work. The main problem was that there always seemed to be a police officer that liked to abuse his powers. Usually to get his way into a private party or meeting for one reason or another, and generally they got what they wanted. Last night had been an exception though. What the corrupt officer ended up getting was a broken nose, a broken collar bone, and several bruises. Guardian Security Services had been hired as security for the private party for some young spoiled teenager at a popular ballroom in Rasnov. TJ Hunt had happened to be pulling security in the back when the corrupt officer tried to force his way inside. Needless to say, both the men were spending the night in a Rasnov’s dirty little prison.

TJ found it funny that he got a cop sent to twenty four hours solitary confinement. For TJ, the stay wasn’t too bad. He slept most of the time in his cell, then performed a modified version of his workout since he was missing weights. By the time he was released, all charges were dropped, the dirty cop was looking at jail time, and TJ was sentenced to a week of forced vacation. Things could have been worse, but the bonus the was written to GSS for keeping the rich family’s party safe was more than enough to keep TJ’s record clean and keep his boss happy. In TJ’s mind everyone won.

The police car dropped him off at his apartment, despite his protests that they should take him to his truck at the ballroom. He entered his messy apartment and threw his GSS shirt into the pile of clothes nearby his entrance way, then went to his fridge and grabbed a carton of milk. As he walked through his small apartment he drank from the carton, until it was half empty and his shower had warmed up past freezing cold to nippy. TJ returned the milk to the fridge and cleaned himself up. In less than ten minutes he was out the door and dressed in a pair of brown cargo shorts, his trusty old Nike’s, and a white graphic tee of one of his favorite bands growing up, Anberlin.

Locking his door, TJ began to jog through the halls and down the steps of his apartment. He was on the street and making good time to his truck, when he started to think what he would do with his newly assigned ‘Free Time’. The local club scene sucked in Rasnov, especially mid-day, and TJ didn’t care much for drinking anyway. Rasnov was a pretty boring town, but it reminded him of his hometown in a way, not by the size, but how quiet it was generally.

There’s that castle in Bran that looked kind of cool when I passed by the other day. I've never been inside a castle before. I could go see what that’s all about after I get my truck... Gotta get that little number quick though.

Getting to his truck at the ballroom before it was towed was his main priority. If it got impounded, the police might start asking questions. Questions like, “Where’d you get this unregistered firearm?”

That wouldn’t be good. He had bought the gun in America, and had it shipped over as parts with some of his other personal belongings when he had first gotten to Romania, then he never got around to registering it. That was more almost two years ago. TJ began sprinting.




DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 9:43 am
LOCATION: Rasnov, Romania

Luckily for TJ, he reached his truck before there was any sign of a tow truck. He unlocked it and turned the ignition. The welcome breeze of air conditioning pounded his skin that was beginning to bead with sweat.

After a few seconds of relaxation, TJ silently ran his hand underneath his seat fingering his way around the undercarriage in search of his illegal treasure. His heart sank for a few moments when he couldn’t feel anything. Then he remembered that he put the gun under the passenger seat. He leaned over and hefted the pistol from under the seat and quickly holstered it on his holster that was hidden beneath his shorts after making sure it wasn’t ready to fire.

With a huge sigh of relief, TJ said to his black pickup, “Let’s go find ourselves a castle...” he put the truck in first and slowly rolled out of the parking lot, shifting gears as he went across the valley.

[Kris]

DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 15:00
LOCATION: near the State Historical Museum, Moscow, Russia


Cassandra felt the urgency in Sarina's voice the moment both her and Terence had rested enough and woke up in Cassandra's room (Which Sarina thought was exactly how it looked like back when both of them lived together in another country). Sarina pleaded her to take them both into the new Museum she mentioned.

Cassandra walked back and forth trying to understand the importance of the Museum that she herself had mentioned in their previous online talk. Cassandra decided to talk Sarina out of it for now, in order for them both to spend some more time sightseeing, after all, the whole Museum talk was just a nice bait to lure her best friend to visit her and have some quality time together.

Sarina apologized and without giving much of a clear reason convinced her friend to take both her and Terence into that place. As they packed themselves and got ready to leave, Sarina recalled the recent events; The flight was rather nice, although she had no idea why the machines kept beeping at her and Terence whenever they passed under the security check. (Broken stupid toy... They almost missed their plane because of it...).

Once they landed in Russia and stepped outside, Sarina felt the wind hitting her body, caressing her face and moving strips of black hair along with it. The weather was nice however (about 19°C) which surprised her. Sure it was August, but she always pictured Russia as land full of ice.

She spotted Cassandra almost at once (Cassandra was one of those types of people that never change their appearance; thin tall girl with straight light brown hair) and the two kissed on the cheeks (both sides) and hugged like crazy screaming and flattering each other (Cassandra told Sarina she lost some weight but Sarina didn't believe her). Cassandra made the two follow her back to her apartment and was the one to do most of the talking (Sarina enjoyed the stories of her old friend and Terence was just... well... quiet anyway). Cassandra wondered who Sarina's companion was and asked about him, but (and as Sarina expected) her interest was silenced the moment Sarina said that Terence was a good friend from work (Cassandra was far more fascinated by the idea of talking about the most important subject in the world: herself).

Exchanging information on the way, Sarina told her briefly about the life on the island and Cassandra said that she cut connections with most of their friends (which was okay with her). Both her and Sarina, it appeared, never wanted to dwell in the past or have any link to it after the horrible events which were the main reason they both were separated from one another to begin with. Cassandra asked about Sarina's health, and was rather surprised to learn that she was doing great, considering she was the one to experience such critical damages and wounds.

(Terence appeared to be lost at that point. He was obviously curious to know what the two girls were talking about, but he probably found it rude to disturb them or maybe he just didn't wish to draw any attention to him).

Sarina took a deep breath of this new surroundings. She found herself excited and terrified at the same time. The fact that her physical appearance was very different from the others around her fed her mixed feelings. Marching along the street of the Red Square they come upon an impressive looking red building, a castle size; "State Historical Museum", the sign said.

Sarina quickly grabbed her camera, taking pictures of everything she could. She was sure this was the place they were heading to, but was surprised to find out they continued on, passing it, leaving the wonderful building behind.

After some more walking they come upon another, much smaller building. (which was still rather huge).

"Here we are!", Cassandra pointed at the place with a smile.


***

DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 15:30
LOCATION: Museum, Moscow, Russia

This place appeared to be more of a science fiction exhibit than an actual Museum. All the displays were pictures of what said objects would look like once placed upon. There was a lot of information about myths and legends and possible connections to that "new cult" they found in their digging, but Sarina didn't understand why everything was presented in theory (aka papers and drawing) rather than actual objects: like tools and jars.

The only real thing to be presented was a human skeleton which had some remarkable different bones set than what she remembered the human body should have.

She snapped some pictures and once she was done she turned around to find Cassandra talking to the guard (possibly the same one who told her about the selling of the object with the star symbol?), but Terence was no-where to be found.

She removed herself from the skeleton and looked around, passing some corners to find a man standing behind a picture. He was probably able to sense her for he turned around quickly and looked at her with anger as if she was bothering him or worst.

Sarina flinched, "Sorry... I didn't mean to...-!", her eyes landed upon another picture which showed the exact same diagram of the star. She looked back at the man again and noticed his hand which was holding a silver necklace. A medallion swirled with no hold along it.

"This!", she gasped as she identified the shape of the medallion. The man frowned and turned to leave.

"Wait!", she called after him, not sure if he understood her or not. She couldn't have let him get away. She walked as quickly as she could (not wishing to run in the halls of a Museum) but still lost him.

"How was he able to disappear!?"

Something landed beside her. A postcard with an image of 4 men dressed up in weird dresses and white makeup. Her eyes landed upon the writing on it, but she could only understand the English part:

Tonight's show, "The Maids" ("SLUZHANKI"). Roman Viktyuk’s staging of Jean Genet’s play about maids acting out their secret desires and fantasies. Performed by an all-male cast. Roman Viktyuk's absurd Theater. Theater Yunogo Zritelya. 7 p.m.


***

DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 19:00
LOCATION: Theater Yunogo Zritelya, Moscow, Russia


So here he was, standing upon the stage, dressed in nothing but a black heavy clothing to hide his legs and lower torso. If it weren't for the other abstract getup (hence the name of the theater?!) it might have looked pretty decent, something like a samurai attire just before finishing dressing up.

http://cartis.israelshow.co.il/pictures/10231.jpg

He looked up and his eyes pierced the audience through a mask of white powder and long eyes. His hair was picked up tightly, giving him the look of a bald man. He smiled for some reason (unlike the others) which caused his makeup mask to break at some points as wrinkles were visible. Sarina couldn't understand why he would act so carefree while the others looked so focused and furious. The cue for the music to start was given, and the man proudly lifted up his chin and slowly reduced his smile as he seemed to be melting into the music and the show. He was now an actor, a player in this game, nothing more. His self awareness was canceled almost at once as he turned to do his role.

Sarina read about this play by Roman Viktiuk: “The Maids”. She knew that back in 1988 the play was considered an outrageous and not just because Vikituk made all the female characters be played by men. The show was many things; a mix of being nothing and everything, theatre in a sense of not being one to begin with. The show bear no limits of feelings and emotions and was played with no borders.

http://cartis.israelshow.co.il/pictures/10234.jpg

The music was not the kind Sarina expected, but the plot was very grasping: a Matron and her ladies (As stated before, all men) showing themselves within the present of the stage, only to create havoc of twisted passion between reality and a dream once the high heeled "lady of the house" no longer shared the light of the stage.

In one level, a dangerous game of right and wrong in the absent of the master, and on another level a fulfillment of desires. All is allowed, nothing is amiss.

To Sarina this sensation of freedom was something out of this world. She was sure the others, or at least most of the crowd that sat beside her (Cassandra included) couldn't understand it like she did: despite the modern music, despite the ridiculous getups and what seemed to be a meaningless dancing and movement, Sarina could absorb the plot and the lack of morals into her.

How alluring this freedom from the reins; Be yourself and never giving in to what is expected of you and what the society wishing you to be. Especially now... Now of all times... when there was more within her that she ever wished to have or know about. The world was changing and she was allowed to escape her masters for a short while. She should use this time wisely. She didn't know how or why, but she knew the star was part of it (and for that she waited eagerly for the show to end).

Time flew by and the actors bowed as the lights were turned off. She, however, caught a quick glimpse of her actor, the man she sought after, and was sure, in that quick second that no other normal human could notice, that he was staring directly at her through his hawk-like makeup eyes.

***

Before anyone else could Stand Sarina was on her feet. She dashed for the corners of the stage for she knew she didn't had much time. She had to talk to this man. She hoped Cassandra was following for she needed someone to be her mediator and translate when needed. Security guy spread his arms and tried to stop her mere inches before climbing upon the stage.

"Wait!", she called after the man.

The other players were already behind the curtains but the man she longed to speak with halted in place.

"Wait!", she called in Russian (remembering that this was the word for it). She took another moment of thinking and then called: "The star" ("Zvezda") yet again, in Russian.

He turned his head and half of his upper body to meet her, his ribs were visible under his impressive muscular body build as he rested his hands upon his hips which gave him a look of prideful peacock (minus the tail). He half smiled as wrinkles appeared over his makeup again, "You did well to follow me, let us meet again", he said.

"I don't understand", Sarina said in Russian.

The man laughed (with a very arrogant tune), "Let us meet again soon, if you truly wish to know about the star that is...Seek a place which was built like one... art type of way..."

And he turned around and left, the shadows eating him alive. Sarina didn't mind the eyes that turned to look at her from every corner of the room (She was sure even Cassandra was unpleased with her; Not only was she different by her appearance, but now even her behavior marked her as an outsider). Nothing else mattered now. She had a lead again.

She wasn't sure what the man was saying, but she was able to pick up some words including the word "Star". He was the one she was looking for and now she had to figure out how to continue from there.

"What did he say?", Sarina asked.

"What this whole star deal, Sarina, you kinda freak me-..."

"Never mind that!!! What did he say?"

"Sarina!", Cassandra said noticing the people that gathered around them, "I think we should go... Let us speak elsewhere".

And the three marched outside, the guards more than happy to see them off the place.

[Rook]

Date: August 20th
Time: 12:30
Location: Guiliana's room, Casa del Mar

Lance sat listening to Guiliana's explanation of their current situation with near deaf ears. It wasn't that he had no concern with her and what she had to say, but he certainly had bigger things on his mind.

“-to go East, to the Sacred Valley."

Lance's attention was roused at the mention of the Sacred Valley. He wasn't big on history, culture, or Geography. But what he did know was that any place with a name like that was very likely rooted in culture. And based on the fact that whatever it was he was here to find was very likely an important relic of this place's culture, his interest was suddenly undevided.

"I say we get some tamales and hit the museum. Any objections?”

Lance opened his mouth to respond, but Stephanie beat him to it.

“I think I’m going to lay down for a bit, if that is okay”

As she walked off down to her room, Lance leaned forward to watch her go. Something seemed to be amiss with her, but he wasn't sure what. Though one could glean that it may have something to do with the fact that she had just spent the entirety of a plane ride in the cargo hold of a plane in a cat carrier. That would wear anyone out very fast. As she shut the door, Lance leaned back with a shrug.

“Well, looks like it's just you and me then.” He said, standing up from his seat and rolling his shoulders and neck loosening up from the long flight which he had slept through for the most part. “Unless of course you were looking forward to a nap before we go, in which case, I'm game for that as well.” he concluded, extremely subtle, innuendo in his tone, sneaky to the point where one couldn't accuse him of making a pass without setting themselves up for a swift, believable denial. Taking one long final drag and snuffing the butt of his expended smoke in the ash tray, he waited for her answer on their next course of action.

[Mysteria]

The plane ride, as cramped as it was since their flight had needed to be changed at the last minute, had passed to Shiloh what had seemed to be relatively quickly. Despite the presence of small, and at times rather annoying children Shiloh didn't seem to mind and could only attribute it to the fact that she was on the plane with Isaac. While they had talked as quietly as they could and still be able to hear each other over the children's chatter around them, she still worried that it was too soon for Isaac to be making this trip. Even if he didn't completely look like he'd been through hell, surely he had to still be tired.

Slipping her hand into his she said "Are you sure you're feeling well enough to make this journey with me, Isaac." Shiloh smiled at him, but it was laced with concern. "I'm glad you came along, but I don't want you to feel worn out either" her finger rubbed the back of his hand lightly as she spoke.



DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: Noon
LOCATION: Cairo, Egypt

They'd barely touched down in Cairo and gathered their belongings when a driver sent by Professor Langdon presented himself, finding them via the recent picture that she'd sent to the professor so they'd know who to look for. The driver introduced himself as Amar and within moments they were speeding on their way to meet with Professor Langdon. Amar said over his shoulder as he drove "Memphis is not far Ms. Thompson." From the back seat, Shiloh thanked him "Thank you Amar, please let us know when we are close." Amar laughed then "Oh you will know, Miss, the ruins, they lie everywhere. Where the professor is, is not far."

Shiloh sat in the back of the car, her eyes taking in the countries scenery and realizing just how different this country was from her own as she filled Isaac in on Professor Thomas Langdon. She produced a photo from her wallet of her father with the good professor which was about twenty years old. "I was a little girl when he last saw me, I'm certain he won't recognize me now. If it weren't for the photo's I've seen of him in Archeology magazines, I am afraid I probably wouldn't recognize him either!" Shiloh laughed softly "Although to be honest, he really hasn't seemed to age that much, other than his jet black hair is now streaked heavily with gray but he still seems to have that look of happiness in his eyes when I see his pictures."

For a moment Shiloh became reflective, thinking about the fact that she hadn't actually seen the professor since her parents passing. Enough of time had passed though, that she hoped to share the good memories with him and not let the visit be overshadowed by her past. And Isaac was here with her now. Reaching over Shiloh took his hand and fell silent. Even here in Egypt, so far from home everything felt like it was as it should be for the first time in years.

With the warmth of his hand wrapped around hers, and his blue eyes smiling at her, everything felt like it was right.

[Ad Infinitum]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 4:45am
Location: Zarnesti, Romania

Gihst woke up in a cold sweat. He groaned, a grimace creasing his features as he hoisted himself to sit on the edge of the mattress, draping his forearms over his knees in a slump. The blocky red numbers on the digital clock read 4:45 am. Two hours, he could work with that. He reached out blindly for the nightstand in the dark. His fingertips bumped cold glass, soft dust, then found an unfinished cigarette from the heap of filters in the ashtray. The black-papered Djarum was ferried to his thin lips and canted to the flame of an old Zippo, the aroma of cloves peppering that atmosphere of Lysol and old wood. He leaned his gaunt cheek to the heel of his palm, heavy lids closing over tired eyes that had yet to regain their focus, as his groggy mind drifted away from the small motel room to revisit his dreams.

The dream always had intense colors, all sound muffled by heavy breathing, as brief glimpses of images danced in and out of the center of a wildly darting tunnel of vision. Most of what he strained to remember always managed to slip through his grasp like sand, save one exception – that gothic castle, pushing up from a verdant wood like a bloody tooth anchored in green gums. He had recognized it as Dracula's castle, as portrayed in those grainy black-and-white films from the 1930s with shakespearean acting and doll-faced flapper women. Initially he wrote off these dreams as nothing more than a result of late night b-movies, but when they persisted into a nightly routine, he began to question. He had read about remote viewing and precognitive dreams – wild theories reserved for the tabloids rather than rational society. But albeit all the crackpots showboating phony psychic powers, nowadays he wasn't so certain.

A wracking pain split his skull; it was a complaint from his brain for having to work so prematurely through a hangover. He was going to be sick.

Gihst clambered for the bathroom, bare feet squeaking upon the tile as he shouldered through the cracked door. He made it to the edge of the sink just as he began to heave, palms slamming down to balance him over the porcelain basin. His naked shoulders bucked above the harsh coughs that wracked him, but when they ultimately proved fruitless, he growled to fend off the waves of nausea as he spat at the drain. Something tasted bitter, like sucking on an old copper coin; he begrudgingly knew it was his conscious. After a few moments of meditative breathing, Gihst knitted his brow and scowled, staggering towards the tub in prospect of a cold shower...

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 5:30am
Location: Soseaua Branului (Bran Road), one mile south of Zarnesti.


“Ce ai nevoie?” The old man squinted out the window, his weak voice crackling as he fought against the drone of the old pickup truck he drove. There was an angry dog in the passenger seat that clearly disliked strangers. The old man had a face creased by age, weather, and toil; he was a farmer. Gihst knew without thinking about it that the brown flecks on his teeth was chewing tobacco.

It had been a half an hour since he left that shanty motel after a brief study of a road map to regain his bearings. Now he stood out in a downpour perusing a battered paperback, fat droplets of rain pattering off his leather long coat like a drum skin. The fabric of his hood had soaked up the rain like a sponge and dripped steadily; it made smoking doable, shielding that smoldering cigarette between his teeth in its shadow. At length Gihst looked up, the opaque lenses of his goggles staring out soullessly on his stony features.

“...calatorie, Bran, saizeci leu...” He rasped, hunching over to lower his height to eye level.

The old man rolled his tongue in the cheek opposite of the tobacco wad as he peered down the road ahead, gauging. Gihst knew Bran was only another three miles down the road, no more than a ten minute drive as opposed to another two hours of walking. The old man knew it too, he would bite for sixty bucks no questions asked. After a slow nod and a glance to the dog beside him, he squinted back up at Gihst.

“Treizeci leu.” The old man jabbed a bony thumb at the truck bed...

[Aheris]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 12:35 PM
Location: Guiliana's room, Casa Del Mar

Stephanie made her way into another room...which Guiliana was not surprised about anyway. That had been a rather long flight, under rather unpleasant conditions.

The living area of the suite was on the small side. There was just enough room for a small, cherry-wood coffe table, a worn brocade-fabric couch, and a Mission-style chair by the window. The loosely textured stucco walls were painted a forest green, with all the chipped trim painted white.

They had also reserved the room next door for Guiliana's father, and she had picked up the key for him on their arrival. She'd had to tell the front desk that he would be arriving late, which normally wouldn't pass elsewhere. But here, life seemed to move a little slower. Since cleaning service would be in tomorrow morning for the room, he wouldn't know the difference if someone else slept there for the time being.

At least this way, no one will really have known "Stephanie" made passage. Hopefully.

"Unless of course you were looking forward to a nap before we go, in which case, I'm game for that as well."

Guiliana heard the slight innuendo in his voice, or thought she did at least. She looked at him silently, gazing from his dark jeans to his stubbed-out cigarette. As the smell of the tobacco reached her in another wave, she pulled out her own pack from her garnet-colored leather bag. Then she pressed the cigarette to her lips, which were lightly staining the filter with their pinot-noir colored stain. She walked again to the window, lighting the cigarette with a smooth gesture.

The curiosity was tugging at the corner of her mind, but Guiliana clenched her jaw. He was interesting. For all his average clothing, and mannerisms, something was other. The brightness of the green in his eyes, the way that he talked...Guiliana felt like he was certainly hiding something.

Outwardly, she was focused on the activity on the street: Tourists walking in their obvious manner, the occasional teenager on their bike, cars passing leisurely.

I don't know him. That could be too close, to fast to avoid... She had her reasons why she didn't often get involved with people, especially men (Despite them being most certainly her taste). This trip had been an exception because she knew that Stephanie shared something with her. Whether or not it was for the same reasons, they were both hiding parts of themselves---trying to camoflauge their nature. Guiliana wasn't big on sympathy, but this meant something to her. And Lance..who knew what he was in this for?


I'm just going to play it like I didn't hear that tone. I think he'd deny it anyway, if I put him to it.


"Hmm. Neither of us has had much sleep in the past couple days. But I am hungry. The museums will close around seven tonight, I'm guessing. So maybe a compromise then? Lunch, we stop back here for a short nap...then go out again when it cools off."

Guiliana paused, hoping that the smoke and the sea would relax her or wake her up. Neither were really likely. There was the other nagging thought: She didn't know how she was going to explain the extra company to her father. That is, if he didn't become extremely loud, red faced, and angry before she could get two words out. Dad, you're making it worse for yourself, being such a stereotypical Italian father. This would either make it likely that Stephanie would reprise her role as "Snowflake" or that she would have to tell him a big story. A really big story.

Facing Lance again, she forced as straight a face as she could manage. With good luck, he'd take this either at face value, or as the joke she really meant.

"Unless you're feeling like eating something other than tamales."

[Randomlogic]

“Everything alright?”

Blue eyes flickered from the floor to the flight attendant standing next to his seat, Isaac breathing deeply, giving the younger woman a tired smile. She must’ve been in her early twenties from the looks of her, brunette hair rolled tightly in a bun behind her head, thin rimmed glasses resting gently on the bridge of her nose. Her name tag was difficult to read in the dim cabin light, but he was able to make it out easy enough. “Everything is great, Samantha,” His thoughts wandered back to Sam, his dog. Arrangements had been made for Eric to take care of her while he was away, but still, he couldn’t help but feel a small tinge of worry. He and the dog hadn’t been separated since they’d arrived on the island, and certainly not for this distance. Was that sad? “Thank you.”

She nodded, turning her attention to the sleeping Shiloh, her head resting comfortably against his shoulder, then back to him. “If you need anything, either of you, just let me know.”

“I will; thanks,” Isaac squeezed Shiloh’s hand gently, her fingers laced through his. He placed his head against the top of hers, his lips pressing softly against her hair, careful not to disturb her. There was a sting of guilt that accompanied the kiss, knowing full well that he’d lied to her over the course of their….well, their relationship; he supposed their was little else to call it. To top it all off, he’d nearly killed himself, and what was worse, a friend had died moments before that. But he couldn’t tell anyone about it, and certainly not her. Instead it had been a malfunction with the machinery, and the body of Craig Danielson was apparently missing from the scene, far too convenient of a cover-up, but one he didn’t want to think about. “Jesus Christ,” He muttered, his fingers pressing into the edges of his eyes, the stress weighing down on him heavily. So much had happened in such a short amount of time, yet it felt like the past few days spanned an eternity.

Isaac shifted in his seat, turning from Shiloh to press his face against the window next to his seat, drawing in another deep breath. The dark of the plane cabin was comforting, a welcome relaxation that allowed his thoughts to wander. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he was generally somewhat scared of the dark, and in all fairness, he had good reason to be. Since his accident, however, his thoughts and nightmares had calmed. He could still feel something swimming beneath his thoughts, like a breeze passing beneath the sheets of a bed, just rippling the surface. Everything had been fantastic for…well, he it was only a couple of days since the accident, but it’d all been quiet. Still, a migraine now pounded away at his head, almost threatening to tear his skull in two. Groaning once more, he turned, gently shifting Shiloh off of his shoulder. He paused momentarily when she stirred in her sleep, waiting until she’d stopped moving to rise from his seat and step gently over her legs, heading for the bathroom, just rows away from where the pair had been placed. He glanced into the other seats as he passed, thankful that the squalling children from earlier had fallen asleep as well.

He quietly entered the small compartment of a bathroom, turning on the sink and carefully splashing water in his face. Isaac hesitated to look up, not wanting to see the reflection he’d seen before, black fluid filling the basin and threatening to drag him under. Taking a deep breath, Isaac glanced up.

Nothing.

Nothing but his own reflection greeted him and for once he was grateful to see the lines of fatigue and apparent age that traced down his cheeks, running a hand through his short, unkempt blonde hair. Isaac winced as pain stabbed at him once more, the migraine growing more intense, attempting to shake his head and clear away the pain. “Keep it together, bud,” He insisted, lifting away from the sink and running his hands over his face. “Doing good so far, just, keep it together.”

The moment Isaac left the bathroom, his breath caught in his chest, a sickening feeling filling his stomach. The nausea threatened to overwhelm him, but he choked it down, feeling the speed of his heart pick up in his chest. It was subtle, but he could see it pooling out from under the seats of the plane, thick oil that curled and wrapped around the legs of the chairs, a dull hiss pervading the air. “Should’ve lasted longer,” He whispered in the darkness, swallowing hard. “This shouldn’t be happening.”

“But it is,” A voice responded, the sound hollow and flat. There was little emotion to it, almost as though it was barely a voice at all. Beneath it, however, the drone of other voices hummed in unison, like a choir raising a dirge. “And be grateful that it’s only a dream, Isaac.” Isaac strained his eyes in the darkness, attempting to make out a person, a form, or anything that would hint to the speaker. The voice was familiar…something he’d heard a million times, but this time it was more…solid, stronger than it’d ever had been before. “Come now, don’t be shy – I believe you and I need to have a little chat.”

Isaac took a step forward, looking towards the aisle closest to him and instantly regretting it. The children who’d been sitting behind them earlier were now dead; their bodies slumped against their parents. Veins filled with the black fluid were visible beneath their pale skin, the tainted water pumping through their bodies, distending the flesh as it worked through their system. Occasionally the thick substance would snake out of their mouths, webbing together, creating a cocoon around the family that slowly ate away at them, the mother and father already partially digested. Isaac hesitated once more, forcing himself to tear his eyes away, instead trying to focus on the walkway, ignoring the tendrils of the ooze that snaked across his feet as he passed. Try as he might, he couldn’t ignore the inside of the plane, the walls that now were laced with the blight that had infected the children. It almost seemed as if the vessel was breathing, the flesh-like coating pulsing and oozing with open sores. The urge to vomit nearly overwhelmed him, but still, he pushed forward, a near unbearable cold washing over his body and threatening to freeze the blood in his veins. “W-where are you?” He managed to force out, his breath visible in front of his face as he spoke.

“This way, Isaac,” The voice caught his attention, Isaac looking to his left to see Shiloh barely standing out of one of the aisle’s. No, not Shiloh – already knew it was a nightmare, or at least, something akin to that. Still, for all intents and purposes, she was an exact replica, her well-toned frame covered thinly in a loose black slip that barely covered her body, leaving little to the imagination. “Do you like it?” She’d caught him looking, a smile tugging at the edge of her lips. “You can have this, if you’d like. You can have anything you want…all you have to do is say yes.” When he didn’t respond, her smile merely broadened, moving out from the oil and into the walkway. As she moved forward, he followed, her hand patting on her leg as if to summon him like faithful dog. As they moved forward, Isaac’s mind raced. Generally when he had these…episodes, they were instant, unfeeling and brutal with their message. But this was different; this was something that was far more…personal than anything had been before.

“It had to be personal, Isaac,” The nameless voice spoke again, a hint of disappointment creeping in this time. As they walked, the floor seemed to expand, leading wider than should have been possible, looking to be more and more of an abyss. “Now, just a little closer; you’re almost there.” There was a pause and for a moment, Isaac lost sight of Shiloh, his heart catching in his chest. The room was impossibly dark, his eyes straining to see anything at all. Still the cold persisted through, the feeling in his hands long gone, his feet even more numb, his body shuddering as something unseen continued to crawl around his legs, no doubt the oil from before. “There, now was that so bad?” Isaac turned, forcing his face to remain flat as he did so. Sitting behind him was something that he could describe as nothing other than himself, a younger, healthier version of himself; the lines and bags of sleepless nights erased from his face. A dazzling white smile flashed out from the doppelganger as Shiloh entered once more, taking a seat on his lap, his hand wrapping around her waist.

“Who are you?” Isaac asked, his voice soft and tinged with doubt.

“You know who I am – you can use my name.”

Isaac couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man, his throat dry and pained. It looked perfectly like him, dressed in a brilliant white suit, a stark contrast to the twisted black throne he was placed in. Unlike Isaac, however, he wore no shoes and instead his feet were stained with the oil that Isaac had seen so many times, tendrils of it occasionally moving beneath the fabric and snaking out the arms and neck of the suit.

“No?” He continued when Isaac hesitated. “Very well, let’s think of a different one. You’ll be Isaac, and I’ll be…oh, what’s a name I like…Howard. That isn’t a very threatening name at all, is it? You can call me Howard.”

“What do you want?”

“What do I want…?” Despite the childish nature he displayed, Isaac could feel the underlying malice coursing through every word.

“What…what do you want, Howard?”

“There’s a good boy,” He continued, “Now; it would seem that with enough prodding, you’re headed into keeping your end of the deal…or at least part of it.” Isaac was silent, so he wasted no time in waiting for a response. “You’re at least headed to a relic, so there’s that.” He smiled when a brief flash of confusion flickered over Isaac’s features. “Trust me; you’ll know it when you see it. The reason you and I are having this little chat is that…I’m starting to sense some doubts. You’ve been ignoring me, Isaac, and I don’t quite appreciate that. Now, I don’t expect you to listen to me all the time, certainly when you’re paired up with your…delicious…companion,” His eyes flickered up to the apparition of Shiloh seated next to him. “But you could spare a little bit of attention, couldn’t you?”

“What do you want.” It was more of a statement than a question, his jaw tensing. He refused to allow his body to shudder in the cold, attempting to remain unflinching, even in the pain.

“All business, are we?” He paused, the smile fading slightly. “Very well, then let’s get down to business. Have your desires changed, is that the sudden weakness, Isaac?”

“No.”

“No?” He glanced from Isaac to Shiloh, quirking a brow. “Well, that’s surprising. Then what is it?”

“It’s nothing; I’m just…not ready, yet.”

“Neither am I, but it’s taken you this long to look for the relics? We had a deal, you and I, and the due date was over I long time ago.”

Isaac set his jaw, his attention falling to the darkness of the floor briefly.

“Now, I understand, that your body is much…weaker than it used to be, perhaps more than you know, but that was something that we talked about. I warned you that this wouldn’t be pleasant, that this would be…difficult for you, that your body and your mind would suffer. But you agreed to this…arrangement with a certain understanding,” He slowly and methodically, the drone of voices ever humming beneath his own. “Now, do we still have an understanding, or do I need to make other arrangements?”

“We…still have an understanding.”

“Good,” He hissed. “Now, we’re running out of time, but I’m going to leave you with a warning, Isaac, and I do hate to have to bring it to this.” Isaac locked eyes with him as he rose from his seat, Shiloh walking to lean against the edge of the throne. The being that had dubbed itself Howard leaned forward, his face inches away from his own. “You’ll get me what I want, you’ll say yes, and the transaction will be complete – and Isaac? If you don’t, I’ll kill them again, and again, and again. And then?” He turned, pointing a finger to Shiloh. “I’ll kill the bitch. Now wake up.”


* * *


"Are you sure you're feeling well enough to make this journey with me, Isaac." Shiloh smiled at him, but it was laced with concern. He’d blanked out, right in the middle of their conversation, the loss of time scratched at the back of his mind as he struggled to remember anything. "I'm glad you came along, but I don't want you to feel worn out either." Her finger rubbed the back of his hand lightly as she spoke.

Isaac leaned forward, planting a quick kiss on her lips, silencing her fears. It was a painful shift from the staggering darkness he’d experienced before to find himself in a well lit cabin, the sun light streaking through the window next to his seat. Still, even shaken as he was, he wasn’t going to let her worry. Part of him was just happy to see her, fully clothed and worried; all the qualities about her very…human. Zoned out, though? He hadn’t even been asleep, but then…the time he’d spent in his nightmare had lasted perhaps a second, maybe two? “I’m fine,” Isaac insisted, squeezing her hand gently in return. Whether or not she believed him was unknown to him, but it seemed to sate her, and the subject changed quickly enough. They spoke quietly for the remainder of the flight, doubt and fear gnawing at the back of his mind. What had he done?



DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 12:15 PM
LOCATION: Cairo, Egypt


Isaac sat quietly as Shiloh and the driver spoke, Shiloh reflecting momentarily on the memories of her friend, his own thoughts taken elsewhere. Attempting to shove the doubt from his mind, he changed his attention from the window to her as she took his hand, their fingers slipping together. She seemed somewhat at peace with it, and he offered her a gentle smile, attempting to tell her that everything would be alright. But how could he say that when she didn’t even know that something was wrong? The whispers in the back of his head nudged gently, reminding him of everything that had happened in the years past. Everything that would be repeated, should he make any other choice than the “right” one. It felt as though something inside of him was breaking, but still, the mask of calm resolve would remain up – he couldn’t let her worry, to do so would risk dragging her into something that she wouldn’t be able to understand.

Isaac squinted out the window behind her, taking in the sights and sounds as they continued forward. “I’m going to warn you right now,” He commented with a soft grin, breaking the pause of silence between them. “I’ve never done anything like this before, and while I have high hopes, if we unleash any kind of mummy curse on the world, the chances are I’ll blame you for it, I just thought you should know. I don’t trust any of this.”

His world was falling apart from the inside out, but for now, all he would do was salvage what pieces he still had left.

[~N~]

DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 1:30 PM
LOCATION: Memphis, Egypt

"Max Miller..." the elderly British gentlemen said with a smirk that was barely visible through his white beard and mustache. "I haven't seen hide nor hair of you in ages! The years haven't been kind to you..." Dr. Ashton started in on Mr. Miller the moment he laid eyes upon him, laughing with a raspy voice at his own fun.

"I should've known you'd be here, digging among the bones, Harold," Miller replied. "I've never known you to engage in anything profitable."

"I care more about our history as a people than about money, Max," Harold replied. "I thought you'd have figured that out by now." The lean, codgy old man shook his head and adjusted his spectacles. "Which also raises the obvious question of why you are here," he continued, his bushy eyebrows rising, as he pointed a finger at his new acquaintance, "Though perhaps you're looking to dig yourself out of the hole you've gotten into since the American government had their way with your company."

That shot hit a little too close to home, and Max narrowed his eyes, which seemed almost to glow for a moment with a pale blue light, as he stepped menacingly towards the Brit, "My company is still around and still making discoveries and profit, Harry. Just not as publicly as before..."

"You still haven't answered the question, Max," Dr. Ashton replied. "And you still haven't introduced the young lady standing beside you."

This put Mr. Miller off, but he decided to let this fight go--for now--and with appropriate fanfare, introduced his assistant archaeologist, "Sarah, this is Harold Ashton; Harold, this is Sarah Richards, my own beautiful and knowledgeable assistant about the sorts of things that interest you."

"Sarah Richards... yes, I do recall your name! You worked on the project in the Western Isles of Scotland a few years back, putting together your theory of ... what was it? Something to do with ancient burial grounds?"

Sarah's eyes lit up at the recognition by this elder scholar and she nodded happily with a glimmering smile, "Yes, the burial customs of peoples in the British Isles and Scottish Isles and how they are connected and represented by the monuments of rocks that resemble such patterns as Stonehenge."

"Yes, yes! I thought that quite insightful to be honest. And here were are, now standing the burial grounds of people far more ancient than those of Britain... I imagine you're quite fascinated by this little adventure so far," Dr. Ashton said, playing to the lovely Miss Richards in his own way.

"Yes, I am, actually; it's so rare to be admitted this close to the ruins and to be able to work with such... reputable people as yourself, professor," she replied politely again, with a smile.

Dr. Ashton smiled back and nodded, stroking his beard. "So what brings you and... him here," he tilted his head towards Max, in a still digging manner.

"Ruins," Max replied through clenched teeth.

"Well, you've certainly come to the right place!" Harold replied quickly.

Sarah stepped forward again, getting between the "boys", and smiled, opening up her binder of materials, which included sketches and notes from her own research and Jennifer Maxwell's the lead archaeologist on the underground pyramid project in Alesia.

"What's this, hm?" the old professor replied, narrowing his eyes, adjusting his spectacles, and looking the documents over.

"It's a relic I..." Sarah paused and glanced at Max, who was nearly glaring at her now, "...we are trying to find. I have reason to believe it's here... somewhere... in Egypt."

"Because of its similarity to the eye hieroglyphs that the Egyptians put to use, the most famous of which was the Eye of Horus, among many others..."

"Is it here?" Max interjected, with equal parts anticipation and impatience.

"The hieroglyphs? Sure. They're all over," Harold replied with a smirk.

"This one is different. I believe, along with my colleagues, that this particular hieroglyph design indicates a genuine artifact..." Sarah explained.

"Like a real eye?" Dr. Ashton replied.

"Yes, or at least some kind of artifact that would represent that..."

"Hm..." the old man bowed his head in thought, stroking his beard.

"There is a place here we could check..." he added, "Have you considered Thebes?"

"I was going to go there next," Sarah replied with a nod.

Dr. Ashton nodded, thinking again. "Come with me..." he shot a warning glance at Max. "But I want your word... if I help you with this, it goes to the people, without profit..."

"Of course, Harry... that's why we came to you..." Max replied, narrowing his eyes after Dr. Ashton turned his back on him, satisfied with that answer. Sarah glanced at the sudden change in her boss's expression with concern on her own face before following Dr. Harold Ashton from the tent.

************************************************** ***********
DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 10 PM
LOCATION: En Route to Cachora, Peru.

When the even stars have faded
black into the sinking sands
of moments forgotten...
there will rise...
a wave all golden
crashing upon the shores
emboldening now the stirring
dreams upon the mount
that hidden seems when five are
from their sleeping seized
and placed upon their altar seats...

The first to reach, awakening
the breach through which
the flooding dreams
spill forth awash in global
torrent, the single tear
that drops the screen
from behind the glassy stream
seems at first a drop
to be, when awash with
visions the world will be...

Father Bernardo Francis thought back over the prophetic passage that he had just translated in the tome--no easy feat considering the language itself had no equivalent in modern languages. This alone fascinated him, and drove him on, sleeplessly, to translate as much of it as possible.

The sheer discovery of the words behind the translation, the possibility of holding the Teardrop in his hands, the value that it might have to the Church, to Humanity, the revolutionary thinking that could emerge from its recovery---all of that would've been enough to rob him of sleep and compel him to the ends of the earth...

"This world of sin... must be cleansed...."

"Yes, I know..." Father Francis clenched his eyes shut, pressing at his temples, the throbbing pain surging through his mind as he began rocking gently. "Why have you started speaking to me!"

"You will know soon enough..."

"When? I need to know now! What are you?!"

"Soon..."

"WHEN?! Ahhh!" the priest cried out as the bus hit giant pothole and threw its passengers around, slamming his head against the window hard enough to cause him to bleed.

When he brought his fingers away from his face, stained with blood, he thought he heard a whisper: "Unleash the flood... father..."

"God help me... Father in Heaven guide me..." he whispered, over and over, muttering as he pressed a cloth to his wound.

The bus continued on until it reached Cachora at midnight...

************************************************** **********
DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 7 PM
LOCATION: Cumae, Italy

"Is there something I can help you find?" a red-headed young woman spoke from the shadows as Jeremy Venture scanned the walls of the catacombs, searching for any traces of where to go next. He turned with a start. He was rarely startled by anything, and yet, this cave-dwelling guide (or whatever she was) had managed to sneak up on him without him even noticing.

"I was just... searching... for something," he replied, narrowing his eyes at her and taking off his sunglasses.

"Well, there's plenty of things to find down here, but normally we don't let tourists get this far," she replied, stepping from the shadows, her long red ponytail swinging loosely behind her. She was dressed in utilitarian clothing--work trousers, pale tan denim vest, dirty work shirt underneath, but her features were otherwise disarmingly alluring. Jeremy smirked. If the watch had to be of a particular sex, he considered himself fortunate that it was the opposite.

"So I'm going to ask you again," she said, approaching him with slow stalking steps, "What are you after that made you get lost all the way down here, searching the cave walls?" Now her eyes came into view, lit by the reddish streams of light provided by the dying sunlight.

They were stark pale around the pupils.

It stunned Jeremy into hesitation, as she drew closer, her gaze fixed on him. But then he recovered himself and bared his fangs, turning his power and gaze on her, "I think you can help me find what I'm looking for..."

She didn't stop. She didn't even flinch.

His eyes widened and he lashed out at her, grabbing hold her by the shoulder and pulling her towards him in the next moment to sink his fangs straight into her supple flesh.

And in the next whirling instant he found himself spun around and slammed against the cavern wall, dazed, his eyes widening, as before, while she whispered her dread words mere inches from his own lips, her pale gaze never leaving him:

"What you seek is not here. You must cross oceans and seas to find what you are looking for, and descend into the bowels of the Earth herself. Only then will you recover your prize..."

And then she slammed him again for good measure against the rock face.

As he slid down, his body undone by the unnatural force of the lithe being who stood over him, she tilted her head and finished her thought, "Or be buried with it..."

************************************************** **********
DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 11:30 PM
LOCATION: Bucharest, Romania

It had taken them all day, circulating her picture around to various hotels, and they had all but given up their search.

Gerald Brassier throw up his hands in frustration, "She had to have slept somewhere! Jesus Christ!"

"With all due respect, looking for one woman in a city like this could take days, sir," Agent Garrus replied, taking an unusually bold stand for once with his boss.

"No, goddamn it," Brassier replied with a vengeful glare. "She isn't staying here. She knows we're after her. Now get out there and find me something!"

"No need, boss!" Agent Sandler proclaimed, walking into the temporary HQ they had set up in the Grand Hotel on the sixth floor.

"Sandler, what've you got?" Brassier perked up.

"Just checked in with the Breller Hotel--just down the street if you can believe that," Sandler replied.

"Figures. What'd you find?"

"We were practically on top of her... well, would've been, if she had stayed longer than a single night."

"Shit. I thought we told the police around her to check the goddamn hotels nearest to the airport and fan out. How did they miss this one?"

Sandler shrugged. "Different shifts. The lobby staff we checked earlier in the day hadn't seen her, but one of the guys in evening shift that came on two hours ago just talked."

"What'd he say?"

"Says she left. Talked to the doorman about getting a cab."

"Where?"

"Well, that took some tracking down. I just got off the phone with him," Sandler replied.

"Looks like we're going to Bran Castle..."

"Tomorrow," Brassier answered.

"What?"

"I'm giving her a bit of time to think she's lost us. Let's build a our resources here. If she returns here to get a flight back, I want her caught. We need to make sure she can't slip past us again."

"But what if we lose her from here?" Agent Garrus questioned with a worried look on his face.

"We won't. She's not getting into the castle tonight. If that's where she's going, we can get out there and find out what she's going there for..."

"What makes you think she's going there for anything important? Maybe she thinks she's already lost us and is sightseeing," Sandler offered.

"No... she's not the type to come here for no reason. There's something there... and I don't just want to arrest and bring her back. I want to find out what it is she's after."

[Cookies Ahoy]

DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 9:51 am
LOCATION: Bran Castle, Romania

It was interesting to TJ that he could smell when he had left Rasnov. The air their felt dead and old. That wasn’t very odd though, considering how old the town really was. He rolled into the parking lot of Bran Castle in under ten minutes -TJ had a habit of driving over whatever the posted speed limit was.

Before leaving his truck, TJ pocketed his wallet and phone, along with letting his sunglasses hang from his front pocket. Most of this stuff had also been left in his truck the night before. Once he had his necessities, TJ locked the truck and started making his way to the castle entrance, curious as to what he would find.

His curiosity for what the castle would have in store for him was quickly subsided by a new found curiosity. A blonde haired curiosity that looked like she could even be American. He abruptly broke stride from his original path and began walking close to this young woman.

“Buna ziua domnisoara,” TJ said in broken Romanian as he walked alongside the woman -For living in Romania for almost two years, his grasp on their language wasn't the best- he then asked in English, "Are you an American by chance?"

Tansy's blue eyes rose from the brochure she was studying to meet the stranger's. It surprised her to feel relief at hear someone speaking English without a heavy accent. The man was on the short side, a bit edgy, but far from unattractive. She felt herself smile.

"Is it that apparent?" Tansy asked with a small laugh.

TJ smiled, then replied, "Kinda. I think it just takes one to know one, ya know?" he paused for a second, "Anyway, my names TJ Hunt," he said as he casually extended his arm towards the young woman for a handshake.

"Tansy James," the girl replied, taking his hand. "It's my first day here, and I was just trying to decide whether to take a guided tour or just wander around the castle by my lonesome."

Was she implying that she wanted TJ to go with her, or that she actually wanted to wander around by herself? Women were one thing that stumped TJ. He decided he'd just take the bait, whether it was for him or not.

TJ nodded, then thought his words out carefully, "Well Tansy, I'd hate for you to have to check out the castle by on your own. You wouldn't mind if I went with you, would you?"

Tansy smile brightened. "I would love that!" she exclaimed before leaning in a little closer to TJ. "You know," she continued in a lowered voice, "I'm sure it's a little silly, but I was thinking this place was a little too spooky to be all alone."

TJ's smile mimicked Tansy's, "Oh, well stick close to me Tansy and I think we'll both be just fine," he replied jokingly, trying not to sound like he was full of himself, "Now shall we?" TJ asked offering his hand again to his new tour partner.

"Perfect," she replied, taking his hand. Perhaps a distraction wouldn't be the best thing in the world at the moment, Tansy thought to herself. But in truth, she had been on edge after quickly fleeing to Romania. Every time she glanced over her shoulder, she had half expected to see that sour-faced doctor or the FBI agents who had burst into the hospital room. Maybe TJ was just what she needed to help her relax. Besides, a couple wandering around the dark castle would be less conspicuous than a single woman, just in case anyone might actually be looking for her...

Tansy mentally kicked herself. The paranoia had to stop. She had to get her mind off of her fears so she could focus on finding that blood stone. "So tell me about yourself, TJ," she said suddenly. "Where are you from?"

Scratching the back of his head as he walked with Tansy, TJ replied, "I'm from a small town in Oregon. Spent most of my life there, but eventually wound up joining the Marine Corps. I was honorably discharged two years ago, for medical reasons," TJ stopped for a second, as they began going up the steps of the castle, then started again, "A Marine buddy of mine told me about his friend's security company he was running out here called Guardian Security Services and he asked me if I'd be interested in working for him, and now I'm here. I guess you could say I'm just a washed up soldier now," TJ finished with a laugh, "What about you Tansy? Romania isn't exactly a vacation hotspot that people are lining up for."

"Well, maybe I can help change that," Tansy replied. "At least just a little. I'm a reporter for a travel magazine. We thought this castle might be good for our October issue."

She gave TJ a sideways glance as they walked. An ex-marine now working security? If anything was going to make her feel less apprehensive about the hospital incident, it just might be the man at her side. "You know, I thought you were just a friendly tourist. But this might be even better. Some insight from person who actually lives here might be interesting for our readers. Maybe you could tell me about some local secrets? Places most tourists might miss, things like that?"

TJ thought to himself for a bit. He really hadn't bothered to learn a lot about the country he had been living in for almost two years. Most of the facts he knew were picked up from coworkers and the few acquaintances he had made. To say the least, TJ kept to himself in this country.

"Well to be honest I don't know if I'm the best person to ask, but I can tell you that the bar scene and night life isn't much fun unless you're in the bigger cities. I don't go out for drinks much though, but I've heard from all the locals that the plum brandy here is pretty good. The food here is also pretty good, though some of it can be a little... different," TJ said unsure of what Tansy was really looking for.

He'd only read a few travel brochures, and that was just to pass the time on various flights. TJ wasn't a tourist, but he didn't consider himself a local either.

"Rasnov is a neat little town though. That's where I'm living right now, its only a couple miles from here. The place smells kinda dead, but the locals don't seem to notice. There's an old fortress and some other neat buildings there, but I haven't had much vacation days to explore much of Romania," TJ said casually as the two walked across the courtyard.

"Oh, that's where I'm staying! I just got in last night, though. I haven't explored it at all." The fact that she hadn't really planned on exploring the city was beside the point. Tansy paused before continuing. "I don't suppose you'll have much time to show me around though. You sound pretty busy."

"Actually, I've got the whole week off. So I could show you around if you want," TJ replied.

TJ smiled as he walked with Tansy. His week off seemed to have just gotten a lot better, that is, if she stuck around with him.

"Perfect." Tansy couldn't help but grin. It seemed that everything was going her way. Now all she had to do was find some clue in this castle about that blood stone.



Coop with Anne Bonny

[Mysteria]

DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 1:00 PM
LOCATION: Memphis, Egypt

In the back seat of the car Isaac’s fingers once again entwined in hers, the action both pleasing and comfortable to Shiloh and she couldn’t help but think how easy it was to be around Isaac despite the fact that they’d only known each other a short amount of time. The truth was, being with Isaac was as easy as breathing.

“I’m going to warn you right now,” He commented with a soft grin, breaking the pause of silence between them. “I’ve never done anything like this before, and while I have high hopes, if we unleash any kind of mummy curse on the world, the chances are I’ll blame you for it, I just thought you should know. I don’t trust any of this.”

She raised an eyebrow at the mention of mummy curses then laughed “What are you talking about, curses? Really, one would think we’d come here with the intent of unleashing havoc and evil upon the world.” She leaned up kissing him on the cheek as the driver brought the car to a stop and opened the door for them. Exiting the car she continued “Really babe, the smaller artifacts are what interest me the most. I mean, I know I’ll never possess anything like these, but I am hoping Professor Langdon can provide me with a better understanding of what to look for and acquire for my own antiques and collectables.” She laughed then, with a wink “And if we do unleash a curse, you can blame me.”

There hadn’t even been time for Isaac to respond to her as just then she spotted none other than the man she remembered to be Professor Langdon. (http://fringehairart.typepad.com/photos/mens_style/gabriel_byrne.jpg) The years had been good to him despite the once jet black hair now being salt and pepper gray but for the most part he hadn’t changed much.

“Could this really be little Shiloh?” The professor inquired as he embraced her. Shiloh blushed. “Professor Langdon, I haven’t been a little girl for a long time now.” She said the words with a smile on her face as she returned his hug. “I’d be much more comfortable if you’d call me Tom young lady.” The Professor chuckled then nodded at Shiloh’s companion. Shiloh turned to introduce the two men “Isaac, I’d like you to meet Professor Thomas Langdon, he’s an old friend of the family. Thomas, this is the friend I was telling you about, Isaac Scott.” After the two men had greeted each other, the professor said began walking towards some buildings that looked like small huts. “I’ve made arrangements for you to stay here on the site with me; I think you’ll find the huts quite comfortable.” The professor said the words as he opened the door to the hut, Shiloh immediately noticing the room had been sectioned into two halves behind the central room. A small kitchen and bathroom were located off to the side.

The professor noticed Shiloh’s inquisitive look at the division and cleared his throat “I wasn’t quite certain what arrangements you would need.” He explained before continuing “If you’d prefer there is a hotel nearby.” His voice trailed off slightly and Shiloh quickly put his mind at ease, albeit that she could have afforded the hotel with ease for both her and Isaac. Money was not a major issue for Shiloh, her parents had left her plenty but she rarely touched it, preferring to keep herself busy with working. Shiloh quickly intervened “It works fine for me professor, I’m sure Isaac wouldn’t want to put you out any further either.” Shiloh looked to Isaac then for his seal of approval.

The professor seemed satisfied and quickly looked at his watch “If you will excuse me, I’m sure you’d both like a few moments to rest up from your flight, and I have a meeting I need to attend. Perhaps we could meet for a late lunch, around two thirty? I will have more time to show you around then. In the meantime, feel free to look around just don’t.” Shiloh quickly interrupted “I know Professor, I haven’t forgotten everything you and Dad taught me. I know not to touch anything.” Thomas Langdon hugged her again, and nodded to Isaac then “I’ll see you both soon.”

After the Professor had left Shiloh moved around the small hut, noticing that it really did look comfortable. “It actually does look very comfortable” she said as she wrapped her arms around Isaac’s neck. “I hope you don’t mind, not having your own room, too much” she said the words, a slight grin gracing her face.

[Kris]

There is no escaping.

There is nowhere to hide.

When the changes come to attack you, they will be stronger each time you face them.

The keys are in your hands.

Don't hesitate forever, move on and be your own creator.


***

DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 23:00
LOCATION: Cassandra's place, Moscow, Russia


The next few hours were pretty terrible to Sarina. They were back at Cassandra's house and she now set on the folding bed (which was folded into a couch's shape) while Sarina sat right across from her, on a wooden chair, one of her hands supporting the weight of her face, as her chin leaned on her palm, while the other hand falling loosely from the back rest, both of her legs entangled around the chair, all the way down to the floor, hitting the chair legs too from time to time as her body stagger with every uneasy question that Cassandra asked her.

Terence was already sleeping in another room.

"So... this is... just a wild ghost chase...?", Cassandra asked.

"It's more than this..."

"Sarina..."

"Look, I told you what I think will be safe enough to tell you. I think this is something big".

"Sure... whatever".

The conversation has carried on for another hour with both of the girls arguing. Cassandra wanted to know more and Sarina knew it wasn't the right idea to tell her everything. In the end Cassandra just said 'goodnight' and walked out of the room, not before helping Sarina to fix the bed and then turned off the lights.

Sarina waited for her friend to fell asleep and once she did, she closed off the door and actived her laptop. Finding her way to a working network to connect to was easy task. Cassandra was a pain to bear now, but at least she translated what the actor told her:

'Let us meet again soon, if you truly wish to know about the star that is...Seek a place which was built like one... art type of way...'

Doing some quick search she found out what she was looking for. She wrote notes in her notebook and then something popped up from the chat box. Sarina was annoyed to learned that she forgot to turn the damn thing off.

And to make things worse, the one who wrote to her was Amilia.

'When do you come back?', the words flashed in the open window box.

'Soon', Sarina typed.

'The boss is worried. You have no idea how hard it is to find excuses for your absent. He called your place few times too'.

Sarina considered this. She had no idea the boss will call. Virus was not a good enough excuse to avoid answering the telephone.

'Just hang in there, Amilia. I count on you. Please don't tell anyone where I am, okay? Please? I'll make it up to you, okay?'

'Okay, have fun. ttyl'.

'Bye'.

Sarina closed the chat box not before digging her face within her hands. She didn't had much time... and she haven't found anything at all.

Realizing she can't think up straight right now, she just went to sleep.


***

DATE: August 21th, 2042
TIME: 07:15
LOCATION: Cassandra's place, Moscow, Russia


Sarina woke up early without even setting up her phone timer. She realized her body was already used to getting up early and covering Tom's ass on the morning shifts.

She tried to put her head back on the pillow and try to recover some more hours of sleep, but she just couldn't. She got up and looked at everything she wrote the night before.

Building shaped like a star... amm...

She went for the kitchen, making sure not wake anyone as she made herself coffee and pour it into the blue Thermos. She packed it in her beg with something to eat for breakfast. She took a deep breath before stepping outside of the house, the beg which contained her camera and all of her other personal objects in it was carried on her back.

She realized it wasn't the wisest idea to travel alone in a foreign land, but according to the maps the place she wanted to go for wasn't that far off. It was too early too, so there wasn't a chance of meeting any crocked men (at least that's what she said to calm herself down).

Beside, she needed some time alone and Cassandra still would address this obsession as nothing more than nuisance. She closed the door and stepped outside.


***

DATE: August 21th, 2042
TIME: 10:00 AM
LOCATION: Russian army theater, Moscow, Russia


It could have been the perfect place to start up her search because, and as ironically as it seemed, the building was built in a shape of a star.

She took some pictures, finding this place to be too perfect to be true.

Star, star, star.

All connected to this place, but deep down inside she knew everything was just too symbolic to her, because she was trying too hard to find it. She knew for sure, without even knowing why, that her star wasn't there to begin with. Having nothing better to do and knowing it was too soon to admit defeat and go back to Cassandra's place, she decided to learn more about this place from the local folks.

She started to ask the people that passed by and was surprised to learn that most of them knew to speak English so well...

They told her how often this place was to change names (being called differently under every regime that ruled over Russia)...

But... Something was... not right...

She felt how speaking was such a burden on her. Some words just stuck without her to remember the meaning of them, some words have gone missing. She felt how her tongue flickered in the wrong letters, making her accent visible and she knew she sounded horrible.

The worst thing was that she had no idea why it happened.

She was so embarrassed that she decided to sit aside and relax, catch her breath and let the crimson line on her cheeks to melt down into the original color of her face. The air was cold, but she felt the heat of confusion taking over her body and clouding her mind. She lifted up her phone from her bag. It was 11:20 A.M now.

She decided it was best to head back when she noticed something in the distance: her actor. He was dressed in simple cloths, his long hair picked up in a ponytail. He walked while having his hands tucked tight within the pockets of his jeans.

There was something very attractive about him despite the fact he wasn't much of her type. She got up and started to walk, aiming to meet him halfway, "How did you know I'll be here?", she asked (Again feeling that she didn't speak clearly enough and that her voice was a bit different).

He looked at her surprised. His eyes widen up and he just stared at her for a long moment before narrowing his eyes, "I didn't know that you'll have the courage to come", he said and smiled, "And I had no idea you'll drop by so early".

"Something wrong?", she asked because she had the feeling that he was not surprised from the fact she was there, "and... You can speak English?!", she said with anger, "You could have saved me a lot of trouble if you just talked clearly back then".

He was once again surprised. After a short while he laughed.

"What?!", she asked, fury taking over her voice.

"Nothing... I just...", he smiled, "I don't..."

"Huh?".

"What are you...?", he asked.

Before she could answer a strong wind blew out of now where and Sarina was forced to cover up her eyes. When she looked back at the man, she noticed that his mask turned to adorn his face. It was so quick, the makeup just appeared out of the blue, but somehow, Sarina could halt the process of his adornment in her brain, as if it was a movie in a slow motion, or even a frozen image. She now had a mental idea of how it happened: the white makeup was shifting on his face with long lines of black, as if drawn by a famous artist and not just by any normal cosmetician which apply powder on a daily basis. His lips were colored in crimson and his eyes turned purple and were glittering, long and narrow. That twisted arrogant smile formed as an added ornament, but this time the smile didn't seem to break any holes within the makeup as if this mask of colors was part of his face.

While she enjoyed the fact that somehow she could have slowed the process of his changing in her mind (How she could have done it was beyond her), she felt something gripping her neck; cold fingers that entangled around her skin. She opened her eyes, realizing that although she could have seen his movements so clearly if she choose to concentrated on it, life still went on around her, and he was already making his next move, attacking her, while she was being distracted. Slowly, as she tried not to encourage him to tight his grip on her by making any additional motion from her side, she turned slightly to look at him. He was holding her from behind and apparently he was half naked too (because she felt his chest as it was pressed against her back). She shivered as another hand had reached and encircled over her stomach into an embrace she wasn't comfortable with. She felt cold sweat running down her nape and shivered as his chest, oh so close to her from behind, was raised up and down with every breath he took.

His fingers fastened and she gasped, but more out of fear than lack of air. She was so afraid to move that only her pupils ran wild; brown and glittering, big and gentle. The kind you see only within the eyes of a little child.

Very innocent child.

He seemed to be enjoying her terrified appearance.

People were passing beside her, rushing from one place to another without giving them a second thought. 'Help me', she wanted to cry, but didn't wish to let the fiend have any additional moment of satisfaction. She gritted her teeth hoping that someone will catch the hint.

Nothing. No one came to help.

He turned her around, forcing her on her knees as he made sure her gaze was still raised up at him. He looked at her for a few more moments before his smile grew wilder. She thought the worst part was behind her, unless he wanted to kill her that is, but then, to her terror, she watched as something emerged from his back. Cold and dark wings, butterfly type. His makeup turned even worst, stranger and twisted as the colors around his eyes slide down in streams of black to connect the eyes with his chin.

'No!', she gasped, her eyes widening.

What was he?!

She turned to scan his body slowly when she noticed that upon the ground below the two of them, only her shadow stretched wide. It took her few moments to understand the meaning of this, and just to make sure she was right to assume what she figured out, she lifted up one of her hands and landed it on his, which was still connected with her neck. To her surprise, her hand passed right through his hand....

He dissolved into nothingness, wings, makeup and his whole figure disappearing from her sight, and she turned around quickly, alerted and fearful, her chest going up and down in visible rhythm, making marks of folds upon her shirt.

Away from her he stood, smiling, ever so pleased with himself as one hand was resting on his hip while the other supporting his chin, in a thoughtful type of gesture. No makeup, no wings. He was fully dressed too.

People continued to walk from one side to the other but the last few of them turned to look at her directly with a worried or annoyed look. Some even crossed the street or just tried to stay away from her, as if she was some kind of a monster.

And then it hit her.

"Illusion", she bit her lips. It was all in her head to begin with.

"What exactly are you?", he asked moving closer, one step at a time, every move of his was timed and full of grace, as if he was some kind of a royalty.

"What... what do you mean by that?", Sarina asked, flinching as she reached her hands backwards, trying to find a safe route to escape should she need one.

"You were able to free yourself... and... I gather you don't speak Russian, do you?"

"Of course I don't!", Sarina cried.

"Yes, it is obvious in your accent... you make a lot of speaking errors too..."

Sarina narrowed her eyes trying to understand where he was going with it, "How can you tell?"

He laughed. "Oh, this is rich", he smiled widely, "What language do you think you have spoken with me until now?"

Again Sarina was puzzled. It took her some more moments before her eyes widen and she seized her mouth within her right hand, hiding it.

He laughed, enjoying her fear and terror and confusion so much, "Oh, this is rich..."

"It can't be!", she said slowly. She was so shocked that she just sat near the closest object she was at (which was the edge of a fountain). "How... How can I speak in another language...?!"

"I wish to know that too..."

His shadow landed on her. She was so surprised with her discovery that she didn't even notice how much of a distance he covered to get to her. He bent on one leg, again with a dramatic gesture (She didn't know if it was an actor attribute or just a mad man type of crazy behavior), "You are one of us then... But not of my type... I believe...", he reached his hands for her, attempting to imitate a cheek caressing gesture without actually make a contact with her skin, "Maybe something even more marvelous. Maybe even more useful..."

Sarina was still disturbed. His words the only thing to penetrated her mind, her world of thoughts and calculation. Everything was crushed against this new reality.

He gave her the time she needed to think it out (being the twisted gentleman type he was).

"Useful...", she uttered slowly as she was once again in the realm of the living. Her big eyes begging for explanation. He smiled, looking at her with a glint of delight, "There are more... like us...", he said slowly, taking deep breath and smiling.

"More...", she repeated.

Obviously she knew of that, after all Terence was different too and she always realized there had to be more strange people like her and him out there. But now, in this confusing state she was in, everything seemed unstable and she wasn't sure of anything anymore. To hear his words was like accepting the laws from the god.

"And more... objects.... like the star....".

Sarina lifted up her head, straightening her position, "How much more?!"

He laughed as he moved closer to her, his lips close to her ear. She blushed terribly for she wasn't found of this new intimate approach, "I'd kill people... that knew half of what you know already... So... I believe it will be wise to consider your words... what you ask... and who you ask...."

"....Why don't you kill me then?!", she asked, having no idea where she gathered all this courage. Maybe because she knew that trying to play into his game will be the only way for her to get out of this meeting alive.

He laughed and pulled back. (She exhaled with relief), "Because the beast won't harm the beauty... And I enjoy my art... At least until I have enough of a pleasure of one thing... and then I just move on... Not before... Destroying it completely...", he laughed, "....and you...", he smiled, "I believe you'll be much more useful to me... alive... at least for now..."

"You're crazy!"

He laughed again, "No... I'm just an artist".

This was getting her nowhere, "So you don't know where the start is".

He nodded.

"I'll continue to look for it"

"Oh yes, I know you will", he said, "By all means, please do... However, I'm not sure it will be an easy hunt".

"Why not?"

"Because most of the people going after this object aren't the friendly type, like me. They are corrupted organizations that have many people they hire to do their job for them".

"Oh... like the mafia?", Sarina asked naively. She could have think of other organizations, but that was the first thing to pop up in her mind.

He looked at her surprised. She knew she might have hit something and bore a smile, she liked the fact she could break his 'All too sure' attitude, even for a bit.

"So you know...", he said slowly.

(Know?! Wait a minute?! So it was real?! The mafia are involved?! Goodness, it was just a guess!!!! She had no idea at all!!! She can't possible hope to actually handle the mafia on her own!!!l)

"But that's the least of your worries...", he continued, "Once you have one item... there are more... and with them comes the threat of even more powerful people..."

"I don't have much of a choice now anyway, do I!?", Sarina gritted her teeth and looked up at him with anger.

"As long as you're in this game, you're useful. Once you know too much and turn your back you will get stabbed and die for sure. These people will make sure no one will speak your name again... Even making sure your friends are never to be found..."

"What's your part in it?", Sarina asked, "How do you know all of this?!"

He bowed, "Forgive me, but as a performer I must hide my tricks and cards from the common folks and audience".

Okay... This was too annoying already... And Sarina felt there wasn't any additional information he could have gave her.

"Can I go now?"

He nodded.

She got up and before she could have moved further he grabbed her hand, "Remember, as long as you are useful...".

She broke free and walked as fast as she could from there, knowing that he was probably smiling or maybe laughing at her. Once she was at a safe distance she looked back.

He was already gone.

[Koti~]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: Unknown
Location: Unknown

*You cannot run from me~* A voice echoed in her head, making Stephanie dart upright. It sounded a bit like Evalon, but at the same time not, it sounded male. She stumbled out of bed, the light outside having vanished. Heading over, she pulled back the curtain, only to see a brick wall staring her in the face. She stumbled back, wondering what the hell was going on.

A knock on her door drew her attention, and without thinking she headed over, and opened the door. What she saw there made her draw her breath and stumble backwards, her eyes wide. It was Richard, but not the well to do man who had stood in front of her, but a man bruised and covered in blood, which teased at her nose.

“Richard! What happened to you?!” Stephanie shouted, staring at the man who stood before her.

"They wanted to know where you were. At first, I wouldn’t tell, but they wouldn’t stop hitting me, one blow after the other. So…I told them… to save myself" Richard said, his voice changing with statement. Stephanie stumbled back, that voice ringing all too well in her mind. It was her, Evalon.

“He… he wouldn’t do something like that!” Stephanie shouted; her back against the wall. Before she could react, Richard had her pinned against the wall, his hand around her throat and a Cheshire grin on his face.

"How would you know, you don’t know me" Evalon’s voice swayed out of his mouth, a faint drip of blood down his body. She reacted strong, her body instinctively dragging her knee up into the fork in his leg. His image shattered, with Evalons voice floating down

*They only think of themselves! Even the two you call ‘friends’ will betray you eventually!* She shouted.

Stephanie rushed into the bathroom, Evalon’s voice still ringing in her ears.

*I don’t care what you say, they are my friends.* Stephanie said, gripping the edge of the pure white sink. Turning the faucet on, she let the cool water run for a bit before splashing her face, still sweating

**Humans are not friends; they are vile beasts, more animal than dogs. They deserve to die, like the kids in the orphanage* Evalon said, her cold voice stabbing into Stephanie's mind. Her blood ran cold as the room went dark, an eerie light flowing from the mirror. Looking up, she spied the image of a boy, no older than 6, staring back at her, his mouth moving in in silent words. Stephanie backed up, hitting her back against the tiled wall as memories flowed back to her, ones she had been suppressing since she had left that place. The boy’s name was Ben, the leader back at the orphanage.

*They lie* Evalon said, reminding Stephanie that Ben, on that day had promised to be best of friends.

*They steal* The image displayed on the mirror shifted, of one to a red headed girl, who looked like a bean stalk. The girls name was Amber, and the memory of was when she had stolen Stephanie's necklace that she had saved from her mother.

*They cheat* The image shifted again, this time showing the same red girl and the orphanages nun. Stephanie hated this memory. The girl had persuaded Stephanie to help her take some cookies, and promised to take the blame if they had gotten caught. When they were confronted, Amber played if off as it had been Stephanies idea, and she thought it was a bad one to begin with.

*They hurt others for pure enjoyment* The image shifted violently, and Stephanie gasped in shock. Her hand covered her mouth as she started at the group of 6, Ben in the lead and Amber off to the side. Ben was twirling a small pebble in his hand, as a large red splotch covered the mirror from the top. Ben had just nailed her a few seconds earlier in that memory, and the red was her own blood, clouding her eyes.

*Worst of all though.. is that they will betray you without a seconds hesitation* The image zoomed in on the mousy boy in the back, avoiding eye contact with Stephanie. Stephanie’s eyes went wide, pressing her back further into the wood. The image on the large bathroom mirror shifted about, showing different scenes with the same boy, with a smile on his face. His name was Jonathan, and he was her only friend there. They had laughed and played, his voice a welcome comfort from all the jeering. But when Ben found out, he bullied him into betraying her, telling her to meet him behind the oak tree near the far side, away from the Nuns. That was when she was cornered and attacked by those 6.

*When it comes right down to it, they will abandon you without a second thought, if only to save their hides. They can’t be trusted… they must die* The image swam, brining into focus Jonathans face, the vision half bluured by blood. His eyes seemed to be pleading, to be let go as he visibly shook, his mouth moving franticly. She saw her own hand reach into the image, covered in blood and pale. The hand moved slowly, fingers out reached and aiming just for his chest. HE stood frozen and his mouth formed a silent scream as her fingers bit into the flesh around his chest, not stopping to any degree. The hand continued to dig in, his face going whiter and whiter as his mouth opened wide…

*NOO!* Ramming her eyes shut, she reached behind her and grabbed something round and heavy. Flinging it hard, the object sailed and slammed into the center of the mirror, fracturing the image, causing the illusion to fade. Clutching her stomach, she leaned over and heaved, bile scarring her throat. She knew what was to come next in that memory and she didn’t want to relive that memory. Sliding down against the wall, she pulled her knees to her chest, visibly shaking and wide eyes staring into nothing, her mind silent. She glanced up at the mirror slowly, to see her staring back, her skin pale and her eyes wide. The mirror was spider webbed with thousands of cracks on it, the entire area focused in the center where the object had hit, which was rolling around in the sink still. Her mind was blank and her head rested back, resting her chin on her knees and still shaking, the images still haunting her mind...


Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 12:45 PM
Location: Guiliana's room, Casa Del Mar

Stephanies eyes darted open, her head boiling. The taste of bile lingered in her throat, though nothing had come up. She laid there... shivering in mild fear.

*I cannot let her take control... She will kill them without a second thought*

[Ad Infinitum]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 8:45am
Location: Bran, Romania


From somewhere inside the diner a radio hummed. A Romanian ballad on alto violin, which flowed and ebbed between sweet and melancholy, each note drifting apart without loosing tempo. The sunrise over the Carpathians cast a haloed sundog when filtered through his goggles, like the nautical compass on an old map; overhead, he could still see the faint moon clinging to the sky, as pale and thin as a fingernail; and westward, gray thunderheads from the previous storm shuttered with a sickly white glow. Across the street on Branului hill, Bran Castle reached for the heavens like Babel.

Gihst had a lit cigarette between his teeth as he sat alone beside the window, giving the clock above the bar an idle glance; the castle would be open to the public in another forty-five minutes. He tossed a tour brochure labeled Castelul Bran onto the bistro table as the waitress arrived, a plain young woman dressed neat but drab. As she leaned to set down an earthenware mug of black coffee, he caught her subtly eye the tattoo on the back of his left hand; the tattoo was a perfect circle surmounted by sharp Aramaic text, like a black crown of thorns. There was an identical tattoo on his right hand. She shied when her hazel eyes lifted to find him staring straight back at her, his eyes utterly black through those opaque blue lenses. His lips parted at eye level.

“...thank ye.” He murmured with that heavy metallic rasp, sliding a single paper bill across the table. Then, drawing a deep breath with his brow pressed against his folded hands, he allowed his eyes to rest. His mind wandered back to the Isle of Skye; the sounds, images just as clear, as though they had waited for him to recall them, and wonder. Always, his retrospective inner eye fixed on Marian; standing in the frame of light from that window without curtains, looking so much like mother, the cold fire of her blue eyes roaring and then, over the years, dying, flaring up again, then dying forever. Once, the thought nearly floored him.

But there was one cold realization: when one looses everything and acceptance finally comes, that was when one was truly free...

Beats of absolute silence drew his tired eyes over his shoulder. The diner was a stagnant and vacant shell behind him; no radio, no sounds of cooking nor hushed conversations, and not a single soul was present in that once bustling place. Something seemed dragged and there was a feeling of misplacement, as though he had missed the rapture of the paschal lamb. He blinked, his tired eyes just visible between his barely parted lids. Once again, he looked to the clock, the big and little hands pointing out to 8:47am. Now movement flickered in his peripheral, and instinctively, he idly turned his rolling eyes to track it.

Outside on Branului hill, a roving dog blotted the light white fog with black; so black and clear in silhouette that it seemed nothing more than a shape cut out of reality, a hole that showed the void churning behind the membrane of the world. The dog ran as though something wished to dissect the subtleties of its form in slow motion. And although he could not see its eyes, he felt their presence pinned on him.

There were stale and humid puffs of breath panting against his nape...

Gihst braced for a sudden violence as a strange howl rose, but he soon recognized 'Sam the Sham' singing 'Lil' Red Riding Hood' on the radio; the diner was again alive and back to normal around him. Bringing his coffee to his lips, he scowled when the singer mimicked a sheep, casting an irritable glare at the clock again. Then he froze. His coffee was lukewarm, his cigarette had burnt down to the filter, and the time now read 9:15.


Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 10:00am
Location: Bran Castle, Romania


Bran Castle lacked real mystique when its romanticized shroud had been lifted. In the wake of renovations during the 1920s, Vlad Tepes' infamous castle had been rendered into nothing more than a fortress styled after a traditional German house. But now, over a hundred years later, the castle stood rotting from the inside out once again; the original carmine red roofs bleached by rain and sun into a dusty orange, white walls now molted gray with stains, and its atmosphere turned goatish.

Gihst noted this in particular outside in the castle courtyard. There he sat on a stout stone wall hunched over his knees, his features sunken behind his folded hands until only those goggles where visible. Over the years, creeping ivy had pried beneath the plaster coating the walls, breaking open cracks and holes through which old stone masonry was revealed; underfoot, the dirt and moss that had gathered now threatened to pave over the cobblestone; and in the very center of the yard, wild flowers basked in the sunshine around an old well with vibrant blue Morning Glories climbing the beam that once supported a bucket. As analogous to a fine wine, Bran Castle was better aged.

Echoes announced the young couple long before they entered the courtyard. One was a young woman with golden hair and a honeyed smile, her bright blue eyes betraying a peculiar cleverness beneath their cheery surface shine. The other, a well-muscled yet short man, possessing restraint in his stride far greater than the look in his eyes; he had this sheepish grin on his face, as though he could not believe his luck.

He had seen very few people besides the stray tour guides; whom phased in and out of rooms, checking on things, and offering trivia concerning whatever the tourists seemed to be interested in at the time. Otherwise the visitors were allowed to wander wherever they pleased, exempting the areas that had been closed off to the public. One off-limit area was a fenced off stairwell leading down into a cool, humid darkness; but the staff knew some people would risk a break in to feed their curiosity, so they had stationed someone to stand in the room at all times during the day. He learned that security had been limited to peeled eyes and bolted doors. But he didn't need doors, perhaps it would be wiser to return after nightfall...

[Rook]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 12:36 PM
Location: Guiliana's room, Casa Del Mar

As Guiliana walked to the window, Lance reached in his pocket, and drew his own pack. She was clearly contemplating something, but he had not the slightest idea of what it may be. Could it be his offer? Not very likely. He turned away as she began to speak.

"Hmm. Neither of us has had much sleep in the past couple days. But I am hungry. The museums will close around seven tonight, I'm guessing. So maybe a compromise then? Lunch, we stop back here for a short nap...then go out again when it cools off."

Lance nodded to himself absently at her response, a total shut down, which he was expecting so it didn't really concern him. As for her plan, it sounded good it him. He took another drag as she made her next comment.

"Unless you're feeling like eating something other than tamales."

He nearly choked on his puff, and turned back, and looked over the crack of a smile that adorned her face. He more than followed suit, a cocky grin taking his his lips. Witty.

“I'll eat whatever you tell me to eat. Just say the word” He said, a chuckle cracking his words. As he began to move for the door. With a low laugh to herself, Guiliana followed suit, approaching the door that he held for her after grabbing her purse from the table

“I'm presuming you didn't come to Lima for a snack..” she mused, shortly pausing as the sun light from the window shown in her eyes, causing her to wince, in all it's sudden, unpleasant splendor. “But there was a restaurant a few blocks from here; I saw it on the taxi ride over. Ever had Garnacha?” She inquired, brushing by him as he shut the door.

“What the hell is a Garnacha?”

~~~~~

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 12:55 PM
Location: A Restaurant The Name of Which Lance's Monolingual Ass Couldn't Read

The restaurant was rather quiet, as it was more of a siesta time of day. fortunately or not, the place was on the tourist side of town. This meant that along with a few traditional dishes, there was also an eclectic mixture of tapas and some more American dishes as well. Guiliana gazed at the walls made of local gray stone, and down at her glass. The wine was dark, almost purple, and it boasted a dry, oaky flavor with a note of mango.

"This is 'a' Garnacha."

Lance picked up on what he thought could be a slight hint of mocking when she said 'a Garnacha', quoting him word for word, when it was now noticeable that the 'a' was clearly not needed. With that, Lance swirled the drink around in the glass, and took in a whiff of the aroma. Not a smell he was used to, a rum or straight vodka drinker himself, but pleasant. He took a sip, and allowed the taste to wash over him, realizing just how long it had been since he'd had anything to drink, and then narrowly avoided the urge to gulp the rest down.

“So, what may I ask, found you and your father in Peru?” A valid question exuded in sheer intrigue of the current situation. A question at which Guiliana smiled a little, and ran her fingers through her hair. She rested her elbow on the table, fingers still holding back the front layers from her face.

"For him, I suspect business. He's always trying to get me excited about these ...meetings. I do what I need to but I don't find it terribly thrilling. For me...I was an anthropology major. I would be getting my hands dirty in some dusty books if I could." She looked at Lance, trying to gauge his response without allowing that to show on her face. Lance, sharp as a razor, but dense as a boulder, had not the slightest inkling that she was trying to read him.

“But that is a boring conversation.” She chuckled, beginning flawlessly a transition of subject. “Are you from the island, or did you wind up there somehow?” She asked, a seemingly genuine inquiry, but for Guiliana it had an ulterior motive lying in wait below the surface. Anyone normal person who'd seen what Lance had seen from both she and Stephanie over the last couple of days; the former sprouting wings and the latter taking the form of a cat; would be more than a little shaken by the happening. Lance however, took it pretty well in stride. That could very well mean one of two things. Either Lance was hiding a similarly large secret, and going about it quite well, or he was just a very hard to impress person. Strangely, somehow the former was seeming to her to be the case. No solid proof; a gut feeling at best, but a gut feeling she couldn't ignore. A polite smile, yet strangely sinister in it's own right, tugged at Lance's lips as he seemed to draw on the memory.

“Ah, how I got to the Island. Not an interesting story. My dad was a stressed man. Work had him down, and some family friends... I don't really know who, honestly, suggested Alesia as a get away. What I assume was an extended vacation originally ended up being an all out move. I was pretty young so it's all really a blur. How about you? Family always owned hotels there?” He asked, slyly pushing the topic away from himself. This time, Lance had caught it. Their polite conversation was about to become subtle game of cat and mouse.


"Not always. When I was small, there was only one, on the mainland. But my mother wasn't well, and after..." Guiliana clenched her jaw a little, hating herself for tripping over the subject of her mother's illness. At Guiliana's remark, Lance grew a somber look. He opened his mouth to give the average, cliched 'condolences' statement, but was impeded when she continued, measuring her tone.

"After my mother became worse, he threw himself into the business. He opened the second hotel on the island. Then, for while, it seemed like I was going the same way. So he brought me out there to stay with him. And I didn't really ever leave.” She said, finishing coolly. If he wasn't going to give her anything, why would she offer him that gratification. In fact, why even let him get away with it. Never knew how to respond to ...sympathy anyhow, Guiliana thought as she plotted her next move.

"I did notice you steering the conversation away from yourself. You can't get too far with that." Guiliana smirked and raised her eyebrows at Lance. And once more, the spotlight fell on the young man with dirty blond hair.

Shit... One doesn't simply waltz away from a call out like that back to a tender topic without looking like a complete ass. She's sneaky.

“Caught that did you? Sorry, I'm not too big on talking about myself. Mostly because I'm pretty much your average run of the mill guy. You know, Go to collage, work a a convenience store... Help hospital runaways escape their pursuers, even though I become quite aware that they, along with some other people they associate with are clearly not what they seem. You know every day stuff.” He said, sly smirk hiding from any onlookers the fact that he was completely serious.

"Mmmm...Would I say associate?" The corners of her eyes crinkled now too, indicating the playfulness of her response.

"And you're hardly run-of-the-mill yourself. What kind of person works at a grocery store..." Here she lowered her voice, not wanting to draw much attention to what she was about to say. "And yet finds his way onto a booked flight to Lima, with only a couple days' notice." Her eyes were wide now, but her small, wry grin was still in place. A forceful, well played move on her part. It wasn't an infrequent thing for Lance; these games. What was spectacular about this specific encounter was the fact that she was able to move him into check and herself out of check just as easily as he did. And the boards current position left him with but one crude, over played move. A move that he would shamelessly take against this worthy opponent.

“Ah, caught that too I see.” he said, sly smirk following steadfast suit with her wry grin. “But I assure you, nothing too out of the ordinary. Some gentleman didn't show for the flight, and I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Good Fortune seems to hunt me down. Or bad luck seems to track the people that I need out of the way. Don't know which really. I like to think it's the first one.” He took another sip, and lit another smoke. “Then again, good luck isn't without cost. Probably should have called to tell them I was out of town this week and next. Ah well, I'm sure I can scrape up another job somewhere. Just payed rent too, so I should have the time to find it before I gotta cough up the cash.”

At this Guiliana made a somewhat crinkly face, and pulled out another cigarette of her own. A simple, low blow of a retort. When someone blamed dumb luck for something, knowing full well that if they might not have had the means to do what was done without twisting the odds in their favor, the statement held no accountability. She couldn't prove that Lance wouldn't show up hoping that someone would miss the flight, but unless he was a overly optimistic fool, he likely wouldn't have even bothered. Something about the whole situation was off. After lighting it and taking a drag, she sighed.

"Well, I'm tempted to get some flan, but maybe I should save that for later." With this, she gestured to the waiter for the check; who quickly shuffled over, delivering it wordlessly. No other purpose in just standing beside their table, he disappeared momentarily into the kitchen. Guiliana pulled a couple of bills from her purse and slipped them into the cardholder. To that end, Lance drew his own wallet, and tossed a few of his own on the table, to at least cover tip.

“I've got the next one.” He said, downing the remainder of his drink. By that point, Guiliana had already finished her glass, although she did delicately press the napkin to her lips. She stood, brushed and arranged herself , and yawned loudly.

"How about that nap?" She mentioned, snapping Lance from his game back to a previous topic of discussion.

"Sounds good to me." He said, snarky, innuendo ignited tone flowing back into his voice. Though to that token, he was in fact genuinely tired.

~~~~~

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 2:15 PM
Location: Guiliana's room, Casa Del Mar

Guiliana brushed back into the hotel room, pushing through the doorway with her shoulder. She drug her heels across the floor as she walked into the small bedroom, dropping her bag on the floor with a yawn, covering her mouth with one hand. Luckily, the open window was letting a cool breeze from the nearby shore freshen the room. Lance had entered shortly after her, and clasping his hands over their respective shoulders in a back arching stretch, responded to her yawn with his own, born of it's predecessor.

"I am serious about this nap." She grumbled, clearly quite tired. Lance wasn't looking any better. But would it be enough to stop him from trying? Certainly not. Especially since his intentions involved laying in bed anyway.

“Yeah, me too... So, before, after, or completely ignoring my implication?” he asked, asinine grin that seemed to say, 'I'm Not Expecting it, but I won't argue' crossing his lips. To this, Guiliana let out a ringing, good-natured laugh. Taking a second thought, however, she looked at Lance quietly. She observed his expression, and the slight swagger of that grin.

"I going to sleep. When I wake up, you'll have a second chance at convincing me I'm hungry for a snack." As she finished, she flashed her own devious grin. Did I really say snack? She thought, resisting the urge to wince.

Eyebrows perked, and his grin lifted a bit more. About to make an overly cocky statement may as well have been written on his forehead.

“Well then, I'll leave you to your resting. I'll be a gentleman and not try to cuddle up to you before I awe you with my grandeur.” he said, snark apparent, and punctuated by a his own good-natured laugh. And with that, he closed the door and retreated to the living room.

As he settled into the couch, he quietly growled to himself.

What the fuck are you doing Lance... You're not here to get laid, you're here to... His train of thoughts cut off there, realizing just how stupid this all sounded to him. He abandoned his home, and belongings, and friends, and family for what? To chase a glowing something or other he'd dreamed about. It had certainly been strange he'd dream about what looked to be Aztec Architecture, just before finding out that if he was going to hide from possible pursuers, the best place would likely be in Peru of all places, but it could have been a coincidence. Hell, to the best of his memory, he could have fallen asleep with the TV on the Discovery Channel. Pushing the thoughts out of his mind, he silently lie down with a shake of his head.

What am I doing. Yeah, I'll look into the dream, but you know what? I'm in South-Fucking-America. As long as I'm here, I may as well have a bit of fun. And if that fun happens to be that fun, I really can't see why I'm complaining to myself.

-----

Lance had gone out, and Guiliana dropped onto the bed. One final thought tickled her brain as she relaxed into sleep. There is a small temple in the salt-mining caves by the river..They say it's worth seeing at night... With that, she closed her eyes. I suppose I'll just ask him if he wants to come along. Or what he wants at all..

[RisingPhoenix]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: Noon
Location: Lima, Peru

He hadn’t had much sleep during the flight, but the sleep that he did manage to obtain was short, yet rejuvenating. All this life he had wanted to go on an adventure, and here he was with the man he loved in Peru of all places, looking for a jewel amongst the rough rocks of Peru. Silently he turned over in the bed and began to awake. The hotel that he had managed to procure a room at was very high end and marvelously staffed. It had the best customer service he had encountered in quite a while. The man that lay beside him had proposed to him before they had left Alesia, and to his proposal Nicolai had gave him a yes in response, but Nicolai didn’t even know if he and Chris would get married, but the idea of being proposed to was what made Nicolai’s face light up like a Christmas tree.

Silently he slipped out of the bed, leaving Chris asleep facing the opposite direction. He quickly took a bath and dressed himself before deciding to prepare for the adventure of a lifetime.

Date: August 20, 2042
Time: 10:00 PM
Location: En Route to Cachora, Peru

The bus ride was not the coziest he had ever ridden. The driver seemed to have smoked some type of hallucinogenic substance because he was hitting potholes in the road, causing the passengers on the bus to hit their heads on random parts of the interior. One man in particular had hit his head so hard, that it had started to bleed, and Nicolai became worried for the man’s cut. It could become infected if not treated correctly. Nicolai had packed the necessities he thought he would need, including protection. A dagger was uniquely placed inside his tote for quick removal.

Silently he stood up as best he could with the horrible driving displayed. He made his way over to the man who looked to be a priest of some sort, but it wasn’t Nicolai’s area to judge. From his tote, he removed some rubbing alcohol, a bandage and some cleaning solution and politely sat down beside the priest.

“Excuse me, I noticed your cut. Mind if I help? I’ve done so residential work at a hospital,” Nicolai said trying to be as straightforward and as nice as possible to this man who seemed to be in the hump of a bad day. “I’m Nicolai by the way, and might I suggest doing something quickly about that cut. Foreign land makes for nasty foreign germs.”

[Cookies Ahoy]

DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 10:25 am
LOCATION: Bran Castle, Romania


For a castle that looked so small from the outside, TJ quickly found out that was not the case. He followed Tansy around as she wandered in, what seemed to him, aimless direction. Of course, he probably wouldn’t have done things much differently, aside from spending less time looking at everything. She didn’t annoy him, he just couldn’t grasp why anyone would bother spending more than a minute or two eyeing over a painting or statue. The plaque told you what it was and why it was so special, what more was there to really learn? Whatever else was to be learned was beyond TJ. Sometimes he would make a remark about whatever they were looking at, but few things really piqued his interest enough to do so.

Luckily TJ had something else to check out. Anytime Tansy spent time noting something interesting, and TJ had already passed over what she was looking at, he would just take a few steps back and take in the view. He was careful about it though, TJ didn’t want to seem shallow, or worse obviously give away what he was doing. He wasn’t trying to be shallow or anything, he just didn't get a lot of female interaction with his job that consumed most of his life, nor did it bother him much. Today was just for fun.

More often though, TJ found himself looking at the other people at the castle. Most could be grouped into two categories: tourists or students on a field trip. A few people stuck out though, not as if they were threats, but just people that TJ gave more than a fraction of a second’s thought about.

“So, Tansy, what exactly are you looking for in this castle? Its not going to be more than a sentence or two in your article, right? Couldn’t you just look the place once over real quick, and then move on to other attractions?” TJ asked curiously.

[Mysteria]

DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 2:30 PM
LOCATION: Memphis, Egypt


Isaac slipped his hands around Shiloh’s waist “As long as it’s with you, I don’t mind sharing.” He pulled her into his embrace, kissing her forehead. He meant what he said, even if he didn’t know how long he’d be able to continue sharing with her. She still didn’t know the truth and he would probably never be able to tell her either.

Shiloh smiled up into his blazing blue eyes. He looked tired and she was still concerned that the trip may have been too soon for him even though he appeared to be in good enough of spirits. “We’ve got an hour or two, do you want to rest awhile or go exploring until it’s time to meet the professor. Isaac gave her another squeeze “Mmhmm I’d like to explore you some more.” Shiloh grinned, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. As alluring as the invitation was, it would have to wait until later. “Later babe, two hours with you could never be enough. Let’s go look around, I mean, it’s not like we get to visit Egypt any time we want.

Exiting the hut they began walking around the ruins, observing as pieces of history were gently unearthed by the skilled hands of those working in the digs. Shiloh began explaining some of what she had learned before her father passed, and her continuing obsession with the subject had kept her interested in reading and studying it all that she could. The relics that Kaitlin had described were unlike anything she had ever seen before and she was exited to hear what the professor may know.

As they walked around Shiloh took in the sights and culture surrounding them. The city was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before and actually being there as items were unearthed brought forth from her many comments, ohs, and other exlamations. Shiloh was literally like a kid in a candy store.

She couldn’t help notice the other foreigners walking around the digs, an American man and woman. Perhaps whoever was backing the dig, Shiloh wondered to herself since they were both dressed in business type attire. Strange attire indeed for an excavation.

As they headed back towards their hut Professor Langdon emerged from one of the digs, calling for them and waving “Over here Shiloh and Isaac.” As they walked over Shiloh noticed the small weapon like object in the professors hand. Not dagger like but something that looked like it could have been used as a knife at one time. The glance by the foreigners towards the professor and his group had not gone unnoticed by Shiloh. Even as the words slipped from her mouth Shiloh could hear her mother’s voice in her head Child, some day your curiosity is going to get the better of you.

Shiloh questioned absentmindedly out loud “I wonder who those two are, they look so out of place here.”

[Koti~]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 3:00 PM
Location: Guiliana's room, Casa Del Mar

Stephanie heard the door open, but stayed silent with the soft-ish exchange. To her, everything seemed loud at the moment, like her senses had been given a sugar rush. The thought alone of food made her queasy, but she managed to keep it down, unlike her dream illusion thingy. Feeling other important matters calling her attention, she gingerly got up, her body swaying as if she stood on the deck of a ship. Her vision went hazy for a second; flecks of black and white filling her view before she could stable herself. She slowly walked to the bathroom; her brain feeling like it was trying to push itself out of her skull. She decided to leave the light off, and took care of business, her eyes closed the entire time.
---------------------------------------------

A twist of the handles brought warm water flowing into the sink. Splashing her face, she could feel heat radiating off of her head, which made her curious for a second.

*Maybe I should ask Guilana about it… she might know…* Stephanie thought, staring into the mirror, a brush in her hand. When she had first glanced into the mirror the memory of the dream flared in her head, giving her the same knee jerk reaction to throw something. She had luckily caught herself in time, and didn’t thankfully shatter the mirror. Letting the water run, she stared at herself in the mirror, mostly pleased to see what she looked like.

A thin film of sweat had coated her body while she had slept, making her skin glisten a bit from the sunlight peeking in from the window. Her eyes, though hazy, seemed to be alive, taking in everything she could see, glad to see it. The borrowed clothes clung to her body, the sweat acting like a glue to them while her hair splayed out in a curious bed head fashion, odds and ends sticking out here and there. To others, it would look like she was physically trying to be there, to be alive, as though everything screamed ‘I’m here, I’m alive!’, though to her, she looked like a girl, a bit too skinny for her taste. Finally making use of the brush, she began to run it through her hair, memories of her mom doing it as a child for her. As soon as those thoughts faded, she braced herself for the onslaught of Evalons wrath, but noticed something odd. The usually cold and murderous voice was silent, which made her very happy. It seemed that whatever was making her head feel like a boiling shower was keeping her at bay.

Happy at this new found gift of silence in her own head, Stephanie headed to Guilana’s door. Raising a slightly shaky hand, she knocked twice, two short raps of her knuckles on the cool wood. She waited patiently, a genuine smile finally gracing her face.

[Kris]

DATE: August 21th, 2042
TIME: 15:30
LOCATION: Cassandra's place, Moscow, Russia


She closed herself in the bathroom the minute she got to Cassandra's place. She heard soft knocking from the other side of the door as both Terence and her best friend waited for her to step outside and explain where she was.

Sarina just ignored them and once she decided to close her heart to their pleas, their voices hardly reached her and sounded very blurry, as if they passed through some kind of a filter. She looked aimlessly at the white ceiling above her which was full of holes and cracks, a thing to be expected considering the room suffered from the humidity on a daily basis.

The shower's transparent curtain was half covering the tube, which was built so it covered all of the far horizontal part. A shelf was placed above it, featuring a lone shampoo on it which was put upside down, probably because it was close to be emptied. On another part of the room, a closed white cabin was built over the sink. Sarina could only guess what was inside it for she had no intention of checking it.

She smirked bitterly. Amazing how her attention could have been easily averted if she just so desired it; Ignoring things, forgetting painful memories... Her body changed so much since THAT operation even if she refused to admit it until this very day. It was only thanks to these changing that she was able to keep her mind sane and not go crazy over the dead images of her close friends and her torn apart body...

Gah!!!

She twitched.

And took a deep breath.

There, the memory had been "removed" again.

She gritted her teeth in annoyance the moment the voices outside the door became louder.

Such a nuisance.

There, the voices been reduced with just a tiny effort and her mind was free to consider her bodily changes once again and she did so while gently touching herself; Landing her fingers over her arms, passing them over her shoulders, sliding down to her chest, ribs and finally shivering softly as she rested both of her palms over her stomach, recalling of HIS touch...

And feeling nausea.

Even the fact it was an illusion was not enough to calm her down. She shivered and fasten her hands, hating everything this actor had made her feel and uncover.

"Useful.... Hah....", She chuckled.

She didn't intend to let him win. If she was meant to lose, she will take him down with her.

Funny how this thought brought her the following image; She and her uncle sitting on the table right after her aunt removed the plates with the food they just ate. Her uncle was tossing the two cubes into the board of the backgammon game. He had almost removed all of his white discs.

On that moment he looked up, showing the "Double" result of 3-3 and removed another 4 discs. Technically he had almost won.

He looked at her as he was about to close the brown wooden board when Sarina grabbed his hands, "We play until the last pawn", she said, her eyes closing on his.

He nodded with a smile handing to her the cubes and they continued to play a while longer. Sure, Sarina did ended up losing, but she made sure not to give him a gammon victory by bearing off one of her black discs.

She considered this as: "losing respectfully" and that was always how she liked to play her games. If she was to win she won't brag about it, but if she was to lose she would at least make sure she caused some great damage to her opponent.

She licked her lips with delight, feeling some courage returning to her.

And then she frowned.

Strong people were involved in this game and if the mafia was part of it... There's no guaranty that anyone would live past this point onward. But what surprised her most of all was the fact that she WANTED to play this game; She wanted to uncover her changes and wanted to know about the items and about others like herself, yet that meant placing Cassandra and Terence in danger.

She closed her eyes as she leaned her head against the cold door, biting her lips, cursing her curiosity.

Waves of changes aimed to hurt her and she knew that if she won't do something now things will get worst later... and maybe she won't be able to pull off again like she can now.

She sighed as her body landed gently on the floor as she reached her hands to rub her forehead, realizing that the idea she had in mind was probably the best way get out of this mess while staying in it, at least for her friends, that is. She made her decision with a heavy heart just when she heard Cassandra yelling:

"Fine, stay there, but you owe me an explanation. You better still be here when I get back!"

Cassandra was probably heading to work now or so. Good. It will be easier to explain things to Terence. Sarina waited until she heard the door of the apartment opening and closing with a loud thud.

(Oh boy).

Cassandra wasn't the type to get upset and she would be furious when she found out about her new plan. But there was no choice. She cared too much for Cassandra and she saw firsthand how dangerous this whole situation is.

She slowly opened the door and looked at Terence who had just turned around to meet her. He was about to say something but she silenced him by placing a finger over his lips, "I'm going!", she said, faking a smile as best as she could, trying not to cry.

She told him to help Cassandra move out of this place immediately and ordered him not to let anyone else know where the two of them were heading. She forced him to swear he won't leave Cassandra until she was safe, either with her family, or with someone else. She handed to him some money too and told him to leave Cassandra and get to a shelter too. When he asked her where she will be heading Sarina said she'll find some hotel. When He asked how would she managed she said she had already picked up the basic of speaking Russian and when he looked at her surprised she just laughed it off, saying she was joking.

She held his hands, thanking him for encouraging her to chase the relics and she told him she was sorry for getting him into this mess. Luckily, so she told him, she was in even deeper shit, so they (He asked who are "They") would probably focus on her first, giving him and Cassandra enough time to flee, and by not knowing where the two of them were heading, she wouldn't be able to tell on them.

She won't be a "Krisa", so she told him (And explaining to him that it meant "rat" in Russian).

She gave him one last smile as she walked outside of the door hoping to return to the Island by the end of the week, as promised, as if nothing had happened, back to section G, back to the boring life with Amilia, Tom and Golan.

And maybe even with the star.

(Or maybe going out again and chase after the "Blood Stone" next... )

[~N~]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: Midnight
LOCATION: Bucharest, Romania

"The boss is going to have your ass," Garrus repeated.

"Yeah, well, I'm not going to wait around while we lose the only lead we've got," Sandler replied. "I'm going."

"It's your badge," replied Garrus with a shrug.

"Look, do me a favor alright?"

"As long as it doesn't involve me going with you..."

"Don't say anything. I'm gone, he wakes up, whatever... you don't know where I am. 'Kay?" Sandler eyed him with concern in his eyes.

Garrus shrugged again and looked away, shaking his head in disapproval.

"C'mon, man. You don't have to say a goddamn thing..." Sandler pleaded.

"Fine, whatever," Garrus mumbled in the affirmative without making eye contact.

"I owe you," the other agent replied as he turned and disappeared into the night.

Two hours later, in the middle of the night, Agent Sandler pulled up, paying the taxi driver discretely as he got out of the vehicle in Brasov.

His eyes narrowed and he began walking towards the ominous castle, which seemed to regain some of its mystique in the chill darkness of the night...

If I were Tansy James... where would I be... Sandler thought to himself, his eyes searching with cautious footsteps.

************************************************** ***********
DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: Noon
LOCATION: St Petersburg, Russia

"Goddamn it's cold here!" Frankie Farelli cursed under his breath while pulling his coat tighter around him. "Why couldn't we go somewhere warmer instead, Tony?"

"Cuz the ting dat Sammy's got is here, you big wuss," Big Tony replied, shoving his compatriot in front of him, off the boat.

"Welcome to Russia," the dockyard overseer welcomed them in thick Russian accent. "Hopefully you brought more than two," he added, flashing a big pearly smile under a thick mustache and through a cigar he had smoked to a burning nub.

"Fuck you--I count for two by m' self," Tony said, giving Frankie another shove in front of him.

The overseer shrugged with his arms folded and then extended a gloved hand, "I don't really care how many you count for, as long as you count out my money for letting you into my country, comrade," he answered, flashing another greedy grin.

"Yeah, yeah, I got 'cher money right here, Federov," Tony replied, muttering under his breath, "fucking commie..."

"What you say?" Federov leaned in, his smile gone.

"Nuthin! I got your cash right here," Tony repeated, unfolding a sizable wad of American bills.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" Federov frowned, standing upright once more.

"Find a place to change 'em out for your shit currency, I guess," Tony said, wearing the grin now.

"Fuck you," was the only reply Federov could muster before snatching up the bills. "Get the fuck outta here and don' let me see you again until you've got more money. And pay me in rubles next time."

"You got my car."

"Yeah, straight to Moscow. I know. He's waiting outside, 'round the corner."

When Frankie and Tony had gotten into the black sedan, Tony pulled out his phone, changed out the SIM card, and dialed a number.

"Yeah. We're here. What?! What do you mean the fuckin' Russians have him?! FUCK!" Tony reflexively threw the cellphone against the glass separating the two passengers from the driver. Then his fat fingers fumbled for it as he picked it up again, realizing he would need to make another call. He pushed the buttons furiously with his chubby digits and waited with huffing impatience.

"Yeah! Vincenzo! I need some fucking assistance. Russians got Sammy. Yeah, fucking bastards are looking to get their dirty fucking hands on my merchandise! I need some fuckin' people in Moscow I can count on. Look, I don't care how you do it. NO, it doesn't fuckin' matter who! Just make 'em fuckin' reliable enough to do the job, will ya? Jesus! Look, if they get shot, we don't need to worry about it. I'll handle their boss, trust me. Don't fuckin' worry about it. I'll take care of it. Yeah. Thanks. We'll be there tonight. Make sure your guys are ready. Thanks, Vincenzo."

"What was that?" Frankie asked worriedly.

"Fuckin' commies got Sammy."

"Whaddare we gonna do?"

"Dint you hear me? We're goin' after 'im!" Tony exclaimed. Frankie Farelli knew better than to argue the point while his boss was in a foul mood.

"DRIVE!" Tony yelled, banging his hand on the glass.
************************************************** ***********
Date: August 20, 2042
Time: 10:15 PM
Location: En Route to Cachora, Peru

"God help me... Father in Heaven guide me..." he whispered, over and over, muttering as he pressed a cloth to his wound.

“Excuse me, I noticed your cut. Mind if I help? I’ve done so residential work at a hospital,” Nicolai said trying to be as straightforward and as nice as possible to this man who seemed to be in the hump of a bad day. “I’m Nicolai by the way, and might I suggest doing something quickly about that cut. Foreign land makes for nasty foreign germs.”

Father Francis started up again, nearly banging his head a second time. His searching eyes met those of Nicolai, which appeared warm and comforting to him. He couldn't understand it, but he felt some kind of recognition even, as though he knew this young man, somehow. Something in those eyes...

"Y-yes," the priest stammered, accepting Nicolai's hand and help, moving his things to make room. "Thank you, Nicolai. Bless you." Father Francis smiled briefly before suddenly becoming rattled again as the bus slammed down into another pothole, creaking and groaning before roughly righting itself. Father Francis's things went all over the floor in the last crashing dip, and the middle-aged man scrambled with frantic life to gather them all up to his chest, his eyes wide with fear, his breathing heavy and erratic. His tired eyes scanned the floor for anything still loose, but finding nothing, he stuffed the rest back into his own satchel.

"I'm... I'm sorry," Father Francis apologized, very clearly shaken. "I've just not had much rest, and I've been dealing with..." and then he paused as if catching himself before he said too much. His eyes met those of Nicolai once more, "Well, I've just been under a lot of pressure with a matter of some importance."

He shook his head suddenly, as Nicolai moved to bandage his head wound--not because he didn't want to allow him to do it; he did, but because he was half-distracted with trying to keep his wits about him, and not divulge too much information. So much to keep track of...

He realized he likely only left the young man with even more questions.

"You're going to Cachora too? To the ruins?" Father Francis offered, hoping to at least deflect any incoming questions by asking a couple of his own, while letting Nicolai tend his wounds. He noted that the young man really did seem to know what he was doing, and smiled gratefully. "Thank you," he muttered. "I consider myself blessed that you decided to come along on the same bus as myself, damned though it seems to be to hit every hole in the road!" the priest chuckled, his darker mood lifting.
************************************************** ***********
DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 2:30 PM
LOCATION: Memphis, Egypt

Shiloh questioned absentmindedly out loud “I wonder who those two are, they look so out of place here.”

"Who's that..." Max stopped, seeing the blonde-haired woman trailing another elderly professor-looking gentleman.

"That? My god, Max, I sometimes forget how you know nothing and no one outside of business opportunities," Harold replied, unable to resist another chance to take a shot at his old acquaintance. "That is Dr. Thomas Langdon, a well-respected graduate of Columbia who just happens to also poke around the ruins here on a regular basis, although..." Ashton paused, "... as much as I respect him, Cambridge expects me to compete with him to turn up artifacts faster and more frequently..." He turned with a raised eyebrow to Mr. Miller, "You see, sometimes, academia can look a lot like a competitive marketplace..."

This drew a "hrmph" from Max, who resumed his pace behind the old Englishman, who had started again for the Temple of Ptah.

"Unless of course you're were referring to his company," Dr. Ashton continued. "Never seen them before in my life."

This caused Max Miller to stop dead in his tracks and narrow his eyes at Shiloh again. Sarah noticed this and checked out Isaac and Shiloh as well.

"Who do you think they are?" she inquired, asking the question she knew was on her employer's mind.

"I'm not sure..." Max muttered, half in a fog. "There's... something... about them..."

"C'mon, Max. She's not that attractive..."

Mr. Miller glared at his assistant and corrected her, "That's not what I'm talking about." He then pulled out his satellite phone and called up his HQ. In a few minutes, someone answered.

"Bob, I need you to check around and find out if we have any leaks. I need to know if someone else has their people over here lookin' for the same things we are, and if so, who are they. I can't tell you much. There's a man and a woman here with a Dr. Thomas Langdon. See what you can find out about him and who he's been associating with and get back to me..."

"Think we've got competition?" Sarah asked, a hand on her hip.

Max kept eyeing the trio and then shook his head as he followed Dr. Ashton once more, brushing by her, "Either that or coincidence and I don't believe in that. Make sure you keep an eye on 'em."

Sarah nodded and turned to walk with him as they made their way across the ruins to the Temple of Ptah.

[Aheris]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 3:00 PM
Location: Guiliana's Room, Casa del Mar

The hot summer sun had passed by the window, but the lingering heat and humidity had not. The breeze that made the room bearable earlier in the afternoon had dissipated. The window stood open still, and the rickety combination of brass and wood that served as a ceiling fan turned. But the air lost neither its weight or stuffy aroma.

Guiliana turned, rolling her face into the pillow. Her plenitude of choppy, inky red-and eggplant streaked layers covered the remainder of her exposed face. Despite being moderately uncomfortable and overheating in her clothes, she was out relatively cold. Then she heard two quick taps on the door.

Stumbling over to the door, she opened it a slight crack to see Stephanie's smiling face.


Stephanie jumped a bit in suprise, resisting another urge to giggle. She had seen Guilana when she had woken up without getting ready, and it was quite humorous. Quickly smiling, she waved at her, thinking it the right response.

"Sorry, were you sleeping?" She asked, her voice a little groggy herself.

Guiliana opened the door wider, covering her yawn with one hand at the same time.

"Not well. Did you need something?"

"Uh ... how do we get .. umm... food service" Stephanie asked, unsure if she got it right. Many questions ran through her head, some more pressing than others. She wasn't going to let it show though, to protect her friends. She knew, if she could keep this fever up, she could keep Evalon from getting out.

Running her hands through her hair to attempt to smooth its wildness, Guiliana turned to the small end-table next to the bed. It was painted white, cracking and chipping in multiple locations, complete with worn brass hardware.

"Just dial zero from the phone over there."

"Ah, thank you. Sorry if I disturbed your sleep. Its just that I am a bit new to this stuff," Stephanie said, giggling nervously. She went to head over and wobbled a bit, still abit unsteady from her sleep and illness. She went to go pick up the phone and stopped, her eyes swimming.

"Uh.. did you want anything?" She asked, blinking.

Guiliana stretched her features into another yawn. Finishing, she blinked into response to Stephanie's blink.

"Maybe just a water, if you don't mind."

"Ah, oh okay." Stephanie said, stilfing a yawn of her own. Pressing zero, she listened to the musical tone on the phone, flinching at how it grated on her ears. She heard a female's voice at the end of the line, sounding a bit bored.

"Uh yes.. can I have some water and a ... grilled cheese and milk sent up to room... uh" Stephanie stammered a bit, not knowing what room they were in. She looked to Guilana, asking with her eyes.

"14b." Guiliana spoke in her low voice, meeting Stephanie's question with a quiet answer.

"14b. Sorry for that" Stephanie said into the voice. The woman responded with no problem, sounding like she had better things to do than listen. Either that or Stephanie was reading into things a bit too much. After a while, she rested the phone back into the cradle, the buzz hurting her head. Unconsciously massaging her head to try and aleviate the heat, she looked at Guilana, a bit unsure of what to do. Yawning against her will and letting her hand slide down, she looked around the room, taking in very little.

"So, how was the outing with Lance?" Stephanie asked, trying to keep up a bit of a conversation.

Guiliana tilted her head to the side. She looked at Stephanie curiously, trying to guess where the conversation was going.

"Ahhh...hm. Fine, I suppose. Just got to know each other a little bit more. Nothing really unusual." Guiliana was witholding, of course, the playful interaction between Lance and herself. That would just be...awkward.

"Did you manage to get some sleep?" She questioned politely.

"... uh, yeah, a bit," Stephanie said hesitantly, trying to repress the vivid nightmare she felt. It was true though, she had managed a bit of sleep. She looked around again, not keeping eye contact with Guilana while surveying the room. It was a nice place, if somewhat under-kempt. She fidgeted with her clothes, pulling at the hem to pull them away from the skin, where the sweat had dried.

"So.. this is a nice place, huh?" Stephanie asked.

Guiliana smiled tiredly as she watched Stephanie glance around the room. "It is nice. My father has been in the business and traveled long enough to find someplace...just about anywhere." Pausing, she squinted in the late afternoon light from the window.

"But you seemed like you wanted to ask me something."

"... uh ... Why did you decide to help me?" Stephanie asked, diving in head first. She looked down and shuffled her feet, slightly embarrassed at the question. She knew it might be a personal question, but couldn't think of a reason why anyone would like to help her. Least of all someone of Guilana's family name.


Guiliana's features were smooth and calm as she thought about the questions she had known would come sooner or later. She'd even asked herself this; From the beginning she did not trust Richard. His strange gloves and reclusive posture made her bristle. Seeing Stephanie there, Guiliana's distrust of the average population kicked in. He seemed like he wanted something from her. That's not a good sign.

"Heh. I didn't trust Richard in the slightest. You seemed vulnerable and he reminded me of some people I don't trust. So I wanted to give you the chance before having to escape someplace again." Guiliana finished this last, her voice tinged with a bare trace of bitterness.

"Ah.. well... thank you..." Stephanie said, holding out her hand. She had seen some of the guards do it where she 'lived'. After a few seconds, she dropped her hand while hoping for some sort of distraction. Luckily enough, room service came up at that second, allowing Stephanie to breathe a sigh of relief. Looking to Guilana, she waited for some idea of what to do next, unsure if she should stay hidden or not.

Room service entered with the small order. The grilled cheese looked rather naked and lonely laying on the plate by itself, toasty against the clean white of the service. Guiliana fumbled with her bag, reaching for a bill or two to tip the young woman who had brought up the order.

She handed the bill silently, the girl nodding her head as she backed out of the doorway.

Clearing her throat, she replied to Stephanie." You're welcome....and while a handshake isn't entirely inappropriate, it is a little distant." Her lips turned up slightly, and she placed her arms lightly around Stephanie's shoulders. Quickly, she kissed the air near one of Stephanie's cheeks, and then the other.

Stephaine blushed scarlet. unsure of how to react. Shuffling her feet a bit, she picked up the sandwich, unsure of what to do. Nibbling, she found it tasted marelous.

"This, is delicious" Stephanie said, ignorant of the previous moment. Taking much larger bites, she quickly ate through the sandwich, marveling at every bite with the same enthusiam as the last bite. Finishing it quickly, she felt a bit childish, took a sip of her milk. Her eyes went wide as the cool liquid flowed down her throat, its creaminess a cool comfort to the burning of her head.

"Hehe.. sorry about that. It's been a while since I have had good food like this" Stephanie said, clearing her throat to make it seem a little less awkward.

Guiliana did her best not to laugh, however good-naturedly, at Stephanie scarfing the sandwich. It's not as if it were her fault that she hadn't had a decent meal to compare with a cheese sandwich. In fact, it probably was very good cheese and butter, from local, happy cows. Guiliana would not be surprised if the milk was, too.

"Don't even worry about it." Guiliana responded, glancing for a moment outside the bedroom door.

She was suddenly seized by curiosity, wondering if Lance was still sleeping on the couch. From her current vantage, she could only see the back...Were those feet sticking out the side?

"Mm. I need a shower."

Stephanie blinked,looking in the same direction as Guilana. She noted the feet as well, and stared at them for a minute before noticing that her glass was emtpy, but she was still trying to drink from it. She set it down with a light clink, flinching inward at the noise. Her mind was dragged from its own pain by Guilana's last statment, a bit unsure how to respond.

"Ah... is there a . um.. TV? in this room? I could watch it while you take a shower... so we can figure out what to do from there?" Stephanie asked, dregging up small little tibbits that she had heard from the guards while they talked over her head, barely noticing her. She had connected it with the tv that was in the guard room, one she had been dragged to on many failed escapes.


"There isn't one in this side. There might be one in the other room, I didn't really look." Guiliana cocked her head to the side and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"About later...There are some salt mines that I want to visit tonight...But I don't know if those are exactly your cup of tea." Raising her eyebrows slightly and folding her arms close to her body, she said the last bit of her statement as if it were a question.

"Cup of tea? No thank you.... And that sounds interesting" Stephanie said, mimikings Guiliana. Her statement of tea had thrown her off. And how did tea connect to salt mines in any fashion.Either way, it would be interesting to hang out with her friends.

Friends... I have friends! Stephanie smiled at that thought, pleased to be able to say that again.

Guiliana chuckled at Stephanie's curious response to her mannerism. "It's just a saying, meaning something in your normal realm or not. The mines themselves may or may not be interesting...But they say that the starlight makes them sparkle." As she explained the mines somewhat, a gleam of excitement entered her expression.

"The stars are entirely different out in the forest...There are more of them than you could think are real." She smiled again with renewed enthusiasm for her plan.

"Here. You can take my tablet." As she spoke, Guiliana opened a guest account quickly and navigated to a movie rental website. "I already have a subscription here...Go ahead and pick out what you want to watch while I go girly-fy." She seems so young to me...

"A saying?" Stephanie said, taking ahold of the thing. It was slightly larger than the books she had managed to get ahold of before, and it was way thinner. Curious as to how it worked, she pressed her finger in the corner. The glowed for a second and made a chiming noise, covering the large screen with details of a movie she had pressed. She giggled at this and ran her finger along it, making the images fly by, shifting from vibrant reds to smooth blues, and everywhere inbetween. Another giggle escaped her lips as she flicked it again, making it go in reverse this time. Highly amused with it, she continued to run her finger along, making it shift to different images.

"May I hold onto this and watch in my room?" Stephanie said, still staring at the screen.

"Of course. " Guiliana responded, turning to her baggage sitting next to the bed. She began to rifle through her carry-on, fishing out various toiletries.

"Thank you," Stephanie said, still staring at the screen. She headed to her room, bumping into a few things while doing so. She made it with relative ease though, and sat down, mesmerized by the flickering lights. A cough forced a way through her amusement though, making her head flare with pain. She rubbed it, finding that it dulled a bit when she did that, which made her glad. She remembered that a fever was bad for her, as her mom had told her. But at this point, it kept Evalon from taking over, and that was worth the pain for her friends. She stopped rubbing her head and continued to flick through the screens, not really looking for something to watch, but just facinated by the flickering images.

"You're welcome..." Guiliana mumbled as she watched Stephanie go, from the corner of her eye. She watched until the door closed behind Stephanie, gathered up the remainder of her items, and ferried them into the bathroom.

Then, with a smirk on her face, she walked into the small living area. Taking her path behind the couch, she quietly slipped behind Lance.

"You ready to live up to all that big talk?" Guiliana whispered into his ear. Her confidence and playful, wry tone came through loud and clear despite the quiet volume.

[Anne Bonny]

DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 11:00 am
LOCATION: Bran Castle, Romania

“So, Tansy, what exactly are you looking for in this castle? Its not going to be more than a sentence or two in your article, right? Couldn’t you just look the place once over real quick, and then move on to other attractions?”

Tansy whirled to look at TJ in surprise. It wasn't until he had spoken his observation aloud that she realized how painfully, obviously foolish she had been acting.

Despite her firm belief that traveling to the castle must reveal some answers about the blood stone, so far the excursion had left her empty handed. Various artwork and relics decorated the castle here and there, each display with it's own little brass plate nearby telling what was what and what person from Romanian history it had to do with. But Tansy had quickly learned that the plates said next to nothing about what sort of talismans or jewelry people from the castle had worn. Instead, she took to examining portraits and other artwork for any sign of a red jewel.

At least, she assumed that it was a red jewel.

Sometimes her careful searching lead Tansy to squint at paintings from only inches away (her stern refusal to wear her glasses was coming back to bite her), which was exactly what Tansy was doing when TJ had asked his question.

She blinked at him blankly, wondering exactly what she should respond. If she came right out and told him the truth, she'd come off as a mad woman at best. If she played it off, she would have to cease her silly behavior and act more like the average tourist instead of some obsessed hunter, which could cause her to miss something.

It took a few seconds for Tansy to regain her composure, straightening her shoulders and letting that slight smile slip back into place. Still, a few seconds was too long when one has something to hide, she couldn't help but think.

"Oh, I was just looking at the clothes these people used to wear," she said with a short laugh. "Don't they look uncomfortable? Can you imagine getting dressed like this every day?"

Tansy gestured to the portrait of Queen Marie that she had been staring at. Then she paused, unsure of how to continue. TJ seemed nice enough, and she definitely wanted to keep him around as a companion during her stay. But what was the fine line of how much she should even talk about? What if there was more to this blood stone than she knew of? What if others were looking for it too? And... what if TJ was one of those others?

She shook her head. Now she was just being paranoid again. Without a second thought, Tansy plunged ahead.

"You know," she began again before she could think better of it, "I heard this crazy thing about a necklace or an amulet or something that Drac... I mean, Vlad the Impaler used to wear. I don't know if it was supposed to give him special powers or if it was a family heirloom or what. But it was like... a red stone. The color of blood."

She laughed lightly, as if at the absurdity of her words. "Anyway, I was just curious if we could see it in any of these old pictures. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bore you."

Tansy reached for his hand again and lead him to the next hallway of paintings. "I'll make it up to you later," she said with a wink. "What sort of other attractions did you have in mind, anyway?"

[Ad Infinitum]

DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 11:55pm
LOCATION: Bran, Romania


The vending machine gave a grumble before a soda dropped, and slouched over nearby, Gihst snuffed a cigarette beneath his boot, his breath fogging around an unhealthy cough. He retched, a wince pinching his features as pain brushed the walls of his chest, and then, a violent coughing spell came to stand on his chest the way a trapper kills a fox. Black spots blotted out the world as he leaned a forearm against the soda machine to steady himself. There was that same lingering taste of coal in his throat. He blinked the memory away with a hardened countenance, and catching his breath, his goggles flashed over his shoulder.

The bent back legs of some black animal exited the halo of a streetlight down the road and vanished, swallowed whole by the darkness. He gave no sign that he had seen and casually sauntered on, past the streetlight and into the park. There, framed by the split in the canopy along the wooded path, the distant Bran Castle was displayed under the orange glow of floodlights.

The castle had been dark when he had first arrived last morning. He tossed back the can of ginger ale, bemused. That meant the floodlights turned off at some point every night – he banked on this as he crouched down on the sidewalk, took out a utility knife, and hunched over his task with the empty can.

The top and bottom of the can were removed, then the remaining metal tube was slit down the middle so it could be rolled flat. From the sheet of aluminum, a square was cut out and carved into the shape of a fat letter M, flat-topped and rounded at the points. Then, the flattened top was folded down on itself and the two legs of the M were pulled up, folded into wings on either side of the spoon-like center point left free. Now he had a padlock shim.

The padlock on the gate to that closed castle stairwell was a key type, which typically had a double shackle. He made a second shim and discarded the scrap aluminum in a trash can, then slid both shims into the inner chest pocket of his coat. Just then, the clock at the center of the park struck midnight, and Bran Castle went dark.

The Scotsman pulled down those goggles to dangle about his neck; those eyes seemed to crackle as he looked up, his silver irises catching the lamplight in shattered slivers of stark white, like thin ice splintering on a winter pond. And tucking his hands deep into his long coat pockets, he side-stepped off the path, his retinas refracting with an animalistic glow before the gloom consumed him...


DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 12:10am
LOCATION: Bran Castle, Romania


The remaining sliver of the moon gave little light, just as the fingernail moon had promised last morning. Gihst was crouched low against the outer castle wall, motionless as he searched the darkness and silent as he pressed to listen, like the unwelcome rat in a hallway. Carefully, so carefully, he had waited like this for almost five minutes; there was still no motion in the forest below him, nor a sound but the breeze hissing through the leaves, and relaxing, he looked up to measure the wall above him. He quickly marked the easiest path with a glean of those fast, grabby eyes.

Leftward, there was a stone wall that had not been plastered over; it was a battlement whom's mortar had long since rotted out from between the staggered brick, leaving shallow gaps between them about the width of a finger. Three quarters of the way up, a thin stone ledge wrapped around the battlement and connected to a steep roof, from there, he could drop in through the courtyard. The old stone looked strong, and he knew the weight of the tower would keep those bricks pinioned in place.

He felt the wind swell, and as it sent another clamor through the treetops, he launched from his crouch into a sprint along the outer wall. After a good fifteen feet, he pivoted toward the battlement, threw his weight into two steps up the wall, vaulted upwards, then swinging up his hands and bending at the knees, he wedged his fingertips between the bricks. There he froze, clinging like a wasp on a windowpane; but as he listened, there was no evidence that he had been heard, no sign that the wind had not masked the noise. Once the moment passed peacefully, the task of scaling the battlement began, and almost effortlessly, he followed his chosen path and soon disappeared over the rooftops...


DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 12:15am
LOCATION: Bran Castle, Romania


There was no sound of the heavy deadbolt locks on the outside doors, no footsteps, no whispers, nothing in that absolute quiet. Gihst breathed, then returned to the task with the padlock as he squatted beside the stairwell gate.

He slid the sodacan shims into the crevices where the shackle locked inside the body of the padlock. Carefully, with his powerfully hands, he turned and pushed each shim in turn, allowing the shackle to take them with it into the locking mechanism. Sometimes the shims broke, sometimes the aluminum bent instead of slipping between the notch in the shackle and the latch, he took it slow.

The shims gently gave, and with a soft click, the padlock snapped open.

He immediately turned the freed shims unders his eyes; they had not been mangled during the process and he pocketed them.

So with that practiced silence, Gihst stepped inside, dummied the padlock through the gate, and crept down the stairs into a gathered darkness...

[Kris]

DATE: August 21th, 2042
TIME: 17:30
LOCATION: Some cheap 2 stars hotel, Moscow, Russia


The page... was missing...

The very same page she draw the star and written her notes on back in the isle's Library, was gone.

She dropped the bag beside the rest of its capacity that she emptied before, which included documents, books, food and her Camera (But that one was placed gently). She was so furious, a bit stressed even, at this discovery. If it were any other time she might have been more 'cool' about it, but now was definitely not the time to lose such a thing. She knew very well how important it was to hold all the cards she could in her hands and losing even one would mean possible death.

She tried to calm herself down, telling herself that whatever that was written in the paper couldn't be that important. (Right?). She closed her eyes as she tried to remember, gently tapping the sides of her forehead (even massaging her temples) in effort to speed up the thinking process. Then her eyes widen up as the memory just flashed up in her mind, looking like a PDF scanned version of the paper. That image just stayed there in her thoughts as if she was looking directly at it. She scrolled on it up and down as if her mind was a working computer and she was pressing the wheel of the mouse over the page.

SECTION G (The logo at the top of the paper)

Star-> Star of winter....

Meet Amilia at Majestic... (Irrelevant....)

Star is the presence of a divinity, an angelic messenger of a god, hope, eyes of the night, Gate of heaven. (Nice...)

Seal of Solomon-> Creation.

pentagram-> has magical associations.

(Scribbling of said star below)

Her eyes closed and the image faded as if she turned off some kind of a screen. When she reopened her eyes the normal vision returned to her and she found herself within that same cheap room she got herself into not so long ago.

She shivered.

What was this all about?! How could she do it?!

Still disturbed and rather shocked, she looked around at both sides of the small chamber while sitting on the bed, waiting to see if anyone took advantage of the fact she wasn't aware of the things going on around her, and entered the room while she was 'busy'.

Nothing.

She waited a bit longer, taking a deep breath and exhaling with a relief once her suspicions were proven false. She was not very peaceful lately. Ever since she left Cassandra's place she felt like she was much more exposed to danger and the fact those 'abilities' of her took over when she wasn't expecting them to, didn't ease her at all. She was still unused to them and it seemed that the more she found herself cornered and scared, the more those 'abilities' would present themselves to her. The key to activate them so far was a sudden heightened emotions rather than a personal will, which she didn't care for at all up until now, because she always feared those 'abilities' to begin with and she never truly wanted to explore more. Well, actually she did; Being the curious type of woman she was she found that gift of her to be fascinating, but truth was that her power has terrified her far more than it intrigued her.

Now, however, after everything she had been through, seen and heard in the last few days, she learnt to accept them with some serenity, but when her power just popped up when she was already too tensed, it did took a tool on her, increasing her fear and terror. For example, now was definitely not the time she wanted to lose sight of what was been going on around her just to see clearly some stupid paper. What if....HE.... was here.... and attacked her?! (She wanted to see something much more valuable before her death, rather than some PDF file!!!!!!).

She sighed.

And then she started to rethink this whole situation, concluding that it was rather interesting to say the least. If she could remember one page... what about... more important stuff?.... And how much more could she remember?

She looked around her again, noticing the front door and the door which led into the bathroom (That's just how terribly small the place was). She bit her lips knowing that the next action she aimed to try would take all of her courage to pull off, but if she wanted to explore more she had to let go, even if it meant she was going to be 'blind' and 'deaf' for the next couple of minutes.

"Okay, here goes nothing!"

She closed her eyes again, trying to actually summon up the abilities.

The feeling was rather unusual, far stronger than anything else she'd experienced before. It felt like her whole body was thrown into the ocean and she slowly sank into it, the awareness of the outside world faded with her and she heard and saw nothing just as if water were entering her ears and eyes. Everything was blurry at first as she kept diving deeper and deeper, however, the moment she knew she could dive no longer she gained some control back.

She was no longer aware of the 'outside' world and could only guess that she had somehow entered deep into her own subconscious. It happened so quickly and before long she found herself able to channel her actions and capable of choosing a memory to witness. Her eyes opened up and she saw what she picked up to see, which was a whole scenario from one winter while she and some friends sat in some coffee place. She closed her eyes, ending that thought with it. Then she wanted to remember something else. She opened her eyes only to see some other event (Which was a bit embarrassing to tell more about...). She closed her eyes, the vision gone as a smirk and a red line turned to adorn her face.

'Okay, let's get serious....'.

Now she wanted to see the vision of her notes, everything that she had written and read up until this point about the star. She opened her eyes again, the visions surfing and raising, but it was almost as if she opened a whole pack of documents, all at the same time. It was too much and it was hard to figure which was what, but at least the visions and images were pretty much solid and focused.

She closed her eyes as a big smile formed upon her face.

Everything was there.... Kept like it was placed inside a safe. She was valuable after all. This made her chuckle and she opened her eyes slowly, only to learn how hard it was to go back to reality after having the 'ability' to toy with your memories and actually messing with them some.

Sarina fell backward at the bed, her head hurting like she was having a terrible hang-over while crashing against the edges of the bed.

She moaned with pain.

(Definitely not her best of days)


***

She reached out her hands to the fire, the dancing flames somewhat easing her mind and that huge headache. (That increased the moment she thought how stupid was it to make such a tiny room have a fireplace rather than including something better, like a porch).

She looked back at her notes (which were still thrown all over the place) and wondered between herself if it was safe to continue carrying them all with her. If her bag was to be stolen, she feared that aside of losing her personal belongings, that she might help handing important information to someone who shouldn't even be aware of it. She feared for those notes far more than she did for her laptop, her cloths or even her other personal stuff. Even far more than she cared for her camera!!! (.... Well.... amm.... maybe....).

Sarina was wise enough to know from the start that she had something big in her hands and never kept records in her laptop about her findings, always cleaning her registry and bower's cookies, making sure nothing was kept after her use, however, to keep track she kept small notes that she wrote up from time to time. Now she realized it will be risky to have these notes with her. Not only because she feared robbery, but rather because she feared she might lose them somewhere, just like she lost that one page.

She was only human after all.

She rubbed her chin, thinking how would she handle herself from this point onward. She could give them to some safe keeping, but was there really someone trust worthy enough for the job? and besides... If there was someone capable of doing it, wouldn't she endanger that said person by handing her notes to him/her?

Her next option was hiding it somewhere, but history showed that nothing stayed a secret forever...

While still pondering she felt the warmth of the fire and her interest (and gaze) was diverted for the flames. A smirk appeared on her face as she watched the light dancing upon her hands in that gloomy room, adding some shades to her already bronze tanned skin.

Then her eyes widen up with a realization.

She don't need the notes.

She threw her glance back at the papers which included some sketches and finished images she draw not long ago. They were all so pretty and important to her, but she knew she couldn't keep them. She bit her lips and frowned, painfully accepting the idea that formed in her mind.

The next moment she got up and fed the papers into the fire. It was the best option for her. Everything was kept in her mind anyway so she won't need them, but burning things that were hers was still saddening regardless.

Waves of changing.

Gah!

She cursed fate for forcing her to do it while watching the black smoke that arose with the souls of the words and the images that once where her notes.

[Mysteria]

DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 2:30 PM
LOCATION: Memphis, Egypt

“I wonder who those two are; they look so out of place here.”

Professor Langdon scratched his chin, his blue eyes twinkling with the sparkle that Shiloh had remembered from her childhood days. Then the professor chuckled as he replied. “I’m not exactly sure, probably one of the backers, or possibly someone sent here to spy for the competition.” Langdon went on to explain about the politics behind college rivalries and academics.

Shiloh simply nodded, then turned at the sound of excitement as some new treasure was unearthed and watched with interest as each item was slowly and carefully brought out of its recent tomb in the ground. The thrill of seeing something that was centuries old for the first time as a little girl came racing back to her again now.

The feeling had not changed. Her blood felt like it quickened in her veins as a worker used a small brush to gently remove some dirt from what looked to be a remnant of an ancient clay cup, inscribed with some form of hieroglyphics that she didn’t recognize.

"There's... something... about them..."

Upon hearing the strangers’ voice, Shiloh turned her head, her eyes scanning the old man and younger woman with him. While Shiloh couldn’t exactly read lips, she knew enough to be able to determine what the mousey blond woman had said.

"C'mon, Max. She's not that attractive..."

Shiloh’s dark eyes narrowed, her hand tensing in Isaac’s. bitch…she murmured under her breath. Isaac must have heard the other woman’s words too, and squeezed Shiloh’s hand, attempting to calm Shiloh with his smile. His smile was weak though, and Shiloh was worried that Isaac having traveled so soon had been a mistake. Although he seemed to appear to have healed outwardly rather quickly, he still looked tired.

She watched the man whose name she’d caught to be Max and quickly determined that his interest in her small group was obviously just more than that of a college rival or excavation backers. If she wouldn’t know better, she could have sworn he was studying her and Isaac, and not the artifacts that could be found all over the place.

Shiloh remembered something that Micah had said to her at the edge of the park back in Alesia that day “The relics are the key.” Nothing that Micah had said to her that day had made any sense and she certainly hadn’t understood any of it, yet alone believed any of it.

Suddenly Shiloh began to wonder if perhaps the additions she sought to add to her collection were more than just mere “artifacts or collectibles”. What scared her even worse was what if everything about Micah had been real? What if everything he said, if everything that he had told her, had been true?

She turned to say something to Isaac then, observing that not only did he appear to be as ill as she’d suspected, but Isaac appeared to be staring directly at her; yet at the same time distant like he was lost somewhere, deep in his own thoughts, then turned back to look at the stranger. The sound of Professor Langdon’s voice interrupted her thoughts as he was explaining some of the glyphs on the pottery that had just been found. She turned her attention back to him, deciding that she may have more questions for him later, after they were out of earshot of the stranger and the woman with him.

Then Shiloh looked at Isaac again, noticing in the sunlight the deep lines of his face, the uneasy, distant look in his eyes and she couldn’t help but wonder just what was going on deep inside of the mind of Isaac Scott.

[~N~]

DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 8:00 PM
LOCATION: Brasov, Bran, Romania

Brother Stephen Martucci arrived in Brasov like a shadow, standing out only as much as anyone else might, despite his priestly garb. The Pope had given him an illustration, as well as copies of a few pieces of old pamphlets that seemed to describe the relic known as the Bloodstone. Its whereabouts could be anywhere, but it was the Vatican's guess that it was here, now. The question that remained on everyone's mind was where...?

The relatively small town of Brasov became as expansive as a world to the young priest, but he had incentive enough to turn over every rock and look in every dark corner if he had to, for the Holy Father's words echoed clearly in his mind:

"Find this relic, my son, and you shall be Cardinal."

That was a coveted position that could sometimes take an entire lifetime to achieve, and for many was never a position they would enjoy.

Being Cardinal meant having a chance at being a future Pope and that was an opportunity the young priest was willing to do almost anything for.

The piece of parchment Brother Stephen had contained some enigmatic lines scribbled in script, written in Latin--the language of the Church. Translating the words came second nature to Brother Stephen. They read as follows:

Under moonlit skies, nothing seen;
in darkness only come the screams,
that vanquish kings and set alight
the fires that burn the cribs tonight
and quench the thirsty blades the blood
that turns the earth to crimson mud
erected high upon the poles
the droplets drip and slip the souls
out from those corpse trees
into the sky, an army flees
and a villain cries out his boasts
upon the winds, while bodies roast
in sun-burnt skins, where round the neck
on iron hooks, lies a jewel of blackest
bloody looks, before the fire
only seems, the crimson tint
of that macabre feast...

"Under moonlit skies, nothing seen..." Brother Stephen looked up, seeing the faint thin crescent of a fading moon rising across from a fiery setting sun. "Under moonlit skies, nothing seen..."

Suddenly his eyes went wide, and he ducked into a nearby gift shop, those same wide eyes searching frantically for a calendar, of all things. When he found one, he nearly knocked over a display case, but flipping to August, he scanned the weeks post haste and found what he was searching for:

There would be a New Moon on the night of the 22nd.

************************************************** ***********
DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: Midnight
LOCATION: Strait of Gibraltar

"Cross the sea into the endless Ocean, past the Pillars of Hercules, where the North Wind may bless your insignificant passage with a gale frigid and deadly enough to turn your already pale heart to ice..."

Her words, whispered into his left ear upon lips that could seduce any man of flesh, cut into his spirit like daggers. She told him that the Ocean was only the first step to the darkness he sought, and that it would most likely consume him, swallow him whole, and never let him out. Such was the bitter fate he asked for, such was the path that sleeplessly he pursued, aboard a private yacht he rented on company funds, his eyes peering westward as the ship sailed through the Strait of Gibraltar.

Jeremy clenched his teeth tightly, his jaw muscles flexing as a blast of unnaturally frigid air hit the vessel and himself, nearly sending him right over the starboard railing as his pale fingers gripped the cold metal rungs while he dangled mere feet above the tumultuous waves. His long black coat whipped as violently as the winds through his dark hair, but with gifted strength, he pulled himself back up on deck, climbing back on board like a washed up drowned man.

The tempest had only begun to work him over, but with that slap to his face, she had clearly given her approval of him... and he responded with a fanged smile pressed against the deck while the ship rocked dangerously about the waves...

************************************************** ***********
DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 9 PM
LOCATION: Beneath a strip bar called "T&A" in Moscow

A few hours earlier a note was slipped under the door to Sarina's apartment containing information about the following meeting...

"Listen up," a man in black clothing that looked like a suit bellowed out in a thick Russian accent.

"You all have been called here on behalf of Tony Iglesias," he explained with open arms, "or, 'Big Tony' as you might know him. You were notified because you like money and you don't care who's paying." Some chuckles went up in the crowd.

"You also were picked because as far as we know, none of you have any current connections with the Russian Mob. Who knows how you've managed to survive up to this point, but the point is..." he paused for dramatic effect, looking around the room, "we don't care. And neither does Tony, apparently." More scattered laughter.

"Tony is putting up fifty-thousand dollars in cash which will be split up among the survivors of our little 'raid' on any Russian mobsters we will encounter. It is no secret that some of you work for the police--" the man acknowledged, "--we're counting on that. If some mob players are taken out in the action, you will obviously receive a promotion and credit that the rest of us... regrettably... cannot take." This speaker was just a regular riot.

"However, as it is known that some of you may not survive this, you face a bigger piece of the reward the more bloody it gets..."

"Are there any questions?" the speaker offered with an arched eyebrow.

"Yeah, what are we doin' besides killin' the other guys?" one man shouted out.

"Tony says they've taken something of his, or someone..." the speaker replied, "... he wasn't clear on that. He means to get his 'stolen possessions' back."

"What if we decide to 'steal' it instead?" asked another.

"Well then, you all know who to shoot next," the speaker said, pointing to the man who just asked the question.

"When do we get paid?"

"When Tony gets what is his, and you're still alive to see it."

"What else is he after?"

"Some kind of relic... some star or something.... apparently it's very valuable on the black market."

"Why not just take it for ourselves?"

"Because that would make you the next one to be dead," the speaker reminded the crowd.

"So we go in, kill everyone but Tony and his guys, and look for this thing... and a man?"

"If the man is still alive, yes. His name is "Sammy". The thing, Tony says, is more important."

"Where are we going," a low voiced man in the back asked.

"Tony's informants say that they are moving the relic and Sammy through one of three Metro stations tomorrow evening... the relic and or Sammy could be anywhere in those three--that's the best our source can give us."

"Like an old shell game..." muttered another voice in the crowd.

"Yes," replied the speaker, "Like a shell game. Have fun!"

[Koti~]

Date: August 20, 2042
Time: 3:30 pm
Location: Guilana’s room

Stephanie was still mesmerized by the tablet, each swirl of her finger sending images flashing across the small screen, not even focused on the words of the pictures themselves. She ran her finger across the screen, and the images disappeared once her finger hit the top right corner. Her eyes went a bit wide as she gripped the tablet, wondering where the images went, and hoping that she hadn’t broken it. Her curiosity was piqued when she noticed a blinking button at the bottom of the screen. Glancing around her room as though someone was going to jump out at her, she pressed the button.

The screen went black as small little pictures floated up onto the screen, each one standing out vividly in her eyes, to annoying levels. She glanced around them, unsure of some of them, others making a bit of sense. One such drew her attention; it looked like a broken M, with some weird scribbles on their sides, with the wording under it ‘games’. She pressed it, causing the images to vanish, and more to appear. She looked through some of the new pictures, one looking like a small window frame with a heart in it. The most interesting one was a simple ball in the lower corner. She pressed it, and nearly tossed the tablet into the ground.

“UAH!” Stephanie had jumped back as music sprang into life, thinking the only thing this could do was make binging noise. She looked at the screen, which had an ‘alien’ look to it. That was the closest she could come to that thought, having seen something similar on TV in the hospital. A second screen appeared over it, with “How to” typed at the top. She began reading, pulling the tablet close and her legs folded under her. She smiled as she began, the game eliciting laughs from her as each action made noise.

Time: 3:40 pm

She was fully engrossed in the game, not even noticing the time or the points she had ranked up, on her last ‘ball’ as it was called. Suddenly the game went black as some sort of image showed up, a little jingle pealing out of the Tablet.

“AAH!” Stephanie nearly jumped out of her skin as she tossed the tablet away from her, the tablet landing on the pillows luckily. She glanced at it, and remembered the picture on the screen. It was an envelope, which made her smile that she knew what it was. She was tempted to go tell Guilana, but remembered that she had gone to grab a shower, so she sat there, staring at the screen. She was slightly sad that she would be unable to play ‘Pinball’ anymore, but she made sure to tap it each time it went black, so she could tell Guilana when she got out of the shower.

[Kris]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 20:15
LOCATION: Outside of the strip bar called "T&A" in Moscow

She looked up at the address's number.

Then back at the paper she was holding.

Then up again at the building in front of her.

Feeling rather unsure she dropped her gaze slowly back at the note, hoping there was some kind of a mistake here; That by sheer misreading she might have overlooked something, mixing up the street's number, or hoping that her Russian was still somewhat lacking and bad which will explain why she didn't understand the intention of the anonymous sender.

Nope. There was no mistake on her part.

Her hands shivered with anger and embarrassment causing the small piece of paper to vibrate madly with every movement of her body.

(What kind of a sick joke was this?!)

The neon logo of a woman bending and then pressing herself against a stick between each red flash only added more color to Sarina's crimson line upon her face (T&A, huh?... She could come up with a very good idea for the name's meaning). The fact that more and more men (Some of them drunk) gathered around and entered the place (while shoving her from side to side as they did so) didn't help to ease her.

"Glad you could come", a voice called from behind which was a bit too comfortably familiar to be true. She turned around slowly and noticed the dancer from before (If they kept getting hooked up like that, she might be forced to ask for his name). There was no way of mistaking the sender's identity now.

*Flashback*

She remembered the quick knocks on her hotel's room door. They followed right after she successfully hacked into a Wi-Fi of a secured net she wanted to log onto. Sarina didn't had much of a technical's computer experiences but she was able to perform some basic computer fixing and analysis of problems (Mostly as a result of Section G's daily malfunctioning of printers and copy machines). In addition, her wonderful skill of patience used her well whenever she tried to unlock a password, code or a game's CD key. The thing was that she had no problem of figuring out the mathematic or logical combination of passwords (it was like solving a crossword puzzle to her). Little need to say that only recently did she realized that it must had something to do with the fact she could remember what letters or numbers proved to be wrong and invalid in said combination.

She never thought it was okay to do so however. She knew it was illegal... but sometime... Well.. She just let the worst in her to take over in order to gain something. Like in this case, for example, when she felt she had no other choice but to pull it off. She was cut off the net for a long time and she felt she had to get herself informed somehow, in order for her to advance and move on.

The moment she logged into the server she realized there was also a file stored there, marked with a 'shared' folder icon. She twiddled her fingers and bit her lips. She told herself it was wrong to try and download it, but... but...

She clicked on the mouse and at that same time she heard steps coming closer to her room's front door. She flinched, quickly getting off the bed to stand behind the wall. Few quick knocks followed next (in a rather playful rhythm, trying to create some kind of a music beat with it). She reached for the door's handle, opening it slowly as her back leaned against the wall near the edge of the opening curve and by so she aimed to surprised the comer should he decide to do more than just knocking (better safe than sorry).

The door remained slightly open but nothing came inside aside of a transparent air. She slowly approached the door as she peeked outside carefully.

Nothing.

She opened the door wide while looking from one side to the other. The sight which welcomed her was that of an empty corridor with closed white doors and out of order elevator at the edge of the right wing.

Somewhat annoyed she sighed and turned around to face her small room. She was about to close the door behind her when she noticed the tiny paper on the ground. She lifted it up and read it, the Slavic letters jumping to welcome her, but she understood them as if she was reading in her own mother language.

Surprised of the message, she looked around again, hoping that whoever that knocked and left it behind will show up now. She re-read it while entering her room and concluded that whoever that handed her the note wanted her to show up at that said location. It also hinted her that he/she knew Sarina and was aware that she was staying in that said hotel.

Her eyes widen as another realization stroke her.

She was no longer safe here too.

Without even changing her cloths she packed up again, quickly cleaning up the ashes around the fire place and stepping outside, locking the door behind her as she did so.

*Flashback Ends*

He waved, a wide goofy smile upon his face and Sarina couldn't help but be even angrier, despite the fact that deep inside she knew the whole situation was rather dangerous and she should have been scared (Definitely not over confident and capable of holding her ground like she was doing now). She was so furious that all she could do to answer his welcoming gesture back, was to hold up the paper in front of his face, tap on it like a teacher would while presenting a bad marked test in front of a pupil and demanding for explanation from that said child.

When he continued to smile like the jerk he was she pointed up at the stripper logo, just to make sure he got the hints of what was upsetting her.

He chuckled, "Well, let's get inside", he said.

(Inside... wait... that was NOT what she meant here!!!......)

She frowned, her eyebrows narrowing slowly, but she stared at him with a rather defeated gaze as she twisted her mouth some to the left, clearly unhappy with this whole situation, but she still allowed him to led her inside. However, the moment he tried to entangle their arms together in a gentleman type of gesture, she just rolled her eyes, pushed away his hand and stormed inside (There was just as much she was willing to give up that night, and she didn't wish to let him have the idea she was okay with their new forced relationship. She was not. Not one bit!).


***


So... Turns out there were girls in a strip bar after all...

Amusing.

True, most of them were either the waitresses or the girls on stage, but there were at least SOME around. It eased her a bit as she drank the cola the guy ordered for her (He teased her about the fact she was not willing to drink any alcohol, but didn't push into this too much).

The place had a pure illumination, but that was a given, considering the mood the place aimed to achieve. The brighter area had to be the pool zoon where many Lamps hanged in clear rows above the tables as colorful balls were sent flying all over. Thick line of smoke marked the place as a perfect nesting spot for tattooed machos brutes.

So far they pretty much blended into the public (of Lecherous, sweating guys. Testosterone high in the air), but Sarina could not help herself from thinking how casual she looked. It was still a bar regardless and she felt out of place (and untidy). It didn't help that the girls were all so beautiful around her and were dressed (or undressed) appropriately.

Frustrated, she dug her gaze at the glass, drinking more of the black bubbling liquid. The only consolation she had to this unbearable situation was the fact that the dancer was sitting next to her. He WAS a good looking man after all (Which didn't change the fact she hated his guts) and it did feel good (In a twisted sick way) to have someone like him as a company. At least one of them was to be the night's attraction.

For a long while they just sat in one cabin, upon adorned chairs that resembled small sofas, yet, much as comfortable as it was to sit there in the dark (away from the main stage) she still felt uneasy and stressed. He, on the other hand, was rather relaxed as he leaned his muscular upper torso against the back rest, a white elegant half buttoned shirt over his chest, covering just enough to tease while allowing his hands to sprawl over the edges of the chair. His fingers did reach long enough to touch the tips of her black hair, but Sarina wasn't sure if he was truly playing with her locks or if it was just the breeze coming from the air conditioner which was placed right behind them. Just to make sure she wasn't over looking into it, and to calm her overworking paranoid mind, she simply moved herself some inches away. (Better safe than sorry).

She kept on sneaking quick glances at him and was surprised to learn that: a. He didn't even bother to look back at her, b. Unlike her stressed expression (Which she was sure her face was wearing), his expression reminded rather dull. Was it because the place was a fancy one or because of the atmosphere, Sarina couldn't tell, but it looked like he was feeling at home here. Being an actor who was used to grotesque shows must had something to do with it, but maybe that was just part of his personality. Regardless, his tranquility calmed her spirit and she felt herself relaxing. In the end she even slowly let go of the glass, which she held onto tightly before as a substitute for her camera.

About some time later, when she felt like she was almost falling asleep there, few tough looking men entered the place.

"Show time", he said all of a sudden while smiling like a hungry beast as he grab her hand (a bit too forcibly) and led her into another empty cabin, and from there to another. They followed this silent type of a route and chairs (Sarina amazingly doing her part by keeping herself quiet as she obediently followed his lead) until they reached a red curtain beside one of the last cabins in that raw.

He looked back at her, holding up a straight finger to his mouth, marking her that from this point onward she is not allowed to speak. He even pressed with some more force over her wrist just to make sure she got the hint. She restrained a moan under her breath, her eyes closed as she twitched with pain. He slowly let go of his hold and waited for her to look back at him. She gazed up, tears gathering in her eyes, but her expression was certain. He nodded once as if asking if she got the message. She gritted her teeth, wishing she could punch him in the face, but instead she swallowed her pride and nodded back at him, agreeing to this unspoken contract. She will keep her mouth shut.

With another nod he removed the red curtain, revealing a secret path which the two descended into by a stairway.


***


DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 21:30
LOCATION: Beneath a strip bar called "T&A" in Moscow, an isolated chamber.

Sarina heard and seen the whole conversation through cracks in the stony wall they were pressed against. Conveniently there were some higher holes and the man with her didn't need to bend to take a peek (Standing so close to him presented clearly to her just how much of a tiny woman she was).

He considered everything he heard and she did the same, for what they came to pass was not something that one should be treated with lightly.

"So the tournament begins", he licked his lip as that arrogant smile overtook his face.

Sarina shivered, her eyes widening with a surprise. His grin has remained her just how much she feared him. It was unintelligible how can one human make you feel so good, almost natural to be with, and in the next moment that said human making you feel like you were caught up in some mice/cat hunting game, where you have to keep yourself guarded with some distance apart.

"What... What will happen next?", she asked slowly. She tried to sound confident but her voice betrayed her.

He laughed, "The obvious. The strong survives, the weak dies and the winner gets all the riches. Fascinating, huh?".

"... Why did you sent me that note?", she asked again and twitched when his laughing voice echoed some more in this tiny space.

"The answer is a rather simple one. I just wanted to make this game more interesting...", he winked.

Sarina swallowed, "No... You're not the kind of guy to give hints for charity... You need me to find out more... don't you?", she slowly looked up, barely daring to assume that what she suspected was right.

He smiled and reached out his hand for her face. She flinched and looked away, closing her eyes tightly. When she felt that nothing was coming to get her, she looked back only to see that his hand had halted in mid-air, few inches from her face.

"Clever girl", he said with a voice that was heard to read his intention from, so she had no idea if he was angry or pleased with her, "Now... go and find us the star... we have less than a day...".

She nodded slowly, fearing to make any additional move. Obviously she didn't aim to find the star for HIM, but if she wanted to leave this place in one piece she had better play along and let him hear what he wanted to hear from her.

"Good", he said. His hand moved closer and he mimicked a gesture of a cheek caressing without making any actual contact with her facial's skin (That touching- not touching game was already too stressing to being with, but he was to be credited for not trying to have any moves on her).

Less than a day...

Will that be enough?

[~N~]

DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 2:30 PM
LOCATION: Memphis, Egypt

Then Shiloh looked at Isaac again, noticing in the sunlight the deep lines of his face, the uneasy, distant look in his eyes and she couldn’t help but wonder just what was going on deep inside of the mind of Isaac Scott.

"Isssss-iiiiik" the hissing musical voice called out with malicious soft tones in his ear. "Isssss-iiiiiik," it called again, closer this time to his consciousness. "What are you doing, Isssss-iiiiik?" "Isssss-aac?"

Shiloh's face appeared before him, her eyes full of concern as her sweet lips turned down into a pout. She reached out to caress his face, but something was off about her arm...

... shimmering shadows slid quickly over her skin, passing in instantaneous whispers along her careful fingers, and just between her frowning lips, was a lingering darkness that flickered like the end of a serpent's tongue.

"NO!" Isaac started back, stumbling away from Shiloh with a flash of abject horror upon his face, putting out his right hand and turning away. "Stay back!" These actions were sudden and unexplained to Shiloh Thompson and Professor Langdon, but Isaac knew exactly what he was seeing.

"Isssss-iiiik!" the malevolent, hissing voice, unnaturally called out to him again from "her" lips, "Don't make a scene, Isaac. Something terrible might happen... all this sun... heat... dry, dusty place... enough to make a man do unspeakable things... things that might get buried in the dirt and sand.... like so many bodies... just waiting for their chance to sssssspeak of retribution."

Isaac found himself clawing at his eyes, wanting this damn vision to just go, to leave him. At the back of his mind, he was barely aware that... somewhere, the real Shiloh and Langdon and anyone else were witnessing this... this breakdown. But he couldn't... couldn't go and let this thing have it. Have here. Have the world.

"STOP!" he barked out, summoning the wild, fatal courage of man who turns to face an enemy he cannot possibly hope to survive. "Stop tormenting me! JUST LEAVE!" Isaac arched, as though he was wracked in pain, because truly, he could feel its tendrils spearing his soul, sending hooked bars into the essence of his being as it wrapped him tighter in its embrace, all the while, the serpent's tendrils of its tongue slipping further from her pink lips, slipping closer to his own... closer to silencing..."

His fingers went into his mouth, knuckles digging past his teeth, as he tossed over, looking like a man who dug madly for a wasp that had flown behind his teeth. Isaac's whole body shook, and for all the world, he was in dire need of help, fighting a hopeless battle with a foe nobody else in the world could possibly see or fight for him.

"Get away from me!" his right hand shot out, palm up, anticipating the worried approach of Langdon, Shiloh, or anyone else. Warning them to stay back. But he was clearly suffering, clearly in pain.

"Isssss-iiiik.... you owe me this... you promised me this... you swore to get me what I want.... you know what I think of liars, don't you, Isaac? You know what I do to LIARS, don't you?"

He mouthed the word "Please..." over and over, gasping, his eyes full of pain, but no words came out... only strands of spit and saliva and blood crept over his fingers. It was as though he was suffocating... gasping for breath within the trappings of plastic wrap.

"Get. Up. Isaac." the voice commanded him. His whole body convulsed.

"You heard me, Isaac. Get. Up." But Isaac only shook, convulsing, drooling, seizing up in the clutches of the enemy that even now, slipped its black tendrils straight into his mouth, as he desperately tried to claw them out, gurgling, choking... drowning.

"Then I will seize it... you... her..."

"NO!" At that moment he jerked back, his body going pale and rigid with cold drops of sweat, paralyzed in a catatonic state of desperate terror masking over the cold, bitter, hidden struggle going on within... a spiritual struggle that warred for Isaac's very soul within the tomb of his body, mummified in a coma in the Egyptian ruins...

A secret locked deep inside the ruin of his own being...

The scene of the man... defeated upon the sand... was impossible to ignore for anyone around...

[Cookies Ahoy]

DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 11:01 AM
LOCATION: Bran Castle, Romania

Allowing Tansy to take him down the next hallway, TJ walked in silence for a bit. It seemed pretty obvious what the girl was getting at. The idea tempted him for a few seconds, then he decided it wasn’t like the Corps, where he only had one day of leave with a woman he just met -if he played his cards right, he would have all week with her.

“Well we could always go into town and get some lunch in a bit, and maybe see some of the sights in town. There’s a pretty nice club that has some alright local bands, and sometimes big bands come in, anyway, its a pretty fun place to hang around,” TJ answered, then added, “It might be some useful stuff for your article.”

"Oh!" Tansy replied brightly. "Sure, that'd be great!"

If he had caught on to her peculiar behavior, TJ didn't indicate it. Tansy welcomed the change of subject, anything to take the attention off her seemingly odd infatuation with the long dead inhabitants of Bran castle.

She gave his hand a squeeze. "Much more lively than wandering around this dusty old place, hm? Sounds fun."

TJ let out a light laugh, then said, "Sure is. Did you want to follow me in your car, or ride with me?"

He assumed Tansy had gotten a rental car, like most travelers would. He also assumed she didn't want to just jump in a car with a stranger, but he could be wrong, she was holding his hand already after all; which told him she was a rather trusting person.

You mean right now? Tansy almost asked before quickly snapping her mouth shut. Of course he meant right now. There was really no point in either of them hanging around in the middle of what was essentially a boring history lesson. She certainly wasn't the type to be interesting in the more intellectual things in life, and he sounded like a man of action instead of study. So if she was going to keep up appearances and not let him get weirded out and slip away...

"I took a cab, actually," she replied with a grin. "So if you don't mind, I'd love a ride. I don't know if all the taxis in Romania smell like that one did, but I'd rather not find out."

"Oh, alright then, my trucks that little black one over there," TJ said as he pointed out his vehicle.

Thank goodness I keep it clean, TJ thought. He couldn't stand having a dirty truck. Aside from a few essentials he had under the seats, the truck was spotless, inside and out. The same couldn't be said about his apartment, one of the many reasons why he didn't invite her there. First impressions mattered.

TJ opened Tansy's door for her, like any gentleman would. Then, climbed into his seat and turned the key in the ignition. He rode the clutch a little more than normal while backing up, a habit he couldn't break, though he had tried countless times.

As the the truck rolled on down the road, TJ asked, "So, what travel magazine do you right for?" trying to learn a bit more about the young woman he had just met.

Tansy twirled a strand of blond hair around her finger while watching the scenery pass by, doing her best to keep from staring longingly back at the castle. It wouldn't be her last time within it's walls though. She would make sure of that. There had been no visible clues to the blood stone there. Which meant that if the gem was at the castle, it was hidden away from the public eye. She would just have to find a way to get behind the public eye. Already, mischievous thoughts were swimming in Tansy's head. Would the man at her side be included in her plotting? That remained to be seen.

"It's called 'Break Time'. And don't act like you've heard of it. No one ever has." She shifted in her seat to lean against the door, facing TJ. "To be honest, it's kind of a rinky-dink little operation. I just like the perks of being able to travel. What other job do you get to go on vacation and get paid for it?"

She paused, letting her eyes trace over the muscles in TJ's arm as he shifted gears. "And what about you? How do you like working security in Romania?"

TJ let out a sigh as he focused on maneuvering the winding roads, "Well its definitely not the Marine Corps. Those days were fun," TJ paused as thoughts of the good 'ol days flashed in his head for a moment, "Nah, working security is usually pretty boring. Every once in a while I get to throw someone around that isn't supposed to be in our secure area, but that's about it. Plus you don't really get to meet people."

It was difficult for Tansy to keep her grin in check. She rather liked the idea of having a personal bodyguard, even if he didn't realize that's what she had been hoping for. "That's good for me. I'll have you all to myself today then," she replied before glancing out the windshield.



DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 11:45 PM
LOCATION: Rasnov, Romania

TJ and Tansy did truly have the day to themselves. After getting back into town from the castle, TJ reccommended a casual little cafe for lunch. From there, the two strolled around town without much direction, simply taking in the sights like any good tourist. Tansy had plenty of time to kill before nightfall when she could carry out her still-forming plan to get back into Bran Castle. So while not everything in town was terribly fascinating, she at least pretended to be interested. But with the friendly TJ at her side, pretending to enjoy herself wasn't so very hard to do.

Dinner was at another restaurant, where TJ suggested they have drinks at the nightclub he had mentioned before. Tansy had considered a quick trip back to the hotel to change, but decided that she didn't really want to be trying to sneak into the castle later in heels, so it was straight to the club.

One drink in, Tansy took it upon herself to try to convince her companion to join her on the dance floor without much success. When she finally gave up after the second round, the girl insisted instead on paying for their third.

But when she opened her purse, a puzzled look came over her face. Tansy pawed through the little bag, removing a few items (lip gloss, sunglasses, gum) and put them on the table.

"I can't find my wallet," she said with a frown as the rustleing through her purse grew more frantic. "TJ, I don't know where it is! The last I had it was..."

She bit her lip in thought before her eyes moved to meet his. "It was when I paid my admission into the castle."

TJ sighed, trying to sympathize with Tansy, then comfortingly said, "We could go get it tomorrow. I'm sure they found it and are just holding onto it."

The bartender looked at the two with annoyance. For him it seemed a huge inconvenience to have to wait more than a few seconds to get payed for his drinks. He let out a cough. TJ didn't even look at him, instead just tossing his card to the man. The bartender quickly swiped it and returned it, then left to treat other customers.

"You might want to cancel your cards though, before you get any unexpected charges," TJ added over the chatter of the club.

Tansy's blue eyes widened. "Tomorrow?" she repeated, shocked that he would even suggest such a thin. "I can't wait until tomorrow! My passport was in there. And my hotel key! All my cash, my cards... Oh god, my company credit card was in there! TJ if I lose that..."

She ran her fingers through her hair. "Oh no. Oh, I'm going to be so fired."

He hated seeing anybody so worked up about things, and TJ would feel bad if Tansy did get fired. The castle was closed though. Breaking in would be stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course, if Tansy were fired, he wouldn't get to spend the rest of the week with her.

"Tansy, relax," TJ said calmly as he grabbed her free hand, then paused, "If you really need to we can go tonight."

She sniffed and looked up at him through watery eyes. "Really? Oh my gosh, TJ, that would be so wonderful! You'd be my hero!"

Tansy leaped to her feet without any more hesitation and grapsed TJ's hand again, tugging him anxiously to the door before he could think better of it.


DATE: August 21th, 2042
TIME: 12:18 AM
LOCATION: Bran Castle, Romania

TJ's truck pulled into the dark parking lot with its lights off. He pulled off the asphalt and parked his truck away in the dark veil of the surrounding forest.

Throwing a flashlight into his backpack, and handing another to Tansy, TJ said, "If someone found it already, then its most likely locked up in their back offices," trying one last time not to commit to sneaking into the castle.

She nodded quickly, heart pounding with excitment. "Then maybe that's where we should start," Tansy replied, completely missing his point. Her flashlight clicked on and she started toward the entrance. "You're the security guy, you probably know about these things. What's the best way to get in?"

"Most likely a window. Follow me," TJ said quietly as he walked to the other side of the castle, "And turn off your flashlight for now. We don't want to draw any attention to ourselves. We're kinda breaking the law."

It didn't take long for TJ to find what he was looking for. A low window, ten feet off the ground give or take some, with a means of climbing up to it. The wall had some recesses in it from age and abuse. Silently, he scaled the wall and into the window's deep cavity where he could sit.

Quickly scanning the dark room through the less than clear window, TJ made sure no one was in the room. Then he reached into his backpack and pulled out a knife, and began to slide it under the window and search for the latch. It took a few minutes, and TJ had to stop more than once when he heard the wooden frame creak for fear that he might break it or the glass, but eventually he was able to get the window open.

Looking back down at the eager Tansy, TJ whispered, "Its open. Do you need help up?"

Her answer was a pair of gold-tone sandals flung up at him through the window. It took Tansy a bit longer to climb up and in than TJ had, but she felt that wearing a skirt was a fair excuse for the delay. Still, she scrambled up the wall without breaking her neck, which Tansy felt was an accomplishment.

Once inside, she glanced around. "Isn't this exciting?" she whispered breathlessly.

"Let's just find your wallet and get out of here before something bad happens," TJ whispered back, obviously not as excited as his companion.

"Right." Tansy nodded and clicked her flashlight back on. A quick turn around the room revealed it to be mostly empty, save a few bankers boxes filled with what appeared to be old paperwork. The girl ignored them and headed toward the door. "You said probably in a back office or something, right?

"Yeah, most likely," TJ replied as he followed her through the door, "If the door is locked though, I'm not sure I can get it open."

"You worry too much," Tansy replied shortly. But she let the subject drop.

The castle was confusing to navigate in the dark, with all sorts of twists and turns and doors leading off every which-way. Tansy was having the time of her life snooping through the place, feeling a bit like a detective searching for clues for the blood stone, while pretending to search for her missing wallet. It was obvious, unfortunately, that the lost and found wouldn't be in the same place as any old relics, but she managed some rifling through the stored museum pieces all the same.






Coop post with Anne

[Rook]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 2:20 PM
Location: Guiliana's Hotel Room (Living Room Area), Casa Del Mar

Lance sighed deep. Curtains drawn, lights out, and hunger sated, Lance should be fast asleep. But he wasn't. The last couple days events ran harshly through his head.

He was in fact in South-Fucking-America, as his mind told him minutes before. And to most, that sudden of a enormous vacation would feel just amazing. But to Lance, it was all starting to become a waking nightmare.

He'd just successfully aided a shape shifting creature in escape from the medical facility she was contained in, followed by assisted evasion of any captors that may come for her, along with the aid of a computer geek in his forties, who's intentions were extremely unclear (and he wasn't sure he wanted them to be), and a wealthy hotel owner's daughter, who's intentions were extremely unclear (and happened to be another shape shifting creature, whom he had also just attempted to help avoid capture, this time by the police). None of this would have been that concerning. Hell, not a single camera had caught him in the act. But there was one loose end. One tiny little tidbit of a problem.

Richard. He was almost certainly thrown in prison right after he left Lance. Sure, after a day in holding, nothing would come of it. But daily interrogations were likely to change that quite quickly. He left his phone number, along with his name, reputation, and possibly life in the hands of a man he'd just met. An amateur mistake. One he felt would no doubt cost him quite dearly.

I should have just left Stephanie in the car, and tracked him home... Solved my problem before it became a problem. his mind spat into his face, as he flicked the safety switch on his knife, and pressed the button, allowing the blade to present itself with a sharp 'Snap'.

From that point, there would be no issue... I would have found out about this... Other form of her's eventually, and I'd be set. She could just crash at my place, I could keep out food bowls, and if anyone showed up, suspecting me for any reason, it would just be me and... Snowflake. What an awful name for a black cat... Why did I agree to that... We could have just changed the tag... Actually, come to think of it, even if I didn't know about her other form, we could have just disguised her.” His mind droned, as he ran his fingers through his hair. Man had he botched this whole thing. So many paths. So many options. And he chose, let the one liability go, help the second liability escape, and fly to Peru with two people he knew nothing about.

He pulled a cigarette, and struck his lighter, a which was heralded by not only the usual scrape, but also the soft crack of breaking flint as the flame lit.

And now my lighter's broken. Fan-fucking-tastic. He let out a growl, as he lit his smoke, and took solace in the fact that there was another smoker in the group who would indeed have a lighter. He took a long drag and let his arm droop nearly to the floor as he closed his eyes,

He lay for a while as such, taking a periodic drag, and mulling over his situation, before hearing the opening of a door, and the shuffling of feet. With no reaction to the matter, he lie still until suddenly the presence was right beside him.

"You ready to live up to all that big talk?" The airy whisper cooed into his ear. Without so much as opening his eyes, Lance's face swooped forward and the sound of his teeth lightly snapping closed rang next to her ear.

“Careful. Threats like that may just provoke a monster.” he growled softly back, as his head fell back to the couch, allowing his half blue half green right eye, not hazed or red from the sleep he hadn't had, to lock with her deep brown left.

“Not even an hour? And here I was thinking you were going to mess with me a while longer.”

Guiliana's left brown eye met Lance's with her own steady gaze. Her eye might have been a little red, yet it was not in her nature to be slowed down too much.

Guiliana chuckled in response to Lance's sarcasm. "I had every intention of messing with you, at least for another hour or so...but somebody decided sleep took second place to room service. Besides, it's too goddamn got in there to sleep."

"At any rate, I am taking a shower and our traveling companion is occupied with one of my toys." She smirked as she finished the sentence.

Lance followed suit with his own smirk, but for an entirely different reason. Completely bypassing the urge to say something entirely inappropriate and suggestive, he shifted and sat up, taking another long drag. He rolled his neck and stretched his shoulders, still afflicted by the stiffness brought on by the plane's cramped area. Never once did the smirk leave his face, and he turned toward her with a cocky look on his face.

“Well, if you're ready, far be it to turn down such a generous offer, and honestly a little hot water will do me some good anyway.” he said standing, and grabbing his duffel bag.

“Lead the way 'La Bella'...” He said, quoting the nickname he'd picked up in the cafe four days before in passing.

Guiliana had started walking back into her room when Lance picked up his duffel bag. After his last statement, she turned with a raised eyebrow and looked over her shoulder.

"I suppose I'll take that as a compliment, though I won't tell you who gave me that nickname..." She winked at him then, waiting for him to follow her. It was her father who gave her the name, but to mention him now might ruin the mood. The hotel staff had called her La Bella as well, and she supposed that was how that punk in the Cafe had heard it.

Lance simply cocked an eyebrow in confusion, shrugged it off, and continued on his path.

“Sorry if you took it some other way. I really had meant it as a compliment.” he said, holding his tongue there, for once not giving himself the chance to stick his foot in his mouth, like he was used to doing last second. It wasn't often, one in ten times maybe, but whenever he did botch his words, it was quite profound. He shook off the sudden, unreasonable self doubt, and followed her into the room.

Seeing Lance's confused looked, Guiliana is momentarily stung herself. Her brows knit together and lips purse. "I know what you meant. It's fine..."
She placed her hand gently on Lance's side, then reached around him to pull the door shut.

~~~~~

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 3:45 pm
Location: Guiliana's room (Bedroom Area), Casa del Mar

Guiliana was quiet as she stood leaning on the open window-sill, forearms and hands dangling into the open air. The sounds of the street were present, combining with the noise of the wind and the sound of the sea-birds. Her attention was focused, however, on a point somewhere in the distance. The forest was standing between her and the secrets she imagined were hidden there.

Not acknowledging what had happened just minutes before, she turned to Lance and spoke in her usual, manner-of-fact declarative tone:

"I'd like to get going."

”Yeesh, way to totally blow me off in post...”, his mind mused, but instead of a wince, which one would think would presume would be the look of the day, he had that same old smirk of his face. “Fine by me. The harsh ones are hot, not to mention low maintenance.”

She began walking into the living area, as he called from behind her “Hey, lend me your lighter for a minute? Mine's broken.” His smirk was evidently contagious, because she turned with her own.

“"Sure. I have a spare." After fishing about in her purse, she tosses him a half-sized purple Bic lighter. Not the most manly of items, but if it got him one step closer to lung cancer who was he to complain.

With that, she strode through the living room intent on looking to see if Stephanie was occupied. She rapped on the door.

"Hey.." Cough. "You coming with?"

~~~~~

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 6:50 pm
Location: The Sacred Valley, Interior of Peru

Luckily enough for Guiliana, she had managed to find a local bus route leaving for the Ceque, a line of temples and shrines in the Sacred Valley. It still took a solid three hours in the mostly empty bus to pass between the impassably steep mountains. More than once the bus had been scraped by rock and tree branches, as well as jostled by the rough, unkempt road.

The day was winding down, and Guiliana was glad for the seeming lack of additional tourists. If this is typical, hopefully the smaller temples haven't been trampled on.

The bus had already stopped at a couple small sites, one of which was a small altar-like structure. It was preserved relatively well, and was decorated with a small stone arch and smooth, rounded stone on top.

The next stop was a small temple near the salt mines that Guiliana had proposed visiting earlier. There was a small, crumbling stone wall facing the river's steep banks. Guiliana admired what would have been an even longer-enduring structure, had it not been for a fiery clash of cultures.

Turning towards the temple, she cast a glance toward her companions. The few other travelers wandered and kicked the loose soil, not sure what they were supposed to be looking at. The silence was feeding her thoughts as she walked up a large stone slab, positioned as a ramp.

There were several more terraced levels, each with their own stone ramp. Situated a bit higher up were two adjacent stone rooms, each with several river-facing windows. The moss, grasses, and trees were all threatening to invade the structure. With its slender doorway and well-matched stone, the temple stood unperturbed by the ravages of nature around it: excepting its absent ceiling.

Glimpsing the inside of the building from the doorway, one could see the knotted remains of a quipu: an Incan tapestry which was the method of record keeping used by both priests and scholars. Quickening her steps, Guiliana approached the pattern of knotted red and gold cords. Unable to resist, she picked up a single strand.*

Wait...There is something underneath here..

Breathless, she gingerly moved another strand to reveal a sliver of a pattern of smaller stones. Quickly, she looked behind her to see if anyone aside from Lance or Stephanie was watching her. She didn't see anyone, so she brushed aside more strands with her right hand.

The small stones would have been painted, so much of the character of the mosaic had been lost...But there was a clear message. The image was of a finely dressed woman. Below her feet was the the river, above her head the moon and a river of stars. Around her neck there was a single stone, a teardrop shape. Guiliana attempted to swallow, but her mouth had gone dry. Her eyes wide..she debated whether to share her thoughts with her companions


This probably isn't going to make any sense.

"I think...I think...I might be about to find something."

She looked to Lance who had been off glancing about, seeming to be looking for something himself, as usual trying to observe his reaction without being observed. And probably failing horribly at it. He turned, and clearly not noticing her staring, locked his eyes upon where she'd just been looking. His usual smirk turned to a wicked grin. He drew his black lighter from his pocket, and with no thought on the matter, struck it twice to no effect. As he brushed past her as he brushed past her, he struck it again and the flame crackled on. With enough distance to not damage the tapestry, he used the light of his makeshift torch to make his examination. After a moment of staring, he glanced to her.

“Do you know exactly what this is?” He asked quizzically.

Before she answered, Guiliana took a hard look at his lighter. She thought it was an odd chance that it had lit...He had said that the flint was broken. Strange. "These were the Incan form of record-keeping---we speculate for taxes and census...Other times as a device to remember sacred legends. But frankly...Nobody I know has any bleeding clue how to read them."

Lance's cooled grin stayed where it was, and without skipping a beat "Anthropology Right? Who is this woman. Take a Guess."

[RisingPhoenix]

Date: August 20, 2042
Time: 10:15 PM
Location: En Route to Cachora, Peru

Nicolai was working quickly with the wound, hoping that he had caught it in time so that no infection settled in. He cleaned the wound, sanitized it and bandaged it, moving a near inhuman speed with his hands. As he worked, he listened to the man speak, nodding every so often and continually working on the wound. Finally, he finished the bandaging and looked at his handy work.

"Haven't lost my touch," he thought as he looked at the priest.

"There you go, that should help. Try to be more careful," Nicolai stated as he continued to listen to the man speak.

The man seemed a bit stressed out, as if he had been fighting an inner evil for quite a while. He looked as if he was at his wits end and Nicolai hoped that he could make the man smile. He often found himself wanting to help others in any way he could, so this priest was no different. Nicolai wasn't really a religious man, he was more spiritual than anything, and even though the priest continually spoke the words "bless" and "God", Nicolai only smiled and nodded.

"Well, try to relax some," Nicolai began as he attempted to form his words in a sophisticated manner so as not to sound too young in the presence of this particular man, "Yes, I'm headed there as well, just wanted to do some hiking and exploring."

Nicolai had learned that it was better not to divulge every bit of information you knew when meeting someone for the first time. Nicolai smirked and looked at the priest.

"Excuse me if I am out of line, but you don't look too good. Are you getting enough rest? remember that your own health comes first. Don't let anything overwhelm you to the point where you can no longer function. Whatever it is, I hope that you find peace with it."

Nicolai smiled and placed a soft soothing hand on the elder man's shoulder. He was young, but he had wisdom, something people his age didn't seem to care to much about. He pulled an item out of his bag and placed it into the hands of the priest.

"Here, take this, it's a meditation charm bracelet. Whenever I feel stress, I close my eyes and allow the things around me to disappear for a while. You should try it, even though I know it is a bit new to you considering your background and all," Nicolai stated as he showed the priest his own bracelet studded with different jewels that supposedly did different things.

[Ad Infinitum]

DATE: August 21th, 2042
TIME: 12:30am
LOCATION: Bran Castle, Romania


The passage was narrow, the walls sagging so close that a grown man may almost wedge his shoulders between. There in the darkness, Gihst skimmed the wall as he slowly descended, his fingertips humming over the minute alterations in texture. As he crept deeper into the earth, old masonry transitioned into a natural bored stone, not rough, but smoothed over centuries of use and erosive hand oils. He could smell its age, a stagnant musk concocted from the raw human scent of a great multitude that could never be washed away; it brought a carnal comfort to the unknown dark, such as how a young rabbit is consoled by an old burrow.

Those calloused fingertips strummed over a sudden pattern of smooth grooves in the stone, unnatural.

He squatted on his heels and struck his Zippo. In the dim orange glow, it was revealed that primitive Slavic reliefs lined the tunnel and continued onward into the darkness ahead; the walls, ceiling, and even the floor were carved with little abstract animals, monstrous humanoids, and people, all writhing and screaming eternally in stone. On the ceiling, in the very center of that macabre dance of chiseled forms, was a raised sphere surmounted by a halo, pigmented as red as blood. He paused, recognition churning in those cold gray eyes. In the flickering flame, the red sphere looked like a winking star...

...like the great red star that hung above the castle in the dream–

Gihst froze and snuffed out the Zippo. That was movement he heard just then.

He ticked an ear faintly towards the stairs as he heard the shuffling sound again. Yes, echoes from above. So, hunkering down, he turned away with a roll off his heels and slunk deeper down the passage.

'Only a damned berk trusts an unknown tunnel in the dark' – the late Gurney Halkett turned in his grave to remind him, and Gihst paced himself, gauging the surface beneath his feet before he moved on quickly, quietly. One could not afford to be exposed here, bottle-necked with only just enough room to turn around – that tactic only succeeded when one had the cover of a steep turn, which was a lost prospect inside the straight and narrow of this ancient passage.

All considered with a cooled head, he drifted onward, his control as solid beneath him as a firm gravel bottom in rough water.

There was an air current flowing from ahead. This was a phenomena associated with underground chambers, where the open space and dip in temperature affected the air pressure, resulting in a slight breeze. But a breeze could also warn of a sudden vertical drop. Now was when he must pay definite attention to the stone surface around him, sweeping a wall with one hand and the floor with the other.

All at once the wall ended in open air and he stopped immediately. The space ahead was cold and there was a dispersal of pressure, as though he had been freed from a coat made of lead. And once he was certain the tunnel behind was secure, Gihst struck the Zippo again, keeping the flame alive for only the steepest second to inspect his surroundings.

It was a round chamber, heavily engraved to the ceiling with the same theme of tortured beings circling a red star. There were deep alcoves bored evenly around the circumference of the wall where statues might have once stood, about as high as the average man is tall. Otherwise the chamber was plain, as it must have been raided or cleared out by an archeological expedition at some point in time.

However, the chamber felt wrong; there was a continuing air current where it should have been stagnant, he saw no other tunnels leading here. More so, he saw no reason to close off such a safe and impressive area to the public.

Gihst heard echoes again as the realization dawned on him, and without a sound, he ducked backwards against the wall...

[Koti~]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 3:50 pm
Location: Guiliana's room, Casa del Mar

Stephanie turned at the sound of the knock, having just tapped the screen again, bringing a fresh light to the orange envelop on the tablet.

“Hey” Guilana started, her sentence punctuated by a cough. “You coming with?”

Stephanie nodded happily, hopping off the bed and picking up the tablet. She walked over, stretching a bit as her mind had become fogged by exhaustion. She handed the tablet back to Guilana, mentioning that she had mail. She smiled happily, feeling oddly proud of herself for some reason.
~~~~~

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 6:50 pm
Location: The Sacred Valley, Interior of Peru


Stephanie spent most of the time on the bus with her head pressed against the still cool glass, her head fogging it around the contact point. She stared out absentmindedly through the window, watching the landscape flicker by with bored interest. Her unease and the bouncy movements of the bus did not settle well with her stomach, her head hitting the pane now and again. Steph was glad to be off the bus and able to tour the place while following the others. She had to stop and grab for her breath, amazed at what she saw.

The shifting stone colors of the wall drew her attention as each seemed to glimmer in the late sun, the wind having eroded away enough to show the glimmering impurities in the stone. She ran her hand along the walk, her hand rubbing over bumps and ridges, the stone still holding the warmth it had obtained during the day. Stephanie didn’t notice that she had become separated from Lance and Guilana, her mind lost in the whole place. The doorways inside covered most of the room in shadows, a chilled breeze escaping from them now and again; her body shivering as she passed by them. She only noticed that she had become lost when she could barely hear the bored tone of the tour guide slightly drowned out by the energetic chattering of tourists.

Worry creeping into her system, she looked around, kept calm by the surrounding beauty and natural tone of the ruins. She tried to remember the way she had gotten there, but nothing came to mind. Stephanie’s breathing began to grow shallow when a whisper caught her attention.

Not really a whisper, but a whoosh of wind that seemed to speak crept from the doorway behind her, the interior of the area shrouded in a deafening shade. Fever induced curiosity drew her into the room, where light seemed to stop at the doorway. Feeling her way around the room, Stephanie began to walk, the wind causing the same echoing drone with each light gust. She didn’t know why, but the sound was interesting, so she continued to follow, her hand running along the smooth yet rough rock.

[Mysteria]

DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 2:35 PM
LOCATION: Memphis, Egypt

Shiloh watched a scene which was to her, a scene of horror as Isaac’s face twisted and contorted as though he were in pain. "STOP!" Isaac was screaming the words "Stop tormenting me! JUST LEAVE!" Isaac was speaking then but it didn’t appear to Shiloh that he was speaking to either her or Professor Langdon. She couldn’t tell who he was speaking to, or why he would tell her to leave, but she was damned if she was leaving him now. Immediately concern overtook her as she reached out for him, talking to him gently “Isaac, what’s wrong?”

Isaac’s hand shot out in front of him "Get away from me!" Isaac’s tortured mind couldn’t see the real Shiloh. His personal demon had control of him now, blinding him to all that was real. Isaac struggled against it, but the slithering creature continued tormenting him.

Shiloh watched in horror as Isaac began digging with his fingers into his mouth. She had to stop him before he hurt himself. Shiloh quickly moved to go to his side but Professor Langdon held her by her arm as he questioned her “Shi, what’s going on here?” Shiloh looked at the professor, concern written all over her face. “I’m not…not sure. He was in the hospital, he suffered a traumatic experience. Maybe he’s…” Shiloh’s voice trailed at the words. Multiple thoughts had entered her mind. Perhaps the experience had left him with deeper damage than she or the doctors had realized. Maybe he was psychotic and she didn’t know. Then Shiloh shuddered at the next thought.

Micah had told her some very disturbing things concerning evil and what the future held if…NO. Shiloh refused to believe that Isaac could be even remotely evil. She knew him, she knew that this was not her Isaac, her gentle and kind Isaac. She had known his heart through his words, his touch. If what Micah had told her had been true about everything, herself included, then she had to find a way to help Isaac.

"Isssss-iiiik.... you owe me this... you promised me this... you swore to get me what I want.... you know what I think of liars, don't you, Isaac? You know what I do to LIARS, don't you?"

Shiloh saw Isaac’s lips moving, but no sound was coming from them. Isaacs body stiffened, pain crossing his face as his tormentor was relentless “Issss…iiik…. “Give me what I want, or I will take her.” Isaac went pale, and then his body went limp. Shiloh moved towards him, Professor Langdon pulling on her arm. She lay her hand on top of the professors, softly smiling at him “It’s okay, Thomas. He won’t hurt me.” “But Shiloh” the professor began, Shiloh silencing him with her hand as she moved closer to Isaac, speaking softly “Isaac, it’s Shiloh, let me..” Isaac screamed the words “No! Leave me alone.” as he tried to both banish the creature from his mind and prevent others from approaching him to help.

Shiloh hesitated a moment, her mind racing. Then Shiloh did something she’d not done for a very long time. A silent prayer slipped from her lips …Lord…it’s been a long time since your name has been uttered from my lips and I know I’ve no right..Shiloh’s thoughts trailed as her eyes darted to Isaac’s face then she finished.. If it is your will, please let me reach him.

Shiloh touched Isaacs face then. “Isaac.” His eyes widened with fear and disgust at the creature as he pulled back. Shiloh reached up again, touching his face softly as she spoke “Isaac, baby it’s me, Shiloh. Let me help you.” Isaac flinched at the touch. It was gentle, not slimy or slithering. He blinked, and then heard the voice. It was different now, no longer did it sound like a snake, but it was soft like Shiloh’s. Shiloh continued to touch his face, pressing hers close to his, her warm breath washing over him as she spoke. “Isaac, look at me.” His eyes changed to that of uncertainty, this scent even smelled like the real Shiloh. Then Shiloh felt Isaac crumble against her as he slid to the ground. Shiloh looked around as she cradled him, speaking directly to Professor Langdon “We need to get him to the hospital.”

Her eyes fell on the crowd that had gathered as she held Isaac, waiting for help to get Isaac to the hospital and she noted that the old man from earlier along with his lady friend were close by, whispering among themselves with their heads bent close together. Shiloh’s eyes narrowed, then her attention was quickly back on Isaac as two men came to help her get Isaac into a van which was shortly thereafter speeding it’s way to the hospital in Cairo.


DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 3:30 PM
LOCATION: Cairo, Egypt

Shiloh sat by Isaac’s bedside, smiling down at him. Upon their arrival and after hearing her and Professor Langdon’s explanation of what they had observed happening at the dig site, Isaac had immediately been given something to calm him down and was admitted to the hospital. Shiloh stroked his hand lightly as Professor Langdon went outside to speak with the doctors, then leaned down, kissing his cheek. Brushing a strand of hair from his half sleeping face she laughed teasingly “If you think that something as minor as a major psychotic event is enough to scare me away, you are sadly mistaken Mr. Scott.”

Isaac smiled at Shiloh, saying nothing. Inside his mind he was trying to focus, trying to find a way to get as far from there, and Shiloh as he possibly could. He never meant to hurt her. He had to leave before it was too late.

[Prophet]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: Unknown
Location: FBI Safe House, Romania

It was dark. The lights had long since been turned out to leave the prisoner in a state of cold emptiness. And it was cold. His captors were merciless in their use of the air conditioning to make him uncomfortable. Thomas had always wondered if being in FBI custody was what it seemed in movies and now he had to admit his curiosity plainly sated. Maybe if he asked them real nice they’d let him go… But they wouldn’t. He knew that better than anyone and as he sat shivering in the darkness the doctor in him rattled off a clinical explanation. The cold was a dangerous thing and it made blood thicken. It made everything in his body turn sluggish and in effect robbed his brain of much needed oxygen, thereby making him think of ridiculous fantasies that could never come true. Yet even knowing that it was hard to stop from thinking such things.

The door opened, a spear of light that never got far enough to stab into bright blue eyes accustomed to total blackness. Still looking at it was uncomfortable and Thomas Fynn had to turn his gaze elsewhere until he heard the click of the door moving back into place. Whoever had come to visit him hadn’t bothered to turn the light on but it didn’t matter. Thomas knew exactly where the man was, could sense his presence on the other side of the table even if he couldn’t see the man there. It was amazing how attuned the other senses could become when robbed of one. The human body was truly a remarkable thing and even though Thomas knew his mind was wandering again he let it anyway. Then metal clinked and the flick of a lighter brought forth a tiny orange flame that illuminated the face of the man who had come to see him as he lit a thick cigar.

“Special Agent Gerald Brassier…” Thomas murmured in greeting. His voice sounded surprisingly steady despite his shivering. “How nice to see you again.”

He didn’t get a chance to see the man’s expression before the lighter flicked shut but Thomas doubted the man was very amused by the attempt at friendliness. Then the lights flashed on and the young doctor couldn’t see anything as pain stabbed at his eyes and forced him to close them tight. Bastards were good at surprising a guy. He hadn’t even realized there was a second lackey in the room with the boss man.

“You ready to give us something, Thomas?” Brassier asked in a conversational tone as if he hadn’t just orchestrated pain to be visited upon his prisoner. He pulled the cigar from between his lips to exhale a plume of smoke. It had a musty smell that almost made Thomas sneeze. He had never been a fan of such things himself.

“Well now, Agent, that depends” Thomas answered once he could open his eyes again.

“On?”

Metal clinked as he moved his hands, the chain that connected the cuffs around his wrists shifting and striking the cold steel table. Thomas had grown accustomed to them after the first week or so. Or had it taken two? He really had no idea anymore. A lot changed in a few weeks of imprisonment. Even Thomas himself looked different with a few days growth of hair dusting over his jaw and cheeks. They let him shave once in a while. Under supervision of course. It’d been maybe a week since the last time, though he could never be sure as he never saw the outside or even a clock for that matter. His blue eyes were sunken a bit now, betraying his fatigue as sleep was hard to come by here. He was thinner too, leaner though they did feed him. The food just wasn’t all that edible unfortunately. He brought the palm of one of those hands down on the table.

“What did you do to my bike? She’s a fragile thing you know.”

If Brassier didn’t have such a large stick up his ass he might have been inclined to smile at such a statement. Instead he plopped a folder onto the table between them and opened it to reveal the photo of a very beautiful, very familiar woman. Tansy James… lovely blond who knew how to have a good time. Too bad their fun together had been cut short. There were still some things to explore there… most of which might be considered illegal in a few countries. He’d had a lot of time to think on things while stuck in FBI custody. They must still be lookin for her or they wouldn’t have brought it here.

As he watched Brassier lifted the photo and placed it in front of him. There was a small stack of paper beneath it all held together by a paper clip. It that which Thomas focused on though he did his best not to make it obvious. “We want to know what your associate, Tansy James, is planning.”

In spite of himself Thomas side. More of the same shit with this guy… he was like a damned broken record with his question about Tansy. Worst of all he wouldn’t ever accept that he barely knew the woman in a social sense. Now if he were to ask about her body in detail… that he could provide as he had taken the time to explore that work of art a bit. Not nearly as much as he wanted to of course but hey that was the way of things. He placed his hands on the table again, close to those papers and the wire clip that held them. The chains of the cuffs wouldn’t allow him to go much further but he had enough I think.

“I already told you, guy, I don’t know her plans.” He answered as he held the agents gaze. He had to keep the guys attention away from the papers so he could extract that paperclip without notice. “However if you’d like to know my plans if I see her again I could tell you that. It involves these cuffs, and whip cream. Hell I might even throw in some sliced strawberries just to get a little kinky… I haven’t decided yet.”

Agent Brassier just stared at the man as he leaned back in his chair. The paper clip was hidden between his middle and forefinger and he hadn’t even disturbed the papers in extracting it. Now so long as the man didn’t look down…

“I see you still aren’t willing to cooperate.” Agent Brassier announced as he placed the photo back on the papers and closed the photo. It was an effort of sheer will not to reveal the swell of triumph that threatened to burst from him! “Your meal will be along in a few hours.”

With that the two agents left the room. They didn’t turn out the lights this time though, a fortunate event Thomas had to thank god for. After the door had closed he glanced down to his hands where the paperclip lay. Now he just had to figure out how to pick the locks on cuffs…

[Kris]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 22:48
LOCATION: Unknown Hotel in Moscow, Russia.


She looked down from the edges of the porch, leaning carefully forward as to not fall. She expected to find some scenery of lights which should have been reflected by street lamps, night clubs' neon or any other kind of building illuminations, but everything around her was pretty much dark. Despite, it wasn't hard to grasp how high above the ground, the floor of her room has been placed. She sighed so terribly that she could almost feel how her very own soul was leaving her body with that exhaling.

This place... Was nothing like the place she had in mind.... She remembered herself standing near a big window, her small hands reached out to seize the sight of beauty of lights and tumult that could only be the fair share of a prize for a child, who was able to get away with another hour before bed time. Back then, when she was little, that city from a long forgotten memory was full of life and lights, shining like thousands of suns, especially at late even, activity still visible near the wharf as people turning back for their homes.

What sight was the sea then, as the water shone, reflecting the moonlight with a veil of mist. Late night swimmers. Fireworks. Even the custody of the darkness upon deserted places wasn't that intimidating as it was here.

Now, however, there was no visible ocean in sight. There was no freedom. There was no escape either.

She leaned her hands and chin at the railing, mischievous wind bending away some strips of black hair. It has been a while since her spirit was this low and she didn't like it. She was mostly the cheerful type, or rather yet, she could always bring herself to smile, but now... now she just felt how she wanted to let the bad mood take over her, and just lay idly, enjoying this brief freedom of solitude, for she knew she won't have another moment like this anytime soon.

Time passed by.

How long? she wasn't sure, but it seemed like a good enough of a time for something to stir up within her and urge her back to her feet; Some inner fire that urged her to live and never give up. She slowly got up, obeying that will without much of desire and even once she was on two feet she still staggered some, as if thinking to herself rather or not she should just go back and sit down again, lose herself within misery and self pity.

It was always easier to look away. To run. To never admit the fears or face them. It was the straightest path to oblivion but was it truly that bad? Was anyone now really going to expect much more out of her? She had done enough already didn't she?

One step.

And another.

Something just made her keep walking. She was a strong woman after all, maybe not in physical terms, but her spirit was the type that could always prevailed and with that realization a smile followed.

Yes.

She wasn't going to break so easily.

She stretched as she tried to conclude where she had been standing. So far she had this whole magnificent room to herself. A wide room, a suitable big bed, a carpet to step upon and a decent bathroom. This place had been provided to her by the dancer, who's name she had yet to ask.

She never wanted him to give her that kind of a luxury, in fact all she wanted was to get away from him as far as she could; But he wouldn't let her. Even if she thanked him for this, she knew better and understood that this fancy four walls was still some kind of a prison.

But the questions were still there. Sure he may have needed extra hand, but she still couldn't grasp what kind of a big role she will play into it. Yet, if he trusted her abilities there might still be something she could donate for this search. She will have a chance to elude him later.

Sarina turned to sit on the bed, having no real idea what to do next. Well, she did had some idea- after all that recent "strip bar" activity she had been put through, she had been dying to take a shower and could almost smell the soup which was closed tight within one of the cabins. The problem was that she had no idea when he was going to be back and if it was appropriate to use the place as she saw fit, after all, she didn't pay for this room.

While thinking in-between herself she peeked slowly into the bathroom, and bit her lips as she realized how much the invitation of the place was alluring. She got up, drawn by a strong impulse.

Water.

How badly she wanted to feel that liquid upon her skin.

As she marched inside, hypnotized to follow into the bathroom while losing any other wills, like a snake before the flautist, she slowly undressed, removing and tossing aside her clothing while still walking, leaving behind a trail of cloths, giving into the raw need of hygiene.


***


It ended far too quickly for her linking, but just thinking about it was rather absurd; For heaven sake, she should have been used by now to the fact that she could no longer enjoy a long warm baths. She closed the tap, feeling the instant cold hitting her right after departing from the watery mantle that wrapped her body up until a minute ago, in a sense she was frustrated like a new born who was forced to bitterly say goodbye to the womb and the guarding amniotic fluid.

She leaned on her hands, still refusing to fully step outside the tube, dews adoring her naked self with pearls, reflecting the light upon her body with a golden bronze aura which was the color of her skin, her black hair, without a clear shape, falling over her shoulders and nape.

She wanted to stay there a little bit longer but there was nothing to be done. Up on her feet she was now, water pouring around her, even after she rubbed herself with a towel, using it later to wrap her head like a turban. Knowing that the rest of her clothes were waiting in her bag outside, she covered herself with another small towel, which did a very poor job of covering her completely, but that was enough to at least make her decent enough to reach over the small distance between the bathroom and her bag.

Besides, there was no one in her room, so she had nothing to be ashamed of.


***


"What are you doing?!", Sarina clenched unto the towel that barely covered her body, rage increasing within her. She felt violated, exposed, as she was standing almost naked before HIM watching the content of her bag scattered all over the bed while he was holding her laptop.

He didn't look up and continued to hit the keyboards, a sly smile on his face, "I was expecting to see some files in here... With all those pictures...", he teased, "You have a large selections", he said with the same breath.

She shivered terribly while still glowering at him, feeling the water cascading down her body into the carpet, soaking it to the very core, yet the thought of damaging the rag was the least of her worries now. All she cared about was having this man out of her sight.

"Get... Get out of here!", she wanted to scream, but her terror and surprise where just too great. She was furious with herself for sounding not so intimidating as she hoped to be. Still, she was sure that the sight of her angry self was enough to cause anyone to flinch or back off, even temporary. Few more moments to recover were all that she needed anyway. She held her ground, her hands clutching on the towel, losing their color from such a strong grip, her legs unsteady as if she was about to jump at him at any given moment.

If only look could kill.

He got up and looked away, "Get dress, I shall enter your room again in fifteen minutes".

[~N~]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 23:10
LOCATION: Unknown Hotel in Moscow, Russia.

"It's very close now," the dark-haired dancer came back in, a smile upon his lips. He leaned his muscular six-foot frame against that of the doorway. He had watched her get dressed in her usual, tense manner. You just need someone to loosen you up, he thought with a smirk.

"As I told you before, Sarina, you don't need to fear me... yet." In that simple statement of reassurance, there were precisely two elements that set her nerves and teeth on edge: 1) now he knew her name; 2) he reminded her that his compact with her, his partnership of convenience was still in plenty of danger of dissolving when he felt it to be no longer necessary to his own goals.

Still, his piercing violet eyes added a third element that perhaps shook Sarina to the core more than the other two: there was a hunger in his eyes that portended that if or when her dancer acquaintance did deem her "disposable"; he might just make a meal out her. His eyes flashed with a glimmer that shone for only the barest instant, and yet it was definitely enough to remind her that he was much more than he seemed.

Worse still, he was making little effort to hide that fact. His eyes licked every inch, every curve of her form with rapacious desire. She had ever inclination to feel completely violated by his staring gaze undressing her even in the midst of her complete refusal to give him any satisfaction willingly. He cared nothing for her boundaries, wherever she set them, nor for her threats; for he felt her to be, whatever she was, perfectly harmless.

Prey. A sumptuous sacrifice. A delicious, helpless morsel, ripe for the feast.

She might've imagined him licking his black lips; he might've truly done it.

He advanced towards her with the slow lethal grace that one would expect in a lion, his dark mane flowing almost unnaturally behind him, as though it carried on a life of its own within his dark locks. His eyes never left her body.

"We're going to Metro Station Six. It's bigger than the others, more likely to allow for the kind of meeting that I anticipate occurring. My sources tell me that this is where our targets will most likely be." His smirk... knowing... remained upon his lips while he draped his fingers upon her shoulder, sliding them closer to her neck.

"You will have the chance to show me how much fight you truly have in that frail, soft little body of yours tonight..." he whispered in her ear. "Who knows, you might even live to see the morning..."

************************************************** ***********
DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 2:00 AM
LOCATION: Brasov, Bran, Romania.

Bran Castle overshadowed the small pond that was its surrounding village. Like a looming silhouette of some arch-villain that you might expect to rise up in the dead of night, it presented itself as the inescapable goal of any who traveled beneath its shadow.

Lightning streaked across the heavens, as if on some film director's cue, and Agent Sandler made his way up to the Castle. He didn't know what he expected to find, least of all Tansy James, but if he was going anywhere in Romania of all places, this would be one of the first stops on his list.

She had to be here... he thought, as he unstrapped his sidearm. No one should be at the Castle in the dark, but something about the entire place made him uneasy. Maybe it was simply the dramatic history of the place and its original keeper... Sandler didn't know... but what drew his firearm and kept it at the ready regardless as his footsteps carried him slowly and cautiously towards the foreboding castle doors...

************************************************** ***********
Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: Unknown
Location: FBI Safe House, Romania

The door opened suddenly again, a few minutes later.

Brassier had returned. "Nice try with the paperclip, genius." He stalked over and wrenched Dr. Fynn's arms up into a very uncomfortable position from behind, fiercely ripping the mangled clip from his fingers which he nearly broke in order to retrieve it.

A complete lack of humor indeed.

Gerald Brassier than stalked around to the opposite side of the table and turned the chair around with the back facing Dr. Fynn, while he straddled it as he sat down. "I don't know what you were thinking, letting her near that patient. Quite frankly, I don't really care at this point, but let me tell you something, Dr. Fynn," Brassier continued, leveling a very steely gaze at his prisoner, "I've been studying certain... types... of people. My division is not one of the 'normal' ones in the FBI."

He showed his badge with a reasoning frown. It read "X-Files Division".

"Tansy James, I suspect, is one of those people," he continued. "What I'm about to say to you, I have not had the privilege of revealing to anyone outside the Bureau, but I'm taking a chance on you, hoping that perhaps, once you realize who you're really dealing with, you might be more inclined to help us. Because we need your help, Tom. Tansy clearly liked you, and I have my suspicions as to where she is, but if she sees me coming, she's liable to up and..." his hands made a gesture as if to say POOF!.

"... 'disappear' again." He let that sink in for a moment.

"Because you see, she threw you out of that room. You led her to it, and she threw you out. She took what she wanted, and do you know what we found when we gained entrance?" Brassier raised his eyebrows and tilted his head, "Nothing but your patient, Raymond Kessler, dead, right there, in his bed. Do you think for one moment that any of us wanted that, Dr. Fynn? Do you, as a physician, condone the killing of your own patients? You're a doctor, you've taken the Hippocratic Oath; you know what your obligation is to those under your care, and you have let this woman not only escape from FBI custody, but you have let her MURDER one of your patients!"

Brassier brought the photo back up before Thomas Fynn's eyes. "Take a good hard look. I've seen pretty murderers before, Tom. Just because she's a looker, doesn't mean she has the right to kill innocent people for her own ends." Agent Brassier didn't stop.

"That alone might be enough for a normal person, but you..." he pointed at Dr. Fynn, "...you I suspect would still have a difficult time helping us with this woman. You've grown attached to her, haven't you? I can't blame you. She's very alluring. I know."

"But she's also not entirely human." Brassier then explained just what kinds of people the X-Files Division had been watching over on that very strange floor of the hospital.

"Now, Dr. Fynn... we need your help. We need you to contact Tansy James, and tell her you're alive, and that you've spent your time looking all over for her... and that it's very important that you meet with her..."

************************************************** ***********
Date: August 20, 2042
Time: 10:30 PM-12:00 AM
Location: Cachora, Peru

"Here, take this, it's a meditation charm bracelet. Whenever I feel stress, I close my eyes and allow the things around me to disappear for a while. You should try it, even though I know it is a bit new to you considering your background and all," Nicolai stated as he showed the priest his own bracelet studded with different jewels that supposedly did different things.

"Thank you, again, Nicolai," Father Francis replied accepting the bracelet with graciousness, gazing down and sliding his aged fingers over the tome, pondering for a moment whether to say more.

"It is a very ancient place of power that we are going to, no less significant in mythology and legend than the fabled city of El Dorado," he began. "I don't know why I tell you this, but I'm on a sacred journey from the Church. We are, essentially of an Order that is dedicated to preserving the treasures of ancient civilizations. Many common people think it is just to perhaps keep from the world these artifacts, but our true mission is one of salvation and preservation."

"Though doctrine limits what we expose most people to in Church services, we ourselves, the priesthood, undergo far more trials and rites of education than we let on. That the world either is ignorant of our learning, or that it misconstrues it is of little concern to us, for our mission is the same, regardless."

"This tome, that I bear with me..." Father Francis explained, "I have taken great pains to translate. And with each section of translation, I discover more about the world... about the path I am on, and about... who I am..." He paused, and visibly shuddered, his eyes warily shifting up to look directly into Nicolai's. They seemed to plead with the young man for quiet understanding, almost... really... for assistance and friendship in this common cause.

"There are those of us..." he spoke softly, but meaningfully with a gazing look into Nic's eyes, "that are... something more than we seem... always..." His lips tried to find the words, and stammered as he searched for them, his eyes breaking again, searching with his lips.

"I know that we must come here... I know that it is... our destiny... part of a cycle that... perhaps has always existed... a plan..."

Father Francis grabbed Nic's hand gently but firmly. "We are part of something... timeless and eternal... here..." Then he released him, lowering his eyes and sighing deeply. "I do not ask for your belief... I believe that you will see with your own eyes soon enough..."

Right then the bus jerked suddenly to a stop as the driver slammed on the brakes. "LAST STOP! All for Machu Picchu and Choquequirao, you must get off here!"
************************************************** **********
Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 3-6:50 pm
Location: The Sacred Valley, Interior of Peru

Part of the way to Choquequirao, Benjamin Frakes received a phone call from Jennifer Maxwell that surprised him as he saw the number come up on his phone.

"Hello," he answered.

"Ben! It's Jen. You're in Peru, right?"

"Yep. On my way to Machu Picchu as we speak."

"I need you to change direction."

"What?"

"I know. But please, Ben..." she pleaded.

"Why?!"

"There's something I need you to check out before going to Choquequirao."

Ben waited in confused silence. "What is it?"

"My research indicates that in the village of Ceque, there is a line of temples and shrines in a region known as the 'Sacred Valley'. I need you to go there and find out if you can discover anything that will help us to locate the artifact that I believe to be in Peru."

"The Teardrop."

"Yes."

"But the Teardrop is in Machu Picchu... we know that... right?"

"Ben, this isn't an exact science. Even if the Teardrop is in the ruins of Machu Picchu, or even Choquequirao, I need you to find anything you can in the Sacred Valley that may help us to understand more about it, and how to properly access it," she explained in as sweet and pleading a voice as possible. She knew Ben adored women in general, and would most certainly do anything for one he respected, such as take another two-hour bus ride from hell to the Sacred Valley.

"Fine," he said with a heavy sigh, "I'll get off at the next stop and head there immediately and give you a call when or if I find anything."

"Thank you, Ben! You're a sweetheart. I owe you one."

"You sure do, Jen. I'm going to remember that."

At the next stop, Ben Frakes gathered his things and switched buses... and directions...
************************************************** ****
"These were the Incan form of record-keeping---we speculate for taxes and census...Other times as a device to remember sacred legends. But frankly...Nobody I know has any bleeding clue how to read them."

Lance's cooled grin stayed where it was, and without skipping a beat "Anthropology Right? Who is this woman. Take a Guess."

The image was of a finely dressed woman. Below her feet was the the river, above her head the moon and a river of stars. Around her neck there was a single stone, a teardrop shape.

"She's the Coya Inca. She was the 'queen' of the Incas, who symbolized their mother goddess," came a voice from behind them. Benjamin Frakes stood in the entrance to the ruins with a smirk upon his face.

"So what do I win, besides the pleasure of the company of... Miss Guilana “La Bella” Della Romagna is it? Your... father is here too, isn't he?" The young blond-haired man stepped forward extending his hand. "Benjamin Frakes. You probably know who I work for."

[Prophet]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: Unknown
Location: FBI Safe House, Romania

The door unexpectedly burst open once more just as Thomas was twisting the paperclip into a useable shape for lock picking and all too soon the jig was up. Apparently he wasn’t as good at sleight of hand and distracting federal agents as he had fancied himself. Special Agent Brassier was none too gentle in the reacquiring of his tiny bit of property, twisting the doctors arm painfully and nearly snapping the fingers that had oft times been used for healing in the process. He grimaced in sudden pain, hissing through his teeth before he was finally allowed to plop back down onto the seat with the lingering aches from the agent’s brutal treatment. That guy really had a lot of pent up aggression…

It seemed almost laughable now that Thomas had thought himself free of the FBI’s persuasions because Brassier leapt into a storm of harsh comments and baseless accusations. He brought to bear everything he had likely thought up as a useable weapon against Tansy James and used them with merciless precision. She had locked him out… That much was certainly true and it had bothered the young Doctor endlessly. They had gone into the place together, determined to puzzle out the meaning of his dream. Then at the first sign of trouble she had abandoned him to seek the answers for herself… She had abandoned him to the FBI’s custody and everything he had suffered since being taken in by them. Oh she had sent a post card surely, a fact which the agents had used to further rub in the fact she had left him and enjoyed freedom while he remained chained to a chair.

Taking a chance indeed, what Gerald brassier was revealing to him could very well get him fired if it got leaked to the press. Had Thomas been the bitter and resentful type he might have done it from spite alone. Then again there was a bit of irony in knowing that he too was just the kind of special person the man had been investigating. Still he never would have guessed Tansy to be anything but the lovely human woman she was until she pulled that disappearing act in the room. Even now he was uncertain how she had managed such a feat, but then he was hardly an expert of innate talents.

"Because you see, she threw you out of that room. You led her to it, and she threw you out. She took what she wanted, and do you know what we found when we gained entrance?" Brassier was saying. There was a harshness in his tone, a zealous anger that threatened to overwhelm him. He was only partly right of course. Tansy had thrown Dr. Katarinas out. He had just gotten the door slammed in his face when he tried to help his colleague and then got all and fully dumped to be picked up by the enemy. He supposed it was possible the woman had been using him and if so she was a damned good player in a complex game he still knew little of. Oh and of course if it were true being used by her had felt really good. Still his final question nagged at him. What had they found when they had kicked the door in?

A lack of a certain blond nymph. Thomas thought wryly but that was not what Agent Brassier was getting at.

"Nothing but your patient, Raymond Kessler, dead, right there, in his bed. Do you think for one moment that any of us wanted that, Dr. Fynn? Do you, as a physician, condone the killing of your own patients? You're a doctor, you've taken the Hippocratic Oath; you know what your obligation is to those under your care, and you have let this woman not only escape from FBI custody, but you have let her MURDER one of your patients!"

Had Thomas Fynn not been so shocked by the man’s allegations he might have burst into a rolling peel of laughter. All that anger and bluster, all that perfectly delivered viewpoints designed to make him think, and that was the point he was driving at? Thomas had known this guy was a ballsy fellow but damn that was one hell of a stretch. Oh it was true the patient was indeed dead but he hadn’t been when the agents had stormed into the room. Perhaps the agent had forgotten but Thomas had been there right outside the door. He’d heard Raymond Kessler’s pleas. He’d also heard Gerald Brassier give the order to terminate him then and there without delay. ‘Put him down.’ He believed were the words the man had used. He stared at the FBI agent in tense silence, meeting the man’s stare without expression, careful not to reveal his thoughts.

That was one thing a doctor was good at doing. When your job was to save lives and help people you had to come to terms with the fact that you weren’t always going to succeed. He had brought bad news to enough grieving families to know the pain of such sights. When such utter devastation strikes someone it shows in their very posture and a doctor could not allow himself to sink beneath the weight. A professional had to be stoic even if doing so made one seem a bit heartless. The alternative was to be buried under the grief of your failures. Did he condone the killing of his own patients?

No… But I know you do, Brassier. Killing is nothing to you…

He didn’t say the words that came to mind, kept them hidden behind that stoic expression as the two men faced one another. They were a study of opposites even in the clothing they wore. Thomas’ was light in shade, a snug fitting blue t-shirt and a pair of khaki pants. The agent however was in the typical black suit. Thomas was a healer, a man of disarming qualities and genuine warmth. Brassier was a man of deceit and death. The only disarming he did was with brute force and he doubted even his own family got much warmth from the man. It had never fully occurred to Thomas just how opposed to one another they truly were until this very moment. Yeah he’d hated the guy for doing this to him but now he knew there was more to it. Thomas Fynn and Gerald Brassier were enemies playing from opposing sides of a board. Sooner or later one would have to fall and right now the latter held all the cards. It was time to hedge his bet, to throw a good bluff or the game would be over before it truly began.

“Look, Agent Brassier I don’t know what Tansy did in that room.” He answered finally, shrugging even as he made the statement. “I can’t promise she’ll trust me but I can reach her. If you want my help you’ve got to let me go and back off. Let me do things my own way, and if it turns out she killed Kessler… I’ll deliver her to you wrapped in pretty pink bows if it’ll clear my name.”

There it was, the best lie he’d ever told really. But then it wasn’t all that much of one. The best lies, it was said, were lined with a bit of truth. Had Tansy killed murdered Kessler there was a good chance he would have turned her in. However he knew the girl was innocent and so he wasn’t breaking his promise in the least. Brassier just had to take the bait…

Come on you cold bastard… take one more chance.

[Kris]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 23:10- 23:50
LOCATION: Unknown Hotel in Moscow, Russia.


Sarina dressed up as fast as she could, throwing her things aside while creating even a bigger havoc as she searched all over for something to dress in. She cursed as she marched and stormed from one side of the room to the other, trying to relocate pants, shirt, bra, socks.

She couldn't help but think if there truly was a need for him to shovel through her things just to get out that stupid laptop from her bag, let alone leave everything unpacked and messy!

She was nervous and angry and upset, fighting against tears of rage that just surfed up within the edges of her eyes. It was so damn hard digging and searching for cloths while given such a limited time for dressing. However, she exhaled with a relief for she finished the task just before he entered back inside.

The door closed slowly behind him and she turned around quickly, feeling her wet black hair sprinkling water around as her head made a quick rotation to meet up with him, her back already drenched as water continued to flow over her shirt.

She stood up slowly, her position unsteady and nervous. She planned to demand explanations for this rude invasion of privacy. They were in this together, were they not? He could have just asked her if he had any questions, not take upon himself to search through her things. Beside, even if he didn't trust her, why did he made her give him her word that she will be the one to help in their search? What was the point of bringing her to this place if it wasn't for knowledge and further access to information?

Well...

The answers for those questions... at least regarding the last pending one... were about to be unfold... In the most unpredictable way...

Then again...

In some sense she should have seen it coming.

She was not a fool; Perhaps too naive... or a bit too trusty... Whatever it was... She played with fire... She needed to expect those burns.

"As I told you before, Sarina, you don't need to fear me... yet."

Having a god take notice of you isn't always such a good thing; The warning was familiar but there was something new about it...

Sarina's eyes widen with a realization.

She never gave him her name...

She flinched backward, her first instinct ordering her to draw some more distance away from him. There was something new in the air now; Waves of unseen electricity that carried tension and suspense. They somehow bounded her as her body was put into some kind of a shutdown process. Before it fully happened however, she turned her back to him as she started to pick up her things back into her bag, sending quick glances backward to study his coming action, all the while her mind urging her to hasten; To get as quickly as possible out of there...

"We're going to Metro Station Six. It's bigger than the others, more likely to allow for the kind of meeting that I anticipate occurring. My sources tell me that this is where our targets will most likely be." His smirk... knowing... remained upon his lips while he draped his fingers upon her shoulder, sliding them closer to her neck.

She dropped everything she was holding unto, only capable of hearing the noise of the objects as they hit against the floor and yet she was unbothered by this for she was too surprised. How was he able to cover so much of a distance without any real effort? She shivered at the sound of his voice, which was oh so close to her ear.

"You will have the chance to show me how much fight you truly have in that frail, soft little body of yours tonight..." he whispered in her ear. "Who knows, you might even live to see the morning..."

Oh god... Could... could he really mean what she thought he meant? Slowly she turned her head half way, trying to take in his newly predator's features; How unnatural his hair stood, how glittering were his violet eyes, how famished was the hunger in his lips...

Her thoughts were bothered by his touch and she felt embarrassed. She return her gaze back ahead to the wall, afraid to make any further interaction with his eyes as his fingers dug into her neck's skin and its bare collar's surrounding, feeling as if he was trying to oil her into wanting this... Into... needing this...

Her mind yelled further warnings, but it seemed as if her own senses were numb and dull. She couldn't help but thinking how great his illusion powers could be if he was able to have such of an effect not only on her mind, like he did in their second meeting, but on her body as well, like he was doing now; There was no other explanation to this, for it was obvious she didn't want this close intimacy wit him. At least she hoped she didn't really want this. That will also explain the struggle between the emotional and rational sides within her.

She felt ecstasy, excitement, shame, confusion and embarrassment. Her body started to act differently as her emotions were thrown into a total pandemonium. She felt herself drawn in and out of reality, having no real space or time to think about her moves ahead. One moment she thought to be able to think clearly, the next moment it was all blank, terror making her sink into total cessation.

It had to be HIS undoing for sure. It couldn't have happen without his ability. The fact that she was drawn to him because of her need to learn did help to increase the effect. But it could have been prevented if she had an escape route.

Possible scenarios and ways to handle them; Her mind was able to calculate this much ahead and she realized that if it was possible for her to find some way to flee, her body was able to move long ago.

But she was nailed to the ground...

Was there truly no solution for this?! No gateway?! No escape out of this?!

Was she to just accept her fate as a meal?!

It was during all that, that she re-felt his touch as his hands were brought closer for her neck, forcing her body to react according to his desires. She didn't even need to turn around and confirm his lust. What was the point anyway? The moment he pressed himself against her back she could have guessed his will. Had she looked back, she would have given him the satisfaction of glaring into her big eyes that reflected terror and unwillingness.

She was frozen solid feeling every hair in her body standing as a gasp escaped her lips. She cursed herself because this was just a cue he was waiting for before he planned to move on. His hands slide over her shoulders and from there onto the sides of her waist, over her baggy shirt. She bet he was probably surprised to have his hand go inwards as he dug over the fabric, noticing that her hips turned out to be much more curvy than the false image the large shirt tried to show. One hand stayed there, while the other turned to move her hair over her right shoulder, bearing her nape naked as he pressed his nose there. She felt his breathing and shivered as she felt the touch of his tongue.

He chuckled, probably amused by the fact that she was VERY sensitive.

"Stop it!", she barked suddenly and raised one hand which he was able to grab and halt without real effort.

"I will want more if you try to give me a chance to suppress you with my power", he smirked.

His voice awoke something in her, alertness which freed her senses. She finally struggled against him and he in return pushed himself further against her, trying to subdue her hands against her body, holding both of her wrists now.

Sarina!

Think! Think! Think!

"WAIT!", she cried.

He stopped only for a moment, that sly smile never leaving his face, his gaze fixed still on her body, but she understood from that that he was at least willing to listen.

"You won't find... anything... In that... laptop!".

He nodded. He probably already figured this out. There was no information aside of pictures there.

This was her chance; She carried on, "I know more...", she swallowed, "Than what you give me credit for...". She let her words sink and confirmed it by the fact he was looking directly at her now, "Give me a chance to show you... What I'm capable of...".

She forced herself to keep an eye contact with him, even if the last thing she wanted to do was stare at those hungry eyes, but she had no choice. It was her only way to let him know that she was far more useful than just a sexual object.

She gasped with pain as she felt how he tighten his hold on her hands, clearly not happy with her tone or from the fact she thought she had any saying in this. He was the one to set up the rules, not her.

"Why not?!", she tried her best not to cry, "I can't escape anyway...".

He let her suffer some more before he let go, watching as she rubbed her hands slowly while they were free. He turned to sit on the bed, bored and not very pleased now, or so it seemed for his smile faded away from his face.

She breathed few times, allowing herself to relax. That new gained distance was something she was willing to pay for, kill even, "Thank you", she said slowly.

"I'm waiting!", he reminded her with a stern voice.

She nodded and bent over to pick up her laptop which was lying at the floor not far from her, "They spoke about trains. I didn't give that much of a thought... until NOW...", she started to explain, emphasizing that this 'current event' helped to speed up some thinking process, "That day when I got the letter to come and meet you.... I was able to hack into some file and download it from the Kremlin Hotel server. The file was named 'Metro'... If we have an option of choosing from three possible routes... I say we at least try to see that file too...".

"You're just trying to buy yourself time", he teased.

"Maybe", she smiled back and surprised him with that mischievous gesture.

'Two can play this game, bastard', she told herself.

She moved closer to him, her eyes narrowing, her lips departing. Something about her seemed less tensed...

Was there really a fight in her after all?! Was this a trick she was playing on him? It was hard to tell, but he seemed to be enjoying himself for the smile returned to his face. "What do you plan, little girl?".

She approached the bed and set on its edge, letting him know that despite the fact she moved closer to him, her interests were all diverted to handle the locked file as she hit the keyboard of the small computer.

Yet...

There was still something new about her attitude.

He could almost smell it.

Maybe she was the type to be full of surprises. Maybe she just waited for a chance to find something else that could free her... or... she just wanted to use him for further information, knowing perfectly well that without him she won't have much of a main trail to follow.

She continued to smile, still playing into this theatrical game, but he did noticed how nervous and edgy were her hands' movements...

"Interesting", he licked his lips.

Maybe he will choose to play a bit more before feeding.

[Koti~]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 6:55 pm
Location: The Sacred Valley, Interior of Peru

Her hands ran against the cooling rock, her eyes adjusting to the shifted sun. She had wandered around the stone basement, the silence and cool air relaxing his heads. Her eyes drifted around the ruins, her voice as silent as the stones around her. It had taken Stephanie little time to realize that she had gotten separated, and had started to head back, strangely calm through the entire ordeal.

“I wonder where they a…” Her voice dropped in shock as she saw someone standing in front of the doorway. A buzz filled her ears and she quickly dropped into a room nearby, her heart coming to a near standstill. Stephanie was sure she was seeing wrong, probably due to the fever, but a second glance told her she was wrong in that thinking.

*He...he shouldn’t be alive.. She killed him, brutally and without mercy. But… there he was, clear as day!* her mind repeated in a sick mantra, her back pressed into the rough stone. One wrong move, and her back would have been shredded, if she wasn’t pinned in place with fear.

A scream nearly ripped her head apart, causing Stephanie to grab her head in pain. She knew what that was, better yet who. She had to confirm it was wrong, before Evalon full woke up. Taking a deep breath, she stepped back around the corner. She resisted the dueling urges in her body, one to lunge forward and brutalize the man, another to run in terror.

*All I need to know is his name, and then I can try to stop her from getting out* Stephanie said, trying her hardest not to cry, her face showing shock and pain.

“Be…Benjamin?” Stephanie asked, her voice sounding distant and yet so loud to her, watching the man for reaction.

Benjamin Frakes turned to the timid, pale little girl who had just had her back against the cavern wall like she had seen a ghost.

"Yes?" His head tilted, and his eyes betrayed no recognition of Stephanie. He squinted a bit, "Do I know you? I don't recall seeing you before, yet you look like you know me."

“Oh… I guess I mistook you for an old friend” Stephanie said, causing the roar in her head to grow even worse. She began to rub her head, trying to get rid of the pain that had flared up. She leaned against the rock wall and took in a few deep breaths, focusing on nothing but the clouds that drifted lazily by.

*How dare you call that betrayer a friend! He caused you nothing but pain, but still you call him a friend?!* Evalon shouted at her, her anger washing over her body. Stephanie fought back weakly, covering her face with her hands. Luckily enough the pain racking in her head helped push back Evalon into her own corner. She looked back over at Ben and giggled to try to make sense of her quite.

“Sorry, just a bit sleepy. My name is Stephanie” Stephanie said, walking over to them. She had yet to notice Guilana and Lance, focused mainly on Ben. She raised up her hand to introduce herself, as she had seen people do, but stopped halfway, remembering the scene from earlier with Guilana. Placing her hands on the strangers shoulders, she did the kissing motion that Guilana had done, trying her best not to make contact with his skin.

[~N~]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: Unknown
Location: FBI Safe House, Romania

“Look, Agent Brassier I don’t know what Tansy did in that room.” He answered finally, shrugging even as he made the statement. “I can’t promise she’ll trust me but I can reach her. If you want my help you’ve got to let me go and back off. Let me do things my own way, and if it turns out she killed Kessler… I’ll deliver her to you wrapped in pretty pink bows if it’ll clear my name.”

Agent Brassier narrowed his eyes. He perceived the game being played, and he knew that Dr. Fynn was less than trustworthy. Clasping his hands calmly and leaned forward.

"Dr. Fynn..." he began, smiling a bit and lowering his eyes for a moment, nodding as if he was considering his proposal, but smiling because there was something about it that he felt was a little... off, and it amused him in its own way.

"Let us compromise," Agent Brassier opened his hands and met the Doctor's eyes with a reasonable tone. "I let you go... and you wear a wire so we can track you and hear you." Should you draw Miss James out of hiding and to your location in a way that aids us in apprehending her, you will be... simply a helpful 'informant', as far as the FBI concerned." He clasped his hands again with a reasoning frown.

"Or..." he turned away for a moment, "You could always go back to the States to be processed before the medical board of examiners, lose your license to practice medicine, and generally lose any opportunity to make all that money you spent on medical school even remotely useful in the medical field."

Your move, Dr. Fynn.


************************************************** ***********
Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 6:55 pm
Location: The Sacred Valley, Interior of Peru

“Sorry, just a bit sleepy. My name is Stephanie” Stephanie said, walking over to them. She had yet to notice Guilana and Lance, focused mainly on Ben. She raised up her hand to introduce herself, as she had seen people do, but stopped halfway, remembering the scene from earlier with Guilana. Placing her hands on the strangers shoulders, she did the kissing motion that Guilana had done, trying her best not to make contact with his skin.

Ben was just the least bit confused by the young girl's behavior towards him, and he was stunned as she moved closer to him to embrace him.

And yet, there was something oddly warm and inviting in the gesture, and he, without thinking, gathered her up in his arms and embraced her fully. "Stephanie," he replied next to her ear, "I am so sorry for not remembering you, but I promise, I shall not forget you in the future. I take it you're traveling with Miss Romagna? What are you doing out here?"

His eyes glanced up over Stephanie's shoulder at Guiliana, giving her a quick wink and sly smile, while rubbing Stephanie's back.

************************************************** ***********
DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 23:50
LOCATION: Unknown Hotel in Moscow, Russia.

She nodded and bent over to pick up her laptop which was lying at the floor not far from her, "They spoke about trains. I didn't give that much of a thought... until NOW...", she started to explain, emphasizing that this 'current event' helped to speed up some thinking process, "That day when I got the letter to come and meet you.... I was able to hack into some file and download it from the Kremlin Hotel server. The file was named 'Metro'... If we have an option of choosing from three possible routes... I say we at least try to see that file too...".


The dancer grew impatient, but he found himself effectively blocked by Sarina's ploy. His eyes narrowed again. In a way, she was possibly obstructing his advances with her own little "illusion". But then again...

"You hacked into the Kremlin Hotel server?!" he asked in a voice filled with doubt. "You do realize that's preposterous coming from a foreign young woman like yourself who knows next to nothing about our computer systems, or anything about where to locate our files."

"How could you possibly acquire the kind of familiarity required to even locate such a file? My source comes from the inside, girl, and he is about as reliable and trustworthy as any paid mercenary in Mother Russia." He paused and turned away, tilting his head and gesturing, "Now granted, that's not much, but it's better than anything else we've got..."

Then he turned back to her, "... besides your ridiculous file of course. I'm giving you five minutes. If you have it, you should be able to bring it up." Then he rose up and approached her, ready to tear her apart should it turn out that she was buying time.

"If I didn't need you tonight, you would already be dead... or worse..." He laid a gentle, but threatening hand upon her shoulder.

Leaning down, he repeated his previous bit of information: "My source says Metro Six. Where's your source?"

[RisingPhoenix]

Date: August 20, 2042
Time: 10:30 PM-12:00 AM
Location: Cachora, Peru

Nicolai listened attentively to all that the man had to say. This man was truly interesting, and had much wisdom to offer. Though Nicolai wasn't religious, this priest made him want to know more about the celestial beings, and the powers that be. He wasn't going to interrupt the man as he talked about the item that both of them sought. While Father Francis spoke, Nicolai fiddled with his charm bracelet. The man was deep. Nicolai watched the various mannerisms Father Francis portrayed as he spoke. The tome that Father Francis held was of great importance, at least that it was Nicolai gained from Father Francis's speech about it. He couldn't fathom ever having the patience to translate such text from one language to another, and he could only sympathize with Father Francis for having done so.

When Father Francis looked into Nicolai's eyes and began to speak about those that were more than they seemed, and about their destiny. It sent a chill down Nicolai's spine because he began to remember all that he had been experiencing these past days. The dreams of the figure that always reached for his hand, but vanished before making contact. The last time, in the library, Nicolai could've sworn everything he had experienced up to that point was a dream, but that day in the library caused everything to come in perspective. There was something going on, not to mention the sudden abilities he had gained. When he walked into rooms, the lights seemed to glow brighter, and when he left it seemed that they dimmed. Not to mention he thought he had levitated while falling off of the bed at home. Various things were causing him to seek out this stone, just to find out if this stone was the key to finding out what was happening to him.

Suddenly, Nicolai was brought back to the present as Father Francis's hand grasped his softly, causing him to tense up slightly. Nonetheless, he listened to Father Francis just as he had been listening to him this entire time.

"We are part of something... timeless and eternal... here..."

Father Francis released Nicolai's hand, and while lowering his eyes, he sighed rather deeply and began to speak again.

"I do not ask for your belief... I believe that you will see with your own eyes soon enough..."

Nicolai took in everything that the priest had said and registered it as truth. How else was he going to explain what had been happening. He softly grasped the priest's hands and cupped them in his own.

"Father Francis, I believe every word you spoke. If you don't mind I would like to accompany you on this mission of yours. At least I could make myself useful as I've got great skills in this type of thing," Nicolai stated as he smiled and gave Father Francis a soft hug before standing and retrieving his bags after the bus had stopped completely.

This was his stop so he knew it was Father Francis's as well. Grabbing his gear, he stood at the entrance of the bus awaiting Father Francis to get off.

[Anne Bonny]

Black Dog + Cookies Ahoy + Anne Bonny = this!

DATE: August 21th, 2042
TIME: 12:40 AM
LOCATION: Bran Castle, Romania

For quite some time, Tansy was having an absolute blast sneaking around the dusty old place. It was nearly as fun as getting to go backstage at a concert, to see secret places and the behind the scenes happenings that no one ever even knew existed. It was thrillingly mischievous. Her favorite kind of fun.

Unfortunately, not much was turning up in the way of the blood stone, and frankly, Tansy felt a little overwhelmed with deciding where to look. It seemed that every old room had been converted to storage, filled with dusty boxes and old crates of various shapes and sizes. And the challenge wasn't just to go through everything she could, but also to do it in a way that wouldn't make her companion figure out that she wasn't in fact searching for her wallet, throw up his hands and leave before they both got caught.

Dusting off her hands as she put yet another box back onto a shelf, Tansy glanced around. They were currently in the back room of the gift shop, with empty display racks and silly little baubles that caught the light from her flashlight as she turned. The girl paused for just a moment to examine the postcards. One bore the same woodcut artwork of Vlad the Impaler that had lead her to Romania in the first place.

She took a quick look over her shoulder to make sure TJ wasn't watching before folding the postcard and slipping it into her pocket.

"Nothing here," she finally proclaimed. "On to the next?"

"What's next, Tansy?" TJ asked, a touch of annoyance in his voice, "We've gone over the whole castle. Are you sure you didn't lose your wallet somewhere else?"

"You were such a gentleman, I didn't pay for anything else. So, no," Tansy replied, fighting to keep the cheerful tone in her voice. She trotted out the little room's door, humming to herself.

But she was using up his patience, that much was clear. So maybe one last place before she faked finding the wallet...

Tansy paused in the hallway. There was a dark stairway to her left. There was something about it that was especially intriguing. The door that lay open looked as if no one had touched it for years. Her breath caught in her throat. Go big or go home, the girl told herself as she crept into the narrow passageway.

TJ stayed silent as he searched through the drawers of a nearby counter.

"Okay, well I think we'll have to come back in the morning and see if someone from the staff found it," TJ said.

He waited for a reply, then looked around the room. Tansy was nowhere to be found. The young woman had slipped away without a single word, rather uncharacteristic of the woman he had met earlier that day.

TJ let out a sigh, this girl was turning out to be a lot of trouble. Luckily, he had a good idea where Tansy had gone. He found a door, with a padlock that had been opened somehow.

"Tansy?" TJ asked the darkness of the descending passageway as he slowly crept down the stairs, pointing his light at the steps to minimize the chance of slipping down the ancient stairway.

"This guy is worse than my dad," Tansy grumbled to herself at the sound of TJ's voice behind her. How was she supposed to find anything with his refusal to let her out of his sight? Although, she had to admit, it was kind of cute to having someone doting over her so.

So instead of complaining, she turned to call over her shoulder to indicate where she was. But as she did, Tansy's flashlight trailed over the wall on her right side to reveal something strange. She froze, moving the light over the surface of the wall. All sorts of horrible monsters had been carved into the stone, the very things nightmares were made of.

Tansy's throat tightened and her smile evaporated into the dusty air. "I'm here, TJ," was the best she could manage, hoping her shaky voice could carry through the hallway to him.

Following the faint reply, TJ made his way down the stairs. When he reached Tansy, she was staring at the carvings in the wall with chilled curiosity.

Though he wasn't one to care for history much, this was definitely a cool, and rather creepy, find.

"So, you find your wallet?" TJ asked, still running his light across the walls.

If her eyes hadn't been glued to the gruesome pictures that surrounded them, Tansy would have shot TJ the most withering of glares. She cleared her throat in an effort to regain her composure.

"No, I was a bit distracted," she replied with a wink, whether or not he could see it in the darkness hardly mattered. "Maybe this way!"

With a playful giggle, she turned on her heels and continued down the corridor. Her heart was pounding in her chest. These pictures meant something, she was sure of it.

She followed the tunnel to its end, where she found a round room. It was amazing, decorated with hundreds of the same nightmarish pictures with a large red star painted onto the ceiling. The sight was creepy, yet majestic enough to take her breath away yet again.

But the room was empty.

Wonder at the ancient scenery could only go so far before disappointment set in. "There's nothing here!" Tansy cried in frustration, stomping her foot on the ground in a small tantrum. "I can't believe it!"

"Tansy, what's going on?" TJ asked, unable to hide the annoyance in his voice, "This is redic-"

TJ stopped as his senses alerted him of something else in the room. It was foreign to everything else, and had a distinct smell of cigarette smoke. The scent was subtle, but there. TJ began scanning the room with his flashlight, shining the light into the dark depths of the shadows of the already dim chamber.

“...had Ah been hostile,” a voice crept out in the dark, shattering the moment. “Ye'd hae been none th'wiser...”

The unseen stranger scoffed as his dark shape faded out from the blackness, his unnaturally large, round eyes flashing like glass. He was abnormally silent, a drifting ghost that had peeled himself from the chamber wall. But once caught in the flashlight, he was flesh and blood, a tall man that loomed just above the brim of light. A heavy pair of goggles gleamed down on them from the darkness above his exposed features, severe and cold.

Tansy nearly jumped out of her skin at the gravely sound of another voice. With a startled cry, she leaped behind TJ and clutched his arm. It wasn't enough that the spooky, black, underground room was decorated with monsters, but now one seemed to be rising up before them.

"I suppose not," TJ said, sizing up the figure in front of him.

The stranger looked like a scrapper that knew how to win a fight. Probably not in the most fair manner, but when did that ever really matter.

"That still doesn't explain what you're doing down here," TJ added with a rather calm tone as he put the light on the man's face.

“...nae more than it daes ye,” he rumbled, both listless and acrid in tone. “Couldnae be fer a wallet…” The Scotsman smoothed out a false smirk more analogous to a sneer. He had overheard them. “…nae in a passage tha' had been locked during th'tour...”

The stranger’s vulturous eyes coolly gleaned the young woman.

Any rational person would have waited until the next day to search the lost-and-found rather than risk a break-in, the reasoning did not add up. Yet this man seemed to believe that the wallet truly had been lost, though puzzled and disagreeing with their actions. That meant the break-in had been her idea, and more so, that the lost wallet could be her alibi and that she had fooled this man into believing it.

The woman was cunning behind the doll-like innocence she knew would conceal her. The man was gullible and easy to bend when confronted with a pretty face.

The stranger faintly curled his lip.

"Yeah..." TJ muttered, obvious annoyance coated his voice at the realization that Tansy had duped him into this fake scavenger hunt. Then he turned his head to Tansy, but the rest of himself squared at the stranger, "Do you want to explain what it is that we're doing? Because apparently you're the only one that knows," TJ asked in a slight hushed tone of anger.

The girl's mouth opened and quickly closed again, making her look somewhat like a fish for the briefest moment. Her eyes moved from TJ to the stranger and back again, searching either one of their faces for a way out. But her ally looked like he was fed up with their little excursion and the dark stranger's face was impossible to read behind those goggles. Who wears goggles anyway?

Tansy took a step back, away from the two men, and raised her chin in a subtle sign of defiance. "Alright," she finally said, shortly. "So I didn't lose my wallet. And I didn't come to Romania for an article. I mean, I was writing one, that part was true, but that's not why I came here."

She was nervous of revealing her real motives. What would TJ think of her for chasing some artifact that she knew nothing about? On the other hand, he didn't appear to think much of her at the moment anyway.

"I heard of this thing, a blood stone. There was this guy back in the States who had a dream about it. And then this crazy guy in the hospital kept screaming about it and then the FBI came in and killed him and..." She paused, searching for the right words in the darkness. "And as soon as I heard about it, something inside me just had to find it. So, here I am."

She let her hands fall to her sides, unable to explain any further. "But I don't suppose that makes much sense at all, does it?"

The stranger let out a gentle breath as he slipped away, “...this Bloodstone look akin tae a red star?” He ventured, circling the chamber with a slow, almost dejected prowl.

His predatory mind snuffled ahead like a fox – smelling the connection, slavering in prospect of the truth, yet wary of the snare that may lie hidden. This woman was the bait to that snare, yet her knowledge goaded him to slink forward for a cautious sniff.

Tansy's eyes widened. In all of her brief expectations of how this scenario was going to play out after her confession, the idea that this guy might know something about the stone never crossed her mind. What was more, he seemed to know even more than she; the stranger knew what it looked like.

But she couldn't very well admit that she didn't.

"You've seen it?" Tansy stammered instead. "Is it here?"

“...Ah've nae slept sound fer three years, beaut',” The stranger husked as he leaned his palms against the mouth of an alcove, staring into the welled darkness inside. “E'ery night Ah dream o’ th’red star, e'ery night Ah wake tae chase it...” He trailed off to leave the chamber suddenly and deathly quiet. Perhaps the stranger was thinking carefully.

“...ye'aer poison, lass.” He husked, his goggles creeping over a shoulder to stare her down. “Ye'hae seen th'work o' th'Federal Bureau, say they hae kilt a man fer talking ‘bout this Bloodstone, n' naew, ye ask me tae tell y’whit Ah ken?” His eyebrows knitted above the brim of his goggles. “...would ye’hae me knock on th’Bureau’s door n' shove m'head up their guns?” He growled low, chiding.

"Now wait just a minute," Tansy snapped back. Under the cover of darkness, her cheeks grew red. "I don't know what you're implying..." Frankly, she had to strain just to understand the man. "But I don't want to have anything to do with the FBI, and I never did."

Her hands moved to her hips. Any traces of the sweet little girl act were gone from her expression and stance, giving TJ what was probably the first look he ever had of the true Tansy James, the stubbern, determined girl behind the charming exterior. "No, I don't want you to stick your face in their guns or whatever you said," she continued. "But I'm determined to find this thing and apparently, you are too. So if you want to share any information, fine. If not, I'll be on my way."

“...haud it.” The stranger barked sharply, continuing on with a harsh growl. “...chances aer, Tansy, th'Bureau wants plenty tae dae with ye-“ He then glanced coldly over the young man. “-Along with any loose ends lying ‘round…”

He faintly shook his head. “…Ah cannae afford tae fuck ‘round ‘ere any longer. Nor kin youse, ye’hae been tae obvious, tae damned loud. Youse want m’help, n’ Ah dinnae need youse feeding m’tae th’Feds. So, let’s hae an agreement – we help each other; Ah’ll loosen m’tongue n’ keep ye from harm, youse tell m’whit ye know n’ bite thy tongues concerning me.”

She sized him up with a frown. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the stranger was more street smart than she, or perhaps even TJ was. And it had been dreams that had lead her to Romania in the first place, so to find another person who possessed the same strange ability might just be what she needed to complete this odd quest. But although he seemed to be pretty upfront about the stone so far, the creepiness factor of the stranger made her uneasy.

Or perhaps it was how quickly he went on guard against any of her usual methods of controlling people. Either way, Tansy didn't trust him.

But, he was her only lead. "Alright, I'm in," she finally said.

The stranger stopped her there with his upraised hand. “...ye listen tae whit Ah say carefully,” He warned keenly. “Ye foul up, Ah will stick aet m’throat only so far fer ye. Ye screw me o’er,” The Scotsman pressed his hard stare on Tansy now. “Ah’ll leave ye tae rot.”

“…naew,” He began, squatting with his back to the alcove he’d been perusing. “Why would a struggling museum lock away this pomp?” The stranger lazily flicked his fingers to the chamber around them. “…because s’gae a hidden exit; ‘ere, in this hole behind me, there’s loose brick sealing something off.”

The stranger tugged out a kerchief and tossed it to Tansy. “…go lock tha’ padlock, wipe it whin ye’aer done, dae it quietly. Ye, lad, we’re gonnae open th’exit…”

TJ rolled his eyes. Somehow he felt obligated to not leave Tansy to this stranger by herself, even if he wasn't her biggest fan at the moment. He would make sure she got out safe and that would be the end of it.

The girl caught the handkerchief and held it delicately between her thumb and forefinger. She frowned at the scrap of material, trying not to think of how dirty it certainly must be. But with a toss of her blond hair, Tansy did as she was told, and turned to head back through the narrow passageway.

[Prophet]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: Unknown
Location: FBI Safe House, Romania

Cheeky Bastard…

Still Thomas had to concede the man was a shrewd player. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing, trying to fence with words against a guy who likely had been doing it for years. It was plain to see who had the advantage and though Agent Brassier had admitted he was willing to take a chance with him there were apparently limits to the magnitude of that chance. A tracker would make it hard to slip their hold on him but a wire… he’d never even get a chance to speak to Tansy before they were breaking in the door to take the both of them. He wasn’t stupid. Though the man promised a return to his old life that wasn’t how the government worked. These guys had already arrested and held him even though that had no real charges that could stick and they knew it. They also knew that didn’t matter because he was in their custody and they held all the power over him. If only he had taken his cooperation for granted and let him go…

Nothing’s ever easy.

Thomas made a show of considering the man’s proposal and what it would meant to either agree or disagree to the terms. Rather than that though his mind searched frantically for some manner of response, a compromise that the bastard could accept. No matter what he could not leave here with a wire because the moment he found Tansy it would be over for the both of them. Then, like a light bulb clicking on in his skull, it came to him. Hell the agent had said it himself not more than a few minutes ago!

“Won’t work.” He replied with a shake of his head. “If Tansy is even half as shrewd and cunning as you claim she’ll have known I was arrested. She’ll have me out of my clothes faster than you can say ‘Arrest her’ and she’ll find the wire.”

He leaned forward, the chain of his cuffs clinking against the table as he shifted. His gaze met the agents across the table without fear or hesitation. They stared at one another a moment, calm and calculating, taking the measure of one another all over again. It was time now for his counter offer and he had to sell it good or this whole thing was fucked. “I’ll wear a transmitter. Something small and discreet that will give you my location wherever that might be. Before I leave you can give me a cell phone and when I have Tansy with me I’ll send you a message.”

He tapped his finger on the table as he continued. They were already cold enough that the chill of the metal was not even noticeable. “That’s the only way you’ll succeed in getting her, Brassier. She’s a smart girl and, as she has already proven, difficult to catch. If you want her as bad as you claim then trust me, this is the way.”

Now to sweeten the pot…

“I’ll also need some money unless you want to give me my wallet and credit cards back. A vehicle would be nice too if you want me to get around efficiently. A bike would be preferable as that’s more my style.”

Check to you, Brassier. Time to fold or raise the stakes.

[Mysteria]

DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 5:30 PM
LOCATION: Memphis, Egypt

Shiloh had reluctantly left the hospital after having been dismissed by the doctors so that they could begin running tests that she’d never heard of and understood even less on Isaac. On the way back to Memphis, Shiloh had become rather silent despite the fact that Thomas Langdon was trying his best to keep her spirits up. They’d really not discussed Isaac’s condition much since there was really nothing for them to discuss. The incident had left them both baffled and until the doctors could tell them more, there was little they could do anyhow. Shiloh had however, upon Langdon’s inquiries went on to explain about his recent injuries back in Alesia and how this may somehow be tied into it. Shiloh shook her head as she explained “I don’t know Thomas, perhaps there was more psychological damage than there was physical. His burns seemed to heal rather quickly but it’s like he’s been distant ever since, and after today…” It was then that Shiloh’s voice had trailed off and the professor had simply nodded in understanding.

Upon their arrival back at the excavation site, Shiloh had feigned a headache, telling the professor that she was a bit tired and wanted to lay down for a while but not before she promised to have dinner with him so that they could catch up and talk later. And talk, she definitely planned on for Shiloh had questions she needed answers to, but for now she needed time to think. Re-entering her temporary housing, Shiloh kicked off her shoes and flopped down on the bed, breathing in deeply as she tried to calm her mind and prevent it from racing further ahead than it already was. Laying on her back she stared up at the ceiling as her thoughts drifted to Isaac. What exactly was going on with him, she still didn’t understand but she knew that for the moment, he was better off where he was, in the hospital until the doctors could figure out what was wrong with him. She scolded herself for asking him to travel so soon.

Leaving out a sigh her thoughts turned to that day in the park back home in Alesia. Her shock after having met Micah and everything that he had told her still weighed heavily on her mind. A part of her was beginning to believe him, otherwise how would she have known that what she thought she saw at the edge of the woods that day was real. The golden aura had drawn her in and upon meeting him, his voice had immediately calmed her despite her underlying fear that perhaps she was losing her mind. Since then she’d noticed however how her touch upon Isaac’s burned skin had almost seemingly healed him.

Shiloh held her hand out in front of her face. Powers? Her? Surely Micah had been a crazed man speaking of things beyond her comprehension. Shiloh lifted one finger towards the ceiling. “Will it, and it will be so” Micah had told her. Closing her eyes, she concentrated, trying to focus something, but not knowing what, into the tip of her fingers. Feeling the odd sensation that began in her fingertip, she opened her eyes to see the tip of her finger glowing. Shiloh gasped out loud. Was it possible that Micah had been telling the truth after all. Focusing all of her energy to her fingertip and allowing her mind to think the word light a stream of solid light emerged from her finger, shooting up onto the ceiling.

Shiloh jumped off of the bed and began pacing across the floor. This couldn’t be. After several moments of pacing she slouched into a chair, hugging her knees to her chest. She’d almost forgotten one of the reasons she’d come to Memphis to begin with. The relics that her friend Kaitlin had mentioned, the same relics that Micah had told her about…the stones…could that be true too? Evil or good, but more importantly all powerful to the holder of the relic.


Then Shiloh froze in mid-step as a golden glow appeared in front of her eyes and slowly but surely a vision of Micah appeared before her, his angelic face immediately calming her racing heart. His smile was mesmerizing, his voice soothing her as he spoke “You’re beginning to understand Shiloh, now all you need to do is believe.”

Before Shiloh could say anything, the image in front of her faded. “Wait, don’t go, I have questions” Shiloh exclaimed out loud. A second later, Micah was gone. Surprisingly enough, Shiloh remained calm instead of panicking at the sight, albeit she would have preferred to have time to ask him questions that were now burning in her mind. For now however, she would have to rely on Professor Langdon for her answers. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Shiloh opened it to see the same driver that had picked her and Isaac up at the airport standing, with a quizzical look on his face as he looked around the living room of the apartment “Ma’am, were you talking to someone?” Shiloh looked at the man curiously “No I wasn’t. Can I help you Amar?” The driver merely nodded “Professor Langdon sent me Ma’am, to pick you up for your dinner engagement.”


Dinner! Damn it, time had slipped away from her. It was almost time for dinner. Shiloh tossed over her shoulder as she said “I’m sorry, I fell asleep. I’m afraid the days events had left me feeling in need of rest. Give me just a few moments to freshen up.” Amar smiled at her then “It’s okay Ma’am, I understand” he said, taking a seat on the couch. Quickly she hurried, checking her make up and changing into some fresh clothing before brushing her long tresses out and stepping back into the room. “Okay, I’m ready now. Thank you for waiting” Shiloh followed Amar to the car and they were on their way to pick up the professor.

Indeed, she would have something to ask Professor Langdon at dinner.


DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 7:00 PM
LOCATION: Memphis, Egypt - Grande Café


After being seated at a table near the back of the restaurant and having placed an order for herself of filet mignon with parsley potatoes, and the Professor having placed his order, Shiloh and the professor began to reminisce about her father, and Shiloh proceeded to tell him about being raised by her aunt and uncle after her parents death. By the time dinner arrived, Shiloh had filled him in up until the point for her reasons for coming to Egypt to begin with. She was interrupted by the waitress just then who brought their orders, setting them down and smiling cheerfully “If there’s anything else I can get you, please just let me know. Enjoy your meals.”

After the waitress had left Shiloh lowered her voice slightly as she didn’t want anyone to overhear her conversation with the professor. “Since their deaths I had moved to Alesia for a job there, singing at a local club where I’ve actually gathered quite the following” she said proudly. Professor Langdon smiled at her “Your parents would be proud of you Shiloh.” Shiloh returned his smile and continued “I also work part time at a local gym where I help my good friend Kaitlin out. I’m really into maintaining good health anyhow, and working there part time helps me to stay healthy.” Shiloh took a bite of her filet mignon, allowing the succulent piece of meat to melt in her mouth the way a well prepared filet should be able to. “Oh, this is so good Professor!” she exclaimed, then taking a drink of her wine and setting it down she finally broached the subject of the stones.

“My friend Kaitlin knows that I am into collecting antiquities and of course, that I have a huge interest in archaeology since Dad was involved with it and I have always found it fascinating.” Shiloh took another drink of her wine and then added “She’s the one that actually got me interested in coming to Egypt. She was telling me about some group of stones that are supposed to hold some type of magical powers.” Shiloh laughed then, trying to act as though the idea was absurd, and intentionally leaving out any mention of the angel, Micah. Keeping her voice low, she continued then “I am certain that it sounds crazy but she told me that there is a tale of one stone in particular, that resembles a dragon eye. I’m fascinated by such a thing; it’s said to glow of an amber color.” Shiloh allowed herself a pause, not wanting to appear overly eager to gain knowledge about the stones. Taking a bite of her potatoes then she chewed slowly, giving the professor time to take a drink of his own wine before continuing. “Have you heard of the stones Professor? If you have, could you tell me more about them and where they might be found?” Shiloh smiled slightly then “I know I could never own such a thing for my meager collection, but I would certainly love to see something like that, just once.”

[Kris]

DATE: August 21st-22st, 2042
TIME: 23:55-00:20
LOCATION: Unknown Hotel in Moscow, Russia.

Even when it seemed like he was drawing into the sensation in the air, giving in to the serenity that Sarina tried so hard to build around her, the tension hadn't disappeared. In fact, it seemed to be growing anew and in a very annoying way. It was hard to predict his moves and his eyes continued to glare and shine in a very frightening way.

Sarina thought the whole situation resembled to the present of a bug in a closed room. You hear the buzzing sound and you know the annoying creature is near you, hanging around in the air. You know that it may let you be for a little while, but the feeling it may just strike at any given moment without a notice in advance never giving your mind find any real rest.

She continued to press upon the black keyboard, feeling how the buttons became smoother to her touch as her typing became louder and quicker. Her heart beatings were probably the only thing to work faster than her fingers at this point.

Water continued to run in streams along her forehead, eyebrows, cheeks, chin and neck, but she knew it wasn't her soaked hair which left such a watery trail. It was her sweat; The clock was ticking and frankly she didn't know how to continue and play into this game. She hoped to buy time for herself, to think this out more reasonably, conclude faults against strengths about her current situation and find better solution than just focusing into opening the damn file, but as time passed on she found herself less and less capable of resisting the feeling in the air.

Maybe it was for the fact that whenever he let her be, his present was more bearable. Maybe only when he tried to force his present did she truly found him to be disturbing her. Maybe this partnership was a bit too important to lose now. Maybe he knew that too, and he just wanted to test HER, to see how much more she was able to bear.

She shivered. Everything was a total mix of worries and doubts and that only added up with her existent stress.

"You hacked into the Kremlin Hotel server?!" he asked in a voice filled with doubt. "You do realize that's preposterous coming from a foreign young woman like yourself who knows next to nothing about our computer systems, or anything about where to locate our files."

His voice awaken her to a the reality and she looked up. His lovely eyes that crossed gazes with hers reminded her that if she stared at them for too long she won't be able to hide her true intentions anymore. It was hard to hide something when the truth was so visible upon one's face. Sarina was one of those types of people you can read them a bit too easily, even without knowing the big details. If he learns that he shall have another card. Not that Sarina was holding any joker now, mind you, it was more likely that he was seeing into her little scam but choose to 'fall' into it out of his own free choice. She could be wrong, but even if her act did prove worthy, Sarina was sure she couldn't fool him for long. She nodded as she looked back down at the screen, watching as some processing bar flashed at its progress while at another window she was trying to encode the HTML she wrote into the commend file.

True, she was a foreign. (Maybe the reason he found her to be such an exotic 'hors d'oeuvre', but saying that to him now won't serve any purpose but making him angrier). She knew well enough, without him to tell her that his country's ways were not familiar to her; Her behavior, acting, honor, speech and more were not his, but when it came down to the functioning of a machinery... It was all the same to her... A whole world and language she could speak almost fluently if she put her heart into it. She could make the CPU do her bidding the same way he could allure her body into melting right before his wills and needs.

"How could you possibly acquire the kind of familiarity required to even locate such a file? My source comes from the inside, girl, and he is about as reliable and trustworthy as any paid mercenary in Mother Russia." He paused and turned away, tilting his head and gesturing, "Now granted, that's not much, but it's better than anything else we've got..."

Then he turned back to her, "... besides your ridiculous file of course. I'm giving you five minutes. If you have it, you should be able to bring it up." Then he rose up and approached her, ready to tear her apart should it turn out that she was buying time.

"That's just about it!", she finally snapped, "Just when you say it's so hard to trust people from the outside, you go all stubborn and follow that single lead. Now I wonder, why can't I try something too?! and why do you always judge before even trying?! for heaven's sake, I learned to speak Russian in just a day, didn't I?! isn't it proof enough to you of what I'm capable of doing?! I work with you! I followed you up until now without protesting and I believe I can be more useful than that! Just trust me dammit!", when she realized she raised her tone she gasped and her eyes widen. She waited a bit to see if her sudden outburst changed anything in the delicate tension between them. His coming words told her where she was standing.

"If I didn't need you tonight, you would already be dead... or worse..." He laid a gentle, but threatening hand upon her shoulder.

She shivered at his touch, which once again transmitted so many waves of awareness that made her feel a lot of different things, all at the same time: Rejection, attraction, fear, daring, roughness, softness, anxiety, liberty. It was so hard to tell what truly was her own will and what he made her body think it needed to feel, or needed to have. Worst of all, she was so afraid to admit that she was about to be defeated in this game. If she truly wanted this...

She basically lost the moment she realized that...

She felt the fire eating her alive and in order to quieted the embers and the sensation of butterflies in her belly, she redirected her gaze back to the small screen, trying not to show him how nervous she was. In a sense she needed him too. This suffering of pain and pleasure was a deal they both drawn themselves into. She just needed to remember that she did have some power and will over it. Once she recalled of it, she would have some cards over him as well. However, doing it wasn't as easy as planning that.

Leaning down, he repeated his previous bit of information: "My source says Metro Six. Where's your source?"

"Just... just about to get to it...", she said, most of her courage leaving her at this point as she noticed his shadow landing over the screen, feeling how close he was as he pressed against her. Again it was too close to bear, especially when there was much work to be done in such a limited time. It was hard to think of combinations for password, trying to create files and folders to hack into, and also have his breathing so close to her ear, all at the same time.

She continued to work when she felt the touch of his other hand as it landed on her other shoulder. His fingers squeezed against her skin, almost creating sockets in the places the tips of the fingers paid homage to.

The screen suddenly flashed as a window popped up and the file opened. Words appeared all over and her eyes moved from side to side, trying to catch every black letter, reading the lines like a ball jumping over the lyric of old Christmas songs shows, as she tried her best not to miss even one word as she briefly and quickly passed over the document.

She made it!

She really made it!!!

She was so busy watching the file that she didn't even feel the pain as he forced his hands over her shoulders, allowing her know, in his own creative sick way, that the five minutes limit was over.

"Time's up!".

The laptop was dropped from her hands over the edges of the bed, landing softly on the carpet below. She could only wonder what happened afterwards to the small computer as her body was turned upside down, her back was pressed against the comfortable mattress.

His lips were pressed against hers, breathing and tasting her in ways she couldn't even dare to think were possible. It was a pure emotion of hunger, almost animalistic one. He pierced inward with his tongue but was surprised to know that she did the same, feeding on this energy that he sought to have for his own need.

While still over her, while still entangled with her lips, he opened up his amazing violet eyes only to learn that hers were opened all along. She didn't frowned, she didn't even seemed to be in pain. In fact... she was rather...

Pleased?!

He let go slowly as both her and him used the time apart to take few deep breaths. He watched as her glossy lips, which glittered with saliva, curved in a rather strange manner. The overprotective girl, was now a confident young woman as her lips departed, showing small, almost unnoticed sharp fangs with a raw chain of a beautiful white teeth. She smiled so widely and wildly that it was hard to recognize the same Sarina from before.

Her next action surprised him even more.

She just laughed.

And laughed.

Such a crazy laugh she had.

"Station 43, Hour 21:30. Station 6, Hour 21:15, Station 26, Hour 21:20", she uttered each and every option so clearly, rising a finger for each possible route until she was holding up three fingers, "I did it in time after all!", she said proudly.

[Koti~]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 7:02 pm
Location: The Sacred Valley, Interior of Peru

Stephanie turned crimson as Ben pulled her close, like he was trying to pull in every bit of her. Her heart started to beat as her face flushed red from the strange embrace. She had no real idea what was going on, and worse of all, she could feel Ben’s hands on her back, causing their bodies to seem to mesh together. Her breathing picked up pace a bit, her hands hanging awkwardly in the air.

“Stephanie” Ben called, his breath brushing past her ear. She turned even redder, if humanly possible. He had somehow made an already weird situation feel even more awkward, a silence hanging in air after he started

"I am so sorry for not remembering you, but I promise, I shall not forget you in the future…”

*Well, that is swe…wait what?!* Her voice mentally screamed, her body going rigid against his. Stephanie’s eyes went wide as the words slowly registered in her brain, each one dropping like a stone. Her pupils seemed to dilate and her breath caught in her chest.

*I...is he really the sa..same!* Her mind stumbled over the words, each one acting like an icy cold breath. Everything seemed to slow down as her heart beat like the tumblers in a lock. She knew what was coming, the second he had spoken that link. She braced herself, doing the first thing she could as seething rage washed over her. She wrapped her arms around Ben, holding him like a drowning man grabs for a floating log. The next she knew, tears sprang to her eyes as she bit down, her sharp incisors drawing blood from her lips.

--------------------------------
Evalon seemed to spring to life in her head, driving through it like a red hot poker, searing every other thought out of her way. Incoherent thoughts and actions rang through her head, her anger too much to articulate at the man. Words of betrayal, oaths of vengeance, and curses foul enough to cause a sailor to blush rang through her head, causing her host to cry even harder. She continued to rant, trying to take control, but finding every facet to cause torture to the man that now held her close. Soon enough she subsided, the headache completely vanished from the anger.

*How dare he hold us with such familiarity, like he knows us?! He should burn deep in the pits of hell, his skin seared from his flesh and…* She continued to fume, her words trailing away into anger. Stephanie mentally cowered in a corner, using what small control she had to keep Evalon ripping Ben to shreds and doing the same thing to the first Ben she knew.

“Ple…please don’t say something like that again… The last person, who said it to me, ended up hurting me, badly” Stephaine said, loosening her grip and stepping away some from him. She wrapped her arms behind her back and looked down, her eyes a bit red and her cheeks still burning. A silence seemed to emanate from her, sadness shrouding her body. She licked absentmindedly at the small bubble of blood on her lips, feeling alone in the silence while avoiding eye contact.

[Aheris]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 6:50 PM
Location: Sacred Valley, Interior of Peru


Lance's cooled grin stayed where it was, and without skipping a beat "Anthropology Right? Who is this woman. Take a Guess."


With her eyes wide and her stare intense, Guiliana turned to Lance. Trying to collect herself somewhat, she cleared her throat and inhaled to begin to respond to his question. However, before she could speak, a tenor voice came from behind her:

"She's the Coya Inca. She was the 'queen' of the Incas, who symbolized their mother goddess," came a voice from behind them. Benjamin Frakes stood in the entrance to the ruins with a smirk upon his face.

Suddenly surprised by this intrusion, she turned to face the voice from behind her. His hair was a dirty blonde and slighly mussed; his eyes were sky-blue and crinkling in the corners. He seemed friendly enough; but Guiliana waited for his next move.

"So what do I win, besides the pleasure of the company of... Miss Guiliana “La Bella” Della Romagna is it? Your... father is here too, isn't he?" The young blond-haired man stepped forward extending his hand. "Benjamin Frakes. You probably know who I work for."

Guiliana's eyebrows shot up. Frakes?! What the hell is he doing down here?! To cover her reaction, she twisted the left corner of her mouth into an awkward smile. Then she reached her right hand forward to meet his offer of a handshake.

"He's arriving in Lima this evening. He'd planned to accompany me out here, but events have conspired against us." She cleared her throat again. "You work for Max, if I remember correctly."

Somewhere out of her field of vision, Guiliana detected a shuffling noise.

“Be…Benjamin?” Stephanie asked, her voice sounding distant and yet so loud to her, watching the man for reaction.

Benjamin Frakes turned to the timid, pale little girl who had just had her back against the cavern wall like she had seen a ghost.“Oh… I guess I mistook you for an old friend...”

“Sorry, just a bit sleepy. My name is Stephanie.”

Guilina tilted her head to the side as she watched Stephanie approach. She found it rather odd that Stephanie had any connection to Ben whatsover..given her past...and while this was all interesting...Guiliana was shaking her right heel, hoping to dislodge the small rock that had made its way inside.

Guiliana became more interested when Stephanie embraced Ben, giving him the air-kisses that she had demonstrated earlier. Ben was not ruffled in the slightest, pulling Stephanie to him and comforting her with a few quiet words.

...I take it you're traveling with Miss Romagna? What are you doing out here?"

Ben smiled and winked over Stephanie's shoulder, while gently rubbing Stephanie's back.

Well aren't you just the gentleman...Guiliana thought, somewhat sarcasticallly. Holding her sarcasm, she laughed a bit out loud.

"I am just ...poking around. I'm a student of anthropology, as it were, and there's plenty to study down here. What about yourself, Ben?"

[~N~]

DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: From Midnight to Noon
LOCATION: Upon the ocean, ending in the Azores, Terceira Island, a Caldera

The wind howled with the vengeance of a thousand furies set upon the ship as thunderbolts arced down from the roiling skies. It was as if the ocean and wind played out the mythical war between the gods and the titans and all the world was caught in the tumultuous grip of their devastation. Once, twice, three times a wall of water crashed down upon the Cyanide, bringing with it only bitter, crushing darkness, destroying the radio, glass, and motor of the ship, while devouring with receding swallows anything that wasn't tied down.

Jeremy was an ant, clinging for dear life within the ever weakening hold of the yacht, unleashing a primal scream of frustration, containing all of his own rage at the impossible futility of his plight. The witch had sent him this way, she had sent him to an unmarked, watery grave, and she knew it.

He had not slept, for his nightmare visions all foretold his descent into this tempest, and every hour of his journey presaged it. He thought he heard a kind of bestial will in the howls of the winds, and a ferocity unnatural even to the storms of the world in the violence of the waves. It was as if the entire Ocean itself was as a guardian, unleashing upon him its hellish wrath for his trespassing over boundaries upon a course that no mortal should ever return from. Foolish Jeremy, that you should go so far, like Icarus, like Bellerophon, like Sisyphus , to surpass the natural boundaries of mortals...

But nothing would deter him from his course, and his resolve remained tied to his purpose, even when the fourth wall descended with all the irresistible force of Olympus itself, driving the yacht under, sending it down into the plummeting depths of dark oblivion...

****************************

Seagulls cried out in discordant harmony, stepping lightly around the washed up corpse upon the pale shore while natives gathered slowly like phantoms in silence around the body, wondering whether to move it or not, for surely it did not belong there.

And then it stirred. Eyelids hesitantly winced and twitched, and then slowly opened, and a choking gasp erupted convulsively from his chest like a series of explosions. Retching, his body doubled over, curling up with the pain of expelling the sea-water from his lungs. Great heaves produced a chorus of groans and coughs, while the onlookers backed away, in awe of the man now attempting to get to his knees, his body trembling and shaking.

All at once they felt it too; their worlds spinning like slow, sickening tops, their vision swimming as his did, and soon, the half-dozen that had gathered were upon the ground, vomiting as well, while the seagulls circled overhead. Feathers and flapping wings beat the sky in the next instant, as the gurgling sickness of one unfortunate witness was replaced with a stifled scream, strangled from a throat that was pierced savagely by a pair of fangs that drank the blood of their victim with vicious, uncompromising thirst. The two figures, predator and prey, blended into a sea of one for the others who could only watch but hardly comprehend or focus...

... each fell in turn... like the cattle of the Sun God to the appetite of a mortal who cared nothing for the consequences...

By noon, six bodies, pale and drained of their life now littered the shore like still phantoms being picked over by the gulls when the next passer-by happened upon the horrific sight and alerted nearby islanders with an echoing, shrill scream...
************************************************** **********
DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 7:00 PM
LOCATION: Memphis, Egypt - Grande Café

Keeping her voice low, she continued then “I am certain that it sounds crazy but she told me that there is a tale of one stone in particular, that resembles a dragon eye. I’m fascinated by such a thing; it’s said to glow of an amber color.” Shiloh allowed herself a pause, not wanting to appear overly eager to gain knowledge about the stones. Taking a bite of her potatoes then she chewed slowly, giving the professor time to take a drink of his own wine before continuing. “Have you heard of the stones Professor? If you have, could you tell me more about them and where they might be found?” Shiloh smiled slightly then “I know I could never own such a thing for my meager collection, but I would certainly love to see something like that, just once.”

Professor Langdon's smile, his warm, friendly demeanor darkened when Shiloh mentioned the fabled "Dragon's Eye". He put his wine gingerly down, and with his left hand, reached across the table to hold Shiloh's hand with a gentleness that carried with it an undeniable gravity in its touch. Professor Langdon took the subject matter very seriously, more seriously even than the recent events of Isaac's health or the other topics of conversation she had raised.

"Shiloh," he began softly, forcing her to pay attention due to the difficulty of hearing his words, "... the thing you speak of... is no mere trinket." He patted her hand in understanding that she might not have realized this. "The very first record of Egyptian kings tells of one named Hor-Aha in the first dynasty of the 3rd-4th millennium BCE. It is believed that he came by this name because he was one of the sons of the mythical Horus, who defeated the evil god Set, and founded the Dynastic Rule of Egypt for thousands of years to come."

"The reason I tell you this is because it is important to know the price that Horus paid to defeat Set. You may have seen this symbol before..." the Professor explained, reaching for a folded up piece of paper and slid it over to Shiloh. When she unfolded it, she beheld the Eye of Horus.

http://www.crystalinks.com/eyehoruspapyrus.jpg

"That is its most common depiction. But we have recently uncovered hieroglyphs that depict it in another fashion, one that makes the eye slitted like that of a wyrm--a dragon in our common language. While Horus is nearly always depicted with the head of a hawk, any student of mythology knows that the hawk and serpent are irrevocably tied together as symbols, and these new hieroglyphs call into question the exact nature of Horus's 'animal-spirit'. Other gods were known to have several forms, and it is not a stretch to believe that Horus might have had more than one form as well."

He sat back, his features growing even more serious. "What you seek... is a thing of legendary power. The king Menes took it from Hor-Aha when he supplanted him as the first ruler of Upper and Lower Egypt, bringing the two lands under a single king, and bringing with him quite possibly two different representations of Horus himself, from the two different kingdoms of Egypt, into one. Rumor has it that the Eye was an actual artifact, placed within the staff of the Pharaoh, and that it might have been the very staff that Ramses II used in his confrontation with Moses. However, the recovery of Ramses II's body found no trace of any staff at all. Archaeologists have not dismissed the Eye and Staff as mere myth..." Langdon explained, "...but rather that the Eye itself was returned to the original owner... and that its remains lie in the vicinity of Thebes, or possibly the ancient ruins of Nekhen."

"Shiloh," the Professor looked across at her with concern in his features, "if you seek this artifact, I would strongly know why, because I must accompany you on this journey, if we are to find it... together. Whatever comes of this, I am personally responsible, therefore, for the outcome. So I must know..."
************************************************** **********
DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 7:30 PM
LOCATION: Memphis, Egypt

Dr. Harold Ashton showed Sarah and Max Miller all around the ruins and royal complexes--a trek that took them past countless artifacts and ageless structures, but it was all for naught, until they descended into one last chamber in the temple of Ptah. Along the walls were the usual streams of hieroglyphs, some engraved, some colored, but the tired eyes of Sarah Richards lazily scanned the walls in faltering interest until they stopped and widened, preceding a narrowing and cinching of her eyebrows as she took a step closer to what she thought she now saw.

"Max, Dr. Ashton, what's this?" she pointed to the pictorial depiction of an eye upon the wall.

"My dear, for a student of Archaeology, you really should know better. That is the Eye of Horus," Dr. Ashton explained.

"I know that one," Miller interjected, his eyes seeming to glow for a moment as he scanned the hieroglyph, "it doesn't match."

"Exactly!" Sarah cried out, her thoughts confirmed by Max's statement.

Dr. Ashton's eyes narrowed, "Well, there's more than one."

"What?" Sarah asked, turning on him. "What do you mean?" Miller followed up as they both faced him.

The professor backed up and smiled, his face a look of amusement, "There are at least two known depictions of the Eye of Horus! That's the lesser known one... the one you almost never see."

"It looks like a Serpent's Eye to me," Sarah replied.

"Well..." Harold looked over her to the hieroglyph again and nodded, "Yes, well... there are legends that Horus had more than a passing affiliation with Serpents as well as Falcons, my dear. But those are typically very ancient, Pre-Dynastic depictions. So odd to see one up here..." he mused.

"Upper Egypt!" Sarah exclaimed, looking for Dr. Ashton's confirmation of her guess.

"Yes, that's where you would find Pre-Dynastic depictions, to be certain..." he replied.

"Take us there..." Maximillian Miller demanded.

"You want to go down there?" Harold replied, now the one wearing the puzzled expression.

"Yes," Sarah replied. "Immediately," Miller confirmed.

"Tomorrow," Dr. Ashton answered. "They won't let us go anywhere near there tonight..."

"At dawn then."

"You're the boss, Max. Tomorrow's your last day though. I've got work I must get back to, and if you weren't making a nice downpayment on my dig site, I wouldn't even give you that," Dr. Ashton grumbled.

************************************************** **********
Date: August 21st, 2042
Time: 12:10 AM
Location: Cachora, Peru

"Father Francis, I believe every word you spoke. If you don't mind I would like to accompany you on this mission of yours. At least I could make myself useful as I've got great skills in this type of thing," Nicolai stated as he smiled and gave Father Francis a soft hug before standing and retrieving his bags after the bus had stopped completely.

This was his stop so he knew it was Father Francis's as well. Grabbing his gear, he stood at the entrance of the bus awaiting Father Francis to get off.

Father Francis smiled and accepted Nicolai's offer of assistance, "I would be grateful for your aid on this journey, Nicolai. I do not ask it of you, but I will not turn down such an offer made from the generosity of your heart."

"But for now, in this darkness, we must find some place to rest. Let me see what's available." The priest proceeded ahead of him, welcoming a local guide with fluent Spanish and asking him about accommodations. The guide helpfully replied that while there were no "motels" or any such thing in as a remote a region as this, that there were temporary shelters, available to guests passing through, which at the very least provided four walls and a roof over one's head, and room enough for four people to comfortably sleep in for the night before they continued on their journey.

Father Francis came back and explained to Nicolai the situation. "As I am traveling alone, I will happily accept your company in the shelter I'll be sleeping in tonight. If you don't mind, I wish to peruse the tome I've brought with me a little longer. Although..." he glanced around, "I'm going to have to find an adequate source of light. I'm fairly certain they don't have electricity here, and I don't think they'll allow torches inside. Heh..."

With that, Father Bernardo Francis set off towards the shelter, which looked like a kind of hut, bringing his equipment inside and with some effort, placing it along the inside wall of the hut. Looking through the pieces in the dark, he brought out a broken lantern, the cracked electric bulb clearly unable to function.

"Damn," he muttered, smiling wryly at that remark--hearing a priest curse was quite a different thing from hearing it out of anyone else. "And me without even a lighter to read by..."

************************************************** **********
DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 2:10 AM
LOCATION: Bran Castle, Romania

The shadows of the castle loomed large, and the old doors creaked as Agent Sandler made his way inside. A thought immediately struck him as he entered.

Shouldn't this be locked? He kept his weapon drawn, and clicked on the flashlight, scanning the walls and furnishings quickly with its beam. His footsteps became a light softer. Agent Sandler had the distinct impression that he was not alone but he couldn't put his finger on it. The door should've been locked. Someone else was here.

Carefully, the FBI agent went from room to room, climbing the twisting stairs higher until he reached a storage room where boxes and other seemingly unimportant items were stored, probably for a lengthy period of time as the whole place seemed to harbor a layer of dust that he could even see floating around in motes in the air before him. It gave the atmosphere of the castle a phantasmal feel that it certainly needed no help in creating. He was just about to exit this dusty room when his beam fell upon something distinct...

Handprints on the crates. They were fresh handprints. Someone was definitely here. The palm of the hand that held the firearm began to grow moist with perspiration as he felt the adrenaline kick it up another notch in his bloodstream.

"I knew she was here," Agent Sandler muttered to himself, descending the staircase with peering, hawk-like eyes.

As he turned back, exiting the room he had noticed an ancient door, with a padlock on it. Pulling on it, he found it was locked. "Wonder where this goes...", Sandler said aloud to himself, but then he heard what he thought was the sound of someone at the main doors. Slinking back into a shadowy corner, Sandler held his breath and waited. Silence. With careful steps, he peered around the corner and decided to make certain no one else was in the castle with him--the last thing he needed was to have to answer questions about his presence in the Castle after dark to Romanian authorities. The truth would be a difficult sell.[/I]

************************************************** **********
Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: Unknown
Location: FBI Safe House, Romania

“I’ll wear a transmitter. Something small and discreet that will give you my location wherever that might be. Before I leave you can give me a cell phone and when I have Tansy with me I’ll send you a message.”

He tapped his finger on the table as he continued. They were already cold enough that the chill of the metal was not even noticeable. “That’s the only way you’ll succeed in getting her, Brassier. She’s a smart girl and, as she has already proven, difficult to catch. If you want her as bad as you claim then trust me, this is the way.”

“I’ll also need some money unless you want to give me my wallet and credit cards back. A vehicle would be nice too if you want me to get around efficiently. A bike would be preferable as that’s more my style.”

Brassier narrowed his eyes. He liked Dr. Fynn less and less all the time. Still, he grudgingly respected the man's ability to bargain under pressure, albeit foolishly at times. He would, like Dr. Fynn, have to "play ball" if he was going to get his catch of the day. Hauling Tansy in was priority number one, and he wasn't going to miss an opportunity to use the doctor in accomplishing this purpose.

"Very well, Dr. Fynn. I'll give you a phone and transmitter that you are to wear at all times with you. If I find that you have somehow misplaced it, I will personally make sure you never practice medicine again... anywhere."

Agent Brassier stood up from the table and fixed his suit jacket. "Because I still don't trust you as far as I can throw you, I'm putting a deadline on your little jaunt: You have 48 hours."

Then he turned and began walking out of the room, delivering his last words over his shoulder, "My agents will uncuff you and give you the transmitter and phone, which you will use to tell me when you've located Tansy James. You can find your own transportation."

Opening the door, he glanced back at Dr. Thomas Fynn with steely eyes, "Whether you have found her or not, in 48 hours, you're going back to Alesia." Then he disappeared through it. In a few moments time, the other agents came in and released Dr. Fynn.

"We'll be watching you," Agent Garrus said with a smile and a wink.

"More than that..." Agent Sandler muttered, turning away.

************************************************** **********
DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 12:30 AM
LOCATION: Unknown Hotel in Moscow, Russia.

"Station 43, Hour 21:30. Station 6, Hour 21:15, Station 26, Hour 21:20", she uttered each and every option so clearly, rising a finger for each possible route until she was holding up three fingers, "I did it in time after all!", she said proudly.

He was on top, but she was laughing with triumph. The stark irony struck him with enough force to make him pause and consider her in a light other than prey. Calculating eyes searched her expression in an odd moment of silence, as though he were for the first time searching through the darkness of something he did not quite understand as fully as he had hoped.

What else was she capable of?

The thought was enough to do more than give him pause. And yet, his own desire told him to mask it, to pursue her without any further hesitation, to appear as though her victory in this case was not much more than meaningless. Still, it would do him good to justify the pause with a reasonable response while he had her down.

"Impressive, Sarina. Very impressive." He considered her response. "It is not something I had considered before, but they might very well be using the train instead of the actual station as a place for their meeting... And if that's the case, then Station 43 would actually be the best place to intercept them..."

Then he leaned down and whispered with his teeth and lips a breath away from her ear, and his broad chest pressing down upon her, "Although," his tongue flicked forward, "if that's the case, it may be that the last station will deliver only the dead, and not the prize, in which case Station 26, or even 6 would be the ones we should consider..."

"But then..." he now sucked more fully upon her ear as he pressed his body against her, his breath coming huskily into her body, sending a sensational chill down through her just beneath her skin, "I've always been one to just take everything, so perhaps we should just intend to pay each..." Lick. "... and every..." Bite. "...station..." Suck. "... a visit..." He tugged sensuously at her ear as his fingers tightened around her body.

"What do you say, my dear?" he whispered huskily in her ear, "Take all...or just certain parts..." She could almost feel his smile, as his dark mane draped around her skin in the darkness, the weight and strength of his shifting, pressing body becoming more present around her with each passing moment...
************************************************** **********
Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 7:10 PM
Location: Sacred Valley, Interior of Peru

He never got the chance to meet that extended hand of Guiliana's before Stephanie was upon him.

She wrapped her arms around Ben, holding him like a drowning man grabs for a floating log. The next she knew, tears sprang to her eyes as she bit down, her sharp incisors drawing blood from her lips.

Ben Frakes nearly stumbled and choked as Stephanie suddenly gripped him with all the sudden unnatural strength of a victim in their dying moments. He could feel the tension in her body, and the surprising grip she fastened upon him, and he instinctively put his hands upon her body to push her away.

"Steph... you're going to need to let me go..." It sounded awkward, and the way he said was awkward, but the look on his face was one of astonishment and bewilderment as he struggled to free himself from her.

His eyes bugged out of his head as he stared at Guiliana and then to Lance, as if pleading to them with his eyes for their help.

“Ple…please don’t say something like that again… The last person, who said it to me, ended up hurting me, badly” Stephaine said, loosening her grip and stepping away some from him.

Benjamin shuddered and straightened himself out, loosening up his collar reflexively and glancing at her nervously. "I'm... sorry..." he nervously apologized. "I had no idea... it won't happen again, I promise."

Well aren't you just the gentleman...Guiliana thought, somewhat sarcasticallly. Holding her sarcasm, she laughed a bit out loud.

"I am just ...poking around. I'm a student of anthropology, as it were, and there's plenty to study down here. What about yourself, Ben?"

"I'm here on company business, as you probably have already guessed, Guiliana," he replied, and then narrowed his eyes, "May I call you Guiliana? I'm frankly surprised to see you here. Hotel business too boring to stay put I imagine though." He grinned and shook his head.

"And who's the leering young man over there? I've not known you to keep close-relationships for long with anyone, so I can only assume he's new." Benjamin knew he was pushing her buttons, but Miss Della Romagna was considered to be sometimes competition to Mr. Miller, and he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to poke her with the information and surveillance his boss was only too happy to order gathered on her and her dealings and whereabouts.

Lance on the other hand was a complete mystery. Ben didn't recall seeing anyone of that description in his own review of her files.

"You're down here for anthropology and I'm here to see the ruins. Seems we're here on common purpose. And if those particular depictions are correct, then I've clearly made a terrible detour. Unless..."

It was then that he stepped forward between them and searched the floor, feeling for something it seemed like....

"It is possible that these caves are connected by underground rivers..." he muttered more to himself than anyone, "I wonder..."

[Rook]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 7:10 PM
Location: Sacred Valley, Interior of Peru

Lance watched as Stephanie grasped and hugged and air kissed, and cried with a particular contempt. She clearly, as the man had stated, didn’t know this Benjamin Frakes. But she swore she did, and Guiliana didn’t but from what he gathered, they knew each other somehow. That started gears turning.

”Stephanie thinks she knows him. That could be a fluke. More and more I’m beginning to think that the wacky shack could very well be where the kid belongs. But none the less, Guiliana does know him, and he has made it abundantly obvious that he knows her. That means this guy, whoever the hell he is, is more than likely from Alesia… And Father Francis was on the plane too… And not the Preachy Priest I knew from church either… He isn’t here for mission work… He’s here on a mission… He looked more determined that I’d ever known him to be. So… At least five people from Alesia flew to Lima, and are four are poking around in these ruins… I know what I’m after… At least I have a general idea of what I’m after. Could they be-"

"And who's the leering young man over there? I've not known you to keep close-relationships for long with anyone, so I can only assume he's new." Ben asked, snark evident. Lance opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by continuation. "You're down here for anthropology and I'm here to see the ruins. Seems we're here on common purpose. And if those particular depictions are correct, then I've clearly made a terrible detour. Unless..."

“Ah, so my identity isn’t all that important to you… That’s fine… Get between me and my prize, and I think you’ll remember my name pretty quickly. Please Lance, don’t kill me! Yeah, has a nice timbre to it.”

Lance followed swiftly as he brushed and stood over him as he examined the floor.

"It is possible that these caves are connected by underground rivers... I wonder...”

It was grumbled out low but with how close Lance was, hearing it wasn’t much of an issue. And that was his prompt.

“Yeah… Hi, Lance Navarette. We haven’t met. You said a terrible detour… Where exactly were you going? And what’s this about underground rivers?” It was at this time Lance knelt down and began to search the floor near where Ben searched, hoping to see what he was trying to find.

[Koti~]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 7:10 PM
Location: Sacred Valley, Interior of Peru

“An underground river?” Stephanie thought out loud, mulling the words over as she stepped into the room, staying away from Ben. She watched with some interest as the man felt around on the floor, looking as though he had dropped something. Her mind wandered elsewhere thought, trying to connect the thought of river to underground. Suddenly a thought dawned on her, and she began to bounce up and down on the balls of her feet, a smile crawling on her face as though she had just solved some riddle.

“A river is like an unborn snake of water! Weaving and bending around the land, always moving forward.” Stephanie shouted out in glee before a blush crept up on her face.

“Sorry… I remember once reading a book at the orphanage and it mentioned snakes. Which seemed cool, the snake thing, not the reading, though reading was fun. They always move forward and most that burrow under the ground go by smell of the air, by flicking their tongue in and out” Stephanie began to prattle, ranting on random things about snakes that seemed to be like from a dictionary as she walked around the room.

She barely looked where she was going until she ran into the cloth, blinking as she brushed the strands away. She had been preoccupied about her retelling of the info she knew, even though some of it related back to the rivers, but now she looked down. With the angle of the sun, it threw shadows at the ground. She looked closer and saw an arrow shape on the ground, pointing towards something. Bending down, she ran her hand along the arrow shape, and seemed to note that it was more shaped like some sort of weapon.

She followed the point though, and noticed that it seemed to point to a heavily faded picture of a woman standing above a river, a moon above her and a blue drop.

“Oh… who is the pretty lady?” She asked out loud, reaching her hand up to brush against the picture, noticing a slight raise when her fingers brushed over the moon. She placed her fingers over the moon image again, to feel the raise again, and a slight raise. She leaned into it, pressing the stone that made the moon, and felt something click into place.

“Uh…. Is it supposed to do this?” Stephanie asked as she hurried back, a slight rumbling filling the room.

[Mysteria]

DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 7:30 PM
LOCATION: Memphis, Egypt - Grande Café


When the professor first began speaking Shiloh listened, formulating the answer that she would tell him as to why she wanted the stones. She had decided upon telling him that the more he spoke about it, the more it’s history intrigued her and that he had piqued her curiosity causing the mere thought of seeing one to be even more alluring to her; but after listening to his story and hearing the pitch of his voice change and having become more serious, Shiloh then stopped her search for something to tell him and listened to all of what he was telling her. His eyes reflected a concern that went beyond just mere superstition or silly legend. He was somber, his tone indicative of just how serious he took the matter to be.

"The reason I tell you this is because it is important to know the price that Horus paid to defeat Set. You may have seen this symbol before..."


Shiloh looked at the drawing, recognizing the symbol from some books in her father’s expansive library on archaeology. As she studied the drawing the professor continued, lowering his voice and a grave expression crossing his face, he said "Shiloh, if you seek this artifact, I would strongly know why, because I must accompany you on this journey, if we are to find it... together. Whatever comes of this, I am personally responsible, therefore, for the outcome. So I must know..."


Shiloh sat for a moment, thoughtful as she sipped her wine reflecting on his every word. It seemed like an eternity before she finally answered him, her mind flying so fast filled with revealing and disturbing thoughts as realization set in fully. Everything Micah had told her about the stones powers was true. Then Shiloh froze, her own features turning almost ashen as the full impact of everything else Micah had told her settled over her with an icy grip. Her mind whirled in those seconds… what she was…the stones…their power…control of that power…good…evil…and the consequences.

Shiloh swallowed hard, taking a sip of her wine with shaking hands. How could she possibly tell the professor and even worse, would he even believe her if she did tell him? And then there was the matter of him wishing to accompany her. She couldn’t possibly put him at risk knowing full well how dangerous this could become. If she had to take care of herself, that was one thing and given her powers, she wasn’t afraid to try; but to hold the life of someone so dear to her and her family was an idea she didn’t even wish to entertain, no matter how helpful his knowledge could be.

Then a shiver washed over her as she sat across the table from Thomas Langdon, feeling as though a slight breeze had brushed against her skin she hearing the words “Evil cannot stand here Shiloh.” It was Micah’s voice repeating what he’d said once before. She looked around wide eyed, but he wasn’t there, not even a trace of a glimmer.

She looked across the table at the Professor as she absentmindedly played with her food still trying to find the right words to say or if she should even say anything. Then the path became even clearer to her. Micah! She’d looked it up after she’d first seen him. The angel of the divine plan. His purpose was to watch over spiritual evolution and reveal the next step of our path. A befitting need indeed for someone like Shiloh who had slowly lost her belief, her faith over the years. Micah was guiding her. He’d told her to believe. Was this is his way of telling her to confide in Langdon, to seek his guidance? Kaitlin had told her about the artifacts, but it had been Micah that had told her about the power of the stones.

Shiloh sat her fork down, not picking up her drink but instead folding her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking as she finally spoke to the Professor. “Professor” she began, her eyes trying to convey that what she was about to tell him, she believed to be as the truth. “I’m not sure how to begin.” Shiloh went on then, proceeding to tell Thomas Langdon the entire story of how something had changed within her, allowing her to find Micah. She told him about Micah being an angel “Have you ever heard of the angel Micah? It is said that he is the angel of the divine plan, that his purpose is to watch over our spiritual evolution and reveal the next step of our path.” Shiloh kept her voice low, leaning forward, bringing one hand from the underneath the table and reaching across and laying it on top of her friends hand “I know this is going to sound farfetched but please hear me out.” Shiloh swallowed, feeling her throat to be parched but she knew it was just her nerves “I believe, that I have been visited by an angel named Micah. I can’t explain it but since the solar storm happened, something about my senses had changed, my perception changed. I saw things, inexplicable things. I would sometimes see a golden glowing light when I moved to Alesia. One day, I followed it. That day is the day I met Micah. He told me” Shiloh paused “things, unbelievable, disturbing things.” In Shiloh’s mind, she couldn’t help but wonder if some of those things could also pertain to her beloved Isaac. Shiloh shuddered at the thought.

Shiloh finished then, telling him everything, including what Micah had told her she herself had become, about the stones, the power that they held and how whoever held the stones would hold all of the power. He had told her their would be many that would seek the stones, and how if evil ever held them it would bring destruction to the world. “When I told you that my friend Kaitlin had told me about some articfacts, that was true. But it was Micah that led me here, to you. Professor, I believe that he led me to you for a reason, so you could tell me the history, so it would reinforce what he told me. So I would…believe and use my gifts.”

She became quiet then, almost reflective before looking up at Thomas Langdon, smiling softly “So you can see now Professor, I must know more about these stones. I must find them. “ She patted his hand then as she finished “But I cannot ask you to go any further with me. I can’t put you into possible danger.”


It was better to go without the professor, or Isaac, it would be safer for them both this way, but although they wouldn’t be going with her, Shiloh now understood that she would never be alone, that she had never been alone.

[Kris]

DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 00:30-02:30 AM
LOCATION: Unknown Hotel in Moscow, Russia.


Condemn her to this fire. Let her burn. Let her feel the ashes. Let her breath be caught within the smoke of the weakest of embers first and then choke her with the heavy ones later. Blind her with the curtains of the night. Hide the truth with a mask of passion. This lust is ever-growing and so hard to escape from. The point of no return is reaching near. The will dies within it and so does the brave heart that seeks to find salvation.

There is none.

Crazy dance, caught in a limbo of another world. Dimension without a sun, nights with no mother moon. Stars of hopes are deemed to fall from the early days of genesis.

Moans.

And soft breathing.

And hunger.

Excitement.

The bed chamber is where the rules are changed to be replaced with new ones. The roles reverse; once a hunter, now a prey; Reality replaced with an illusion. Twisted ballet of spontaneous clumsy movements.

Regime of beauty or an absurd Theatre?

It was all the same to them.

He dived in to take more, just like he knew she wanted him to do, encouraging her to bite from the forbidden fruit.

Delicious.


***


He halted and she enjoyed the look of doubt upon his face. His eyes shone with less brightness and his lips and eyebrows turned into a frown. She didn't know why, but she found this expression of him to be so beautiful.

Well... Maybe she did know why; It was his turn to move and he hesitated. There was even a slight anger in his expression which indicted that she was able to surprise him.

To bring him into this position felt wonderful.

She turned to lean on her arms as she arched upward, her black hair jumping with her as she raised herself slowly to take a better look of him. Her lips never departing from the huge smile that adorned them. She felt relaxed now as her hands twiddled against the bedclothes, feeling how cold and smooth they were below the pads of her fingers and how sensual was the feeling as they hit against her nails. She looked up to him, waiting for an approval to get up and leave. She did her part after all, as was promised. She won against him in this game.

But...

What looked to be a victory bypassed to an admonishment. It was as if the music was allowed to continue from where it stopped and for the dance to go on anew.

Before she could have put up another fight, Sarina felt his heavy weight over her and the loss of her cloths. His hair was ever so visible against her skin, and his flesh just urged against her body.

He pressed and moved and raged.

Yet...

She couldn't resist him from this point onward.

Well... Maybe she could... But there was something that just drove her to go along with it, to feel his rhythm and join in to create a melody together.

His tongue worked overtime and so did her heart. Her breathing became heavy and she was sweating like a marathon racer. She blushed crazily as he caught on "spots" she considered sacred and well hidden. Being oversensitive didn't help her against him for it felt like with each and every movement of his she was drawing deeper and deeper into his web, like an ignorant butterfly.

Speaking of which...

She gasped for a moment when she noticed a familiar trademark; His hawk like eyes looked down at her from the mask of white makeup and colorful powder, which appeared again without a warning.

Illusion. It had to be an illusion followed by a mix of feelings he brought into this reunion to make things more exciting.

So unfair of him....

He grinned as everything she felt changed according to what he wanted her to feel. It was a crazy beat before, but now it was as if he was taking it to a higher destination of colors and sounds.

She shivered as he dived in again and again, feeling his hairs crawling against her shoulders and neck like little spiders while his teeth still nibbled on her ear. His hands played tricks on her body as he kneaded and casted her hide like a master craftsman.

It was too much... too much...

But as the sounds that broke from her throat grew louder and wilder she realized she wanted...

More...

Not just few parts...

Not just certain parts...

She wanted them both to take... EVERYTHING.

She blushed and moaned terribly and he probably never realized that the reason was because something in her brain was lecturing her about being too greedy. That modest protective barrier called on her to shake any "dirty" desires off, telling her to watch where she was, to understand her position, to know what she was against and to realize with what she was dealing.

Yet...

There were streams of sensations that irked her body to move and groan and enjoy this. Electricity, or energy, or whatever it was....

God.

It just felt good. It felt warm. It felt right.

Where was the reason now for heaven's sake?

Dammit, she wanted to dance and surrender herself to this fight of lust. Falling from grace... Was never this sweet....

She smiled as she reached for him, gripping on his upper body with her hands and holding to his lower parts with her legs, "I say...", she arched herself against him, "Let's....", she bite his neck and suck on a spot there, "Just...", she breathed on the spot slowly just to move for another close by location, "Do all we can do... Everything we can do...".

Her mind showed her a map of his body with possible pleasurable locations that she just felt like trying and explore. She hoped to teach him a thing or two about his body as well.

"And once we finish that... let's do more...".


***


"We will need to plan this carefully", she said to the darkness, feeling his hands passing over her dark hair, entangling strips over his fingers like spinning wheels.

He hummed with agreement, still drenched with excitement and lust, but it felt like he was just tuning in to let her know he was still there than actually agreeing with her.

It was hard to tell what was on his mind and if he was indeed listening to her, but she decided to press on, "There are short time windows in between, but I'm not sure if it will be enough for us to pay a visit to each and every train... We may need to skip an option or two after all...", she sighed, "I dunno... We still have some more hours to think... but it seems like we don't have much time at all...".

Now, lying next to his naked body, after the emotions had settled down, she felt how the guilt and the shame turned to build themselves within her. Coming here, joining this man she did not know, trusting him... Was it all wise to do?...

She sighed, but just decided to follow her resolve which ordered her to not back off now. But... In order to suppress the foul thoughts she tried to think of something else, "I dunno why... But I think we need to go for station 26 if we fail to visit them all... ", she looked up to him, "Say... I know you may want to keep all the cards to yourself... but... for the record... is your name Anatoliy?".

His hands let go of her and he arched upward, his eyes looking down at her with a surprise, "Is this your best guess for a name?", he said and stroke her right cheek gently, ending his hand's track by grabbing her jaw line within his palm, raising her chin up some and passing his thumb over her glossy lips.

"No...", she nodded, looking somewhat exhausted, "I'm tired of this game. I just want to have some answers". All these worries and fears were just too much at this point. She turned to stare at him, "I tell you what I know in return... The name I just spoke.... In that computer file...There was a name there a guy called Victor said to be worried of... I figured it was you...", she gazed into his amazing eyes for a long long while before she pressed on, "Please, you don't have tell me more, but I have a lot of questions regardless. Is this your name? Who is this Victor? What he is to you?".

[Prophet]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: Unknown
Location: FBI Safe House, Romania

Thomas had to force himself not to release a heavy sigh of relief the moment Agent Brassier agreed to his terms. Honestly he had thought by asking for even more aside his own freedom was a bit much but it turned out that, while the man had no sense of humor, he was at least tolerant of a few things. While he was using him for his own gains at least. He watched in silence as his opponent rose from his seat and delivered a threat that could have had more weight if Thomas wasn’t already dead certain his career as a doctor was about as over as it could be. Short of creating a false identity he’d never get hired in a hospital again after this fiasco.

48 hours… Could be worse.

Twenty minutes later he was being lead through the simple door at the front of the building and out onto a mostly empty city street. The phone they intended for him to use when he found Tansy was only a slight weight in his pocket. Though the tracking device was even smaller it was what seemed to weigh him down most. It was naught more than a simple watch around his left wrist, perfectly acceptable and beyond notice in any country and yet damning in that it would give them his location to within a five foot margin… not exactly something that was easy to trick. Luckily he had time for that. Two days in fact before they would come swarming all over his position, wherever that may be.

A glance at the sky showed the bright moon near to the center and at the peak of its nightly rotation. He pulled the phone from his pocket as the Agent who had escorted him out left him outside the doorway into the chilly night. The time read 1:30 AM… not the most convenient time to be dumped onto the street but he could roll with the punches as well as any man. He looked both ways down the street, trying to discern exactly where he even was right now since the feds had not been kind enough to clue him in. He decided to go right, striding down the street quickly as if he had his destination set firmly in mind though that was definitely not the case. All was not as bad as it could be though. When Brassier had shown him Tansy’s image he’d caught a glimpse of an address in Romania. Perhaps he could start there…

Even with that thought though he didn’t get far before an unmarked black sedan with dark tinted windows rolled past. He slowed in his steps, staring after it a moment. That was a Federal Agent or he was a born again virgin… Making an impulse decision he glanced about the street and headed quickly for a dark bike parked out in the street before a small corner restaurant…


~~~~~~~~~~

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 2:10 AM
LOCATION: Bran Castle, Romania

Thomas offered a silent thanks to his uncle back overseas. The man was a motorcycle mechanic and had been the cause of his own interest in bikes growing up. Whenever he encountered a problem he couldn’t fix on his own he called his uncle for advice. He’d learned a lot from that man… including how to start a bike without a key to put in the ignition. Stealing was wrong of course but he didn’t have the luxury of wasting too much time in considering that breech of proper law and moral conduct. There were bigger fish to fry and the stakes in this game were too high as it is.

He’d been following that unmarked vehicle for what seemed an eternity. Through one stop and then another and so on and so forth. Always he’d kept a good distance in the hopes that he would avoid discovery but as he was no expert in such things it was hard to say if he managed it or not. The driver hadn’t taken off in an effort to shake his tail at least so that had to be a good sign. In the movies when a man realized he was being followed he tried to shake him. Movies were a reflection of real life… right?

The imposing structure of Bran castle loomed before him as he drove the bike slowly up the drive. He’d watched the car turn into the road that lead up to it and had waited a good ten minutes before following in the hopes it would allow him to avoid detection. He wasn’t certain what a federal agent wanted within such a place, or why anyone would want to be there anyway… but he wasn’t in a position to ask questions. He pulled up into the parking area and spotted the sedan right away. There was another vehicle too, a truck that no doubt belonged to some manner of security personnel that was assigned to patrol this place. Thomas felt sorry for whatever bloke drew that particular short straw.

It was dark inside and he didn’t have anything to use for a light. Still he knew the agent had gone inside and so he hugged a wall to the right, using it to help guide him through the complete darkness. He could see light flashing into view up ahead, the beam of a flashlight passing through the halls as the man he had followed searched through the darkness. What would it have been like to live here back in medieval times, Thomas suddenly wondered. People had to be bonkers to take comfort in big, dark fortresses such as this…

"I knew she was here," he heard a familiar voice hiss from between clenched teeth and Thomas immediately drew up short. She? Was this man talking about Tansy? The young doctor had a thousand different questions but no answers just yet save for one. He knew the identity of the man he followed. Agent Sandler had one of those voices you just never forgot once you heard it. It was that damned annoying.

Thomas felt his way around the corner, found himself at the entrance of a stairwell and looked up just in time to see Sandler walking from the room. He barely had time to think, to properly react before that bright beam was being turned back down the stairs where it would reveal his presence in the darkness and end the game prematurely. Thomas darted back behind the corner, hugging the wall, trying to will himself into it just to ensure the man didn’t spot him when his approaching footsteps brought him past that corner and into view. An idea occurred to him then, a way out that was so obvious it was a wonder he hadn’t considered it sooner. He chalked it up to being an actual civil servant rather than a criminal who would have immediately turned to this route.

As Agent Sandler neared the corner Thomas had used to conceal himself the man cocked his fist back, his entire body tensing in preparation for the attack to come. He had only ever been in a few bar room brawls before but he hadn’t lost them. How much more difficult could a fully trained federal agent be? He saw the barrel of that pistol with the next step, and then another brought Sandler’s arm into view. It was just as the man cleared the wall that Thomas threw everything he had into a solid right hook. His fist collided painfully with the side of Agent Sandler’s face, connecting at the hinge of the jaw where it was most likely to break something and rattle his brain. He had thrown all his weight behind it, gave it everything he had… Sandler didn’t have a chance. He crumpled into a heap on the spot. It was fortunate that he did too for the pain that shot up through Thomas’s hand made him useless for at least five seconds after the strike as he shook that hand to try and relieve some of the ache. He felt his knuckles, ensuring everything was still in place before finally stopping to search the body. No one ever talks about how painful it can be to punch someone… for some reason that detail always gets left out though he could not imagine why.

The agent’s pistol was a must so Thomas pocketed that immediately. Then he searching through the pockets of his suit and withdrew a wallet. The credit cards were useless as they could be tracked but there were a couple hundred dollars worth in foreign bills that he gladly accepted as a charitable donation to the keeping Thomas alive fund. Finally he removed the watch that told the FBI where he was and slid it inside Sandlers right inside jacket pocket. He wasn’t even sure why suits had an inside pocket on the right anyway since no one ever checked it. The hard part came next since he had to drag the bastard out… Suffice it to say Federal Agents weren’t all that mindful of their weight.

With Sandler set more or less comfortably in the driver seat of his sedan Thomas closed the door and immediately drew out the cell phone they had given him. He tossed that into the bed of the pickup that was also parked there. If it did belong to a security guy hopefully it would be taken somewhere far away from here. Agent Brassier would be after him with a vengeance soon and he didn’t want to give him any more leads than he had to.

That done, Thomas drew the pistol he’d commandeered from the federal agent and clicked on the light. Sandler had believed he’d discovered Tansy’s location… If she was here he had to find her fast. There was no time to waste. He entered the building once more. Finding the staircase once again was easy, even more so with the light. Rather then ascend to look at whatever Agent Sandler had found though he turned toward the door that he presumed would take him further down. It was locked, barring him from his passing. Luckily he had a decent tool to get beyond it.

A pair of deafening shots boomed through the stone halls, hurting his ears but those well placed shots destroyed the handle and lock and the door swung cleanly open.

Ok... Creepy Castle, here I come...

[Aheris]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 7:10 PM
Location: Sacred Valley, Interior of Peru


As Stephanie had let Frakes out of her grasp, his relief was painted clearly on his face. With his next words, it seemed he was trying to recover his lost equilibrium.

"I'm here on company business, as you probably have already guessed, Guiliana," he replied, and then narrowed his eyes, "May I call you Guiliana? I'm frankly surprised to see you here. Hotel business too boring to stay put I imagine though." He grinned and shook his head.

Guiliana was a little bemused by Ben's response.Company business? Seriously? No, I didn't guess. Her internal voice sounded particularly snarky.

"I've already called you Ben. One follows the other, I suppose..." Guiliana lightened her tone somewhat, trying to be more casual. She was trying to appear as neutral as possible. Maybe I can work a little information out of him. He seems...a little more sheltered than Max's usual crew. It looks like Max has been hiring the bookish boys lately.Hm.

"And who's the leering young man over there? I've not known you to keep close-relationships for long with anyone, so I can only assume he's new."

"No disrespect intended, Ben, but we don't know each other..or haven't for long, that is."

She looked at Ben again, his frame tense as he stood before her. He was over-dressed to be out in the ruins with his collared shirt, and apparently uncomfortable. Behind him, the afternoon sun was turning more golden as it filtered through the trees. Outside of the small shrine, the bank of the river was covered in scrubby, pale yellow grass.

He doesn't recognize Lance. But he's clearly been trying to get the goods on me...And Lance says he's been living on the island for a while. Why wouldn't he turn up something on him too?

"You're down here for anthropology and I'm here to see the ruins. Seems we're here on common purpose. And if those particular depictions are correct, then I've clearly made a terrible detour. Unless..."

Common purpose? I wasn't here to see the ruins, Ben. I'm here to find something...or look for it, at least. Unless you're as naive as you're pretending, you're here for something too. Fuck.

As she realized this, she saw Frakes shuffle his feet around. Guiliana saw his eyes searching the room, and looking down at the floor. He was mumbling to himself...She had a very uncomfortable feeling starting to grow in the bottom of her stomach. Trying to keep from tipping him one way or another, she bit her tongue before the urge to speak could interfere.

And Lance was watching his every move, lurking behind as Ben examined the floor. If Guiliana had any sort of intuition, all of the alarms were ringing.

We've got four people in this room and at least three of them are looking for something, maybe the same thing. I know there are legends surrounding the Teardrop, but do they have any idea what they're trying to get their hands on? Even if there isn't anything to all the hearsay, neither of these two are prepared to deal with a specimen like that. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Her inner swearing was abruptly ended by a childish exclamation from the periphery.

“Oh… who is the pretty lady?" Stephanie immediately reached out and touched the mosaic. Her small fingers were probing the moon above the Coya Inca's upturned face, then pressing into the stone. Click.

Somewhere inside the small shrine, stone was rumbling against stone.

Ahh...Jesus bleeding Christ on a damn stick..

“Uh…. Is it supposed to do this?" Stephanie asked as she hurried back.

Guiliana looked around, hoping the shrine remained stable. Luckily, it did. And even more luckily, Ben had turned towards the doorway. Finding Lance's eyes, she quickly tilted her head to one side. Silently, she mouthed the words :

"Distract him for a minute..."

And cleared her throat, preparing to speak in a calculated tone to both of them. Guiliana had stepped forward, covering a small slippage between the stonework.

"We should see if anything happened to the building here. Why don't you two go check outside?"

Please. Just give me a solitary minute.

She knelt down and slid her fingers into the few inches wide gap in the shrine's floor. The arrow that Stephanie had followed was pointing the other direction. Something must have been shifted over the past few hundred years...There was nothing but air in the gap, however those stones were not going to budge.

Maybe he was right. If there was an underground river, perhaps they made some sort of passage linking the different sites. Max had been digging around on the island, but that's too far North for anything Incan. Maybe that's why Ben is here...They're looking for it .

The tour was going to be moving on soon, and Guiliana didn't know what would be there when she was able to return. She pulled out her phone and took a couple quick shots of the quipu, the relief of the Goddess, and the stonework.

As she did, she saw the message from her father. He had arrived at the hotel in Lima, and from what he said in the message he seemed perturbed that she wasn't at the hotel. Oh well. I'll just have to explain myself when we get back. And figure out what to do with this motley crew....

"I suppose we had better get moving, before the bus leaves without us!" She said this cheerily, walking outside and making a determined stride towards the odiferous bus.

"C'mon."

[~N~]

DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 02:30-03:00 AM
LOCATION: Unknown Hotel in Moscow, Russia.

"No...", she nodded, looking somewhat exhausted, "I'm tired of this game. I just want to have some answers". All these worries and fears were just too much at this point. She turned to stare at him, "I tell you what I know in return... The name I just spoke.... In that computer file...There was a name there a guy called Victor said to be worried of... I figured it was you...", she gazed into his amazing eyes for a long long while before she pressed on, "Please, you don't have tell me more, but I have a lot of questions regardless. Is this your name? Who is this Victor? What he is to you?".

A big sigh. How irritating. Why couldn't she just go to sleep? Poor bitch didn't even know he was using her for bait.

But she would be dead in 24 hours. What could be the harm?

"Victor is ex-KGB, working as head of the mob here in Russia. Yes, he's absolutely someone you should fear," he remarked in a slightly arrogant tone.

Then added, with a smirk, "But you have me with you! Together, we can't lose!" He laughed.

What his laughter concealed, she might never know, until her last moments. She was a good fuck, he gave her that. He would miss her. Oh well; he'd just have to find some other fetching little piece of meat to screw before sending her to die.

It was cleaner that way. No mess, no bullshit relationship possibilities. Use and toss away. Like a condom! He smirked again, completely guilt-free, at his own thoughts.

"You're probably right. Cutting our losses for the last stop is probably best. Like the way you think," he complimented her, tossing her a bit a bone and ruffling her hair like she was some pet. He would not admit that she had surprised him with her skills, stunning as they were, both mentally and physically thus far; better to leave her in doubt. Women are always so willing to sell themselves short. All a guy had to do was play on her doubts, and he could make her think of herself as half of what she was worth, and she wouldn't even fault him for it. He let another chuckle escape his lips, as his eyes lighted upon her.

"Anatoliy it is," he answered with smug satisfaction before he turned over to get some sleep.

Then his tone turned serious as he murmured, "Get some sleep. We haven't got everything figured out, and I would count on surprises come tomorrow night. You'll need to be alert, otherwise, it might very well be your last." He shut his eyes and pulled the cover around his shoulders with a cruel smile on his lips.

Who knows, she might actually sleep less now. That would make things so much easier...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the morning, she would wake to find him gone, his side of the bed cold and empty from his absence...

************************************************** ********
Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 7:20 PM
Location: Sacred Valley, Interior of Peru

“Yeah… Hi, Lance Navarette. We haven’t met. You said a terrible detour… Where exactly were you going? And what’s this about underground rivers?” It was at this time Lance knelt down and began to search the floor near where Ben searched, hoping to see what he was trying to find.

"Lance, look for any weakness in the floor here.... usually, if there is a cavern, an underground river, there's a steady current of cool air..." Ben was about to explain more when he was interrupted by Stephanie's actions.

“Oh… who is the pretty lady?” She asked out loud, reaching her hand up to brush against the picture, noticing a slight raise when her fingers brushed over the moon. She placed her fingers over the moon image again, to feel the raise again, and a slight raise. She leaned into it, pressing the stone that made the moon, and felt something click into place.

“Uh…. Is it supposed to do this?” Stephanie asked as she hurried back, a slight rumbling filling the room.

"Jesus..." Ben stood up and stepped back, glancing about the chamber. Instinctively he looked towards the doorway, thinking of his own survival first, and everyone else's second. He wasn't about to die in here, or be trapped by some cave-in, because of some damn girl.

Fortunately, the rumble passed, and Guiliana quickly stepped into action, taking charged and issuing commands, "We should see if anything happened to the building here. Why don't you two go check outside?"

The tour was going to be moving on soon, and Guiliana didn't know what would be there when she was able to return. She pulled out her phone and took a couple quick shots of the quipu, the relief of the Goddess, and the stonework.

While she was taking the pictures, the glow caught Ben's attention, and he glanced back at her taking pictures of the relief of the Goddess, the quipu, and the stonework.

"See something you like?" he asked, narrowing his eyes, stepping back into the cave.

He likely caught her by surprise, as she reacted in a manner that resumed her directive to make for the exit: "I suppose we had better get moving, before the bus leaves without us!" She said this cheerily, walking outside and making a determined stride towards the odiferous bus.

"C'mon."

But Ben wasn't done yet. He glanced around the chamber again, and then at Stephanie, and then at Lance.

"How would you two like to make some real money?" He smirked. It was time to leverage the backing of the company he worked for. "Stephanie, whatever you did, it worked. The moon is a significant symbol, but obviously not the whole puzzle. Lance, I think I see a gap where we were looking before. This whole thing must be some kind of secret opening... it must ancient, hundreds of years old. You got a flashlight? Shit... we're going to need rope and supplies. I have some back at the bus. Mind helping me with those, Lance?" He turned back around and faced Guiliana.

"I know you, and I know about the rivalry. You're welcome to come along, but when we find the relic, it's going to Mr. Miller. You're welcome to take pictures." He winked and then stepped outside, calling back, "C'mon, Lance, your paycheck awaits!"

************************************************** *******
DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 7:30-8:00 PM
LOCATION: Memphis, Egypt - Grande Café

She became quiet then, almost reflective before looking up at Thomas Langdon, smiling softly “So you can see now Professor, I must know more about these stones. I must find them. “ She patted his hand then as she finished “But I cannot ask you to go any further with me. I can’t put you into possible danger.”

Professor Langdon frowned and his eyes darkened with thought while he nodded, accepting what she said, and then shaking his head as the idea of it sank in.

"You're having visions?" he said incredulously. "Are you certain these are benevolent manifestations? The god Set was not unlike our Christian Satan--he was capable of taking many forms, of controlling beasts of the earth, particularly the most dangerous ones. He represented the cruelty of the wilderness in Africa, the savage nature of the land itself. It could just as easily be a presence like his that is leading you on this journey, in which case we should not be seeking this artifact."

He looked into her eyes, searching them for answers he wasn't even sure she had.

"If you're set on going, I must go with you--you'll never find what you're looking for without someone of my expertise," he explained, and then muttered as he finished up with his meal and called for the check, "Besides, those ruins... in Nekhen, Upper Egypt, are just as ancient as these, and just as well preserved and guarded. They'll never let you through, no matter what you claim."

He pushed his chair back to get up, and then paused, glancing back at Shiloh, another wave of concern and anxiety washing over his already pained expression: "I have to ask... is anyone else here with you? I saw a... colleague of mine... Dr. Harold Ashton with some people I've never seen here before earlier today. Are you sure nobody else is looking for you, or this? If so, we should leave tonight. I can possibly get us transport by the Nile, but it won't be easy..."

[Koti~]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 7:20 PM
Location: Sacred Valley, Interior of Peru

Stephanie watched the conversation go back and forth between Guilana and Ben, one wanting to leave while the other wanted to stay. Stephanie leaned against the wall and waited until they had finished talking before pushing off the wall.

“I think I will..”

*Go with ben* Evalon spoke up, flooding Stephanie’s mind in an instant. Stephanie, shocked a bit by the answer, fell silent and leaned back against the wall. She her voice trailed off as her mind rang with a questioning presence, trying to make sense of Evalons statement.

*Why, don’t you hate him? And wouldn’t it be better to leave, and not give him more chances to make you angry?* Stephanie finally settled on, looking at the ground while tuning out the rest of the world.

*Listen… do you want to help your friends?* Evalon said, her anger rising up a bit at the word ‘friend’. Stephanie barely noticed the anger at the sheer usage of the word, and the fact that Evalon would be willing to help the people she called friends.

*Okay…seeing as you are dumbstruck, let me explain. As we know, Guilana and Ben seem to have some rivalry between them, and Guilana wants to head out and come back later, though this gives ben time to look around. If we go with ben, we can take anything he finds and give it to Guilana later. As well, we can try to get info from ben, to help her. So… do you want to help your friend?* Evalon pressed on, cementing the idea firm into Stephanie’s mind. Stephanie, still stunned, tried to stall.

*But.. take things from him. Isn’t that stealing?* She thought weakly, cursing herself for liking the idea already, Evalon having poked and wormed at the weak spots in her thinking.

*Nothing in his place belongs to him, so we are not stealing from him. We will make sure to get it before him. And don’t worry; I won’t let him do anything. Now, if you will let me control the body and do as I say, things will go perfect.* Evalon spoke clear and calm, presenting images of Guilana and Lance giving her praise for such a good friend she is.

Stephanie folded at that point, unable to give reasonable arguments for it. With the thought of praise, and the promise of helping friends, her defense against Evalon crumbled, letting her control her body while still in control of the voice.

Stephanie walked over to ben, keeping her eyes on the ground and trying to avoid looking up. Getting close, she entwined her left hand into his right, fingers lacing into place. She then gently wrapped her right hand around just above his elbow, not looking at him once. Despite the oddity of the whole event, Stephanie looked completely calm, if not for a slight blush on her face.

“I think”, Stephanie started, looking up and swallowing some, “I will go with ben, if that is okay?” Stephanie finished, giving an unconscious wink to Guilana while looking a bit sad. Evalon, though, fumed with excitement, eager to see what she could squeeze from this ben, before taking his life.

[Ad Infinitum]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 3:00am
LOCATION: Unknown cavern below Bran Castle, Romania


There was the alkaline odor of mineral water as it ended its slow journey through stone to at last drip-drip-drip into the open blackness. And there were stranger sounds, a whistling. Something shuffled over a gritting surface before a dry crack brought an unsteady pause, as though the world itself held its breath. Soon a metallic click heralded a tiny flame that parted the hateful dark as the Scotsman lit a cigarette, his eyes searching the cavern floor.

There staring back at him were the empty sockets of a human skull.

Gihst stepped back, a startled grunt exiting the snarl that curled around his cigarette; beneath his boot, a snapped rib. He was standing upon the brim of a shallow, natural depression in which the bones of men and animals had been gathered into a mass grave. It reminded him of the Neolithic sacrificial sites that had surfaced all around the UK over the years.

He relaxed and knelt down, examining the knotted skeletons. These bones were old, as thin and brittle as eggshells; old enough that many had been pock-marked by dripping water and partially encased in deposited minerals – this molded the skulls in particular into gnarled, distinctly grotesque forms; deformed life rejected and hidden away. The bones of the larger beasts had been snapped with clean, sharp breaks – a fracture type that was more typical to fresh bone. And with the thought came the echoes of memory:

Gurney, standing at the door, loading red buckshot into his Remington, cursing to himself, ‘Sloppy, damned sloppy.’ Now angrily cocking the slide action, saying, ‘Rorick took a tumble ridin’ aet on Neist Point; he isnae tae worse fer wear, damn bless’d. As fer the horse, lame – naught much left tae give her, save mercy…’ – Horses were at greater risk of breaking bones in a fall, as it was with all larger animals; it was a matter of simple physics, their weight produced an impact that exceeded their strength of bone and even the smallest stumble could prove disastrous.

The strange whistling began again as a small puff of cool air lapped down his nape, and Gihst connected the pieces: These animals had fallen, sacrificed and thrown into the bowels of the earth as though into the hungry maw of a god.

He slid his goggles off, his pale silver eyes flickering to the darkness above him.

There was the opening of a cave chimney overhead, a vertical chute blooming with sunset-hued flowstone sculpted by nature and time. And above the rippling curtains of stone, there was a tunnel opening from which fresh air trickled through with a whistle.

It was no more than a ten foot drop, he estimated. Had this been a sacrificial site of the same ancient peoples whose art decorated the chamber, then their path laid where the sacrifices had fallen from. These people had known about the Bloodstone, their carvings had suggested this; following them could lead them to the stone, or in the least clues to its location.

He checked the tunnel behind him. Yes, he could hear them coming, he reassured himself. It had been hours since he had seen the two Americans; he had left to scout slightly ahead after they had sealed up the brick wall behind them, which at best would serve as an obstacle to buy them time if anyone was indeed trailing Tansy.

So, closing his eyes and breathing in deep, he waited, sweet clove smoke roiling in the breeze from above…
_____________________________________________

Left behind by their new exploring friend, Tansy frowned in the near darkness. The atmosphere had at least been bearable with Gihst around. Now that he had scouted ahead for a few minutes all that was left was Tansy, TJ, and the uncomfortable silence between them.

The girl turned her flashlight to her own hands, casually inspecting her fingernails. Completely black underneath, just as she had expected. Although she had stood back and let the two men fill the wall back in behind them (a ruse, really, as any close inspection would certainly show that the bricks had been disturbed), digging through boxes in the dusty castle above had certainly left her looking dingy. Tansy didn't even want to think of what her hair must look like by now.

And then, there was TJ. The guy she had tricked into coming back to the castle. It was pretty obvious by the annoyed tone in his voice that he didn't expect such an adventure when he had first approached the pretty American girl earlier that day. Or was it the day before by now?

But finally, the oppressing silence was too much for Tansy to stand. "Hey, um..." she began, still searching for the right words as they spilled out of her mouth. "Thanks for staying instead of just leaving me with the creepy guy."

TJ bit his tongue just before he could say something hurtful. His mood hadn't improved, and rebuilding an old brick wall hadn't helped. The quiet shuffle of his footsteps through the ancient tunnels was the only sound he made.

Then he broke the silence, replying to the would-be treasure hunter, "It was the decent thing to do."

Tansy gave him a sideways glance in the darkness. "It was the nice thing to do," she replied firmly. "And I do feel bad for dragging you into all this in the first place.

"I'm sure you think I'm crazy," she continued as they rounded a corner in the tunnel. "But I really do have a strong feeling about this stone thing. I wish I could explain it better."

Tansy shrugged casually, but when she continued her voice was quieter. "Anyway, I am sorry for lying to you about my wallet."

TJ shook his head and let out a small laugh. Tansy hadn't picked up on the backhandedness of his comment.

"Sure," TJ replied with little interest in Tansy's apology, "I'm leaving as soon as we're done here, whether you find your rock or not."

The girl did her best to look hurt, but she realized too late that the effect probably wasn't the same in the darkness. "Yeah, okay. I understand," she replied instead.

Still, she brushed brush his forearm gently with her fingers. If TJ really left, it could be a disaster to Tansy's plans. He was supposed to be her protection from whoever might be following her, and the goggled man seemed convinced that the FBI wasn't finished with her. Plus, Gihst was after the stone, the same as she was. Tansy wasn't about to fight him for the thing, and he was already wise to her wiles. She would feel much better if she had someone else on her side.

One more try, Tansy told herself. "I just want you to know that I really did have a good time with you earlier," she said.

"I'm sure you did," TJ answered with the same amount of interest in what she had to say as his last statement had.

In his mind, though, he admitted he did have fun. His outward demeanor did little to show this though. He wasn't going to let himself get suckered into anymore of Tansy's tricks.

"Let's just find your new treasure hunting buddy and get on with things," TJ said, trying to end the opportunity for more conversation with Tansy.

All sorts of snide comments flew through Tansy's mind, but instead of voicing them, she snapped her mouth shut. The only sound in the tunnel was the scraping of their footsteps for several seconds, until the tiny orange glow of a cigarette came into view.

"Find anything?" the girl asked anxiously as soon as she could make out Gihst's figure in the shadows.

“…watch thy step, beaut’,” The Scotsman warned as he gave a cursory glance to her feet, a slow curtain of smoke licking from his lips. “Bones hae made the floor sharp…” Tansy wore sandals, he noted. She may be crippled if she were to lance a foot upon a bone fragment. He stood, nonchalantly loosening his belt as he watched them. “…y’two hae belts?”

"Mmhmm," Tansy murmured, but her voice came out more as a whimper than a firm reply. She had backed up against the wall, as far away from the bones as possible. It was rather humiliating to show such weak behavior, but it was all Tansy could do to keep the drinks from the nightclub in her stomach when they suddenly wanted to jump up her throat at the gruesome sight.

She worked a brown leather belt from her skirt, brass buckle flashing in the dim light, all the while eyeing the bones as if they would suddenly jump up and bite her. But as she did, her fingers brushed against a scrap of paper in her pocket. As the tail end of her belt slid from its loop, she also pulled out her forgotten, stolen postcard depicting Dracula's gory lunch.

She tossed her blond hair over her shoulders and cleared her throat, determined to keep the quiver from her voice. "I'll bet this is where all these guys came from," Tansy said. She reached out to give the postcard to Gihst, along with her belt. "I do usually make a guy buy me a drink at least before taking this off, you know. What exactly are you doing?"

By that logic I should've had you in the brisk then, TJ thought in his head. He let out a small huff of laughter that sounded more like a cough.

Gihst’s cold silver eyes held her whole as he took the postcard away between two fingers, a wry smirk curling around his cigarette. “…Ah’ll be sure tae extend ye the same courtesy sometime.” He husked, bemused. Then the mirth slowly melted from his countenance as he examined the postcard; in the image, the centerpiece of Vlad Tepes’ crown bore a single red gem. “…maybe so,” He murmured abstractedly. “N’ perhaps auld Vlad hid more than his hobbies daewn ‘ere –” Something glinted in his peripheral vision. And as he turned his rolling gaze to the reflection twinkling in her brass belt buckle, his widening eyes snapped to the light traveling down the tunnel.

TJ looked at his belt and was about to undo the clasp when he too noticed something unusual, there was a harsh glare coming off Tansy's brass buckle. Once TJ was aware of this, he became aware of the light footsteps behind him.

“ – git daewn!” Gihst hissed low between his bared teeth. And as fast as a viper could strike, he snatched Tansy by the wrist and reined her down with him behind the mound of bones.

With a quick and practiced motion, TJ turned and pulled the Colt 1911 from his holster. He held his flashlight in one arm and used it as a brace for his hand holding the pistol, which was now aimed directly at the dim light source in the tunnel. He took a few steps towards the light source to avoid tripping over the scattered bones.

"Hands where I can see them, and identify yourself!" TJ barked with booming force in his voice.
_____________________________________________

This place was creeptastic. Thomas could appreciate the history set into the very foundations of Bran Castle. What he just couldn't understand is why a bunch of idiots stuck around to create history here in the first place. The architect was of the more demented variety and if he lived today he'd be locked up in the hospital that he used to call his workplace. As for those who had ventured down into this tunnel... they were crazy too. What had he done to deserve all this sudden change in his life?

Though Thomas used the light upon the end of his gun he still moved slowly, scanning the walls and floor for potential traps or signs of danger. His eyes flicked back and forth right with it, looking for cubby holes someone could lie in wait and spring upon him by surprise. If he got bit by some vampire wanna be he was going to be pissed. That sort of shit got infected.

Suddenly light blared within his eyes as another figure pointed a flashlight or something straight in his direction. There was no mistaking the command in that tone, the force that could only be managed when you had the business end of a gun aimed right at your target. But Thomas had one of his own and his light was shining right back in that rude bastard's face. He didn't talk his way out of FBI custody just to be killed now.

"F-You buddy!" he shouted in return. Brilliant come back artist, that was Thomas.

TJ almost shot him on the spot. He wasn't in the mood to put up with anymore attitude. The figure did speak English though, and sounded American. He could be FBI, but his shooting posture didn't suggest he'd been trained by the FBI or another agency.

"C'mon over and try, buddy," TJ growled, "You got three seconds to drop that gun."

Gihst sneered, pressing himself against the mound of bones at his back. “…y’great git!” He grated as he cast a seething look at TJ. TJ’s tactless actions had trenched them in problematic situation – exposed, pinned down, and nowhere to go. He reasoned that the unknown gunman had not initially been aware of their presence; he had frozen in place only after TJ had pointed the flashlight and shouted. If everyone had killed the lights and bunkered down behind some cover, there could have been the element of surprise to their favor; but no amount of retrospect could change the past. And now, TJ and this gunman were locked in a dangerous stand-off. He thought, ensuring that Tansy kept her head down.

This Motha fu... – Thomas never finished the thought, he didn't have the patience to do so. Not so long ago having a gun pointed his way might have intimidated him. Hell it probably would have scared the shit out of him but after being at the mercy of Brassier for god knows how long... bullets were candy canes at Christmas. He didn't comply, shining his light into the gunmen's eyes just as much as it was being done to him.

"Listen, Guy, I've had a tough couple of days." Thomas snapped in response. "You want to try and intimidate me, be my guest, but I got no interest in you. The FBI couldn't make me give anything up and you can be damn sure you're not gonna make me give up the only weapon I got."

FBI? Tansy's sat up on her knees with a start. The intruder's (ha, they were all intruders, weren't they?) voice had been tickling at her memories. There was something familiar about it, but the pounding of her heart in her chest refused to let her mind focus enough to decide where she had heard it before.

But the mention of the FBI was all too much of a reminder.

"Tom?" She blurted out, squinting in the darkness in an effort to see the man's face. She wrenched her wrist from Gihst's grip and scrambled to her feet.

"TJ wait! Don't shoot! I know him!" Tansy stepped out from behind the pile of bones that had hid them, still wobbly, still mindful of the grotesque things that littered the ground. But despite the glare of the flashlight and the dark shadows that danced around the cave, she could see clear as day that it was Dr. Fynn who stood in front of them.

It didn't make any sense, she realized, that he would be here, in Romania of all places, in a secret tunnel underneath a castle. But her relief that it wasn't a federal agent after all coupled with the excitement that it was someone she knew made Tansy completely abandon all caution. She pranced forward and threw her arms around the doctor's neck.

She squealed the predictable exclamations of ‘oh my god!’ and ‘I can't believe it!’ over and over until she finally remembered her original companions and pulled away. She let out a nervous laugh before turning back to the others. "Um...this is Dr. Thomas Fynn," Tansy said, indicating the newcomer. Perhaps she should have calmed down and thought about her words before just spilling them out in breathless excitement.

But she realized that too late. "He's the one who had the dream!"

Gihst rose in his own time and came forward smoothly, stopping short of the Colt 1911 without looking at it, coolly looming over TJ. “…ye hae proved thyself a dangerous man,” He said evenly, his tone as bloodless as the hard stare that was locked down on the man.”Nae in combat nor cunning, but through sheer foolishness.” A new note in his voice, and the cold sparks in his eyes flew into his darkness like embers down a cave. “From whit I hae heard, Agents o’ the Federal Bureau often wear bulletproof vests whin in pursuit o’ suspects tha’ hae the possibility o’ being armed n’ dangerous.” Suddenly his countenance snapped into a muted fury, the cutting rasp in his voice more pronounced; it was the first time this man had raised his voice above a murmur. “Tell me. Hae he been an agent, would thy bullets hae stopped him in time afore he filled ye full of lead? Learn the difference ‘tween bravery and stupidity, lad; n’ the next time ye decide tae charge in guns blazing tae forfeit thy own life, do nae jeopardize those ye wish tae protect.” And as nonchalantly as he had approached, Gihst turned away from him, the anger draining from his severe features as he faced Thomas.

“…psychological or medical, Doctor Fynn?” He asked as he adjusted something on his side beneath his long coat.

God had a sense of humor. You think you know how something is going to play out, how a confrontation is going to end and then good ol’ higher being decides to throw you a curve ball. A stand off like the one he and this other gunmen were having normally ended in one or both winding up shot if neither decided to stand down. However this was a strange place full of strange situations. So imagine how surprised Thomas Fynn was to find himself struck not by a hot piece of lead but, rather, by a hot piece of ass instead. So focused was he on the gunmen that the sound of his name on familiar lips hardly registered until Tansy was throwing herself into him. For all his efforts to remain visible tough and forceful he stumbled back with a sharp gasp. The girl was lucky to have not been shot during that sudden rush but as he felt her arms encircle him, heard her excitement that somehow belied her actions back in the hospital when she left him to rot, he couldn’t help but relax a bit. The gun lowered, light moving to the macabre flooring.

“I’m also the guy she left to the feds.” Thomas retorted after the lovely woman mentioned his dream. “But hey who’s pointing fingers? Water under the bridge or whatever they say around here.”

It was odd the way a woman could utterly defuse a potentially lethal situation. It was as if her excitement were infectious and it killed the whole chauvinistic chest puffing he and the other guy had been stewing up. That was probably for the best though for a second man entered the picture. Thomas had been as unaware of that one’s presence as he had been of Tansy’s. Even had he managed to take out the first the second would have had his balls in a literal vice.

“…maybe so,” Gihst said impassively, a subtle warning edging into his tone. Revenge is often a secretive affair, he thought.

Thomas’s arm snaked around Tansy’s waist, holding her to him a moment despite his earlier words. The second man was addressing him now, though it was hard to make out his words through that damnable accent. “Medical mostly,” he replied after sorting out the man’s words. “I have dabbled a bit in psychology but medicine is my practice."

“…good.” Gihst said. Fynn could provide field first aid should anyone come to need it – avoiding a hospital visit would help keep them below the radar. The tip of his tongue appeared to touch the exact center of his upper lip and went back in again, thought churning in his eyes. “…haew the devil did ye gae daewn here?” He asked with a knitted brow, his cutting eyes narrowed carefully down at the man.

Thomas cocked his thumb back over his shoulder, a noncommittal gesture meant to signify his entrance had been somewhere back there. "Found some stairs a ways back." he explained as he held to Tansy's waist. "A couple locked doors to keep people from reaching them but nothing a strong shoulder and determined mind couldn't fix."

TJ watched the other three from a distance. His breathing was shaky as he holstered his pistol and a few small beads of sweat had formed around his brow. When Gihst began his scolding, TJ had hardly heard a word of it. Oddly enough, TJ just laughed at the man as he walked away. He cared very little of the stranger's opinion and felt no need to justify his actions.

The chatting between the other three became more clear as a few more seconds passed for TJ. He also noticed Fynn had no trouble being friendly to the woman that had, to TJ's understanding, sacrificed him to the FBI. He was either a sucker for Tansy's manipulation, or the two were closer than it would seem. TJ just rolled his eyes as he struck Tansy's name of his mental "to-do" list.

Meaning Fynn had created a clear path for pursuers to follow, they had to move –; Gihst paused over a foreboding chill, like awakening to an unfamiliar creak in the dead of the night. How had Fynn escaped the Federal Bureau’s custody? Breaking out was improbable; and Fynn could not have fought his way to freedom with nothing but a pistol to his name. Therefore, the only logical explanation was that the Bureau had set him loose. Being that the case, the Bureau’s motives for this boiled down to two possibilities – either Fynn was being followed, or he had struck a deal and knew damned well he was leading the Feds.

If Fynn was guilty, he could lie or turn violent if exposed openly concerning his possible ulterior motives. And suggesting to leave him behind would only bring questions. If Fynn was deceiving them, the safest option now would be to deceive him in return - feigning ignorance, ensuring that everyone kept moving, and watching him carefully. Beats of silence and Gihst plunged.

"So are we gonna get moving, or are we just going to have a nice little picnic down here?" TJ asked with some edge in his voice.

“…aye, that said, we need tae keep moving.” Gihst stated in indirect agreement with TJ, whom he had otherwise ignored; there was no need to posture or scrap over nonsense when they had bigger problems. “Now, everyone hand o’er thy belts. ” He began, holding out an expecting hand. “…these bones looks akin tae sacrificial site. Odds aer, these bodies were dumped daewn ‘ere from this cavern chimney ‘bove us. Looks like th’work o’ the same people who carved that chamber; ‘ey knew ‘baet the Bloodstone, so, if we follow the path ‘ey left behind, we may find more clues concernin’ the stone’s location…”

Tansy broke her sideways glance at TJ and his attitude to turn back to Thomas. "You heard the man," she said, poking playfully at his belt. "Our friend here has some sort of plan for our accessories, I guess."

She shrugged, but then suddenly realized that Gihst never admitted to what he was doing with the items. "Whatever that may be," she said, throwing a questioning look at the goggled man.

Gihst finished tying together the ends of his belt and the shoulder strap from his messenger bag, tightening the knot with a sharp tug and a snap of the leather. “…simple,” He rumbled around his cigarette, looking up into the yawning mouth of the cavern chimney. “We aer going tae climb it…”

[Kris]

DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 07:15 AM
LOCATION: Unknown Hotel in Moscow, Russia.


It was a terrible morning to wake up to…

Sarina could barely let go of the blanket that covered her naked frame and the moment she lowered her legs to the carpet on the floor, one leg at a time, she felt the cold piercing her body and she shivered terribly in return, Grabbing a hold of the blanket again and wrapping herself with it. She cursed. How could this damn Russian wind invade the place when even the windows were shut tight?!

She stretched her arms and rubbed the socket of her eyes, barely capable of removing the sleeping webs that threaten to take over and force her head against the pillow. She was just so damn tired. All this struggle and stress and lack of proper sleep finally caught up with her, but it was these same forces that prevented her from giving into any further napping, even if she knew she would collapse sooner or later without it. Her role was finally becoming clear as she bitterly admitted of her position; Stuck in a never ending cycle of fear and tiredness. Once giving in to one of these factors it was a game over.

Gah.

Looking down at the other side of the bed she noticed the missing present of Anatoliy, if that was truly his name, but she wasn't too surprised about it because she could swear she felt him moving last night… Not that she thought that he could actually move about and leave after that…. amm…. wild adventure…

Yes… A fitting name it was...

She blushed, feeling like a sober drunkard who was trying to recall the night of her odd deeds from glimpses of memories and flashback, realizing she wasn't much of herself the night before. Well, "Not much of herself" was a bit too gentle to put it… It felt… terribly right… The freedom of morality and sensation must have inebriated her to act completely out of her character…

She rubbed her nape, stretching her neck and shoulders before a smirk escaped her lips. Amilia will never believe her, even if she put her hands on the bible. Then again, maybe she had little to be proud of, because that guy was pretty much the reason it all happened… He just had some kind of a skill…. It was like taking a drug and just giving in to the high feeling that followed it. Not that Sarina had ever tried drugs, but she figured it was probably the only way to explain herself how it all happened.

Humans like her were, to say the least, monsters. Anatoliy was one and other kinds of weird humans possibly possessed other types of gifts, which they were probably choosing to use in a far more frightening and dangerous ways than allowing a maiden to relive her deepest sexual fantasies secrets…

Looking back at the empty side of the bed Sarina sighed. That's what she was to him, just a mean of satisfaction... Well, once she admitted between herself that it wasn't THAT bad, she felt less horrible with herself, but still... She should have known better....

"God. What a headache", She fall back against the pillows stretching all over the bed as she spread her limbs. Yeah, right, as if taking over 'his side of the bed' was some way to punish him... She bit her lips as she provoked her inner anger and guilt.

You don't do it. You just don't. You don't spend a night with someone and then leave that person alone in bed. It felt so cheap. Almost like she was a whore or something.

Gah.

She slowly got up again, turning her head here and there, letting her black hair to sway freely as she tried to shake herself back into reality; The only good thing coming out of this was the fact that he wasn't here. As ironic as it was, considering what she just complained about, at least he made himself useful and let her be. She needed that time to think anyway and he sure wasn't helping with his confident announcement of promising to be with her. She was naïve, silly, maybe somewhat childish, but she was not a fool; Even the night before, while he still comforted and stroked her in a dalliance manner she couldn't rid the hunch that there was a terrible warning below the surface that he was trying so hard to hide. Well, her worry did bound well with the fact he kept telling her that he was going to use her until there was nothing left and now, finally free from his present she was capable of seeing the early seeds of his plans.

She decided not giving in to bad emotions and just accept all that happened as enriching experience, just like everything else in her life, another event from which she hoped to grow stronger than ever. Besides, it wasn't like she hadn't face death before… all too close to be honest… If she met with him again in the future, she might be forced to endure another such thrill... But this time she hoped to be ready... After all... She smiled softly... Now…. It was all too easy to just… 'Delete' emotions and unwanted feelings...

...

Whoa…

Where was this attitude coming from?

Okay, maybe she WAS still a bit cranky...

Nothing a coffee can't solve though...


***

DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 08:30 AM
LOCATION: Unknown Hotel in Moscow, Russia. Dining room.


After a quick 2 minutes bath she descended into the great hall not before packing all of her things and taking her bag with her. Maybe it was just the over paranoia that took over her, but she wanted to make sure all of her staff were with her at all times; Anatoliy just left without giving her any further leads, so the only person she could rely on was herself. She didn't know when she was going to need to make a run for, so, it was for the better that all of her accessories were with her.

While eating in the dining room she checked her laptop which, aside of some scratches and a little crack on the screen, suffered no serious damage from being thrown over, looking for information on the trains her file suggested. She learned that despite their numbers they were pretty much close stations. Actually the only one which was a bit further away, was metro 6 while 26 and 43 were rather close.

"So... suppose the bastard will head to metro 6...", she whispered to herself, thinking it was rather obvious that he was the stubborn type to go with what he had to begin with, "and I go to 26... I can win as long as the star is found in 26 or 43...", her eyes grew wider, "But... what if he came to 26 as I suggested?... and suppose it was indeed in 26 or 43...", she bit her lips, "If it was so easy for him to just get up and leave me what would prevent him from using me as a shield?...".

She considered all this while trying to memorize the map of the metro's locations and their departed times. Easy task for her. She closed her laptop, shoving it into her bag again. It was all too early to try and do something else, but she decided to return to her room for now. Why, was beyond her. She didn't even want to meet Anatoliy if he returned there.

Maybe she hoped to get some more sleep...


***

DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 10:00 AM
LOCATION: Unknown Hotel in Moscow, Russia.


The door was open and some men were picking through all over the place. Shivering, Sarina tried to ignore the scene by dropping her gaze to the ground and walking quickly further away from where her room was into a side corridor without making any eye contact with those men. Better they didn't know this room was hers, or that she had anything to do with it.

Could those guys be Victor's?

"He was here... Or at least he was supposed to be here...", said one of them.

Sarina peeked carefully from behind a wall, spotting three tall men, two of which had light blond hair and one had light brown. They all had the same hair style which was short and tidy. All had blue eyes.

The guy who was the first to speak lit up a cigar, "I heard he brought a foreigner girl with him...".

"That little piece of shit, fucks anything...", spitted the brown haired guy, a look of anger all over his face, "I don't give a fuck about some whore... Where's Anatoliy?"

The first guy inhaled his cigar and blew a perfect circle of gray smoke, "The woman at the reception said that our guy in question hadn't signed off... Speaking of which, neither did the girl..."

"So... are they still here?", asked the third man as he looked over his shoulder, hoping that somehow Anatoliy was there. Sarina quickly hid herself as she turned to lean against the wall, hoping no one saw her.

"I don't think so", said the first, throwing his cigar and squashing it under his dark boot, "Better tell Victor he has his "Dancer" to deal with, beside Tony...".

"Let's go".

"Just one moment...".

Sarina heard steps coming for her direction. Terror paralyzed her and she pushed herself against the wall, feeling her nails grazing the stones as she was trying to think of any possible prayer that will get her out of this when...

"What is it, Slava?"

The steps halted and Sarina felt her heart pounding faster and faster.

"Probably nothing... let's go...".

She waited until she was sure they were gone... And then she just dashed outside.


***

DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 11:00 AM
LOCATION: Random public Telephone booth in Moscow, Russia.


Six years ago she woke up in a room, alive. She got a number and was welcomed back to life with a smile of an elderly man, as tubes and other machines were beside her.

Now, when the ring was turning tighter around her neck she realized it was time to make a phone call...

She waited as she dialed. Nothing like the annoying waiting music provided by Syber-Netix corporation hot lines. Which was rather absurd, because after they were relocated on the island by orders from higher ups, Sarina didn't think anyone would actually bother to call. And yet it appeared they were busy.

"Syber-Netix corporation, Lisa speaking, how may I assist?".

Sarina hoped the woman who answered won't turned out to be god's way to get back on her on how she handled Section G's customers service, "Amm... Lisa... This... This isn't a regular call...", Sarina tried to utter her request.

The woman's happy tune of voice didn't change, "Oh?".

"Please direct me to the... Clinic...".

"I'm sorry, I cannot do that. You'll have to come by personally to-!"

"Code No. Beta 6690543", Sarina snapped into the phone.

There was a moment of silence before the woman added, "hang on", and the 'hold' music was played again.

"Hello, hello?!", a male's voice answered from the receiver; a voice which Sarina had no trouble indentifying, "Dr. Frederick Oswald...", Sarina uttered slowly, "Amm... It's me... amm... Sarina Gohar... if you remember-!"

Loud laughter disturbed her from speaking further, "Ain't that a small world we livin' in? Just told Lisa today about the 'Codes' should any of your types try and call us... or so... How you doin' dear?"

"Could be better... What do you mean by 'should call'?!", Sarina asked worried.

"Well, you know how it is with newly implanted parts... Not many survive... 'The Codes'... which you were part of, were pretty much the first to hit the road with the multisession Nanotechnology on more levels than just a single body part transplantation. Most people that had participated in this planting experiment six years ago were pretty much done for to begin with. I believe only you and seven others made it alive and even less than that survived the first two years before passing away... Say, come to think of it, did you... by any chance... like... felt some kind of... changes about you recently...?"

Sarina's eyes widen up and she was glad the doctor couldn't see her face, "No", it was so much easier to lie when no one could see your reaction or clearly figure more from your voice's tune because of bad connection.

"I see... so... six years, huh?", he chuckled, "I heard you moved to the island, I was sure you would pass by for some... checkup..."

Sarina narrowed her eyebrows, clearly not amused with this joke, "I just thought it will be easier for me to get treatment should I need one... Luckily I'm fine... so I don't need your help yet...and!! Hold on a second, who told you I moved to the island?!"

"Those who need to know, know... We do like to monitor our mass productions, especially since your line had great faults... so, you plan to come over I see, when?"

Sarina could almost feel the smile of the elderly doctor. Not that he ever hurt her or anything, she just... well... hated his sense of humor... There was just something very gross about the way he was speaking too... always going into details even when it was WAY too much...

"What's that playing in the background...?", Sarina tired to change the subject as a low echo of sharp horn was played with spooky style of melody. It took her but few moments before she was capable of understanding the musical tunes and cross it with the data available in her brain of this music.

She knew the answer but just wanted to be sure.

"Der Ring des Nibelungen...", answered Dr. Frederick Oswald, His voice pronouncing the right German's accent of the words so perfectly.

"The Ring of the Nibelung...." Sarina said slowly as the melody increased, "Wagner...". Back some years ago the composer was still considered associated with the Nazi Party. Even when it was easier to accept hearing his music in her country nowadays she still felt very uncomfortable talking to someone who appeared to be into this music. No matter how epic it was.

"Now hold on, just a second...", Dr. Frederick Oswald understood her silence all too late, remembering who she was and where she was coming from as he tried to find some excuse.

"It's the part where Siegfried, disguised as Gunther head for Brynhild's lair... Forsaking and forgetting his promise to her as he sets off to conquer her for another man, just so he could get rights on something else...", Sarina took a deep breath, "Forcing himself on her, or more to say, bounding her to his wills. Once under a man's regime, she is no longer a goddess but a mere shadow of beauty...."

The music increased, echoing with violins, Tuba, drums... and more musical tools Sarina couldn't recognize before their solo parts were over. The sensation was clear, however; War. Battle between strong forces that wished to combine not as strongly as master/slave... but in harmony, together with trust...

The pain of the maiden and her broken heart against the aggressive lover that promised to return to her, but now wishing to use her for his own gain... and yet, as absurd as it seems, the stronger the effort one side stroke against the other, the terrible was the storm of the other. It was as if this awakening of power was alluring by itself. One could feel himself drawn rather to the war and the high of beat, rather to the clam, tranquil rhythm...

More and more... Higher and higher... gashing and fighting... hurting and mending with fire... But the tune was so stirring and delightful... even within these terrible emotions...

"You there?", Frederick's voice asked from the other side and Sarina blushed terribly, realizing that she had once again carried away in her thoughts, "yes", she coughed.

"Well, yeah... I'm a bit into... classic..."

Sarina smirked. It was a good excuse. Still... Why Wagner of all the good possible composers? Maybe there something about how ravishing the early works of Wagner were compared to the others or the fact that the play itself had many elements of terror.... Turned out this doctor had more love for blood than she gave him credit for, "She avenged her purity...", Sarina smiled while holding the handset as close as she could to her lips.

"Yes she did, but Brynhild could only do so while getting a bit... "dirty"... Only with vile methods she could win... And was the result worth it? The winning was painful still...".

Sarina was taken aback by the doctor's knowledge. Still, she decided not to lose ground, "Siegfried died".

"Was she truly happy with it? I mean... She willingly followed him in death... Remember, dear... Once a woman starts to fight for herself all the rules of the war take place as well... The men's honor is now hers... The men's pride is now hers...", he took a deep breath allowing his cheerful flirt tune to return, "Again, I'm not sure if a delicate flower such as yourself should try and fight something big you know... Just saying..."

Sarina rolled her eyes, "Whatever, anyway, how many in the company know about me?"

"Mostly those that should or were forced to. Six years is a long while in technology's duration of time... So sugar, when do you plan to visit me?"

"I don't!"

"Wha-?!"

Sarina hanged the phone a bit too forcibly. She stepped outside the telephone's booth, digging her hands in the pockets of her pants as she walked, thinking of where to head off next. She cursed herself for thinking of turning to Syber-Netix's for help... It felt even... nasty... that she decided to turn to the people she hated just to save her own skin.

It was a foolish mistake, better to keep fighting and plan wisely...

[Mysteria]

DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 8:30 PM
LOCATION: Memphis, Egypt - Grande Café

"You're having visions?" he said incredulously. "Are you certain these are benevolent manifestations? The god Set was not unlike our Christian Satan--he was capable of taking many forms, of controlling beasts of the earth, particularly the most dangerous ones. He represented the cruelty of the wilderness in Africa, the savage nature of the land itself. It could just as easily be a presence like his that is leading you on this journey, in which case we should not be seeking this artifact."

Thomas Langdon's questioning gaze was filled with genuine concern as he spoke. Shiloh remembered reading about Set along with several documentaries that she’d watched related to Set and understood the Professors reasoning but as he spoke in her mind all she could see was the golden glow that surrounded Micah, the beautiful angelic face, the soft voice that was filled with love and kindness. Maybe the professor was correct but it was a risk Shiloh felt she had to take. The idea of the Professor being drug into her journey, even if he was a willing participant, didn’t set well with her. Shiloh said nothing, but listened as she weighed her options. She could try slipping away and doing this on her own to keep him from harms way, but he was correct. She needed him and his knowledge.

If she were truly being led on a mission of good then she had to have faith that the professor would be kept safe too. Faith…belief..Micah had told her to all she had to do was believe. And her parents had been firm believers and had tried hard to show her the way. She had lost her faith. She didn’t know how to believe after they had been killed but now that was exactly what Shiloh intended to do and she would suffer the consequences later if she were wrong. As might also the Professor. Shiloh looked into the blue-gray eyes of Professor Langdon, her hand covering his as she smiled at him “This could become dangerous Thomas, and although I don’t want to put you in harm’s way I can see that your mind is already made up so yes, I will travel with you. I do need your assistance and it will be great having time to catch up again even under these circumstances”

Shiloh arose when the professor arose, taking his arm as they walked out, and his last question taking her by surprise. “Why no, there is no one but Isaac.” She replied “ We traveled alone, and no one knew that we were coming to Egypt, only that we would be traveling for awhile, but if you even remotely think those people are involved, we should get going tonight.” Shiloh’s grip tightened on the professor’s arm at the mention of Isaac. How could she ever explain having to leave suddenly like this? Would he ever forgive her?

Shiloh was lost to her thoughts as they traveled back to the site, answering the professor when spoken to but making little conversation herself and noting that he’d like to leave in a few hours.

Exiting the car that had returned them to the site Shiloh walked beside the professor, clinging to his arm as she had done when they left the café only now feeling slightly like a lost frightened child but knowing full well that she was no longer the little girl that Professor Langdon had known all of those years ago. She was all grown up now and for some reason that she would probably never understand, had been thrown into a situation that she felt she no longer had a choice in. She felt obligation to do what had to be done. Those stones had to fall into the hands of good. And Shiloh, she had to be strong. She had to believe, but it didn’t keep her from trembling at the very thought. Stopping in front of the door to her small hut Shiloh turned, offering the professor a smile. “Thank you Professor. I’ll be ready when it’s time.”

The truth was that she was as ready as she would ever be.

[RisingPhoenix]

Date: August 21st, 2042
Time: 12:30 AM
Location: Cachora, Peru

As father Francis walked away from the bus, his items in tow, Nicolai followed behind toting his bags with relative ease. He wasn't sure where exactly they were headed, but Nicolai was ready. It was then that Father Francis began to speak about finding shelter for the night. Nicolai had no objections to finding shelter and ultimately getting some much needed sleep. He listened to Father Francis speak in fluent Spanish and was able to understand every word he spoke. It was weird because Nicolai wasn't really an expert at speaking and understanding foreign languages. Could this be the results of his other half? He was unsure if this sudden broadening of his language spectrum had something to do with the strange things that had been happening to him lately.

Still following Father Francis, and very much in dep thought, Nicolai decided it best not to reveal his new found ability to speak and decipher a language he did not know. The priest came to him informing him of the situation. Of course Nicolai didn't mind sleeping in such inadequate provisions, he had seen worse, but he was fairly certain that the priest would have quite the time reading the tome in such a dimly lit place with absolutely no electricity at their disposal. With a sigh, Nicolai continued to follow the priest giving a soft nod as they entered their temporary shelter. He watched the priest quitely but said nothing when the priest cursed.

"Here father," Nicolai stated as he retrieved two battery powered lamps from his bag. He turned them both on which illuminated the area with ease.

He continued to watch Father Francis read the tome, and divulge bits and pieces of information o Nicolai even though Nicolai was doing his own research. Flipping through the various texts he had brought with him. He gave the priest a nod each time the man released infomation that Nicolai was certain to be confidential. All through the night he listened and read until he finally fell asleep with a book in his hand. Father Francis was already awake when he sat up in the makeshift bed. He quickly gathered his things and prepared himself for the trip to Machu Pichu. When Father Francis had collected all of his belonging an Nicolai had also, they proceeded to search for transportation. Eventualy they found a donkey salesman who sold them very healthy and strong donkey. Nicolai smiled and mounted the beast as did Father Francis.

Date: August 21st, 2042
Time: 2:00 PM
Location: Machu Pichu, Peru

The trip to Machu Pichu was rather long, yet beautiful. The scenary was extremely mind blowing. Such scenary seemed to have come directly out of a magazine. With no words spoken along the jourey, the trip seemed to have taken longer than previously divulged by their guide, however upon arrival at Machu Pichu, Nicolai quickly dismounted his donkey and looked at the beautiful scene before him.

"Such beauty in such a place as this."

[~N~]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 7:20 PM
Location: Sacred Valley, Interior of Peru

“I think”, Stephanie started, looking up and swallowing some, “I will go with Ben, if that is okay?” Stephanie finished, giving an unconscious wink to Guiliana while looking a bit sad. Evalon, though, fumed with excitement, eager to see what she could squeeze from this Ben, before taking his life.

Ben smiled with pride and squeezed her hand, looking to Stephanie and then to Lance and Guiliana with a smug smile.

"Well, at she's made up her mind! What about you two?"

************************************************** *******

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 3:30am
LOCATION: Bucharest, Romania

The watch tracker idly blinked on the screen for the better part of an hour. Just sitting there. No movement. Blink. Blink. Blink.

Garrus rubbed his chin, watching it with tired eyes that made the whole dark world blurry; made it seem like the dot was moving, but it wasn't. Not when he roused himself each time to make sure it hadn't. Disappointing. He took another sip of his lukewarm coffee.

And then he tilted his head. It hadn't moved. Blink. Blink. It hadn't moved...

Was he just sitting there? Sandler was there. Were they sitting together? Surely not. Dr. Fynn didn't want anything to do with the FBI since Brassier laid into them.

Maybe it was time to give that phone a call...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The phone rang noisily, as only a cellphone can, buzzing and chiming its little irritating ringtone right out of that one Jurassic Park movie...

Doodeedeedoodlydeedeedoo;
Doodeedeedoodlydeedeedoo;
Doodeedeedoodlydeedeedoo.

Nothing.

You better pick up, you son of a bitch, or we'll be on your ass faster than you can spit.

Doodeedeedoodlydeedeedoo;
Doodeedeedoodlydeedeedoo;
Doodeedeedoodlydeedee...

"Hello?" came a groggy, cracking voice on the other end.

"Dr. Fynn?" Garrus shot back. "Is that you?"

"Wha--?"

"Dr. Thomas Fynn, this is Agent Garrus. We've had you sitting at Bran Castle now for an hour. What are you doing?"

"Wha.... heeey! Garrus! God... my head hurts..."

"Sandler?!"

"Yeah, man. God..."

"Where the fuck is Dr. Fynn?!"

"Whacked me I think. Damn it. I've been out," Sandler replied, rubbing his head, trying to shake himself back into clarity.

"Where is he?!"

"I don't know, Garrus! God, I just woke up in this truck!" Sandler replied with a bit of irritation.

"YOU'RE HOLDING HIS PHONE."

A moment of silent realization.

"Shit."

"I'm telling the boss and then I'm going to get out there. Damn it, Sandler..."

"No! Wait! Garrus!" Sandler pleaded. But Garrus was already gone. Agent Sandler helplessly glanced at the screen of the phone, now dimming out.

"Shit."

************************************************** ******
DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 10:00 AM
LOCATION: Unknown Underground Lair, Moscow, Russia.

Sammy slumped in the corner, his face a blood-encrusted mess.

"Have you got it?" Victor addressed the man arriving without looking up.

Boris nodded while he approached with a thick frown. "Not yet, but it should be gotten within a few hours."

"Beneath 43, yes?"

"Yes. Nobody would think to look for it there. It's not even that old, compared to the others--was an extension on the line..." Boris explained, lighting up a cigar and puffing on it immediately.

Victor glanced over at Sammy who was dangerously unconscious. He was beaten so badly he might never wake up. It was of no consequence to Victor.

"Victor, I bring word," another fit, hard man announced, approaching from the shadowy hallway leading to the room.

"Yuri! What are you doing here?! You'll bring unwanted attention to my operation from the police!"

"They won't miss me."

"You risk too much, goddamn it."

"Victor! They won't miss me. Besides, half of them don't care if you take control of everything. They support you regardless," Yuri explained with a smile.

Victor was not pleased, and he demonstrated it by slamming his fist so hard down onto the table that it shook and sent tremors through the half-dozen men in the room, causing some of them to jump uncontrollably.

"Goddamn it Yuri Vankovich! I told you to remain at the station!"

"Victor, relax. I bring word: Tony's rounded up all the scum in Moscow against you. I've already issued orders to have some of them picked up and detained," he explained. "See? I help you out!"

The ex-KGB leader glared at him with eyes as piercing as ice picks.

"Don't fuck around with me, Yuri. Do they know?"

"Nooo," Yuri assured him. "Most of them anyways...."

"WHO KNOWS?!" Victor roared, rising suddenly to his feet and personifying terror itself to his comrades.

Yuri shuddered at this and made a reply, "Victor, hell, I hadn't heard myself till just an hour ago. We think some files may have been stolen. Maybe some got leaked." He shrugged helplessly, his eyes betraying his fear to his angry leader.

"Some may have gotten LEAKED?!"

"Yeah, yeah... you know... the police force... it's like a leaky ship.... there are leaks!" Yuri cowered.

"FUCK!" Slam. "WHO KNOWS?!"

"Anatoliy. Maybe. I dunno. Chekhov. Maybe."

"And? Have you... taken care of them, Yuri?" Victor leaned in, his eyes blazing with the kind of icy hatred that burns the soul.

"Victor... I've tried..." Yuri squirmed, "I've tried, I have. I'm still trying. Anatoliy... he's nowhere to be found. We ransacked his place. Got everything we could. Chekhov... we think we got him. My men were following him."

"DAMN IT," Victor cursed again, his frame shaking with pent-up rage as he slammed the table fiercely again. It would not endure much more of this.

"Yuri. You will make sure NO ONE finds out about this. Keep your people away from Station 43. I will deal with Anatoliy if he shows up."

A few long moments of silence passed, where all the eyes of the room were on Yuri. When they went back to what they were doing, he took the opportunity to speak again.


"What about Tony?" Yuri meekly inquired. Victor's eyes cut right back to him again.

"What about him?"

"He might know."

"FUCK!" He whipped out a handgun faster than the eye could follow and had its cold metal barrel pressed to Yuri Vankovich's shivering head. "You... make sure no one else knows anything... and I will deal with Tony if he shows his fat, ugly face. Understood? If you fuck this up, Yuri, I will end you. Personally. Understood?"

"Y-y-yes, boss. Yes. I know. I understand. I'm sorry," the cowering recipient of Victor's wrath stammered.

"Don't be fucking sorry, Yuri. Just do what I fucking ask. Understand?"

"Yes. Yes. Yes, Victor. I will do what you ask."

"DO IT, THEN. GO."

Yuri needed no encouragement. He was out the door much quicker and lesser than when he came.

When he was gone, Victor turned to Boris. "If Tony shows, you make sure you can handle him, Boris. Bring who you need."

"I will break him, like I broke his little bitch friend here," Boris replied, glancing at the unconscious Sammy. "It will not be pretty."

Victor smiled a cold thin smile that would chill the heart of an assassin. "Good. I'm counting on you, Boris."

************************************************** *******
DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 11:30 PM
LOCATION: Cairo, Egypt - Shiloh's Room

An lean, small Egyptian with a dark beard about his face knocked on Shiloh's door. When she answered, she did not and would not recognize him.

"Miss Shiloh Thompson? I am to give you this and tell you that you must come with me down to the docks," he said quickly, his eyes shifting a bit. He handed her a folded up note.

When Shiloh opened it, it read as follows:


This man's name is Asyed.
He will bring you to a place on the docks where I have used some funds to secure transportation down-river.
A night cruise upon the Nile.
~Langdon

Asyed would wait for her and then bring her to where Langdon was waiting. The vessel commissioned more like a small ferry. It was ornamental, with lights and plenty of room, even a smaller upper deck where the breeze of the Nile passed through the ship and over it pleasantly. The professor was standing there, waiting for her arrival, and then with a smile, he approached her, and spoke softly with a warm smile: "You look nice tonight. I hope you've dressed comfortably enough. It will be a long journey to where we're going. I told the captain that we needed to proceed far down the river to Nekhen, and he agreed after I... provided some monetary compensation for his trouble. He said that he could cover it as a special tour into Upper Egypt, and that with his compensation, he could cover the additional miles and time with his boss."

"I reserved us a place on the upper deck," he added, before turning and leading her across the planked dock to the ferry boarding platform, handing the two tickets to the attendant there, who ripped them in half and gave Professor Langdon back his two stubs.

"The journey will give me time to tell you a bit about what we face when we get to Nekhen..." He looked into her eyes and smiled, proceeding then onto the ferry.

************************************************** *******
DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 1 PM
LOCATION: The Azores, Terceira Island, a Caldera

"Already all the stars of the other pole
The night beheld, and ours so very low
It did not rise above the ocean floor.

Five times rekindled and as many quenched
Had been the splendour underneath the moon,
Since we had entered into the deep pass,

When there appeared to us a mountain, dim
From distance, and it seemed to me so high
As I had never any one beheld.

Joyful were we, and soon it turned to weeping;
For out of the new land a whirlwind rose,
And smote upon the fore part of the ship.

Three times it made her whirl with all the waters,
At the fourth time it made the stern uplift,
And the prow downward go, as pleased Another,

Until the sea above us closed again." ~ Dante, The Inferno, Canto XXVI

The shadowy figure moved through the green paths of the forest foliage, traversing the steep, winding serpent slopes back and forth higher upon the acclivity through dense undergrowth and beneath thick jungle canopy. Nothing deterred him with each step he took, crashing through the plants and fauna that stood in his way, crushing worms, bugs, and swatting flying insects that, disturbed by his presence, roused themselves and irritated him. But he would not falter. He climbed, despite the weariness that swam through his leaden limbs, bearing down his mortal frame like sinking lead. His appearance was more ragged; one akin to that of a shipwreck survivor--and true in that regard!--but it did not reveal all about him.

Just as the crater did not reveal that which it kept in its depths. When he crested the summit, he peered down through an opening in the trees. Down into the crater itself, which must've been easily two miles across. A small encampment of natives and archaeologists had set up camp there, at its bottom, around a kind of entrance into the northern wall of the crater. And around its bowl-shaped sides, paths ran in concentric rings, with little crooked pathways here and there, leading from one down to the next. To get to the center would mean at least another two hours of walking. Jeremy looked long at the camp, at the entrance it guarded and narrowed his eyes.

It was there. He knew it. He could hear her voice echoing in his mind. It was there.

He proceeded down the paths, walking the rings, passing the native souls who glanced at him only in disinterested fashion. They were busy with their own toils. One more ragged man in dark clothing would not impress them. He was but a shadow among shadows, making his way into the heart of the pit...

Round... and round... and round... further, and further down...

The shadows of the day went long, and slid over the crater paths, lending their winged darkness to the grasping limbs of the trees and flitting wildlife that enacting their daily ritual pursuits, savagery beneath a canopy that concealed all beneath the trees.

At long last, upon weary steps, Jeremy emerged from the vines and paths to the encampment. As he approached the cavern entrance, he saw that it had ancient inscriptions carved into the stone archway that framed its opening all the way around. These inscriptions were in an ancient tongue, carved long before the civilizations of men who inhabited the islands now arrived. His eyes traced over the lettering with glimmers of fascination and unspoken understanding.

"Excuse me, may I ask what you're doing here?" came the voice of young women in glasses and rugged work-clothes. Her tone was sharp and formal.

Jeremy ignored her.

"I said, 'excuse me'," she repeated, getting closer... getting in his face.

His eyes shifted to her.

"May I ask what you're doing here?" she repeated her inquiry with her hands on her hips, "And who you are?"

He thought about killing her right here, right now. But it would be too much... too much attention... too much mess. There was already the mess on that beach....

"I think I know the inscription on that cave entrance..." he answered.

"I highly doubt that. We've been studying it for six months. Haven't found a match. Now I'm going to have to ask you to leave..."

"It's Proto-Indo-European.... the language of Babel..."

"What?!" she asked glaring at him with astonishment and incredulity.

"... made before the time of Man... but taught to him. 'Promethian' even."

"How...?!"

"Proceed into the Darkness that Was, before Creation's Light... where Chaos and Night hold Court over the Elements..." he intoned, as if the voice was distant even from his own.

The woman's mouth was decidedly earthbound. She glanced back at the inscription in the orange light of the setting sun. Then back at Jeremy.

"Who the hell are you?!"

[Anne Bonny]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 3:45am
LOCATION: Unknown cavern below Bran Castle, Romania

While Gihst busied himself over their belts and TJ was looking less than pleased with her, Tansy took the opportunity to have a few words with Thomas. She looked up at him with wonder, trying to decide which of the thousands of questions crowding her mind would be the best to ask first. Her stomach still churned from the ghastly bones on the floor along with some anxiety that Tom was so quick to bring up the fact that she left him back in the hospital. But he said there were no hard feelings. And if she was going to judge by the natural way he wrapped his arm around her waist to keep her close, Tansy should be in the clear as far as that little incident was concerned.

But it would be a damn foolish thing for Thomas to travel to Romania and track her down in a spooky old castle just to tell her he forgave her. The doctor didn't seem like a stalker to her, so there must be another reason for his appearance.

"Okay, so really Tom. I know you must have missed me," Tansy began with one of her most winning smiles, "but what are you doing here?"

Thomas turned his gaze down to her, wresting his attention from Ghist while he worked at forming their belts into a makeshift rope. Their eyes met in the darkness. He knew she was trying to distract herself form the macabre sight surrounding them and couldn't blame her. The idea of walking on ancient human remains was damn creepy.

"I didn't have much choice, really." he answered with a slight shrug that was difficult to see in the dark. "Airport Security cameras snagged your picture and the FBI clung to your tail like glue. I was dragged along so Agent Brassier could get his kicks in interrogating me while they hunted you."

"Oh." Tansy's smile faltered. Well, there went the hope that she was just being paranoid about the whole FBI thing. It sounded even worse than her fears the way Thomas put it. Hunted. Like she was some kind of animal. The girl paled in the darkness.

"Well that doesn't make much sense," she finally blurted. "Why would they be chasing me? As far as the FBI is concerned, all I did was sneak into a hospital room, right? Following me to Romania seems a little excessive, don't you think?"

"Snuck into a top secret government facility that is far more than the hospital it appears, to be exact." came his reply. "That's more or less how he described it to me?"

He turned to face her, staring down toward her face in the darkness. He could sense her weariness, her unease and she was wise to be so affected by such attention. "I don't know much of what they've been doing. Since You left the hospital, which I still don't know how you managed that by the way, I've been chained up and locked away."

Her escape was something she would much rather leave a mystery, but fortunately Thomas hadn't asked directly about the subject. And, Tansy mused with some satisfaction, he left a perfect opening for her to avoid it completely.

"Oh god, Tom!" she cried, stepping even closer to the man and moving to grip his forarms in concern. "They didn't hurt you, did they?"

If she was trying to seem the caring sort who saw him as someone who mattered her act was a little late in coming. Still Thomas found the smile that brightened his features was a true one rather than a false mask. She hadn't explained the details of her escape but that was to be expected. This wouldn't be so fun if she revealed everything without resistance.

"Nothing wounded but my pride." he willingly responded. "I talked my way out anyway, as you can obviously see."

"Talked your way out?" she repeated. Tansy drew her lower lip between her teeth. If it was that easy to get away from them, maybe these agents weren't much to be afraid of after all.

Her right hand dropped lower to hold Tom's, and when she spoke again, Tansy's voice was quieter, as if sharing a secret with a confidant. "Well, we will still have to watch our backs, won't we? As for these two..." The girl waved her free hand towards her other companions. "TJ is the one with the gun. We got along fine until just recently. It seems his opinion of me has a lot to do with whether or not he thinks he's getting laid. So with you here, we'll have to find another reason for him to stick around."

An eyebrow arched upward as she met Thomas' eyes again. "Because I do want him to stick around," she insisted. "He's lived in this country for a while, and he can help protect us if he's on our side."

Tansy paused, considering the scruffier man of the bunch. "The other we've only just met. I don't know what to make of him yet. But he says he's had dreams of the Bloodstone too, and he seems to think we're getting closer."

Tom's attention shifted to each of the men in turn as Tansy described them. The corner of his mouth quirked slightly at her description of the gun toter. No doubt she had plenty to do with the man's ideas about getting laid. To say the woman was promiscuous was as big an understatement as simply stating the ocean was deep. Still it didn’t pay to throw a fit over the matter. Then again maybe he was saying that because he’d already had a taste of the treat that is Tansy.

The other man, the one with the thick accent that was terribly difficult to completely understand, was definitely an oddity. Thomas had plenty of experience with dealing with people. Working in a hospital exposed you to all manner of personalities and he was rather talented at getting a bead on someone. This Gihst, however, was impossible to read. That might be due to Thomas’s completely inability to actually understand what the guy was saying but who knows. He was interesting at least. That he also dreamed of the Bloodstone gave them something in common at least. Maybe he understood it a bit more.

“How did you manage to track it here?”

"That patient we went to see in the hospital gave me a clue," Tansy replied, her voice returning to its normal volume. "The rest was just dumb luck and meeting the right people."

She shrugged and ran a hand through her blond hair, which was a mess of tangles. A thought fluttered through her mind of how embarrassing it was to be found by that handsome doctor in such a state.

But no point in dwelling on that at the moment. Besides, what would he have expected her to look like in a cave full of bones? "Speaking of," Tansy said with a sudden thought, "How the hell did you find us? Once you 'talked your way' out of custody, why'd you decide to crawl beneath a castle in the middle of the night?"

“I followed the Federal Agent who came here.” Thomas replied as if that should explain the mater entirely. He didn’t want to go into how he talked the FBI into letting him go. Even if all that he claimed had been a lie there was still that chance someone might take it personal. Like the blond woman standing before him for example.

“Good thing I did too. He seemed to believe you were here after discovering signs of your passing. I don’t know if he intended to call it in or what but I knocked him out before he got the chance to do anything else. “ His hand shifted, calling attention to that dark pistol with the attached flashlight with a confident smile. “Where'd you think I got the gun?"

"There was an agent here?" Tansy exclaimed. "How did he track me? How...". She trailed off, her blue eyes searching the darkness of the tunnels, half expecting anger agent to jump out of the shadows. This was much worse than she had originally thought. It was one thing for the FBI to be looking for you, but quite another for them to be breathing down your neck.

On sudden impulse she released Tom's hand and turned back to the others. "I don't mean to be a nag," Tansy said, doing her best to keep down the panic that was welling up within her chest. "But we really, really need to get a move on, boys."

(Anne and Prophet made this!)

[Kris]

DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 17:45 PM
LOCATION: Traveling between stations, Now near metro 26 and metro 43, Moscow, Russia.


Sarina spent the early morning and late noon lurking and studying the three places that were mentioned in the file.

http://www.asergeev.com/pictures/archives/2009/768/jpeg/19.jpg

The subways looked rather impressive, considering the chandeliers in the halls, the painting on the walls and the modern technology which was used with the signs, but Metro 6 did stand out for being somewhat more ancient looking, old, rusty, unappealing and somewhat even dirty.

And let's not even talk about the condition of the toilets there...

Sarina thought she could understand why Anatoliy insisted on going with this one. After all, what other place could be more fitting for such a meeting, if you wish to be discreet about it. Sarina knew the place was ugly enough to be avoided, so it was indeed perfect if a secret trading was to take place in it.

But...

Maybe it was a hunch or so, but she decided to stick with 26. With both 43 and 26 being so close, she realized the odds were too great to ignore. Beside, just the thought of Anatoliy going there, was enough to drive her away from metro 6; Far away as possible that is. Yeah, perhaps the considerations about sticking with metro 26 were more personal than professional, but Sarina didn't care.

Well, actually she did care, but she didn't want to admit such a petty feeling was preventing her from thinking more reasonably.

http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZMGoT9WlmHQ/Tj0pd9OhzFI/AAAAAAAAEfU/vG_SxkUlaFc/s1600/moscow-metro-train.jpg

Around her second train check, she realized her appearance drew way too much unneeded attention. People noticed her all too easily and the fact she just seemed so out of place and alone, did make some people stare at her longer than was needed. She noticed this a bit too late, but still on time to try and fix it.

She stepped outside the tubes and went for a near gift shop, covering her black hair with a big warm hat and her shoulders with a lovely white top she had just bought there. She considered sun glasses too, but realized it would only do the opposite by drawing additional unneeded attention.

Later that day she strolled around as she tried to notice anything out of place. She couldn't help but thinking how exactly would the trading be made. Was the item going to be given to someone, or was it there already?! Would it occur on the platform, or within one train while driving?

No one was to be trusted at this point, when Tony's hired hitmen, Victor's guards and Anatoliy were after it.

Amazing how something so small could draw so much gore and violence around it. Even at this point, Sarina couldn't quite figure what the star exactly was, but realized it must have been something big if so many people wanted it.

[Mysteria]

DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 11:30 PM
LOCATION: Cairo, Egypt - Shiloh's Room

Shiloh had returned to her room, a bit tired but too excited to even think about lying down for a short while to rest before the journey that lied ahead of them. As she tossed a few things into her carry on duffle bag, she looked around the room noting as she did that there was still the matter of where to keep her other items and Isaac's until she could return for them, or at least have them sent to their consecutive proper places. Shiloh fingered Isaac’s suitcase, sighing heavily as she opened it up and began the task of packing it with Isaac’s clothing. Shiloh’s heart was heavy with the knowledge that she would not only have to leave him behind, but without having a chance to see him again. She’d left a message at the hospital for him but it wasn’t the same as seeing him, staring into those blue eyes or being able to kiss him and hug him goodbye. Shiloh sat on the edge of the bed, hugging his folded shirt to her chest, her mind filled with the day’s events and with what was going on with Isaac. Although it was true that she hadn’t known him for a very long time, there had been an undeniable connection and that connection had went far past just the physical attraction the couple had shared for one another.

Isaac was special, he was different but now, Shiloh couldn’t help but wonder exactly how different he was. Placing the last item in the suitcase she closed it, setting it on the floor beside the door and then finished packing her own and doing the same after she had changed into a pair of form fitting jeans with a long sleeved white guaze shirt (http://cache-images.pronto.com/thumb2.php?src=http%3A%2F%2Fimages.pronto.com%2Fim ages%2Fproduction%2Fproducts%2F4e%2F86%2Fcand6c9bb 251352be2d2fd5392466403-1314269891_348x419.jpg&wmax=180&hmax=240&quality=80&bgcol=FFFFFF) over a teal colored tank top. Since she wasn’t certain where the professor was taking them exactly or what they may end up getting into, she opted to wear her white and gray Nike sneakers.

Moving into the small but efficient bathroom she flipped on the light, stepping in front of the mirror as she regarded the reflection she saw. Despite the fact that she her eyes were slightly tired in appearance, they still held a bit of an exited twinkle in them. With both hands on the edge of the sink she leaned closer to the mirror, her mouth forming the words “What have you gotten yourself into this time Shiloh Thompson?” Just then there was a knock upon her door. As she strode across the comfortably decorated living room to answer the door, she ran her fingers down through her long loose wavy locks. Upon opening the door she was met by a rather small Egyptian man, his eyes shifting as he handed her a note. She unfolded the note, reading it and then she spoke to him “Asyed, thank you. Before we go, is it possible that these suitcases can be taken care of until I can send forthcoming instructions on where to have them sent?” Scratching at his beard Asyed assured her that they would be taken care of and then Shiloh pulled the door shut behind them, giving the quaint little abode one final last sweep of her emerald eyes to be certain she hadn’t forgotten anything. Satisfied that she hadn’t she smiled, nodding at Asyed saying “I’m ready now.”

DATE: August 20th, 2042
TIME: 11:45 PM
LOCATION: On The Ferry

A short time later Asyed had brought Shiloh to a dock where a small, lit up vessel was docked. Thomas Langdon approached her, his smile calming and reassuring. Not only had Shiloh always thought since she was the young child that had a crush on the professor that he was a handsome man, she’d always found him to have a calming demeanor. She smiled warmly as he complimented her, and although Shiloh was accustomed to being complimented as an entertainer for some reason she couldn’t place, his compliment caused her to blush ever so slightly. “Thank you professor, and you are looking rather handsome tonight yourself” she replied as she took his arm “I’m sure I’ll be comfortable and the ferry is delightful!” She exclaimed with enthusiasm. As he lead her towards the ferry a small frown crossed her comely features as the mention of monetary payment having been made by the professor made its way to her ears.

Then his blue grey eyes looked into hers "The journey will give me time to tell you a bit about what we face when we get to Nekhen..."

Shiloh nodded as they boarded the small vessel, walking onto the upper deck as she walked to the railing, standing and looking out over the water as a soft breeze blew her long tresses around her face. Shiloh stared out over the river, the twinkling lights of the boat reflecting in a dance off of the dark water below. She turned then, looking into the professors kind eyes her hand resting on top of his upon the railing “Of course, I want to know everything. But I insist you let me pay for this though, I assure you any funds we need won’t be an issue, father and mother…” Her voice trailed off momentarily before continuing, a small stab of sadness pinging through her heart “they made sure I’d be more than taken care of” she finished. Then she smiled slightly “And I want to thank you for doing this. I know it’s foolish, perhaps even crazy but if this is all true, I have to follow where my heart leads.” Her expression grew more somber then, the smile fading slightly “It’s something I have to do.”

[Aheris]

Date: August 20th
Time: 7:25 PM
Location: Sacred Valley, Interior of Peru

Stepping briskly towards the bus, Guiliana was hoping that the three would follow...My princess is in another castle.

"How would you two like to make some real money?" He smirked. It was time to leverage the backing of the company he worked for. "Stephanie, whatever you did, it worked. The moon is a significant symbol, but obviously not the whole puzzle. Lance, I think I see a gap where we were looking before. This whole thing must be some kind of secret opening... it must ancient, hundreds of years old. You got a flashlight? Shit... we're going to need rope and supplies. I have some back at the bus. Mind helping me with those, Lance?" He turned back around and faced Guiliana.

Guiliana felt her diaphragm expand and her lungs fill with air. Her tension was apparent as she looked straight at Ben. Her lips twitched as she watched him begin to speak again.

"I know you, and I know about the rivalry. You're welcome to come along, but when we find the relic, it's going to Mr. Miller. You're welcome to take pictures." He winked and then stepped outside, calling back, "C'mon, Lance, your paycheck awaits!"

And just as suddenly as her anger had flared, her laughter burst forth uncontrolled. Guiliana nearly doubled over, her faced creased with the hilarity she percieved in Ben's last statement. Attempting to regain control, she coughed and answered:

"The rivalry? Over what? Some property on the island? Your boss's very dubious behavior? Over a relic that you couldn't find by yourself? You had to be sent all the way down here to follow us so that we could lead you to it?"

Guiliana cleared her throat once more, and raised her eyebrows. Maybe he will have a response, maybe he won't. Either way will tell me something about what he knows and doesn't.

“I think”, Stephanie started, looking up and swallowing some, “I will go with Ben, if that is okay?” Stephanie finished, giving an unconscious wink to Guiliana while looking a bit sad.

Ben was clearly pleased. Pride beamed from his face as he took Stephanie's hand, squeezing it in his.

Wow. What a special moment you two are having.

Trying to turn the situation to his advantage once again, he said:

"Well, at she's made up her mind! What about you two?"

"You mean, if you can actually get down there. That stone doesn't look like it's going to move, Ben. And if you'd done your research, you'd know a thing or two about underground riverbeds. They're especially prone to subsidence.

Even if the passageway you're dreaming of is still intact, there are likely other obstacles. I doubt the Incas left their treasures unguarded. But I'll go, maybe I can keep you from killing yourself. That, or disturbing something whose significance you have no idea of."

With that, she shook her head, a slight smirk on her face. Guiliana was a person of somewhat volatile moods and frequent biting remarks. After everything she had been through, she was just a bit short on patience for certain things. She knew that it was one of her weaknesses...but...there was nothing for it.

She sighed, arms dangling at her sides.

"You coming with, Lance?"

[~N~]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: Midnight to Dawn
LOCATION: On The Ferry

“Of course, I want to know everything. But I insist you let me pay for this though, I assure you any funds we need won’t be an issue, father and mother…” Her voice trailed off momentarily before continuing, a small stab of sadness pinging through her heart “they made sure I’d be more than taken care of” she finished. Then she smiled slightly “And I want to thank you for doing this. I know it’s foolish, perhaps even crazy but if this is all true, I have to follow where my heart leads.” Her expression grew more somber then, the smile fading slightly “It’s something I have to do.”

Dr. Langdon studied her expressions as Shiloh spoke the words. He pursed his lips and rubbed her shoulder comfortingly.

"The site at Nekhen is fairly well marked, but of course, I can get us in there as a fellow archaeologist, and they won't mind one guest much. I'm thinking that we'll start with the fabled tomb of Osiris, and move to the temple of Horus, both of which have been extensively unearthed, so we shouldn't face too much trouble." He fell silent and then glanced up at the relatively clear sky, noting that the moon was almost non-existent; the perfect night for stargazing.

And how many there were. He could lose himself in the stars if he didn't lose himself first in the dust. Somewhere, the calls of jackals and hyenas echoed across the river. Set might've been out there watching through their eyes, ages ago.

And all at once, the journey in the darkness seemed mythical in scope to Dr. Langdon, as though they were re-enacting the journey through the Underworld, that Osiris now sat as the eternal lord over. Smiling to himself, he thought "how fitting," and pulled out the Book of Am-Tuat and the Book of Gates--two major works depicting in hieroglyphics the journey through the Underworld. Most people thought the Book of the Dead depicted this, but really, that contained more spells than actual depictions of the journey itself.

He began telling Shiloh about this journey, and how Osiris guided souls through the Underworld to their final place in the shadowy existence of the Egyptian afterlife. "We are going back to the dawn of time and civilization. If you feel as though you are leaving one life to begin another, that would be exactly what such a journey as this would be about."

"However, once we get to the city of Nekhen, if we... find..." Langdon hesitated, "... this artifact--which I have no reason to believe we will, as much as I want to believe in your journey, Shiloh--if we do..." he glanced into her eyes to express the importance of what he was about to say, "You must let me handle it. They will not accept just anyone touching such a thing..."

There was something in his eyes when he said this that couldn't put described in words.
************************************************** ******
DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: Dawn, 6 AM
LOCATION: Cairo

"What?" Max Miller questioned in a very aggressive tone what was just told him on the phone.

"He took a ferry?"

The voice sounded unintelligible to Sarah Richards as she turned over in her own double bed across from her boss's.

"How do you know this?"

He was definitely irritated about something. Christ... doesn't he ever sleep? she wondered.

"What about a flight..."

The voice's response approached semi-audible volume from where she was lying.

"I'll pay for a fucking private jet, Harold! Find me a pilot! I'll be at the airfield in an hour!"

Max Miller slammed the phone town and swore loudly. "Get up," he commanded. "We've got a plane to catch. We're headed to Nekhen."

"Why?"

"Because Dr. Langdon is going to Nekhen."

"So?" Sarah was irritated. It was six o'clock in the morning. Why now?!

"He's looking for the same thing we are. I know it. I had Harold get me in touch with a few locals he trusts who kept an eye on him for me since yesterday. We're going. Get up. Now."

Fuck. There was no arguing with him now. Throwing the sheets from her, Sarah Richards got up, completely miserable and so angry. She'd have told him to fuck off if he wasn't paying her twice what any other company would.

************************************************** ******
Date: August 21st, 2042
Time: 2:00-3:00 PM
Location: Machu Pichu, Peru


"Such beauty in such a place as this."

"Truly," Father Bernardo Francis nodded, gazing at the emerald peaks and steep slopes down into valleys that surrounded them. "There are few pristine, untouched places in the world like this terraced city... and it's sister city, Choquequirao, which is where I'm actually headed."

He motioned for Nicolai to come along. "Legend tells of El Dorado being a place such as this... a city made of gold. Truly, the Incans had a wealth of precious metals, and so thought nothing of wearing them, and decorating their cities with gold inlays and designs. They were a people dedicated to the study of the medical arts, astronomy and mathematics. Archaeologists and anthropologists have uncovered skulls and depictions that indicate an understanding and application of brain surgery at the same time Leonardo Di Vinci was being praised for mapping out a more realistic understanding of human anatomy that saw blood and vessels and tissue as connected together into the same being, instead of just being in parts." He shook his head slowly as he gazed about him.

"And where Di Vinci is perhaps most famous for his blueprints on machines of war, the Incans had no such violent ambitions." He stopped for breath at the crest of the next peak. "When the Europeans came to them... they were not prepared." He motioned out before him to the secluded, hidden city of Choquequirao, virtually ignored by the dozens of tourists that mingled in and among the ruins of Machu Picchu: "This... is all that is left."

Then he soldiered on, and added, "At least... on the surface." His voice seemed to change for a moment with those final words. "What we seek is deeper beneath the peaks of these ancient hallowed civilizations... the lifeblood of the land itself... a single... drop..."

At this, he grabbed the ancient tome, and unclasped it, opening the ancient pages and tracing his finger along its lines, reciting an incantation. A sound of running water suddenly could be heard somewhere... nearby. The priest soldiered on, as if possessed by new strength.

[~N~]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 4:00 am
LOCATION: Bucharest, Romania

It was 4 AM, but Gerald Brassier was used to six hours sleep, so he was quite ready to tear the head off the world when Agent Garrus called him to inform him that Agent Sandler had gone in the night to Bran Castle and had found himself in positions of the phone and tracking device that was originally entrusted to Dr. Thomas Fynn, and that he was currently reattaining some semblance of consciousness at Bran Castle.

"Then he's definitely there, which means she's definitely there, and he's definitely still working with her," Brassier growled.

Agent Bryan Garrus could do little but agree.

"So you let him go?"

"I told him."

"You just let him go."

"Hey, boss. He's a grown man. I figured what would be the harm if he went ahead to the castle. Just so happens Fynn went there too. Looks like his hunch was at least half right after all."

"Don't make excuses for him, Garrus. Christ," Brassier swore with irritation.

"What are we going to do?"

"We're going to finish this," Brassier replied with flat, dead-serious tone. He slid over two black cases, embossed with the seal of the FBI X-Files division. Opening up a digital lock which scanned his right palm, he unclasped the containers, lifting the lid from them.

Garrus peered inside. "What the hell?"

Brassier threw him a glance that meant business. "I'm done playing around. She's not natural. Even if he is, she belongs in the hospital and you know it. Take this." His boss pulled out a weapon that looked like some kind of sleek, polished form of flame-thrower.

"Jesus Christ! We're going to arrest them, not incinerate them, right?"

Brassier shoved a special handgun into his already preoccupied hands, weighing down the bulky flamethrower Garrus was already holding. "Holster that somewhere where you can draw it."

"I already have a gun, sir."

"This isn't a normal fucking gun, Garrus. It's specially designed with a clip of silver bullets," he explained brusquely before throwing two more flamethrowers over his own shoulders and holstering two more silver-packed pistols.

"God, I feel like we're hunting vampires and werewolves..." Garrus flippantly remarked.

Brassier stood up and leveled his cold gaze at him.

"That's exactly what we're doing." And shoved another flamethrower and custom-made pistol into his arms.

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 6:00 am
LOCATION: Bran Castle, Romania

Dawn skies began to throw their reddish hues across the indigo sky as life began to awake in the sleepy hamlet around the touristy Bran Castle. The clouds and events of the previous night had passed, and the first of security took up their positions to begin their shift at the castle. They had barely gotten their themselves, when the FBI Director of the X-Files division, Agent Brassier showed up with Agents Garrus, Holden, and a slightly groggy Agent Sandler flanking him.

Minutes before, Brassier had given Sandler a once-over that would make him think twice about striking out on his own initiative again. If his head was already in bad shape, Brassier added a sizable soreness to his back and ribs when he slammed him against the side of the truck he was waiting for them in. His collar was roughed up and wouldn't be the same until it was ironed, stained as it was with blood from his swollen mouth.

"Excuse me," the posted security sentry addressed the approaching Agent Brassier.

The latter flashed his FBI badge, which just confused the guard.

"I'm FBI. We have fugitives on the run and we have reason to believe one of our agents was assaulted by them, and that they are somewhere inside this castle, or around in this village. If you do not give me access right now, I'm going to inform your superiors at Interpol, who I'm working with, that you're obstructing ongoing investigation and apprehension of known criminals in this country. Now step aside."

The introduction hit the sentry like a truck, and his eyes widened. He immediately pulled up on his walkie-talkie and paged his supervisor to inform him of the official guests he had.

When the supervisor came down, he asked what this was about. Brassier explained in the same business-like tone he used on the sentry and followed it up with an inquiry that sounded like a demand for anything out of place, or any workers unaccounted for. The supervisor replied, no there was no one unaccounted for, but that one quick check, they noticed that the door leading down to prohibited part of the castle was damaged, apparently by gunfire. Someone had done that in the middle of the night.

"Then that's where we're going," Brassier decided and pushed forward with his three agents armed.

"We go with you," the supervisor replied, offering resistance. Brassier shot him one of those killer looks.

"I go with you, for reasons of explaining what is going on here," the supervisor relented, ordering his other sentries to close the castle off for the day to tourists, and to begin a sweeping search for all possible intrusions and things out of place.

"Let's go," Brassier growled impatiently, and the four other men followed him, the supervisor keeping to the back to keep an eye on the agents and whatever else was going to happen. After all, a report would need to be made out...

*********************************
DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 6:00 am
LOCATION: The Forest surrounding Bran Castle

The young priest arose from his bed in one of Brasnov's B&B's. Romania was very much still a Catholic country, and they maintained the religious ties that their famous icon apparently had when he assaulted the Turkish army on his lands--even if they conveniently forgot about the part where he used a poison-and-salt policy to the detriment of his own people to deprive the invaders of anything worth having.

All conveniently forgotten.

He wondered, as he dressed himself, and stared out the window into the countryside if they forgot what lay buried beneath the roots of the forest surrounding Brasnov and Bran Castle. He wondered if they forgot the forest of spikes...

"..erected high upon the poles
the droplets drip and slip the souls
out from those corpse trees..."

These three lines kept echoing in his mind, feverish with dreams of crimson, darkness, souls and a world changed forever. The quest had awakened something else in him; something that had slept long dormant deep inside his soul. Brother Stephen Martucci always had the dream... the dream of the world of darkness... but now the beating, bloody gem pounded inside his thoughts and drummed through his soul.

He found himself compelled to complete this task, and not just for ambition's sake. The Cardinal-ship was tempting, absolutely, but he wanted more... More than the Church even could offer.

He couldn't explain it. He couldn't put it into words, but he felt it, driving him, as he walked outside the door, flashing a quiet, modest smile and nod to the elderly couple that kept the place. They could never know.

Driving out to the edge of the village, around the Castle to the west, he parked on the edge of the forest. It loomed in the distant shadow of Bran Castle, and its roots... fed on the bones and blood of generations that came before. Brother Stephen knew what this forest was, before it was overtaken by the voracious limbs of Nature...

http://www.vampires.be/images/4/4d/Vlad_woodcut.jpg

As he entered the wood, he knew, the ground he tread upon... hid the bodies of countless corpses deep beneath its rich soil, feeding these wicked, twisting dark trunks and limbs with their remains. He felt the breeze whisper its way through the swaying canopy, and knew that he would come across a clearing that should've been a graveyard....

And he hoped and prayed that it would lead him into the bowels of the earth.... where the blood was richest...

*********************************
DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 4:00 PM
LOCATION: Traveling to station 6, Moscow, Russia.

Anatoliy leaned against one of the tan arches of ancient Metro 6 station. It was like any other day, and the noisy trains came and went with passengers getting on and off, and security detail gazing about with half-open eyelids, casually taking in surroundings that they knew so well they could've sleep-walked their shifts.

Breathing in through his nose, he could still smell Sarina's scent on him. His lips curled at the ends into a smirk. He still felt what she did to him the night before. "Mmmm..." he practically purred to himself. Even if she was naive, she was quite vigorous in bed, and he supposed she might've even been a virgin, though her vivacious nature left him unsure. She had all the aggressiveness of an experienced young woman who knew what she wanted, and yet all the timidity of a girl who didn't know what she was getting herself into.

She could've almost been two people. Maybe she was.

After all, he definitely wore a mask with everyone he dealt with.

"Victor's getting abusive," came the sulking words of a man who leaned up against the same arch a moment later, to his right.

Anatoliy smiled again and proceeded to the bench a dozen feet in front of him, sitting down and unfolding a paper on the day's news.

The man did the same, but he pulled out a cellphone and began pretending like he was talking on it.

"We'll remedy that when we take him down. If he stays alive, you might even get to abuse him." To all passersby it looked liked Anatoliy was only reading the paper without moving his lips at all--a small illusion that was easy to maintain.

"You said I would get a promotion," Yuri replied.

"For taking down an ex-KGB mob boss? Is it even a question?"

"I want credit."

"You'll get all the credit you could ever want, as long as we get the star."

"What is it? What's so important?"

Anatoliy slid his eyes towards him, and his lips turned downward. "You only need to know that it is important; you do not need to know why."

"I don't know... I could blow all of this wide open. Claim all the credit myself."

"You could also die tonight. One more body among the bunch. Honorable death maybe, depending on how things get worked out," Anatoliy answered back in a calm manner.

"If the Star is important, it belongs to the Government," Yuri countered.

"They wouldn't know what to fucking do with it if we did give it to them. It's only importance lies with me. Don't fuck this up. Now, do you have what I'm after?"

"They're saying Station 43."

Anatoliy's eyebrows raised.

"You're lying."

"No, I swear. That's what their men say. They say they've got it... or are going to have it."

"You better not be lying."

"Listen, I know what I heard. 43. That's where it is."

"I cannot afford to bring anymore people into this. It better be there."

"It will be."

**********************************
DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 5:00 PM
LOCATION: Entering Moscow, Russia.

"Big Tony!" Vincenzo Gabrozzini welcomed his American Italian Mafia comrade with open arms and the usual Italian friendliness.

"Vincenzo Gabrozzini, it is good to see you," Tony Iglesias and Vincenzo embraced and patted each other's backs.

"Tell me you got something, brother," Tony implored him. "I've only been in this country two days and I already fucking hate it here."

"We did what we could, Tony. We bought some people, scrubs mostly, and we got information that has this shit going down three possible places... Metro Stations..."

"Fuck, Vince! They don't have Sammy in three pieces do they?!" Tony replied in a loud voice as they made their way to a restaurant.

"No, no, no, Tony. No, but I ain't so sure he's still with us. Bad fucker's got 'im. Name of Victor. Fuckin' asshole."

"Who the fuck is this Victor, Vinnie? Sounds like a fuckin' Russian."

"Everybody's fuckin' Russian here, Tone. Hell, stay here too long and you'd be fuckin' Russian too. And Frankie... well... "

He glanced over at Frankie Ferelli and smirked, "Well, he'd be a fucking Russian too, if they didn't find him pretty enough."

"HEY, Vince! Whatchu fuckin' sayin?!" Frankie shot off.

"Just sayin' you're kinda pretty is all!" Vince laughed back.

"Fuck you, Vincent."

"Vince, tell me what's the deal," Tony insisted, getting the conversation back on track as they took their seats.

"Waitresses around here are kind of hot shit," Frankie remarked staring at the buxom, tightly clad beauty that just sat them down.

"Yeah, but you gotta watch. Some of them are looser than your mother," Vincent replied.

"HEY! Watch yer fuckin' mouth about my mother, you fucking asshole," Frankie shot back.

"VINCE!" Tony raised his voice.

"Aright, aright! Keep it fuckin' down, Tone!' Vincent shushed him. "We got two-three dozen guys maybe. Who knows. Not all of them are reliable."

"You throwin' away our money on shit, Vince?" Tony eyed him.

"No, Tony, just... well, we're not the biggest, hardest game in town, if you know what I mean. This ain't Italy or America."

"Shhhh...." Tony turned away in disgust.

"Look, we got enough. Bodies. That's what matters. And info. Some of the scrubs got some. Stations 6, 24, 43. We think."

"You tink?!"

"Yeah. We 'tink'," Vincent mocked him. "Sammy'll be at one."

"Alive?"

"Like I said, we don' know that, Tony. Dis Victor fuck, he's a bastard. He mighta killed him."

"I'll break that fucker in half and make him suck on the end of my fucking gun Vincent, if he hurt fuckin' Sammy."

"I know it boss, but look... the police got people working for Victor too, so I bet they're gonna know about dis..."

"Yeah, well keep 'em off me while I go after the bastard."

"Alright, well here's the 'ting'," Vincent explained, sliding over some shady photographs of men, "There's Vic, there's Boris, his right-hand man..."

"Frankie, he's yours..."

"Oh yeah, give me the big fuckin' Frankenstein Russian. Great."

"Carry a big fuckin' gun, you pussy, and he should go down without too much of a fuckin' fight."

"How the hell are we gonna get out of here after all this is said and done?!"

"You got a way out, Vinnie?"

"I'm workin' on that," Vincent explained. "Gimme some more time and I'll have something, but it's only gonna be one shot."

"We'll fuckin' take what you got. Just get me outta dis fuckin' place and back to America soon as we get Sammy and this fuckin' package..."

"Right, Tony. I'll have something arranged."

"Good. Where's that slut waitress?!"

[~N~]

Date: August 20th
Time: 7:30 PM
Location: Sacred Valley, Interior of Peru

While Lance gave a silent shrug and nodded with a "I suppose I don't mind making a little mind while I'm down here doing... whatever it is we're doing down here. 'Cave spelunking,' I guess." He proceeded out to get Benjamin's equipment and supplies.

"Stephanie, if you wouldn't mind lending him a hand..." Ben suggested with a smile. She didn't get far before Guiliana voiced her objections and attitude with the biting sarcasm and derisive laughter of a woman who clearly did not respect him in the least.

"The rivalry? Over what? Some property on the island? Your boss's very dubious behavior? Over a relic that you couldn't find by yourself? You had to be sent all the way down here to follow us so that we could lead you to it?"

"With all due respect," Ben tilted his head and narrowed his eyes in reply, raising a finger and pointing at her, "I'm not certain you know what you're looking for down here, any more than the rest of us do. So you can sit there and pretend that you're little Miss Know-It-All, or you can come along like a civilized human being and help with the discovery of whatever we find. You couldn't honestly believe that you were the only one to know about this, could you? Certainly you're not that naive." His words were cutting, just like hers, and he said them with a kind of backbiting, maneuvering tone.

"There's something down there. You know it, I know it, and they should know it," he remarked, directing a glance and nod of acknowledgement to Lance and Stephanie, who were both about to leave the cavern entrance.

"You mean, if you can actually get down there. That stone doesn't look like it's going to move, Ben. And if you'd done your research, you'd know a thing or two about underground riverbeds. They're especially prone to subsidence.

Even if the passageway you're dreaming of is still intact, there are likely other obstacles. I doubt the Incas left their treasures unguarded. But I'll go, maybe I can keep you from killing yourself. That, or disturbing something whose significance you have no idea of."

He had about enough of her, his left eye twitching a bit. "For your information, I happen to be quite good at finding my way around caverns and obtaining things that others find difficult to acquire. Probably why I'm being considered for company leadership when Mr. Miller decides to retire," Benjamin Frakes shot back. "Why don't you get your things, then, Miss Della Romagna; we're not getting anywhere arguing about this."

He then turned and studied the relief of the Goddess, the quipu, and the stonework once more. Rubbing his chin, his beady eyes glanced at the depictions and engravings once more, falling upon the gap in the floor. Sliding his hand along the pictures from the moon where Stephanie had touched it, to the river of stars, and following that to the teardrop, he felt the entire chamber rumble again startlingly, shaking him nearly off balance as he jumped back, and the wall pulled away, revealing a gap about a foot wide that led down into a cavernous passageway below where the distinct sound of trickling water could plainly be heard.

"This must be it," Ben muttered. "Hand me the rope, Lance," he said turning back to the young man and grasping the rope from him. He got down on his hands and knees, and then onto his stomach. "I bet I can squeeze through here..." he muttered again. He wiggled forward, head-first, and slunk down into the crevice, squishing his body with a flexibility that seemed a bit unusual for a human being. His ribs seemed to flatten a bit and with a few shimmies, the rest of him, followed last by his feet, disappeared into the crevice.

"I don't think it goes any larger! Hopefully the rest of you can get through there... somehow..." he called back.

When he turned around, he was faced with a sublime beauty that was otherworldly to say the least, with a communion of sleek, shiny stalactites and stalagmites opening up to his vision as his eyes adjusted to the dark, and the burbling music of a nearby underground stream echoing in his ears.

"Somebody got a light?" he called back with an echo and a smirk. "This is unbelievable..." A passage clearly led forward, near the stream, winding ahead some distance before disappearing into the darkness.

************************************************** ****
DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 1:20 PM
LOCATION: The Azores, Terceira Island, a Caldera, and an Entrance

"Proceed into the Darkness that Was, before Creation's Light... where Chaos and Night hold Court over the Elements..." he intoned, as if the voice was distant even from his own.

The woman's mouth was decidedly earthbound. She glanced back at the inscription in the orange light of the setting sun. Then back at Jeremy.

"Who the hell are you?!"

His dark eyes flickered to her wide blue ones, astonishment, perplexity, and outrage present at the same time in them.

"Jeremy Venture," he replied in a flat, impatient tone. "And you," he paused, "are in my way, Miss..."

"Doctor Melissa Tuvolds, Mr. Venture. And I intend to stand in your way until you produce the documentation needed to work at this site," she admonished him, "which I have, and you aren't getting any time soon, by the looks of it."

Two more assistants came up and flanked her. "Is there a problem here, Dr. Tuvolds?" one of the men asked. "Who's he?" asked the other.

Jeremy fished out his Syber-Netix employee card. "I'm here on research business for Syber-Netix, as a representative for Maximillian Miller, who has already engaged the leadership of the Azores for rights to investigate any particularly interesting archaeological sites on the site, for preservation and intellectual purposes. A few choice universities have agreements with our company," he smoothly lied, eyeing each of them with a gaze that made him all the more persuasive, even though they fought to the contrary. As he spoke, they found themselves becoming increasingly acquiescing to his story, until finally, their lids half-drooping, they nodded dumbly and let him pass without a word.

The shadowy Mr. Venture approached the stone entrance, and ran his fingers over the hieroglyphs and cuneiform there, tracing each mark, and whispering the language he himself wasn't even consciously aware of. Somewhere inside, a vent of sulfurous steam vented suddenly with a shriek, and splitting sound of stone on stone sounded as if the earth itself was going to crack open with a gaping yawn. The entire archaeology site was gathering around behind the figure of Jeremy Venture while the opening split open like a toothy maw and unsealed itself before him. Down within its depths it seemed as if a series of echoes could be heard that sounded ghastly, and even approached something human. To hear it recorded, one might make out gibbering, howling, wild shrieks, moaning... one could not say any of these things by themselves, and yet all of them at once.

Without another moment's hesitation, Jeremy proceeded down into the dark depths, his eyes supernaturally attuning to the darkness, that even with his extraordinary vision, still seemed to wrap him in a suffocating blanket. The air was not wholesome and it was thick with a sulfuric stink that began to collect on his clothes and skin. A narrow, treacherous passage led down to the right, curving around counterclockwise as it went lower and deeper. Torches and flares followed behind him as Dr. Melissa Tuvolds and her two male associates started down behind him.

Glancing down and to his left, Jeremy could discern that this path was all there was along a sheer cliff face that dropped off into a bottomless darkness. Staring down into it, one might easily become quickly disoriented with the sheer bottomless nature of it, and the swallowing darkness seemed to belch forth with fumes and an unholy cacophony that none of them could put to words.

But somewhere in that swallowing darkness, was the thing Jeremy sought. He knew it.

[Koti~]

For Freedom (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TMzj2d9ELRo)

Date: August 20th
Time: 7:32 PM
Location: Sacred Valley, Interior of Peru

Stephanie smiled a bit happily as Ben told her to go help Lance with the rope from the bus. Exiting the room and following the silent lance, who seemed to be thinking of something, Stephanie couldn’t help but notice the slight glee emanating from Evalon.

“Why are you in such a good mood?” Stephanie asked her timidly, fearing what she would do. Suddenly the springy step left her body, and she walked calmly behind Lance.

“It’s good to plan ahead, and as well, got to make you seem girly, no?” Evalon said, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. Stephanie blushed some at that comment, helping move some of the stuff from the bus back to the room. After that, she watched silently as things progressed, eventually leading with Ben climbing down the hole. She followed soon after, gripping the rope tight. Evalon was glad that Stephanie was so skinny, which made climbing down the hole easier, thought Stephanie was a bit unnerved. With the lack of light and tight space, she was feeling squashed. Soon though, she landed in the cave, barely able to see through the cavern. A slight damp feeling pervaded the room, making her shiver a bit.

“Somebody got a light?” Ben asked out loud, making his voice echo around the dark chamber.

“Oh, that reminds me, give me a second here” Evalon’s voice sounded in her head, making her jump a bit. A small pop was felt through her body, and Stephanie had to close her eyes from the sudden burst of light. Slowly opening her eyes, she had noted that Ben hadn’t reacted to the light, nor made much change in action as he explored the close area.

“What did you do?” Stephanie asked her, her voice still shaky from the rapid change in light.

“Simple, I used a bit of our “skills” to make it easier to see. Now shut up and follow Ben” Evalon ordered, ending the conversation. Stephanie nodded complacently, wanting to keep Evalon in as good a mood as she could. Taking a breath, she slowly opened her eyes, and audibly gasped. The enhanced sight granted by Evalon made the cave seemingly spring to life with a blue tint. The walls seemed to shimmer and shift with what light they had, the cooled air having formed water droplets onto the wall. Stalactites hung from everywhere, an occasional drop of water piercing the comforting silence as it landed in a small puddle.

Stephanie slowly walked over to the closest wall, running her hand over the wall. The liquid clung to her skin as her fingers traced along the almost silk like wall as small rivulets of water dribbled down, disturbed by her movements. Looking around in splendor, she slowly walked around, lost in her own world.

The smell of the cool damp air only added to the pleasure the cave brought, a soft smile alighting on her lips. She barely noted the others coming down if they did, enjoying the calm feeling that pervaded every inch of this area.

“Hey, idiot, pay attention, the others are heading out!” Evalon screamed at her, making her jump again. She noticed that the others were heading down one of the passage ways, Ben having gotten a flashlight from the duffel bag that had been brought in from the bus.

"Wait for me!" Stephanie said, breaking her own silence and rushed off after them, her shoes clapping hard on the ground. She caught up with them just as they entered one of the tunnels, the still moist walls following them. Stephanie panted a bit, moving along as the walls seemed to shimmer as the light passed over them, the moisture still clinging to them.

“Hm… how do we go about getting Ben on his own.” Evalon thought to herself, keeping her thoughts hidden from Stephanie. She had many plans, leading him into a different tunnel, asking him to hang back… causing a cave in with the others behind them. So many ideas ran through her mind, the others more gruesome than the others. She had even thought of just straight out killing them, but the odds of getting all three before one reacted would be very minimal at best… and Stephanie’s body wasn’t the strongest in the world.

“Would you please stop that” Stephanie interjected, making Evalon aware that her thoughts had started to seep outwards. Evalon snarled mentally, making her cringe.


“I will think whatever I want to, regardless of whether you like it or not! Now pay attention to what is going on, or I will bite.”

“You wouldn’t, and my teeth aren’t sharp enough to leave nothing more than a small mark” Stephanie replied, instantly regretting it.

“Ohho, you’re teeth yes, but mine are sharp enough to draw more than blood from your arm.” Evalon sneered, making Stephanie shiver.

“Seeing as I am in control, I will let you feel them for yourself” Evalon said, slowly rising her hand to her mouth, her lips parting slowly. Stephanie mentally paled at her fingers ran slowly along the fangs that now graced her ivory like teeth. Shocked by the realization, she pulled the hand away and clenched her jaw shut, flinching at the fangs grazed her gums some.

“Now, be a good girl and… look out!” Evalon shouted, realizing that the others had stopped before a large hole. Too quick to react, they fell, the hole going dark as Stephanie covered her eyes and screamed, the hole acting as a sound tunnel and echoing upwards towards the others. Evalon, shocked by the sudden lack of control, and to brace for impact, forced both of them to fall unconscious, knowing that pain later would be better than the shock of now. …


“Hey… wake up!!!” Stephanie sat up abruptly, stars spinning around her head. Looking around, she could see that she had fallen quite a ways, but the entrance seemed to slope upwards, leading to a vertical drop, the hole that they had fallen down. Shouting could be heard from above, but with her head spinning, she couldn’t focus on who it was. Standing up and wincing as something ground together, she looked at where she fell, and stood in wonder.

Stephanie gasped in wonder as the view of an underground pond came swimming into view, breath-taking as light danced from a hole above the water. Fresh air drifted down from the hole in the ceiling, throwing light down along the water surface. Streams of what looked like molten light danced along stalactites that hung like hungry teeth, waiting to gnash together with the stalagmites lining the floor of the cave.

“What’s that in the center?” Evalons asked, drawing Stephanie’s sight towards the center of the pond. There, lying in the center, something glimmered under the water, something seemed to shine with light from above, casting an eerie glow on the whole room.

“Let’s go get it… before the others have a chance to.” Evalon said, heading towards the edge of the water. Stephanie knelt down, feeling out of sorts as Evalon reached her fingers towards the glassy surface. As her fingers parted the liquid glass before her, icy cold penetrated her body. Once the water lapped against her wrist, the object in the center shimmered with some hidden light, the water rippling outwards. An odd presence carried itself on the water, as Stephanie and Evalon watched on with bated intrigue.

The instant the ripple touched her skin, Evalons mind became flooded, pushing Stephanie into a deep crevice in her own mind. Evalon felt as though she were drowning on air, her mind becoming filled with the strange presence from the stone in the center of the water.

“Thou with ill intent in their heart shall drown in the vengeance of the water!” The voice gurgled, sending pain arching through her body as her eyes widened, the water inviting her, tempting her to join it in eternal peace.

“I… I won’t die here, I don’t want to!” Stephanie said, desperately clawing her way out of the crevice into control, feeling lost other than her drive to get away from the water. Screwing up what little control she had, her fingers slipped carefully out of the water, dripping from the tips as her hand moved up. Full control flooded her body as she jerked backwards, rolling on her sides as landed on her back, hard. The pain from the intrusion finally hit her, making her curl up into a ball as a scream rent from her lips, her fingers clutching her head as agony threatened to engulf her completely, crimson liquid seeping onto her fingertips as she clutched her head, Evalon paralyzed and only able to watch, unable to move from the waters demented hold on her, still lingering there.

[Mysteria]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: Dawn
LOCATION: On The Ferry


As they made their way up the renowned river on the ferry, Shiloh listened to the Professors tale as he began to tell her about the City of the Hawk and she found its history to be both rich and intriguing. She had known that the city was old but she hadn’t realized that it also held Egypt’s oldest tomb. The city reached its height around 3400 BC, and had once functioned as a capital for Upper Egypt.

The town had been filled with farmers, potters, masons, weavers, other craftsman and officials. On the Northern side of the town there had been a brewery of sorts, where pottery vats were used for brewing wheat-based beer and it was estimated that the brewery could produce around three hundred gallons of beer per day. Professor Langdon was a walking encyclopedia when it came to Nekhen and its history. Some interesting finds had been found there, including two pottery masks with cut-out feline-shaped slanted eyes, aquiline noses, and mouths and she wondered just what rituals these masks might have once been used for as her eyes scanned the curtain of night filled with stars on this particular evening, despite the fact that dawn was quickly approaching.

Shiloh spoke little as the ferry made its way down the Nile, preferring to listen to the Professor as he spoke about their destination. Her eyes returned to his face as he began to tell her about the journey of Osiris having guided souls through the underworld and a part of her understood the importance of each individuals own journey, just like the one that she found herself embarking upon, first with Micah and now with the Professor into things unknown to her.

"We are going back to the dawn of time and civilization. If you feel as though you are leaving one life to begin another, that would be exactly what such a journey as this would be about."

His words only served to reinforce her thoughts of just a few seconds ago. Something in his tone changed with his next words though, causing a small shiver to run throughout the far away from home entertainer.

"However, once we get to the city of Nekhen, if we... find..." Langdon hesitated, "... this artifact--which I have no reason to believe we will, as much as I want to believe in your journey, Shiloh--if we do..." he glanced into her eyes to express the importance of what he was about to say, "You must let me handle it. They will not accept just anyone touching such a thing..."

There was something in his eyes when he said this that couldn't put described in words.

The Professors voice, his very expression caused another shiver to run through Shiloh and she nodded, an unspoken understanding passing between Thomas Langdon and herself as the ferry edged into the dock. The sun was just peaking over the horizon as she stepped foot onto the dusty soil beneath her feet, musing out loud and shaking her head in amazement “Ancient history….” Then taking the professors arm she smiled brightly “And to think, we could actually be making history before this journey ends” she said in a quiet voice, laced with excitement.

[Kris]

DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 18:50 PM
LOCATION: Traveling between stations, near metro 26 and metro 43, Moscow, Russia.


The air was pretty suffocating within the station and the temperature were descending by the hour. The sun, although blurry and dim, was still visible but it was easy to feel that evening was approaching. It was during that time that Sarina felt how painful it was to walk around in the new boots she bought at the airport when she first arrived here. Those damn shoes were supposed to protect her feet from the intense cold, but so far proved to be little comfort at long distance walks. Sarina didn't make life easy for herself by traveling from one station to another, mostly by foot, since she had little money she could afford to spend on cabs or trains.

When she stopped and rested upon one of the station's waiting benches of metro 26, she felt uneasy and nervous and she wasn't able to bring herself to relax and ease the pain in her legs. The fact that few people already asked her if she needed help or so only made her certain that she was acting very unnatural, but she couldn't help it... No matter where she looked, no matter at who she looked, all she saw was danger. Children, woman, elders... heck, Sarina knew that even the police had a share in this. She shuddered, feeling her legs trembling as she tried to grab them with her hands and stop herself from looking so helpless to others.

Some more time passed before she looked up and straighten her gaze ahead as a sudden realization stroke.

"amm..."

The police was in this too....

"amm...."

She got up and looked around while the thoughts started to swarm her brain; Anatoliy knew her name.... She gave it little thought before, but now she realized that he oddly enough knew too much about this gangs war... which meant that there was a mole among their ranks... and not only that... said mole must had somehow access to information...

"Let's see...".

Victor was an ex-KGB... It shouldn't be that hard for him to know how to gain information from within... or... It could be easy for him to have some men inside to work for him and deliver information... It could all work smoothly unless someone in his gang wished to have more power and overthrew Victors's reins...

"The mole probably wanted to gain fame or rank from Victor's downfall...."

Anatoliy worked solo, Sarina was almost sure of that and It seemed like he knew who Victor was and how Victor played into this... Anatoliy could have been a former hitman for Victor too, come to think of it , this made sense... That could explain how he learned about the star and how he could handle and flee Victor all this while...

Sarina knew that she could have been wrong to conclude all this, but she knew one thing. Anatoliy had ways to make people pursuit things for themselves. Sure, he would be the one to enjoy the harvest at the end, but once he could make people do more for themselves he could make them think and see things clearer and better... Making them chase more, be more, making them grow...

Now let's just say that he happened to find such a weak man within the ranks of Victor that was willing to do everything to get more power over Victor...

"Yes...".

The mole worked for Anatoliy and in return he was promised something... The spy was obviously too weak on his own, but had the means and the ways to get things done. Anatoliy was the coacher and the mastermind behind all that... He could plant the seeds of doubts in one's heart, make him see more about himself than he should have... Make him chase higher goals... and Anatoliy was waiting for him to reach it so he could attack him later while his spy was blinded and drenched with power...

"Clever... so clever...".

The mole couldn't be just anybody either... It must have been someone who was looking for power, knowing he would be protected with this said gained power...

Sarina raised her head, noticing men in blue uniforms with stern expression. Some of them were patrolling with dogs while the others seemed to secure the exits, looking carefully around as if they were searching for something.

http://www.cdi.org/russia/johnson/russian-police.gif

Sarina's eyes widen.

The mole was probably someone from inside the police force...

***


DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 19:00 PM
LOCATION: Traveling between stations, near metro 26 and metro 43, Moscow, Russia.


Sarina stepped outside quickly when she realized the men in blue were sealing the gates all around while checking the bags and documents of every man and woman in the station. She wasn't found of this, and considered this act to be a bit too suspicious from the police's side. She figured someone must have warned the police so it will be easier to get some competitors to "withdraw" early from this "tournament", making things easier for the final showdown.

To be honest, all her cards and passports were up to date and her black hair was covered with the new hat, but it wouldn't take them that much to learn she was a foreigner. They'll probably even double check on her because of this, which will risk her of wasting precious time and/ or getting arrested.

Once outside she realized it wasn't that bad to keep some distance away for now. The computer file said something about Station 43 at hour 21:30 and Station 26 at hour 21:20, which meant there was at least two more hours according to her hacked documents before something was going to happen in one of those two stations, and since Sarina disqualified the third option of Station 6, she could enjoy the time window between the two stations which were so close to one another.

In addition, since the stations were close by, she was able to take a further look from a long distance and sniff around for any new information. She was still unsure about where to look exactly, so she hoped someone will make a mistake and she will be aware enough to notice it.

"Yeah right....", She sighed. They were probably professional, so mistakes in the open were doubtful, but just then she heard something...

http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2010/6/10/1276183226367/Russian-police-006.jpg

"Yeah, it's me, Yuri... I'm here... Yes, got here not too long ago... ", the man talked to his mobile, "Yeah... Well...", he chuckled, "Yes, driving with red lights on sure helps to clear traffic better... yes... gotta love being a cop...", He turned around and Sarina quickly made herself busy by reading a big sign that was just behind her, "Yeah, near 43 now... Well I didn't see Vic yet... I'm not sure he'll show up until later...", Sarina noticed from the corner of her eyes that he was checking around himself, "Yeah, there are some girls here... But... just the typical blue eyes blondie so.... Yes... I don't think she is around... yes... yes... look, I understand okay? I'll watch it.... Just... okay.... when do you plan to get here?... amm... Got it, I'll keep you updated".

He hanged the phone and Sarina waited for him to clear the path. Quickly she withdrew her laptop, trying to active the wireless net and looking for some phone hacking program. Soon Yuri get his phone ringing with another confidential call. He answered it, but heard nothing. Little did he knew that something was going to take over his phone from this moment onward. Sarina smirked. His future calls were about to be sent directly to her computer as text files.

Seemed like she found a promising aider after all...

[Rook]

Date: August 20th
Time: 7:30 PM
Location: Sacred Valley, Interior of Peru

And there he stood. Ben, Guiliana, and Stephanie had already made the all too long decent into the darkness and still atop, Lance looked at the well secured rope with unease.

Lance had never been a cowardly man. From his ‘to the point’ speech, to stepping into a three on one fight unarmed. Snakes didn’t bother him, he loved spiders. Water never bothered him. Hell, he could swim like that old American Olympic hero… What was his name? Michael Phillips? It didn’t matter. Neither did heights. Unfortunately, every man has an Achilles heel. His? Tight spaces.

Fortunately, he was also the king of not thinking about things, so he quickly pretended to brush off his phobic nature, and began what would have been a slow descent to a normal person. For Lance it was half heartedly holding the rope so he slid down it at a high rate of speed and grabbing it at well timed intervals so he wouldn’t dislocate his shoulders, or soon enough, break his legs.

Once that horrid experience was complete, he realized just how worth the terror it truly was. He gazed around the dark expanse, and, with what little light was permeating the dense black of the cave, he was dumbstruck.

It was magnificent. Stalactites. Stalagmites. A thin carpeting of moss fed by the beautiful, pristine river flowing through it. So awestruck was he that if an anaconda were to slither out of said river right now, there was a good chance that he’s do nothing more than take a few pictures, as opposed to fighting for his life as he had the breath strangled from him. It was by far the most amazing thing he’d ever seen.

And that was when the most amazing part of the amazement hit him.

“Guys… Do you realize that we’re the first people to see this place in… I don’t know, a half century… This could be the most impressive archeological find since… I don’t know… That last archeological find this impressive. Take it in… This is probably going to be the shining moment of our lives… Well, yours anyway.” He said, usual snark to his tone.

“There’s a hint of truth to that…” He thought to himself as he walked. “Mine is going to be when I grab that stone from wherever the hell it is… No matter what I have to do to Ben… No, all of them, to keep it.”

His prize lingered in his mind. Since their conversation up stairs, the picture was getting clearer. More vivid. As his mind caressed the little round gem, the world began to haze. It faded back in, and his pace slowed. Guiliana, and Ben still walked to either side of him, but suddenly, from within him, stepped forth another figure. A tall, hearty, near enthrall Inca, dressed dark, moved forward. Guiliana and Ben faded, and so did his sense of self.

Date: December 21, 1386
Time: 12:00 AM
Location: Sacred Valley, Temple of Coniraya; Entrance Cavern

Lance felt his physical presence shift and wane from existence as the men moved forward. His eye line began to drift upward and move directly over the fast flowing river, offering him a better vantage point of the some odd two dozen men moving swiftly, yet quietly down the wide, relatively newly made walkway.

Suddenly one of the men broke from the rest of the group and stepped forward, with a call of “Wait.”

He didn’t understand the language. He knew that for certain. Yet in some inexplicable way, his mind collected the word, and translated it.

“What troubles you Acahuana.” The Leader whispered, turning back to the now motionless group.

“Must we do this father… Invade a temple of Coniraya… For what… To kill and steal? On the Summer Solstice no less?” He asked, and a hushed, uneasy voice. The leader’s eyes grew dark with disapproval.

“Acahuana… It has been willed by Zupay that we take the holy moon stone from the people of this temple… In asking we stop, you ask of despair on not only you and I, but everyone here, and all of those close to us… Stopping will bring forth the creatures of Uca Pacha. Then not just us… Not just our loved ones… Everyone will suffer for our insolence.” His voice became harsh, and his eyes angry. Acahuana seemed to cower for a moment, but soon began to desperately reason once more.

“But Father… How are we even sure it’s truly Zupay. His magic… It was impressive. But may it be that he is a deceiver… A sorcerer of some sort attempting to misguide us for his own end…” At first, the leader’s expression grew angry. Then his face grew calm, but a kind of calm Lance new well. That was boiling rage and cold calculation. He stepped forward and embraced the young man.

“I’m sorry son… You may be right… He may not be Zupay… But if that is the case, we’ll have angered a powerful witch. No matter the case, I can not allow that risk. And you can not stand between us and his will.” As he finished, the boy’s eyes went wide, and his head slumped. The leader removed the stone dagger from his son’s body and laid him gently on the ground. “Another tribute to Lord Zupay.” He said, rising. Silently, the men continued forward.

Date: August 20th
Time: 7:50 PM
Location: Sacred Valley; Temple Ruins; Entrance Cavern.

Lance was suddenly back in his body after his experience, and still walking along side Guiliana and Ben.

“What in God’s name was that…” He thought, as the two in front of him stopped suddenly. Fortunately he halted as well, as he saw the massively expansive hole ahead. He whistled loud and long, punctuated with a “Damn.”

“So… What do we do?” He asked, oblivious to what was coming next. Stephanie, clearly more dead to the world than he had been, walked straight off the edge. Lance dove to her fall point and tried futilely to grab her. Not even remotely close. The impact was clearly defined with an echoing thud, choking off the long, heart wrenching scream. Lance, even though he was sure it too late, made a quick, and reckless move. He tossed his mass over the edge, and began a speedy descent, without even a second glance at his cliffside allies. After a few moments of climbing, he thought he heard soft footsteps echoing from the from the cavern floor. He eased a bit. Unless this was in fact where the Incan Civilization vanished to half a millennium ago, it had to be Stephanie. And in the sake of logic, he assumed the latter.

He relaxed, hanging in place, allowing himself a moment to catch his breath, before calling up.

“Hey, guys, I think she’s ok!” He roared up to Guiliana and Ben. His words were then force fed back to him by lapping water followed quickly by a howling scream and a thump.

If Lance had taken the time to think about it, he would have been able to rationalize what was about to happen. Logically, if frail little Stephanie could fall from far higher than he currently was, and be in good enough condition to walk away, he’d be able to land it no problem. Having said that, he could have contradicted that with the realization that she was, in fact, a cat person. Cats have fallen from deathly heights, and pranced away with nary a scratch, and that said, climbing the rest of the way down would be the smart plan.

Unfortunately, in the time that it took for I, the player to write that long winded conceptualization of what-ifs and subsequently break the fourth wall, Lance reacted, launching himself from the rock wall and was picking up falling speed at an incredible rate. Fortunately, on the other hand, he wasn’t falling for very long. He hit a slant and landed rolling.

With the combined downward momentum of the fall, and the horizontal momentum of the (thankfully) sloped ground, he was able to spring straight up, albeit stumbling, and break into a sprint. His switchblade was torn from his back pocket as he tore headlong into the room, scoping for any threat in the strangely lit room. He crouched beside the young girl, doubled over in pain, and propped her up.

“Steph! Hey, you there?” He growled, patting her lightly, but firmly on the cheek. “What happened, are you ok?” He said, grabbing her hand and inspecting the seeping wound.

“Wait… Better question… Why do you care… She’s just some crazy broad that happened to break free of the wacko basket… This is the trouble with humanity, always so driven by emoti-“ he choked that thought off midsentence, unable to figure out where the sudden ‘self hating human’ complex came from.

It was true however. He didn’t really know why he cared. Stephanie was just another face in the crowd not four days ago. He had friends from grade school he wouldn’t hide in his apartment from the police, or rush off to South America with. Or especially follow into a dilapidated cavern to help them fulfill a likely selfish goal… Ok, well that one wasn’t the best example, since he’d just inwardly vowed to kill either of the women he traveled with if they interfered. And sex was a good enough motivator to fly half way around the planet for most men. And potential hero sex was a good enough reason for most men to hide a girl from the police.

Actually, come to think of it, most of the things he’d done thus far could be easily written off as acts of kindness motivated by selfish desire. Except of course, diving from a distance he couldn’t measure in the dark on a hunch to a solid cavern floor to ensure the safety to one of his very recent ‘friends’. He already did it for one, and really thinking about it he could ensure he’d do it for the other. He hated to admit it, but the two of them had grown on him.

“Yeah, you’re ok… You’re gonna be ok, just don’t freak out. Does anything feel broken?” He asked, settling himself a bit, and giving her a half smile, for the first time something more sincere than an almost spiteful smirk. “Guiliana! Ben! Not to criticize you for not joining the ‘Jumping to potential Death’ club, but if you could pick up the pace a bit, it would be much appreciated! Steph’s Hurt. It doesn’t look too bad, but then again, I’m no doctor! You’re a treasure hunter, right Ben!? You must have a first aid kit or something in that bag of yours!” He screamed back, making damn sure the stragglers who decided a base jump with no gear was a bad idea could hear him.

Did it change the fact that he’d remove anyone that stood in his way, even if he didn’t quite know why? Absolutely not. But he may as well let them enjoy their time together. Hell, maybe he’d even get a kick out of it himself.

[Cookies Ahoy]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 3:45 am
LOCATION: Unknown cavern below Bran Castle, Romania

TJ let out a heavy yawn, a sign of both it being very early in the morning and him being bored stiff. Gihst was busy working on his makeshift rope, and Tansy was busy with Fynn. He couldn’t tell if the latter were trying to keep their conversation to themselves, but he couldn’t help but hear it. As interesting as the talk between the two love birds was, it boiled down to one basic thing: they were on the run from the FBI.

The ex-Marine didn’t find that detail too appealing. It meant that if either of the two of them were caught, they could implicate him somehow. He didn’t have any interest in being questioned by the FBI or any other government agency. With an FBI agent somewhere behind the group, TJ couldn’t just turn around and leave. He would have to stick around with the fugitives and the stranger, Gihst, for awhile longer.

Letting out a short huff of stale cave air, TJ nodded in agreeance with Tansy’s “hurry-up” statement. He also walked closer to Gihst as he finished the ‘rope.’ Simply put, TJ was skeptical it would be hold him -TJ probably being, the heaviest one in the group.

[Ad Infinitum]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 3:45am
LOCATION: Unknown cavern below Bran Castle, Romania



That answer from Fynn seemed off – he thought, measuring the rope in segments between his sternum and wrist – It was an answer that suggested the common ruse of a bad liar: using a ham-handed segue to draw attention to the lie, allowing a small leak of truth to lift suspicion, and then quickly diverting the subject when questioned to dodge a faux pas; it was a mood scam. He scuffed the ground with a boot to be certain that he had left no cigarette ash behind, pausing to tuck the dead filter of his Djarum into a pocket. Albeit so, Fynn could still prove him wrong; and though he hoped for this outcome, Gihst had learned firsthand that the newest recruits were those that must be treated with the most caution…



‘…the word ‘sorry’ was chanted in a ragged voice ruined by screaming. The dim bulb in the bathroom reflected on that dark face in the three streaks, silver and red. Then a gritting scratch brought an orange light that wormed in the stupefied eyes of the man, soaked to the skin, a shiny thread of spit and blood bridging his slackened jaw to his shoulder.

Gradually his vacant eyes flickered, rolled, and then bloomed in terror at the source of that merry, orange glow.

‘…Saint Andrew, no, no, no-‘ his weak begging was swallowed by a growling sob and the man grimaced; there was still glass in his mouth and his swollen cheek had turned a livid purple. But as the orange crackled on alive, he could only hop hopelessly in the chair he had been bound to, his sodden hair wagging in dripping wicks off his brow.

But the man saw death in those eyes, and knew.

Suddenly, he lurched violently forward –

‘Titim gan eiri ort, Hound, for the Warren shall ne’er ‘gain!’ His voice boomed and gurgled, blood and spittle flying from his red teeth, the cords standing out on his neck, straining –

Then, altogether, the world was swallowed up in a burning light…’



"There was an agent here? How did he track me? How..." Her words were an echo that grew. "I don't mean to be a nag; but we really, really need to get a move on, boys."

Had the floor shifted a moment ago? No; he had only felt himself snap upright, rocking where he stood – he collected himself, groggy.

“……aye,” Gihst murmured belatedly, abstracted, looping the rope about his neck with a cursory glance to TJ. ‘There was an agent here’ – like roaches, seeing one meant there could be more. He scowled as he steadily worked open the buttons of his overcoat, leaving the tail ends of their rope to drape off his shoulders like a loosened necktie. Only two pistols to their names; they were going to have to be more inventive. He mulled as he shrugged out of the heavy coat, tugging down the rumpled hem of the sleeveless undershirt beneath. And having salvaged its shoulder strap for the rope, he carefully folded his messenger bag inside the body of the coat and tied its sleeves around his waist.

The Scotsman was a knotted whipcord, sleek with a wiry strength; on his arms were pale bangle scars, like those on an imprisoned man that had worn shackles too small too long. He was considering the cavern chimney above, cracking his neck from right to left as he bundled down into a crouch.

“…this willnae take long…” and the rogue surged forward like the popping unfurl of a compression spring. He vaulted to gain purchase against the cavern wall, lime dust roiling up beneath those heavy boots as he kicked off to airborne and twisted, snapping out his limbs spreadeagle to catch himself in the vertical tunnel like a Vitruvian Man, his fingers flexed to great tension as they held fast to the knobby walls like a vice. Then another breath, another slight crouch, and he side-straddle hopped up the chimney, disappearing into the darkness.

A full minute of absolute silence passed.

Then with a hushed swish, the tail of the rope dropped from above like a slack, serpentine tongue from the toothed mouth of a lamprey. There was a gritting noise and soon the Scotsman rappelled down into view, dangling just below the mouth of the cavern chimney with his boots propped to the wall.

“…one at a time,” he husked. “Ah'll haul ye up if ye cannae climb.” Then the overshadowed, black sockets of his eyes turned on the doctor.

“…ye first, Fynn.”

[Aheris]

Date: August 20th
Time: 7:35 PM
Location: Sacred Valley, Interior of Peru

Guiliana was studying Ben's self-defense. He was trying to justify hauling all four of them down there, based on their right to know and partake in this relic. But he was trying to play on their emotions: trying to get at their desires to serve his own ends. And in this game, Ben would be first and foremost a businessman, not an archaeologist or humanitarian.

Ben's eye twitched. He appeared to be pretending he was secure, that he could do this without them. But if he could, why would he bother trying to enlist them?


"For your information, I happen to be quite good at finding my way around caverns and obtaining things that others find difficult to acquire. Probably why I'm being considered for company leadership when Mr. Miller decides to retire," Benjamin Frakes shot back. "Why don't you get your things, then, Miss Della Romagna; we're not getting anywhere arguing about this."

So is that what they've been trying to hide? And why the hell do they give a shit?

Guiliana bit the inside of her lip, and closed her eyes. She tried to feel the breeze on her face and neck, to steady herself. I have to go. As much as I hate it, hate dealing with this *plaything*
of Max's..I have to. I can't let them walk off with it and do God-knows-what.

As she opened her eyes, her gaze returned to Ben as he intently examined the walls and relief again. He pressed his fingers into the moon a second time, causing the same rumbling and somewhat more of a shift in the stonework.

In a strange and unexplainable manner, Ben slid down into the crevice. As he sank down, rope in hands, he reminded Guiliana of a snake. He seemed to shimmy and slither glibly, dropping into the darkness below.

"I don't think it goes any larger! Hopefully the rest of you can get through there... somehow..." he called back.

"Somebody got a light?" And echoed something else into the dark below Guiliana.

"Yeah, I have one." Not that I need it.

Being a slight bit smaller than Ben, Guiliana knew that she would be able to make it down through that crevice. However, it was still uncomfortable. As she slid her way down, her shoulders were a bit cramped and her chest was compacted unpleasantly. But once she made it farther down, the descent was nolonger an issue.

As Guiliana came closer to the cavern floor, she became acutely aware of somethinge else. Her father would be arriving in town tonight, and would be wanting to find out where *she* was. Inwardly, she crossed her fingers and hoped that he didn't walk into her adjoining room...and she Lance's bag various other personals she hadn't had a chance to explain yet. She sighed to herself, possible for the fortieth time that day. I'll just tell him...it was for the relic. He's never said he *disapproved*...

Her feet settled finally on the ground, and she heard the beginnings of Lance following above her. She blinked slowly, catlike, adjusting her eyes to the lightless new surroundings. One more blink.

The salt crystals and sandy soil had formed all kinds of strange and lovely shapes. They were sparkling gently in tiny flecks of silver, white, and color to Guiliana's light-sensitive eyes. The cave stretched out before her, beckoning her to come forward and see more of this untouched, unreal sight.

..

Having walked some distance beside her companions in the dark, Guiliana was uncertain of how far they would need to go in order to reach their destination. While she was musing on this notion, along with the eminent arrival of her father, a gaping hole became visible before them. Guiliana stopped suddenly, her flailing arm catching Ben but not reaching Stephanie. Lance had been a few steps behind, and apparenly hearing the shuffling of feet, stopped himself in time.

Stephanie had gone straight down. Guiliana had heard the scumbling noise, and reached beside her to feel nothing but air. She made a muffled -suprise noise herself, eyes as wide as a deer in headlights; she felt the rush of air from behind her. She watched as Lance intentionally went down after Stephanie. She heard the second landing, and more scrambling. Fear started to creep up from her stomach into her diaphragm and heart. She waited.



“Hey, guys, I think she’s ok!” He roared up to Guiliana and Ben. His words were then force fed back to him by lapping water followed quickly by a howling scream and a thump.

"I guess there is only one way...down."

Guiliana turned, pretending to scale down the crumbling wall of this hole. If she could get out of sight of Ben, she could safely flap down. It would take Ben long enough to get down that he shouldn't be able to see her. The urgency to move toward that stone called her, dragged her forward. And leaving Stephanie of Lance behind would be to cold, even for this particular ice-queen.

She kept climbing down, until Ben's figure was dim. Just stretching her pair of wings, she let one foot off it's hold, and then the other. The air caught her stretched feathers as she plunged deeper into the bowels of this journey.

She landed roughly but sucessfully, and tucked herself back up properly. She couldn't tell if Ben was coming after them. Not that she would do anything to stop him...for all his bluster and bitching he didn't seem like a terrible person. Just not a terribly altruistic one.

And to her relief, Lance started yelling his head of again.

“Guiliana! Ben! Not to criticize you for not joining the ‘Jumping to potential Death’ club, but if you could pick up the pace a bit, it would be much appreciated! Steph’s Hurt. It doesn’t look too bad, but then again, I’m no doctor! You’re a treasure hunter, right Ben!? You must have a first aid kit or something in that bag of yours!”


Scooting quickly towards the sounds of splashing water and Lance's voice, Guiliana also instinctively reached into her bag and began to feel around. Band aid? No. Sudafed? No. Excedrin? Maybe. Handerchief? Could be useful. Hand sanatizer? Yup, there it is. I know this freaking interdimensional portal would come in handy sometime.

Guiliana finally set eyes on Lance, holding a wet, bedraggled Stephanie. She was bleeding...but appeared to be alive. At least well enough for now. As she approached, she reached elbow deep into her bag and addressed Lance.

"Here. I have a handkerchief and some hand sanitizer. We can at try to get her cleaned up a bit. Maybe Ben will have some proper bandages when he gets down here."

[RisingPhoenix]

Date: August 21st, 2042
Time: 2:00-3:00 PM
Location: Machu Pichu, Peru

Nicolai found the entire scene before him breathtaking. He had never been to such a place as this, and now here he was searching for some type of artifact. Little did he know how far deep in the rabbit hole he was treading. He was in danger, that much was certain, but what kind of danger? Slowly he turned to acknowledge Father Francis as the man began to speak. He followed him without question, his backpack the only weight he bore as he allowed his mind to go back to the research he had done before he left his home. The artifact was in the shape of a tear drop. It was beautiful as the picture depicted it, and Nicolai had thought at the time that it would be great piece to discover and place in a museum, but something else drove him to go and seek it, something within, perhaps an unseen factor.

He was silent the entire time Father Francis spoke, though he was very much enthused by the topics. It was when Father Francis opened the ancient tome and began to read that he found himself with goose bumps trailing up his arms. The entire incantation was eerie in a sense, and the sound of water running afterwards made Nicolai a little uneasy, but like a brave soldier, he continued on with the good Father Francis, and simply wondered what the next turn would bring.

“Where exactly are we going Father Francis?” Nicolai asked as he stumbled over loose rocks.

[~N~]

Date: August 21st, 2042
Time: 3:00 PM - Dusk
Location: Choquequirao, Peru

The city of Choquequiro rose towards the sky on the green peaks that it rested upon so easily.

http://www.inkanatura.com/images/choquequirao_hor_large13.jpg

To say it was breathtaking would clearly be a cliche understatement. "Choquequiro is perhaps known better as the 'Cradle of Gold', though its true richness lay in the ceremonial activities that went on here for centuries," Father Francis continued, taking the steps higher and higher into the walls of the ancient city. Looking over the next ridge, far below the sound of rushing water became clearer as the priest came to the edge and gazed down into the dizzying emerald abyss to the raging Apurimac River. "This was the center of worship for the mountain gods, as well as the River below," he explained.

"It is the river that provided the lifeblood to all that you see around us, and was the central part of what made this city seem like paradise to the Incas long, long ago."

The place was utter devoid of tourists. It seemed like no one even knew it was here, even though its history put it on the map even before Machu Pichu
itself. As he approached one of the stone buildings that looked larger and higher up than the others, Father Francis stopped and read the inscriptions on the side of the building which depicted the River God and the union with the Sky through the meeting of the peaks. The Sky rained down, in a flood reminiscent of the Biblical flood story--a story that was actually told in several different cultures that had no known contact with each other whatsoever, leading some researchers to believe that a "Flood" actually did happen at some point that these people might have recorded in their cultural memories.

Regardless, the Flood itself was symbolized by the Teardrop... or Raindrop. And it was this that drew Father Francis's attention.

"In here..." he said, leading Nicolai on.

When they arrived inside, the sun was setting, making it hard to read the inscriptions within. Father Francis squinted and traced along the pictorial murals, but shook his head, as though something was wrong.

"These... aren't like anything else in these ruins... they're...."

Just then, pressing his hand to depiction of the River God, something began to slide away beneath him, and the entire room ground with the moving of ancient gears.

The sound was not unlike that of rushing water, but it was definitely closer to sliding stones, and it didn't take more than a few seconds for Father Francis to realize the floor was shifting, angling, the entire floor of the room, then end closest to the door sliding up, while the end closest to the mural at the opposite side slid down by an inch or two per second.

Giving Nicolai a wide-eyed look and shutting up the heavy book, he said, stating the very obvious, "We have to get out of here!"

[~N~]

Date: August 20th
Time: 8:00 PM
Location: Sacred Valley, Interior of Peru

Stephanie he could understand. She had slipped, fallen, and was gone. And he thought he heard a distinctive splash of water a little while after. But then Lance leaped down after her. That took Ben by surprise. He hadn't realized they were lovers or anything. They didn't seem to be any more than acquaintances, and while Ben certainly understood the principles of going out of your way for a girl, jumping down strange pits to unseen depths in the middle of a cavern in goddamn Peru didn't exactly fit those principles. And here I am stuck with Guili--

And then she helped herself down as well! Christ! It was like they were all held together by some kind of goddamn rope or something and for a moment, Ben looked about his waist and wondered if in fact he was not invisibly tethered together with them!

No rope. Fuck. This would mean if he went down with them, it would have to be for some reason other than the ones they apparently had. They were apparently all together in this. He was the newcomer, the business partner, and he was quite sure they didn't give a rat's ass about him, even when Lance called up for both Guiliana and himself.

But what if they had found a short-cut? A secret cavern beneath the secret cavern? Who knew how many levels these caverns went for? How many rivers ran through them? Ben Frakes sighed. Christ, he thought to himself. Christ.

"I'm coming down," he announced at last, taking a look around him. He found a rock to tie his rope to, made the knot as secure as possible and then shook his head. Glancing about, he wondered if this was really the right way, or if this ridiculous girl had just screwed them up and gotten them off the path they needed to be on. After all, while he wasn't bothered by the caverns, he didn't know them, and he didn't know where they all led. Damn it. It wasn't as if he could just pull out his smartphone and map the fucking way to the Teardrop through this goddamn subterranean maze.

Grumbling and muttering, he dropped the rope over the edge and lowered himself down with surer footing and more cautious awareness than the other three morons had. Unfortunately, about half way down the crevice, just as he was beginning to see the water below, he ran out of rope. "Fuck!" he cursed again to himself.

"Guys. I'm out of rope. I'm dropping down." I can't believe I'm fucking doing this. Holding onto the rope with a shot of fear in his eyes and glancing down beneath him one last time, he closed his eyes and let go. It's water, right? This shouldn't be too bad...

SPLOOOOOSH!!

http://smoont.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/07/10-incredible-underground-lakes-and-rivers-7.jpg

Ben Frakes hit a hard bottom and groaned underwater as he came back up for air.

"FUCK!" he cried out. "Goddamn it, that hurt!" He rose up out of the water, holding his right side. "I think I cracked a fucking rib. Jesus Christ!"

He shook himself for a moment and looked about him, and soon found the three, Lance and Guiliana administering first-aid to their stupid friend who had fallen down here in the first place of her own accord.

"So where the fuck are we," he said to no one in particular, taking in the scene before him. He looked around, and noticed that while at first glance this appeared to be some kind of pool, he narrowed his eyes and could see that it was actually fed from a trickling tributary coming somewhere off to the far end of the cavern. But it was the glow at the center of this pool that drew his attention before long.

"What... is that..." he muttered again, favoring his side, approaching it and ignoring the comments and concerns of the other three companions.

He waved his hand tentatively through the water, the glow sending a sensation through him that was indescribable. His eyes widened a second time and he whispered, "We're on the right path."

This was enchanted water, and the glow... was residual. It came from a source. The source. "We're on the right path!" he announced with a smile and an echo. He turned back to them, excitement lighting up his features with that same glow, giving him a haunting look of manic disposition as though someone were holding a flashlight beneath his face in the dark.

"Come on. We need to keep moving."

[~N~]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 4 -4:30 AM
LOCATION: Unknown cavern below Bran Castle, Romania

Then with a hushed swish, the tail of the rope dropped from above like a slack, serpentine tongue from the toothed mouth of a lamprey. There was a gritting noise and soon the Scotsman rappelled down into view, dangling just below the mouth of the cavern chimney with his boots propped to the wall.

“…one at a time,” he husked. “Ah'll haul ye up if ye cannae climb.” Then the overshadowed, black sockets of his eyes turned on the doctor.

“…ye first, Fynn.”

TJ decided he wouldn't be the last to go and backed up again. If anyone was going to have even half a chance of holding this point, it would be him. Maybe the Scotsman, Gihst, preternaturally skilled as he was at all things... oddly survival related. So far he had seen him sniff the air like a dog, talk in tongues nobody could understand, and move his body up the chimney-like shaft with an agility and musculature that could be described as anything but human.

And then of course there were the lingering questions: Was Dr. Fynn's story legit? Or was he here on the inside working for the FBI? As the doctor moved towards Gihst, TJ began to wonder if it wouldn't be better just to shoot the good doctor right now and end any possibility that he could be leading them all into a goddamn trap.

It sounded like a fair idea. He pulled his hefty Colt 1911 pistol from its holster and aimed it at Dr. Fynn. "So you just happened to get away. And she left you. That makes her willing to leave anyone else for herself, and you just happen to think we should all forget about your association with the FBI who just happen to be breathing down our necks here at the Castle?"

"I'm done. I don't want anything to do with you people. Tansy, I don't feel like I can trust you from one minute to the next, and Gihst, you're a fool if you think that the gun isn't better aimed at Dr. Fynn here. I say you should give him back up to the Feds and the rest of us should get the hell out of here and go our own way. I know I am."

"But no, here I am, stuck with protecting both of you... ALL of you, and taking shit from you," he aimed the gun at Gihst, "and I'm supposed to just be fine with all of it."

He then swiveled his aim next to Tansy. "I'm going before you. The Doctor is going first, and I'm going next." Glancing back at Gihst, "And I don't know what the fuck you are, but I don't need your help. I've done my share of PT and I can scale that surface just fine. Maybe not like you, but I can handle myself.

You three are on your own. I'm sorry I ever even met you, Tansy. You've been nothing but secrets and lies from the start. We all have 'em, but I wouldn't trust you in a firefight for anything. The Dog here is just as likely to disappear, and your doctor friend... well, I wouldn't be surprised if he just hands you over. You don't know that anything he said is true at all."

He moved his aim back to Dr. Fynn. "One thing they teach in the Marines is how not to miss. So I'm going to give you some simple orders. Tansy, get his gun and toss it next to me. Since I don't trust any of you, and since I'm the only one here besides the Scot that doesn't seem to be full of shit, I'll be keeping the firearms. When we get to the top, I'm going my own way, and you can figure out what you're going to do without them."

"At this point, you're lucky to have me. If Agents come through there, even if they are wearing vests, believe me, taking a few shots with one of those isn't a pleasant experience. It'll make them think twice facing someone who actually knows how to use a gun."

"Move it. Get Dr. Fynn up there. Then you come back down, and I'll go next, on my own. You stay down here with Tansy and bring her up last, got it, Scotty?"

What seemed to be a tense situation before was nothing compared to what it was now.

[~N~]

DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 8:00-8:30 PM
LOCATION: Metro 43, Moscow, Russia.

The Russian police officer made another call approximately an hour later.

"Get me Yuri."

"Petrynko? Yuri isn't available right now for calls," came a surprised green voice on the other end.

"Kristoff, get me Yuri, now. It's urgent."

"Why can't you tell me?"

"KRISTOFF."

"Okay okay! Give me a second."

"Where are we Petrinko."

"Securing the station now. Perimeters. Just like you said. All access should be gated off and the tunnels in and out are being closed. We're calling it construction. Works for Americans, why not here?"

"Good. Have you detected activity in the station?"

"No, the last of the commuters are being shut out now. The trains will not even be running through the tunnels. Everything is sealed off Yuri."

"Good."

"May I ask what this is for, Yuri?"

"Petrinko, I can only tell you this comes from the KGB direct from Kremlin. They seem to indicate that some kind of terrorist activity may be present in the station, some rumors have it being a bomb. Honestly, I don't know, I just do what I'm told, and so should you."

"Yes, sir."

"Petrinko," Yuri paused, "You'll receive a promotion for this. You've done good work."

"Thank you, sir."

"I'll contact you if and when we need you and your men to move."

Click.

************************************************** ******

DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 8:00-8:30 PM
LOCATION: Outside of Metro Station 40, Moscow, Russia.

"They closed the fucking trains down going any further to Station 43!" Vincenzo said, coming back across the station throwing up his hands.

"Whadd'ere we gonna do, Vincent?" Big Tony replied in his raised Italian voice.

"Hush your mouth, Tone!" the other man replied, gesturing with his arms in a downward motion.

"Hush my mouth? HUSH MY FUCKING MOUTH?! WHAT THE FUCK, VINCENT! YOU SAID YOU HAD DIS!" Tony shot back.

"I swear to god, look around you, goddamn it!" More sweeping gestures. "Cops fucking everywhere. You know what they do to you here in Russia when you're arrested? You can just fucking forget about a fair trial! No come with me."

Tony glanced about, realizing the danger, but still super hot about Vincent's order. He came with him only because it was quite obviously the only option left to him. "You better have somethin' Vince or I'm going to break your fucking balls open right here in front of the whole goddamn station and I don't give two fucks who sees or cares!" he threatened in as hushed a voice as you might imagine an angry Italian mob boss using.

"Listen. They stopped the fuckin' trains, but..." Vincent looked around, making sure nobody was listening, "They haven't blocked the fuckin' tunnels. Too much trouble and it hasn't occurred to their thick fuckin' brains that you can always walk through them."

Tony stopped up short. "You want us to walk?" Big Tony was already perspiring and his eyes widened. Frankie put his hands on his hips and took a few deep breaths, looking at Vincent, who was in better shape than either of the two American mobsters.

"Yeah!" Vincent replied after a moment's pause, glancing back and forth at them. "It's what the people going to Metro 43 are doing. The others... they'll cause shit in the other stations to distract the police."

"Fuckin' clever Vince, except for the fuckin' walking part!" Tony replied, clearly unhappy about getting a little exercise.

"C'mon, Tone. Two stations. Not that far. We should just make it. This way..."

Vincent led them down into a secret walkway that hugged the wall of the train tunnels. It would be unsafe if the trains were actually running, but since they weren't, it hid even the obese American gangsters well as they started huffing and puffing to Station 43...

http://www.solis.darkpassage.com/below/newyork/17%20-%20Subway%20Tunnel.jpg

[~N~]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 6 AM - 8 AM
LOCATION: Nekhen, Egypt.


The sun was just peaking over the horizon as she stepped foot onto the dusty soil beneath her feet, musing out loud and shaking her head in amazement “Ancient history….” Then taking the professors arm she smiled brightly “And to think, we could actually be making history before this journey ends” she said in a quiet voice, laced with excitement.

"Welcome to the ruins of Nekhen," Professor Langdon announced as he stepped off the ferry with Shiloh on his arm. An older Egyptian man greeted them at the docks, with a gray thin scraggly beard and spectacles.

"Haji Deyab, it has been a long time!" Langdon greeted the man, shaking hands with him cordially.

"Indeed, Professor Langdon. Indeed it has. What brings you to these parts? I had no notice of your coming? And who is this woman?" the older man's eyes slid over Shiloh's body, though she couldn't tell from his thin lipped expression whether he approved or not of her.

"This," he motioned to Shiloh, "is Miss Shiloh Thompson. She is with me for a visit to the Tomb of Horus."

"It is an ancient place, Langdon. I need not tell you that; I know you realize this. I will take you to it, but I cannot let her go in," Haji shook his head in disapproval.

Langdon moved to try to mollify his fears. "Haji, she has uncovered particular information that may indicate the location of a particular artifact of importance that has eluded us. We believe it to be buried here, in the Tomb. If I thought otherwise, believe me, I wouldn't have come at all."

"I have no doubt, and I will allow you to go, but she stays here," Haji insisted.

"She needs to come. It is her find, and she is a research associate with me," Langdon lied.

Haji narrowed his eyes.

"Where are her credentials?"

"Please, Haji. You must trust me..."

"I do, Dr. Langdon, I do. I just don't trust her." He eyed Shiloh again.

"If anything happens, you may charge it upon me," Langdon insisted.

"In this country, in these ruins, that could be a heavy charge indeed, Dr. Langdon," Haji warned. "It could mean more than your banishment from this country."

Langdon nodded with a heavy sigh. "I know."

"Come with me," Haji relented, eyeing Shiloh threateningly.

*******************************************

When they came to the entrance, it didn't look like much. It was not a pyramid at all, not even one of the smaller step pyramids. What greeted them was a classical mastaba tomb, of the kind seen in the oldest parts of the ancient Egyptian kingdoms.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/ancient/egyptians/images/pyramid_gallery_mastaba.jpg

Yet, what lay above the ground was, like an iceberg, just a fraction of what lay beneath this particular tomb. "Beneath all other mastaba tombs is usually a singular passage or two, where the Pharaoh and his family were kept," Haji informed them, more for Shiloh's sake than Dr. Langdon's. He handed them a folded up diagram that he had of the kind of passages one might normally expect to find:

http://library.thinkquest.org/CR0212362/images/mastaba.gif

"In this tomb, we believe the remains of a Pharaoh, who might have been related to Horus and Osiris and Isis, is buried, and the passages number six that have not collapsed, though there are at least three that are impassable. The air is difficult to breathe, so you will need oxygen."

He handed them both miniature tanks that contained air, in the event that it became difficult to breathe. "The hieroglyphs along passage number six are more ancient and intricate than the others, and they lead to three chambers below, which each contain depictions of Horus, Osiris, Isis, and Set." He trembled at the mention of the last god's name. "That Set should be depicted at all is unusual, and he is not depicted in the same way, but it is surely him, watching over the remains from the darkness with eyes like a jackal..."

His voice took on a tone of foreboding and dread. "The chambers themselves are not lit. They are kept in darkness, save for the artificial light sources that we use which do not damage any of the art and relics inside." He took hold of the professor's arm, "Please, Dr. Langdon, do not touch anything. It is all too fragile."

Then he turned to both of them. "I wish you good fortune and luck on what you are searching for. Return here and inform me when or if you find anything. I will go no further."

[Koti~]

Time: Unknown
Date: Unknown
Location: Unknown

She floated in what seemed a sea of darkness, warmth spreading through her body like honey, clinging to her skin and rippling around her. She just laid there, her chest unmoving as her eyes stared into the abyss…

Unmoving…


Unchanging…


Unending…

...Something changed in her world, a rippling that was not created by her own thought. Her cheek flushed as some of the water splashed onto her cheek. Her hand slowly raised, pulling up drops of the water that cascaded down her arm, leaving trails of the strange liquid on her arm, rivulets of the liquid. Resting her hand on her cheek, she could feel heat coming off of it, still stinging her body.

The thought soon faded from her mind though, as her arm slowly drifted downwards back into the water, barely disturbing the water as her arm slid into the water, the ripples slowly returning to normal…

Silent…


Warm…


Bliss…


…The water raised up again, slapping against her head, making her sit up right, water gripping her hair like a forgotten child, dragging it with her. The pain persisted, pressed right against the side of her head, making her bellow out in a silent screech as the water continued to pull, threatening to pull her down into its murky surface, to silence her scream. Her body slowly slid in, unable to fight against the water as she sank, vainly flailing her arms to try to break…

Date: August 20th
Time: 8:15 PM
Location: Sacred Valley, Interior of Peru


“…free?” Her eyes flooded with light as the world came into focus, the sting having died down some as her chest began to move up and down, the damp air of the cave and the slightly watery moisture mingling and mixing as she breathed in, making her aware of the sounds around her. But something was off; she seemed to be receiving all of this as though viewing it through a second screen. The world seemed sharper, more focused, as well as something else that made itself known rather soon.

“I can’t move my body!” Evalon mentally shouted, which reverberated within her head, making her flinch inward in pain, the silence dying down.

“I can’t even move my hand enough to get this idiot away from me!” Evalon said, taking note of the man in front of her, pressing something against her head, which was causing the sting. Something though clicked, the second her voice echoed through her head, and she watched in fascination as Stephanie’s hand raised up to wrap her slightly tanned fingers around Lance’s arm, pulling a bit on the fabric encasing his arm.

“Well, that works, but how do I make her speak, though walking seems fine…Maybe…” Evalon thought to herself, the idea springing to her head as Stephanie’s hand hung there, weakly holding onto Lances clothing….

“That… that really hurts” Stephanie said, her words dribbling over them in slight incoherence. She looked over at Ben, who seemed ecstatic about something he found out about the water. She smiled, pulling her legs under her and braced herself against the wall, groggily standing like she had been sitting for hours. She headed over to the water, moving awkwardly at first, but was soon walking normally. Peering into the water, she looked at the slight blood trail on the side of her head, the crumpled look of her hair, and her still hazelnut eyes.

“Wow… I still look like Stephanie, sound like her, and feel like her as well…. No wonder why I feel like shit~” Evalon said mentally to herself, groaning again in slight pain.

“So… this is the path to the tear drop…thingie?” Stephanie asked, looking a bit nervously at the water, the memory of what happened the first time she had entered the water. Bending down, she dipped her fingers into the water, small ripples emanating from her fingertips as water clung to her nails. The water shimmered, but nothing happened this time, other than the slight shimmer from the some mineral below.

“And … sorry for any trouble I caused” Stephanie said, trailing her fingers in the water, a slight blush coating her cheeks, looking away from the others.

“Good god this is freaky… Kinda like controlling a puppet. Though… this means I can do anything, and they won’t suspect anything wrong with her, just shaken up from the spill. I can think of so many uses for this, but I’ll play it cool for right now…” Evalon thought to herself, tapping her fingers together slowly.

[Kris]

"From heavens, to the depths of the earth, there she is heading.
The goddess, from heavens, to the depths of the earth, there she is heading.
Inanna, from heavens, to the depths of the earth, there she is heading
My lady, (she is) abandoning the heaven, (she is) abandoning the earth, descending to hell.
Inanna, (she is) abandoning the heaven, (she is) abandoning the earth, descending to hell."

My own free translation from the epic: "Inanna's descent to the underworld".


***


DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 20:00-20:30 PM
LOCATION: Outside of Metro 43 and Metro 26, Moscow, Russia.


Sarina was chewing on a cheap machine bought salami sandwich while sitting, legs crossed, on a bench not far from some public park. It was already dark around her, nothing but drunk men and the usual homeless punks. The cold was terrible to handle at this hour and Sarina shivered helplessly, her nose already red as she dug her hands around a warm plastic cup of coffee.

On her lap was her small computer, resting safely like a lover between her entangled thighs, the screen waving weakly from lack of power. Sarina knew the battery was running low by now, but sadly, that "policeman" did little service to her. She hoped the hacking program was indeed working and that man, Yuri, just didn't use his phone in the last couple of hours or so.

She kept looking around her, switching her gaze from the screen of her precious laptop to the surrounding, for it was not so safe to be outside this late in this country, at least that's what Cassandra always told her, and now Sarina was on her own, alone in the dark, so to say, the more reason for her to be alerted and aware to what's around her.

While taking a quick sip of the hot drink she almost spilled it all over when she noticed the text that was sent to her E-mail. She got up, shoving her laptop to her bag and throwing both the cup and the half eaten sandwich into a green recycle can she happened to pass by while still rushing, as quick as could, for the station of metro 43, where the call was detected from.

"Orders from the KGB in direct from Kremlin, my ass", Sarina chuckled, feeling somewhat victorious, "It had to be Victor... haha.... So Yuri was my man after all...".

She ran and ran for a short while before she halted, taking the time to breath and curse.

Damn.

It was true, the cops were all over the place.

No matter where she looked, men and women in blue patrolled and secured the place, not letting people pass. She heard some of them complaining about the fact they needed to get home or be somewhere else, but all the officers did to answer their cries was to say that the trains were canceled until further notice. Something about possible terrorism.

Sarina's face lose color.

What would she do now? She was so close and there was no way for her to draw near the place. Looking at the station in sight she realized she needed to get in there, one way or another.

Wait....

[...The trains will not even be running through the tunnels...]

....

amm....



***


DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 20:45 PM
LOCATION: Tunnels leading for Metro 43, Moscow, Russia.


Descending...

While slowly leaving the cold surface of the icy country, in favor of the warm tunnel below the earth, Sarina couldn't help but think how symbolic this descent was; In many cultures there were tales of how spring was to be replaced with winter, all had to do with actions from above entangling with the affairs below the earth.

Many are the legends and myths the ancients tried to explain the switching of the seasons with. Some told the story of a defeated god of fertility; another pictured tragically how fair beautiful goddess of spring was to be abduct and rapped by a cold god from the underworld.

Only one tale told about a goddess who willingly descent to the depth of the earth in order to get more power. Her name was "Inanna" in some cultures she was known as "Anat" or "Ishtar". It was a Sumerian Myth of how the beautiful goddess of war and love wanted to try and gain a power which was not hers to have to begin with. Greed, curiosity and maybe a test for how powerful could she be, were the reasons that drove the most powerful goddess of heaven to the realms of her sister, Ereshkigal, the queen of the darkness.

Along each part of her journey Inanna, the fair goddess, was tricked to give something up in order to pass by each and every gate on her way further and further into hell.

Sarina couldn't help but wonder how much she gave up already on her short journey; First her job when she decided to head for this hopeless mission. Then her close friend, Cassandra and Terence, who had the potential to be a new important person in her life. She then willingly burnt her notes and drawings which she spend so much time and effort on. She didn't even carry her camera anymore these days. Later she gave up on her innocence when she started to interact more closely with Anatoliy, until finally breaking her own boundaries when she lost to her own desires, when she realized she wanted to surrender to them and spent the night with the man...

And now... now...

Well, not much was left aside of her own life to give at this point...

The goddess Inanna arrived in hell, but realized all too late that without her dresses and her holy items that she was helpless. The minions of hell killed her on the spot and she was to be left there forever...

Sarina walked on the train's rails, feeling the metal below her feet as she tried to make her way along it, using her phone to light her dark path as substitute for a flashlight.

Sarina shivered; Not only because it was starting to get colder down the tunnel, but because she still feared she would meet something along her way. Be it a train or a person, Sarina knew she wouldn't be able to do much to face it.

And yet she continued to walk, her steps gentle and weak, but still steady and firmed.

For a suitable price, the goddess, Inanna, survived and ascend back to heaven.

But Sarina was a mortal woman.

Would she be so lucky?

[Mysteria]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 8:00 AM
LOCATION: Nekhen, Egypt.

"Welcome to the ruins of Nekhen," Professor Langdon announced as he stepped off the ferry with Shiloh on his arm. An older Egyptian man greeted them at the docks, with a gray thin scraggly beard and spectacles.

"Haji Deyab, it has been a long time!" Langdon greeted the man, shaking hands with him cordially.

"Indeed, Professor Langdon. Indeed it has. What brings you to these parts? I had no notice of your coming? And who is this woman?" the older man's eyes slid over Shiloh's body, though she couldn't tell from his thin lipped expression whether he approved or not of her.

Upon exiting the boat Professor Langdon was met by a gentleman who was an old acquaintance of his whose eyes drank Shiloh in but he said nothing further until the professor provided him with a reply.

"This," he motioned to Shiloh, "is Miss Shiloh Thompson. She is with me for a visit to the Tomb of Horus."

Shiloh nodded an acknowledgement to the older gentleman as he spoke although he did not return the gesture in kind but merely continued speaking to the professor as though she were not even present.

"It is an ancient place, Langdon. I need not tell you that; I know you realize this. I will take you to it, but I cannot let her go in," Haji shook his head in disapproval.

As the elderly man spoke Shiloh’s grip on the professor’s arm tightened. What had begun as merely an act of curiosity that stemmed from her love of heirlooms, antiques, and archaeology had quickly turned into a mission filled with purpose for the young entertainer. She had to get inside. The professor, sensing her concern immediately acted to counter Haji’s disapproval.

Langdon moved to try to mollify his fears. "Haji, she has uncovered particular information that may indicate the location of a particular artifact of importance that has eluded us. We believe it to be buried here, in the Tomb. If I thought otherwise, believe me, I wouldn't have come at all."

"I have no doubt, and I will allow you to go, but she stays here," Haji insisted.

"She needs to come. It is her find, and she is a research associate with me," Langdon lied.

Without even realizing it Shiloh’s grip became vice like upon the professors arm and upon realizing it she forced herself to relax her grip as to not leave the professor bruised. Sensing the urgency of the situation the professor made a move that Shiloh would have protested had she the opportunity. It had only taken a few seconds for the lie to be spilled. Shiloh remained silent, staring the man in the eyes and never flinching. She couldn’t allow him to see that anything was other than exactly what the professor had told him.



After a few more words were exchanged between the two and a few more questioning glances were thrown her way, Haji finally relented under the professor’s persistent prompting.

"Come with me," Haji relented, eyeing Shiloh threateningly.

Shiloh allowed herself a sigh of relief as the man said the words after what had seemed to her to be hours of bantering back and forth between professor and acquaintance despite the fact that it had in actuality been only a few brief moments. The elderly gentleman led them to what appeared to Shiloh to be a miniature version of a pyramid type building without the pyramidion on top. Haji quickly explained that what they were about to enter was a building that contained what was possibly tombs of a pharaoh and his family known as a mastaba tomb.

While Shiloh had heard of such tombs before she was more familiar with the more well known Pyramids, such as the Pyramids of Giza. This structure surely hadn’t taken an estimated two to three thousand workers nor had it taken eighty years to build but all the same it was magnificent to her and she felt as though she were about to take a journey back in time as they were led to the entrance where Haji stopped and began speaking again, handing her a diagram of what type of typical layout they could expect within the tomb.

Haji knew his ancient Egyptian history well, and Shiloh at least admired the man for that since Egyptian history was one of her favorite archeological topics of choice.

"In this tomb, we believe the remains of a Pharaoh, who might have been related to Horus and Osiris and Isis, is buried, and the passages number six that have not collapsed, though there are at least three that are impassable. The air is difficult to breathe, so you will need oxygen."

Accepting the oxygen tank from the man Shiloh offered him a smile but at the mention of the pharaohs thought to be buried in this particular tomb possibly being related to one of several Egyptian deities, her ears perked up and a rather odd sensation shot through her very core.

"The hieroglyphs along passage number six are more ancient and intricate than the others, and they lead to three chambers below, which each contain depictions of Horus, Osiris, Isis, and Set." He trembled at the mention of the last god's name. "That Set should be depicted at all is unusual, and he is not depicted in the same way, but it is surely him, watching over the remains from the darkness with eyes like a jackal..."

Horus, Isis, Set, Osiris, all names which Shiloh knew well. Horus was the God of war and also of protection. He was claimed to have conquered Set and to have been the son of Isis and Osiris, depending on which myth you chose to believe. Isis, who was also Set’s sister was said to have stopped Horus from killing Set and instead, Horus spared Set’s life.

Set was the God of deserts and storms who had tried to trick Horus and prove his dominance over him by lying to the elder gods and saying that he had intercourse with him, but it was Horus that tricked Set, and was proven to have had intercourse with Set although the truth was, that he never did.


Shiloh’s attention was drawn immediately back to Haji when his tone of voice changed then.

"The chambers themselves are not lit. They are kept in darkness, save for the artificial light sources that we use which do not damage any of the art and relics inside." He took hold of the professor's arm, "Please, Dr. Langdon, do not touch anything. It is all too fragile."

"I wish you good fortune and luck on what you are searching for. Return here and inform me when or if you find anything. I will go no further."

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 8:00 AM
LOCATION: Nekhen, Egypt at the mastaba tomb.


Haji left them then and finally, Shiloh shook his hand and thanked him, after assuring him that they would return to him with any information that they found.

Making certain that they were equipped with the oxygen tanks that Haji had provided for them Shiloh and the professor moved cautiously down the dimly lit corridor that led them to the interior of the tombs burial chambers. Once far enough into the tomb and safely away from Haji Shiloh motioned for the professor to stop. Within seconds and with the simple word “light” being whispered from Shiloh’s lips, a rather soft glowing light appeared, streaming from Shiloh’s fingertips. Turning to the professor she grinned “As you can see, some of my” she hesitated, almost stumbling over the words because although she had accepted it, she still found it hard to speak out loud but she continued “powers, come in handy” she finished.

Moving slowly through the narrow corridor Shiloh focused the light along the wall, looking over the hieroglyphics that remained there, some of which were familiar to her and others that were literally like trying to read Greek to her. Her eyes fell upon a faded symbol that was barely discernible anymore but with the light focused directly on it she could make it out enough to draw the professors attention to it as she froze in her tracks “Professor, isn’t this (http://en.wikipedia.org/w/extensions/wikihiero/img/hiero_G5.png)…” her questioning voice trailed off as the professor was already responding to her “Yes, I believe it is, bring the light closer.” As he pulled a pair of reading glasses from his pocket she moved the light and stepped back out of his way so that he could get a better view of the symbol she had indicated to him. She focused the light into a beam as her energy poured into it, brightening it as she heard him exclaim “Yes, Yes it is Shiloh! It’s the symbol for Horus.”

Shiloh’s excitement was ever growing, but her attention was momentarily drawn away as she caught a shimmer of soft glowing golden light, a light that was familiar to her, moving in the corridor. Shiloh’s breath caught in her throat as she questioned the professor “Thomas, did you see that?”

“Yes, the passing years have faded it but it is indeed what you thought it was, and do you see here?” The professor pointed a few inches above the glyph to another symbol, that of The Eye of Horus.

Shiloh turned for a split second, almost dismissing the professors find “Yes I see that professor but did you see that, down there” She said the words pointing the illuminated fingers in the direction from where she saw the glowing light a few second earlier.

The professor shook his head in obvious confusion “No, Shiloh, I didn’t see anything. What are you talking about my dear?”

Another wisp of movement, a flicker of glowing light caught her eye just then and she grabbed the professor’s arm, gripping it tightly. “This way professor! It’s this way!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement as she moved down the corridor to follow the light.

“But Shiloh” the professor protested “I don’t see anything.”

“Don’t ask me to explain Professor, not now. We have to go now, this way.” She persisted as she along with the professor in tow descended deeper into the depths of the mastaba tomb. Although Shiloh was beginning to feel unexplainably queasy all of a sudden she pressed forward regardless “Use caution professor, but we must hurry.”

As the glow rounded a turn in the tunnel, she followed it but stopped for a moment as she began to feel rather light headed. She caught her breath as the professor questioned her, his voice filled with concern “Shiloh, are you okay?”

Shiloh straightened herself and replied “I’m fine; it must just be like Haji mentioned- lack of air.” The soft glow that was invisible to the professor moved from the main corridor into a smaller side corridor to their right so Shiloh led Langdon to where the light was leading her.

Micah. It had to be Micah guiding her.

Entering a small, dark room she stopped short. Other than a holding a few broken pieces of pottery that had been tagged and laid out neatly in a row the room was empty save a few benches, boxes, an opening in the floor which had Shiloh not felt a cool draft rising from it, she may have well fell into. Along with the draft was something else, something inexplicable to her but yet she couldn’t place the source. With the added excitement she brightened the room with her power so they could see better. The last thing she wanted was for the professor to be hurt, he was already doing more than enough for her. That concern only added to her nauseous feeling and she gripped her oxygen tank tighter although she remained too thrilled at the thought of the unknown to bother with putting it on.

She leaned against the wall for support as she studied the opening, the professors voice breaking the silence “Shiloh, are you quite certain you are okay?” His voice was grave and filled with concern for the young singer he accompanied. “We should leave and come back when you feel better, or maybe you should at least put your mask on?”

Her expression changed then, along with her tone of voice. “No no, I’m fine.” She insisted as she stepped to the edge of the shaft that led to a lower level. “We’ve got to get down there but damn it there is no ladder.” Her voice was filled with disappointment as her eyes scanned the room for anything they could use. Of course, she could fly but she wasn’t sure that she was even ready to allow anyone else see her doing that yet. She began looking around frantically behind benches and boxes when she felt the professor’s hand on her arm. “Shiloh, stop this. We can’t get down there and we don’t know what’s down there.” He was persistent “It could be dangerous.” The professor had become adamant that they continued no further.

She jerked free of his grasp then, her voice slightly agitated as she snapped “NO professor, we have to get down there. Don’t you understand?” She said the words as she grabbed him by the shoulders rather roughly, then stopped as she realized what she had done.

“Professor, I’m sorry.” Her tone had softened considerably.

What was she doing? Was she really willing to risk the professor after all, he was her friend, her father’s friend and furthermore, he’d put his ass on the line with Haji for her. She loosened her grip, shame flooding her face as she thought about how her reactions would have appeared to the professor. Would he think her as crazy as Isaac had appeared to be when he’d suffered his attack or whatever the hell it had been?

She looked though the dimly lit room, her eyes catching his “Professor, please, you have to trust me on this. We must” the emphasize fell fully on the word must and was undeniable as it echoed throughout the room “get down there somehow” she stated, her voice filled with determination. “We are so close now, I can feel it.”

She directed the light back down into the shaft. It didn’t look too deep but deep enough that to jump would be too dangerous for both her and the professor, and possibly to any artifacts that they might land on. She made her decision then. It was time for her to allow the professor to see the full extent of her capabilities. Her eyes pleaded with him then as the words slipped again from her mouth “Professor, I need you to trust me, don’t be afraid. I can get us down there.”

With those words Shiloh took a step back and within the soft glow of the room, two phantasmal looking wings appeared on either side of her. The wings were almost completely clear, appearing to be made out of water as they fluttered lightly, in essence looking to be but mere shadows that moved like waves rippling across the ocean.

The professors eyes widened slightly as Shiloh’s wings appeared yet he being a man of logic and reason had already long ago decided that while what Shiloh had told him back in Cairo seemed to unrealistic to be true, he would believe her. She stepped towards him, holding him by the waist and saying “Hang on” as she spread her wings and flew them to the landing beneath them. Once their feet were firmly planted on the floor, her wings faded away and she released him. She looked at the professor, searching for any sign that he was frightened of her but found none. She knew he would have more questions for her, but they would have to wait. The sudden pull of some unknown force hit her like a ton of bricks and as the sensation washed over her the professor moved to her side, sensing that something was wrong.

“Shiloh, what is it, what’s wrong?”

Shiloh smiled then “Wrong? Nothing’s wrong professor. Everything is right. We are getting closer.” She moved then, once again providing light for them. This room was filled in the front with art, small statues, and boxes that lined the wall. It almost appeared to be a storage room of some stort. Further in the back against the wall was a few boulders and some rubble that looked to have been dumped there, perhaps during part of the excavation process. Feeling a pull towards a bolder in the very back of the room her face brightened then as she moved to it. “Here professor, help me.” She said as she began to very carefully slide it to the side, the professor helping her.

Once it was moved far enough for her to see behind the light glowing from her hands revealed to them a narrow passage into the wall. Both Shiloh and the professor crawled through the short opening and found themselves in another room, a room that was quickly recognizable as a burial chamber. A sarcophagus, which had been surrounded by all sorts of finery and offerings which was customary for the elite of Egypt to be buried with rested against the very back of the room, supporting the idea that the tomb could be that of a pharaoh.

Shiloh gripped the professors hand, steadying herself. It was here. What they had been searching for was here, she could sense it. But where? Slowly and cautiously she followed the pull she felt emanating from some unknown source inside of her and it led her to the sarcophagus. As they neared it a glint of light caught her eye.

There wasn’t enough of room for the professor to squeeze his hand behind the tomb of whatever exact Pharaoh it was, if indeed it was a Pharaohs sarcophagus she did not know, but her own hand fit. The moment her hand touched the box Shiloh felt different somehow. When she stood with the box in her hand she offered it to the professor. She had promised she wouldn’t touch anything, and she’d already broken that promise by even retrieving the box. As a sign of respect for the man who had done so much for her already and to fulfill her promise, she handed Professor Thomas Langdon the box.

As the professor took the box from Shiloh’s shaking hands he stopped, regarding her with odd curiosity but said nothing as he opened the box. Shiloh’s breath drew sharp as a the amber colored jewel resembling a dragons eye came into view, but her attention was drawn back to the professor’s face when she heard him gasping, his eyes wide open and staring at her as though he were looking upon a ghost.

“Professor?” Shiloh whispered.

Little did Shiloh know that the professor was now not just staring at the woman who had stood in front of him mere seconds ago lighting the room with the soft glow from her fingers, but that his gaze had indeed fallen upon a woman who had bright ribbons of light now streaming from her fingers and who also appeared to have an aura surrounding her, something that he could only have described as being angelic in appearance.

[Rook]

Date: August 20th
Time: 8:15 PM
Location: Sacred Valley, Interior of Peru

Stephanie weakly gripped his arm and he halted dabbing the wound, and just looked down at her.

Not exactly a frail thing is she?

She backed away and helped herself to her feet. Lance had the impulse to help, but seeing if she could manage it would certainly show whether or not she was up to continuing their journey. She clearly was.

Yeah, definitely not frail. After the fact, Ben’s words finally sunk in.

He was exhilarated. He was nervous. But most of all? He was pissed off. Without a second thought, he stormed up behind the group’s newest addition, and with a firm hand, clasped down on his shoulder, and pulled him around to look him in the eye.

“Great job there Benny! Good show of basic human nature! And even better a show of how trustworthy you are. Clearly, you’re just a bit more interested in your own personal goals than the common well being of the people assisting you in your endeavor. Thank god you’re a corporate pig and not a doctor. Otherwise we’d have a whole lot of sick people praying your fucking TiVo didn’t suddenly stop working in February. After all what’s a human life if you have to miss the Super Bowl, right?!”

He was shaking. Lance didn’t have a clue what set him off more. The fact that Ben hadn’t just ignored a wounded girl to prattle on about his own self motivated crap, or the fact that he’d proven the fact that he was there to get what was his, and was planning on using them until they ran out of use, and then likely abandoning them.

But maybe moreso, Lance could sense that Ben may have been just a bit more ruthless in his want for this rock than he was. Lance felt threatened. So threatened in fact, that his mind began to race.

“If he’ll let an innocent bystander, someone that has literally nothing to gain from getting their hands on this stone, simply lie on the ground bleeding, possibly dying while he rants about victory being at hand, what the hell does he have in store for me and Guiliana… I don’t know what she wants it for, but the woman didn’t just lead us into a cave out of intrigue… No, she’s got a stake in this… And if she and Stephanie are like me, and at least two of the three are hunting the same thing… It’d be a safe bet to assume Ben isn’t a normal human either… Which means…”

Lance fierce scowl dropped, as did his hand. He stepped back, and just stared, a furious glint in his eye, waiting for Ben to own up, so he could read his reaction.

[~N~]

DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 8:00-9:00 PM
LOCATION: Outside of Metro Station 43, Moscow, Russia.

Victor supervised the work going on a Station 43. It was like excavation, right in the center of the station beneath a rather artistic mosiac tile depiction of Nikita Kruschev dressed in the garb of a Tsar. Very postmodern. It would be missed, but if something did disturb his work, it would provide ample explanation for the destruction his own men caused. A perfect scapegoat to heap the sins of his own people on. However, nothing and no one had disrupted his work or his men for the past hour. Things were going smoothly.

And then shots rang out, echoing through the tunnels and off the walls.

"FUCK!" Victor cried out, "Get to cover!"

Boris and Victor both dropped into the pit they had dug out in the center of the station, getting out of the range of stray shots while pulling out their own guns and looking to take out anything they didn't recognize.

Two tunnels and four entrances led into the station; the main entrances on both sides were barricaded off and guarded, but the two security entrances had less in the way of blockades to keep someone from coming through there. Still, they were watched.

No, the shots came from the tunnels themselves...

"Shit. I thought I told them to make sure nobody gets in here!" Victor hissed through his teeth.

"It doesn't matter," Boris replied beside him. "We will break them."

Victor immediately got on the phone with Yuri.

"Goddamn it, where are you?! We're under fire here! You traitor! Where the fuck are you?!"

With a crackle and pop, the phone came to life in walkie-talkie fashion. "I made sure nobody got through, Victor. I don't know how they managed to get there. I'll lead a troop of men there that I can trust."

"HURRY!" Victor nearly screamed into his phone.

Boris rose up out of cover and with heavy shotgun that would've thrown a lesser man easily from his feet, he blasted pumpkin-sized holes into the bodies of two men racing towards them, firearms drawn. The blood, guts, and guns landed with splattering drops and the wet smack of chunky meat. The death cries were cut off as their bodies exploded in a spray of messy crimson.

"Two down," Boris counted with a gruff smirk.

*******************************************

The gun blasts and shouts preceded Yuri's men as they raced down through the tunnel. With the trains not running, this was the only way to get there, and yet...

Yuri was not as stupid as he looked. Secretly, he was planning on Victor being caught in a tight spot for just enough time so that when he did show up, the balance might be tipped in his favor...

It would be another twenty-five minutes before they emerged, a few policemen short, with Yuri's own contingent devoted and loyal to him, fully trained in the ways of promotion and upward mobility in Russian society. In short, if you did as your superior asked without question, you proved your loyalty and would be rewarded handsomely at some point with enough patience and a good enough capability for survival.

Blasting their way through the thugs of the south tunnel, Yuri's men emerged into the midst of the firefight that was already surrounding the excavation. Two more of his men immediately took shots to the chest that sent them crashing into the walls of the station and down into the tracks in a bloody heap for stepping too hastily from cover.

"Shit!" Yuri cursed.

"YURI!! IS THAT YOU?!" Victor's voice rang out from the pit.

"Yeah!" he shouted back before another shot nearly got him in the face, blasting apart tile pieces and sending them back into his hair as he ducked further behind cover.

"You better get the fuck in here, Yuri, or I'm going to kill YOU when I'm through with these FUCKS!" Victor's echoing threat boomed back over to him.

"Shit, shit, shit..." Yuri's mind raced. He pulled out his phone. One more call. One more. He needed to know where he was...

"Anatoliy... pickup..." he muttered. When the other line clicked and received his call, he didn't hesitate to ask the question:

"Where are you?!"

*************************************************
"Are those my people?" Big Tony asked, sweating and struggling to catch his breath.

Vince stuck his head out from behind one of the stone columns supporting the archway from the tunnel. "Yeah. Some of them."

"Some? Which ones?!" Tony questioned without looking.

"The ones not wearing uniforms, you putz," Vincent replied.

"HEY!" Frankie raised his voice. "Who you fuckin' callin' PUTZ?!"

"I'm callin' youse twose 'putz', cuz that's what you are! The coppers sure ain't on your sides! Putzes. Both of youse."

"Shut yer fuckin' mouth Vince!" Frankie burst out, losing his cool, after being overheated from his jog and shoving poor Vince straight into the line of fire. With the attention of the nearest officers diverted by this sudden altercation, three shots riddled Vincent's body before he had time to look down in shock to feel the blood coming from the blood wounds.

"You... fuckin'... douchebag..." he gurgled out, struggling to raise his gun, but his arm was soon blown off by a well-placed magnum shot, sending his firearm to the floor where it discharged and hit Frankie in the leg.

"FUCK! MY KNEE!" the fat American-Italian gangster cried out, doubling over and gripping his left leg in wincing pain. "Jesus Christ, that fucker shot me with his gun when it wasn't even in his hand! FUCK! GODDAMN it hurts!" He nearly rolled back and forth from the overwhelming pain.

"Get the fuck up, Frankie! Jesus Christ, I bring you all the way here, I ain't gonna have you fuck this up layin' on the goddamn tracks holding yer fuckin' knee like a little GIRL! GET UP!" he roared as he grabbed the heavy-set Frankie Ferelli with some degree of significant effort to his shaky feet, favoring the one as he leaned on Tony.

Tears were escaping from Frankie's eyes.

"Jesus Christ, boss, it fuckin' hurts!" he whined.

"Will you stop bein' such a fuckin' pussy?! I'm going to shove you out dere myself if you don't stop this shit!" Two more shots found nothing but tile and concrete, but Big Tony didn't care.

"You comin' or not? We're gonna take these fucks together, and we ain't gonna let a little blood an' pain stop us, are we?!" Tony said, grabbing Frankie and glaring straight into his flustered eyes.

"N-n-no, boss! No... we aren't!" He shored up his expression and resolve as best he knew how, took a deep breath and winced, favoring his leg, lifting it like a wounded animal.

"C'mon! Get yer shit ready. Here we go!"

And the two fat American gangsters originally from New Jersey came out with their guns blazing, laying low four policemen at once, and moving on to the Russians still in cover along the inside walls of the excavated pit.

"Hold on Sammy! We're here! You commie mother-fuckers are all gonna wish you were never fuckin' born!" Tony roared out, blowing away uniforms indiscriminately left and right like a battleship.

******************************************

As Sarina crept through the tunnel she heard the sounds and glimpsed the stark flashes of the firefight up ahead.

They were enough to dazzle and deafen her to the point that she that there was no perception of the presence behind her.

Even when his phone rang, Anatoliy was close enough to wrap his hand around her sweet mouth and pull her back against him, while replying to the voice on the other end:

"I'm right here, Yuri... Just grabbing something before I make my move..." he smirked, holding Sarina tightly in his arms from behind, with a smirk on his lips.

She felt the blunt metal nose of a gun digging into her ribs as he shifted position. "Keep walking, and if you fight me, I'll end our little relationship right here. As it is, you may save my life after all..."

[Aheris]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 8:15 PM
Location: The Sacred Valley, Interior of Peru

Guiliana had passed Lance a few kleenexes, and stood, uncomfortably nearby. It wasn't that she didn't want to help Stephanie, or wasn't concerned for her well-being. Guiliana was just ill-at-ease with Lance's johnny-on-the-spot behavior and Ben's apparent lack of interest.

Lance was trying to stand Stephanie up, and Guiliana moved to the other side, trying to give a secondary support. Ben was eager to get moving, and to claim his prize. His childlike, ignorant excitement stood out in the darkness, irritating the tension between the members of the group.

Stephanie was tougher than she looked, for sure. She was managing as well as could be expected for someone who had taken a fall like that, and Guiliana tried to keep her reaction to herself. No need to attract Ben's attention if he wasn't in the club. But the idea tugged at her head that he was most likely, if not surely, strange in a similar way to herself.

However, Lance's irritation with Ben had come to a head. He was talking, rather loudly, in Ben's direction.

“Great job there Benny! Good show of basic human nature! And even better a show of how trustworthy you are. Clearly, you’re just a bit more interested in your own personal goals than the common well being of the people assisting you in your endeavor. Thank god you’re a corporate pig and not a doctor. Otherwise we’d have a whole lot of sick people praying your fucking TiVo didn’t suddenly stop working in February. After all what’s a human life if you have to miss the Super Bowl, right?!”


Guiliana sighed and tried to at step in before Ben could react.

"Lance, I know you're in a pissed off mood. I know you don't like this Ben, and the fact that he's acquainted with myself, and by extension, you two. You're trying to engage in a pissing contest to protect your territory. But getting into a fucking fight in a cave underground in the dark seems like a stupid idea."

She paused and made eye contact with Ben, since Lance had pulled him around by the shoulder to get into his face.

"And you..Ben, you're not being very considerate of three people who are helping you do your job right now. So I would appreciate it if you would take a quick breath and let us regroup for a second. You'll get your kibble quickly enough."

In her head, however, Guiliana had no intention of letting Ben get this artifact, which he seemed far too casual about. This wasn't about money, this was about control.

Guiliana was not about to let some arrogant punk walk in, manipulate her companions, and use her research for his own personal gain. But she would play his little..fucking..game..just long enough to get what she needed. If he decided to screw around with her, he'd learn a little something about messing around with a woman in heels.

[~N~]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 9:00-10:00 AM
LOCATION: Nekhen, Egypt at the mastaba tomb.

As the professor took the box from Shiloh’s shaking hands he stopped, regarding her with odd curiosity but said nothing as he opened the box. Shiloh’s breath drew sharp as a the amber colored jewel resembling a dragons eye came into view, but her attention was drawn back to the professor’s face when she heard him gasping, his eyes wide open and staring at her as though he were looking upon a ghost.


The whole journey had been like a passage through another world. The darkness, the things Shiloh had shown him; there was nothing now that Professor Thomas Langdon knew for certain. She had transformed before his eyes...

The woman he thought he knew, radiant and outgoing and attractive as she was, was now literally radiant, practically throwing light upon the walls, and sprouting wings. He thought perhaps it was the air quality that was affecting him, or the lack of oxygen, or perhaps it was just a very, very vivid dream, and he was still on the boat, and had fallen asleep.

But at every turn, everything indicated that this was--unbelievably--real. He shook his head more times than he could count. His cautious hesitation at this sequence of events was overwhelmed by Shiloh's growing insistence. She was becoming stronger--he could feel it in the way she gripped him, in the way she moved.

And the breathless realization dawned on him while he held the box containing an artifact of incomprehensible importance to the whole field of archaeological research--a "career find" if ever there was one--that Shiloh was no longer human, if she ever had been.

He gazed now upon an angel... in all the ways angels had been depicted in renderings down through history... streams of light, a glow that could be described as a "halo" and the pristine, sublime beauty that only an angel could possess. He could no longer blink. He could no longer breathe.

“Professor?” Shiloh whispered.

He couldn't respond. He could barely shift his eyes back to the relic in the box in his hands. His heart hammered in his chest and his knees felt weak. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came.

Thomas Langdon glanced upon the woman before him, the woman who was no longer the one he knew--the woman who had become... more... than he could imagine her ever being.

"Shiloh..." he whispered, the words barely accompanied by any sound or breath at all.

The jewel in the box hummed with a latent power. He only realized this when he realized that the shaking in his trembling fingers and sweaty palms wasn't all his own doing. His mouth was dry. The professor swallowed hard and looked down, reaching gingerly for the amber jewel, and almost as though it happened outside of conscious awareness of it, he dropped the box, letting it crash to the floor.

He was compelled to hold the smooth amber jewel, like a cat's eye agate, up to the light of Shiloh's radiance. It vibrated within the soft touch of his fingertips so much that he felt he had to grasp it with both hands, holding it out in front of him.

Langdon's gaze shifted from the jewel to her eyes and then back to the jewel.

"We must... get back..." he struggled to say, as though it took all of his strength just to keep his fingers from shaking any more than they already did. "We..."

His whole body felt weakened, as though he was about to buckle to the floor in a heap.

"We... need to go..." he struggled to say. And only now, stumbling, looking for all the world like a toddler that was about to tumble down, he turned and fell back against the narrow passage that took them here.

"Must... ... get... out... of here..." He blindly felt along the wall, gripping the jewel next to his heart to keep it safe from harm. "Shiloh..." he said in a whisper, calling her to him.

When they made it back to the main room where the shaft she had flown them down led upwards, he glanced up for only a moment, wondering, forgetting, realizing... she could fly them out.

That was before a bright, iridescent stream of light like a strobe shot down the shaft and blinded him, before shadows and shapes took form above.

"Professor Thomas Langdon! I see you found what we were looking for. I'm going to lower a nice basket on a rope for you. I suggest you put it in."

There was a distinct *click* that indicated the activation of a weapon.

"Or else we might end up leaving something else down here in exchange... for the jackals to find."

The voice was that of Maximillian Miller.

"Thomas... I'm sorry," came the weak apology behind the business executive. "I had no idea they would do this..." It was the voice of a man Dr. Langdon knew, that of Dr. Harold Ashton.

[~N~]

“Great job there Benny! Good show of basic human nature! And even better a show of how trustworthy you are. Clearly, you’re just a bit more interested in your own personal goals than the common well being of the people assisting you in your endeavor. Thank god you’re a corporate pig and not a doctor. Otherwise we’d have a whole lot of sick people praying your fucking TiVo didn’t suddenly stop working in February. After all what’s a human life if you have to miss the Super Bowl, right?!”

Ben had a silver .38 caliber pistol six inches from the bridge of Lance's nose faster than he could think of anything to say.

"Listen, Lance, as far as I fucking know, you don't know shit about what you're doing here, where you're going, or what you're looking for! So if you'll fucking excuse me, someone has to at least give us some purpose down here besides falling into the HUGE HOLES IN THE GROUND! FUCK!" He cursed with deafening mix of irritation, frustration and agonizing pain, gripping his leg with his other hand and keeping the firearm trained on Lance's face.

Obviously, Guiliana's reaction came a moment too late, but was somewhat still effective.

Guiliana sighed and tried to at step in before Ben could react.

"Lance, I know you're in a pissed off mood. I know you don't like this Ben, and the fact that he's acquainted with myself, and by extension, you two. You're trying to engage in a pissing contest to protect your territory. But getting into a fucking fight in a cave underground in the dark seems like a stupid idea."

She paused and made eye contact with Ben, since Lance had pulled him around by the shoulder to get into his face.

"And you..Ben, you're not being very considerate of three people who are helping you do your job right now. So I would appreciate it if you would take a quick breath and let us regroup for a second. You'll get your kibble quickly enough."

Ben's eyes shifted quickly to her, and for a blinking instant, he seemed to see her in a more reasonable light. His gun hand was shaking, and his face was red with the pain and frustration surging through him right now, with a fair dose of adrenaline. Clenching his teeth and jaw muscles, he did what he could to bottle up his anger and resume control of his emotions. His eyes shifted back to Lance.

"I'm sorry," he said with tight lips. "Don't get in my face again, or you won't have one to smile with again." He put the safety back on and stashed the gun with another swift movement that made it disappear as instantly as it had emerged. His movements at times were incredibly swift and his reactions were nervy and jumpy.

Ben glanced past Lance and Guiliana to Stephanie. "You can walk, right? We have to move. We stay down here in this icy water too long, we're all gonna get hypothermia."

He addressed Stephanie's comment, "I have reason to believe that passage up there," he said, pointing to a serpentine cavern that rose up out of the pool where a stream was pouring into this place with a burbling trickle, "is the way towards what we're all looking for." He paused for a moment, glaring at Lance and then at Guiliana, "I don't know any of you besides of Miss Della Romagna here--and really, I know more about her dossier than her personally--but I do know that we either work together to find this thing, or we can tear each other apart right here."

He shifted his gaze to Stephanie who seemed to be eerily preoccupied and calm, drawing her fingers like a child through the water in an almost unsettling way. Ben's eyes narrowed. This was not just some innocent beach girl. None of these people were what they seemed, including himself. Mr. Frakes turned his attention back on Lance, and a small tremor went through him--a remainder of his temperamental anger towards the young man.

"Lance, I would be careful who you so quickly rush to defend. I don't know what your connection is with her and I'm not sure I blame you for traveling with two ladies, but I know for a fact that Guiliana here is just as capable of stabbing you in the back as I am, and your helpless damsel over there just took a fall that damn near broke my fuckin' leg without much injury at all. Think about it."

Ben turned, but he had a preternatural sixth sense that kept a wariness about his company. He began to slowly, and carefully make his way over to the cavernous passage that opened up like the mouth of a black rocky snake, with two glistening stalactites dripping with glowing moisture down into the pool below. Careful to make sure he didn't sink into the unknown depths of the water, Ben scrambled finally to the rocky pathway that ran to both sides of the seven foot wide passage, just tall enough for a six foot young man to get into without banging his head on the low ceiling. He gave an unconscious shake of his body before limp-hopping up the inclined path.

Standing just inside the maw of this cavern, Ben faced all three of them.

"I'm going this way. If you're with me, this is the way we're going. If you're not, this is where we go our separate paths. There are two other exits..."

He pointed back behind them and down towards the other end of the pool to a low arching wide exit where the water seemed to be emptying out deeper into the earth. "There... and..." he peeked out and looked right, to another cavernous shaft that was relatively dry but even narrower than the one was standing in, with no stream running through it. "There."

"My instincts tell me it's this way." Then he shrugged. "But I don't have all the answers. And no, I'm not going to coddle you. I'm not a fuckin' nurse. You want to take care of each other, fine. The way I see it, I'm in just as much danger as the rest of you, and I don't trust any of you, but here we are, right? This is business. We work together, because we have to, because it's stupid not to. So let's deal, alright? We can have drinks and send flowers to each other after this is all over."

[RisingPhoenix]

Date: August 21st, 2042
Time: 3:00 PM - Dusk
Location: Choquequirao, Peru

Nicolai followed Father Francis silently for a while, not wanting to interrupt the man as he spoke with information about the place they were in. If one did not know Father Francis, they’d assume he was a native of Peru, someone who had lived here his entire life. His knowledge about the place they were at, and were heading intrigued Nicolai and made him smirk.

"Choquequiro is perhaps known better as the 'Cradle of Gold', though its true richness lay in the ceremonial activities that went on here for centuries," Father Francis continued, stepping higher and higher.

Nicolai was speechless as he took in the beauty of the ‘Cradle of Gold’ that was Choquequiro.

“This place is magnificent,” Nicolai said in almost a whisper as he continued to look awe struck at the beauty before him.

He followed Father Francis quietly afterward. He was deep in thought about the artifact that he had come so far to retrieve. It was the only reason he had taken the trip to Peru. While he was in thought, he heard Father Francis speak.

“In here…"

Nicolai followed Father Francis, but when he heard the sudden movement of stone, he wished he hadn’t followed. They were in a predicament that spelled disaster. They had to get out of this. Nicolai looked at Father Francis and then thought for a moment.
“Which way Father? We haven’t come this far to turn around now.”

[Mysteria]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 10:00 – 10:30 AM
LOCATION: Nekhen, Egypt inside the Mastaba tomb.

Shiloh watched as the normally calm cool and collected Thomas Langdon visibly shook in front of her. This was not the same man she had admired as a child.

"Shiloh..." he whispered, the words barely accompanied by any sound or breath at all.

Shiloh reached towards the professor as his eyes darted back and forth from the stone to her only to return to the stone again. His hands were unsteady, his voice quivering as he spoke.

"We... need to go..."

Even as he said the words Thomas Langdon was gripping both the stone and wall for dear life as he moved back out of the corridor and into the room that led back to the shaft they had flew down just mere moments before. He’d not even allowed her to try to light his way, he having moved in front of her, his voice barely audible as he called her, beckoning her to follow him.

He staggered as though he had imbibed too much alcohol, or as if the stone itself were a drug that had relieved him of his strength and Shiloh reached out to steady him beginning with “Professor” but her words were cut off when a bright light was suddenly shone down upon them followed by a voice that was not totally unfamiliar to her ears.

"Professor Thomas Langdon! I see you found what we were looking for. I'm going to lower a nice basket on a rope for you. I suggest you put it in."

Shiloh’s eyes narrowed as she tried to focus her gaze through the light. That voice. She’d heard it before but where?
The click of a firearm was heard followed quickly with "Or else we might end up leaving something else down here in exchange... for the jackals to find."

That voice. Distant yet familiar to her as her eyes settled on the man’s frame finally and she realized where she’d seen him before. He was the one in Cairo, the one there when Isaac had taken ill. If his questions in Cairo hadn’t been enough to cause suspicion, his presence here was the icing on the cake. Shiloh quickly determined that he was for all intense purposes, evil minded. And to make matters even worse, he now held a gun on them, and threatened to take the stone.

A shudder ran through Shiloh. Had they come this far just to have the stone fall into the hands of those who harbored evil in their souls? Her mind raced in the seconds that followed. I’m just a singer from Alesia, what do I know of evil, what do I know of any of this? And then her breath caught in her throat as she realized it didn’t matter what she knew of any of this. All that mattered was that somehow she had been the one tasked with finding this stone. Although Shiloh had no clue why she would have been chosen for this, why she of all people would have been turned into of all things, an angel, she was slowly coming to understand that it was not for her to understand, at least not yet. She simply had no choice but to accept what was happening, what she had become and the fact that it now fell to her to protect the stone- at all costs. Only a few seconds had passed as the realization began to sink in only to be replaced with a small gasp as an even more critical thought passed through her mind.

She wasn’t the only one at risk now. She’d drug the professor into this. She’d put him at risk too.

"Thomas... I'm sorry," came the weak apology behind the business executive. "I had no idea they would do this..."

Shiloh’s heart felt as though it would beat straight out of her chest when she heard another, totally unfamiliar voice speak. She did not know this newcomer but it was obvious to her that the professor knew him and that now another innocent bystander was in harm’s way. She couldn’t let the professor get hurt. She couldn’t let his associate be harmed either. She could not let the stone be taken.

“How” Shiloh whispered in silent prayer, seeking an answer as to how to get them out of the situation she created and how to do it safely. Suddenly her back straightened as she felt what she could have only described as pressure being applied to the middle of her back, causing her to draw in a sharp breath and in that breath a thought came to her as though it had been place in her mind by an unknown entity and although she could not see him, she knew that Micah was still somehow guiding her and the word resounded through her mind. FAITH.

She’d been given her gifts for a reason and now she had to have faith that what she was about to do was the right thing even though it still somehow felt wrong to her. She had to have faith that it would turn out okay for them all in the end. She had to have faith that she could prevent the stone from being captured for evil purposes. She had already felt its power, knew its worth. She didn’t want to put anyone at risk. She didn’t want anyone to get hurt. Her decision came quickly a prayer again crossing her lips “Keep them safe.”

She knew in that instant what had to be done.

Barely moving and with the slightest of a whisper to the professor she said “Trust me Thomas, shut your eyes.” Then with the utterance of one single word “light”, her voice was immediately followed by a blinding light that flooded the interior of the room they were standing in and the shaft and adjoining room above them. Ever since having come into close proximity of the stone she had felt stronger and she felt a rush of confidence as one hand wrapped around professors waist and phantasmal wings appeared once again. Now all that was left to do was to use her free hand to try to pick up his associate and get them all to safety.

Several voices could be heard cursing above them as she quickly spun Thomas Langdon so that her own body was shielding him. Taking flight and making their ascent from the lower level straight up through the blinding light Shiloh heard the gun shots around them and although fear pumped through her veins like ice, so also did her new found conviction to save the stone. Ignoring the sounds, she flew higher and upward into the elevated level of the tomb where the voices were, directly into the path of the bullets that could be heard ripping from the gun and echoing through the small chamber that she needed to get them through and away from in order to protect the professor, his friend, and the stone.

[Koti~]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 8:45 PM
Location: The Sacred Valley, Interior of Peru

Memories of a forgotten past ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JfCOUaW3jrI&feature=player_embedded)

Her hand caressed the wall next to her, rivulets of crystal water leaving trails in her arm as small beads of water dripped from her elbow. Her fingers rose and fell with every bump and divot in the wall, making slight popping noise as they passed over holes. A coy smile splayed across her lips, a slight hum settling deep in her throat as she stared off into space, a pleasingly vacant look on her face.

*This is perfect, just perfect. With this body, and her naivety, all will bow down at my feet, unable to resist her innocence, and my charm. None shall survive* Evalon thought to herself, unbridled joy coursing through her veins. The best though, would be to see these moronic fools she travelled with fall to their knees in praise, all in awe of her glory.

Suddenly, her vision spiked, wavering like crashing waves over a sheer rock wall. Her stomach lurched violently back and forth, threatening to eject its contents out of her system. Resting against the wall, she fought the urge to scream. Stephanie was waking form her coma, and with it, would come pain she couldn’t resist, pain of being locked away again. Feeling that her stomach was about to completely reverse itself, she bit down on her lips, two small drops of blood beading onto her lips. Her vision sharpened to a fine view, the pain abating for a bit before returning to its shaky sight. Feeling she had learned a path to keeping her control.

Making sure the others couldn’t see, she slipped her left pointer finger into a hold of her right index and thumb, the tip resting on her right middle finger. Biting down again, she pushed up and pulled hard, feeling the joint pop painfully as it pulled from her bones, dislocating it. Her vision abated, a sickly sweet taste filling her mouth.

*I won’t let her take back this body. I won’t let anyone get out of my way. This will be my body, my future, my freedom. Even if I have to break every bone in my body, I won’t let go of this body* Evalon thought, red swirling with green, purples and blue flashing between beats of her heart.

The bitter pain, and determination made old memories float to the surface, weariness making her reminisce about the past as they walked on, Stephanie still humming vacantly into the cool air.

Very few memories littered in her mind, only a few truly staying focused, the others a blur of white and noise. The first that swam to focus was the day she had been taken to the hospital, the day she had slipped from her own restraints and killed. Barely a heartbeat had passed between her rage against the old ben, and when she had been set upon by the mothers running the orphanage, shouts of monster, demon, and unholy act of the lord. Forcibly scrubbed clean, and locked away into a closet, she shuddered as her body shook violently, scared and hungry. A few days later, she was hauled away by men in black suits, shades hiding their eyes. Even with the glasses, she could feel the distain, the pure hatred directed towards her, their desire to kill her where she stood. Instead, they injected her with a strange red liquid, making her feel rested, yet woozy. Before a single word could pass through her lips, she began to fall forward, nearly falling flat before the men grabbed her, chaining her with a strange devise that made her skin crawl and make her struggle weakly against them, trying to pull away from the, yet held close to them. The ride past in a haze of pain, delusion, and black outs, the few times she could remember, being able to see clouds in the air.

The next memory that came into her mind, was the day she was dropped off into the ward. Traded from one hand to another, she was taken to a room padded heavily, a cross hanging from each wall. Once released from the cuffs, Evalon began to attack any inch she could, pain radiating anytime she got near the walls, burn marks appearing on her arms and body, taking shapes of the cross on the wall. She didn’t much remember the rest of that, the time passing in a blur of red rage, and searing pain. She couldn’t remember what made her pass out first, be it the exhaustion, starvation, or pain, she woke up, to see herself bound to a bed, an IV attached to her arm.

The last memory, and the one that changed her life, was the day after she had been there for 2 years. It had been two years since she had been there, and she was partially starved. The blood they fed her was cold and lifeless, clean of all hormones and filled with sedatives to keep them calm… passive. The other patients were lifeless and dull, barely moving at all. Some had even stopped all together staring at the walls or into vacant space through the window. She herself sat in a corner, knees pulled up to her chest and her head resting on them, staring into a spot on the ground. Then something interesting happened, one of the patients lost it, the solitude having driven him mad, and he lashed out, attacking all in her path. Many were wounded, but barely lifted a finger to resist, wishing for the sweet embrace of death over the near soulless lives of their life at the hospital. She barely reacted to these events, until a sweet smell tickled her nose. Looking up, curiosity beckoning to her, she saw that a young female nurse had been wounded badly, blood turning her crisp white uniform rose red, pain and fear flashing across her face. She hollered in pain as the others subdued the patient, others rushing to keep the other patients away from the blood now dripping on the floor.

Evalon cocked her head to the side as the pool spread, allured by its shine and lucid movement, seeming to head towards her. Life sparked into her eyes, staring at the woman as pain continued to blossom on her face. In that instant, she knew what she had to do, not as a passion, but as a drive, a reason to live. She would have to get out of there, to become a true baroness of the night, not to kill, but to torture. She would strike back at the humans, to watch them slowly writhe under her grasp as they died, their eyes pleading for freedom of the pain, and pure terror at what stared them down, their blood dripping from her lips as she spoke softly into their ears, telling them why they were dying, why they had been ….

"My instincts tell me it's this way." Then he shrugged. "But I don't have all the answers. And no, I'm not going to coddle you. I'm not a fuckin' nurse. You want to take care of each other, fine. The way I see it, I'm in just as much danger as the rest of you, and I don't trust any of you, but here we are, right? This is business. We work together, because we have to, because it's stupid not to. So let's deal, alright? We can have drinks and send flowers to each other after this is all over."

… She snapped back to reality, having been lost in her own mind. She looked down, to notice that all of the fingers on her left hand had become dislocated. Each one hung at a gruesome angle, making her realize that she must have continued to do so while she was lost in her own mind.

Evalon moved up the trail, eagerness filling her step as the headed up the hill, following behind Ben. She didn’t know why, but her breath became bated, and eagerness made her smile grow. Her eyes wandered around the narrow hall, stopping every now and then on Ben.

They emerged into a large cavern, light glinting off the walls that were coated with droplets of water, the cave a dead end. In the back, stood a pedestal, interwoven with blue crystals and black obsidian, a basin sitting on top. Sitting dead center inside it, was a blue stone, in the shape of a tear drop. An inner light seemed to fill the stone, making shadows dance along the walls.

*My…. My freedom. So close to it, yet only one thing stands in my way… Ben. I must get it first, no one will stop me from getting that stone, no one!* Evalon thought in rage, sneaking up on Ben, her breathing slow and measured. Her right hand reached forward, her fingers dancing in the air as they headed towards the gun that she knew was hidden. Just as her fingers where a breadth away from the hilt, his hand grabbed her wrist in a vice-like grip, pulling it up and away. Jutting forward with her disjointed hand, she reached for the gun, causing several events to unfold at once.

The second his hand grabbed her other wrist; a mix of disgust crossing his face at her fingers, her vision spiked painfully, her stomach knotting painfully in ways impossible to believe to her. A nearly indescribably scream clawed from her mind as Stephanie began to resurface, pain following like a ragged fall wind. Fear crossed through her eyes as everything began to fall apart in front of her eyes, freedom slipping from her grasp. Fear driving her emotions, she lunged forward, lips parting over her fangs as they seemed to gently caress the side of his throat, just to the right of his jugular…


Forbidden Bliss (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1lvC8b1_2bI)

… Sweet bliss calmed her system, Stephanie’s scream of fright dying into a dull roar as her mind went blank. Hot sticky liquid flowed down her throat as it pooled from Bens wound, her body losing all sense of outside feeling. Her mind went hazy as the crimson blood gushed into her throat freely, coursing through every vein of her body. Her eyes turned blood red as she could feel her body fixing itself. Bones popped back into place as old scars sealed over with fresh skin, wounds recovering as though they had never happened. Her body seemed to fill out, looking more and more real as she kept hold, ignorant of any attempt to remove her from the sweet embrace of life coursing over her tongue and down her throat.

Looking up, her eyes locked onto the stone on the pedestal and the stone, and her mind became sharp and clearly focused. Pushing his weakened hands off her own, her fingers wrapped around the hidden gun as she shoved him forcibly away. She pushed off the ground, an unseen bubble forming around her, instantly noting the others that had happened as she landed at the pedestal, turning around swiftly to lock eyes with the other two, pulling the hammer back and pointed the barrel at both, her blood red eyes locked dead on those two.

Crimson liquid turned her lips rose red as she began to laugh, softly at first, then increasing manically with great gusto, echoing off the walls as her tongue ran over her fangs to wipe away any blood from their ivory white shine. She spoke to them as her laughter died down, backing up closer to the stone while staying trained on them,

“Oh fuck the hell yes”

[Kris]

DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 21:10 PM
LOCATION: Outside of Metro Station 43, Moscow, Russia.


"I listened to my heart beating, the faint rush of my blood
I listened to my heart beating, The echoes from space
Something moving in the emptiness, something drew me near
Someone told me of my future deeds, whispered them in my ear", 'Sky Is Mine' by 'Amorphis'


***


Her bag was stripped and torn from her back as a pitchy whimper escaped her lips. Soon after she was hushed by the very same hand that ripped off her satchel as another one made its way around her, entangling, seizing, pulling her against the oh so familiar warmth of the last person she wanted to meet down here in the tunnels.

With the electric current and the trains system down, it was pretty dark to see what was around her, but his voice was easy to recognize, even without seeing his face.

Her dark hazelnut pupils danced eagerly as he spoke, trying to foresee his next move as a cold iron was making its way over her body, right below the line of her bra. Her breast was heaved upward as if to allow the foreign object to keep on its trail and 'sniff' her upper torso without being disturbed; In truth it was a lame effort to reject the pistol from pressing against her skin.

She tried to rejected her captured, fighting with her shoulders and arms against his ribs and chest, but when a soft 'click', which was the handgun's trigger, was heard, she froze and stopped moving.

Damn. He was serious.

Dead serious.

His words, while still carried within the same cheeky and playful tune he always spoke in, couldn't hide the desperation and the eagerness.

God, how wonderful...

Serious and desperate, not exactly the greatest combination in the world when it came to this man... Let alone when it concerned him having her bound to his him, which wasn't exactly the healthiest thing for her at the moment...

She moaned into his hand while nodding few times quickly, agreeing to the message which was carried with his warning and without much hesitation from his side they started to move.

To their front flashes of lights and whistles of bullets revived the station with a terrible tumult as screams of deaths and crazy cries were heard all over.

Sarina's heart beat so strongly she feared it might rip itself off of her. Trails of sweat made their way over her nape and she shivered uncontrollably. Anatoliy made sure she kept on walking, but she quickly learned that her steps were slowly becoming heavy and humble as her terror paralyzed her legs which almost made her lose her balance and fell. She tried to threw quick glances backward, at the Russian dancer, but the voices ahead captured her, and her eyes were mesmerized at the road ahead.

Great...

Just great...

It was so typical for her to end up being stuck between the hammer and the anvil that this whole situation shouldn't have been a great surprise to her...

But it was...

The fear took over and blind her eyes with weak tears that threaten to flee their protective sockets, as a sudden, unexplained cold clouded her mind.

No.

It can't end like this.

Not again.

She can't die again...

Can she?

Once her steps became too much of a hinder to him, Anatoliy started to curse as he pushed her a bit more forcibly, urging her to continue. Sadly, at this point her senses became rather dull; As far as she concerned it was over; she gave up. She allowed herself to be carried like a lamb to the slaughter, knowing perfectly well that this coward of a man was planning to use her as a human shield... or for some other twisted idea that would cause her to die and him to leave unharmed...

She closed her eyes tightly, her small fangs biting on her lower lips as she swayed clumsily with every pace, flinching at his barking voice and shoving hands, barely capable of keeping decent movements.

...

Suddenly...

...

Things seemed to feel a bit more... easy to handle...

The sound level was reduced to the point that only the beating of her heart pierced the silent void, as if all the other noises ceased to exist. Sarina's eyes burst wide open with a quick, almost unnoticed movement of her eyelids. She looked around, realizing that her vision has shifted to something else as the world turned to look different from her normal human sight; Everything was turned to be colored according to the heat it produced, as if scanned through gamma rays, as the details became Sharper and focused, dimensional and structured with marks like architectural map.


http://www.urbanrail.net/am/edmo/Edmonton-LRT_tunnel_near_University_Station.JPG


http://image.shutterstock.com/display_pic_with_logo/566638/566638,1288369376,2/stock-photo--d-illustration-of-tunnel-blueprint-64029724.jpg


Sarina stopped to shiver at this point.

For some reason she felt nothing; No cold and no fear penetrate her awareness.

She could "choose" what to see and what to hear and this "apathy" to the outside world increased the more she and Anatoliy walked further and further for the center of the station.

...

Sarina couldn't help but wonder what caused this change; Was it her Russian dancer acquaintance doing? She remembered CLEARLY how he could provoke and channel emotions of others to the points of enabling them to see and hear visions, but... She knew he would gain nothing by easing her...

Was it something else?...

Could it be... her own doing?!

Thinking this over, Sarina realized this serenity and apathy to her surroundings, this "destruction" of emotions, feelings and outside interference was rather familiar to her...

Yes...

Whenever she wanted to "keep" something away from her thoughts, she could just "order" her body to "delete" said thing... giving her the advantage of controlling her mind and thinking things clearly...

But...

She never ordered her body to do it now! Hell, she was too afraid to even think of trying to calm herself down.

Which meant...

Yes...

Her body did it on its own. Something within her realized it needed it, something in her noticed that she could use this timeout and activated some kind of self defense shell...

But if her body, or more to say her mind, thought of this doing this on its own it meant only one thing...

Her powers have somehow increased...

...

The star...

DAMN!!!!

It all made sense now!

Now she knew at last why these crazy bastards were all over the damn thing! It increased powers for "humans" like herself... like Anatoliy... Like... Oh god, please please please that none of these criminals are monsters too...

Powers like that would be terrible in the wrong hands...

Sarina realized she needed to act now.

NOW!

THINK FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE! THINK!

...

Below her feet she sensed the cold metal of the iron rails, and although the electrical circuits were out of order, Sarina could still feel some hints of power flowing through them. The power was weak but Sarina found herself capable of merging with it, passing her awareness and commands into the flow of the fading electric currents.

She had an idea... But in order for her to reach the mainframe and adjust her orders for her next setting of her plan she would need more power...

Fine then...

Shall we march?

She smiled to herself, a terrible prurient red grin, nicely curled upward, right into the edges of the cheeks as she started to walk by her own will onward, she, the condemned, willingly marching for the halter...

If she had no choice but to step forward, she planned to keep walking and "take" whatever she could from that path ahead and use it...

For her own gain...

[~N~]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 10:30 AM
LOCATION: Nekhen, Egypt inside the Mastaba tomb.

Max Miller, Sarah, Dr. Ashton, and Haji--who had also been coerced into coming further than he was comfortable--were suddenly blinded. Miller had already fired off instinctively a number of shots, all of which echoed through the mastaba tomb with deafening ferocity; however, due to the blinding light, his accuracy was impaired on a visual scale.

Sarah covered her ears and screamed, "MAX! Are you crazy! You're going to get us killed!"

He ignored her protests and shoved her back when she tried to stop him from shooting the... "angel". Right now, Sarah was too shaken up to question what she saw; she was simply reacting to it without thinking. The last thing she wanted was for something to happen that would end up in them being buried in here alive.

In the blinding light, however, Dr. Ashton was not so lucky. As the ricocheting shots resounded off the walls, he ducked, lost his balance, and fell...

His hands barely grasped and caught the edge of the hole that led down into the darkness where the jewel was found, and he knew that if he slipped, he would not survive the fall. His fingers and hands, scraped and under pressure from the weight of his straining body, began to cut, bruise and bleed, while he gripped the edge with white knuckled fear. His muscles locked and held his weight, but for how long?

Max tuned out all the noises in the room and felt his senses sharpen with calculating accuracy. Even through the blinding light he turned and aimed his gun to where his senses told him the angelic Shiloh was.

"Shiloh Thompson! This is my last warning to you. Give over the jewel, or I will open fire on you and your friend."

"Max... please," Harold groaned from his place, hanging in the pit, "Don't do this. Thomas never asked for any of this. He doesn't deserve it. He's a good man. I'm asking you to spare him and the woman. Please."

"Shut up, Harold," Max replied in a flat tone, his aim shifting by small, calculating amounts as he used every noise, every shift in the lighting to reposition and recalculate his aim. "I intend to have that jewel. It's more valuable than you or Dr. Langdon put together, and it means more than you can possibly realize to me."

"Shiloh!" he called out again, keeping his weapon drawn and beaded on her. "If you hand over the jewel, I'll leave you and your professor friends here in one piece. I'm sure you can find your way out!" he reasoned.

"But if you take that stone and run, you will never be safe. I will have every mercenary in the world hunting you down. I will find you Shiloh. I will find and kill you. And when I do, I won't be nice about it like I am now. I own one of the richest companies in the world, and I know all about you and your little singing gig at the nightclub. I know all about you Shiloh Thompson. You can run, but you're only going to die tired. Hand over the stone, and I will walk out of here, and leave you to help these people."

Then his eyes flickered. Suddenly, he could see in a whole new way that was not dependent on the small band of the spectrum that scientists call "visible light". Now... he could see a whole lot more.

"Shiloh... the clock's ticking. I don't know how much longer Harold can hold on..." Max taunted with an icy coldness to his tone.

Professor Langdon shook in Shiloh's arms. His body shuddered and he shook his head. "We can't leave him here..." he whispered to the woman who had become his literal guardian angel.

[~N~]

DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 21:15-21:45 PM
LOCATION: Metro Station 43, Moscow, Russia.

The next twenty minutes was a confluence of forces all vying for one thing: the Winterstar. And Victor was at the center of this storm of bloodshed and sacrifice.

Bullets and shots rang out and ricocheted, echoes sounding through the arched canopy of the subway station and calling down the tunnels. Muzzlefire lit up the tiles and walls with flashes of deadly light, signals of each life-taking bullet singing its savage way through the chaos, through the miasma of confusion, screams, automatic weapons and bodies.

Tony stepped forward, holding two automatic sub-machine guns, one in each hand. The first shot to hit him caught him in his bloated midsection but aside from a stumble and shocked grunt, but he grimaced, roared and splattered the chest of the shooter with six bullets in return, sending the henchman flying backwards into the excavated pit.

"Take that, you Russian piece of shit!" Big Tony yelled. Sammie was standing beside him, blasting away with automatic pistols, laying out Russian officer and criminal lackey alike. Big Tony just kept coming, one step at a time, blasting his way here and there, swiveling and turning like a machine-gunner's turret in a nest under siege.

Yuri saw two of his men, each one to the side of him get blown away by the spray of shots from the two American gangsters; terror and surprise on his face as he ducked to the ground out of instinct. There he was, laying among the bodies as his other men came up around him, one firing off several shots that managed to strike Sammy in his other leg and midsection, causing him to drop to his knees in pain, crying out.

Tony swung around and seeing Sammy on the floor, shot in the direction of the police, laying out two more bodies the fell with twitching blood and cries near the prone Yuri. Sammy dropped two more, and bared his teeth with tears coming out of eyes. "Goddamn it, Tone! It hurts so goddamn bad! I think I'm dyin' Tone!"

"Get your fat ass up, Sammy! I'm warnin' ya! I'll leave your fat fucking ass here if I gotta carry ya! Get the fuck up!"

Tony leaned over to lift his American-Italian gangster friend up off his knees, struggling with his own bleeding wounds, laying down one of his guns to do so. He nearly had him up, Sammy's legs trembling and shaking, unable to support the girth that they formerly held when they weren't shot through. But just as he managed to get his feet under him, the harrowing blast of a shotgun was heard.

"Fuck you," came the two words through thick Russian accent. Sammy was hurtled back, a wide red juicy splattering hole splattered all over his chest.

"Holy fu--" Tony stumbled back in horror. Sammy's body was thrown against a pillar, and slumped down, his eyes wide with glassy death, his mouth open, his finger triggering off a few stray rounds from his weapons--one that nearly missed Tony's shoes. The big mob leader stumbled back, barely registering that the next shotgun shell could be for him.

When he finally did turn around to face him, he barely caught a glimpse of Boris's grinning face, shotgun loaded with a deadly *click*, barrel aimed right at him when darkness descended upon them all.

"Keep going straight ahead," came the hushed voice in Sarina's ear. "I feel it... getting stronger... Victor has it... keep going... just a little... closer..."

[Rook]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 8:15 PM
Location: The Sacred Valley, Interior of Peru

Not a second after his outburst, Lance stood, nose to muzzle with a .38. He nearly stumbled back in his shock, but seemed to quickly regain his composure. And he made not a motion. He simply stared down the barrel for the duration of Ben’s speech, Guiliana’s intervention, and right up to the cool down point.

And without another word, the group carried on. At the moment they reached the mouth of the next cavern, Lance proceeded to fall back and walk at Guiliana’s pace, irritated look plastered on.

“Look, let’s get this straight.” He began in a low voice, as not to alert their other companions. “That was no pissing contest. I wasn’t ‘protecting my territory’… Neither you, nor Stephanie are mine. You’re free to associate with whomever you wish. That wasn’t me asserting my dominance… Nothing Neanderthalic like that. I simply am not a fan of this Ben guy. No matter how much it hurts you to hear this, if you took off with him after this when he has his precious, well, I guess that would be your decision. It’s not really my problem, and therein, I don’t care. But until we find this rock, I have to deal with him, and I don’t like it. So I decided to antagonize him. Get it right. I’m not here because we’re all watching out for each other… I’m here for the same reason he is… The same reason I suspect you are. Unless of course it’s just some strange coincidence that you led us straight to where we needed to be. In which case, until I have that proof, I’m going to believe otherwise. So until something notable happens that makes me find trust in your intent, enjoy your stay in Casa Del Dank Ass Cave.” And with nothing more to say, he moved forward, not waiting for a response.

Light Headedness, and tangible shadows. He was falling out of sync again.

Date: December 21, 1386
Time: 12:30 AM
Location: Sacred Valley, Temple of Coniraya; Entrance Cavern

Lance’s line of sight quickly leapt forward in the direction of their travel. The twenty odd men stood at the base of a great altar. Before them stood the worshipers of Coniraya, the moon deity, weapons drawn. They had them out numbered, but two of the men had already been slain. A dark voice eminated from where his consciousness lie.

“Do not stand idle… Kill them. A sacrifice to me glory… And then bring me my offering…”

The fight ensued. Bloodshed. More than a few from both sides were killed. And then, in the peak of the conflict, the leader of the Moon Cabal drew up the holy symbol of her God, and held it before the leader of the cloaked men. Darkness swirled around him, and he stumbled back screaming. She continued to storm towards him as the darkness dissipated, then grew stronger, and dissipated again. Finally, the man ceased his attack. Seeing their leader halt, his followers stopped as well. It was then Lance felt his consciousness take shape as feet fell softly onto the floor. He strode forward, something cold in his hand, and thrust into the back of the defeated leader. His body slumped, and he lie motionless.

“You claim to be our god of death, but you are nothing but an imposter.” The woman said to him, raising her symbol of power once more, as his incarnation began to charge her. Clearly the move was one too reckless. He suddenly reeled back, bathed in light. And then, darkness.

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 8:55 PM
Location: The Sacred Valley, Interior of Peru

Lance snapped back to reality, and was greeted by confusion. Stephanie very suddenly charged at Ben, arms drawn forward, and flung him to the ground, biting wildly into his throat. Lance was awestruck. He hated Ben. Had from the moment he saw him. Figured him out immediately. But eaten alive by a teenage girl? He only wished that on the stupid people it happened to in horror movies.

And then she rose from the lifeless man, brandishing his pistol. Now they had a problem. She edged closer and closer to the altar, which he now realized was not only the same one from the most recent vision, but also from his dream. His prophesy. The incarnation of his very destiny. He would have that stone. All that he had to do was put an end to this crazy little girl’s onslaught, and take it before she had the chance.

“Oh fuck the hell yes” Stephanie said, aiming her gun in the direction of Lance and Guiliana. .

If there had ever been a time for him to think up a snappy plan, now was it. His mind snapped fast, and he had his strategy

“Stephanie, come on, put the gun away. We can talk about this.” He called out, not really expecting it to work. He just didn’t expect it to go so badly. A shot rang out and a bullet zipped past his head. He then found the gun training directly on his forehead.

"Don't you dare call me by the same name as that bitchy girl. My name is Evalon" She stared him down with murderous intent. Lance’s pleading face turned into a smirk at the sight of her rage.

“Thanks for the memo…” He began, as his visage began to waver. And then the voice appeared right behind her. “I’ll log that away.” He said as he entirely vanished, reappeared right behind her, and slammed a closed fisted backhand as hard as he could into her temple. As she recoiled, he stood, staring at her triumphantly, as more visions of himself began to spread around her. Now surrounded by eight in all, the troop of Lances laughed. Seemingly from everywhere, his voice rang out.

“You should have stayed in your padded cell girl. Where it was safe. Now you’ve gone too far down the rabbit hole… You’ve met an entirely different kind of freak. Something you’ve never encountered… And you want to hear the kicker? You’re not ready. And you’ll never be ready. Because we’ll be taking the stone, and the gun. And if you resist, your life.”

[Mysteria]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 10:30 – 11:30 AM
LOCATION: Nekhen, Egypt inside the Mastaba tomb.



"Shiloh Thompson! This is my last warning to you. Give over the jewel, or I will open fire on you and your friend."

Max Miller's words resounded throughout the tomb, echoing down into the hole where Shiloh held the trembling professor. Had anyone told Shiloh just a few short years ago that she would be where she was at this moment in time she would have scoffed at the idea, would even have been afraid of the idea. Instead, at that very moment in time she felt no fear at all. Her focus remained sharp, her eyes trained directly on Max Miller as lies spewed forth from his mouth.

Shiloh knew without a shadow of a doubt that none of them would be walking out of there alive other than Max and Sarah. Gunshots echoed off of the walls in the tight quarters around them and Shiloh watched in horror as Dr. Ashton fell into the hole, somehow managing to grab the ledge and hang on.

But for how long?

The same thought must have went through the professors mind just then because she felt him shivering hard in her arms. Instinctively Shiloh drew one wing around the professor providing some small shield from Miller's bullets flying wildly around them while he pretended to reason with her. Only a fool would have believed him. Even the way he said her name, "Shilo" tauntingly was an indication that he was not speaking the truth.

"I will find and kill you."


What he really meant was he he'd kill them all, right here and now. He wanted the stone, and he was evil.

And Shiloh was not going to let the stone fall into his hands.

"Max... please," Harold groaned from his place, hanging in the pit, "Don't do this. Thomas never asked for any of this. He doesn't deserve it. He's a good man. I'm asking you to spare him and the woman. Please."

This man, Harold Ashton had done nothing intentionally to harm her or the professor. And now his life as well as hers and the professors hung in the balance.


"We can't leave him here..."


Shiloh Thompson cringed when she heard the plea in the mans voice she now held within her protective embrace. In his voice she heard his fear and immediately hated herself for having brought him to this, for having put them all in this position. Without another moments hesitation with one bold move she was spurred into action, her voice low as she answered the professor "I'm not leaving anyone here professor, hang on"

Shiloh flew higher directly towards Miller, her new found strength allowing her to hold the professor comfortably with one arm wrapped around his waist while her wings took them upward. Her other hand was outstretched, reaching forward as they neared the opening with gunshots whizzing all around them, Shiloh curling one wing around the professor protectively.

The professor clung to Shiloh, seeking shelter from the bullets, trembling, and as Shiloh neared Miller his aim seemed to get better. She weaved and bobbed back and forth trying to avoid the bullets and still reach her destination, a sudden rush of warmth hitting her skin like a thousand lit candles dripping hot wax upon her flesh simultaneously. Her blood felt like it was on fire as she reached out with her free hand to grab Ashton while continuing to fly in a direct path towards Miller who was ignoring his secretary's pleas for him to stop his madness.


Shiloh felt strange as she flew. She'd heard of adrenaline rushes, and knew that each person was affected differently by them but she'd never expected this....this whatever it was that caused her to feel as though her blood was boiling only to be followed by ice cold. Whatever it was that made her feel strong, almost invincible but yet that she was growing weaker by the minute. Whatever it was that made her feel almost dizzy, and at the same time exhilarated and more alive than she'd ever felt before. She was oblivious to anything other than the need to protect life, and the stone.

Gripping Ashton's wrist with her free hand Shiloh lifted him to safety and immediately turned, using her body as a shield to protect the two men and wrapping her arms around them as she extended her wings fully on both sides of her. Without looking behind her she quickly landed and placed both men's feet on the ground as she released her hold on them. Shiloh felt the phantasmal like wings colliding with considerable force as they hit their intended object, the man holding the gun, she using them as weapons to hopefully knock him off balance and buy them some short amount of time.

Sarah Richard's screams immediately filled her ears and the ancient tomb as Shiloh froze, and then the angel finally spun, ready to come face to face with the man who had been willing to kill for the stone, the man known as Miller.

[Aheris]

Date:August 20th, 2042.
Time: 8:50 PM
Location: Sacred Valley, somewhere underground

They were getting close to the Teardrop...very close. She tried to tell herself it was the anticipation and adrenaline she felt coursing through her veins. She knew damn well it wasn't though. Her hidden self was coming out to play; she could feel her sharp, sharp teeth brushing her lower lip. Her skin was tingling, and her blood was hot...her heart was pounding slowly, but steadily. The tension was building...she stretched her legs, itching to move faster toward her goal.

Guiliana silently exhaled as Ben swiftly pulled back his gun. They resumed walking in the damp; the strange smell of mildew, salt, rock, and cool water wafting by. The sandy earth beneath their feet crunched somewhat as they walked, but was wet enough to be really only noticeable to Guiliana. Her heels were sinking slightly into the moist ground, her attire typically unsuited to less than civilized conditions.

Lance was talking to her in the space left in the half-darkness. He was trying to come back at what she'd said, trying to reassert himself, to prove that he wasn't the simple creature she had painted out to Ben. Maybe he understood, maybe he didn't...what she said wasn't all for him. She heard his voice fading away as he implied that she would leave him behind for Ben. This part he definitely did not understand. Ben was physically attractive, sure. He might even be seen as closer to Guiliana in money and background. But Guiliana saw him as a mole for Max and a slave to those interests. That made him a toy, a plaything, not a human being in her eyes.

The passageway opened into a wider cavern, and Guiliana breathed in deeply. Her senses were heightened, eyes taking in a wash of silver drops, cool air brushing the hairs on the back of her neck. The gusts felt like gentle fingertips, caressing her eyelids and cheeks...running barely through her hair...Her heart pounded louder as they walked towards the blue basin. Each of them saw this treasure as their answer. It was the object of all their hopes and lusts.

Ravenous for the prize as she was, Guiliana walked her measured pace. Perhaps her appetite was aroused for other fare as well...As the thought tickled her fancy, Stephanie took the iniative. Guiliana watched as Stephanie struggled with Ben.

Stephanie reached for Ben's gun...once, twice...wrestled...Then sunk her fangs deep, opening up Ben's jugular. She feasted upon him ecstatically, grabbing onto him with her visibly broken fingers and pressing her body against his as his lifeblood was taken into her, filling her up to the eyes. She turned the gun on Lance and Guiliana, drunk on her newfound self hood.

Lance tried to talk her down, but Stephanie-Evalon was having none of that. His figure shimmered and reappeared, taking Stephanie and Guiliana by surprise...luckily for Guiliana it connected to Stephanie's temple without delay.

That gun and those red eyes were too...uncouth for my liking.

In the moment that Lance’s ringing laugh filled the chamber, eight different images crowded around. As Lance stared down at Stephanie, who was crumpled once more on the ground, Guiliana took two sliding, barely visible steps to the pedestal. Lance was still chastising Stephanie while Guiliana slipped her fingers into the cool water of the bowl. She wrapped her fingers around the Teardrop, eyes lighting up with triumph.

In that moment, she felt both stronger and hungrier than she had ever remembered being. Turning a visibly pointier grin on Lance, she chuckled:

“Let’s get out of here, shall we?”

[Kris]

“But I don't want to go among mad people," Alice remarked.

"Oh, you can't help that," said the Cat: "we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."

"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice.

"You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn't have come here.”


***


DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 22:00 PM
LOCATION: Metro Station 43, Moscow, Russia.


Darkness...

Demonic, almost unseen curtains and layers of a misty dark fog covered her eyes. Sarina had some difficulties perceiving the full dimension and aspects of the space around her, now that no light has returned to color the objects and movements. Her other senses were numb by her own will and yet, although she figured she wouldn't be able to 'feel' how to react and according to what in the coming encounters, she decided to continue and block them in order to prevent herself from losing to the paralyzing fear she knew she would feel the moment she would choose to 'feel' again.

Who wouldn't feel frightened with this absurd, terrifying situation?

Behind her Anatoliy exhaled slowly, his respiration somewhat heavy, not very organized and husky. Even his presence became more obvious around her.

At that moment she realized...

"You did it... Didn't you?", Sarina spoke slowly for the first time in a long while, but even without his answer she knew she was right. She felt the gun digging and rolling up and down against the intersection of her shoulder blades, slowly, teasingly, right on the line of her spin. This action only justified her suspects; She knew him for barely a week, but it was enough to learn that he always acted if he was being found or pushed against the corner.

He chuckled and with a swift movement, that should have otherwise caused her to shiver and blush terribly, she felt his fingers digging around her ear as he allowed them to entangle with the tips of her hair. Clearing them aside he whispered, his teeth but a breath away from her lobe, "I don't like your tune....".

I take it as a 'yes' then...

"Move it!", her ordered with a soft pat from his gun.

"I... I Can't see..."

"It's all right, the others shouldn't be able to see as well... Now move it!... We are... Very close, my dear..."

She pushed herself away from him as she continued onward, Anatoliy's steps behind her as they followed her clumsy lead. Luckily, it turned out that her new sense of 'vision' and 'perception' could adjust to this lack of light which caused her 'sight' to be less accurate; She was now able to 'view' in terms of a poor 'night vision' sight: she couldn't see much far ahead, but some heat dots were still visible regardless. Swift movements, on the other hand, were hard to catch without wasting additional resources and energy to find, and since there was a lot of action around, coming from more than just one location in this entire place, Sarina figured she should just focus ahead, at Victor's supposed whereabouts, hoping the bullets would miss her now that she presumed the others were blinded by this mask of enigmatic night as well.

She felt herself growing steadily stronger. There was not much to do about her vision, but she almost 'heard' the electrons and the static electricity calling her and letting her know of the active power that lied half dormant under her feet, right through the metallic tubes of the railings.

It wouldn't be long now...

The urge to sink into the 'stream' of that power was great, but she knew she needed to get a little more closer to Victor, to the star, in order to enchant her strength.

More steps...

Weak...

Slow...

calculated...

While noises, screams and Shouts didn't pierce her little piece of heaven that was cut short of mortal senses, she still felt them all moving around the further she advanced...

At least those that were alive...

She felt them dying around her, but she was untouched by it. She had a plan to execute.

Some more paces...

Now a bit more rushed...

Less heavy...

And then she sensed him, his aura...

Victor's...

Anatoliy's missing presence at that point was as obvious as a thunder on a bright sunny day.

Where was he?!

She felt insecure now, but quickly raised her defenses again; She couldn't lose her self control just yet. Instead, she decided to use this opportunity, now that he was gone, even if she didn't know where was he, or what his following actions were to be...

Which, granted, she never truly knew to begin with...

Heeding this self persuading thought she started to 'dive' inward...

Her eyes flickered as she closed herself within her own 'wonderland'; cold world of thoughts and ponders; where one's mind can be 'shoved' outside of its normal limits of the body and the senses.

Perfect void without walls and borders.

'Sinking' into it more and more and more she did, until she was sucked completely , trying to connect herself with the power around her while using her body as a catalyst to push her 'soul' further ahead .

The whole process was a difficult one to get used to and her body shivered and sweated from the efforts. After all, normally, a person couldn't just send his own "being" into waves of another space or another dimension, and that was why she didn't know how to fully 'move' within this 'stream', or how to keep her will strong enough to send her orders all across those waves.

Frankly, it was much easier to just run away, find the main system's machine and press some buttons.

But it couldn't be helped now, for she was already not there... literally...

Synchronization was achieved.

She "dispatched" her "essence" into the conductor, which was the train's rail below her feet, the "bridge" to connect her with the main computer she wanted to reach for. Visions passed beside her at the speed of light, and aside of some "zapping" noises which were probably the system's awareness to this " invader" which was Sarina's awareness in a trespasser form, not much was capable to be described of her surrounding, because it wasn't something she could just "feel" or "see" with the normal five senses; The whole swift journey was a level above all of that, a normal human couldn't grasp it, a mixture of elevation above the mortal's limits of mind, spirit, body and soul followed by unification with a force stronger than any individual energy could be.

Forming into one, rejoicing with its acceptances, like enchanting power that also absorb you to be part of it; something, that once you "taste" the feeling of, you cannot be divided from, nor you actually would want to...

To a certain degree the best way to describe what she saw and felt would be like the humans' evidences of enlightenment sensations in terms of a cybernetic carnival. Divine (aka: the whole bright light at the end of the tunnel, as some would suggest) yet still synthetic.

As much as she couldn't explain it to herself (or to the others if they ever asked) where and through what she was going, Sarina felt herself capable of understanding so much without a real need to actually learn it; the information just gathered into her mind, as long as allowed her flashy dot of energy self to be part of this great thing.

And she welcomed it, even without knowing why. No questions were needed once you understood the big picture.

But... Pondering at the corner of her mind was a fear...

The fear of forgetting herself within this mess of information was great and well obvious to her for there was no need of "individual awareness" to exist within this life of utopia, which should otherwise be preserved with a "body", or other form of 'limits'.

Sarina couldn't allow herself to get lost within so many ideals and powers, and, although she felt herself torn to shards and forced to merge into this cessation, she fought her best against the domination of so many levels of wills that worked as one and now joined together against her...

So, while struggling to pave her way for the "Mother Brain", she felt bits of herself lost forever into this surrounding's mess. What she lost there that day, she may never know or never recover, but if she had ever stopped, even for a slight moment to think what had she abandoned in this shaky road under her feet, she might have lost everything, including herself, to this isolated zone.

So... as unsteady as the 'ground' was, with much to risk and much to lose, there was something about this place that justified the price... Even if she really didn't know what she was getting herself into before, once she was inside... She just wanted to keep moving and see what was waiting for her up ahead....

Little by little she got used to the surroundings, where were mostly numbers and matrices, dots of lights that shone so brightly and faded too quickly for one to see, and when she fully had a grasp of how to handle it, she felt less 'objection' to her will and commends.

They slowly accepted her...

And yet, as much as the sea was unsteady and changing, so was this electrical current. As she swam onward she knew this tranquility wouldn't less long, for any system would try to reach balance in the end, and she was a virus, a 'factor' that tried to change the normal function of the working constitution, and it wouldn't be long before IT would fight against her again...

Before that happened, however, she ordered her new laws, stating her desire, objecting the regime that was previously programmed and changing it to what she wanted them to do...

Once the circuits connected again she knew she had little time to spare and she hurried 'outside', rushing before she would be fused with this power, never to return from there.

She swam for the surface, the world of the 'body'. The light and sound growing stronger and clearer with every row and push...

...

Her eyes opened up slowly as her body started to shiver. Her legs trembled under her weight as a huge and a terrible headache took over, almost preventing her from keeping coherent. It took her a little while to remember how to breath or even where she was and what she was suppose to do next.

Then came the herald in form of a soft Vibration... And Sarina knew the trains started to move...

Smiling ever so brightly, Sarina couldn't help but being delighted with this small, almost unnoticed effort to stuck a stick into some wheels...

[~N~]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 11:30 AM
LOCATION: Nekhen, Egypt inside the Mastaba tomb.


Miller was taken by surprise. He didn't expect this thing to actually rear up and fly at him, but his calculating abilities instantly locked on to her blazing fast form, and squeezed off two shots, at least one of which he was certain was a direct hit, burying itself in her body as Shiloh charged.

But it did nothing to slow her momentum, and as she collided with him, Maximillian Miller felt his balance give way. His body was built to withstand the impact of her charge, heavier and denser than most human beings, but the collision was still enough to send him half stumbling, half sprawling to the ground, even though he was still able to maintain his grip on his weapon.

Instinctively, he reached out, trying to get his bearings, and felt gravity exact its toll, pulling him into the hole, but not completely. Fingers that would've broken on anyone else dug into the ground and dragged with unrelenting ferocity, straining to slow the descent and hold the weight that raked them over the dry stone floor. Max gritted his teeth and gripped with all the strength in his left hand.

Some grooves offered a much needed hold, and it seemed that at that moment, the angel, Shiloh, was distracted with other things, as he picked up the grunts and cries of relief that signaled Dr. Harold Ashton's rescue at her hands. She was clearly something out of this world--someone who knew the Eye's true purpose... and she couldn't be allowed to have it. He strained and gritted his teeth again. Goddamn it, he thought. There was no way he was going to be able to pull himself out of here and keep his grip on the gun at the same time.

Sarah's scream echoed through the chamber. "Max!" she cried out, "Max! Are you okay?!" She obviously couldn't see much, as her eyes were still adjusting to the darkness after the blinding light that Shiloh had illuminated the chamber with a moment ago. Sarch got to her feet and ran over to where her employer had stood. She saw his hands--one holding onto a groove in the stone floor, the other gripping his gun--and his blue eyes, glowing now, looking up at her, like a machine.

"Max, goddamn it! What's gotten into you! You're being crazy! You'll end up costing us any chance of exploring these ruins or ever coming back here again once people find out what's happened!" she scolded him in a half-concerned, half-hysterical voice.

"Sarah, she has the Eye. She has it. That's what we came here for. Get me out of this damn hole. Now." His blue iris's glowed with the intent of a being that understood its purpose, and was unfazed by the previous moment's events.

Sarah glanced over at Shiloh, whose back was turned, as she made sure the two professors were alright. Then she glanced back at Max, who stared back at her, unblinking, unrepentant.

"Now, Sarah," he said, through a voice that imparted no emotion whatsover--only a direct unyielding command.

Hesitatingly, timidly, she reached out a shaking hand and braced herself. He latched onto her and immediately pulled, and she gripped his left arm with both hands. Throwing her back into it, with her feet dug in, she pulled him up.

Max recovered quickly, standing up without fatigue, anxiety, or fear, again, like an automation, completely unnaturally.

Haji saw this and stepped forward, just as Shiloh turned around to see Max rise to his feet. "Stop, sir, I will not allow you to do this any longer. You are desecrating our mastaba ruins here, and you have offended me, and everyone else in this chamber. You will go with me to answer for your act--"

"Shut up, native," Max shot back, clearly lacking any patience for the Egyptian's reprimands. The businessman sent forth his left hand, newly freed, and suddenly, Haji felt his body stiffen with a sensation not unlike bugs crawling into his veins. As he fell swiftly to this paralysis, and dropped to his knees, scratching at his skin with an expression of confusion and horror, he glanced up to glimpse the slightest measure of a smile on Max's lips.

"My god..." Sarah said, witnessing this and throwing her hands over her mouth, knowing not what to do, stunned by the things she continued to witness, things that should not be happening...

"Shiloh," Max said with the same cadence in his voice as before. "Last chance Shiloh..." He raised this gun, his calculations quickly zeroing in and minimizing the chance of missing by less than 3.6%.

"Give me the stone, Shiloh..." he commanded the angel, raising his left hand in a threatening gesture, capable of doing to her whatever he just did to Haji.

[~N~]

Date: August 21st, 2042 ---> August 20th, 2042
Time: 9:00 PM
Location: Somewhere beneath Choquequirao, Sacred Valley, Underground

Giving Nicolai a wide-eyed look and shutting up the heavy book, he said, stating the very obvious, "We have to get out of here!"

Nicolai looked at Father Francis and then thought for a moment.

“Which way Father? We haven’t come this far to turn around now.”

But there was nothing left for Father Francis to hold on to as the stone beneath his feet crumbled and gave way to the sound of a roaring river beneath them. Father Francis and Nicolai both plummeted into the dark, raging waters that rushed into the chasm they plunged into, losing sight of each other in the darkness.

Clasping the tome desperately in a vain attempt to keep it as dry as possible, Father Francis's body was thrown about and smashed against rocks and cut upon sharp jutting edges, the points of cavernous stalactites and scraping stones. The waters were freezing and unforgiving, and in the turbulence of that dark river, Father Francis shut his eyes tight and prayed for a miracle.

More than anything, he regretted now bringing Nicolai with him. The young man did not deserve this; punishment for his own selfish quest for the relic, the Teardrop of the ancient Incan deities. He sent his thoughts into the darkness and for a moment, time out of time, a voice answered, in the roaring rushing torrent of the river:

"Father, Father... have you lost your way? Led the little lamb astray?" It possessed a mocking tone; one that was familiar to Father Francis, and if he could cry, he would have, for it seemed, even now, in the crushing, cold darkness of the relentless raging water, this voice now came to him.

"Begone, foul daemon! I have not come all this way to sacrifice myself to you," he shot back, although it wasn't words that were said from his lips--it was as though his spirit were separated from his physical form, alone in the void with this entity.

"Oh Father," it called back with an amused, sardonic tone, "Do you honestly believe this was ever about you? We want what you want. We always have. We need it... to be free."

"GO AWAY!" he shouted back with his quavering spiritual voice.

But to no avail, for the spirit would not stop haunting him.

"No," it replied. "I want... what they want. And I'm going to get it. One way... or another."

"NO! I won't let you!"

"Then you..." the spirit taunted, "... and the boy shall die here. And that's not all, Father... the boy has one who would be devastated if he were to never come home."

"NO! Don't punish him..." Father Bernardo Francis wept, deep inside his soul, deep with despair, "Please don't punish him... he didn't... deserve this."

"Who 'deserves' anything, Father? God does not care about you, or him, or us. God does not care what becomes of you or this world," it continued, "But we do, Father... we do."

"What do you want from me?" Father Francis replied, sobbing and heaving.

"Why... your life... and soul, of course!"

"NEVER!" he howled back, his body and spirit in agony.

"Not even... for him? Not even... for Nicolai?" it goaded.

"Please... God please..."

"God can't help you, Father..."

"God... please..."

"What is it going to be, Father? Your life is fading fast... your soul will soon be spent, and he will soon be parted from his beyond our reach," it commanded, "Make your decision, Father."

"Swear that he will live!" he cried back, his voice drowning on icy despair.

"Oh we swear," the voice promised, "he will do more than just live."

"Yes," the word was as silent as if it was mouthed from a corpse... and in that moment, Father Francis's spirit, his soul was consumed, swallowed by the void, into the blackness of eternity.

The currents flowed backwards, and swept round the shadows of the two souls caught within them, sending them down into the gulch and belly of the world, until, after what seemed like a dark and twisted flume into the very bowels of the earth itself, Nicolai and Father Francis were washed out into a cavern of luminous light...

... a cavern that had four other people who were not what they seemed already vying for a single Teardrop that could be found only there.

Meanwhile, Nicolai came back to consciousness, not knowing that Time has flown backwards, and that what was done, had been undone, and what was taken, had been spared, and that the fight that broke out now before him among the girl named Stephanie, the woman named Guiliana, the young man named Ben, and the other young man named Lance, was but a shadow and a game of the Powers that swirled around this relic--Powers that wanted it to be found...

Powers beyond the judgment of the mortals fighting here, vying for control, pawns in a bigger game.

And now Nicolai was placed into play, at the cost of Father Francis's life and soul, to move the pieces forward, the way these Powers wanted.

And all this was unknown and unseen by him--and them--except for perhaps one, but even he didn't see the whole board just yet.

Father Francis lay upon his back, his body broken, his arms outstretched, the currents lapping him against the rocky shore beside Nicolai who now woke beside him.

The thick Tome he carried remained... untouched by the waters.

[~N~]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 9:00 PM
Location: Sacred Valley, Underground

Lance was still chastising Stephanie while Guiliana slipped her fingers into the cool water of the bowl. She wrapped her fingers around the Teardrop, eyes lighting up with triumph.

In that moment, she felt both stronger and hungrier than she had ever remembered being. Turning a visibly pointier grin on Lance, she chuckled:

“Let’s get out of here, shall we?”

Some girls should never be underestimated...

It happened so fast, she moved so quickly, that for Benjamin Frakes, it was a blur of instinct, reaction and surprise...

... and then powerlessness as Stephanie's fangs sunk into his neck. Ben gasped and winced, feeling the strength in his body and legs give out as the young girl became stronger while she drained him. Once she was done, he barely registered the events that transpired afterwards, allowing her to drop him into the water, his gun taken from him, Lance's mocking laughter and words like echoes in the dizzy miasma of his momentarily stunned and recovering senses.

His consciousness reemerged and came together just in time for him to glance up and see Guiliana take the Teardrop. But that was not the thing that sent a shivering fire down through his veins--it was the glinting white show of fangs upon that woman as well! Were they all vampires?! he thought to himself with concern and worry.

No. He would not repeat his mistake and underestimate a second woman, who shared far too much in common with the first one for his liking.

Unbeknownst to anyone else, Benjamin Frakes was blessed with an immune system and body that recovered much quicker than the average man's, and with the proximity of the Teardrop, his regenerative abilities kicked into overdrive, his senses became razor sharp, his eyes narrowed and became beady, and his muscles twitched in a quick reflex.

In a sudden flash that no one could've foreseen, he leaped at Guiliana like a wet brown blur, snatching the stone away literally with his teeth from her hand and bounding off with splashes in the direction of two figures who had just washed down into the cavern quite by accident. One appeared to be a priest of some kind. His eyes, capable of seeing in the gloom, watched them warily, his nose and whiskers working overtime to discern their scent. He could detect nothing familiar.

Whipping back around, he dropped the Teardrop into his paw and hunched up, hopping back, almost out of reflex and animalistic warning, mouth and teeth open and bared. His body was longer, more flexible, and he had a tail now as well.

"The Teardrop is coming with me!" he cried out, in a half-hissing voice, his beady eyes glimmering in the dark. "Stay back! Don't try anything or you'll never see it again!"

He was panicking. It wasn't a terribly well-thought out move, but at least he knew what he was dealing with. In his heart, Ben wasn't exactly a fighter, and even now, his beady eyes scanned the cavern for quick exit... a hole... anything to get him out of here.

[~N~]

DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 22:00-22:15 PM
LOCATION: Metro Station 43, Moscow, Russia.

Darkness... from out of nowhere! Did the power just get cut?

Tony wondered for the momentary brief silence the heralded the sudden arrival of the cloak of shadows about the entire station. Moans and gasps and footsteps echoed through the chamber reminding those within of the heat, bodies and bullets that still inhabited it, of the purpose they all served.

"MOTHERFUCKER!!" Tony bellowed out, raising his arms with guns in hand forward to where he saw Boris stand, and with flashes of rage, heat and light, lit up the corridors, the station, and the swallowing darkness with the fury of his retaliation, pumping and sending shots of hot lead into the belly of his Russian adversary, the one who took the life of his close associate and partner. Tony would avenge his death as only an Italiano-American gangster could: with a storm of furious bullets.

Boris's body shook and convulsed as his own fingers squeezed off a few errant rounds, sent on their trajectory in the death-throes of a bodyguard who had seen his days in battle and war, and would've taken more than a few ax-chops to fell. But now, with his body bleeding out of no less than twenty-three different holes, he trembled, shook, and felt the cold, seeping touch of death course through his veins, and unconsciously dropped to his knees. It felt like they were giving out from underneath him without his permission. He was struck with the burning sharp pain that filled his gurgling, drowning lungs, his agonizing heartbeat, his choking mortality close in around him as he felt the noise of his fading hearing, the darkness about his eyes, the suffocating pillow of death envelope him as he struggled to get his lips and fingers to obey his commands...

A few more flashing rounds and he was down, and dead upon the ground, a seeping leak of crimson slipping from his cheek and mouth upon the blood-splattered tile... Complete collapse.

"DON'T think you can take ME with this darkness, Anatoliy! I know you're out there!" Victor cried out, revealing his knowledge of the perpetrator of this new phenomenon.

He grabbed the pulsing light of the Winterstar--cold and icy to the touch, gripped in his hands, his very deadly clenching hands, and he held it up, causing it to shine with the radiance of a star and for a moment, it was as if he had set off a flare that lit up the entire subway station with its burning, flickering light.

And so they warred, the shadowy Anatoliy and the radiant Victor, locked in mortal combat as if they had always been meant to. The lightning shot forth from Victor's fingertips, sending the holy vengeance of its power into the startled and shocked body of Anatoliy, who countered with balefire of his own, sending the gout of flame right at his nemesis, wreathing him in the tempest of the licking flames. Victor shot upwards on sudden wings of white, but could not get far, as Anatoliy appeared to call down a curse upon the ceiling, causing stones above to crack and quake above Victor's form, sending unlucky chunks of rock down upon his wings and knocking the half-angel to the ground.

Still, Victor clambered to his feet, and blessing the firearm in his left hand, he sent shots of pure, righteous vengeance at his aggressor and perforated the body of Anatoliy before his illusory images could be made manifest.

And, consumed with this struggle, they lost sight of two important figures still remaining upon the field: Tony, the Mob Boss, and Sarina, the solitary young woman in the dark, who caused the station to rumble, and the very framework to shudder and crumble with the roaring of the trains...

They would all be deafened by the sound, and all of them would be forced to take notice, as the first bodies in the tunnels were sheared and crushed beneath the sheer force of the power of these machines... now given new life by the young woman within, who called to them.

[Ad Infinitum]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 4 - 4:30 AM
LOCATION: Unknown cavern below Bran Castle, Romania



He's lost his mind, was all Tansy James could think. He's lost his fucking mind!

She had known TJ was irked with her; the man had made that much perfectly clear even before Tom showed up. And sure, they were all in a bit of a stressful situation. But to completely flip out was just inexcusable, and completely inconvenient. Well, there went her plans for keeping their security guard around.

She couldn't help but gasp and take a half step backwards out of instinct when the man swung his gun in her direction. But as TJ continued his rant about the FBI and their weapons and what he was going to do next, Tansy was able to draw a shaking breath and regain at least some of her composure. It wasn't the first time a man had acted irrationally around her when he didn't get what he wanted. And from personal experience, Tansy had always found that a girl had to remain strong to keep the situation in control.

Gihst showed tension in a quick pivot of the head, opening a wedge of his features to the light, where one pale eye stared through the divided shadows at the crude iron glint of the Colt 1911. He sucked the sneering corner of his teeth with an agitated squelch, a subtle hand ghosting over one cloaked kukri hugging at his ribs. That vulturous eye bolt latched onto TJ’s nape.

A quick stick and twist between the vertebrae, he thought, visualizing. The pop of skin rupturing around a blade, like a needle punched through wet leather. How smooth and clean the meat and sinews would part before the wet crack of dislocated bone finished it. Then TJ would shiver out like a clubbed fish…

…no, he hesitated when his gaze flickered past Tansy and Fynn. Severing the spine could send TJ into convulsions, he could reflexively squeeze off a bullet – Gihst couldn’t gamble with a possible crossfire. With the phantom smell of prospective blood still lingering in his nose, his hand slipped from the kukri.

Then those grey eyes trailed up the barrel of that 45 when TJ suddenly wheeled on him. There, Gihst found the stare of a cornered dog; panicked and unpredictable, dangerous. TJ had to be defused quickly…

…give him the illusion of complete control, he measured and seized the thought.

“…Fynn,” Gihst rasped evenly, a strange cord in his voice. “Give’im th’ gun. Dinnae ge’ pig-headed naew…” Wait, he thought. Wait.

Thomas’ hard eyes peered through the darkness toward the direction of the strange man when he spoke. It was but a glance, however, a momentary shift of attention before it was centered once more upon the offending figure and the gun he was waving around to the three of them. To give up his only means of defense after going through the trouble of obtain it was a difficult thing to do. In silence the gears turned within his mind, a brilliant mind for healing turned toward weighing the pros and cons of doing exactly the opposite. A doctor was not meant to take life. They had a higher calling... Yet here they were and if given the chance he would gladly shoot TJ just now.

Tansy shrugged. "Fine by me. I thought I'd go up last anyway. Keeps you boys from peeking up my skirt."

Her blue eyes turned in the darkness to meet with Thomas', and she gave him a short nod as she held out a hand for his gun. Of course they shouldn't give up the only defenses they had against the Bureau, but at the moment, the little party didn't have much of a choice. It would be better to let TJ think they were giving up to diffuse the situation. Perhaps it would even relax his defenses a bit.

Those words seemed to defuse the situation a bit. Leave it to Tansy to find some way to joke in a high stress situation and call them all perverts at the same time. Why would Tomas peek up her skirt when the moment they were alone he'd be taking it off completely? The answer to such a question was beside the point and completely irrelevant to the situation at hand. TJ had timed his betrayal well and it seemed as though there was no way out. With a heavy, regretful sigh Thomas placed the gun within the woman's smaller hand.

When the doctor handed her the weapon, however, Tansy didn't toss it to the ground as instructed. Instead, she turned the handle towards the former marine and extended her arm toward him.

Tansy took a step forward, her slim fingers tightly gripping the barrel of the gun as she leveled her gaze with TJ's. "It's a real shame to see you leave the party so soon," she said with a smile that was just barely perceptible in the darkness. "I had promised to make a few things up to you later, remember?"

Her words were friendly, but her voice was quiet and cold. And those blue eyes narrowed just enough to communicate that the confrontation wasn't quite over, even if TJ did possess both weapons. I had you, Tansy's eyes seemed to say with a wicked gleam. I had you wrapped around my finger.

TJ watched all of them as they registered his change of heart from one to the next. He watched them, and narrowed his steady gaze in clear warning that if any one of them got any ideas about turning this thing around, he would personally break them in half after putting one or more bullets through their bodies.

Reasonably, they complied, Gihst issuing the (smart) remark that the good Doctor shouldn't try anything stupid in a situation like this.

So Tansy moved towards him with the gun, handle first, aimed at herself in her own seductive, flirtatious bitchy little way. Fuck you, he thought. Fuck you. You've got nothing. I'm getting as far away from you as possible. You're nothing but show.

He couldn't justify his narrow-eyed rage, her cold, icy-calm demeanor unnerving him most of all, specifically because if anyone here was a true killer, it was the one that could just turn the emotions off. The surprise was that it was the woman of the group. That surprise was mitigated by the fact that this is just one more thing about Miss James he probably didn't want to know about. It made him even gladder that she would be staying behind till last.

Fucking femme fatale... right here amongst them. She would use her sweet charms to offer your poison in a juicy apple, just before she fucking killed you. Bitch.

The other two knobs would never even suspect her. But TJ wasn't fooled any longer. He would take no more chances.

His hand whipped out and snapped up the gun before she even saw him grab it, his eyes never leaving her, while simultaneously keeping the other two in the periphery of his vision.

He no sooner took the firearm than he nearly jumped back, bearing both guns now in front of him.

With a tilting gesture of Tom's pistol, he motioned for the Doctor to go towards the "rope". "Gihst, take him up. I'll wait with the lady down here. Tom, you try anything stupid and I'll blow her pretty fucking head right off her shoulders. No amount of med school is going to help you put her back together again after that. So move. And if you even think of trying anything before I get to the top, I'll unload every bullet I can into all of you."

"Once I get to the top and get away, you three can go in peace, I don't give a fuck what you do. I'm gone. That's it."

Bullshit, Gihst jeered inwardly, statuesque but for the small twitch of a sneer at his gaunt cheek. That promise tasted cheap, like dollar cigarettes. Tansy, Fynn and himself were the loose ends threatening the normal life TJ scrambled for like a rat drowning in a bucket. But corpses cannot talk, cannot spill their guts in interrogation; easier to dupe the Bureau bloodhounds when you had no face, no name – if TJ wasn’t considering this now, he’d mostly certainly be tempted in the realization later on.

Gihst’s eyes drifted down to the cavern floor, searching. There, human skeletons screamed silently up to him from where they laid, forever skewered, upon the antlers of sacrificial red deer. His stare fixated on the cruel points of those scimitar tines, bristling between the dry ribs of a hollowed chest. This chimney had become a natural pitfall trap…

"MOVE!" TJ repeated, this time, raising his voice, keeping the guns on them and ready to fire.

Gihst sighed, his gaze coasting past Fynn as he swayed into a shuffle towards the rope. “…aye,” and the grunt broke off for a sudden, ailing cough. Then pausing briefly to regain his breath, the Scotsman pulled himself up, his boots skidding on the wall until friction snagged them as began his climb. He checked over his shoulder casually, as though careful to avoid snagging himself on a wall protrusion as he disappeared. TJ didn’t have the height to prop-climb against the wall behind him, he’d need both his hands free for the rope, he guessed. Now stifling another cough with a grimace, he swung up an arm to catch the mouth of the opening, a groan emitting from rope and man alike as he dragged himself inside.

There was the hint of muffled cursing before the Scotsman’s ragged voice called down to them. “…ready whin y’aer, Doctor Fynn…”

This situation had certainly turned sour and it left a bad taste in Thomas Fynn’s mouth. TJ was showing himself to be a whole ass, ass hole and all. But having already given the man the only gun he possessed there wasn’t much he could do. It seemed Gihst had the same impression for he was soon scampering up the rope with all the agility of a mountain cat. Technically Tom didn’t need the assistance up. After all just because you’re a doctor doesn’t mean you’re weak and he worked out often. The toned, chiseled definition of his muscled frame was more than adequate proof of that. Still that’s what the gun toting bad ass wanted and so that’s what they did. With a resigned sigh he played the role of willing captive, all the while his mind racing for potential counters.

The rope was rough against Thomas’ palms, biting into the skin as he gripped tight and walked up the wall while Gihst pulled at it to haul him up - the man really was powerful, surprisingly so in fact considering his physique. If there were anyone among this group he was unwilling to take on it would be that one. The guy was just too full of surprises.

At the top they said little and they wouldn’t have any time to plan anyway before TJ got suspicious and did something even more stupid than he already had. If he hurt Tansy… best not to think of such horrid things. With Gihst's help he pulled himself up over the ledge and onto the ground beyond, disappearing from sight to all those who were looking on from below. His eyes darted about the immediate area, spotting where the rope was tied off.

In a moment of crystal clear understanding, Thomas knew exactly what needed doing and it took only a glance from his companion to know he’d had a similar notion. So while he was preparing to descended, Thomas was untying the rope and steadying himself against the rock. For this to work he would need to be steady so he brought the rope behind his back that he might use his full weight against it. His hands gripped it tight while Gihst climbed back down, careful not to let it slip even slightly. If he played his part right, TJ would have no idea the rope had been unsecured and could be dropped at any moment. The trap was set…

Alright you bastard…come and get me, Thomas thought.

Tansy's blue eyes followed Gihst and then Thomas up the chimney into the darkness beyond. She wasn't nervous about being left behind. It wasn't just the assumption that the other two men wouldn't leave her alone with their newest enemy, but also the knowledge that she could easily escape through the little passage if needed that gave her comfort. The only thing that made the girl anxious was that she was left down the hole with TJ.

The girl took two steps away from him after giving an uneasy glance toward the guns again. Tansy bit her lip for the briefest of moments, then did what she always did when she was nervous; she started babbling.

"I wonder what's up there," she said, turning her eyes back up to the chimney. "Do you think we're still under the castle or maybe in the courtyard somewhere? I get turned around in these passages, but it seems like we've been walking a while. We must be out from under the castle by now."

She paused and kicked at a bone with her sandal. "You know, you didn't have to go all psycho on us like that, TJ. I mean, god, I would have thought an ex-marine would have had more of a sense of adventure than that."

"Shut up, bitch," TJ mumbled.

He watched Gihst’s shadowy form slink back down and narrowed his eyes, nodding and gesturing with the gun for him to get next to Tansy.

"Move away from the rope," he commanded. "DO IT," he repeated with force when they both hesitated.

Gihst conceded, sunken in a recline against the wall beside Tansy. He held his left hand and kneaded the palm with his right, his features vacant. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her summer blonde hair. It looked bleach white in the iron darkness.

“…y’spook easily,” the man murmured abruptly, the profile of his lips moving at eye level.

He anticipated a volatile reaction from this woman who seemed to strive for a brave front, a curt back-and-forth that accompanied the majority of their past conversations. But the statement was as intrusively odd as needed. He needed her apprehensive, prepared for a sudden surprise; she would be less likely to bolt should things turn ugly. “No matter whit, stay calm;” he added, and would not speak again.

TJ then stuffed both guns securely inside the waist of his jeans, making sure the safeties were on, and took hold of the rope and began climbing.

Meanwhile, grey eyes flickered to the firearms, observed, and dropped. Bad move, jackass; Gihst thought, rolling his shoulders off the wall once the soldier had disappeared from view. Pain and shock were going to play hell with Hunt’s nerves should he survive that tumble, he’d fumble over those safeties.

And with his lofted eyes bright, dangerous, the Scotsman faded in and crouched just outside the halo of the opening above him. There, he rubbed his calloused hands in the loose lime dust at his feet, drying them. Then he unbuttoned his kukri and went perfectly still.

In the tight walls of the tunnel it was easy to hear all that was said down below. Thomas knew TJ was coming even before the tension on the rope made that belief a fact. Well toned muscle rippled as he tightened his grip upon the rough length of rope. He leaned back into it, careful to ensure it did not move in the slightest lest the man be clued in on what was planned. Gihst would be waiting down at the bottom, ready to finish the job however he may.

Thomas waited, counting the seconds to gauge the best time to release the rope so the man could take a short drop and receive a very sudden stop. Timing was crucial in this trap. Too soon and he would escape mostly unscathed, too late and he’d grab the ledge and wouldn’t fall at all. The doctor strained his ears, eyes closed so as to allow better focus on listening. TJ was close, nearly to the top.

Have a nice trip, bastard… See you next fall.

With a slow exhale of breath Thomas released the rope just before TJ could reach the top. With nothing to hold it the solid length had only the man’s weight to pull it along and there was only one direction gravity was going to let him go. Straight down.

He had just got a glimpse of daylight before TJ experienced that horrible, unexpected feeling you get when the elevator heads downward... your stomach free-floating, defying gravity like an astronaut, and for a moment, it seemed that everything remained suspended in that half-moment of surprise and horror.

The rest came as a painful, bruising blur as life rushed past him at a rate he could not react to, much less comprehend. TJ Hunt plummeted downwards, crying out, his yells and screams echoing upwards seconds before his body dropped into the darkness below and landed with a sickening *crunch* upon the bones that lay beneath.

One bone punctured his chest, sticking up like a gruesome spear--or a pole; a bloody, macabre symbol that fit perfectly with the dread history of this place. Torn guts, and droplets of blood leaked down the side of the bone, and beneath, he felt his back grow wet with the crimson life that surely puddled underneath his prone body.

He gasped, wheezing, whistling air through the hole in his chest--it must've punctured a lung--a gurgling, burbling sound that signaled the collapse of his left lung, and major damage to his ribcage an internal organs. He tried to move and shift, but the bone that impaled him held him fast. His hands clenched and unclenched, he gurgled and spat blood from his mouth and his wide eyes rolled and searched with slow blinks.

"Tom..." he spat again, "... you fuck. He..." TJ gasped and choked, "... cut the rope..."

"You're all... fucked..." His lips cracked into a blood-filled smile that coated his bared teeth.

In the moment of a heartbeat, Gihst watched the world flow past his vision at a rate that seemed slow to him, hideously sharp. His gaunt hand launched from hiding swifter than a coiled snake, the moment blurred. The hand caught Hunt in the cheek like a jaw-trap, digits hooking into the chin and eye socket, before leverage and momentum forced his head to pivot away with the extension of Gihst’s arm. Then came a whistle around the metallic gleam of that crooked blade, as bent as a dog’s hind leg, that plunged into the flesh just below TJ’s ear with a sickening crunch.

TJ shuddered, but his eyes were already dead.

Tansy could do nothing but stare at the slowly growing pool of blood seeping out from TJ's body. Her stomach churned, and if it weren't for the dim light it would be obvious that all of her own blood had left her face. Gihst had been right. While she wasn't going to bolt at the gruesome sight, Tansy certainly wasn't hardened to it like the wiry man before her seemed to be. The tears that had suddenly spilled out onto her cheeks were a clear indication of that.

“…Fynn,” that coarse voice called out finally, thick as though sticky with sand. Gihst waited until Fynn popped his head out, then tossed the balled-up belt rope to him. “Y’two go on ahead, Ah’ll take care o’ this.”

Tansy nodded, drawing her lower lip between her teeth as she desperately attempted to collect herself. She had talked a big game up until now, and it would only hurt in the long run to show such weakness to the man before her. A man, she reminded herself, who was still very much a stranger despite his present inclination to help her and Tom.

Gihst offered out the butt of the Glock 22 to the woman, a wooden frown creasing his countenance. But those tears made him stumble inside, hesitate. He averted his gaze elsewhere, his grey eyes front but unfocused as he kept the Colt 45 for himself, tucking it into the back waist of his denims.. “...take th’Glock n’ return it tae Fynn. Hear anythin’ tha’ ainae me, run. Y’will see me in time.” He said, blank. Then the Scotsman turned away and clumsily hefted the heavy corpse onto his shoulder.

"Okay," she said, her voice sounding very quiet through her tightened throat. The girl tore her eyes from what had been TJ and reached for the belt-rope once Tom lowered it down.

Tansy cleared her throat. "I meant what I said earlier. No peeking up my skirt," she said with a poor attempt at a smile to Gihst. However there was nothing but the cold, bowed back of the Scotsman for her as he disappeared into cavern beyond.

The climb up the tunnel required more effort and energy than she would have liked to spend. Half the time she was trying to keep from scraping herself on the walls and the other half she was cursing that she couldn't simply fly up the chute like she should. Tansy wanted a soft bed, an ice cream sundae, and a long massage.

But at the mouth of the chimney, Tansy tasted fresh air. The gentle night breeze carried traces of fresh grass, sweet flowers, and musty trees. Through the moon and starlight, she saw that they were in the middle of a forest... a long way from her comfortable hotel room, no doubt.

Thom helped her up over the lip of the hole, and she collapsed, suddenly exhausted into his arms.

"TJ's gone," she spoke into Thomas’ shoulder, her voice hoarse through labored breathing. "And Gihst will be up soon."

God, I can't wait to find that stupid rock and get this over with. Tansy added in her mind.

Thomas had never taken a life before. In choosing to become a doctor he had elected to take the opposite route and preserve what lives he could. To take TJ's now felt dirty, unclean. Even if the bastard did have it coming. By the time Tansy emerged from the shaft and fell easily into his arms, he was in need of the contact, of the comfort it brought. What he wouldn't give for a good hot shower... preferably with her.

"I hope he didn't suffer too much. The guy was an ass but I wouldn't want to cause him undo pain." Thomas looked around, trying to take stock of their surroundings and get a sense of direction. His arm slid naturally around Tansy. "Come on. I'm sure he'll catch up in no time."
_______________________________________________

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 4:35 - 4:45 AM
LOCATION: Unknown cavern below Bran Castle, Romania



A heavy splash and hiss of water echoed with the fading overtones of skipping stones, dying out with a hollowed plunk.

The Scotsman’s ‘beater billowed in a draft, billowed downward as atmospheric pressure sucked cool air down into the chasm below. He ignored the stinging cold on his bare shoulders as he stood at the brink, thumbing through a dead man’s wallet. A cold that would slow bloat, the corpse would not float until long after the water current babbling below had dragged it away. When in Skye, ice fishermen often waited to surface until the spring. He had pushed out the air beneath his boot, and dead lungs did not re-expand on their own any better than a balloon.

His white shirt had soaked up the blood in a sanguine sash. He had purposely carried Hunt, allowing the wounds to drip. Blood in smudges suggested a dragged corpse. Droplets suggested a wounded individual that could still walk, a distracting prospect for agents on a manhunt. Even if they came suspect a diversion, he could not see them playing with a guess. That should keep them snuffling in circles for a time, he thought, or at least divide their numbers. He would have to burn the clothing.

Gihst avoided a cursory glance over some wallet photos while he salvaged the money, but then he paused. For a steep second an old complaint was set loose in his mind, overturning his peace until anger came to exorcise it like a wheeling demon.

“-fuck!” the man snapped out the word in a rasping bark, pitching the wallet down into the chasm. Automatically he began searching his immediate surroundings for his shoulder holsters, shrugging out of his suspenders and reaching back to pull that red-smeared undershirt roughly over his head, grumbling incoherently. Then the Scotsman scooped up his holsters in transit of his prowl back to the chimney.

Minutes later at the mass grave, he used that balled undershirt to blot up the excess blood and covered the remainder that had soaked in with the natural lime sediment. Like flour on a raw egg, it caked over the residual moisture in an ashen white sheet that blended with the floor, masking the red color below. It was simple trick that worked with many powders, but was just as simply exposed when still wet or scuffed at enough. But with his task completed, Gihst climbed out to track down the companions ahead of him…

[Koti~]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 9:00 PM
Location: Sacred Valley, Underground

She had barely time to register the change in his voice when he vanished, appeared behind her, then blocked out by searing pain. Rolling forward, clutching the back of her head, she screamed some, her mind jarred and hazy now as something stirred within her.

Sitting upright, her eyes swimming with tears and the back of her skull throbbing as something stirred awake. She barely had time to catch her breath as Lance appeared, along with 8 others, each voice echoing inside her head

“You should have stayed in your padded cell girl. Where it was safe. Now you’ve gone too far down the rabbit hole… You’ve met an entirely different kind of freak. Something you’ve never encountered… And you want to hear the kicker? You’re not ready. And you’ll never be ready. Because we’ll be taking the stone, and the gun. And if you resist, your life.”

Evalon snarled, tightening the grip around her gun as a new voice sprang into the fray. Looking past, she could see Guilana standing there, with her stone, fangs protruding from the edge of her upper lip, eyes gleaming in the hall that had grown into a blur.

*That… bitch! That should be my stone, none of theirs!* Evalon thought, a slight hiss escaping her throat as her eyes narrowed to slits. Before she could even react though, Something brown and furry leapt, her eyes barely able to keep track.

*Ugh.. Too much happening, I’ll retreat for now* Evalon thought to herself as she jumped away from the group back towards the entrance as the furry thing passed her. Before she had time to jump out of the way though, something tripped up her feet, planting her hands first into the cold wet ground. Curling and cursing into hands, she felt her nose her left eye closed in the grip of pain now radiating from her nose.

Looking at what had caught her, she now lay besides a priest, dead though he may be. She almost jumped, if not for ben’s voice echoing into the hall, pain making it sound jagged in her ears.

"The Teardrop is coming with me!" he cried out, in a half-hissing voice, his beady eyes glimmering in the dark. "Stay back! Don't try anything or you'll never see it again!"

Evalon froze, looking at the gun in her hand and Ben, the teardrop in his. She cursed, berating the aforementioned lady luck that she had heard. Snarling a bit at her luck, she looked over at ben and was soon assaulted with her own inner voice.

*Evalon, give me back control! You have done enough!* Stephanies voice echoed into her head, sounding angry yet frightened at the same time

*Stephanie, now is not the time. If you have something in mind to help get us out of here alive, then tell me, or shut the fuck up!* Evalon swore mentally at the girl, making the timid girl cringe inside her own head. Something shimmered into her head, and evalon smiled and snarled at the same time. Smiling at the memories, she curled up closer, all of this lapsing inside seconds.

Glancing between Ben, the gun, the others, and the corpse now by her side, she took a deep breath, feeling a strange force laying just inside the surface of her mind. Unsure of how to breach it, she felt for the one thing she had known to use, her own voice. Exhaling, she felt the new found energy flowing through her.

“Shadows weave around me, darkness encircle my blood.
Fill me with the void, shield me from prying eyes,
Breath in the shadows around me, exhale who I am”

Evalon repeated the phrase, a double octave voice flowing through her lips as she slowly sat up. Feeling it flow around her, she could feel an eerie sense wrap around her, like someone watching a bad vision vanish with her words, making them see something that wasn’t true, a lump of something next to the body, easily seen as a shadowed rock by anyone who looked at her.

*I won’t have long to do this, but I only have one shot. Those ears tell me that a gunshot would be out of the question, with their size. With what speed he showed to moving that distance was almost like mine, yet seemed… lumbered. Hopefully he is still reeling from the bite, loud noises won’t work… but maybe… they will.* Evalon ran through her thoughts, looking at the gun and ben. Looking behind her and pressing her right foot against the wall, she slowly raised the gun, repeating the mantra under her breath, feeling the eerie feeling creeping around her body again and again.

She took a breath and hurled the gun hard, to some place behind Ben. Not caring for the arching path of the weapon, she pressed off, feeling her spring forward towards Ben, thin fingers arching forward. Hardly a hair’s breadth passed between her throwing the gun and her leaving the wall, her fingers slid against the smooth surface of the Teardrop, warmth and something else flooding into her, mere seconds before her fingers rubbed against his fur. Wrapping her fingers around the teardrop like a drowning man, she landed on the ground, rolling to the balls of her feet as the cave seemed to shimmer before her, what little light glowing brighter around her.

“Mine!” She shouted out loud, shattering what madness had enveloped her, and took off, using the wall as leverage to run back the way they had entered the cavern, her feet splashing and echoing across the walls.

[RisingPhoenix]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 9:00 PM
Location: Sacred Valley, Underground

Nothing could have prepared him for what would happen next. The floor beneath father Francis and Nicolai decided to cease holding their weight and crumbled beneath their feet, plunging them into the depths below. After such, everything became a blur to Nicolai, and he was cast into a deep dark slumber. While in this slumber, the visitor came again. There was light all around Nicolai, and he was in a place he couldn’t explain. Everything was visually beautiful, but Nicolai couldn’t help but feel that something was out of place. He turned around, feeling that the world around him was revolving rather quickly. Then, he came, in all his glowing glory. He reached out to Nicolai and Nicolai rejected him. He reached out again, and Nicolai rejected him once more. Finally, he spoke. He told Nicolai what he was, and what he wanted. He told him that without him Nicolai didn’t stand a chance. He informed Nicolai that should he reject him fully, he’d leave and never return, he’d leave Nicolai to find his own way out. There was nothing more terrifying than feeling all alone. Nicolai gazed upon the beautiful man, and only wondered how much of this would actually prove to be true. He already felt that the trip to the underground catacombs of this place wasn’t truly worth it, but to find the tear drop was his only goal and if this thing could help him, he’d gladly accept.

He finally accepted the man who only wanted his best interest at heart. He accepted him fully, and hoped that what he was told was true. When he finally awoke, he was lying beside father Francis. He sat up slowly and moved a bit to release his muscles from their stiffened state. He touched father Francis………..NO REPLY……..he touched him again……..NO REPLY……..he touched him one last time, and when the good father did not reply, Nicolai became frantic. He performed CPR nearly twenty times before the tears in his eyes fell uncontrollably against the pale rock beneath his feet. He didn’t know where he was, but he felt that there was something within range of him that begged to be found. After he cried over a man he had met only days earlier, he couldn’t help but wonder what the good father had done to be forsaken by his god. Nicolai reached out and took the tome within his hands. He clasped it tight against his form and stood to his feet as best he could. He finally became aware of those around him. If he hadn’t been through what he had been through, he wouldn’t have believed what he was seeing. What looked like a ferret was holding the very thing that father Francis had come all this way to find. This ugly thing was speaking to a woman, and judging by the blood stained lips of this woman, she was some sort of creature that Nicolai wanted nothing to do with.

"The Teardrop is coming with me!" the humanoid furry creature cried out, in a half-hissing voice, his beady eyes glimmering in the dark. "Stay back! Don't try anything or you'll never see it again!"

He stepped forward towards the large furry humanoid creature, all signs of fear vanishing in his stride,

“If I ask it of you, would you give me that item?”

It was strange, but Nicolai felt neither tired nor fearful. It was as if his body radiated light, and his body felt as if it were not his own. Still, it all felt right to him, as if he were destined to be in this particular place at this particular time. He never took his eyes off of those that greatly outnumbered him. A will to fight was ever present in his eyes. A will to survive would greatly outweigh a will to die. It was strange, this feeling inside, and as a gun was tossed, that nearly nicked his ear by a girl who had tripped over the dead father, he couldn’t help but feel as if she were going in slow motion. It seemed that all of them were going in slow motion, as if he were moving far faster than they were. He watched as the girl ran towards the odd furry humanoid thing and grasped the teardrop from his paw.

“If anyone is walking out of here with that thing it is me,” Nicolai spoke up, an odd aura surrounding him, slightly illuminating the area around him.

Immediately something kicked in within Nicolai that made him take action. This was inhuman, the thought of moving something with one's mind. In fact, he had done it so fast that he had found himself holding the teardrop. What had happened was pure genius. While the girl had been preoccupied with attempted to escape, Nicolai, now possessed by the angel within, had used telekinesis to snatch the item out of her hand and transport it to his own. He felt energized with the item in hand. He felt a sudden rush of power and as he held it, he sent forth a telekinetic wave throughout the chamber in order to make room for his escape. He moved quickly, allowing the angel within to navigate the dark catacombs. This feeling he felt wasn’t normal. He wasn’t even in control of his own body, he could feel the presence of the other and knew that whatever he was doing, and wherever he was going would lead them to safety.

[Kris]

DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 22:20-22:45 PM
LOCATION: Metro Station 43, Moscow, Russia.


What...?

Tricked by the sudden burst of light that shot forth from Victor's hand and the curiosity that was her second nature, Sarina lowered her guards and almost puked as the obnoxious, disgusting smell penetrated her nostrils, the eerie miasma and death filling her surroundings.

Funny, People were wrong; Hell was a frozen desert of death all along...

The tunnels were cold and suffocating, the stench of blood and sweat which lingered on the corpses was unbearable. The fact her head was still spinning and that she could barely breath or control her movements didn't help to recover and adjust the situation, but in order to take off her mind of the sudden awareness which came to pass the moment her emotional guard was torn apart by lack of power, she decided to gaze up and watch the battle of titans, a glorious Ragnarök being manifested before her eyes, far far below the ground, in a place where the sun dared not shine and reveal their secret... Where humans shall fail to take notice of those creatures' presences.... and be ignorant to their existence yet another day.

This whole scene looked as if it was pulled right out of some mythical fight of legend, the kind of stories which Sarina always enjoyed reading. But seeing it for real was far from epic. It was disgusting and frightening.

Bitter irony at its best.

Sarina shivered.

Demons, angels, machines... What other monsters were out there?... What others could be fed by the star or any other powerful relic like it?

Moans and cries were heard all around her as dead bodies rose to life, taking the shapes of horrible creatures. They healed themselves and turn to bite and feed of one another to regain more power before they jumped for the direction of the battling metro's gladiators that were Victor and Anatoliy.

To describe what she saw would probably be easier to explain in the words used by the ancients in their scripts of Genesis. Gods fighting in an orgy manner, ripping and tearing, biting and feasting, devouring and thrashing... Almost like in that last scene from the Nibelungen... Then again it was fitting to almost any apocalyptic scene from any cultures...

Victor sent balls of fire as he jumped from his nemesis attacks. That only irked Anatoliy to pursue and slash Victor harder, which was no real effort to him, even if the one holding the star was Victor. From time to time, one of the 'undead' creatures would break into the arena to try his luck, only to be pushed backward with a severe, lethal wound which was probably worst than any bullet could do.

They kept tearing each other and Victor yelled with all of his might as Anatoliy ripped off one of his wings, all the while keeping away more creatures that approached and tried to bite and suck blood from their wounds.

Looking back Sarina noticed the moving trains that took with them to another world corpses and some of the new revived creatures which were torn to shards by the mechanical dashing exterminators, adding more corps to the pile. It sure cut the job of dealing with them, literally, but it prevented her escape too.

"The fuck?!", came the surprised voice of Big Tony, supporting his wounds as he advanced to take a better look. Before she could react he had his gun directed to her, "Who the fuck are you?".

A burst of flame was sent for their direction and the two dodged in time. Sarina was grateful for this disturbance, "Doesn't matter now!", she told the big guy, seizing the chance to ease him, after all, he was the one holding the gun, and she had yet to recover to even stand properly, "Victor has the star... We need to get both him and Anatoliy down!"

"What're ya? some kind of a fuckin' -!"

"Doesn't matter now!!!", she stopped him, "Please, I can't do this alone... And you have a gun, right?! So what could I possibly do to you, huh?!", she cried over the tumult, barely able to hear herself with all the yelling and the trains' noises.

Tony seemed to consider what to do next before he threw something at her direction. She seized it without much of a trouble and opened up her hand to notice a small silver cross.

Puzzled she looked up at him.

"I ain't givin' yer no gun, kid, you want one? you go get one! How? Fuck if I care", he spitted, turning to aim his gun over the wrestling Russians couple and the other corpses that still tried to raise and fight, "Yer on yer own kid", he said, slowly moving away, leaving behind trail of his own blood.

Closing her hands over the cross, Sarina could feel that somewhere deep inside Tony did care. Sure he wouldn't help her, but: 1) It wasn't like she wanted him to give her his gun, 2) He gave her this cross, and although it was a holy relic she didn't believe in, it symbolically showed that he wished her a good luck, 3) he didn't shoot her. Which was a good start.

She rushed backward while trying to keep a distance as far as possibly away from the rails as to not get crushed by the trains herself, which was no easy task since the passage was so narrow. She dug around the bodies as much as she was unpleased by it, as she searched for any usable ammo. She wasn't going to relay on others to do the job for her and although she hoped she wouldn't need to shoot anyone, she realized she was going to need some sort of protection should the worst came to pass.

She was about to pick something when she heard a soft click. Looking around she saw the man she recognized as Yuri, aiming his gun at her.

This was already becoming too repetitive to say the least.....

"What the fuck is going onnnnnnnnnn-!", Yuri's hand was cut from his body as another train dashed for their direction, sending the gun in his hand rolling right for Sarina's direction. Spinning near her legs, she bent to pick it up, "Thank you!", she said slowly, leaving Yuri to cry with pain at his lost limb as blood continued to gash and pour out of the wound.

With the cross and the gun she went back, while trying to think how to advance next.

[Mysteria]

Once she had safely landed Shiloh stood in front of the professor and Ashton, her back to where she had seen Miller falling into the hole. Thomas Langdon’s gaze fell upon her not as it had earlier from a look of astonishment but rather now from a look of horror. Her own dark brown orbs followed his and it was not until she looked down that she realized that the sudden heat she’d felt earlier which she thought to be an adrenaline rush was none other than a gun shot wound.

Her shirt was blood soaked but yet she’d not felt the pain she would have expected from a gunshot wound. Haji was now there too, staring at her, but Shiloh was still puzzled over why the pain was not more intense and as her eyes had fallen to the professor’s hands she realized, it was the stone. In close proximity to the stone, it had allowed her to dull the pain although the wound was still dangerous. There was no time to attempt healing herself and now more than ever the stone needed protection. With her back still to Miller and Sarah she had said nothing but had taken the one step she needed to close the distance between herself and the professor and taken the glowing stone from him. He’d offered her no resistance, still too stunned from everything that had happened so quickly.

It was when the stone had touched her hand that she froze for over Professor Langdon's shoulder far past the others at the entrance of the room that they now stood in, Shiloh saw a familiar light and although she was aware of Max Millers words to the woman named Sarah behind her, she heard a voice, calling to her and calming her. It is the voice of Micah telling her "Do not be afraid, he is with you."

The words were the very words her own parents had taught her. Although the fact was that her faith had only recently begun to return mattered little to her at this moment in time as her only thought was she needed to believe in something. Now, she would believe in her guiding angel, she would believe his words to be true.

Shiloh’s attentions were turned to Haji as she saw him stepping forward. She couldn’t let him interfere; he was no match for this lunatic, Miller. Shiloh spun to face the madman.

She was just in time to see the horrified look on Sarah’s face “My God…”

My God was correct. He was Shiloh’s God. He would not allow her to fail. She was filled with determination as Miller’s threats flooded her ears, his voice a sinister sound to her.

"Shiloh,"

He was still taunting her as his gun leveled on her.

He was crazy. There was no other explanation for it and in the now dimly lit room, he appeared to have no problem seeing her either. Shiloh didn’t know exactly what he was, but she knew one thing, he wasn’t a normal human. If she’d have turned to seen Haji, she would have realized how inhuman Max Miller really was but as it were, her focus was elsewhere.

The gun in Miller’s hand did little to deter her. She was already wounded, but not mortally. He’d caught her in the shoulder, and she would live. She didn’t know if she could withstand another shot, a more direct hit could kill her. And she couldn’t risk him getting to the others behind her.

Making sure her wings were still extended to semi shield the professor, Ashton and Haji she stepped towards the edge of the hole that Miller was now standing on the other side of. Her mind raced, she had to act fast. It was then that she remembered the rows of stacked crates she had searched around earlier looking for a way to get down in the hole before having revealed herself to the professor.

Shiloh felt the warmth of the stone in her hand as it pulsed seemingly with a life of its own. She felt stronger. She’d practiced her newly found power of telekinesis but had never attempted anything such as what she was now contemplating. She locked gazes with Miller.

"Give me the stone, Shiloh..." His voice was insistive, almost as though he were trying to command her.

“No” Shiloh’s voice thundered through the small room as she heard Sarah and the others gasping in surprise. Professor Langdon began to back up slowly, shaking his head. This was all like some bad nightmare, it couldn’t be real. Shiloh took another step, now standing at the very ledge of the hole.

“I don’t know who or what you are, but I am not allowing this stone to fall into your hands” Shiloh said, extraordinarily calmly considering the given situation. The truth was she was trying to expend as little of her energy in speaking with Miller and reserve it for the task she was about to attempt.

Shiloh focused her mind on the boxes behind Miller. She could see no way to bring them down without risking the woman, Sarah’s life too. If she could just draw Miller’s attention away for a split second..a Kansas City Shuffle was what she needed. But how?

Without another thought she focused her thoughts and sent a crate crashing just a few inches from where Miller stood. He instinctively looked towards the noise, Sarah Miller jumping back as she was startled. That was the pivoting point for Shiloh. With the stone held firmly in her hand and Micah’s words ringing in her head, she felt almost invincible as she sent out another wave of thought, sending several of the stacked crates and a sarcophagus that had been standing against the wall tumbling down on Miller as she heard the crunching and shattering of bones.

Whether those bones were of the dead that lay in the room or that of Miller as he was buried under the splintering boxes she didn’t know and at that point she didn’t care. She turned to Langdon and the others “Run!” she ordered as light flew from her fingertips lighting the way in front of them so that they might to try to make their escape and leaving the room behind them almost devoid of light other than the dim artificial lighting that was used in the tomb. The only thing Shiloh heard was Sarah Miller’s screams and sobs.

Shiloh uttered a silent prayer of thanks as they ran, for both Gods good grace and protection of her, the others, and Sarah Miller who was obviously, still alive.

[Rook]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 9:00 PM
Location: The Sacred Valley, Temple of Coniraya, The Grotto of the Teardrop

Everything was going according to plan. One hindrance distracted, the other quite possible killed in action. And right after the Lance Brigade was summoned up, he returned to his invisibility, and crouched. Any gunfire would trail right over his head, and she’d only think she got him.

With the competition taking care of, he crept silently for the stone. Three stairs to the elevated platform. He stood before the bowl, just as his dream predicted. The soft light glowing in the water filled indentation, the ruins. This was his destiny. The manifestation of his purpose. The stone was his. It belonged to him. No one would have it. His lips peeled back in that triumphant smile, as his fingers dipped gently into the water. His finger brushed that miniscule, glassy surface, and just like the dream, the world began to fade.

Date: N/A
Time: N/A
Location: N/A

A void. Sheer absence of being. A white expanse of nothing. A he stood, mirrored by himself across from him. He didn’t speak, but his reflection’s lips moved. Inaudible. There was no noise. His ability to read lips wasn’t the greatest, but he felt certain he caught “…you in life… serve… hill” and with no more words, the mirror image of himself offered his hand. Lance was bewildered, but reached out, with the intent to shake it.

Their fingers touched, and it felt as though many things in his mind clicked at once. Places he’d never seen, things he never done. Fighting winged creatures, blurred and indistinguishable. The Moon Worshipers. The Teardrop. More, similar stones. Anger and intense, painful light. A small village. An old lab. A fearful man. A young girl locked in a dungeon. Rose petals and more light. Fire in the darkness.

At every event he was present. Sometimes there were others. The mood of the situation varied, but the undeniable feelings of aggression, regret, cruelty, and deception were not only a constant, but a choking atmosphere. The world suddenly shook, and his doppelganger scowled, furious. And then it all disappeared.

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 9:02 PM
Location: The Sacred Valley, Temple of Coniraya, The Grotto of the Teardrop

He snapped back to reality and looked down. The Teardrop was gone. He looked up as Guiliana called out to him.

“Let’s get out of here, shall we?”

Lance smirked at the bold, triumphant laugh that accompanied her statement. All the anger, the rage, the obvious point that they were all looking for the rock, and she still considered him an ally. And suddenly, Lance stood at the most advantageous point of anyone in the room. Ben lie flat on his back, alone and forgotten. Evalon held her ground at the center of his illusory platoon, alone, outnumbered. The only person that had as close to as sweet a deal as he had was Guiliana herself. They wouldn’t have to face the rest of the group alone. The fight ceased to be a free for all, and became two-on-one-on-one, and there was always strength in numbers. He began to move toward her quietly, his exuberance apparent to anyone that could see that which couldn’t be seen. So he didn’t have to worry about that.

He strafed around her, and approached from behind. Her head turned slightly as the air shifted behind her. A gentle hand found itself on her upper waist, just below her ribs, the other clasped gently around her hand clutching the stone from below, and lips gently traced down her neck. She shivered and Lance’s smirk grew.

"I have a plan; I just don't know it yet... I can get us out of here with no further issue from our beloved little aggressors... All I need is the stone to give me the knowledge of my true capabilities..." There was a short pause as he returned to the base of her neck.

"If we're in this together, I'll trust you..." She said. Lance’s hand released Guiliana’s and cupped below it, eager to receive the rock. He felt her hand begin to release it, when something violently threw his arm aside, and wrenched the stone from her grasp.

He recoiled a moment, and when he regained composure, he gazed upon Ben’s form. His true colors revealed, and laid out before him like a portrait of some grotesque monster. The stone dropped from his teeth into his hand, now more like an animal’s paw, and he spoke.

"The Teardrop is coming with me!" he cried out, in a half-hissing voice, his beady eyes glimmering in the dark. "Stay back! Don't try anything or you'll never see it again!"

An idle threat from a staggered, beaten man. Lance smiled wickedly. Killing this pathetic creature wouldn’t just be easy; it’d be like doing mankind, and Ben himself, a service.

He’d never done anything like it before, but he raised his hand. The moment of contact with the stone before it was snatched from the bowl by his unwitting ally had given him but a concept of the power. But a concept was enough to go on. He raised his hand in the direction of the man, and concentrated. He felt something building up, but another development soon stole his attention. Stephanie, or Evalon as she now called herself, launched forward like a flash of lightning, and wrenched the rock from his clawed hand. Without a second thought, his palm traced after her, and he prepared his attempt again. And once more, he was interrupted. The stone, seemingly by some invisible force, was then wrenched from her hand, and pulled to the palm of a new man on the scene.

“It’s like a fucking party down here…” He thought, as the new man, grasping the rock recoiled at it’s power.

Lance moved without any thought. He found himself braced for impact with Guiliana directly between the new man and himself. As though he’d faced what was coming over and over, for a very long time. As though this power, at one time, may even have been his own. The cave burst around him in what appeared to be a blast of pure kinetic energy. Lance skidded back a few feet, soon followed by Guiliana, who was taken entirely off her feet. He acted quickly, and drew her into his person, stabilizing her as the man fled the same way they’d came in. He scowled, following him with his eyes as Guiliana stood on her own. This had gone too far. There was no time to waste.

"Go after the rock, I'll make sure you're not followed. Once I'm done here, I'll come give you a hand.” He growled out, beginning to move invisibly toward Evalon and Ben. He couldn’t see the look on her face, but he had a good guess as to what it was.

"Hurry the fuck up and don't get into trouble!" She called out, and without another word, all Lance could hear were rapid footsteps, moving triple time to his own. A sadistic smile took his face as he marched quickly toward is quarry. Ben regained his composure rather quickly for a man who’s just nearly succumbed to blood loss. His mind raced and he found himself breaking forward at alarming speed. He had no idea what had gotten into him, but he loved it. He just barely slowed with a pivot, and took his foot to the side of the man’s head with brutal aggression. Not breaking stride he now moved to Evalon, a mere few feet away, and clamped as hard as he could onto the collar of her shirt, throwing the girl of much smaller frame than him backwards as hard as he could into the wall. Still moving towards her he crouched and retrieved the gun. He now held all the chips.

She was staggered once more with her impact into the wall. His invisibility dropped and the illusions standing imposingly around the room faded instantly.

“Well, they say it all the time, but who thought it would actually ring this true.” he said, raising a hand in Evalon’s direction as her head snapped up, her eyes meeting his own. “You played with fire, and now you’re going to get burned.” He growled with darkness in his eyes. At that moment, an orb of flame the size of his palm sprang to life as he gingerly set the gun barrel on side of a disoriented Ben’s head, who’s just sat up beside him.

"I don’t suppose these are silver, but it’d be a waste. Looks like I have the mic... I really don't want to do this, but if you attempt to refuse at least hearing out my proposition..." he trailed off. The fire in his left hand grew in mass as he pulled the hammer back on the pistol, and then he continued. "Refuse to hear me out, and God help me, we may just have a problem. I have big fucking plans, and it's going to take a lot of help, and even more bodies. At this point, you can be the bodies, but I've seen your talents... I'd prefer you to be the help. So, any problems with hearing this delightful little sales pitch?"

He watched Evalon’s eyes drift bewildered and angry from the fireball in his palm to the gun trained on Ben, and then back to lock eye’s with him in hateful acceptance.

"... I guess I have no real option. I will help ... as much as I can."” Evalon carefully stood. "Though, what do I get out of it?" Evalon asked, her back pressed against the wall as she looked Lance dead in the eyes.

“Other than not having your head taken off by biologically generated napalm?” He said, comfortably taking to his new position of power, while still completely guarded. "I can't tell you that yet... Once the stone is in my hands... Once I get my memories back, I'll have a full explanation for you... All I know for sure is...That stone... Along with a few others won't just increase our abilities. We'll have the potential to do something extravagant... And this entire world will bow to us like gods..." He said still not trustworthy enough to let her go.

"If I let you go after that... Other man, whoever he is, I need an agreement. No harm to Guiliana... And the stone comes straight to my hand. It will tell me what to do with it when it releases my mind, and when we find the next, you have first dibs."

Her hands trembled. Rage? Fear? He wasn’t sure, but whatever the case, he simply feed his ego off of the sign of emotions other than bloodlust and victory.

He growled out a mild enjoyment as she glanced between her shaking hands and Lance. But then the snarl curled into a smile.

"Fine, I won't hinder you, but I won’t help you either." Evalon said with a smirk. Her head slumped weakly and she fell back against the wall. Lance was confused. He hadn’t even touched her, let alone set her ablaze.

'W...what...?" No fangs, brown eyes, and a docile voice. The sneaky bitch. Multiple personality disorder. Right when things got heavy, she retreated. Lance scowled and spat out a “fuck”. She was useless to him in this state.

"I...I'll do whatever you ask, just please don't hurt me" She screeched out, huddling back against the wall. He smiled viciously. Evalon assumed that she was doing a neutral act for him. She didn’t even realize how simple she’d just made things. She wasn’t just useless to him. She was useless to everyone now. Even herself. He no longer had to shift his attention.

“Sit quietly like a good girl Stephanie. You’re no longer a threat now that Evalon is gone.” He shifted his full attention now to Ben, only keeping track of Stephanie in his peripheral instead of switching equally between the two.

“Well Benny-boy, looks like there’s only one loose end to tie up now. What’s it going to be? I can nearly guarantee that my proposal is going to be more lucrative than whatever your likely selfish employer is offering. You gave me a monetary proposal. I’m giving you the same and more. We get the stones; we get whatever we want, right up to demi-god status.” He said, dissipating the fire and using both hands to steady the gun further.

[~N~]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 11:45 AM-Noon
LOCATION: Nekhen, Egypt inside the Mastaba tomb.

The stones and crates seemingly moved of their own accord behind him, and quite frankly took Max Miller by surprise. He was caught between keeping his calculating eyes on the primary target--Shiloh--or turning away to acknowledge what was happening behind him without explanation.

"Shit," he muttered, feeling the whole room shake like it was about to cave in. He turned, only to see a couple stones, about two-feet around, shake loose and come flying at him like some kind of scene out of The Empire Strikes Back. Throwing up his hands, one with the gun in it, the other without, and not knowing immediately where to go, as he was still standing on the edge of the pit he had just been helped out of, Miller turned with a wide-eyed look to Sarah Richards, before the first stone barreled into him.

He was knocked back, but it was not a natural reaction such a concussive hit. Max's body moved more like it was nailed to the floor, with sharp robotic jerks as the next stone plowed right into him, bending him over backwards. It was enough to cause him to fall back, spread-eagled, catching himself with hands and ankles across the gap. His eyes now glittered with wide apprehension and fear. Another stone came loose, and another, and another. He was going to be buried alive.

"Max!" Sarah screamed in anxiety and terror, stumbling back on shaky steps, unsure of what to do. She couldn't rush underneath those boulders. She could only watch with horror as the next stone fell down and sent Max Miller down into the shaft. Sarah turned her eyes to Shiloh, meeting the angels gaze with her own--imparting the mix of frightened outrage she felt shaking through her body in her looks--before turning back to the now empty hole, where a few more rocks and crates fell down the shaft. She trembled and shook her head.

She couldn't believe any of this. Haji was still immobilized by whatever Max had done to him, but he was just now starting to recover, moving his limbs gingerly under his own power.

Sarah grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "We have to help him!" she screamed hysterically.

Haji was barely able to register her pleas, still shaking himself free of the paralysis, stammering out, "How... I... why.... stop! I cannot believe any of this! We must get out of here! The tomb is caving in! All my work!"

He stumbled towards the exit behind the fleeing professors and Shiloh, and Sarah, looking back and forth, uncertain of what to do now that she was all alone, reluctantly went after them after a moment's hesitation. She was nearly sick to her stomach, thinking of the man she was leaving behind in this dark place as the ancient stone, now distressed by what the angel had done to it, began to crumble even further, sending down dust, dirt and stones all around them...

[~N~]

Tony, show 'em how it's done... gangster style. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8U27EIb1_7s)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 22:45-23:00 PM
LOCATION: Metro Station 43, Moscow, Russia.

Not only had the young girl impressed him by surviving this long in a blood bath, but he saw her take off the hand--and gun--of that Russian police officer, and that made her solid gold in Tony's book.

"Alright, kid," he bellowed out, "go! I'll cover ya! Get that fuckin' star!" Spitting up blood, Big Tony then did what he did best: he picked up a shotgun and a machine gun, wrapped two more around his arms, grabbed two pistols and shoved them in his coat, and turning around to the shambling shadows, he opened fire as only an American mob boss could.

Click, click, BOOM! went the shotgun. Click, click, BOOM! Six inch holes blew off the heads and went through the torsos of the corpses, while the rapid spitting hail of fire from the machine gun ripped through dozens more bodies, clearing a path for Sarina as he felled shadow after shadow while she made her way ever closer to the two main combatants.

Victor stretched out his left hand in front of him and sent Anatoliy back with a wave of invisible force, flattening out his opponents with a blast of telekinetic force. Smirking, he landed and advanced, moving towards his fallen opponent who was caught off guard and prone upon the ground. "Anatoliy, you should know better. The Winterstar is mine, and scum like yourself will never succeed against the righteous!"

Victor was not so distracted that he did not notice in the ensuing mayhem around him, however, and glancing at the chaos caused by the gangster, he raised his right hand to strike the bloody juggernaut of a man down. But a creeping shadow, stealing closer caught Victor's shifting gaze at the last moment. Without hesitation, the hand shifted, and sent forth a bolt of lightning that hit Sarina square in the chest, lighting up the station with its flash of vengeance.

"Silly wretch! Did you honestly think you could take me by surprise?!" he roared at her.

"Perhaps she won't..." came a hissing voice behind him, "... but I will." Victor felt the piercing agony of a cursed blade thrust into his back. The pain was so excruciating that it caused his fingers to open and drop the Winterstar, which was caught by a shadowy hand that appeared from his left side. The catch was followed by a sinister growing laughter from Anatoliy's lips that seemed to spark a flame that swallowed up Victor's form as the latter howled in pain.

Those same flames that immolated Victor lit up Anatoliy in the darkness, a perfect target for Big Tony, who opened fire on Anatoliy's form, riddling him with bullets, blast after blast, spraying hot lead into the burning Victor, the shadowy Anatoliy behind him, and the myriad corpses and officers and anything else that moved around him and them. Blood dripped from his lips, and with big wheezing breaths he lumbered forth, shooting and shooting, the guns hot in his arms and hands, jolting him this way and that.

With a thunderous roar full of bloodthirsty intentions, Big Tony rampaged slowly towards them all like a wounded, mad rhino...

[Aheris]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 9:02 PM
Location: The Sacred Valley, Resting Place of the Teardrop

Guiliana's laughter faded into the darkness of the grotto, echoing against the humid stone walls. This Evalon was crumpled up on the dusty earth, some distance away from Ben. Pity, that. Ben could have been useful. But Guiliana was on the winning side, and she was going to protect that stone. If Ben couldn't get over his pride and sort out the details later, well, she couldn't bother with him.

The air moved behind Guiliana. She turned her head slightly in the direction of the cool waft in her hair. Then she felt the touch of Lance, not visible but certainly present, at her waist. He brushed over the fabric of her shirt, resting there as he came up close from behind. Becoming more bold, he planted small, quiet kisses down the back of her neck. Her body responded with a slight shiver.

"I have a plan; I just don't know it yet... I can get us out of here with no further issue from our beloved little aggressors... All I need is the stone to give me the knowledge of my true capabilities..."

His hand was over hers as she held the Teardrop, feeling its effects on her. She knew that he wasn't going to try to fight her, now, when she could make it much easier for him to get out of here. She wanted to trust him, wanted to believe that he came here not just for this power...Maybe he wanted to trust her, too...

"If we're in this together, I'll trust you..." She said softly. But in her mind, she finished the sentence. Betray me, and I will find you. I will hunt you down and feast upon you.

She released the stone into his waiting palm, or thought she did, when something snapped into view. At first it looked like some kind of small creature from the cave. After taking a second glance, it was certainly not. Ben was showing his true nature after all: furry, drool flecked, and closer in appearance to the weasel that he was.


"The Teardrop is coming with me!" he cried out, in a half-hissing voice, his beady eyes glimmering in the dark. "Stay back! Don't try anything or you'll never see it again!"

Lance was readying himself for a response; preparing to deal a sharp blow to Ben. He raised his hand and began to concentrate his attention, building up ...But then another sudden attack interrupted. Stephanie-Evalon swooped in and attempted to make off with the stone. They were so many children fighting over the remote control...

Yet another player stepped into the cave. He had evaded Guiliana's previous gaze...now he drew all attention to him with his kinetic draw of the stone. Shortly after the young man had the Teardrop in hand, he sent a blast that surprised himself and all in the room.

Guiliana had been blown off her feet, into the waiting arms of Lance. He set her back onto her balance as she shook herself off. She could feel, behind her, the coldness of Lance's rage. It had taken hold of her too, so when she heard it again in Lance's voice she was prepared.

"Go after the rock, I'll make sure you're not followed. Once I'm done here, I'll come give you a hand.” He growled out, beginning to move invisibly toward Evalon and Ben. He couldn’t see the look on her face, but he had a good guess as to what it was.

Glaring herself, she did not turn, but responded as she moved after the new young man and the Teardrop.

"Hurry the fuck up and don't get into trouble!" she called out, over her shoulder. Guiliana began to pick up speed from a trot to a run. This kid, whoever he was, would not be able to outrun her.

...


Heels clicking over stone and dusty ground, she was making good time. Better than good, actually. Guiliana was capable of moving far faster in this passageway for several reasons. The most useful at the moment was her clear sight in the darkness. Soon, though, she may have to slow somewhat to conceal her approach. She certainly needed to have the jump on him, as he would have a clear advantage in strength with the Teardrop in his possesion.

She could see him now, moving at a determined pace in front of her. They had been climbing steadily up a slight incline for some time now, and though they were not nearing her original entrance... Guiliana thought she might be able to make use of widening passage. From her pocket, she palmed her small room key.

Quietly, she moved towards one side of the passage. She had picked up a small rock in one hand, and she had the metal key between her fingers in the other. She tossed the tiny rock past and behind him, forcing his attention in the opposite direction of her form.

Whether it would be enough, she didn't know. But as he reacted to the noise, she gathered herself.

Guiliana ran at the young man, using her speed to generate force behind her relatively modest frame like a small locomotive. She slammed her body up against his: Simultaneously she rammed the room key between her fingers into his ribs, while she violently forced his head into the rock with her open left hand.

In his ear, she whispered in a low, dark voice: "Give it to me, kid...I don't want to hurt you any more..."

[~N~]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 6:00 am
LOCATION: Bran Castle, Romania

If this was a movie, and they were on some rock in space, or some old building in New York City, a tourist could be forgiven for assuming that Brassier and his team of four were actually a real life version of the Ghostbusters or the squad of Marines in Aliens. As it was, they were three heavily armed X-Files FBI agents on a mission the led them into the bowels of Bran Castle.

Simon Belmont wasn't armed this much. Squads of special forces didn't carry this much ordinance. And Dr. Van Helsing sure as hell wouldn't be hefting a custom-made flamethrower.

Well, not in a traditional sense anyway.

But this wasn't the movies or a game to Agent Gerald Brassier; this was a goddamn mission, and the prey he hunted was anything but normal, and required anything but casual attention. He knew what he was dealing with: at least one lycanthrope or vampire, possibly more. Reports had come in of activity, people going missing, a number of sightings and events that were too coincidental to be sheer coincidence.

Into the caves they went, from the ancient staircase, down into the shadowy wards of this natural dungeon. "Jesus Christ," Garrus muttered. "Guess Mr. Stoker wasn't entirely making this shit up..."

"There's a lot of things most people don't wish to acknowledge that are sitting in plain sight," Brassier muttered back, his eyes probing the shadows and dour rock around them, his body tense with the anticipation of something jumping from the darkness out to greet them with claws and fangs.

Despite their slow pace, it seemed like hours of unnecessary tension, wearing on their already fatigued mines. Shadows leaped, taunted them, rats skittered and chittered their noisy arrival, droplets of water plinked down around them in a disharmonious casual rhythm that was as predictable as jazz. They had been here, Brassier thought to himself. He knew it. He could smell it.

Like wet dog.

A scent like that was exactly what most people would just pass up and think nothing more of. "Lycanthrope..." he muttered.

"Boss?"

"I said 'lycanthrope'..." he answered in a fuller voice. "You smell that? Wet dog. You see any dogs around here?"

"No, but..." Sandler slowly and hesitantly responded, glancing about him at the shifting light and darkness along the walls.

"No. Exactly."

"Wet dog? What's a lycanthrope?" the supervisor asked in confusion, picking up bits of conversation.

"Classified, that's what," Brassier responded grimly.

The supervisor gave off an air of indignation at the snub.

"Oh my god..." Garrus's voice came echoing back the rocky passage as he stepped into a circular room with a narrow shaft leading up into the newly dawning morning.

"What is it?" Brassier responded, quickening his steps to reach his companion.

"Christ..." Sandler added. "Look at all the bones!"

"You know about this?" Brassier turned to the supervisor who also quickened his steps to catch up with them.

"Careful," he placed his hand on Brassier's shoulder. "These..." he said, shuddering at the sight, "These must be from... from long ago..."

"What, you just use this as a dumping ground for bodies?!" Garrus replied, not being able to believe his eyes as his flashlight peered over the protruding bones.

"No..." the supervisor muttered gravely. "No... this is actually probably a more important find than you would believe."

"It's a crime scene now," Brassier jumped in, taking control.

The supervisor protested, "You can't just do that! This might be of cultural, historical, and archeological significance to the legacy of Vlad Dracul! You cannot simply condemn it to the rough searches of your men! I refuse to allow it!"

"Look!" Brassier grabbed his shoulder now, "Give me ONE day. ONE. If this place is as important as you think it is, then they came here for a reason."

"I will NOT let you desecrate this place for your brute investigation!" the supervisor objected.

"One of my agents was assaulted," Brassier began.

"In a place he shouldn't have been without permission," the supervisor retorted.

Brassier shook his head with impatience and disgust and exploded, "I'M NOT HERE FOR YOUR GODDAMN BONES!" His roaring voice echoed through the chambers. The supervisor visibly shook and stammered.

"There are two fugitives. Possibly more. They're not normal people. I have reason to believe they came here for a purpose," he explained in measured tones, gritting back his irritation for the sake of communication. "What that is, I don't know, but these sorts of fugitives... are sometimes drawn to places like this. Trust me, if there's something here, you'll have it... but I need 24 more hours, and then I'll be gone."

The supervisor stared back with a look of utter disconsolation, opening his mouth to give the X-Files Director a firm "NO" but he was interrupted.

"Blood. There's blood here..." Sandler spoke up.

Brassier and the supervisor both glared at one another and without breaking this match, the Director answered his companion, "Fresh?"

"Think so. Not much..."

"Over here too!" Garrus spoke up, seeing more, like a trail of a wounded creature.

"Fresh," Brassier intoned with a nod, eyes still locked on the supervisor's, whose eyes shifted from Gerald to Garrus and Sandler and back.

"24 hours," he stammered, flustered with furious emotion and disbelief.

**********************************

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 5:00 AM
LOCATION: in a clearing, within a copse of forest, a couple miles from Brand Castle, Romania

The dawn light sometimes plays tricks on the eyes, and certainly is well known for its property of being darkest just before the sun rises. But there is a kind of indigo beauty to the sky, when the light is dimmest, that puts one in a kind of serene place of solitude and silence, before the world wakes with its usual activity. It is a cold and bitter touch sometimes that causes the body to shiver.

Such shivers might very well have found their way into the physical beings of Dr. Thomas Fynn, Tansy James, and Gihst. Or maybe it was the adrenaline... or the cold-blooded murder they--all three of them--participated in, collaborated in, and now kept between them like some grisly secret.

A bloody, staining sin... the mortal kind... deep in the bowels of a cavern beneath the shadowy watch of a castle once inhabited by a man so vile that thousands of such sacrifices were made per day in his war with the Turks.

Maybe the spirit of Dracul had crept into them all with a shiver.

The forest watched them with living eyes--eyes that seemed to condemn them for their secret sin.

But in that clearing, that green breezy field they found themselves in, silent and gloomy as the grave after their chilling deed, leaving them alone for a full hundred yards in every direction, they were not alone.

Emerging from the eastern line of the forest that embraced that clearing came a figure, robed in the garments of a Catholic priest, dark and shadowy as the pre-lit dawn itself. He came across the field towards them with steady strides and a face as pale and young as a cold winter sun.

"Good morning there!" he waved and called out with a smile, approaching them. "My name is Brother Stephen!"

As he drew closer, he continued, "You don't look like you're from around here! Are you just visiting these parts? The Castle perhaps?" He extended his hand in a warm gesture of friendship and brotherhood.

How ironically convenient that fate had provided them a priest to whom they could confess their sins...

[~N~]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 9:05 PM
Location: The Sacred Valley, The Grotto of the Teardrop

“Well Benny-boy, looks like there’s only one loose end to tie up now. What’s it going to be? I can nearly guarantee that my proposal is going to be more lucrative than whatever your likely selfish employer is offering. You gave me a monetary proposal. I’m giving you the same and more. We get the stones; we get whatever we want, right up to demi-god status.” He said, dissipating the fire and using both hands to steady the gun further.

The last few minutes had been like something out of a goddamn surrealist graphic novel. Ben had felt the cool misty air of the cavern breezing along his fur, his whiskers, as he had expertly snatched the Teardrop away with his teeth. The inner animal inside him chortled with smirking pleasure at that feat. It felt satisfying on an instinctual level, stealing that stone.

But then the hallucinations started. Shadows, things in the darkness, moving stones, shapes... a gun... and suddenly that bitch had stolen the Teardrop from him!

And he was just about to react, just about to fight her for it, when an unseen force drove him to the ground once more, face full of water, knocking the wind right out of him and nearly causing him to drown on the water he inhaled as his face plunged into the shallow pool. When he came up for air, it was to the sound of Lance's voice, his gun, and that... ball of fire in his hand...

What's it gonna be...

Beady eyes shifted with a scowl up at Lance's menacing form. He could've sprung up and taken him out with an infectious bite to his neck. Ben snarled, without even thinking about it, but grappled with his animalistic nature.

"You really think she's giving you the stone? Ha," he barked, "you're even dumber than you look if you honestly believe that."

He turned to Evalon/Stephanie and added, "I know YOU won't even bother to cooperate unless you're taking it for yourself, and I know I only care about getting it back to my employer and getting my paycheck."

He turned back to Lance, "And you don't know Guiliana... she's just as powerhungry as he is."

Finally he snarled and conceded, "I'm going to get that fucking stone, and if you're coming, then let's go. But I'm not serving anyone but the man who pays my check. Your promises are just a flashy sell next to that."

"The only way you get out of this alive is with us on your side, Lance," he said, calling the other's bluff and proposition. "That's what this proposal is all about, after all, isn't it? You need us as much as we may or may not need you."

"So what's it going to be?" Ben bared his teeth again.

[Kris]

DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 23:15 PM
LOCATION: Metro Station 43, Moscow, Russia.


Sarina raised her hands before her eyes which were shivering and covered with blood...

HER OWN DAMN BLOOD.

Was it... this sudden Chill ?!

She never noticed the place was so freezing until now....

Her body kept trembling, her senses became numb, she felt eager to close her eyes and rest a bit..

Just a little bit...

Nothing wrong with just a little bit of a nap...

Maybe... Maybe when she woke up... She will find herself back at her own apartment's bed? Maybe... Maybe she will be forced into another morning shift at section G?! Maybe she would laugh with Amilia, Tom and Golan about this silly dream she had... About a dashing, somewhat dangerous dancer guy... Who knew how to touch a woman....

About the mafia getting somewhat involved in all of that...

About... about some ancient relics of power and super-humans that could fly, enchant reality, change themselves and manipulate machines....

About....

*cough*

Blood poured out of her mouth which painted her lips wet in crimson. The taste felt bitter-sweet. She couldn't help but chuckle as her hands sealed themselves into the cross and the handgun, trembling, shaking hands that could barely support the weight of the object they wished to hold onto and pull, much less the will to raise themselves as limbs normally should do.

She chuckle with this melody of bullets and trains, roars and cries, whimpers and yells of agony.

*BANG*

Not far from her she felt something heavy landing and she slowly got up, fell, raised on her feet again, stumbled, and lazily pulled herself for the body, one hand holding the cross and supporting the wound in her chest, the other tossed against her body, one finger on the trigger loop, knowing it probably going to let go of it soon.

By the time she reached the wounded man, her body felt so heavy that she literally fell on him.

He felt warm....

Something in the back of her mind remembered this heat...

"A-Ana...toliy....".

Drops of blood fell upon his lips which he tasted without much resistance, not that he seemed to be able to resist anymore, and realized there was something very strange about her blood... Oily like... More like Machine's oil....

He chuckled, probably the best thing he could do after being pierced by so many bullets.

He then hummed slowly.

Sarina's eyes were wide as her hands reached over him. She barely saw anything now, the pain so great that it slowly freezes her, focusing everything on her wound and the heat of which his body produced. Every sane piece of mind that was still capable of thinking clearly called to her to let go of him. To run away.

After all, there was no way to tell what he was capable to do now...

But his body was so warm and the pain was so terrible... aching so much and beating into her chest like unquieten hunger...

Then she felt him moving under her...

He twisted uncomfortably at first... and then he gasped as if something was troubling him. Looking down as she arched herself to separate herself from his upper torso she realized her right hand touched directly into his skin under his ruined shirt, but what seemed to be the source of pain was the cross that was pressed directly into him, leaving a trail of burnt flesh the size of the holy object.

Doing one and one wasn't that hard...

Suddenly, she felt alive, her senses, although weak, worked together as she leaned against him, sealing him from moving as she tore off his shirt, passing the cross all over his chest and hearing him sobbing, arching, crying with pain as his skin was scorched, smoke rising from his wound as if he was on fire, while trying to resist, but it seems futile, the pain was too great.

And the worst part was... That she seemed to take great pleasure of doing that...

Without smiling, without showing any emotions like she normally did, she just set upon him, her legs on his, one hand trying to seal his head into the ground as the other moving the cross over his body, so casually, as if she was drawing and not hurting a human being.

Then, when his skin seemed hurt enough and when she heard cries coming from the direction of Victor and Tony, she dropped the cross on his chest, leaving it there idly while raising her small gun and pointing it at Anatoliy.

"I can't... let you have the star...", both of her hands were require to hold onto the pistol and her hands still shivered, her eyes narrowed, her lips parted, wet with crimson blood, her eyes half closed, and yet so cold and alerted.

Everything about her seemed to be wild and demanding.

[Koti~]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 9:05 PM
Location: The Sacred Valley, The Grotto of the Teardrop

Stephanie huddled against the wall, trying her best to make herself as small as possible, the rocks digging into the soft flesh of her back. Fear and adrenaline coursed through her system even after the gun had been turned from her, the fire fading from site. Her breathing short and shallow, she kept herself as still as possible, her mind racing through a thousand thoughts a second. The major thought being how she could get out of here without getting shot by Lance, or burned alive.

*Evalon please, help me!* She cried into her head, fear making her misjudge herself as she called out to her other half, the one she feared. All she got in return was dead silence filtered through static, making her own head feel fuzzy. Her eyes went wide as her breathing slowed, for one afraid of what had happened to her other half. While she had been afraid of Evalon, a small part of her brain recognized that she needed her to survive, someone to fall back on when she was afraid. And now she was gone, forever silent.

*No… she is gone… what do I do…. What do I do?!* Stephanie began to mentally repeat to herself, clutching her head while staring at the cold rocky ground, still trying to grope around in her head for any connection to Evalon, for any hint of that voice. Tears rolled down her face and hit the floor with a soft plop, which seemed to calm the panicked girl some, and set an idea inside her head roving around, claiming all free space.

*If I can’t get out alone… then we all get out… A cave in…* Stephanie’s mind ran through the thoughts, the image of a cave collapsing under its own weight, water burrowing its way through the rough walls like tiny snakes, pushing apart and weakening it, causing it to fold like wet paper.

“Her voice” Stephanie whispered into the dead stone around her, the idea coming through as hazy dream from afar. She vaguely remembered hearing Evalon sing, making it seem as their body had vanished from sight before leaping at Ben to grab the stone that had … ben…

She took a quick look over at Ben, seeing him lying on the ground with Lance pointing his own gun at him. She shuttered, remembering that his own blood was still flowing through her system, which almost caused her to retch onto the ground, her shaking returning with vigor.

*Well … no time like the present* Stephanie thought, and began to sing, hoping for some change… but nothing seemed to happen! Her eyes looked around in worry, wondering why nothing was happening. No shaking, no falling rocks, nothing. Why couldn’t she… she was still human. For her plan to work, she would have to let go, and let her other half take over.

Slowing her breathing and closing her eyes, she focused, looking into her mind where she had last felt Evalon disappear to, to try and find any trace of what powers remained. Once she found the trace of power, she let go of the breath she was holding, and delved straight into it, feeling the weirdest sensation ever. Everything grew brighter as this new force enveloped her, her teeth aching as her incisors grew into sharp points. Even her hair seemed to flutter a bit and took on a whitish hue as the power spread from her head to her toes, bringing about a sense of calm into her system

*Okay… let’s try this one more time* Stephanie thought, taking in a deep breath.

“The earth will quake and heave
As gravity takes its heed
Rocks fall from darkness to light
To break down with all their might
Earth splits and cracks
The pain of the earth be sought
Into darkness.. all shall be brought”

Stephanie sang softly, the words flowing from her lips with ease, inviting to any in the room. The song sounded like a soothing lullaby as she sang, her eyes remaining ever vigilant on the ground.

Soon her words faded into the darkness, making the cave seem to grow darker from the loss of sound. A second passed before the words finally faded into darkness before her hallucination took hold in the form of a small pebble. The small pebble fell from the top of the room, landing with a soft plunk in a nearby pool of water, making the surface ripple.

The cave shook with anger as a low rumble filled the room, debris and rocks falling down and breaking along the ground as it continued to shudder and heave, threatening to open up and swallow them all whole.

“It’s a cave in!” Stephanie screamed, forgetting that she had been the one to cast it, and doing the first logical thing she could think of, bolt for the exit as the shaking grew more violent and larger chunks fell downwards.

[RisingPhoenix]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 9:02 PM
Location: The Sacred Valley, Resting Place of the Teardrop

What in the hell had he gotten himself into? This question filled his mind as he moved towards what must’ve been an exit. There was a faint twinkle of moon light at the far end of the tunnel he treaded so quickly. He had it, he had the teardrop, the very thing that the late Father Francis had sought, and still he knew he wasn’t safe. He had thought about placing it in the pouch he carried around his waist, but he kept it in his hand. Those that he had left in the cavern were bound to come after him, yet a part of him wanted them to come after him. A part of him wanted a challenge, wanted a good fight. He proceeded on not looking back but keeping his eyes focused on the mission at hand; escaping from the cavern with the teardrop. While one hand held the tome that Father Francis had read from before his demise, the other hand had a death grip on the teardrop as well as a kinetic grip. In order to pry it from his hand, they’d have to kill him. The stone was beautiful when he had glanced at it, but what it did within him caused him to want more. The knowledge he gained while holding the stone was marvelous indeed. There were other stones, stones that could do marvelous, yet deadly things. He wanted to find them all, and see what would happen when they all came together.

As he moved towards the exit with as much speed as his body could muster, he couldn’t help but feel as if he were being followed. He had been climbing steadily up a slight incline for some time now, but he was nowhere near tired or exhausted. He could see the moon light filtering in from the exit and was so close to getting out of the cavern. So much for thinking that he’d get out of this without injury. Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks upon hearing a rock hit the ground near him. His attention would have been much easier to distract if he hadn’t been so focused. There was a sudden force that pressed against his body. It collided with so much force that Nicolai was knocked off his feet, clutching both the tome and the teardrop in his grasps as he fell. He could feel hands upon him, and this angered him as well as the angel within. He hated being touched without permission; it was a pet peeve of his that caused violent outbursts. He felt metal touch his skin, but thankfully he had maneuvered his body such that the key in the hand of his assailant slipped and only cut him along his side. The assailant attempted to press his face against the stony earth beneath him, but he resisted. He could hear the assailant’s voice, and it was a female. Females and their violent ways, it made him glad to know that he was born the way he was, with no attraction to them.

He had to think of a way to get out of this. He had to think of some way of blinding her and reaching the exit before the others came after him. It was then that he heard Angel, the angel within him, speak within his mind.

“Nicolai, allow me full control and I’ll get you out of this.”

“Is…..is that you Angel? I don’t know about this. How would I regain control afterwards?” Nicolai replied to Angel as he struggling against the female assailant who had whispered into his ear and was attempting to retrieve the stone.

“Don’t worry; I’ll explain everything once we get out of this cave. Are you with me? I can’t fully help you unless you fully trust me,” Angel replied within Nicolai’s mind.

Nicolai thought about it for a moment. He really didn’t have the time to doubt Angel now. He had gotten Nicolai this far, and trusting him to get him out of this was a no brainer.

“Yes, I relinquish control. Get me the hell out of here Angel,” Nicolai replied as he released control and gave it over to Angel.

Nicolai’s body stopped struggling against the female assailant. His body started to glow as he lay there motionless, seemingly beaten. Suddenly, another pulse of kinetic energy rang out from his form and knocked the female off of him. His form glowed so brightly that it illuminated the very tunnel they were in. The glow was so bright that if any dared look his way, they’d be temporarily blinded. The glow vanished, but Nicolai, now being controlled by Angel, had made his way a great distance from the female assailant. He wasn’t walking which confused Nicolai who was tagging along for the ride, but his feet were hovering above the ground. As others would notice, wings had sprouted from Nicolai’s back and propelled him with great speed through the tunnel. He could feel the sudden quake that rocked the cavern, and knew that something was about to happen. A rock fell from the ceiling and barely missed him. The cavern was caving in, which meant that he had no choice but to push his way out of this tunnel before it too caved in. With a great flap of his mystic wings, Nicolai shot through the tunnel and out of the exit just in time.

Afterward, he landed somewhere, though he didn’t know where. He had no clue as to how he’d get back to where he and Father Francis had entered. It was odd to think that Father Francis was dead. The thought made Nicolai cry. Angel, as promised, relinquished control back to Nicolai when they were a safe distance away. As he relinquished control back to Nicolai, the pain caused by the cut from the key filled him. The cut wasn’t deadly, but it was a problem. Blood oozed from it, and there was a possibility of infection if he didn’t do something quickly. He made his way towards a small pond. He dipped his hand in the water, and washed the wound. He made sure it was clean before reaching into pouch he had on retrieving a small pad. He placed it on the cut and wrapped some twine around to fasten the pad against the cut. He could now feel the exhaustion rushing in all at once. He didn’t know how he’d make it out of this situation. Angel had kept his promise and had gotten him out of the cavern. He sat against the ground and hid amongst the trees and foliage. He looked down at his hands. The teardrop glowed slightly. He quickly slipped it into his front pocket. The tome he held remained in his hand as he wiped a tear from his eyes. He had made it out, that much was certain, but this was far from over. Those people who he had met in the cavern wouldn’t stop until they had the jewel he now possessed. It was foolish to think that he’d be able to escape. Suddenly, he had a genius idea. If he swallowed the teardrop, they’d be unable to get it back unless they ripped it from his body, and he’d make sure that wouldn’t happen. He’d wait to swallow it, for he knew he’d need some assistance from some type of fluid or food.

“I’ll help you Nicolai. I’ll train you and provide knowledge. This is only the beginning. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you make it back,” Angel said with a soft comforting voice, “but right now you can’t sit still, you have to keep moving.”

Nicolai stood to his feet after making sure everything was in place. He made sure the teardrop was safe, and he placed the tome in his right hand.

“I have faith in you Angel, I just wish Father Francis was here to see this,” Nicolai stated, his voice soft as he proceeded to find a way back to where it all began, to where he and Father Francis entered in.

[Mysteria]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 12:00 AM
LOCATION: Nekhen, Egypt inside the Mastaba tomb.

Sarah shouts and screams still rang in Shiloh's head as they all ran to exit the tomb before it possibly came down on them. There was no time for any type of exchange with Haji or Sarah as Shiloh broke into the daylight, the two professors quick on her heels.

As daylight flooded their senses Shiloh zeroed in on a beat up old jeep that had just pulled up, the driver putting it into park but having never exited the vehicle as he rolled the window down to speak to a thin gangly looking man that had just stepped out of one of the smaller buildings.

Turning to Professors Langdon and Ashton the bleeding Shiloh yelled over her shoulder “Get in” as she pushed past the thin man and opened the door, grabbing the older man inside and ripping him from his seat in a display of strength, her mouth forming the words “I am sorry.”

Once the professors were inside she stomped the pedal to the floor, racing for the exact spot the ferry had dropped them off earlier. “Professor, we have to get Isaac and we have to get out of Egypt. Professor Ashton I am sorry but for your own safety you must leave Egypt.”

“I am not leaving Egypt, my work is here!” Harold Ashton protested.

Ashton’s protests were quickly waved off as Thomas Langdon’s voice of reason fell upon the ears of all those inside of the jeep. “Harold, I understand as well as does Shiloh but you have to listen to me, you MUST leave Egypt. None of us are safe here now, if that madman isn’t dead none of us will be safe until either he is, or until that stone is out of his reach. I am afraid you have no choice but to trust us.”

Shiloh nodded over her shoulder as she wheeled the jeep into the docks “The professor is right.” Then she turned to Langdon “Thomas, give me your jacket. I need to hide this blood until we get back to Cairo.”

Before she slipped out of the jeep she had already handed Langdon the jewel and was putting on his jacket. The three quickly boarded the ferry and moved to the back. With some luck, they were among only a few passengers and they hid themselves towards the back of the large boat.

“Professor, let me see the stone” Shiloh said. She did not know how she knew, but she knew that the stone would help her to heal even quicker than she could with just the use of her angelic powers. Thomas Langdon eyed her for a moment and she pulled her jacket back, pointing to the wound. With a nod he handed her the stone. Shiloh leaned her head forward, resting her eyes as she felt the stone pulsing with a life of its own. She willed the bullet to ease out of her body, the stone glowing in her hand until the wound was cauterized and sealed.

She felt better and with a warm smile she looked up “Thank you professor, for trusting me.”

Shiloh then removed the cross that hung on a long necklace made of leather from her neck and quickly took the cross of, then began the process of turning the jewel into a beautiful necklace, carefully twisting and cradling the stone in the leather until it was secured and would not possibly fall out. At that moment she couldn't have been more grateful that her parents had bought her countless jewelry making kits as a young girl, her being almost an expert at weaving odd shaped trinkets into wearable pieces of jewelry. She had actually considered going into jewelry making business once upon a time but gave it up for her singing career. She then handed the necklace to Professor Langdon. “Slip this on, tuck it under your shirt. If we are asked in customs, tell them it is an heirloom.”

As Langdon took the necklace she finished “First, we go get Isaac out of that hospital. He won’t be safe either.”

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 1:00 PM
LOCATION: Cairo

Shiloh burst into Isaac’s room, her embrace with him only lasting for a few moments before the doctor she had just spoken with followed her into the room, still protesting her wish for Isaac to leave.

Shiloh looked at the doctor “I understand what you are trying to tell me, but all we need to know is can Isaac safely make the flight back to the states?”

“Well physically, yes, but mentally, I can’t be sure.” The gray hard doctor retorted.

“If there is no physical danger, then he is coming with us.” Shiloh turned her warm smile, that smile that Isaac had missed the last few days back to her lover, her hand tenderly stroking his face “I’m so sorry that I’ve left you alone for this long Isaac, so much has happened but we have no time for that now. We have to return home.” Isaacs gaze was questioning but she pressed on “Now Isaac, get dressed, we have to leave, NOW.” His look of confusion did not deter her "Isaac, please...trust me. For now, just trust me..."

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 2:00 PM
LOCATION: Cairo airport, and beyond….

As they made their way through customs Shiloh stayed as far away from Langdon as she possibly could, not wanting her close proximity to cause her angelic appearance to possibly resurface.

She stood at a distance hand in hand with Isaac as the professor got held up at customs by a younger woman who had noticed the gem peeking out from under his collar.

“That’s an interesting piece of jewelry you have there, sir.” The black haired beauty said.

Professor Thomas Langdon nodded as Harold Ashton continued to look nervous behind him “This old trinket?” He said with that award winning smile of his “It’s an old family heirloom that I am taking home to my mother.”

The customs agent replied “Well I’m sure that she will love it.” Motioning him on then she said “Next”

Harold Ashton made it through customs without a catch and few moments later they were all seated on the plane and on their way home to the United States.

From her seat behind Langdon, she could still feel the pull and power of the stone as she hid behind her large sunglasses and wide brimmed hat holding onto Isaac’s hand like it may be the last time she’d ever be able to again. When this was all said and done, what she feared most of all was that she would possibly lose him.

[~N~]

DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 23:15-23:25 PM
LOCATION: Metro Station 43, Moscow, Russia.

The trains were coming (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fd9ohpDDCRU). Already they plowed through bodies on the tracks, blasted through barriers, and did what a train does to everything in their way. Their screeching rails, their roaring masses, the rush of wind and air that one gets when the train is coming, the light that precedes it...

...the light at the end of the tunnel....

...the light at the end...

...the light...

...of oncoming trains...

And the scene was by all definitions surreal---what other term could describe it? Otherworldly? Bodies, mangled, bleeding, groaning, dying, slumping, twitching... corpses in the flickering lights. It was the kind of scene you expected in a horror film, not reality. Reality wasn't supposed to end like this.

Clearing his throat of gurgling blood, Tony spat out viscous crimson and huffed, his shells spent, his legs and body heavy, slow... weak. He slumped, his adrenaline rush having passed, his flesh and blood reminding him that he was just a mortal man.

Yes, Tony, you're dying, his inner thoughts told him. You're dying.

And upon his knees, heavy sack of a man, the gasping, dying Italian-American gangster...

... that's when he saw her.

Dark haired girl. Covered in blood. Pale. The flickering lights illuminating her like some gruesome parody of beauty and frailty that you might see for shock value in those same horror films. Sitting astride the fallen Anatoliy. Pinning him with her body.

Smile upon her lips. Unnatural. Like she fucking loved it. Like she was in heaven. Bliss.

"Jesus," he muttered absentmindedly without even realizing he said it. Her dark hair blew with haunting life. Her body seemed even more alive than before and yet...

How could that be?

A deafening roar shook the station. The trains were coming. The trains were coming.

"Fuck..." Tony burbled. "Fuck," he repeated from burning, exasperated lungs; heavy, labored breaths...

And all he could do was gaze at her with glassy eyes.

The station was getting... darker? Colder?

He swallowed. Tasted blood. Choked on it. Choked. Pain in his chest. Ribs. Lungs. Heart.

The station shook. Rumbling trains. The trains were coming. All was silent a moment ago. A serenity in this cold palace of bloody murder and death.

All for what?

Sammy was avenged. The package?

What was she holding?

Big Tony Iglesias pitched forward with all the ease and lack of control of a dead man.
************************************************** *****************
DATE: August 22nd-23rd, 2042
TIME: 23:30-00:00 PM
LOCATION: Metro Station 43, Moscow, Russia.

The trains brought the world. Police, reporters, officials and all manner of other various service and government personnel swarmed about the station.

All of the bodies were accounted for.

All except for two.

A group consisting of professionally dressed men and a few scientists kept a well-trained eye on the diagnostics and treatment of one Sarina Gohar in the back of a private jet commissioned by Syber-Netix that was on its way back to the Isle of Alesia...

They took no one else with them...

[~N~]

Run, Shiloh! FLY! They're coming for you. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AbEzx9PL95U) Hehehehehe....
**************************************************
DATE: August 22nd, 2042
TIME: 12:10 AM-Morning
LOCATION: Nekhen, Egypt inside the Mastaba tomb.

They got out just in time to avoid being buried. Just in time to see Shiloh and the two professors making a cloud of dust behind them in their jeep.

"We must go after them!" Haji exclaimed. "She's stolen a relic that belongs in Egypt!"

Sarah Richards was too shaken up and divided to do anything but stand there and shake from the adrenaline and terror still coursing through her. She wiped the dirt from her face, breathing heavy, realizing for the first time that her heart was hammering away in her chest.

"Come on! We must go after them!" Haji exclaimed, grabbing her wrist.

But Sarah jerked away, roused to her senses enough to reply, "No."

He stared at her with a mix of fury, consternation and shock in his eyes, "What can you possibly mean, 'no'?!"

"I mean no.," she replied, her tone firmer now, her wits recovering, her gaze steadying defiantly against his. "My boss is buried alive in there, and you want to just leave him?!"

"He is beyond our aid, right now! He has brought this on himself! We will dig him out," Haji quickly explained with frantic gestures, "but right now we must go after them! Come on, you're the only other witness! We need to recover that relic!"

"NO!" Sarah shouted back at Haji, stunning and surprising him with her sudden audacity. "YOU go after them!" she directed with a commanding voice that concealed the sheer trepidation she felt coursing through her right now, "I am going to find as many people as I can to help get Mr. Miller out of there before he DIES!"

"Fine! Your employer will pay for this though! We'll get reparations!" Haji threatened before turning to pursue the trio disappearing off into the night, now just a cloud of dust in the distance.

This time it was Sarah Richards who grabbed Haji firmly by the wrist. He spun around, infuriated and flabbergasted at the bravado of this woman!

"Now you listen to me. Mr. Miller is very wealthy. He owns a very powerful company called Syber-Netix. He can pay your funding for this site for the next ten years easy, if you just get. him. out."

"BUT THE RELIC!"

"I think I know where she's going," Sarah's tone was very cold now.

"How?!" Haji shook his head in disbelief, glancing with worried eyes back to the disappearing jeep.

"Because it's where we are going."

He gaped.

"We must go there. Tell me where."

"First, Mr. Miller..."

"Damn it, woman, tell me!" he grabbed her and shook her with the urgency that overtook him.

"FIRST, we get Mr. Miller out, THEN we go after her. Together."

Haji could barely contain his frustration. He visibly shook. He opened and shut his mouth multiple times with things to say but nothing came.

"FINE," he said finally in exasperation, throwing up his hands and immediately turning around, summoning up a team of workers to excavate the ruins once more.

Sarah Richards looked up, feeling the effects of the past hour's events catching up with her. She felt fatigued and dizzy and could barely believe what had happened or what she was now watching over.

She only knew he had to be found. She didn't know what she'd do if he was dead.

She didn't know what she'd do if he was alive either...

[Rook]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 9:05 PM
Location: The Sacred Valley, The Grotto of the Teardrop

Lance stared Ben down. He was a second from turning the gun to the ground, firing a shot, and putting it back in his face. Was it relevant? No. Had he watched too many action movies as a kid? Yes. But the real question was, how much more intimidating would the utterance of “I don’t need either of you. Keeping… Specifically You, alive is simply a matter convenience.”


Sadly, the opportunity would never present itself. With a shriek, Stephanie began to sprint for the exit. And suddenly, the room shook as if the entire room was about to give.

“God Damnit… A delayed effect of taking the stone? It doesn’t matter, the girl is right, we need to get the fuck out of here. The stone is as good as gone. He’s either flying away with it right now… Or if you are right about Guiliana, she scored it, and is about to leave us to rot in the pit while she fucks off to Alesia with what’s mine.” He growled to Ben, dropping his arm and holstering the gun in a pocket.

“Survival is paramount weasel boy. If you get out, and are interested, meet me at the Casa del Mar in Lima. Room 203.” He said before bolting for the same corridor as the other three had gone down. His pace slowed a moment as he passed the body of the fallen father.

Father Francis was here. Why? The question prodded Lance for a moment before the words “Took him and left me to die… How like you.”, came to mind. He wasn’t sure what assumption he’d just made, and even if he’d had an idea of where it had come from, it didn’t make any sense. Before he had time to ponder it, he’d reached a fork in the caverns.

Lance fancied himself more competent than most. But for the life of him, he couldn’t remember the way they’d came from…

“Fuck… The vision. I wasn’t even conscious while we strolled through this end of the shithole.” He growled to himself, stopping helpless for a moment, not wanting to end up eternally entombed in an ancient temple because of a wrong turn.

And then suddenly, struggling. It echoed from the path to the right.

“Found you…” The fear of the collapse left him, and the power lust was back. He didn’t care about the fact that he could get trapped. Between Guiliana and his new-found command of fire, he’d find a way to get out, even if that meant blasting a hole in the earth itself.

-----

A moment later, as he rushed nearly full speed down the only path before him, the sound of violence stopped with a flash of light. He picked up his pace even further, concerned for his only ally, and lusting for blood. He rounded one last corner, and saw them, and his route to freedom. Guiliana lay flat on the ground, addled from whatever the man had done, as he flew, quite literally, up the path.

The collapsing cavern left behind him, he was calmed enough to take in what he was seeing. He examined her as he moved forward. She was alive. She was breathing. No wounds that would cause an incredible amount of hindrance that he could see anyway. He moved full speed to her, and skidded to a halt, crouching to help her to her feet.

“Twice in one day? You’re slipping lady. C’mon, I’ve got a plan.

-----

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 9:15 PM
Location: A Clearing in the Forest

Lance had seen the light. No, not that way all you hopeful readers. Nicolai’s light aura stopped dead in the center of a clearing not too far from the cavern. And now Lance stood, no longer accompanied by Guiliana, at the tree line. He lifted his hands above his head and made sure to allow the shrubbery to make his presence clear with a loud rustling, startling a few of the nearby birds, who’s calls filled the silence of the chilly Peruvian night.

“You know, with those wings, I have to tell you, you sir are a bitch to follow.” Lance called out, hands still raised as not only a sign of submission, but of good faith; a peace offering. Nicolai, at first simply gave him a deadpan look in the eye, but it soon shifted to defiant anger.

"What do you want?”

Simple. Straight forward. To the point. Lance liked that. No beating around the bush, but no outright aggression. It made this all very easy.

"Not a fight if that's what you're asking... I'll cut to the chase. Everyone here... That stone is what they want. I'm no exception. Neither are you, or Father Francis..." His tone dropped to a nearly somber octave, as one hand dipped from above his head to trace the catholic cross, touching his forehead, chest, and each shoulder (Father Francis had been the family’s priest after all, he may as well show a bit of respect), before returning to its position above his head.

"But here's the difference. The teenager wants the power, even if she's not currently aware, the weasel man wants it for money... The other woman... I don't quite know what motivates her yet... And I can't speak for you. As for me... My reason is entirely different, and I think we can both benefit from the proposal I'm about to make." he said, not a trace of malice in his expression. Nicolai’s eyes still traced him coldly. It was clear that he wasn’t trusting of Lance’s words. But after seeing your companion dead, stealing an artifact from a group of cutthroats, and being jumped by a vampire all in the course of the last ten minutes, one didn’t have much room to be trusting of anyone, especially someone who’s standpoint is “I want what you have.”

"Well, what are you waiting for? Make your offer." He said coldly. Lance swallowed back a smirk, having won half the battle already.

"Knowledge is what I seek... Today I've seen blood drinkers, shape shifters... White wings and telekinesis... And well. I can do this.” he paused, disappearing, only to reappear a fraction of a second later. "Here's my problem. Vampires, Lycanthropes... I can only assume you have some crazy angel power? All I want is to know what I am. I had one finger on that little trinket before anyone else, and it was like some sort of vision... I nearly found out exactly what I wanted, but it was snatched away from me by the woman whom you laid out; A mistake of an unwitting ally...That rock is my destiny... Maybe not ownership, but definitely the access of knowledge... But I'll let’s cut to the chase... I want the gem. I’ll need it for no longer than five minutes. I learn what I need to learn, give you the rock, and send you on your way.... I'll even make sure you're not followed. How about it..."

Lance nearly broke a sweat. Nicolai held his gaze on him, completely silent, look unchanging. A fight, right now, outside, was not what Lance wanted. All that would come of it was likely a forest fire followed by his target simply flying away. Game over. He immediately looses. But then his luck paid out.



"So, you're expecting me to just give you the stone I barely made it out of that cavern with alive? Why should I trust you? What is stopping you from running off once you have it? How am I to know that you won't try some sneaky shit? I need more than your word." Nicolai spat at him as Lance held back a sigh of relief.

“A response like that means he’s half way buying into it. Time to seal the deal. All I have to do is appeal to that oversized human ego of his.” Lance thought, changing his expression, mouth ajar, brow knitted, nose wrinkled. A simple face of disgust.

“What's stopping me from running off?" He spat back in the most offended tone he could manage. "Well, for one, I'm lost who knows where in the jungle I doubt I’d make it far. Two, you can fly, I severely doubt that I can outrun someone who can both gain the high ground in a flat land, and move at the same time. You’d run me into the ground, plain and simple. And last? A little thing called honor. I don’t back out on obligations. You give me The Teardrop, I take the knowledge, throw you the rock and you'll be on your merry little way long before that Stretch Armstrong of a Rat and the Vampires catch up. It's as simple as that. In the end, I'm not asking for Trust, I'm asking for a Deal. A verbal contract of sorts." He growled as his arms finally dropped to his sides as he stared the man down. “So, do we have a deal or not?”

Nicolai responded with yet another pause, before a gleam of confidence shown through his eyes.

"I swear to you, if you try anything, it will be the last thing you do." Nicolai simply stated in a all too serious tone, before the stone went airborne, Lance’s hand leapt forward like a ravenous snake, snatching it up with a hungry efficiency. And then the world went black.

Date: N/A
Time: N/A
Location: N/A

That familiar void returned. Only now it was all too unfamiliar. In the time between his last moments here and now, everything seemed to have inverted. There was no endless white expanse. Only an inky black, chokingly thick, yet clear. The vision of himself stood before him once more, but even it was different. Those simple looks remained, as if he stood staring into a mirror, but there was now something incredibly sinister about his “Flawless Reflection”. Some horrible wrong one can’t put their finger on, but can still be certain of. Once more his hand slipped forward as if in a deal making handshake. And those words, now crisp, audible, and spoken with the serpent’s tongue and velvet voice that could have caused the Fall of Man all over again, slipped forward.

“I shall serve you in life… And you will serve me in hell…” He said; a peculiar vileness in those silvered words. Lance smirked.

“So what? The other man is an angel, I guess that makes me some sort of demon? ” He responded. His doppelganger simply looked him in the eye, seeming to pierce him with some sort of second sight that viewed his very soul. “Not so talkative? Not a problem. You’ve said enough.” He spoke once more, before locking a firm handshake with the man whom held his image. And as the shake tightened, the one whom shared his appearance vanished, suddenly replaced by a thick mist. Instead of spreading, it lunged forth, and immediately vanished into Lance’s form.

It burned like acid in his veins. But the pain felt good. The Pain felt like Power. And with that power, the memories became clearer.


Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 9:20 PM
Location: A Clearing in the Forest

Lance snapped awake. He felt that his physical being had shifted somehow. It was obvious to him. But fortunately, as a reaction of either his subconscious, or the demon in his core, he’d once more turned invisible, a mere illusion of his human state of being left in his place.

”Thank you for this… I’ve learned all I can from it.” He called across to him, as what appeared to be The Teardrop once more took flight. And then he mumbled those foul words under his breath.

“Metsoh Repus Menoitcidelam…” He whispered so softly, directing all of his spite on Nicolai. He caught the stone, and those wings appeared once more. His posture fluctuated for a moment, being altered by the stones immense power. Or so he thought. Invisible as he was, no one could see his lips peel back over those jagged fangs into a grotesque smile, where as his illusion simply kept it’s poker face. Now all he had left to do was lay his final trap, and gain another ally. Make the man insecure. Drive the point home that he has something you want, even though he doesn’t, making sure he knows that death will not be a possibility, but simply inevitability.

“Well, it appears my end of the bargain is about complete there sir. But I would like to give you one word of advice… The things I learned when I held that gem… There are four more just like it. And now, I want them all. So, I’ll let you leave today. Do as you will. Go home. See your friends. Family. Significant Other. Visit them. Go about your daily life. Make sure to drive the point home how much you truly love each and every one of them. And then one day… One day, very soon, I’ll darken your doorstep once more, and a choice is going to be laid before you. We’re going to have that rock. And your only recourse will be to join up, or get fall in line with the pile of bodies I fully intend to make. They’ll be my own personal Tower of Babel. And in the end, I will take That Power that is rightfully mine. Keep that in mind. If you wish to join up before you’re forced to choose, and save yourself as much hardship as possible, feel free to seek me out. Just know, it doesn’t matter how or when, but mark my words, we will be meeting again.” And with no more words for the man, Lance turned to leave the way he came.

[Aheris]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 9:05 PM
Location: Somewhere underground, Sacred Valley

Guiliana had caught Nicolai off his guard, and it was apparent. But despite the surprise and the forceful nature of her attack, he wasn't going down easily. There was something to this one, too, and it was getting damn frustrating. For once, couldn't one of these bastards just be a normal pushover?!

Nicolai was fighting back, trying to twist his body away from Guiliana's grip. In addition she could sense, unconsciously (and frankly, irrelevant at this point) that he was repulsed by her onslaught. Oh, well. Nothing for it. Guiliana had the right arm of her prey wrenched into his back, and he was only struggling against it in a cursory manner.

Then, the sudden force of a kinetic blast laid Guiliana out on the floor. Her head bounced against the wall and she fell, crumpling to the ground. Her right arm reached out to try to grasp the air, but to no avail. She couldn't see him, but she no longer heard Nicolai's footsteps. Moments later, brushes of wings told her of his escape.

Guiliana let her head drop to the ground as she drifted between consciousness and nothingness. It seemed only a moment, but sleep always feels too brief to really tell...

And with a flourish, in slid Lance, feet grinding against the gravel and dust...skidding to a halt and quickly dropping down to Guiliana's level on the ground.

“Twice in one day? You’re slipping lady. C’mon, I’ve got a plan.”

“Fuck...Me...”

Guiliana grumbled as Lance helped her stand again. She kept her arm tucked under his, though as they made their way towards the opening of the cave. Stretching her legs as she walked, she looked at Lance sideways from beneath her hair.

“So what's this plan of yours?”

"Alright... First thing's first... You're clearly a... My God, this day is just wrought with stupid statements. You're some sort of Vampire right? Like Stephanie... My question is, how much of the myth is the truth?"

Guiliana looked at Lance with a shining, devious grin. "So you've got me..." Her eyes flashed wide and eyebrows flared upwards momentarily. "Yes, I am. But not like Stephanie," her voice lowered, "I am not fucking insane." Lance was already dragging her pace to a jog.

“But if you mean...is there a hunger? Certainly. Do I like crosses and holy water? Not particularly...Sunlight isn't too much of a problem. But what that thing did---That. Fucking. Hurts.
Your turn, chief. And don't sell me short, either.”

Lance smirked. "Yeah. I've never met anyone that crazy... As for what I am? I would love to tell you, but everyone stole the stone before I had the chance to find out. I shoot fire and turn invisible... And it's saying things like that really make me feel like a twelve year old... But back to you for a moment. Mental assault... Charm. Tricks of the mind. How about that? Can you do that?" he asked, a sly smile pulling apart his smirking lips, hoping she'd get the general idea of where this was going.

Guiliana chuckled at Lance's admission. “Turning invisible does sound rather practical...”

She could see the grin writhing, the wheels turning in his head.

“I can...influence...someone...but that usually doesn't go down very smoothly. Most people recognize on some level what has happened, and are quite hostile afterwards.” She tossed a sarcastically disappointed look, twisting one side of a half-hearted smile upwards.

"Alright..." he said, thinking it through. "Alright, you said it's possible though... So audio cues... Can you trigger it with audio cues? Because if we pull this off, we get the rock with minimal effort., and we don't have to deal with the problem of fighting that... Light shooting, telekinesis pushing, wing beating mother fu-... He's an Angel, isn't he?" He finished, deadpan look taking his face as his glance dropped on her. It had officially reached a new height of unbelievable.

“Lance, I don't know if it's possible that he's an angel. But if it walks like a duck, and burns my unholy flesh like a duck...Got to assume the worst.” She paused, taking a breath and lengthening her stride. “Audio cues? I suppose so, though I'll have to sneak up behind to be close enough.” Her lips pursed together as she methodically pushed aside her tiredness to keep his pace.

Lance let the topic of Angels slip into oblivion. "Ok, but what if they were loud, and he couldn't understand they were even happening...?"

“It's possible. It's worth trying. I do usually get my way anyway...” She gave Lance a wicked look; head down with the corners of her mouth turned up.

"So... I guess the only remaining question is... How familiar are you with the area's birds?" He said, still mirroring her devilish grin with his own.

“Good enough for our boy. I've read about some of the native species; I doubt he's given the jungle much of a second thought before now.”

"Great..." He said, looking back ahead of them, and picking up his pace a bit more. "So, while I have a little chat with him... You hide in the bushes nearby, and mimic whatever local call you can think of. I'll get the stone." He said, crouching as he moved when they neared the edge of the cavern and swiping a pebble. He simply gave it an intense look and it's appearance shaped to something reminicent of The Teardrop. "And then, when I toss him this, make a call, and weave it in with a psychological attack... Right when this enters his hand... Try and make it so that he feels stronger... More confidant... His own ego will do the rest. With any luck, he'll leave... Though I may have another plan in mind...For him that is."

“Lovely, you're full of all kinds of plans. “ She was being a bit flippant as a result of her current lack of patience and a severe dislike of running. “I'll do my best to convey that seductive energy of the stone's power. It shouldn't be difficult for him to accept, what with the stone being so close and our respective illusions. Hopefully there won't be any need for other plans...”

"Yeah... Can't argue with that... Hopefully this is all going to fall into place, just the way we need it too. Who knows. Just be ready to Go Loud if the situation calls for it. I can only do so much to get the rock peacefully... If he attacks, we respond... And one on one, he'd probably be able to beat us... But even with the rock, he can't hold us both off. We just have to keep him out of the air," he said, flicking the safety off of the gun, and returning it to his pocket.

…

The twisted vines and underbrush outside the cave were difficult for Guiliana to navigate in her confining attire. Taking her time, rustling herself between some branches, she watched Lance walk on ahead of her. His stride, his manner, seemed out of place to her. He was rather typical in appearance, in dress, and voice. He was clever enough; a certain kind of wit one sees in someone who does more for themselves than has been given to them.

The strange thing, in Guiliana's mind, however was the confidence with which he carried himself. From what she'd seen, this came from time, experience, and patience. It was not a quality often possessed by the young, whose intensity and urge to speak betrayed them often. For some time, it had been clear to Guiliana that Lance was not as he appeared...however, what he was...Well, Guiliana had some ideas about that.

His readiness to protect her and Stephanie, his quick jump on this trip...the seemingly broken lighter...Shaking her head, Guiliana focused her gaze on the treeline. She needed what Nicolai had, and Lance had proven trustworthy thus far. One thing at a time.

Folding her hands carefully together, she made a quiet call towards Nicolai. Lance was deliberately allowing Nicolai to hear him approach, offering his raised hands in a placating gesture.

Guiliana couldn't hear the conversation fully, only snatches that were carried to her on the breeze. But from the men's expressions on their faces, she gathered a good deal about the transaction that was taking place.

Lance crossed himself, with ginger fingers. Unexpected...Smart. Silently, and without thinking, Guiliana crossed herself as well. In the cover of the leaves, she waited as quietly as she could.

Seeing this gem, and having held it, Guiliana's restless mind was agitated by memories of her study. In a graduate course, she had written a painstakingly crafted paper on the social and religious significance of the Coya.

Plain as if it were yesterday, she could see her professor as he glanced over the contents. His genial face was accompanied by his tuft of whitish hair and closely trimmed grey beard; his frequently smiling lips were pulled tightly across his teeth. “Bella. It's as elegant and well researched as it could be for this hypothesis. But we just don't have the data.”

And as if the words were just spoken, her shoulders dropped in a moment of defeat. Then, for some unaccounted reason, she saw a flash and jerked her chin upwards. The gem had passed into Lance's hands.

Small hairs stood up on her arms, and a wisp of cool air touched the back of her neck.

Who has the data now, Professor?

Lance was responding to the full effects of the stone. Guiliana could see that his mind was processing a large influx of valuable history to him...Maybe what he expected, maybe not. To her eyes, he was merely human. Her gut felt something fouler beneath his common appearance, however. He raised his hand, Teardrop seemingly ready to be tossed back to Nicolai.

Guiliana took a deep breath and focused all her attention on Nicolai. You feel it. It's overwhelming your senses. She pushed her thoughts at him, attempting to direct his mind as she made the call. At the same moment, the stone passed into the air. Caught. Wings opened, Nicolai responding...

And yet Lance stood for a moment, leaving some parting words for Nicolai.

At last, the two parted ways, Lance returning down the path he'd taken to the clearing. Guiliana stayed motionless until the two men were both out of her sight. Then she began to retrace her steps as carefully and quietly as she could.


.


.

[~N~]

Date: August 20th, 2042- August 21st, 2042
Time: 9:05 PM -- to the next day
Location: The Sacred Valley, The Grotto of the Teardrop--Case Del Mar, Lima, Peru--Airport

With a shriek, Stephanie began to sprint for the exit. And suddenly, the room shook as if the entire room was about to give.

“God Damnit… A delayed effect of taking the stone? It doesn’t matter, the girl is right, we need to get the fuck out of here. The stone is as good as gone. He’s either flying away with it right now… Or if you are right about Guiliana, she scored it, and is about to leave us to rot in the pit while she fucks off to Alesia with what’s mine.” He growled to Ben, dropping his arm and holstering the gun in a pocket.

“Survival is paramount weasel boy. If you get out, and are interested, meet me at the Casa del Mar in Lima. Room 203.” He said before bolting for the same corridor as the other three had gone down. His pace slowed a moment as he passed the body of the fallen father.

Ben Frakes instinctively bolted. His senses for these places immediately gave him an advantage in any underground tunnel system. He would find his way by sight, touch and smell much better than the others. He could've easily kept pace with them--all of them. But Lance's words rang out in his mind.

"Meet me at Casa del Mar in Lima. Room 203."

One passage after another twisted and wound down and up, wet and dry alike. The rocks and shadows blended together as Ben took advantage of his transformed abilities, letting the animal side of himself do the walking while his mind did the thinking at an equal pace.

Following Lance would've made the most immediate logical sense. The stone was the objective. It was what he was paid to seize. And his animal side was hellbent on seizing it. But his human side saw the folly of playing this game of cat and mouse. Human beings didn't chase things; they were too slow to do that.

Ben decided that instead of putting his speed into catching up, he would use it instead to get ahead. Peru wasn't a country with a lot of exits, but it was possible that either that stranger or Guiliana, or Lance or Stephanie would find a way out of the jungle, out of the country, on foot, through the air, or by some other method. To chase them, to try to guess which route they might take was pointless. He was one person; he had to get them to come to him.


"Casa del Mar in Lima. Room 203."

Thank you, Lance, he thought. That helped narrow down the possibilities wonderfully, assuming the young man wasn't simply lying to throw Ben off. The young lycanthrope headed full speed back to Lima, by mule, bus, and whatever other means were available to him. He would arrive, with his headstart, ahead of Lance, Guiliana, Stephanie, and possibly the angel, unless he was going to the same place.

Doubtful, considering how he had acted towards the rest of them. And considering the way Lance hung about Guiliana, well, it was a safe bet they would arrive together. So he made a call.

"What do you want?" came a gravelly voice on the other end.

"I'm calling in a favor," Mr. Frakes replied.

"You're putting my ass on the line by calling me like this..."

"I helped bail your ass out a couple of times with money you didn't have. I think you owe me one."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Leave some stuff in a hotel room."

"What?! No way, man. No way. That shit gets back to me--"

"It won't."

"No deal. Shit costs money, and no way am I just leaving it around so it can get traced back--"

"It won't."

"How?"

"I'm buying. Check the drop location in 12 hours. You'll find your payment there."

"Why not just give it to you?"

"Because it's not for me," Ben responded with a hint of annoyance.

"OOHHHHHH!!! I see! Okay... I'll make sure it's delivered in style."

"Wonderful."

"This makes us even though. Don't you try to come back on me for this shit."

"Yeah, yeah. You'll need me again."

"Fat chance."

Ben Frakes hung up and made another call.

"Police," the operator said in Spanish (being that they were in Peru, after all).

"I've got some information on the theft and vandalism of some ruins near Machu Picchu." Ben smirked. This was going to be too easy.

The operator sounded tired. "What is it?"

"That information is classified. Put me through to Detective Espinoza. Tell him a long time associate from a certain island wants to pass along some information."

The operator paused. "One moment."

"Espinoza. Whatcha got for me, Benny?"

"You remember how I lead you to that drug bust last year?"

"Yeah, I seem to remember that you were involved. I also seem to remember leaving out that little detail in the report."

"Remember how famous it made you?"

"Whatcha got this time?"

"A certain valuable stone from the ruins beneath Choquequirao. It''ll likely be in the possession of a young man and a woman who is renting out a room, at the Casa Del Mar. Very famous name. I'm sure you'll recognize it."

"Go on."

"Guiliana Della Romagna. It might not be under her name, but it'll definitely have her last night." He smirked again.

"Ahhh... yes, the name rings a bell. Her father's a pain in the ass, but he pays well. Which room?"

"Room 203," Ben replied. Thank you, Lance.

"They'll be back probably within the next 12-24 hours. Either way, you can have your people waiting for them, but hold off until they arrive otherwise you'll spook them."

"What do you take me for, an idiot? I'll watch your hotel. You better not be wasting my time."

"Trust me, even if they never show, you'll have something on 'em. Just let it play out."

"Alright."

Ben smiled, ending the second call and started singing a little rhyme to himself: "This little piggy went to the Sacred Valley, two little piggies came along. One little piggy went absolutely crazy, and the other just didn't belong. A another little piggy with wings was a sight, and all the piggies got cavern fright, but in the end the piggy named Ben would meet them all when they got off their flight.

In Alesia..."

The one destination he knew they all had to come back to...

[Koti~]

Date: August 20th, 2042- August 21st, 2042
9:05 pm - ???
Location: The caves

Stephanie ran through twisting and turning tunnels, barely keeping focus as she ran. All she heard was the rumbling of the walls, the falling of rocks and her own breathing. Her heart beat in her chest, blood pulsing, and the caves rushed by in a daze.

“I don’t want to … wah!” she screamed as she slipped, falling into the water from previous as she pulled in a mouthful of water. I swam to the surface and spluttered out the water, the entire place having become calm to her ears as she coughed up water and air, eyes swimming.

*Dear gods girl relax. You nearly killed yourself!* A familiar voice rang out in her ears, making her eyes widen with shock and relief. Tears nearly burst into her eyes as she rested against the wall, a place they had been in a few seconds ago.

*Evalon, you are still alive. So glad you are back. Where did you go?* Stephanie asked her, closing her eyes in happiness.

*Simple, I was screwing with Lance, yet you seemed to take it too far. You my dear; have skill, yet it’s highly untrained, and you seriously need to relax. Thank god the water was here, otherwise you would have been killed by your own damn madness.* Evalon berated her, causing her to turn scarlet with embarrassment. She was more just happy to know that Evalon had not completely deserted herself. She shook herself off to try and relax, but her clothes were soaked completely through, and the cold air of the cave was not helping

*Evalon, please, tell me what I need to do to get out of here* Stephanie asked, fear starting to creep into her mind as she feared being left here from the complete lack of anyone around. Evalon sighed at her and was tempted to berate her again, but it was best to keep her calm

*Okay, let me take control* Evalon said, and was surprised to meet no resistance. She shivered as she took control, the fangs and eyes returning to their usual state.

Evalon looked around the cave room, trying to get her bearings. She had made it back to the pool of water that they had come down here in the first place. Looking up the slope, it was a bit too steep of a slope, but hold on. A rope could just barely be seen hanging down from the top, a bit of a jump up, but not much of one if she tried.

“Good, a way out. Guess it was left here earlier.” Evalon whispered to herself; then jumped. She missed the rope by just a few inches and snarled. She rubbed her hands together quickly, warming up her fingers. She sighed some, and looked around the walls to see if she could find some purchase. She sighed at the utter lack of wall support, or anything large.
She headed back to the edge of the pool and turned back to the tunnel that she had slide down, and dashed. She ran up and pressed up against the wall, then kicked up. She grabbed the rope just in time, and hung for dear life, her feet dangling in the air.

Evalon began pulling herself up hand over hand, thanking whatever she could thing of for her small frame and otherwise weightless body. Once she got her feet up, she made easy work up the wall and managed to get up through the tunnel with difficulty.

She rested against the wall and panted, then untied the rope from the rock and pulled it up. She figured that she could get some use out of the rope and headed forwards, going through the memory she had best of walking through the cave, which was, at best, hazy beyond belief, but enough to work with at the cave. Her eyes drifted over the dew covered walls, dulled without the light from before. It was easy to tell where she was going, and soon enough, she was at the entrance to where they had come in and the rope had been left, which was nice. She wondered if she would be able to climb through the hole from the beginning, and tightened the rope around her waist. She began to climb upwards, hand over hand, and headed upwards through the rope, enjoying the very tight squeeze through the hole they had managed through earlier.

“Well, that takes care of that, now to figure out how the hell to get back to the hotel…” Evalon mumbled to herself, heading out of the room that they had been in from the beginning.

[Anne Bonny]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 5:00-6:00 AM
LOCATION: in a clearing, within a copse of forest, a couple miles from Bran Castle, Romania

I’m a murderer…

Thomas had never thought such a thing could be possible for himself and something deep within railed at the idea of taking someone’s life when he was trained and practiced at instead preserving it. It twisted his stomach into knots, brought a queasy feeling that he knew were more nerves and adrenaline than anything else. He’d killed a man and there was no taking it back. As a doctor his hands were stained… his principals sullied, and there was little to be done for it. Gihst may have delivered the killing stroke but he had made it possible by releasing the rope. Together they were conspirators in a homicide. God he longed for the way his life had been a week ago. Things were so much simpler then.

They reached the clearing and the good doctor had to release a breath of faint amusement as what appeared to be a Catholic priest came toward them, shouting a friendly greeting as any priest of his faith might. God had one hell of a sense of humor… He glanced at the other two while the man approached, hand outstretched as if already expecting to trade grips with at least one of them. He didn’t see either of them jumping at the idea of conversing with a holy priest so, dirty as his hands felt after that grim deed, Thomas Flynn accepted the hand of Brother Stephen with an attempt at a friendly smile.

“Thomas Fynn, Brother Stephen, and you hit the nail on the head. We’re tourists exploring some of the area. It’s quite beautiful, is it not?”

The doctor turned then, introducing Tansy so that she might have a chance at joining the conversation. His hands may be bloody but that didn't mean he couldn’t practice good manners, after all.

The girl had started at the priest's appearance, but quickly regained her composure. She also smiled at Brother Stephen and took his hand, shaking it vigorously to disguise her trembling.

It was odd, she thought with an inward frown, that a holy man would be out, roaming the countryside of a castle in the wee hours of the morning. It may have been the adrenaline, or the lack of sleep, or perhaps memories of TJ's blood spilling out onto the cavern floor, but Tansy seemed to recall a great many horror movies about evil priests who were monsters in disguise, both literally and figuratively.

She took a step closer to Thomas and took his arm in her hands. "Nothing like hiking around a bit on a nice summer evening, right?" she said brightly, though her eyes narrowed. "Are you up to the same?"

Brother Stephen returned both of their handshakes warmly, though he noticed, both in their hands and eyes that there was a sense of "put togetherness" to them... a constructed sort of appearance. These two were... unsettled. He filed this mental note away in his mind and smiled again, nodding with a short, quick half-bow.

"I'm here on service to the Church, of course," he replied quite simply with a very obvious truth. Then he explained further: "Of late, the Church has taken a deeper interest in Romania, as there are... connections to particular events that have occurred here and holy writings, and of course--as we are the authorities in this particular field of study and expertise--it is our holy duty to go forth into the world as we know it and uncover these truths, wherever they may lie hidden..." Another brief flash of a smile.

"... or buried." A pause.

"This area in particular has seen much bloodshed and ravages of war in the name of measures that were taken in faith, but perhaps might have strayed from it. The place we are standing on even now no doubt holds secrets buried beneath our feet that bear further study and attention under the watchful eye of our Mother Church."

"And so I come, and find myself here. But you seem troubled," the priest remarked with a cinching of his brows. "I have an eye for these things and plenty of experience with confession, I assure you," Stephen glibly added with a dose of humor. He quickly followed this with a reassuring hand and the words: "Only if you wish to, of course..."

Thomas put on the best smile he could ever muster, the same one he had always used on worried patients in an attempt to put them at ease. It was an effort to hide the sudden flare of paranoid concern he felt at the priest's astute questions. He told himself the man was not meaning anything with his questions, that spotting the fact that they were not entirely settled in this area was just a natural thing. After all a man of the cloth had to be able to read people a bit if they wanted to accurately help. Perhaps his astute attention to subtle details was just a byproduct of his lifetime pursuits. That's what he tried to convince himself anyway.

He shared a glance with Tansy, thinking fast for the proper answer to supply Brother Stephen. Lie too much and the man would likely spot it. Say nothing and their guilty was practically guaranteed. Stephen said he was simply here for the church but that meant nothing about what the church wanted here. Could he be after the same thing they were?

He gave a soft laugh, more at the absurdity of the situation he had landed himself in than out of the humor others might take it for. "You know its a funny thing." he began as his arm slid around Tansy's waist, affirming that they were a couple in the priest's eyes. "We've been wandering out here a while now and we're not entirely certain where we are. I'm not all that versed in the lay of the land, unfortunately."

The priest smirked before he could contain it. A moment later his expression relaxed with a parting of his lips in a silent, "ah" of acknowledgment--the kind you get from someone who is humoring your statement--and placed his left hand warmly upon Dr. Fynn's right shoulder.

"Thomas and Tansy," he said, placing his other hand warmly upon her left shoulder, "I understand. We all wander from time to time, and I am glad to have found you out here, wondering this clearing in these woods, in the shadow of that infamous castle."

"It is my duty, of course, to shepherd those who are lost in the shadow of such places back to pastures they recognize, and to that end, I welcome your company until you find your way." Then he dropped his hands and turned towards the distant looming castle.

"I find myself venturing to the Castle later this evening. I was wondering, have you been there?"

Tansy rubbed her shoulder where the man's hand had been, trying to brush away the goose bumps his touch had left. "Yup, we have!" she said, perhaps too quickly. "But that's okay, you can go ahead. It really is neat, and you should totally check it out."

She threw a glance at Thomas, hoping to communicate that she really did not want the creepy man in black hanging around with them. Tansy was not at all pleased that he had been so friendly with the priest in the first place. They needed to just find that stone and get the hell out of Romania.

"We'll probably just wander around out here some more. We're not really that lost. And we wouldn't want to hold you back from your own exploring."

The priest looked at the young woman with a concerned frown and then removed his hands. "Are you sure? I wouldn't mind having a guide or two on my own journey to that castle. No doubt even those of us of the cloth can feel a kind of fear in a place with such a shadow as this one casts." His eyes gradually shifted to the castle, a feeling of reserved trepidation behind them.

He seemed lost in thought for a moment. Just as the silence became terribly awkward, he shook himself out of his thoughts, whatever they were, and muttered under his breath, "especially tonight of all nights..."

And then he snapped back into the friendly, collected priest that addressed them originally. "Very well, I wish you godspeed and good fortune on your wanderings and journeys. May the Lord keep you and watch over you."

[Ad Infinitum]

’He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And when you look long into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you (http://www.myspace.com/music/player?sid=53561620&ac=now).’ – Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil.

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 4:59AM
LOCATION: Carpathian montane forest, a couple miles from Bran Castle, Romania



The August dawn was raw. A heavy fog off the Carpathians hung head-high between the dense pine boles that ribbed the deep wood, its stillness broken by the discordant calls of songbirds and the occasional, melancholy cluck of the cuckoo. Down in the stout canyon sides of the cavern sink, a figure squatted on the shale bed, as lithe and muscular as some pale wild beast. There in the half light, every shadow seemed to fade into the black, crown-of-thorns tattoo between those strong shoulders as he washed in the silty waters of a brook.

Gihst blinked at the blood that faded away with the current. Then when his abstracted gaze focused on the rosary that swayed from his throat, he paused, kneading his fatigue bruised eyes.

There was something kind of sick about the way that things had come to be, came inevitable retrospect.

Over his lifetime, he had looked deep into the darkness of human nature, tasted the forbidden fruit that had brought despair, wrath and sleepless nights; a knowledge that would lie against his skin forever, rasping. But wounds could only scar over or rot, callus or be worn through; but through the thickening of the hide came desensitization. And even so, now and then, guilt crept in to sit on his chest like a night hag, gnawing. Then despite all that righteous fury, he had once again yielded up to the animal, and now that halo slipped down to choke him with a lingering regret over the good left undone.

Regret, something he was accustomed to manage, he thought. The images came to him: family pictures in Hunt’s wallet, then her innocent tears that had turned a knife in his guts, parted disassociation like the scales that fell from the eyes of Saul. In that moment of polarity, a bitter creature had stirred inside with a vicious will to break that viral shred of purity…no, he crumpled the thought, blinking the memory away. Bad medicine.

He hauled out a charcoal grey, button-up shirt jacket from his messenger bag. Straightening, he shrugged it on and casually buttoned up.

Hunt had not been insane; he had simply not wanted to die. Or, be as it may, stories of the Isle of Alesia may have brought rotting fear, threatening of a life wasted in imprisonment, or worse. And being the notation of a hospital present on the Isle, the likelihood of scientific testing was a distinct possibility considering its alleged ‘patients.’

Goddamned it, he thought bitterly. There was no justification for what they had done, how they had turned like animals on the seemingly ‘sickly of the pack.’ He would not be so ignorant to claim rebuttal, nor would he lie to himself; no, he would shoulder the sin.

He should have prevented this. To loose Hunt and they’d only been out here-.

A distant crackle of disturbed pine boughs and the protest of startled birds brought his eyes swinging over his shoulder, intense.

They were being hunted, he knew; Fynn had been in the hands of the Bureau not three hours ago. There was neither time, nor gain from dwelling upon what could have been done for a dead man.

He heard the eerie groan of a pre-rut red elk shutter on the cool air and relaxed. Stashing the rosary in his shirt collar, he rolled off his squat into a four-legged trot up the incline of the cavern sink, not making a sound as he goes, in that odd, silent gait of his.

Nigh was the resolution. Through beneficence, he sowed seeds of trust in hope of enfeebling suspicions set against him. In addition, the opportunity to slip away inconspicuously while cleaning up their dirty deeds had not been lost on him. He had secured his tactical position with a double agenda; from cover, he could keep one eye on his questionable company, and watch for the Bureau with another. On this two-sided coin, chances were better that he could warn of approaching danger, or nip betrayal in the bud. He could trust no one, nothing but his purpose, he thought. He could not allow the Bloodstone to leave his sight.

His shadow bowed, defused, and lengthened unnaturally as it flowed into the stretched silhouette of some beast with a lolling tongue.
_______________________________________________


TIME: 5:05AM



There was a voice; the recognition brought a bristle, and something stopped stone in its tracks amidst the gloom, save the twitch and swivel of its pointed ears. It waited, listening for…

…nothing; the murmur was lost in the breeze as it fell off, the black and white haze still as death. Then the fog brought forth a roving hound, its long and shaggy coat left bedraggled in the cool humidity, mottled charcoal color melding with the broken shadows. This common stray drifted down the crumbling bank as it nosed through the moldering loam, bare hot breath breaking around a grimacing maw and blue-black tongue. It waded in and out of vision between clots of fog like a big, iron black wraith.

Something with a cold, unyielding surface bumped past its wet nose and the stray drew rein, circling the base of the object; it was a solitary stone set vertically in the ground, and though featureless to the canine eye, it was heavily carved to the touch.

The black dog unceremoniously capered sideways and lifted his leg on the Slavic megalith. Ol’ Vlad understood the power of fear, Gihst measured. Where better to vault away a dark secret than on soured grounds, the source ruins of these standing stones, as it may be…

“……-and you-…-nail on the head-…-tourists-…-some of the area-……-is-…-not-…” came a broken voice, barely audible. His head lifted, one pointed ear pivoting like a turret to track the source. Fynn, he gauged. Not the unknown voice; maybe Fynn and Tansy had found some company. Gihst bristled, turning on coiled haunches to leap atop the overhang, as though weightless, stalking the conversation.

“…like hiking around a bit on a nice summer evening…” He heard Tansy then, clearer. Small talk, he gathered from the sound of things.

"…I'm here on service to the Church, of course…” said a voice, that unearthly voice he had heard broken upon the wind. He came a measured distance closer, smoothly, stopping short of the forest line; Gihst could not see who belonged to the voice from this distance.

“…of late, the Church has taken a deeper interest in Romania, as there are... connections to particular events that have occurred here and holy writings, and of course--as we are the authorities in this particular field of study and expertise--it is our holy duty to go forth into the world as we know it and uncover these truths, wherever they may lie hidden…” the voice said. ‘-Church’, his thoughts echoed; he heard the capital letter in the word, just as the difference between ‘god’ and ‘God.’ The Vatican, interesting.

"... or buried." The priest paused there. A good communicator would place an odd pause to alert people to pay attention to something, much the way an evangelist would stop after some meaningful statement to allow his words to sink in deep. Gihst knew without thinking about it that it had been intended. He was baiting them, he thought, his countenance darkening. Very interesting.

"…this area in particular has seen much bloodshed and ravages of war in the name of measures that were taken in faith, but perhaps might have strayed from it. The place we are standing on even now no doubt holds secrets buried beneath our feet that bear further study and attention under the watchful eye of our Mother Church…” Gihst noted the word ‘buried’ had been repeated; though nothing was certain, if anyone knew about something so reputedly pseudo natural as the Bloodstone, it would be the Vatican. Not ‘on’ soured grounds, Gihst thought, backpedaling on rolling withers into the deep wood, silent as the darkness swallowed him whole. ‘In’ them.

[RisingPhoenix]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 9:35 PM
Location: A Clearing in the Forest; Waiting to retrieve Stephanie

As Lance turned to go about his business, secretly retaining the teardrop relic, Nicolai stood with a stone in his hand; something wasn't right, but who was Nicolai to question? The stone that he held resembled the teardrop, but there was something missing. Sighing, he closed his eyes and cleared his mind.

"Nicolai, it would be best to join this man, no?" Angel asked.

"I was thinking about it, but I'm not sure if I can trust him," Nicolai replied.

"You don't have to trust him. As the saying goes, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Follow him, get close to him, he will take you to the other relics and who knows what powers you will be able to access when you find them. Keep your true intentions hidden Nicolai, and keep a close eye on him. Be his 'right hand man' so to speak," Angel stated.

Nicolai smirked and opened his eyes.

"LANCE!" he called out as he rushed up behind him, "Do you have room for one more? Father Francis was the only person I trusted out here and he was the one who brought me here. Without him I'm lost...."

Nicolai paused and sighed, his emotions about Father Francis showing. The man had done a lot for him, and in the back of his mind he felt that if it hadn't been for Father Francis, he'd be dead right now. He looked back up at Lance and gave the man a stern look.

"My powers, my abilities, and my skills will come in very handy Lance, and you know it."

Lance's demonic form smiled evilly at his words, invisible to the eye, while his illusory self simply turned with a smirk.

"I was hoping you'd say something like that Nicolai... Welcome aboard." He said, coolly, voice slightly more hoarse than it was prior. "I'm going to go meet with one of my associates. Do you know the direction back to Lima?" He asked intently.

Nicolai smirks and listens to Lance speak. This would be his chance to learn the ropes, but also to get close to the other relics. He thought about it for a moment. Lance had asked him if he knew his way back to Lima. That was a big No; in fact he wasn't even sure which road Father Francis had taken to get them to the starting point, to the entrance. Sighing, he looked at Lance and shook his head.

"No, I don't."

Lance smirked. "That fine. Look... Here's a favor I'd like to ask of you." He said, lifting a finger, pointing across the jungle. "In that direction... It's where we came in... There's a temple over that way. If you hurry, there should be a teenage girl coming out the front entrance any moment, or a black cat. It depends really..." He said, trailing off the think that one over really quick. His life sucked. "Her name is Stephanie. She's integral to my plan from this point, and she's part of our group. Tell her I didn't mean to be a cruel and... Well, terrifying as I was, but Evalon was trying to kill us. Tell her that Lance and Guiliana would really enjoy if she came back to us. As it were, not only do I feel obligated to get her out of Peru since we drug her here, I also need to talk to her." he explained. So, if you'll be so kind to do that, I and my associate will be waiting at the cavern we exited from. If you can't find your way back, scream... Or do something noticeable, and I'll be able to show you the way."

Nicolai listened attentively to Lance as he spoke and pointed. With a nod, his wings appeared and before long he was flying at high speed in the direction he was told to go. It didn't take him long to find and land at the entrance. He hid, waiting to see if Stephanie, the girl he was sent to recover, would come out any time soon.

[Koti~]

Awesome co with Rising
Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 9:45 PM
Location: A Clearing in the Forest; Waiting to retrieve Stephanie

Having double checked her exit, she slinked out slowly, the rope slung across her left shoulder and ending by her right hip. Red eyes gleaming in the moon light, she smiled, white fangs glistening like ivory. No one had come to try and reclaim her, nor had anyone come to attack her either. While this made it a bit difficult to get back to the hotel, she was glad to finally be alone and plan. Her hair ruffled some as a breeze sprung up in the air, bearing with it something else she was not expecting, another form. Barely registering who it was, she dived back into the building, looking over to where she figured the form had come from, tightening the grip she had on the rope.

“Who..whoever is there, show yourself. I have rope!” Stephanie cried out in a shaky voice, all security lost at the thought of someone having already managed to find her, even though she had gone a completely different path than the others.

Nicolai stepped from his hiding place and looked upon the girl with a slight smirk.

"You're the girl from the grotto? You're the one Lance wants me to bring back to him," Nicolai stated as he stepped closer to the girl, "look I'm not going to hurt you, I just need for you to come with me."

His voice was welcoming and pleasant. He could only think about his boyfriend he had left. It made him wonder how he was doing and what he was doing to keep himself busy. His proposal still fresh in his mind, and he wondered how he'd take being told that he'd not see Nicolai for quite some time. No doubt he would've tried to kill those who had hurt him, but Nicolai was actually enjoying this experience for it was something out of his normal routine. He was actually glad he had went to the library that day, and he was glad he had met Father Francis, although he already missed the old man. He looked at Stephanie and smiled.

"Are you coming?" He asked softly.

Stephanie peered around at the man, not trusting his smile, not when it came to Lance. The man had already threatened her with pain if she didn't just sit and be quiet. This could be a trap to punish her for what she had done back in that cave.

"How do I know this isn't some trap." Stephanie asked the man, tightening her grip on the rope while peering at the man. He seemed nice enough, but she wouldn't trust him, not just because he asked nicely. Already, her mind began to travel to Evalon, to try and think of a way out of this mess.

He could tell the girl was on edge, and he already knew Lance wasn't the type of man to be very trusting of, still this was his chance to prove to Lance that he could do what was asked of him. He sighed and lowered his hands.

"I'm not here to fight or anything like that. Lance wanted me to come and get you. He wanted me to tell you that he didn't mean to be cruel in the cave. He said that someone named Evalon was trying to kill them and he wanted you to know that he and Guiliana would really enjoy if you came back. He really needs to talk to you. I'm here to make sure you get there safely. So what do you say?"

Nicolai held out his hand for the girl to take and waited for her response. It occurred to him that he hadn't even once given his name to the girl.

"I'm Nicolai by the way," he said softly.

*Evalon tried to kill them … that does make sense of when things went black, but then why did Lance seem… no, I am over thinking things.* Stephanie said to herself, trying to slow her breathing while looking at Nicolai’s outstretched hand. She blushed some, trying to think through how things would end up if she went to see Lance. The thing about Guilana had to be kinda real, because she seemed to have cared for her somewhat… right?

“Okay… I’ll come with… but I am keeping my rope.” She said while tightening her grip on the rope around her body, thinking it could be of some use to defend her if this turned out badly. Blushing deep, she took Nicolai’s hand, never having held someone’s hand before, well not by choice. She tried smiling up at the man, but only ended up with a sheepish smile at Nicolai before turning her head away with a blush again.

When she took his hand, Nicolai smiled. He had heard everything she said and simply nodded.

"Don't worry, I won't let anything bad happen to you. Now I've never flew with another person, so bare with me. I hope you don't mind...."

Nicolai scooped Stephanie's small frame up into his arms and stretched out his beautiful wings. Taking a breath, he concentrated and remembered what Lance had told him. He and his associate would be at the cavern they had exited from. It shouldn't be that hard to find them

"Hold on to me Stephanie," Nicolai stated as in one quick jumping motion he had took flight and was heading towards Lance.

He didn't fly too fast, but fast enough to get there and deliver Stephanie to Lance./

Stephanie gripped tight into his shirt as he took flight, fear and adrenaline coursing through her as they took to the skies, wind wipping her hair around. Her eyes were wide as she stared at the ground flying underneath them, tightening her grip even further on Nicolai. She blushed again as she realized how close she was to him, even able to feel the beat of his heart against her fingers.

“I’ll hold you to that promise” Stephanie muttered under her breath, finally tearing her eyes away to the ground.

[~N~]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 6:00 am - 3:00 pm
LOCATION: Bran Castle, Romania

"Get me samples of that blood," Brassier needlessly ordered. The supervisor was not pleased. He shook and cautioned and fluttered his hands and stammered and huffed and paced. This was not okay with him. This was not acceptable. The other FBI directors would hear about this. We would get a hold of an ambassador or someone. This Brassier had brazenly crossed so many lines, the supervisor was half a breath away from ordering the military to drag his ass out of here.

But they had found fresh blood. He pulled out his phone and began dialing.

"Who are you calling?" Brassier turned on him.

"Interpol," the supervisor shot back with a glare that screamed "go ahead, try and tell me I shouldn't".

But even Gerald Brassier knew that Interpol would probably need to be involved at some point. He grumbled to himself when Agent Sandler called out to him.

"Got enough here to run tests. If they're in any official database, we'll find out whose blood this is."

"Good work. Garrus, you got anything?"

Agent Garrus had gone ahead, his flashlight roving from this way to that, scanning the walls and ground for other signs of their quarry. "Shit, no. Lots of creepy stuff down here, sir. Definitely something goin' on here."

"This is a historical site, agents," the supervisor chimed in. "You men are trespassing on untouched ruins that should be reserved for analysis and study. Interpol is on the way. When they get here, they're going to want your paperwork and they're going to request you leave. The President and Prime Minister will also be hearing about this."

Brassier, clearly irritated, turned to the balding man again. "Look. We're tracking fugitives here which I have international clearance for, like I told you. Now my men and I will certainly give the necessary paperwork and credentials to Interpol when they get here, and I'll be out of your hair..." Brassier paused, "... or what's left of it within 24 hours. Until then, this place is going to be under surveillance."

Turning to Sandler and Garrus, he gruffly ordered them to gather what they could for analysis by the labs. In his heart, Special Agent Brassier was frustrated. He was on to something here, but it was mired in bureaucratic bullshit.

"They could be anywhere, but they're not down here," Garrus said with a final sigh.

"Something happened here. They're somewhere in the area. We're going to find them," Brassier replied in a tone brimming with purpose.

"What makes you think they're still here?" Garrus answered in a rare challenge.

"Because if they aren't," Brassier emphasized, "We'll catch them at the border when they try to jump!" Then he turned to the supervisor and added, "With our Interpol friends! Christ!"

The X-Files Director stormed off in a huff, and his two reluctant agents, encumbered with state of the art flamethrowers and blood samples, along with the incensed supervisor, followed behind him.

In a couple hours, they were joined at a private headquarters in town by two Interpol agents and mobile lab which was running tests that cross-referenced the blood through official US federal, military, criminal and all manner of official databases, as well as those through Interpol. It took a few hours but eventually a few matches came back for a Timothy James Hunt.

"Gotcha, you son of a bitch. Now where are you..." Brassier muttered.

"We'll send this to customs and the border patrol," the Interpol agents offered, "though Romania is not the most effectively protected country, and presents a fugitive with little challenge."

"Still," the other noted, "he won't get far without being recognized by someone or picked up on some camera."

The first Interpol agent, approached Special Agent Director Brassier with the unspoken matter of concern he had withheld from conversation until now.

"There is the matter of your intrusion on Bran Castle."

Brassier glared.

"While this matter is diplomatically difficult, we're confident that you will be amenable to refraining from any further intrusions by your men," the first Interpol agent continued.

"Amenable? Excuse me, Agent Gareleux? You know who I am. I told that bullshit supervisor that we'd be gone and out of his hair in less than twenty-four hours. I think that's not asking too much for you to allow."

"Pardon, Mr. Brassier, but we've allowed too much already. If you have further complaints, you may certainly take them up with the Foreign Relations Offices, or your own ambassadors, but for now, you are prohibited by order of international European law from entering the premises of Bran Castle again. Is that clear?"

"I can't believe this diplomatic international relations BULLSHIT!" Brassier fumed. He turned and put his hands on his hips, sucking in his breath and trying to hold back the torrent of fury that was quickly rising up within him.

The Interpol officers were stonefaced and unfazed.

"Do we understand each other, Agent Brassier?"

"Perfectly. Fucking. Clear." Brassier seethed through his teeth.

"Thank you for your cooperation in this matter," the second Interpol agent replied and they both departed to take care of other business.

"Garrus, Sandler," Brassier barked out.

"Yessir?" they both jumped.

"We're going undercover. Get ready."

Neither one was going to ask if this was a smart move. After a moment of hesitation, they nodded in loyal agreement.

"Yessir."

[~N~]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 5:00-6:00 AM
LOCATION: in a clearing, within a copse of forest, a couple miles from Bran Castle, Romania

Brother Stephen paused and glanced around for a moment, his attention seemingly distracted by his surroundings.

"I daresay, I would rather at least lead you out of these woods," he turned back to the couple, Thomas and Tansy, and spoke in a lowered voice. "I don't question your beliefs, but this place is not safe. You are standing in what has traditionally been accepted as the region where the ruler of Bran Castle had his feast among the spiked and tortured of the Ottoman army that marched against him."

With a few movements, he fished out a woodcut from his robes.

http://www.jrclifford.com/vlad_the_impaler_ilustration_germanic__3.jpg

"Behold, an engraving done a half century later. You are standing in the spot where these bodies surrounded him, and it may well have been that their bodies and bones fed the soil that gave rise to this same forest six centuries later. A forest of the slain... of the damned..." Brother Stephen said in low tones, and as he did, it seemed the sky darkened and grew crimson.

It was no normal sunrise. A blanket of clouds, glowing with an apocalyptic hue instead gave an eerie rose hue to the forest around them, darkening it to shades of shadowy red, as though the world around them was now behind red tinted lenses. From their left and right, various noises now echoed from the forest.

Crackling.

Knocking. Splintering. Snapping. Like bones upon dry autumn leaves. And voices...

... like a distant howling wind, and the screeching of owls, hawks, or gulls... like they were there, but not for certain.

Shapes shifted in the woods around them. Maybe it was just the leaves and trees whispering through the breeze, but the shapes moved against the wind here and then in chaotic fashion.

"The blood has never left this land," Brother Stephen intoned.

"I should lead you out of here, away from this place." He drew out his cross and held it before him, as if warding any damned spirits that were trapped by the horrors that took place here several hundred years ago--trapped in a purgatory that they could not escape, a limbo that kept them from reaching any kind of peace or salvation.

"My residence is not far. Come, let me at least guide you from here..." he insisted.

"It's not safe. Today is the eve of that day when he put ten-thousand Turks on spears in the shadow of his own castle and ate his dinner surrounded by their impaled corpses. Tonight there is no moon. It is altogether unwise to be alone in these dark woods without spiritual protection, even if you do not believe as we do."

"Come, let me take you back to town at least," he added finally, waving them on and turning to march back towards the hamlet that had grown a short distance from the castle. "It is not safe here..." he repeated, as his eyes swiveled this way and that as a warm unnatural gust blew through and around them, stale with the smell of dead blood...

[Rook]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 9:35 PM
Location: Edge of the Clearing

Stepping gingerly through the branches and underbrush, Guiliana teetered back and forth slightly. She steadied herself against a slender tree trunk and looked around for Lance's return.

She felt the press of time on her shoulders. Her father’s plane had been delayed, but he had an appointment over dinner this evening. He would most likely stop at the hotel on his way...he insisted on changing for dinner whether or not the company was professional. And he still hadn't told her what he was here for. Sure, it was business. Yes, He preferred to arrange business to suit his little games. More to make one strategy to hide another, I think.

Lance walked unhindered through the brush and trees, quick in pace, and rather upbeat in spirits as the deviant smile on his face dictated, as his usual human form began to shift and waver, rippling like water as it began to take a new, yet familiar shape. It was as though his bones were stretching. His body filled out properly, once more he looked like himself, only now he stood at nearly six feet two inches. As he reached her, he let out a low laugh.
"Mission accomplished" he chimed out, devilishly, holding up the rock between two fingers. "You ok?" He asked, seeing her lean there against that tree. Guiliana chuckled in response.

"Better now. I was just relaxing for a moment." She looked at Lance, his general disposition had changed somewhat...He seemed suddenly less 'normal' than before. The stone dangling between his fingers was gleaming unnaturally too.

"What about the others, then?"

Lance pocketed the stone, and looked around. "Nicolai... The man from the cave... He's going to... Collect Stephanie." He smirked. "They're going to meet us back at the cave we exited through." He said, waiting for a possibly volatile response.

"Collect her. Like a crazy-pants piece of luggage. Fabulous. I understand the risks of leaving her behind, but I am all but out of patience for her bullshit." She sighed, "If we are to trust each other with these sorts of things, I need to know what you're after."

I know what you mean... Stephanie is... A bit of pain. But for all of her flaws, she could be just as big of a boon." He said, deviant smirk never leaving his face. He walked forward, coming very close, and looked her in the eye. "You're a business owner Guiliana... You know how it is. The only difference is... You want to run a hotel chain. Me? I'm after the whole damn marble." He said.
"I run the hotel for my father. It allows me the freedom to pursue my other studies. You? I had no doubt that you're after the whole damn marble. What I mean, about what you're after...You intend to use her as a pawn. An attack dog. Something. But she has her own agenda, too. And don't forget it."

"As far as Stephanie goes? Every King has an Army. Every God, Followers... And Stephanie is the best way to start that army. She's a tool, but she's in no way a dull one. Once we have the legion she can provide... The takeover begins. She can do what she wants after that... If she wants to walk away, she'll have my blessing. “He stepped back and walked away a few steps.”And if Evalon shows up, and decides that she wants to throw down?" His hand was then engulfed in flame. "I've heard that undead burn well. I'll test that theory."
Stopping short of a hiss, Guiliana bared her teeth at the flames Lance had summoned. "Take care with your little theories. She's not stupid, but she lacks direction. She is flighty and fearful. I would also like to hear more from Evalon, see what exactly is hiding under the surface."

Guiliana cocked her head at Lance, waiting for him to dispense with his trick.
"Relax; I'd never use it on you. We're a team in this." He said turning back to face her. "And yes, she does lack direction... And yes, Evalon could be a threat... But I only need them to give me all they know about the delightful little hospital they escaped from. Security Stations... Cameras... On call doctors... Any staff that may be worthy of life..." He said. And most importantly the electric box and backup generators."

Teeth still bared, Guiliana watched him as he attempted to soothe her ruffled feathers. "Don't expect the information that you get from them to be fully accurate. They were contained, separated. And memory fabricates. It would be worthwhile to get some actual public records on that place. They may be partially fabricated because of what they're hiding there...but it will help to corroborate what we get out of Ms. Kitty and Dr. Hyde. Blueprints. Employees. I think you get my drift."

"Good thinking... When we get back to Alesia that's the first thing we'll do..." he said, absently flicking his hand open and letting the fire dissipate. "And I have a feeling I know what you're thinking, and don't worry. You've been nothing but helpful... Good to me... When my allies take this world... I don't plan this to be a simple 'Iron Fisted Dictatorship'... You've already more than earned your keep, between the trust you've shown, you're willingness to simply hand me the stone, among other things... Anyone that proves themselves useful enough will be rewarded greatly when this is over... I promise you that." He said, beginning to walk back to the entrance to the cavern they exited from. "We should probably hurry... If we want to make decent time getting back to Lima we should be waiting for them when they arrive."

"I will make sure we get what we need. As for what I'm thinking..."She chucked. "I hope it's not. Because and Iron Fist is exactly what we're rebelling against, no? Those who would control us, forcing us onto an island. In our hunger for power, we must not forget what it is we are truly after. I'll most likely have company at the hotel when we return. We should keep the kitty in the carrier."

"Not a problem. We'll lock her up... Send Angel Boy back to wherever he came from... The only question then, is what do I do while your father is there...?" Lance pondered aloud as they walked.

"She needs to understand why we're hiding her. Otherwise we're just going to have a surly animal on our hands. As for you, I’ll tell him you're a student helping me with my research. But I'll need a minute with him before you come in. He doesn't handle surprises as well as I would like." She responded simply, thoughts as quick and precise as a semi-automatic sniper rifle.

"Works for me... And I'm sure Steph will understand, I’ll explain... It's not the first time we've hid her in cat form before... Hell, it's not the first time we've hid her in cat for in the last twenty four hours..." He said thinking over.

"She will, but she needs to have the reins on Evalon. Evalon will not appreciate that. "Watching the improvised flare go into the canopy of trees, she smirked a little. "A flair for the dramatic, I see. I hope that wings reduce travel time. We need to get back soon."

Guiliana rearranged herself, smoothing her hair and clothes from the dust in the cave.

"Well, with this all cleared up, only one thing left to do..." He said, fire returning to his hand as he looked up through the canopy at the open sky above the cave entrance. He built up the biggest fireball he could manage at the time, which ended up only being softball sized, and launched it into the sky. When it reached fifty feet straight up, well above any nearby canopy, it burst outward much like a flare, and dissipated. "There we go. They should have no problem finding us now... "

[Anne Bonny]

(copost with N!)

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 6:00 AM
LOCATION: in a clearing, within a copse of forest, a couple miles from Bran Castle, Romania

As the holy man spoke, Tansy's eyes were glued to the picture he had produced from his robes. Blood, bodies, the Impaler feasting as human souls were slaughtered around him... It was the same woodcut that the crazy man in the hospital had spoken of. The same thing that had lead her to Romania in the first place.

"...You are standing in the spot where these bodies surrounded him, and it may well have been that their bodies and bones fed the soil that gave rise to this same forest six centuries later. A forest of the slain... of the damned..."

Tansy's blue eyes, now wide in the deep grey pre-morning night swiveled to take in the forest around her. She could hear the snapping of sticks... or was it bones in the forest beyond? Death seemed to hang in the air like a heavy blanket, suffocating the mortals where they stood. She gripped Thomas' arm even tighter, her nails digging into his skin as she pressed herself close to his side.

Her breath was shallow in her lungs and terror had begun its squeeze on her heart, threatening to give rise to panic. But Tansy kept her reasoning somehow, and as Brother Stephen continued to speak of death and damnation, she slipped one of her feet out of her sandal and sank her toes into the moist soil beneath.

The taste of musky, rich earth filled her mouth as surely as if she had bent down and taken the dirt onto her tongue itself. There was water, decomposing plants, lush moss and the tickle of insects. But suddenly another sensation poured in. Metallic, hot, thick and sweet. Tansy drew in a sudden gasp. The ground itself tasted of blood.

She slipped her foot back into her flip flop just as Stephen was insisting he lead them back to town. Before she could even think on her own words, Tansy was shaking her head.

"No, absolutely not!" she stammered. "I mean... We came for a nice, private night out. And we're going to see this through, ancient superstition or no."

She glanced at Thomas, feeling somewhat frantic to convince herself that they were making the right decision. The Bloodstone had to be close. She could taste it. And this man, this priest, was not going to lure them away so easily.

Brother Stephen was stunned for a moment by the woman's quite obviously frantic and terrified refusal. Fear had clearly paralyzed her into indecision. He stopped and implored them both again, "Surely you can sense it; the malevolence of this place! We must go!" He looked to Thomas, man to man, and said, "You must be strong and not let the spirits of this place drive you from the righteous path. They seek to keep you here, do you not see? They have collected bodies, blood!" He exhaled and his whole body shook with confession and revelation, "This is why I am here... the source of this spiritual madness must stop. I implore you... come with me." He waved the couple on.

"Be strong?" Tansy barked before Thomas could even reply. "Since when did being "strong" involve running away from someplace? And is there a reason you turned to him when you said that? I don't know where you're from Padre, or what your dusty old books tell you, but in America women can be just as strong as men!"

Her voice was rising as she let anger take control. If the stranger wasn't going to take a polite "no", or even the more insistent "no" she had given him, stronger words would have to be used to drive him away.

She shook her now tangled blond hair. "We wanted a nice time... alone." Tansy continued, letting a wicked grin creep onto her face. "And to be perfectly honest, what we were planning on doing out here is nothing a priest would have any experience in, okay? And your ghost stories? They're kind of killing the mood."

Turning on her heels, Tansy dragged Thomas by his arm off to nowhere in particular. "Have fun at the castle," she growled over her shoulder.

That last glance revealed a glimpse of a very wide-eyed and open-mouthed Brother Stephen, who apparently had no response to her outburst. Tansy probably would have felt more satisfaction if she didn't feel so afraid of the man or their surroundings.

When safely in the shadows of the tree line, Tansy rouly shoved her companion behind a sheltering tree. "Before you even ask," she snapped at Thomas, "I didn't mean it. You're not getting lucky in these creepy woods."

In her mind Tansy knew he was probably more sensible than to even think she was serious. But her annoyance with Thomas' lack of response to Stephen crept through. Avoiding Thomas' questioning gaze, she turned her eyes to the clearing from where they came.

The priest was turning to go in the opposite direction, back toward the castle like he had said, probably. Tansy waited until he was just our of sight before stepping out of her shoes again.

This time she scooped up her sandals in one hand and started after the stranger with a sharp "Come on!" to Thomas. The taste of blood and earth flooded her mouth once again, but when she reached the place where Stephen had been standing, new sensations manifested. Dust. Age. Leather. Ancient tastes that reminded her of her grandfather's den back in California. A fresh trail she could easily follow.

"The priest knows something," Tansy hissed into the darkness. "Let's go find out what it is."

[Ad Infinitum]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 6:00AM
LOCATION: Carpathian montane forest, a couple miles from Bran Castle, Romania



“–You are standing in the spot where these bodies surrounded him, and it may well have been that their bodies and bones fed the soil that gave rise to this same forest six centuries later. A forest of the slain... of the damned…”

The hound gave the priest a black look from beyond the fogged timberline.

That flowery speech had touched him as some fear mongering segue for persuasion. Howbeit cheap, it didn’t prove sinister intent more or less than cloying Good Samaritanism. Any wilderness could turn dangerous, and Brother Stephen's motives could have been as simple as that -- however, that only raised further questions about what had driven a lone priest into the wood at this hour. Any rational person would have waited until full sun with a few tag-along escorts for something as dubious as what ‘may lie hidden’ –

– not ‘may,’ Gihst objected inwardly. Perhaps that ‘Good Samaritanism’ was a clever gimmick to gently shepherd away the competition. He looked away…

…something had shivered across the timberline and he gave it a guarded second glance. The murky distance focused.

He saw human figures, black within black, worming in the shadows, blooming and dispersing like ink blotted into water. His heart knocked hard enough to wrench his shoulders and he snatched that sudden fear, just as a whip snare strangles a rat. He reasoned it was nothing more than insomnia playing hell with him, and he looked out to the group standing in the copse.

“The blood has never left this land,” the priest continued, unshaken. Then as though on cue, a balmy wind brought the smothering scent of stale blood.

Tansy was like a spooked deer out in an open field, frozen in terror. Her frightened blue eyes blindly coasted past him in the dark – – as blue and frightened as Marian’s eyes had been; he remembered her waking him from a dead sleep, her small voice whispering, ‘there’s a monster aetside kin y’make me see th’ocean again?’

The image drifted away, circled, formed again, and then came close enough for him to snatch it with a fierce pulse of anger: son’ova’bitch, Gihst thought. It was a hallucination.

The moment his pale grey eyes fixed on Brother Stephen, Gihst knew him.

Some bickering started. “– you must be strong and not let the spirits of this place drive you from the righteous path. They seek to keep you here, do you not see? They have collected bodies, blood!”

Gihst paused there, gathering the drifting words of the priest together into his thoughts.

‘– it is our holy duty to go forth into the world as we know it and uncover these truths, wherever they may lie hidden...or buried…’
‘You are standing in what has traditionally been accepted as the region where the ruler of Bran Castle had his feast among the spiked and tortured –‘
‘The blood has never left this land –‘ all this Brother Stephen had said.

Then he recalled himself in the cavern saying, ‘perhaps auld Vlad hid more than his hobbies daewn ‘ere –.‘ The cave, where the blood of thousands drained to sour the ground.

Gihst looked out again when he heard Tansy; he was forced to strain somewhat to catch her words: "the priest knows something, let's go find out what it is." Good girl, perhaps she could leech the holy man for more information. He watched them long enough to see them cross the copse, and then he trotted away into the woods. This wouldn’t take long, he promised, his nose tracking the long spoor trail of ancient blood…
_______________________________________________


TIME: 6:30AM



The black hound hesitated and stepped back when the flecked shale beneath his feet slid too easily. He stood above a massive sinkhole a small distance away from the cavern sink, and from inside this wound in the earth, the overpowering coppery musk of stale blood permeated a cold, whistling draft. There had to be more entrances, possibly even bypassing the FBI agents that could still be waiting inside. In caverns like these, it was not always from ‘point A to point B.’ He stalled a moment before skulking away around the mouth of the pit.

Once he had nearly made it half of the way around the circumference, he came to a sudden, dead stop; heavy in his nose was the smell of death. The carcass of some skewed animal laid tangled in the brambles hugging the sinkhole, the cords of its innards strewn out in a deep, gouging drag mark, pooled thick with blackened blood. That stink, –

– like decay, from down the hall. One of the Braeburn brothers, Isaac, in the hunting room, chopping with the cleaver – cannot see what’s on the table through the crack in the door, but the blood wasn’t rotten. Isaac looks up, notices him. For a steep second the look seems to hum, pierce through. A pause, then Isaac brings a cigarette to that wild, tobacco smile. Blood on his hand, blood on the filter, Isaac saying, ‘ay-up, Murphy…’

He stood still, breathing the foul air. On the ground, blowflies bounced and sputtered around a footprint smeared in the bloody slough, five claws as thin and bowed as a fingernail moon. There was a sudden wooden snap and he turned a rolling eye over his withers –

– mucus yellow teeth, small and hateful eyes, a splintering roar, fearless on its breath of the grave, ruptured into his vision. Terror arced through him, arced through the slowed cogs of time that froze, bucked, spun full steam as the terrible head struck to the length of a fat neck. He dipped at the withers, snarling head swinging away on the arc of his neck, pitching sidelong, body pinioning on his hind legs, like a dancer insane, as the teeth screamed past with a disgustingly wet snap. The terrifying, whiplashing blur slowed to normalcy as a disturbingly manlike, guttural bark vomited from Gihst’s bared jaws, “–fuck,” his teeth snicking around the foreign sounds to the canine throat.

It was a goddamned bear, he realized, his consciousness reemerging and gathering. Even now, the Braeburns could shine their bastard smiles.

A freight train of rippling hide, fat, muscle, and heavy jowls heaved sidelong as momentum sent the bear skidding, its plump side knocking through a dead patch of timber with a violent crack, a groan thundering from its driveling maw as it swung around a massive paw.

Five gristly talons, whooshing in a flat arc, cut through the air with all the grace and sympathy of meat hooks. He dove beneath, weaved into hard rein away, hurtling into the shattered timber. Gihst skidded sideways, doubled back with his weight, and checked a shoulder against a snag sapling as the bear wheeled its sluggish bulk. Dry wood squeaked. Roots groaned. The thin stump, angled like a ragged pike, swung toward the beast. Raw strength and dim-witted fury drove splintered wood into meat, skipping over bone and skidding along the shoulder blade, and the bear tossed a gurgled scream. It tore away, backpedaling toward the mouth of the sinkhole, the twanging pike clotted with pulverized flesh and hair. It backpedaled too far; Gihst only had a steep second to glance at his feet, understand what that small clinking noise was, and dart away.

Almost immediately that clinking grew to a crackling roar, like ceramic shingles tumbling off a steep rooftop. Then a moment later, the bear disappeared down into the sinkhole, swept away upon an avalanche of flecked shale…

[~N~]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 6:00 AM - 7:00 AM
LOCATION: in a clearing, within a copse of forest, a couple miles from Bran Castle, Romania ---> the town below the castle

The feeling of a presence--of a number of presences--was not lost on Brother Stephen. The woman was perhaps as good a liar as he was, and too damn forthright for her own good. Brother Stephen narrowed his eyes instinctively when she savaged him with her barbed words, but it would matter little.

The Stone was here--of that he was sure. He could feel it in the air...

Dracul called from the grave. His victims... caused the trees to shudder. Trees that fed on blood instead of rain. A forest of wickedness and sin, but the Church

would


have




its






prize.

Was there truly a safer place for the stone to be? Better his hands than some secular agency that would squander or waste the Stone's power.

The relic belonged with those who understood the value of mystical objects. It belonged to a man who could see the seriousness, the import of its true nature, and o'ermaster it with a will that was backed by the divine sanctity of the Vatican and God Himself.

Yes.

With him the Bloodstone would be safe... the world would be safe. It must be preserved, blessed, kept safe, kept hidden. Capturing such an artifact would grant Brother Stephen the lasting power with the Church that he always desired.

As these thoughts filled his mind, he found his gaze locked inexorably on the stark silhouette of the Castle itself and he swallowed. His throat was draw. A shudder shook his entire frame violently. The forces that he contended with here were not agreeable to control. The very essence of this place defied those who would sought to claim it for their own.

He would have to be strong enough.

Breaking his gaze, he looked upon the ground. "Where are you," he muttered. Somewhere in the darkness. He felt it was already around him, for this stone would demand his own groping through the darkness to seize it.

Another gust howled through the hissing trees suddenly, and looking up, Brother Stephen caught sight of clouds rapidly rolling in over the hills. His footsteps carried him deep into the forest once more as he cinched his robes about him to keep them whipping wildly in the wind. It would a forty-five minute trek back to the town, and he needed something to restore his thoughts and senses so that he could focus on the day ahead.

************************************************** ***************

Petra's Cafe opened at 6:30, so there were about a dozen customers already seated, sipping coffee and reading their various phones and tablets. Unbeknownst to them and the local press, Interpol had not seen fit to grace the gadflies of Romania's news network with their recent exploits in official terms, so the incident that took place at Bran Castle went largely unacknowledged by all save a few employees who...

"What?!" an older gentleman with graying hair exclaimed in his native language.

"What is it, Gabriel?" said another, sitting down across from him at one of those little circular tables that typically were accompanied in quaint cafe fashion by two chairs.

"Somebody tried breakin' into the Castle this morning!"

This conversation was not lost on the rest of the comers and goers, as more than a few heads swiveled in Gabriel's direction, including that of a Catholic priest who had just made his way in to order some coffee and pastry.

"Damned kids," the other thick mustachioed gentleman blurted out, in true cliched fashion, as though he owned the stock character of bad sitcom writing without shame.

"Wasn't kids, Emil!" Gabe informed him.

"What? Someone else? Fuckin' tourists?"

"Maybe. My guy on the inside isn't saying. Says they looked official. And American."

"Americans?! What do they want with our castle? Goddamn Americans always in everyone else's business. Do you know that my brother told me that just last month..."

Gabriel cut his elderly friend off. "Says they were agency men."

"What is it... CIA? You think?"

Gabriel laughed.

"Spying on the castle?!"

The other man joined in the laughter. "Lotta secrets they'll find there!"

"God, but seriously? They pilfering our tourist attractions now?"

"Lord knows, but apparently they were doing it last night. The historical commission guys are still going through it to make sure nothing's been taken."

"Wonder what they were lookin' for? Damn Americans. Who do they think they are, anyway? What gives them the right?!"

"Dunno, Emil, but it surely can't be state secrets in Bran Castle. Good lord knows everything you can find there is in about twenty gift shops down the street..."

Brother Stephen listened to the two older men prattle on, keeping an eye on the rest of the patrons of the bar while he casually sipped his coffee. He pulled out the tome he had carried with him and turned the aged pages to the scripted lines he glanced at before.

They alluded to the "hand of Dracul" extending from the Castle itself. But it was obvious that the "hand" was not the village. It was something else... underground...

And there was the matter of the Spear...

Darkness...

Night raids. Dracul was infamous because he marched his armies against the Turks at night, in the darkness...

He struck in the dark, which was unheard of in military tactics, like so much of what he did. Victory at any cost.

But where then would the Bloodstone be...

The appearance of three men entering the cafe disturbed his reverie.

They clearly were not from around here.

[Rook]

Date: August 20th, 2042
Time: 9:45 PM
Location: Peruvian Rainforest: Cavern Entrance.


Not two minutes from the time it took for the fire to reach the sky though the canopy, did the beating of immense wings echo throughout the silent jungle alcove. Lance took a step back from the large hole in the canopy and Nicolai, fortunately accompanied by Stephanie, dropped gently to the ground before him.

Stephanie climbed down off his back, and with effort attempted to regain her land legs, mildly shaken by the large burst of fire that lit the night sky only moments before. Lance gave her a little smirk as she stumbled over herself, but said smirk soon faded into a polite smile.

“Welcome back. Any problems on the way over? Ferret people raining bullets on you and wrecking the rest of this victorious, if not a little harrowing evening for instance?” He asked, feeling a nessesity in taking one more shot at Ben. Stephanie, rather concerned, shook her head.

“No… I haven’t seen Ben since the cave in. Do you think he’s ok?” she asked, worry painting her expression. At this Guiliana's forehead wrinkled a little bit, an irritated look taking her face.

"Forgive me if I wouldn't be too concerned if he weren't. But I think the furry bastard will be fine."

"With any luck on his part anyway... He's lost a bit of blood, but he should be fine.” Lance reassured, feigning any form of concern for the hopefully dead lycanthrope. Ben could have been a fine ally, but at this point, he also could have been more trouble than he’s worth.

"Good..." Stephanie said with a slight nod, looking relieved that they felt that he survived. With that out of the way, Lance decided that wasting time in the jungle wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Especially not closer to his next goal.

Well then. On to business. Stephanie, why'd you run before?" He asked, once more perfectly feigning that deep concern. He’d always been a fantastic liar. But he even surprised himself at how good he’d gotten as of late. Stephanie simply bit her lower lip and stared at the ground.

"I was scared.. you were pointing a gun at Ben and fire at me.. The ceiling was falling in... I’m sorry.” At this Lance shook his head.

"Yeah, and I am sorry about that. Evalon, whom as I understand it must be some fragmented bit of your psyche was... Well, honestly, trying to kill us all, so I just decided that an ultimatum would be the best option. I didn't actually intend to hurt you. C'mon, if I was just going to kill you anyway, why would I have helped you hide?" He said, as she looked up to make eye contact with him. Was he always that tall? Guiliana simply sighed

"I know that this whole thing is frightening. And after what you went through at the hospital, I'm sure this is not helping. But the truth is, the people who put you there before will come, and find us if we do not work together."

"Well...uh... you're probably right." Stephanie responded, stammering. With that out of the way, Guiliana went straight through to the next point.

"So, about Evalon... Any particular reason she wants to take control?"

"I don't know ... and I don't want to ask her."

"Isn't it obvious?" Lance interjected, seeing the perfect segue, and taking the opportunity.

"Because... She's evil?"

"Right. That. But there is more to it than that" Guiliana noted, which caught Stephanie’s attention.

"Hm?"

"Well, any one of us could probably be considered ‘evil’.” She responded, uncaring look on her face regarding her own self-accusation.

"Control is power, and power is what we all want. Does that alone make us evil? Of course not. Which is why I've asked you two back." He said, glancing to Stephanie and Nicolai. "Stephanie, I'm not sure if you wanted the stone to begin with, but Evalon clearly did... And if we all wanted the rock, we all clearly want the power. And what's power if you only keep it to yourself? Worthless. Lets face it. We all held the stone. Did you feel how strong you got?"

"Yes… The power was very... Inviting"

“What I'm suggesting is... There's four of us here... And there's more than enough of these motherfuckers to go around,” he said drawing up the stone, and glancing over to Nicolai. "Yeah... Sorry about that. I didn't know if I could trust you." He said, blowing off the fact that he’d just made his ruse perfectly obvious, and then continued. "Do you all believe in destiny?"

"Not really sure what that means, but it sounds ... cool" Stephanie said, eliciting a slight grin from Lance, before Guiliana spoke.

"Whether I do or not... I believe in potential. And this, we have." She added, and Lance nodded to her.

"Well, whatever you believe, I can tell you this... When I hold this rock... It feels like I was meant to hold this rock. Stephanie... The people that held you captive in that hellish hospital... Do you hate them for it?" It wasn’t as tactful as he was used to, but it got the job done.

Stephanie didn’t speak, but with a bit of fear in her eyes, she nodded.

"And when you were in there... You felt helpless, right?"

Again, no words, but she nodded once more,

"But now things are different... You have two things now that you didn't when they locked you up... And what are those two things?" He asked, knowing full well, she already knew the answer.

"That stone and... You three?" She said, motioning to Nicolai, Lance and Guiliana

"Very good... Allies and Power... And when someone torments you when your powerless, you can’t do anything. But now you're not at their mercy anymore. So what do you want to do with that power...?"

"Take them down?" she said nervously, shifting glances between them.

"There you go... So we crush them. But then you have a ton of power, and nothing to do with it... I'll cut to the chase Stephanie... How much do you know about the hospital? Layout and things like that?""

"Well, not much of the main part, but the special wards ... quite a bit. They tend to ignore you when you don't do anything"

"The others, in there...are they ...." Guiliana asked. It was vague but obvious enough.

"The same, but more ... Broken"

"And that... Is where you two come in." he said with a smirk. "So, you both drink blood, move incredibly fast, and shape shift? How far do those abilities go? Are you capable of any of the other abilities your legendary counterparts have access to?"

"Not that I know of... I can sometimes make things happen like ... like that cave in .. i think"

"It's limited, somewhat...But with that, who knows, right?" She glanced to the rock, as Lance shifted it through his fingers.

"What I'm asking specifically and I'll direct this more so at you Guiliana, because I've already seen you do something similar... Can you tamper with people’s minds? Specifically emotions? Something like hypnotism, or maybe charm, like they always attribute to vampires." Guiliana's lips twitched momentarily at the bold notation of her abilites.

"I can charm someone, sure...But if they figure out I'm doing it...the game's off. Also, it depends on the person, obviously." Lance nodded to her, and then Stephanie spoke up.

"I can make people see what isn't there .... I think" He took a moment to let that seep in, and he was almost sure they could see the gears turning behind his eyes.

"Have you ever tried to hypnotize someone into your control?"

"No..."

"Guiliana?"

"Temporarily... I've encouraged someone to do something... What are you asking?"

"And lets Hypothesize... If you had the rock... Based on your strength increase, how long would you guess you could hold that control?"

"If they're in my presence...as long as necessary. If they're not, it will depend on the subject's will power."

"Mental Hospital Patients with broken minds? Hopefully it won’t be too hard... So with that in mind... Would you be willing to try helping us maintain a bit of man power?" he asked, finally revealing the first step of his plan. "With how many of them there must be? We could have a small army gathered and THAT would make taking the stones a lot easier."

"As long as they don't get hurt ..."

"Lance...They didn't get gathered up there accidentally. There is a reason why they, and we, are all on the island. If we start something at that hospital, we're going to attract a lot of a attention. I'm all for breaking them out, but perhaps use it as a distraction, not as ammunition."

"Of course not... But most of us? We got gathered up as children... When they could handle us. Now, a couple of decades later, we have them outmatched." He said gathering fire into his hands and launching it into the cave. "Think about it, their flamethrowers eventually run out of juice. I'm connected straight to the pit. Do I think we can resist the entire military? No. And yes... You may be right, they'd might make a better distraction. But if we just keep the most able bodied, least psychologically damaged, and those with a vendetta around, they could be easy to manage tools." he commented, reworking the plan a bit from Guiliana’s input.

"They aren’t just tools, they are people." Stephanie not so much said, but surprisingly, demanded. Lance quirked an eyebrow, no small bit impressed. Guiliana spoke first.

"I know, Steph. I agree. But perhaps they can be allies, and strategic resources." She turned towards Lance. "We do have advantages. But I think it would be a mistake to underestimate them. I don't know who is running that place, but they have connections. And I'm sure that we're not the only ones looking for the stones, either."

"Look, I'm not saying we shouldn't be careful. And I'm not saying I want to simply use them. We should definitely keep our guard up if we do this... And as for the people? They're going to get just as much out of this as I intend for us to." he said, pausing, then glanced to Nicolai. "Hey, you've been quiet Nic, something to add?"

Nicolai simply shook his head, his arms crossed across his chest. He was ready to get out of this dismal place and search for the other relics. He had listened to them talk, standing only a few inches away from Stephanie. All that was said had been valuable information, and caused Nicolai’s mind to process what he was hearing. The word vampire came up more than once and Nicolai’s eyebrows had lifted slightly in a tad bit of surprise, though not much. The events over the past couple of days had abruptly introduced him to the supernatural. Things he once thought were fiction were now fact and were being displayed right before his very eyes.

“We should get out of here; no doubt anyone we left in the cave will be scouring this place soon. Unless you all are up for a battle of some sort we should probably go!” Nicolai said, his voice laced with a bit of assertiveness, though he knew he wasn’t in charge.

He checked his wound and sighed. It was healing, and that was good, but the one responsible for his wound was standing right in front of him. He had to play it cool, there would be time soon enough for him to put his plan into action. For now he’d be the trusted henchmen, the “right hand” man so to speak.

“Nic’s right.” Lance said abruptly. We have a damn long walk ahead of us. We should try and cover some ground. We stop at the where we came into the cave in the first place, and camp there until morning. Then catch a ride on the first bus back, because a three hour drive can be up to a twenty hour walk, and I’m not too confidant in any of our wilderness navigation skills.” He said drawing fire around his hand one last time, and sustaining it, sure now that he was getting the hang of his new trick. Now with an endless torch, he because to push on through the brush.

[~N~]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 7:00 AM - 7:30 AM
LOCATION: Petra's Cafe

Hair dyed, sunglasses on, and fake mustaches applied, the federal agents strolled into Petra's Cafe at seven in the morning. Even those humorless souls who worked for the FBI needed to eat now and again. Standing in line, Director Gerald Brassier directed Agent Garrus and Sandler to grab a table, preferably out of the sun. Brassier's eyes behind his mustache betrayed the mileage of this operation, the hassle of dealing with foreign authorities, and a general lack of sleep.

"Three coffees. One black, the other two with cream and sugar. I'll take some bagels too," he muttered in English. The one cafe attendant obviously didn't speak it, but the other's eyes lit up and she nodded that she understood and repeated the order to her coworker who took on an expression of understanding before telling him how much it would be. He pulled out his AmEx card.

"We'll bring your coffee and bagels to you," the other worker said in broken English. Brassier nodded and went to join his companions at a round table near a couple of old men who were just starting to have a conversation.

"Somebody tried breakin' into the Castle this morning!" one of them said in a raised, quavering tone of voice because he was too deaf to hear how loudly he was speaking.

"Fuck," Brassier muttered under his breath as he sat down, facing away from the old men.

"Guess they know what's up," Sandler suggested with that kind of obvious unhelpful spark of observation people sometimes have.

"Guess that's why he made us play dress up in this shit," Garrus replied in a sarcastic tone of voice, nodding towards Brassier, "Right, boss?"

Director Brassier just breathed in deep, took his sunglasses off and put his face into his hands, choosing not to even dignify the banter between his two agent companions or the old men behind him with comment. He was exhausted and was quickly running out of patience for the whole affair.

"We know they're here," he said through muffled hands, slowly rubbing his eyes.

"Yep," Garrus replied. "Yes, we do," Sandler agreed.

"We got that part right. She's here," Brassier repeated into his hands. "She's here, and whoever else is here, is here with her. And they killed TJ Hunt."

"Yep," both agents replied.

"So we've got just cause to be here," Brasser intoned, his voice muffled.

"Yep," Garrus agreed for a third time, "I'd say you've nailed that down, boss. Here comes the coffee."

The waitress brought over the three coffees and bagels of various types. Brassier didn't specify so she just picked three off the bins; an onion, a plain, and a poppyseed. Brassier grabbed the onion with cream cheese and left his two partners to fight over the other two. He couldn't really enjoy the food, but the strong, undeniable tastes of the black coffee and onion were enough to register even through the fog of fatigue and stress he felt lying upon him like a lead cloak.

"We're going to have to improvise with the way we deal with them."

The other two agents had each taken a bite of bagel and promptly stop chewing. And then resumed chewing slower. The realization set in: they wouldn't have the advantage of flamethrowers this time.

"Shit," Garrus muttered through the half-chewed bagel in his mouth.

"Yeah," Brassier replied.

"How are gonna get them out with those fuckin' Euro bastards all over us?" Sandler asked through his own mouthful.

"You leave them to me," Brassier growled.

"Yeah, cause that worked out real well last time," Garrus muttered.

Brassier's eyes flashed towards him.

"What'd you say?"

"Nothing boss."

"I'll deal with them. I sure as hell am not going to let them take Tansy and whoever she's with away after we've come all this way. I'll make one call and they'll back off," the Director grumbled.

"What makes you think she's with anyone?" Sandler asked without thinking.

"Oh, you think she just killed Hunt all by herself?"

"Um... well... I mean... you know..."

"Know what? She's not human? I don't care what else she is. I know what she's not. If she was truly dangerous, she wouldn't have fled from the hospital. She would've been much more confrontational."

"Didn't she kill that guy?"

"Even if she did, he was a patient. She fled. She's a coward. She won't be a threat once we catch her."

"Yeah, but we still don't know what her other half is, boss," Garrus added.

"Again, what I know is what it isn't. I've not seen it yet but whatever it is, it let her get away. Not too many menacing things can do that. No, I'm banking on the evidence. The evidence says we can handle her. I just don't know who's with her..."

"Wonder what they were lookin' for? Damn Americans. Who do they think they are, anyway? What gives them the right?!"

"Dunno, Emil, but it surely can't be state secrets in Bran Castle. Good lord knows everything you can find there is in about twenty gift shops down the street..."

Brassier heard this in the conversation between the two octogenarians behind him and turned, wanting to grab them both and put their wrinkled old mustached covered faces through the table.

Instead his eyes shifted to the priest who was staring right at him.

Their eyes locked.

Brassier looked away just as Brother Stephen looked down at the paper on his table.

"We can't stay here. Even looking like this, we're going to stick out like a sore thumb around these fuckin' people."

"What's your plan for getting back into the Castle?" Sandler asked.

"Well, it's a damn 'tourist trap' right? I say we go in with the first busload of tourists!" Brassier said with a lighter tone to his voice and a shrug. Putting his sunglasses back on, he leaned in to his two comrades.

"Keep your eyes open for her. If we see her, we grab her. But I'm betting the house she's coming back to that damned Castle..."

"What makes you think that, boss?" Garrus asked.

"Because she came out here for a reason. You don't just fly to Romania. She's got no family here--I checked. She's here for something else."

"What if she already got it?" Sandler asked between mouthfuls.

"If she did, she's crossing the border and we get her there," Brassier replied in a hushed voice. "But something went wrong. Hunt's the evidence. Something went wrong. She's coming back. And when she does, we'll be waiting."

[Anne Bonny]

(Prophet wrote some, and BD helped with ideas!)

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 6:40am
LOCATION: Town in the shadow of Bran Castle

"No. No, no, no!"

Tansy stomped her bare foot on ground where the soft, fertile forest floor had turned into more of a dusty pathway. Dawn had come through grey clouds, and the now unnecessary lights from the town had dimmed. But still, the shapes of houses and shops grew larger and more defined in the morning light.

There was no doubt about it - the priest went back into town.

"Its daylight and he's going back into town!" Throwing up her hands in exasperation, Tansy whirled to face her companion. "Back into the sunlight and the people and... and the FBI agents and..."

Tansy's voice caught in her throat as she turned back to stare mournfully at the buildings ahead. This was not how things were supposed to go. She had expected to find the Stone in the castle. It was supposed to come to her easily, or she was supposed to be able to use people to get it for her. But TJ had turned out to be less than cooperative. There was the mysterious and cotton-mouthed Gihst who hadn't caught right up with them as he should have. There was the nosy and fucking creepy priest who had scared her half out of her mind. And there was the little fact that she had helped to actually kill a person.

She shook her head. This wasn't supposed to be so difficult.

"What are we going to do?" Tansy asked, her voice barely above a moan.

Thomas found himself faintly amused by is companions vehemence. Not that he did anything to reveal that fact of course. Any man with half a brain learned early on that smiling or even laughing when a girl was throwing a fit and losing her mind at least temporarily was a sure fire way to wind up in trouble. He wasn't certain really what she expected of this whole situation. The large castle, the murder of TJ, the FBI hot on their trails.

I should have thrown that damn phone in the river...

Not his brightest move leading them directly to the castle but that couldn't be helped. Besides they were already gone from there and it didn't mater how much they searched they would not find them or Ghist. Thinking of hat one, of course, only raised the question as to where the hell he was since he had not caught up to them as previously expected. Perhaps he had run into trouble. More than likely he was still seeking the stone without them so as to take it for himself.

"Relax, Tansy." Thomas murmured once she finally directed one of her comments to him rather than the air. He took her hand, gave it a gentle squeeze to reassure. She was a manipulative woman, of that he was certain. She had showed that with TJ. The man had come along so easily with her desires despite feeling that it might not be right. Thomas had fallen for that same trick before when he got apprehended. Even now he was not certain the way she was acting now was not some manner of act to inspire something within him. He needed to be careful.

"Look we are not in America and the FBI hasn't released any pictures of us as wanted fugitives. To everyone in that town we are simply tourists and they will take as little notice of us as they do any other American who passes through their town."

He urged her along with him with a gentle tug of her hand, moving ever closer to the town where they could get a hot meal and hopefully a shower. Course they could not use credit cards. He would need to find some way to obtain money. He could steal it of course... after murder thievery didn't really seem all that grave of an offense.

"How much cash do you have on you?" he asked suddenly as they reached the outskirts of the town and started passing through streets lined with quaint little homes. "We'll have to keep a low profile for a while."

"I don't know. A few bucks. Or pesos or rupees or whatever the hell they're called out here," Tansy snapped. Thomas' words had done little to reassure her. How did he know the FBI hadn't put pictures of them around? Or that they weren't following them the entire time?

She took a quick glance over her shoulder out of reflex, but there was no one to be seen. It was probably still too early for most people to be out, she reasoned. The only movement she saw were a few shadows inside the windows. Probably just waking up, taking a shower, making breakfast...

Suddenly the gnawing in her own stomach became more apparent. "I'm starving," Tansy whined. "I would give anything for an ice cream sundae right now. With caramel sauce!"

But it wasn't like they could just walk into a 31 Flavors and order some ice cream. Thomas brought up the lack of money, and she was worried about being recognized. Plus, they had all the signs of spending an entire night in a cave. Her knees were covered in black dust, her clothes smudged and wrinkled, her feet had mud and grass stains from walking barefoot through the forest, her hair tangled despite her many attempts to comb her fingers through it. "Maybe we should have just gone with that creepy priest instead of following him. Maybe he would have bought us breakfast."

"Or he would have had us for breakfast." Thomas answered with a faint smile. "Who knows what that guy intended. I don't really find it all that easy to trust priests. Especially those walking alone through the wild outside the city so near a castle we just left."

They passed a kitchen window and the smell of freshly cooked food set Thomas's stomach to rumbling. While in FBI custody they hadn't made any effort to make him comfortable. That included feeding him anything other then basic slop that most dogs would not even eat. Yet if they came in as they were now looking like they just crawled out from under a rock and no doubt smelling like it too they would leave too much of an impression to be easily forgotten and the FBI could track them more easily. Beside that they needed money...

Looking ahead of the street he spotted a street vendor with several people standing around him listening to his excited description of whatever fantastic items he had for sale. One man in particular caught his eye. Dark hair, a long black overcoat. "Wait here a moment..." he murmured to Tansy before slipping a little ahead toward the man. He strode up to the group, trying to look interested as he stood near the guy. The man was so engrossed in the merchants presentation he did not even look his way. Finding the large pocket on the side of the coat was a simple thing and Thomas nearly shouted in excitement when he felt the wallet within. He withdrew it carefully slowly, and slipped away before anything could be said.

"Alright lets find a hotel." he declared once he had returned to the lovely Tansy with wallet held discreetly in hand. He felt bad for taking the guys money but it was necessary. Survival and all that.

The sour expression left Tansy's face and was replaced by a mischievous grin. "And here I thought you were a nice guy, Thomas," she said as she took his arm. "Don't worry. I like bad boys even more.

"But can we do breakfast first? I'm so hungry I don't know if I can even make it to a hotel!"

Thomas relented, and Tansy cheerfully took his arm. The promise of a forthcoming meal was enough to help the girl forget her grumbling, at least for the time being. Her mind still wandered to their troubles - the still absent ally Gihst, the robed priest who spoke of ancient blood, the FBI agents who had followed her to the castle...

"They might still be following us, you know," Tansy suddenly said out loud. "The Federal Agents, I mean. You saw the one actually in the castle last night. How do we know they're not right behind us?"

With a sudden shiver, she glanced over her shoulder again. They needed some new clothes and a shower. Something to make them look less dirty, less out of place... more like the locals. But a quick peek inside the wallet revealed that there was less than a bundle of cash. There were a couple of credit cards, but using them for a shopping spree might gain them the kind of attention they were trying to avoid.

Tansy bit her lower lip and glanced around. They needed food, lodging and a disguise, and only probably had enough to pay for one or two of those things. Pick-pocketing wasn't going to be their only crime this morning, it seemed.

"There!" she suddenly whispered. "Look, that'll be perfect!"

A backyard with browning bushes and a low fence revealed a clothes line, with what looked to be men's and women's clothes alike. Thomas and Tansy exchanged glances. It all seemed too easy. They watched the house for several long seconds, but no sound or movement came from within. At Tansy's urging, the doctor soon found himself up and over the fence, then quickly darting back with a few items of clothing in his arms.

They traveled another block before ducking into an alley and taking inventory of their prize. Tansy pulled out what seemed to be a blouse and trousers, but frowned at them quickly. They were much too big. And even more importantly, much too ugly.

"I think we did this woman a favor in stealing these," she muttered as she held up the shirt. "No one should ever be seen wearing something like this. The only thing in this bundle that I could even make stay on my body is this sweater. And I wouldn't even buy that if it was on sale! I should have known. Who even dries their laundry that way anymore?"

She tossed the clothes on the ground and ignored the look her companion was shooting her. Tansy wasn't thrilled with the idea of giving up any of her personal secrets, but desperate times called for desperate measures. And she desperately didn't want to wear any of those hideous rags.

"Have you heard of flash coloring, Thomas?" Tansy asked as she ran her fingers through her sunny hair. "There are some bugs that do it, like in South America and stuff. A butterfly will open its wings to reveal the most gorgeous colors. Bright and beautiful. Blues and yellows and all sorts of colors."

She shook her head and closed her eyes, feeling a bit excited and nervous all at once. Like the feeling you get when you're about to get on a roller coaster. It happened every time she changed.

"But when a bird or another predator comes around, the butterfly lands and closes its wings. The colors on the underside match the ground and the bug just... kinda..."

Tansy darkened, as if suddenly covered by the shadow of a cloud that passed in front of the sun. The shade couldn't have lasted more than a second or two, but when it passed her hair stayed dark. The long blond tresses had turned into dark chocolate, nearly black waves. And when Tansy opened her eyes again to smile at Thomas, her iris' had changed to a coppery brown.

"...kinda fades into the scenery," she finished with a laugh at his expression. "Just a trick of the light, really. You know how we girls like to play with new styles, right?"

She snatched up the ugly sweater and threw it over her shoulders, pausing for a moment to size up her companion in his new clothes. "Ready?"

------

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 7:35 am
LOCATION: Just outside Petra's Cafe

"Blueberry pancakes!" Tansy exclaimed. "With whipped cream! Doesn't that sound totally perfect? I hope they have those. Or strawberry. Or even banana, though the texture gets a little mushy then, don't you think?"

From the alley until the time they found the little cafe, the girl had been prattling on about what she wanted for breakfast. When Thomas had assured her there was probably no place in Romania that served caramel sundaes this early in the day, she had danced from a simple fruit cup to a waffle loaded with syrup and everything even remotely sweet in between. Now that they were approaching the glass door to the restaurant her anticipation of a hot meal was only growing.

"And coffee. A big mug of coffee with like ten sugars! That would really hit the spot. And I was thinking t-Thomas!"

He had reached for the door to open it, but Tansy quickly slapped his hand away. Grabbing his arm, she nearly yanked the man against the wall of the building.

"Did you see who was in there?" she gasped. "It was that priest! Father... Brother Stephen, right?"

Suddenly the urgency of the night before came flooding back into her mind. Tansy groaned and for a split second, her disguise faltered with a shimmer of blond before she regained her composure. She rubbed her eyes in frustration. "How can we even think about food right now, Thomas?"

Her voice lowered to a whisper and her false golden colored eyes narrowed. "Gihst is out there, who knows where, being chased by who knows who. TJ is dead, and that Stone is still missing. No more distractions. We've got to find out what he's up to, find Gihst again, and find that thing."

A quick peek inside the cafe her no indication as to how soon the priest would be finishing his meal. It was crowded with Romanians, and she couldn't get a clear view as to whether he still had a plate in front of him. "Well he can't stay in there forever," Tansy growled.

[Ad Infinitum]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 7:35 am
LOCATION: A town below Bran Castle.

The town had a certain ‘je ne sais quoi’ of Rockwell innocence and country. Here, old houses and duplex stores huddled cozy along the beaten roadside, accentuated by the creeper vine, natural masonry, and desaturated paint, weather cracked like eggshell. Staggered chimneys peppered the morning with breakfasts of pork, cornmeal, and egg as farmers prepared for another day of soiled hands; their eldest daughters meanwhile assembled market stands brimming with early harvest produce, fresh and warmed from the sun.

There, one man snuffed a black papered cigarette before pushing a ten Bani coin across the table of an apple stand. Albeit good nutrition had given him some length of bone, he was common bred, dark-haired and swarthy with the pale grey eyes indicative to the ‘Vlach’, the ‘shepherd folk.’ Dressed plain with earth and sweat, he was nothing more than the eldest son of a farmer; and if he continued to keep his mouth shut his accent would not set him apart. Gihst was hidden in plain sight.

The Scotsman entered a narrow alleyway, meandering down to a rusty spigot that jutted askew from the shambled bricks. Then with a squeaky turn of the wheel knob, the spigot hissed, sputtered, and sulfurous well water ran clean. He washed the apple - - he remembered the stained glass windows in his hometown church, the one that depicted Genesis’ Adam and Eve. As a boy he had paid particular attention to the window as it was his first glimpse of a nude woman – Dael Robbins was the token pervert that boasted about ‘wearing that lady like a catcher’s mask’ after sermons; a crowd of little boys in their Sunday best trying to talk like men, the memory brought a faint smirk, though fleeting. Ironic that one simple apple could spoil the world.

‘You must be strong and not let the spirits of this place drive you from the righteous path - - this is why I am here...the source of this spiritual madness must stop.’ Those words continued to haunt him - - the ‘Stone could be another apple.

Since his dreams began, every dawn came with the feeling of ‘wrongness’ and a tainting of his peace. Dread, a deep rotting dread, an illness that had crawled into his heart and lingered like a leaden weight. Whether it was madness, intuition, or the whisper of God, it refused to be denied, goading him towards something, his purpose; the ‘burning bush’ that had roused him. Brother Stephen knew, however, confronting him in public seemed unwise. First, he would have to be drawn out somehow - - his eyes lifted to a familiar ‘yankee’ accent as someone crossed the opening of the intersecting alleyway down ahead.

Fynn and Tansy, he knew them by scent. A rendezvous in public seemed equally unwise.

Something tickled his neck and he brushed it away. Goddamned flies. Then the shadow leaking from the alley behind shifted - -

- - he twisted and his hand snapped fast around a small wrist. The boy froze without a scream, his large hazel eyes vulturous in a manner unnatural for a child. Then Gihst noticed the white rosary beads that connected his throat with that small, balled fist - - rosaries were often made from precious gemstone, and at a glance, those white beads could have easily been alabaster or pearl – well worth a beating. Gihst was certain his wallet would have been the next victim, followed by his cigarettes.

There was a long pause as they stared at each other, neither saying a word. “…Gypsy,” Gihst ventured, using the derogatory term that was certain to elicit a volatile reaction should he be correct; Gypsies, or their cultural name, ‘Romani’, had been the subject matter of most warnings given by native Romanians, labeling them thieves and tricksters, less than human. Unfortunate.

That word crackled in that brooding glare from those young eyes; that was a definite ‘yes.’ When the child sensed no danger, he struggled for freedom from that calloused hand.

Then the telltale metallic clatter of money subdued the child and he was released.

“…limba engleză?” He ventured further as the boy gathered the scattered silver and copper coins, polishing them with the corner of his shirt.

His accent would either prove unintelligible or ridiculous, he prayed for the second outcome.

The boy laughed with a gap-toothed smile, “– yeh’s.” Thank God, and he knew English–

“–good,” Gihst rasped, and then pointed to the coins the boy had collected. “…want tae earn double that?”
______________________________________________


“–psst, domnul,“ hissed a small voice as someone gave a meek tug to Thomas’ sleeve, and something slipped into his hand.

Then the small boy beside him grinned, fresh tears standing out in clean lines over his grime-mottled cheeks, before disappearing into the café.

Thomas had been given what looked to be a torn scrap of cardboard; on one side, ‘Djarum’ was printed in bold golden lettering, and on the other, there was a scrawled message: ‘follow our Brother and stay out of sight. We wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.’
______________________________________________


“–Preot! Preot!” A small boy cried out weakly between choking gasps when he found the table a Brother Stephen, tears and sweat dried stiff to his skin. “Father,” he began, pausing to swallow. “You must come, quick! Please Father!” He clutched his side, his features souring with a grimace. He had cramped from running, but that man had had a good idea: ‘run until you’re winded and sweating, it will help you look scared.’

Brother Stephen was disturbed by the suddenness of the boy’s antics; he had literally come out of nowhere, tugging on his arm, yammering, gesturing wildly like he was in some kind of panic. Why come to me? He thought, but sometimes, the young boys…they look to the Church for guidance. A slow smile of understanding spread over Brother Stephen’s lips and he nodded, gesturing with a lowering palm motion for the boy to settle down; he was coming, as requested.

"I will come with you. Show me what is the matter, child." He rose from his seat, gathered the materials and returned them to his satchel, approaching the entrance of the café as he meandered through the crowd.


[With some help from, N.]

[~N~]

Let's lay this trap, ladies and gentlemen... (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=axb2sHpGwHQ) hehehe...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Date: August 21st, 2042
Time: Morning
Location: Hotel Casa Del Mar

"Are you checking in sir?" the lady at the front desk cordially asked the white hair, stern faced gentleman who looked like he had seen his share of decades in the cutthroat world of business. He was sharp, polished, and wore his years like a worn cliff face.

"It's Mr. Della Romagna, Miss Espinoza," the hard-nosed man replied with a gruff voice. "Reservation for one. I'll be staying the week. You should already have it in your books."

His lack of patience was clear in his humorless dark eyes, and Miss Espinoza picked up on this right away. The glinted edge in his eyes meant that she better get her shit together now or suffer the consequences at the hands of her manager because this guy was just the type to go right to your boss's boss and get them to give you a very public reprimanding in front of everyone while handing over a full refund.

"R-right here it is, sir!" she blurted out nervously. Jesus Christ, please just let me give him his room key and get him out of here.

"Good. Where's the bell boy?"

"I'll call one over right away, Mr. Della Romagna," she promptly replied, stumbling over his name with desperation in her voice.

"Fine. Should be here already. This place has definitely fallen off since the last time I stayed here six months ago. Where's Ricardo?"

"He's away this week," she apologetically explained gathering together all the paper work and calling over the bellboy with frantic gestures that betrayed her anxiety.

"This gentleman, Mr. Della Romagna, a very important customer of ours needs his baggage taken to Room 206," she intoned in a voice that commanded the gravity of the situation.

The bellboy glanced back and forth between the old man and his coworker and nodded in understanding, gathering the old man's suitcases and articles onto the cart immediately.

"I have one question for you, Miss Espinoza," the old man indicated. The young dark haired woman glanced up at him attentively.

"Yes?"

"My daughter, Guiliana is staying here as well. Is she about?"

"I can call her room if you like! She's still checked in according to our records."

"No, no, that won't be necessary. I'll see for myself. Which room is she in?"

"Room 203, Mr. Della Romagna," she briskly replied.

"Thank you, Miss Espinoza."

"Here are your keys, Mr. Della Romagna, and I hope your stay here lives up to your satisfaction. If you need anything, simply let us know and we'll do everything we can to help make your experience as good--if not better--than it has been in the past," she said in her best, most eager professional tone.

Finally he allowed a thin smile to cross his lips as he took the keys. "I trust you will, Miss Esperanza. Take this for your trouble, and if I need anything else, I shall call you directly." He pressed two shiny quarters into her soft, trembling palm and walked off to follow the bellboy to his room.

Once he got into the room, he nodded to the bellhop after he had set everything out the way he wanted and promptly dismissed him.

His next action was to walk across the hall and check on his daughter...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Date: August 21st, 2042
Time: Morning (same time)
Location: Hotel Casa Del Mar, Room 203

Jose had gotten word last night that Ben was calling in the favor he owed him.

"Fuck," he thought. He hated going out in public. He hated giving up some of his stash even more. And he really hated that he'd be getting very little back in return.

He had persuaded one of the help, a guy who one of his buddies had just picked up as a user, to give him the keys to the hotel and a uniform for this little shill job. The hotel had cut back on staff recently, so only one guy did it on this particular day -- a fortunate circumstance indeed. The only thing about it was that Eduardo, the guy he was replacing would definitely get shit for it because Jose was not cleaning all their fuckin' rooms. Maybe he'd get fired...

Jose didn't care. He was here to drop off the stuff and leave. That was it.

But he had to look the part to make sure he didn't get caught in case anyone saw him in broad daylight (which they would).

Putting on the uniform with a sneer, he pulled the hat on and grabbed the cleaning cart, pushing it up to the second level. Some old guy and the bellboy had just gone up in the elevator ahead of him so he'd have to wait. If the bellboy saw him, it'd raise alarms because he wasn't a member of regular staff. So Jose waited.

And waited.

And waited.

"Jesus Christ, man! Come on! I don't want to be down here forever!"

Finally the elevator opened, the bell boy stepped out, turned the other way to the lobby and never saw Jose with his cart move into the sliding doors behind him.

Smooth.

The doors slid back with the familiar "ding!" and out the cart wheeled with Jose behind it. He moved slowly down the hallway, scanning the room numbers. What was it... 203? Yeah.

*knock, knock, knock*

Wait. Listen.

"Hello? Room Service!"

Wait. Listen.

Nothing.

"Coming in!"

Sliding the key into the lock, he gave a turn of the knob and pushed the room door open.

What a fuckin' mess. Sheets and covers and articles of clothing strewn about between two rooms, food left out... god. These people. They'd fit right in at a reefer hangout. He smirked and then looked for a place to stash the goods.

Rummaging around, he soon found an apt spot as his eyes fell on a bedside lamp. "Perfect," he muttered. He went over, lifted it up, and sure enough it was hollow on the inside of the vase. Smirking again, he dug into his pocket, pulled out the plastic bag with white powder in it, stashed it inside the lamp, and then carefully replaced it just as it was. One more time...

Looking around, he saw a desk. Smiling, he walked over, pulled out some tape and...

"Hello?" a gruff businesslike voice called out behind him.

Jose instinctively dropped the baggie with the stash to the floor as he jumped and spun around. FUCK! his mind cried out as he hastily stepped in front of it, concealing it with his feet and legs.

"Who are you?" the older man in a suit said as he walked in.

"Uh... uh... room service!" Jose blurted out.

"Have you seen my daughter about? God this place is a mess! What do they pay you people for?"

"I uh... I um..." Jose stammered. Who the hell was this guy?!

"Um um um uh um uh..." Mr. Della Romagna mocked him.

"Is this your room, sir?" Jose inquired, collecting himself.

"No, it's not, but you left the door open, moron," the old man snapped back. "Well don't just stand there, get this place cleaned up, will ya?!"

"We're not supposed to work while others are around, sir," Jose replied, trying to keep calm.

"Oh Jesus Christ. What's your name? I'm reporting you to management next time I go down to the lobby," the old man growled, walking purposefully up to Jose. "Eduardo? You're the laziest room service I've ever seen. Now get to work. I expect this room to be clean in thirty minutes."

The audacity of this asshole! Jose narrowed his eyes. I'd pop a cap in your ass if we were in the streets out back, old man. And then I'd cut you to pieces until you bled to death.

But they weren't in the streets out back, and Jose didn't benefit from murdering the old man right here in the room.

The old man left in a red-faced huff and Jose promptly grabbed the baggie and taped it under the desk.

"Fuck him," he muttered under his breath, grabbed the cart, and left the room without doing shit.

He took the cart and went back down the hallway and down the elevator, glad that he didn't run into the old bastard again before slipping off into the maintenance/room service room. Stripping off the uniform, he left it in a pile and escaped out a rear entrance to the Casa Del Mara.

Pulling out his cellphone, he dialed Ben, who dialed his detective friend, Detective Espinoza (no relation to the front desk lady) and told him the package was planted.

Now it was just a matter of waiting...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Date: August 21st, 2042
Time: Late Afternoon
Location: Hotel Casa Del Mar

The four weary travelers got in just after 5pm. Their feet all hurt. Nicolai would've LOVED to have used his wings but that would've caused more than a small measure of assorted other problems. No, it had to be land travel with intermittent bus rides here and there.

It had been a non-stop 48 hours for them, and they were exhausted, beat, and certainly not looking for anything out of place and suspicious.

When they shuffled back in, and up to Room 203, they found things very much as they had left them.

So much for room service... Guiliana thought. This place has really fallen off...

Like father, like daughter.

The four of them collapsed in their respective available slots, and had no sooner had a chance to relax than a heavy pounding came at the door to their room.

"POLICE! THIS IS A RAID! OPEN UP!"

They didn't wait for a response and with the keys of the hotel establishment, they broke into the room, guns drawn.

"Put your hands up. You're all under arrest," the officers, three in front, at least two more visible behind and who knew how many behind them in the hallway or surrounding the building.

"For what?!" Guiliana retorted.

"Drug possession," Detective Espinoza said with an air of cocky confidence.

[Rook]

Date: August 21st, 2042
Time: Late Afternoon
Location: Hotel Casa Del Mar; Room 203

The door nearly burst from it's hinges as the armed men pushed their way into the Hotel Room. And then the chaos began.

Stephanie flew into a fit. Horror painted her features, and she leapt from the couch, stumbling as she took cover behind the small entertainment center housing the rooms television, which was currently blasting the news. Lance, sitting silently on the couch was unsurprised. Not by the cops, that was rather shocking. But with how many it had just came in, the shots of the outside of the hotel, currently surrounded by police cars and armed men didn't shock him even a little. He reached in his pocket and pulled out his pack of smokes, along with the stone, and lit one up, muting the television.

All the while, the police trained their guns on poor little Stephanie, huddled in the corner.

“I said Don't Move!” the detective growled out. At that Lance began his ruse. He wove an illusion tightly around the stone, and slipped his pack of smokes back in his pocket. That Illusion was an exact replica of that very pack, which he then tossed to Guiliana. “Figured you might need one. So, officer. What are the grounds for this arrest?”

All the while, another illusion was woven. He stared at Stephanie, and that illusion, purely auditory, wound it's way into her inner ear. It soothingly whispered “Calm down Steph... I'm going to handle this. Just stay perfectly still, and don't say anything...” Her eyes shot to Lance, and his face, concealed from the police by the back of the couch, bared a sly grin. Her tension settled a bit, and she leaned back against the wall, empty hands in the view of the police.

Meanwhile, the detective spoke up once more.

“Drugs buddy, are you hard of hearing?”He said, turning that gun in the direction of Lance, who was at the time, deciding to keep his mouth shut as far as the fact that while that was a reason to search the place, and not a legitimate excuse to actually take them in. “You're coming with us. Hands in the air. All of you, right now. No questions. Let's Go.” He commanded. At this, Stephanie's eyes suddenly went wide again.

“Wha- Wait, what?” she squeaked, the fear returning. The detective, as stern faced as ever, glared right back at her as more cops, weapons drawn pushed into the room.

“You heard me Little Girl, on your feet. Search them.” He said, gun still trained on her. Too far. Lance was not about to let his plan go straight back to hell just because of, what he assumed was, a long rat with a vendetta. As the police began to move, he stood, arms splayed to the sides as he turned to look the detective dead in the eye.

“Alright, alright there Officer Big Man... You can put the forty five caliber compensation away. Leave the little girl alone, I'm the one you want.” he said, cocky tone of a man with a death wish coming to his voice. The look on his face screamed psychosis. It was enough to make the cops halt in place. The detective took a step forward, glaring back.

“What do you mean you're the one we want?” he growled out, dumbfounded. Lance broke into a twisted bout of muffled laughter.

“What are you hard of hearing? The shit's mine. Think about it, isn't it obvious. I'm a single man, in a hotel room with two women, one of which is under aged, and if you're going to search me, take notice of the unregistered firearm so beautifully tucked into the back of my belt. The kid ain't got shit. She's a tool for my amusement, just like the other broad. Honestly, if you asked me either of their names, I wouldn't know it. The kid ain't shit, I'm the bad guy here.” It was a ruse, plain and simple. But he couldn't lose his entire team to the god damned Peruvian D.E.A., and with his ability to lie, he was about to ensure he wouldn't. If they were going to make him out to be a bastard anyway, he may as well look like a psychotic one.

The cops simply held position, along with the detective, taken completely aback by the unexpected confession. There was a moment of complete and total, eerie silence before the detective finally spoke.

“Very well. Take him. And the others too.” he said, walking up, and standing inches from Lance's face. “I don't give a shit if you're behind everything or not, I'm taking you all in, and questioning ever one of you.” he growled, before walking up behind Lance. Lance's face twisted into a dark mockery of a sweet, serene smile.

"Fantastic Officer Gingivitis. Did you need to spit in my fucking face to get your point across?” he cooed in a soft, almost pleasant tone. And then he was on the ground, knees buckling from a sudden kick to the back of the legs.
"No, I just need your complete, cooperation" He said, slamming him to the ground with a knee in his back as he cuffed him. “Everyone else? Come quietly or you'll end up like 'The Mouth' Here.” He said.
Lance coughed spastically, the wind knocked out of him by the knee to the spine as he was pressed to the floor. His cigarette dropped to the carpet, beginning to singe.

“Oh golly gee, sorry about that, I didn't realize. Officer MMA then. Since you've already proven yourself to be such a fucking chap, you wanna pick that bad boy up before it burns a hole in the floor. Maybe you can stick it back in my mouth while you're at it.” He said, pleasant tone still held effortlessly. Detective Espinoza retorted by simply slamming his face into the floor as another officer stomped the cigarette out.

“Maybe you won't talk so much with a mouth full of carpet.” Espinoza growled. Lance struggled against his hand to turn his face just enough to the side to speak.

“Funny, that's exactly what your wife said to me last night.” He growled, tone still gentle, but smile sadistic. In a fury, Espinoza wrenched him up by the hair and slammed his face into the ground again.

All the while, three other officers moved into position around the remaining companions, and three more began to tear apart the room.

“You heard him ma'am...” one of the underlings said, locking cuffs onto Guiliana, “You gotta come with us.” She scowled.

“Yeah, I heard, you're all walking a fine line.” she sneered. The officer simply looked her over and sneered back.

“Baby, I'd walk any line for you.” He growled, predatory eyes locking back to hers. Guiliana's scowl grew.

“Great, then walk that way, before my boots start doing a little walking of their own.” She threatened, and he jerked her cruelly to the door.

Stephanie was a different story. The officer approached gently, hands up in front of him, to keep her calm. Stephanie pressed further into the corner, but while it was a sign of worry, she also used the wall to help stabilize her as she stood.

“Look, I don't want to cuff you kid, but I have to... I'll put them on gently okay? Just for a little while.” he said, softly

“O-okay, just... Please don't hurt me...” She said, looking to the rough treatment both Lance and Guiliana were being given. He glanced back at the carnage, and turned back to her.

Don't worry kid... I won't hurt you, I promise.” He said, and glanced to Espinoza. “Do I really have to cuff this one Detective?” He asked, and the detective shot him a angry look.

“Yes! I said cuff her, don't question my orders!” He snarled, as Lance, patience with his whole 'Psycho' act running thin, twisted again. He didn't make it far, but enough to speak into the floor.

"Aww, nooo dat wuhnt vur nisss" he growled into the carpet, and then went quiet. More illusions began to weave. Guiliana was first.

"When you get out, meet me at the cafe we passed near the airport and check out a room at another hotel. If I don't show up by six PM the day after you get out, Get back to Alesia with the stone. I'll find you." he said, one eye staring right at her. She didn't give him any notation that she heard it, but he was sure she had. And then that eye shifted back and his other one locked onto the now cuffed Stephanie, being pushed towards the door.

"I'm sorry... They're probably going to take you back to the hospital... Have Evalon make a scene there. Try and get out, and find Guiliana. If you can't, I'll come for you, I promise." the illusion in her ear whispered. She glanced first to him, then to Guiliana, them mumbled something to herself. He smiled, and then, glanced right to Nicolai, silent, and seemingly stunned by everything that just happened.
"You're an innocent bystander. Get out, do what you gotta do, and get to Alesia... I'll find you." his whispered, as he was silently carted to the front of the room. The officer with Stephanie moved first. He slipped his hands down from her shoulders to bring her arms together behind her back.

And as they started to go, one final message came to them, all at once. “I'm the fall guy... Everything I did... And anything else you can think of within reason and believability. I want you to literally destroy any credibility I have. Make me out to be the most horrible thing that has ever happened to any of you, and walk free. I'll be along shortly.”

"Ladies first.” He said, beginning to push her out the door.

"It's going to be alright, Steph. We'll get it sorted out!” Guiliana called after her. The officer at her side nudged her and smirked.

"Shut up sweetheart. The only thing we're going to get sorted is how you're involved in all this.” He growled out. She looked like a retort was building, but then she caught it. Stephanie shot one final glance at Guiliana as she rounded the door frame. Her eyes held a different look then they had moments before. Somehow colder.

“Okay...” She said, a light rasp, very subtle, saturating her tone. The average person, one who'd had no contact with her in the past, would assume she was just distraught. Near tears. Not Lance and Guiliana. Guiliana maintained a stone exterior, but Lance was a different story. As Espinoza pulled him too his feet, he let out a slight, cold chuckle.

The change had already taken place. He wasn't sure whether the hospital was about to have a tragedy, or if the the “Sweet Widdle Giwl's” kill count would still be zero by the time she walked out of the station, potentially soaked through with blood. Espinoza finished dragging him roughly off the ground as Guiliana was being escorted out. She finally came back with that retort.

"Officer, I'd lay off the machismo. I'm going to bet you don't know who you're dealing with..and you're very lucky we're being nice about this little unexpected get-together." she mused through gritted teeth. The cop sneered, pushing her forward.

"Lady, you're right, I don't know who the hell you are, and quite frankly, that's why we're going to down to the station... to get to know you *better*" he replies, leering at her as her grabs her roughly by the arms and pushes her towards the door, triumph in the force of his shove. She stumbled, seemingly by accident, and while righting herself, firmly planted that sharp, pointed heel right in the top of the officer's foot. He roared with pain, and the obscenities poured from his lips as he shoved her out the door.

Lance began to walk forward of his own accord but found resistance as Espinoza latched onto the cuffs, and tore him back, to let out a low growl into his ear, as he pulled the gun from the back of Lance's pants.

"Try anything and you're a dead man." the cold, low rumble of the man's voice scraped out. Lance's head turned, and his lips once more curled into that smile.

"Okay tough guy. You've asserted your dominance. Save the rest of the police brutality that you probably think isn't entirely Third World for the primitive little shack you call a prison." he said, the bite of his words just so hateful it could have inspired rage in the most peaceable monk.

Before the good Detective could respond with even more rage, that beautiful dirge of absolute damnation rang out in his ears. It sounded like “Found 'em Boss.”

"Good work. Oh boy.... you're going away for a loooong time for this," Espinoza said, smiling a smile similar to the one Lance had had on his face since they'd arrived. This made Lance's grow further.\

"Oh heavens, what will I do. Wait, I bought the shit... Can I do a line before we go? I'm jonesing." He said simply, that cocky grin eliciting the exact reaction he was hoping for. Espinoza. There was no wait, not the slightest pause. He tensed his jaw as hard as he could as a powerful right blasted him in the face. Blood dripped from his lips as he moved his jaw back and forth, working out the sting.

"See that? You keep talking and you make me do things like that that I don't want to do to you" He growled. Lance watched Nicolai go before snapping back.

"Oh Dear. God forbid I shit talk, golly gee, I might just go and fuck myself. Boy howdy, pissing off the guy who's arresting me is nearly as bad as that time I got caught in a hotel with Cocain, Illegal Firearms, and a teenage girl." he said, spitting viscous red onto the floor as another hard right caught him in the cheekbone. Black spots swam in front of his eyes as he stumbled to the right, and nearly fell before the good officer ripped the hand cuffs up, straining his shoulders, and in turn eliciting just the reaction Espinoza wanted from him.

"Got it there Chief", as it was supposed to sound came out more like a garbled "Gorradereef" as a fountain of blood poured from Lance's mouth. And then he laughed. He just looked at Espinoza and laughed.

~~~~~

Date: August 21st, 2042
Time: Late Afternoon
Location: Hotel Casa Del Mar; Lobby

Mr. Della Romagna pushed his way through the crowded lobby, intrigued and disturbed at the event in progress. And then both emotions blended into horror. For a moment, he stood frozen, watching his daughter, cuffed between a teenage girl and a muscular gentleman he'd never seen before, and trailing closely behind them was another man, face smashed, bleeding horribly.

“Guiliana!? What the hell is going on?!” he roared, absolutely shocked. Guiliana simply gritted her teeth and shook her head.

“I'll call you. Somebody paid well for this one.” she growled out, matching his tone. The old man immediately rummaged through his pocket and withdrew his phone, hitting the last speed dial button.
“Hey. Hey! That's my daughter! I'm calling Edward right now Guiliana! Don't say a damn thing to them!” He roared, even more intensely than before. Edward was an attorney, but not just any attorney. Edward was his personal attorney. A man with a literally flawless record. He'd never lost a single case, and in the old man's personal opinion, it wasn't likely he would this time either. The officers on the other hand didn't seem to care who's attorney was already in route. They simply shoved Mr. Della Romagna aside, and pulled the four into the street.

Cameras flashed on all sides, and video was being shot by all the major news stations. The first glimpse they caught was what looked to be an absolutely mortified Stephanie, frightened out of her wits. Then every camera panned left as Guiliana was pushed into the street. She simply slowed her pace, standing between the officers, using them to shield her face. And then Nicolai, who's face is one of bewilderment and concern, exactly as you might expect from someone who is completely innocent and wondering where all this will lead. And finally Lance, sporting a disturbing mixture of a bloody, manic smile and a violent offender's thousand yard stare.

Quick and efficient, the police guided them to, and loaded them into the back of a police wagon. After a moment, the noise outside slowly faded, as the truck pulled away. The was a moment of silence. Pure and absolute. And following the trend he'd set so far today, Lance couldn't have that.

“So... This vacation? What do you say, nine out of ten?”

[Koti~]

Date: August 22, 2042
Location: Police department investigation room
Time: Late Morning

Stephanie’s eyes shifted around the hallways as she was dragged off by two officers, both of them seeming a bit upset by it. Stephanie had been resisting, but one swift slap on the head got her to stop, making her fall silent and pale as she was dragged into a room with a metal hard chair, a metal table, and a single lamp.

“Why?” Stephanie spoke out loud, shaking some and gripping her hands into her own hands. The cold chair bit into her back as she tried to shrink into it, doing her best to make herself as small is possible.

“Why did you drag me here?” She finally managed to choke out into the poorly lit room, her voice breaking like a bad record. Her knees shook and she seemed ready to fall apart if a simple breeze blew past her.

"Little girls don't just end up in the same room as two stashes of crack cocaine and a three other adult accomplices, Stephanie," Detective Espinoza announced, coming into the room. "What were you doing there? We have no records of you being born in this country, which means you're from somewhere else. What were you doing in Peru, where are you from and why were you with a crack dealer, hm?"

He leaned upon the table with both palms and glowered at her with unrelenting dark eyes waiting for her answer.

“Well… I .. uh … first off.” Stephanie began to stammer, before whimpering into silence and looking down at her lap. Her mind had gone completely blank and her body twitched now and then. She eventually settled for looking into a corner of the room, trying her best to keep her breathing slow.

“I didn’t know, I was brought from an island… alekia… alebia, alesia, one of those names. They seemed like nice people… they even gave me a cinnamon roll. Iwantedtogowiththembecausetheyseemedreallynice…” She rushed out in one large breath, looking anywhere but at the detective.

“I didn’t even know that stuff was there” Stephanie said at the end in a small murmur, crossing her legs and trying to appear as small a target as she could.

"Alesia? United States Alesia?! You're American then? Where's your ID, Stephanie? You can drop the 'little girl' routine," he growled, leaning in closer. "We know you're more than you're saying. We know it. So you better tell us everything or you're going to be in here a long, LONG time!"

He slammed his right palm down so hard on the table that it shook both the table and her. "TELL ME WHAT YOU KNOW, STEPHANIE!"

Stephanie just about literally jumped out of the chair, but still ended up falling behind it. Fear clearly showed on her face as she hid behind the frail defense that the chair had to offer.

“I … I don’t know anything!” Her voice broke as she stared into the inky darkness, eyes wide and roaming freely to look for a way out. Her small frame seemed to shake with every breath she took, which were shallow and fast.

“I escaped from a hospital on there, because I was scared. Guliana and Lance helped get me off the island because I don’t wanna go back, it’s too scary there.” Stephanie let out in one ragged statement, pulling her knees into her chest and rocking back and forth. Her eyes seemed wide and yet lifeless, staring away into the dark abyss that the small light afforded the room. Tears streamed freely from her eyes now as she rocked back and forth.

“I don’t want to go back” She silently murmured to herself, hardly aware of the Detective in the room, nor the odd noises she managed to choke out during her mantra as her lips seemed to puff out near the corners.

"Boss, maybe we should..." one of the officers interjected out of the sympathy that showed through on his face.

"Enriquez, if I wanted you to tell me how to do my job, I'd clearly fucking ask you for your opinion!" Espinoza fired back. "Check on what she's saying."

The other officer glanced at Enriquez nervously and then left the room.

"A hospital, eh?" the detective turned back on Stephanie. "You some kind of mental patient Stephanie? Got put there for drug use before? I've seen your kind. In and out of institutions... living off the kindness of others, costing everyone a fucking fortune just to treat you. How many times you been caught with drugs Stephanie? How many times have they rehabilitated you? You just keep finding your way back to it, don't you? Just can't stay away," he leaned close, whispering in her ear in a mocking, sing-song voice.

"Is that why you were here Stephanie? Because Guiliana and Lance offered you the goods? Did they promise you all the coke you could snort up into that pretty little face of yours?" He grabbed her suddenly with an iron grip around the shoulder, "You better speak up, little girl..."

Stephanie seemed to freeze for a moment as the man grabbed her on the shoulder, fingers digging into her skin. Her eyes dilated as she went deathly silent, her heart almost hammering out of her chest. Reacting on instinct, she grabbed the other man’s arm and pulled it close to her, sinking her teeth into his flesh in a blur of motion.

A guttural growl rippled from her chest as she clung on, small frame shaking as the man’s blood slacked down her throat, driving warmth through her body and invigorating her once again, the weariness draining from her like water from an unplugged sink.

"ARRGHHHOOOWWWWW, you stupid little bitch!" Detective Espinoza, howled out in pain as Stephanie sank her fangs deep into his arm. He lifted her literally out of her chair and hauled her--feet dangling--over against the wall, with blood seeping down his arm. "Enriquez, GET OVER HERE!"

The other officer rushed over and did his best to pry her away from Espinoza's arm, wrenching back her head and jaw to do so, while keeping clear of her mouth.

"Jesus Christ! She bit me!" Espinoza said in astonished shock as he looked down at the puncture wound and the bloody teeth of the wriggling hostage.

At that moment the door opened and the third officer stepped in, his eyes instantly widening.

"Um.... boss?"

"Yeah?!" Espinoza painfully replied, looking at him over his shoulder.

"You might want to see this..." the officer said tentatively, holding out a few sheets of paper. "We need to get the U.S. F.B.I. on the phone I think..."

"What?!" Espinoza replied, releasing Stephanie and trudging towards him, favoring his injured arm with a grimace and a wince, and ripping the papers out of the other man's hands with his own good hand.

Stephanie gasped in pain as she was forcibly rammed against the wall, but she still held on, now so more for her life than for fear of pain. Her head was then yanked back hard, dislocating her from the man’s arm, stunting the voluptuous flow of blood through her body. Along with the dryness that now came from her throat, pain wracked through her body as well, and her eyes returned to normal with a mixture of confusion, pain, and shock as the fangs retracted into her mouth. She whimpered and squirmed against the wall before being dropped to the ground like a limp rag doll, where she curled into a ball on the floor, hiding herself.

Detective Espinoza read over the papers with a scowl, flipping to the next two sheets quickly, muttering "fuck" when he got to the third page.

Stephanie was apparently a fugitive from an FBI "special detention center" on Alesia.

Then a female coworker popped her head in the door, "Espinoza?"

"Yeah?" he said in a less than happy tone.

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed, "What happened to your arm?!"

Espinoza glanced over at the huddled mess of a girl in the corner of the cell.

"SHE did that?" the woman asked with astonishment.

"Yeah, she's a fuckin' animal."

"You should get that looked at."

"Yeah, I will, alright? What is it?"

"FBI. They're on the phone. They want to..."

"...talk to me. Christ. Yeah. I'll be right there."

He looked to Enriquez and the other officer, "Make sure she doesn't leave, and if she says anything else.... I want to know about it. I'm going to go deal with this."

He slammed the door behind him,

[RisingPhoenix]

Date: August 22, 2042
Time: Late Morning
Location: Police Department, Interrogation Room

"Get your filthy fucking hands off me," Nicolai shouted enraged that he was being led into this room against his will. He struggled against the men who had arrested him along with the others. The door at the end of the hallway was dark and only a single light illuminated it. Nicolai didn't like this at all. He took mental notes of his surroundings as they physically pushed him towards the door.

At one point during the process, Nicolai had managed to kick two of the officers in the face causing them to use force to restrain him. Eventually they managed to get to the door and open it. Nicolai had made it very difficult for them and it showed in the way they handled him. Strapping him to one of the two chairs in the middle of the interrogation room, they left him alone and went to tend to their bruises.

"Fuck!" Nicolai said softly when the door was closed and he was left alone. The single light that was affixed to the ceiling swayed back and forth for no apparent reason. There wasn't enough light to see all of his surroundings in the room. Much of the room was shrouded in darkness. Sighing, Nicolai simply relaxed a bit and waited.

Detective Espinoza came in a few moments later, looking a bit worse for wear with his bloody arm now wrapped in a bandage. Two other officers flanked him and one said, pointing, "Yeah, this is the one."

Espinoza raised his eyebrows, "Well, well, well.... aren't you a snake in the grass? You were so calm and abiding earlier, and then you broke one of the noses of my friends with that big boot of yours!" He approached Nicolai, who was still cuffed, and leaned in close.

"If you ever want to make it out of here alive, you better behave and be a good boy like you were before."

Then he stood up to his full height and said, "You can start by telling us what you were doing with Guiliana, Stephanie, and that drug-dealing asshole Lance. Our records are sparse on you Nicolai. Where are you from and what are you doing in Peru?"

Nicolai glanced up at the man who was in charge due to the fact that the other officers had brought him in to talk to, or rather interrogate, Nicolai. Nicolai said nothing for a few moments after Detective Espinoza asked question. Instead he looked in the opposite direction and sighed.

"You look injured, it wouldn't take much to finish the job," Nicolai began his eyes seemingly shimmering, giving off a slight glow before he turned away. He had to remember where he was and what was going on. He had to play it cool and answer the questions. Turning back to face Espinoza, Nicolai began, "I came to Peru with a good man, a man who was killed by Lance. Father Francis was like a father figure to me, and that no good drug pedaling criminal killed him. Father Francis and I were simply explorer catacombs and that is when it happened. Like I told your jackass officers, I didn't do anything wrong."

Nicolai had purposely dodged the question of where he was from and what he was doing with Guiliana, Stephanie and Lance. No, he'd wait for Detective Espinoza. He wanted to gauge this particular individual and see what kind of information he could gather from the "good" detective.

Detective Espinoza got in Nicolai's face as he was turned away, "Is that a threat, Nicolai?" His breath was so close he could feel it on his skin. "I don't need to beat you; I don't need to touch you. You could just as easily fall several times and bruise yourself something awful," he added in mock concern.

He listened to Nicolai's response and stood up and back again. "You expect me to believe you just followed him back to his room and hung out with the man who killed a priest? Hey, Marquez... check on that priest for me. Nicolai, when did 'Father Francis' arrive? And if your story doesn't check out, you can bet I'm going to enjoy watching you have one of those nasty 'accidental' falls I was just warning you about..."

Nicolai looked into the eyes of Detective Espinoza and knew the man was not joking; however, Nicolai wasn't either and he wished he could show this foolish detective what he could do. He softly churned in his seat to get a bit more comfortable.

"If you would remove these restraints, I'd tell you EVERYTHING you want to know."

Espinoza made a buzzer sound. "Fat chance, Nico. Try telling me everything I want to know, and then maybe I'll loosen those cuffs."

"Is the great detective afraid of little ol' me?" Nicolai taunted, leaning back a bit as he simply closed his eyes, "fine, since you're a coward, I'll let you know. While in the catacombs of Peru, I witnessed the murder of Father Francis. Lance only spared me because I offered my services to him. He told me that if I worked for him, he'd spare my life. I'm not used to this type of stuff. I'm from a small town known as Maple Hill, and there we don't experience this type of shit. When Lance offered me life instead of death, I took it. I was scared and I really had no choice unless I wanted to end up like Father Francis. Everything that happened afterwards was all Lance's ideas and were orchestrated by him. I had nothing to do with it."

Nicolai looked up at Espinoza and sighed.

"There I told you all I know now if you don't mind? I'm sure my boyfriend is worried sick about me since I haven't seen him since this entire thing started."

The officer who had gone out to check on the story of Father Francis came back. "Boss, I got information on Father Francis. Turns out he," pointing to Nicolai, "was on Copa Airlines Flight 165 with a priest by the same name... and there's something else here... he was with a guy named Chris..." The officer glanced at the detective with a tilted head and then back at Nicolai, who had just mentioned...

"Is that your boyfriend's name, Nico? Chris? Maybe we should bring him in for questioning too... just to make sure you're not lying to us. How would you like that, eh? I could make it happen." Nicolai had pushed his buttons from the start and he was only too happy to reciprocate with the taunting.

"What did Lance want from you? Did he want you to run drugs? I have information that tells me he wanted more than that..." Detective Espinoza pressed him. "Tell me what else you know, Nico, or I swear to you, we'll find your boyfriend and make him talk."

The detective honestly didn't know what else to expect from Nicolai... of the four, he seemed to have the least connection, but when he rebuked Nico's request, he caved a little. He was not convinced Nic was telling him the whole story and thought he'd apply a little more pressure to see what else, if anything, he could get from him. Anything he could add to what he had would be useful against Guiliana, Lance, and Stephanie.

"If you touch him I swear I'll............." Nicolai struggled against the restraints but to no avail, "I TOLD YOU EVERY FUCKING THING I KNOW. LANCE DID IT ALL, WE WERE JUST PAWNS IN HIS GAME. THE PROSTITUTION, THE DRUGS, THE MURDER, ALL OF IT WAS LANCE, I WAS JUST THERE. HE THREATENED MY LIFE, WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO? IF I DIDN'T DO WHAT HE SAID, HE TOLD ME HE'D FIND MY FAMILY, AND KILL THEM IN FRONT OF ME. DON'T DO THIS DETECTIVE, DON'T TAKE THE ONLY MAN I EVER LOVED FROM ME."

Nicolai allowed tears to fall from his eyes at the thought of losing his loved one. Chris was really the only family he had, and he hated being powerless to anyone who threatened to take Chris away from him. He couldn't relax, but he slumped back and waited attempted to stop the tears.

Detective Espinoza narrowed his eyes. It could've been an act. "I'd like to thank the Academy..." and all that jazz. He glanced back at the officer who brought in the information, questioning him with his eyes. The officer shrugged and stuck out his lip, "His story seems kosher to me..."

He turned back to Nicolai. "Alright, Nicolai. Alright.... I believe you..." he patted the crying man's shoulder.

"Just tell me about this... relic the others told me about from the others and then I'll let you go."

It was a gamble. Ben tipped him off to the relic, and so far, he hadn't turned it up. It's what he was supposed to find on them besides the drugs, so Espinoza rolled the dice. Come on, Nico... give me what I need...

Nicolai looked at the picture held in front of him. It was the relic that he and Father Francis had went to claim, and the last he knew he had it, but upon further delving into his mind, he began to think. Could it had been taken away from him by Lance and the the two girls? He didn't have it now so one of them had to have it, but which one? He was almost certain Lance had it, and he remembered letting Lance hold it, but he could've sworn Lance had given it back to him. Because this man was asking for the relic, or info on it, solidified the thought that Lance had to still hold claim to the relic and that it was no longer in Nicolai's possession. Nicolai kept a straight face wanting to wipe his tear stained face but the restraints prohibited him.

"Me and Father Francis were exploring the catacombs to find that relic, but we never got a chance to see it, nor touch it. I'm afraid it is still in the catacombs of Peru, at least that is my guess. If the others told you about it, then you'd have more success in asking them about it."

"You were working closely with them, Nico...." Detective Espinoza pushed a little more, "You're certain they don't have it? Think."

"I never saw the damned thing, and I'm a hundred percent sure they don't have it," Nicolai replied his voice stern, "can I go now? I need to see him."

Espinoza stared him down.

Then another coworker opened the door and announced that a gentleman named Chris was here to post bail if necessary.

"Seems he wants to see you too. Stay close, Nico. I'll be calling on you soon enough for your testimony. Better find yourself a good lawyer." Espinoza pushed himself from the table and turned around. "See him out, and if he hits either one of you, put him back in and tell Chris we're detaining him for questioning."

"Are we clear, Nicolai?" he asked, turning around to face the young man once more.

Nicolai nodded and waited for the detective to leave before exhaling and allowing the handcuffs to be removed. The officers saw him out and Nicolai restrained the want to plant their faces in the ground. When he saw Chris, all emotion came rushing back and he ran to his love, embracing him lovingly.

"Are you okay?" Chris asked.

"Yes, I'll be fine," Nicolai managed to sob out, "how did you find me?"

"I saw them when they took you. All that matters is that your safe. You don't have to explain anything to me. I'm just glad you're alright," Chris stated holding Nicolai as he cried in his arms, his face buried in the crook of Chris' neck. Rubbing Nicolai's hair, he closed his eyes and kissed Nicolai softly on the head, "let's get out of here."

[Aheris]

Date: August 22nd, 2042
Time: Mid-day
Location: Police Station, Interrogation Room

Guiliana's toes dragged lightly across the tile floor, making a soft rushing sound. The sound was much gentler than the action it followed. The officers were hauling her from beneath her arms, one on each side. As they arrived in the interrogation room, they dropped her onto her knees in the middle of the floor.

Guiliana glared up at the two officers. Her tone was low, but the rage simmering in her voice was obvious. "How about that phone call, officers?"

"Shut up, lady," the one blurted out, not really giving her request the time of day it may have deserved, considering her considerable connections and resources. He didn't care. "You'll get your phone call when we're through with you," the other added.

Detective Espinoza entered soon after, his left arm bandaged, the bandage tinged with dark crimson. He had obviously been wounded. He approached the woman on her knees, and with gritted teeth he grabbed her collar brusquely and hauled her single-handedly back and upwards to her heels and then *SLAM!* back against the unforgiving wall. His unclean breath washed over her face as he blew in it with every word.

"You tell me everything you know, right now, or you'll never see daylight again. And I don't care who you are, or how much money you have. I know the judge. I'll make sure you're stuck here with our wonderful prison population long past the point of comfort..."

Grimacing slightly in response, she said softly, "Maybe you should care. Because if I could tell you something about what was in that room, your offer would mean something to me. And if you pass me my bag, I'll dig you out an altoid."

*SLAM!* went Guiliana's jaw and face against the wall. "Wrong answer, bitch. I did a little digging on you after we ran into your old man in the lobby. I know you have money, and I know who you are. You weren't down here for a pleasure cruise. But I can definitely see someone like you tied into a drug-dealing son-of-a-bitch like Lance." He raised his voice to a bellowing growl, "TELL ME WHAT YOU WERE DOING."

"Break my jaw, and I'll be talking even less." She rubbed her jaw with her left hand. "Do you want the itenerary of our bus trip? My reciepts from dinner at the cafe?"

"I want everything. Start talking."

"I came down here to take a trip with my father. I brought some company along. I didn't search their bags for cocaine on the way in, but I'm sure airport security did...I'm not sure how they'd miss something like that. I'm also not sure when said son-of-a-bitch would have time for a drug deal, since he never left my sight..." She let out a slight cough." So that leaves one plausible option and would explain how you bastards got there so quickly..."

"I don't like your fucking tone, *bitch.*" Espinoza growled again, coming *this* close to slamming her pretty bruised head back into the wall.

But he restrained himself. He leaned in again, "I know about the cave. I know you were out there. Your friends Nico? Stephanie?" He paused for effect and then growled in her ear, "They talked. They talked quite a bit about you, Lance, drugs... and *other* things too. So unless you start telling me something I haven't heard already, I've got plenty of reason to detain you for the rest of your rich life."

"Oh, so you know I'm an archaeology nut and I like ruins and caves? That I don't know shit about where Lance gets his fix? Yes, you've got me. I'm curious, though, what did they say about me?" Her lips twitched ever-so-slightly.

Espinoza shook his head and smirked. What a pro. He definitely had one of 'em here.

"Where's the *relic* Guiliana?" he inquired in a sing-song voice.

"Aw, c'mon Espeeenoza...You know better. That's a nice little story the natives cooked up to keep the Spanish busy. There's nothing down there but dirt and salt."

"Funny, I heard the same thing. From your friends. Said you have it. I'm going to enjoy stripping you down," he leered.

Guiliana's inky-colored eyebrow shot up. "Well, then, officer... I'm definitely going to need a smoke...But let me tell you a little something about my colleagues. Stephanie would probably say just about anything you wanted, because she's got the internal strength of a bowl of jello. I'm sure that's convenient...And Nicolai...you'd better head back down to the cave with a wheelbarrow, because you're going to need a wagon load of salt."

"Two against one. Count me unconvinced Guili..." he replied. "Officers... be thorough." He stepped back and motioned for them to move in and strip search every inch of her.

Guiliana pursed her lips and wrinkled her forehead, in a mix of annoyance and disinterest. She unbuttoned the top of her blouse, revealing a turquoise ring on a silver chain. She unclasped the chain and let it fall into her right hand. Extending her hand to Espinoza, she stared into his eyes.

"Take it. This is what you want, isn't it?" Her tone was insistent.

He snapped it up from her fingers, his hard eyes moving from hers to the necklace and ring, narrowing. "What is it."

"That's what we all want to know, chief. All I know are some old myths about the Coya."

He considered her words. He didn't know anything about this; he only knew that Ben wanted it.

"Fine."

Another officer entered the room, abruptly catching Espinoza's attention.

"Boss?"

"Yeah?"

"Her father is in the waiting room. Her lawyer's on the phone. And the chief says we gotta let her go because the judge has already agreed to bail for her."

"But she's a flight risk!"

"Doesn't seem to matter, boss."

He turned back to Guiliana.

"Get the fuck out of here. We'll be in touch. This isn't over."

"I can't wait, boss." She winked at the two officers. Her voice was drenched with disdain as she turned for the door and said, "It's been a real treat. Don't lose my precious, now."

[Ad Infinitum]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 7:45 AM
LOCATION: A town below Bran Castle.



“–psst, domnul,“ hissed a small voice.

Tansy whirled to glare at whoever dared to approach them. Already feeling jumpy, and in a less than pleasant mood from a lack of food and sleep, this was no time for a nosy townsperson to be creeping up and asking what they were doing. But she physically recoiled at the sight of the child.

...Tansy James wasn't exactly the motherly type.

Instead she watched the boy with suspicious eyes as he moved away from them without another word and slipped into the cafe. She waited until the door had closed before turning back to Thomas, who held a note in his hand.

"What does it say?" Tansy asked, breathless.

Her companion didn't answer at first. He was reading the piece of cardboard over then over again. Tansy waited. And waited. She tapped her foot. Then finally, she reached out and snatched the trash from Thomas' fingers.

"I thought doctors were supposed to be smart," she said with a scowl. "I can't imagine you got through med school at a decent pace if it takes you that long to read something."

‘Follow our Brother and stay out of sight. We wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.’

"Gihst?" she wondered aloud. He had said he would be catching up to them. But at the same time, how would he know about Brother Stephen? Tansy bit her lip.

But there was no time for questions. She could see Stephen moving through the window, following the same boy who passed Thomas the scrappy note.

"Hide!" she hissed, and it was barely enough warning for the two to scramble behind a dumpster just as the gypsy boy and the holy man were exiting the building. Tansy's eyes narrowed as she watched them depart. "’Follow our Brother’?" she repeated, ignoring her beau's offer to help her up and rising to her feet on her own. "We're getting good at that by now, aren't we Tom? Let's go."



Brother Stephen found it curious that this boy was leading him on a merry chase. But curiosity was the reason he was here in the first place. He exited the tavern, walking past a number of other people, trying to keep his eyes fixed on the lad as he threaded his way through the morning crowds.

"Where are we going?" He called out to the boy.

“…Bună,” the child murmured as he reemerged, breaking through the crowded bodies like a nimble draft.

“Grandmother…she ‘ss dying, she needs her last rites. I go to church, but–“ the boy paused, hesitant, before whispering “–f’ey believe it u’as a trick…our caravan ‘ss outside to’un. Hurry, please Preot.” He shuffled forward, a meek hand taking hold of his cassock sleeve -- the child questioned what the ‘Quiet Man’ had advised, but he had done as he was told. A wise child of the Romani learned to judge people early on, and he had thought he had seen something kind and sad in the Quiet Man. And despite his instinctive caution, somehow, the child believed the Quiet Man would keep his word and be there standing, waiting, at the end of the dirt road.

Brother Stephen didn't even consider that this might've been a ploy for something else; his mind was preoccupied by two things: 1) getting to the Bloodstone tonight and 2) helping this little boy. Had he been paying more attention, he might've recognized Tansy James and Dr. Thomas Fynn when he passed right by them.

"A caravan?" Stephen replied, half in surprise, half nonplussed, "Are... are you a gypsy boy?" His steps started to slow. While he had nothing against gypsies per se they were notorious for their predilection towards criminal behavior and deception. Doubt joined with concern in his mind, and now he wondered just what he may be getting himself into.

“–I am Romani! And my name ‘ss Hanzi!” The boy cried with a blistering timbre, soured, rounding to throw that large hand from his grasp. Then when he sensed that wrinkle of doubt hovering over him, he withered, shrinking into himself – 'Dinnae panic should he gae nervous,’ the voice of the Quiet Man came back to him from memory. ‘Shame him, n’ he’ll follow.’ Then Hanzi had been advised not to tell his name, but he botched it in anger. He tried to find words, but his throat had tightened so much that it came out as no more than a squeak.

Hanzi sunk, his small hands balled into whitened fists at his sides. He molded that squeak of dread into despair, that wither of fear into sorrow, as his fragile voice trickled out once more. “…you u’ill not come now, u’ill you?” Then those hazel eyes lifted to pierce Brother Stephen.

“……I told you so you u’ould not think u’e u’ere going to rob you…so you u’ould help Bună,” he began in a broken mutter. ”But still you u’ill abandon us…u’ill you not?” Angry tears came to sting in his eyes, so he scrubbed them away with a roomy sleeve. That moment, Hanzi could feel his daily bread slip away between his fingers like dust.

Brother Stephen felt the heat of embarrassment and shame flush into his face. No, he would treat this boy as any other, but would keep his ... misgivings... to himself. For now. Catching himself in thought, he shook his head and then smiled, "Of course not. I trust you. Lead on. I'll help as I can."

Hanzi brightened through his cracked mask of grime.



Meanwhile, it was clear Tansy was not doing well. Whether that was due to hunger, frustration over not having yet found the bloodstone, or the need for a good mind-blowing orgasm, Thomas could not be certain. Still she was getting shorter and shorter with him and, patient though the man was, he was beginning to grow irritable himself. The note had been simple to understand, easy to read though Tansy seemed to think him illiterate or something. It was the message that made little sense. Follow our brother... His charming companion seemed to think it was Gihst, though why she would presume so was beyond him. They had never seen the man write and he could not imagine why Gihst would call Brother Stephan a brother. Perhaps he merely misunderstood the context...

They followed along together, keeping their distance and blending as best they could lest Stephan suddenly get the notion to turn about and look their way. The boy that lead him through the maze of streets looked of the common sort but dirtier as if he could not truly afford a bath. His clothes were unkempt, the pants a little too small as the ends of the legs rested just a bit above the ankles. What reason could Brother Stephan possibly have in following the kid? Was the boy some manner of informant? A tool to be used in the quest for the Bloodstone?

"Where do you suppose they are headed?" he asked her quietly. Stephan and the boy had stopped now and the young lad looked troubled as if something had been said to worry him. At this distance it was difficult to tell what had caused it but the boy looked the kind of desperate he often saw in families that needed medical assistance desperately but lacked the money or insurance to make everything required possible. As a doctor he hated seeing that look and knowing he could do nothing to fix it. He had joined the medical career to help people but it wasn't until he was finally through college and in that he realized medicine was more than just helping others and curing sickness. It was a business and the ones who called the shots stayed his hand whenever they saw fit. That was at least one thing about his previous job he would not miss. A bright side to everything, he supposed.

The pair started off again. He was not sure what Stephen had said but it seemed to have relieved the boy. Thomas's hand found its way into Tansy's once more as they moved to follow.



The lone man lowered his heavy stare down on the child as he hurried from the priest into his shadow. Hanzi was smiling, his white teeth brilliant against his soiled skin, looking so damned proud…– he remembered the pained crease to his mother’s brow when he had dropped the crumpled money onto the nightstand beside her bed. Her broken lips twisted at him beneath her smeared make-up, her bruised semblance as disheveled as her curly blonde hair; she had been weeping. His stomach churned when he looked at her. ‘…o’ nae again, Murphy, whit hae y’done tae thy nose?’ She sighed; exasperated, clicking her tongue as she reached for him…her hand had felt so frail against his cheek. She darkened, knowing he had tussled with the last customer and had gotten his nose busted good in the endeavor. ‘…dinnae dae this anymore, bairny, Ah’m alreet…we’re goin’ tae be alreet…’ -- Gihst blinked, ignoring the bitterness that remained in his mouth…

…and paid the child with the last shred of money to his name. “…tell thy family tae leave this place,” he husked woodenly to the boy. “Nae safe here anymore…”

The boy hesitated and stared, bewildered.

“–dae as Ah say.” Gihst barked, his ragged voice scratching like flint on steel.

Hanzi spooked so hard that it knocked his small frame; and blanched with fear, he backpedaled, stumbled, and broke away across the fields.

Gihst then took a moment to light another clove cigarette before addressing the lone priest.

“…Brother Stephen, is it nae?” He asked, partially subduing a cough with a furrowed brow, the suddenness in which his anger cooled more eerie than its sudden heat.

Brother Stephen stopped up and stiffened. This man knew his name, and he was far more imposing than anyone else he had encountered this day. Damn it, he thought. I knew there was something wrong with all of this...I knew it. He let out a sigh of resignation as the man addressed him. Oh Lord, how you do enjoy your mysterious ways. Very well... let's see how this plays.

"It is, and who might you be?" the priest inquired with a solid tone of sincerity and authority, straightening himself up to best match his stature with that of his addressor.

“…afraid we cannae speak here, Brother,” Gihst said, shaking his head.

“This is ‘baet the ‘Stone,” he began. “There aer men o’ the American Federal Bureau here searchin’ as well, n’ from whit Ah hae come tae understand, they’hae already killed for it. Ah hae no reason tae believe they would shy from harmin’ anyone involved – even a man o’ the cloth. We’aer both in danger here aet in the open – Ah will tell you whatever y’need tae know once we’aer somewhere safe.”

"I've never met you in my life, and you tell me the American FBI is here? I heard about the incident in the cafe, I admit, but I don't trust you for no better reason than you must be caught up in all this somehow. You claim to know they've killed someone, yet you weren't in the cafe, which means you know this because of some other reason." He eyed the Scotsman, who was a head taller than him warily but defiantly.

“…Brother Stephen–” Gihst broke off and glanced briefly beyond the priest.

"And I'm here because the Stone has a spiritual value to the Church, and they are the rightful keepers of it, whatever you may think of it, or its importance. If you're mixed up with the Americans, I want nothing to do with you," he resolved, and turned to walk away...

...but Brother Stephen found Tansy's cold smile in his path. Upon seeing Gihst, the girl had shaken the blond back into her hair and quietly moved into place behind Stephen, anticipating the potential get-away. Thomas' solid presence was at her side, which only made Tansy feel more smug at the perfect result of the encounter.

"Going somewhere, Friar Tuck?" She purred. "But the fun's just getting started. Why don't you stick around so we can all get to know each other better?"

Brother Stephen was truly bewildered now. Tansy and Thomas, here with this Scotsman, and certainly not by chance. He was set up! The boy set him up! An expression of exasperation swept over his features. Damn it!

From behind, “…Brother Stephen,” Gihst repeated, a new tone in his voice. “Ah dinnae ask ye tae trust me aetright, only tae hear me aet.”

Clenching his jaw, he heard the words of the Scotsman over his shoulder like a soft suggestion, while glaring at the couple in front of him.

"What is it that you want," he said to all of them and none of them in particular. "I warn you, I rank very highly with the Church and they know I am here on a mission for them. I will be missed, and if you cross my path or keep me from what I am here to do, there will be consequences."

“–We’aer just here tae talk,” Gihst reassured Brother Stephen and stopped him with an upraised hand, coasting hardened eyes over the Americans to convey a clear warning: ‘remember that.’

Then Brother Stephen shook his head in anger and frustration, "None of you realize the forces at work here..."

“…that ‘Stone is Pandora’s Box,” Gihst murmured gently. “Whit Ah want is tae try n’ prevent that box from opening…’

He paused. “…Ah need thy help,” he continued. “The American Federal Bureau dosnae know me – yet, Ah hae showed ye my face, proved my involvement, came unarmed, and exposed myself tae a stranger who could easily expose me to the Bureau in return. Ah hae risked everything just for that ye may speak with me, Brother Stephen. N’ Ah kin guarantee Ah distrust the damned Yankees equally, or more so,” – his brow knitted – “…but Ah’m nae asking ye tae hae faith in them,” he said, up-nodding toward the dubious pair of Yankees. “Ah’m asking ye tae hae faith in me.”

"I have the knowledge and the background to handle the stone," Brother Stephen turned and replied to Gihst. "No one of you can possibly know as much about it as I do. Even more, I'm a servant of the Catholic Church, and the Vatican has personally entrusted me to this errand, to ensure that the Stone can be kept in the safety of the Church's bosom, and not in the clutches of the wicked and damned."

He took in a sharp breath, "So if you wish to help me, and you wish to prevent the Stone from falling into the wrong hands, then I can certainly use the help. You make a point in exposing yourself to me, but it still doesn't make me trust you. It's quite clear I was tricked here, and my faith in your goodness has been shaken, but I am willing to forgive any sinner. I do not condone or endorse your methods, and I would strongly like to know what your involvement," and then he turned to Tansy and Thomas, "... as well as your involvement is and has been with the FBI. While generally they are an organization whose purpose is to the good, I cannot know their motives anymore than yours."

"If your words are true, surely, shedding more light on these concerns of mine will not be beyond your capability or desire. But I agree with you, the sun is coming up, and we are too much in the open. Do you have a better place in mind to talk?"

Deep down, Brother Stephen couldn't believe he was saying these things, but a man of faith must have faith, even when doubts plague him and implore him to the contrary.

“…there’s an abandoned shack further daewn the road,” he husked, shifting to tuck his thumbs loosely in the pockets of his denims. “– Unless y’two already hae a better place…” He paused with a glance to Tansy.

Tansy frowned and met Gihst's gaze with a cold glare. His words had been less than inspiring regarding herself and her current beau. Whether they had been for the sake of trying to earn Brother Stephen's trust or his honest opinion of them was unclear, but she supposed this wasn't the time to pursue that question.

"We haven't found anywhere better," she replied through her teeth. "I guess an abandoned shack is as good a place as any."

“…decided then,” Gihst stated, coolly overlooking her spite. “Let’s gae a move on…”

[Rook]

Date: August 22nd, 2042
Time: Mid-day
Location: Police Station, Interrogation Room

It wasn't hard. There was no struggle. No fight. He simply walked. His hands were bound in front of him by the cuffs on his wrists. A Guard to either side of him had a firm hand clamped down on the respective bicep. A cooled smirk adorned his face as he glanced to either side, staring at the joyless expressions on the faces of the men leading him down that long, dimly lit hallway.

And at the end, was simply a door. They opened it and pushed him inside, dragging him with no resistance to the seat before a table in the center of the room. The one to his left pulled the chair back, and without any prompt from the other Lance plopped down, sitting under that single light. From here, he couldn't see anything. The one light, covered on all sides except straight down, did an excellent job of both darkening every corner, every wall of the wide, yet somehow strangling claustrophobic room, and spoiling his night vision. His hands immediately came up from his lap as he set elbows on the table, and crossed fingers in front of him, masking his the lower half of his face as his cool gaze sent daggers into the darkness of the interrogation room.

“Detective.” he stated, almost a greeting, breaking the eerie silence punctuated only by the soft electric hum of the single light bulb. He couldn't see the man, but he was certainly under the educated assumption that he lurked in some obscured corner of the poorly lit room, eying him like a Jaguar, stealthily stalking unsuspecting prey.

"Lance Navarrette," came the all-business reply. Detective Espinoza stepped out from the darkness and took a seat across from his prisoner.

"You come all the way from the States for some drugs? Hard to believe when there's so much north of here you could've gotten with less trouble."

"So why don't we cut the crap and you tell me why you're really here." Espinoza wasn't asking. It was a demand. A demand that Lance simply spit at. Metaphorically of course.

"Nice Arm. Little girl get ya? Yeah she's a wild one. Hell of a jaw strength on that one for such a slender face. Anyway, onto your question. Why am I here?" he murmured through a sneer. "What kind of stupid question is that? It's called a vacation. Here, I'll dumb it down to your level. Sometimes, when people with money get fed up with their shitty job, be it hotel owner, hospital prisoner... Whatever it is that the black guy does... Or of course, bad ass drug lord, they pack up these things called 'bags' and get on something called an airplane, and fly off to a distant land. How are you not getting this? I mean, even fucking God did it."

"'God' has nothing to do with you, Lance. I would wager if there is a 'God', He is sure as hell not too concerned with your meaningless existence. You didn't answer my question," Espinoza added, ignoring the jab about his arm. "I know how you got here, genius. What I asked you is why. And the best answer you have to give me is 'for vacation'? Who do you think you're foolin'? Not me. But I'm not going sit here all night while you decide which line of bullshit you're going to feed me next."

Espinoza suddenly reached across with his good hand and grabbed Lance by his collar, pulling him forward with a direct frontal lurch half way over the table and got his face.

"My patience has limits, Lance. You better start talking or I'll find a way to make it very uncomfortable for you to bullshit with me, very quickly..."

"Go ahead. Hit me. Break my jaw, we'll see how talkative I am then." He said through a smirk, glaring up dangerously right into the detective's eyes. "We can play this your barbaric way, or we can play it the way where you get any information you want... My way."

Espinoza maintained steady eye-contact, reading Lance's own dancing pupils for any signs of breaking. He was good at this, having interrogated hundreds of people in his life.

"Until you give me any reason to believe shit from you, you'll play my way, in my house. Start talking Lance, and maybe you'll convince me. Don't talk, and I might just be convinced that those teeth of yours aren't really necessary after all." Espinoza was calling his bluff--something Lance was not altogether unused to, as the whole scenario was a bit like that which happened not even two days before in the cave between Ben and himself.

He really had to work on that bluffing skill....

"Alright, Alright Espee. Cut the crap, I'll talk, just let me sit. You too, because I'm going to drop such a shocking truth on you, that your knees might buckle." He said. His original urge had been to act apologetic, spit in his face, and call it a metaphor, seeing that his original intention was nothing more than to lie so badly it would seem like as though he was spitting in the face of the entire Lima Police Force. But right before he went with that, he decided that the truth was sometimes stranger than fiction.

"Actually, Detective, it has everything to do with God. Tell me Vidal, do you believe?" He said, staring down at the table, manic grin returning to his face.

Espinoza was immediately put off by the "Espee" nickname that Lance spat at him, but it was far less provocative than the other smart-ass remarks he had made--more par for the course at this point. But as much as he really wanted to break his nose a second time, he fought back the urge to force Lance to have facial reconstructive surgery in order to breathe, and set him down.

"You're pretty fucking religious for a drug-dealer. You sure you're not dipping too much into your own supply, kid?"

His response was an indirect answer to Lance's question, on par with "make it matter and maybe I'll listen".

"All in due time Detective. Just one more question and you can have all the free answers you want. What about the Devil... You don't believe in God, but certainly you must believe in him. You see his work every day. Sometimes you stop it. Sometimes you can't. How about it Mr. Espinoza, do you believe in Satan?" he said, that manic gaze snapping up and focusing on the officer.

"I believe people dig their own graves, and create the problems and solutions we have in this world," Espinoza shot back, before turning around to one of the two by-standing officers and barking an order, "Get me a drug test. I want to see what kind of cocktail he's got in his veins." The officer nodded and disappeared. Detective Espinoza turned around with a smile. "Keep talking ghosts and goblins, Lance. We got all the time in the world and so many tests we can run, you'll feel like a stuck pig before this is all over." At Espinoza's words manic laughter tore from Lances mouth like a peal of thunder.

"Blood, spit, piss! Maybe a spinal tap even Detective! Try them all! I'm as clean as the inside of a bottle of hydrogen peroxide!" He howled through the manic laughter. And finally as the laughter settled, his bound hands came back up from his lap, and he rested face in open palm.

"So now, I promised you answers. Yes, the drugs were mine. I'm sure you are well aware of that already, after all, I assume it was you that took the call! How is Benny-boy?" He asked, eyes darting up to meet his once again. A cold stare that said "They have no idea. But I know, you know, I know that you know, and now you know that I know."

"How like mister Frakes. You know what? Forget it. I don't need his help to distribute the shit. Pffft, well, especially not now." Lance said, and turned the other cop. "Got a partner officer? I'd shoot him next time you get the chance. Trust me, after today I'm under the educated assumption he's going to fuck you over." Another, blatant lie. But fortunately, unlike everything else that he said today, he had some backing this time. It was completely off the top of his head, and forced him to put a temporary hold on the original strategy, but actually might have better consequences in the long run.

How could he have known who called him in, unless Ben was somehow involved in his operation. Ben was the best guess he had, and the only fucker in Peru that knew where they were staying and that they had the rock. With any luck, Lance just screwed him. Hopefully, he'd be here within the hour. He'd feel out how that went, and then go back to Plan A if necessary, but until then, he waited quietly.

Espinoza sat back for the first time, and wrapped his torso with his arms slowly, wearing a look of contemplation on his face.

"What's he talking about boss?" the remaining officer by the door asked with concern tinging his less experienced voice.

Vidal Espinoza sat there for a moment longer, his eyes never leaving Lance's, chewing on the words that he had just heard. Then he blinked and took a deep breath, answering his younger colleague in an even tone of voice, "He's playing with you now, Chavez. He's into mind games, this one." His stare was stone cold.

In his mind, Espinoza knew Lance was right. He knew this because it was Ben Frakes who set these sorts of deals up for him from time to time, just as he had this time. It was like shooting fish in a barrel.

But usually, beyond knowing they were set up, the accused weren't nearly as aware of who had betrayed them.

The case was obviously different here.

Fuck, Espinoza thought to himself. Ben must've botched this one; gotten a little too close, or stayed too long... he let himself be known. And now Vidal was left holding the bag.

Well, simple enough. It's not like Espinoza never had to wrap up a case where the idiots arrested didn't have a clue between them. He'd just have to cinch this one up with a little more force and directness than usual.

"Chavez, could you get me some coffee?" Espinoza said over his shoulder.

"Sure, boss," the younger officer replied and promptly left.

When the door shut, Espinoza replied: "I've never heard of any 'Ben Frakes' but I'll be sure to commit his name to memory and hunt his ass down when I'm through with you. Who knows, maybe I'll get a promotion for bringing down the entire goddamn ring of you bastards." Then he smiled. "What about the rock, Lance? Aren't you going to tell me about that?" It was a rhetorical question. Espinoza didn't mind playing the game this way and answered before Lance had a chance to speak, "OH, wait! You don't have it, because I got it from Guiliana." The smile grew wider. "Seems she was more concerned about getting out this than saving your skin, Lance. Totally cut and run. Her daddy is filthy rich and would be an awful pain in the ass to fight in court, so I was willing to let her go." Then he shrugged in mock fashion, "But she totally hung you out to dry, man..."

Now the smile broadened to its full width, "What have you got for me besides some bags of cocaine and a name? Right now, your chips aren't enough to keep you from trial, and the evidence is more than enough to put you away."

Espinoza leaned forward now, pressing his advantage to take this thing further. "You're not from around here. So where were you headed, Lance? Where are you and your buddies going? And how many more of you are there?" This put Lance at a crossroads. To be or not to be. A total ass that is. A fearful expression took his face.

"Ok... Alright, I'll talk... Me and my guys... I was going to ditch the girls and meet up with them. We were headed to a small town in eastern continental Asia... Little place in South Korea. A town called Fuk Yoo." He finished, his expression fading back to the snide, arrogant smile like before.

Lance could barely get the words out before Detective Espinoza lashed out, grabbed a fist full of hair, and pulled Lance's face straight down with frightening speed into the metal table. The sound of impact was blunt with the flesh and blood smacking dull and wet against the surface, combined with the reverberating *BOOM* that vibrated through the actual metal, which was afterwards painted with splatters of blood and a dent the size and shape of the front of the young man's face. It was a concussive blow, and would've knocked even a pro-football player into a swirl of unconsciousness.

The young officer had returned, opening the door. Glimpsing the sight with a gaping mouth, Chavez stood motionless in stunned silence. Detective Espinoza turned to him and calmly said, "He's going to need a doctor. You're not to ask him any questions. After he gets medical attention, he is to be locked up here. I want him stripped until there's nothing left but prison attire, got it?" Chavez nodded, open-mouthed, dumbly.

"Get Estevez in here to help you clean up this mess. I'm through playing games with him. He's going away... for as long as possible." Detective Espinoza rose up from his chair, having passed summary judgment on the badly injured Lance Navarrette and turned to leave the room.

Meanwhile, back at the table, once more those black spots Lance was becoming far too used to found their way back into his line of sight. He lay face down across the table, the detective's words echoing in his head, and his mind began to fog. He knew trying to retain consciousness was a losing battle, but he fought for a moment anyway. Blood pooled in his mouth, and spilled out onto the table as his lips peeled back into a cruel grin, and one last statement came out.

"I know you hit me... So I'm guessing you might have figured it out... But just to let it be known... That was my own clever little way of saying Fuck You. Fuck you, you mother fucking, Dirty Harry wannabe, soon to be deceased, son of a bitch... The end times are here Vidal... I'd start praying... Because you just pissed off the Harbinger. " He growled, hoping that threat was coherent enough to make it to the Detective as he walked away. And then the world went black.

[Rook]

Date: August 22nd, 2042
Time: 9:00 PM
Location: Prison Cell 26 C; Lima, Peru.

All was silent. The darkness was tangible. Lance had been awake for nearly three hours now. After Espinoza's little "outburst", he'd been taken in for medical care, and by the time he woke up, still cuffed of course, he was on his way back to the prison. He was drug by his ever pleasant armed escorts to cell block C, and tossed, both literally and unceremoniously into his current abode, left to rot for no doubt what they had all assumed would be a quote unquote Very Long Time. Unfortunately for them, Lance wasn't one to give up so easily. He'd been plotting his escape since he'd stood up off the couch.

But for now, he stretched out on his cot, slowly, meticulously slipping the thin sheet from his body, and cramming it down behind the mattress, all the while preparing to weave illusions. After an arduous five minutes of slow, silent movements, he stood. Painting that old, crazy look on his face, he stumbled to the bars. Glancing around, looking for the nearest possible guard.

Unfortunately, in the darkness, this was more of a challenge than he intended. Fortunately, Lance was also never one to go without a Plan B.

"Guard? Hey Guard! Get the fuck over here!" He called into the darkness. His words elicited a few annoyed grunts from nearby cells. Angry sounds laced with muffled threats (that I'm far too lazy to write here). Lance didn't care. He just stood his ground, pressed against those bars, wide, unfocussed eyes darting around, a psychotic facade hiding even more sinister intent.

There was a dull scuffing across the ground. The heavy boots half-dragged, half-dropped upon the concrete floor.

"This better be worth my coming over here to your dirty cell, scum. What do you want?" a gruff voice answered from the darkness before the chubby visage belonging to the husky and heavyset guard appeared partially in the gloom. Lance smiled wildly.

“Hey, hey guard. You wanna see something absolutely hilarious? Ok, so I'm sitting there, in my cot right, and I thought about this neat trick I could do with the blanket. You watching?” He said. It was then Lance stepped out of his body as he turned to walk to the cot. He stood in the darkness, watching his illusory double go to the cot, and reach under the bed. He glanced back to the guard, who was watching half in irritation, half in amused confusion at this clearly psychotic inmate.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked suddenly as the Double began to wrap the illusory sheet around his neck. He tied it off at the back of his neck, and began looping the sheet around post of the top bunk.

“No, no, it's cool. Once it's done, the real fun starts.” he said, and very abruptly, slumped, kicking his legs forward. His head shot upright, and is face went automatically red. Choking noises were immediately emitted from his throat and he began to struggle.

Lance smirked from his nearby position. It was surprising how shock and anger could turn a man the same color as self inflicted strangulation.

The fat man struggled with his keys, opening the lock, and throwing the door open. He shuffled across the concrete floor as rapidly as those thick legs could take him.

“You psychotic son of a bitch what are you doing!?” He said crouching. He reached for Lance. Attempting to pull him to his feet, hoist him up, alleviate the stress on his windpipe. If only he knew how ironic that was.

Confusion rocked the guard for a moment. He reached out again, watching his hand pass through Lance's nonexistent form. The illusion very sudden ceased. The choking stopped, his face pitched back around and stared illucidly into the man's eyes.

“Too late.” he whispered, both in front of his face, and dangerously close behind him. Before he could yelp, There was a forearm to the left of his throat, and a bicep to the right. The air path was completely cut off, and he struggled ferociously.

“Cool it fatty, I'm not going to kill you. Not yet anyway. Just relax, and take a fucking nap, you obese, stupid, piece of shit.” He said, his arm flexing, clamping down even tighter, and stalling blood flow. It took less than thirty seconds. His body slumped, and he set to work. He reached under the bed, taking the real sheet, and began to wrap the unconscious man. It didn't take long. Soon, everything was tied down except his hands, and a large wad was shoved into his mouth. His hands looped up and around the bed post. His handcuffs came out and he locked the man firmly in place.

Lance wasn't a total dick. He took the keys as well, but instead of pocketing them, stuck them in the keyhole. He might just have a chance to get out before the real fun began.

He stood, stretching and began to walk to the door, but stopped. That crooked smirk grew as he turned back. He crouched beside the unconscious body of the guard, and unstrapped his gun belt.

“Thanks for getting the door man. I'll leave this with the detective if you want it back.” he said, slapping the limp body twice on the cheek, and then, blinking from visibility, walked out of his cell, locking it behind him, and weaving an illusion. Another double. Sound asleep. Like a thin awning blotting out the view of a rolling thunderhead.

~~~~~

Date: August 22nd, 2042
Time: 9:55 PM
Location: Prison Kitchen; Lima Peru

Officer Sanchez nudged the door open, walking in as if busily looking for something. He kept that facade up until he was absolutely certain no one was there. He simply walked up to the stoves, and began turning on the gas.

~~~~~

Date: August 22nd, 2042
Time: 10:00 PM
Location: Detective's Office; Lima Peru

The door to Espinoza's office flew open, and an Officer Sanchez barged in.

"Detective, we have a problem. Navarrette's out, we can't find him!" He said fear and anger nudging through in his tone.

"Jesus Christ," the detective replied. "Let's go," he ordered, leaping from his seat. He came around his desk, and began to move for the door. But he never made it. Sanchez very suddenly drew up his gun and unleashed a round into Espinoza's knee.

Taken by complete surprise, Detective Espinoza saw the floor coming up at him before he even registered the jolt to his leg as the bullet blasted right through his flesh, followed by the hard stomp to his hand, causing him to cry out in pain uncontrollably. And then there were hands on his side arm, tearing the pistol from his belt,

"Ooh, Espee, so fucking sad..." he began, snagging his radio as well. "First bit of truth I've told you all damn day,. and all it does is get you shot in the knee. Tragic." Sanchez growled, accent gone, and appearance fading fast until Sanchez was once more simply Lance.

Espinoza looked up, unable to process--with all the pain now burning through his veins--just how Lance had pulled off the disguise. "You sick son of a bitch. I'm going to break you in half. You're never going to get... ahhh!" he winced and cried out as pain shot through his leg when he tried to clamber to his feet

And then, as Espinoza attempted to get up, Lance's gun found it's way up again, and another shot was fired into his shoulder.

"Fuck!" Espinoza shrieked in agony as another shot ripped through his shoulder, crippling him further. A reluctant tear slipped from his eyes as his body shook with anguish and exertion, Lance's words barely registering above the firestorm of pain already roaring through his body.

"No no, sit, I insist." He said, stepping off of the man's hand. "So listen, Noz, I don't have too much time here. I just thought I'd pop in, say hi. Maybe have a drink, but I see you've already got a ton of nice, refreshing fluid pooling around you, so I guess I'll just tell you what you want to hear." He said, smiling down at the bleeding man, whom despite all this, still struggled to get up, paying little heed to Lance's mocking commentary

Lance laughed a bit. "Oh, you. That is so Espinoza right there. So listen pal, because neither of us have too long. I... I'm the devil. I know, it's really hard to believe, follow me though. But more importantly, in just a little while, I'm going to be your new God. Well, not yours. It's hard to pray laying down underground. But everyone else, totally." he said, dropping the clip from Espinoza's gun, and pocketing it. "So that said, I just thought you deserved some answers before... Well, ya know."

Espinoza roared out in pain and frustration, dragging his knees underneath him, drool and blood coming from his shaking lips, replying with rage, "You think you're so fucking clever, Lance? You're never going to escape this. I'll find you, if it's the last thing I do. You'll have to kill me, because I won't stop..."

"Oh Detective... Come on. I'm not going to kill you. We're just talking here. Don't get me wrong, you're not going to make it. I just thought you might like to see some fireworks as you go. But you know, I couldn't seem to find any in the evidence locker in the full hour I've been out wandering these halls. So I figured the munitions office, boiler room, and kitchen should do the trick.” He said, cold, sadistic pleasure came to his eyes.

Espinoza shook and cried out again, struggling, hobbling, getting on his good leg while weakly favoring the other, blood all over his hands and down his shirt and pants. He turned to face his sadistic adversary, his eyes glowering and red with rage, his teeth clenched behind pulled back lips. He could barely stand, but he faced Lance now. He tried to hobble forward but nearly toppled over, catching himself at the last moment on the door frame. "You're not... you're not..." he panted, "going... anywhere. We'll both die right here if that's what it takes..."

"Yeah, no matter how much I'd love to take your last wish into account, that would REALLY put a damper on my plans, so..." He said, raising his gun one last time. He squeezed the trigger and the bullet tore from the barrel and burrowed into his target's lower back. "So listen, I've gotta run." He began approaching the wounded officer. Espinoza's glared wide eyed gripping the exit wound that final bullet Lance shot through him. The bullet knocked him back against the door, forcing him to crumple against it. Lance didn't care, he simply grabbed the wounded man by the collar, pulling him back and dropping him roughly to the floor. "Just, hang out. Reminisce about your life. Oh, and try not to move too much, you'll bleed out a lot faster." he said, the illusory transformation reappearing.

Blood leaked from his mouth as his eyes got glassy with pain and a gradually fading consciousness His last, whispered words, "Thisssh.... isshhn't... over..." The last word hissed and sputtered like grease in a frying pan. Lance halted where he stood, and crouched beside him, and placed a an open hand on the mans cheek. It seemed sentimental. Until the fire poured from his palm, eliciting one final howl of pain from Espinoza as the skin of the left side of his face began to burn, boil, and blister. And then he fell unconscious.

"Oh Espinoza... Rest up pal. I'll see you on the other side. That's when we have the real fun."

~~~~~

Date: August 22nd, 2042
Time: 10:15 PM
Location: Prison Parking Lot; Lima Peru

Camera Crews flooded the area, as armed prison guards held the prisoners at bay, handcuffs and drawn side arms. Firemen rushed the building axes gleaming as water was pumped through as many windows as possible. Reporters howled to the cameras over the roar of gushing hoses, sirens, screamed orders, and an absolute hail of gunfire from the ammunition store room that mysteriously caught, even though it was on the other side of the building from both the kitchen and the boiler room, where the fire was said to have originated.

Nearby a single guard stood alone, watching the blaze. A cigarette was hoisted to his lips as a overweight man in uniform hobbled by. He fell into step behind him.

“Made it out of the cell? Thanks for making it all possible.” he growled. The man whipped around, but he was already gone, disappeared into the crowd. The guard stood stunned for a moment. And then, in a fury, began pushing his way to the nearest reporter.

~~~~~

Date: August 23rd, 2042
Time: 7:00 AM
Location: The Navarrette Household, Alesia, North Carolina.

“The primary suspect in the investigation, and one of the few inmates not accounted for, is one Lance Navarrette, of Alesia Island. Lance was under investigation and preparing to stand trial for Drug Trafficking Charges, and heading a Prostitution Ring.”

Glass shattered. Lynne stood frozen, staring at the television, horror in her eyes. Her husband rose slowly from the couch as the news report went on. He turned, matching her horrified gaze with a cold, disturbed gaze of his own.

“Alex... This isn't our Lance... Tell me this isn't our Lance.” she pleaded. In quick strides, Alex made his way forward in long strides. He didn't speak. He simply embraced her. And she wept. Wept with no sign of slowing down.

“You know what this means...?”

“I know...” He said. From the sound of it, it was directed at her, a comforting phrase. But the one who asked the question wasn't Lynne. The only audible voice in the room was his own.

[Ad Infinitum]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 8:00-8:30 AM
LOCATION: An abandoned shack somewhere further back within the woods surrounding the town.



Brother Stephen noted the apparent tension between Tansy and Thomas, and the Scotsman with unusual, but understandable comfort. It indicated at least that these three were not entirely united in their purpose, and if that was indeed the case, it meant that he could possibly turn them against each other, should his own position become more threatened than it already was. He wisely kept this reasoning to himself, of course. It was not a course of action he readily desired to enact, but one did what one had to, given the circumstances.

It wasn't long after they started their trek into the woods that Brother Stephen glanced around and decided to break the icy silence that wrapped all four of them in its damp embrace.

"The Lord works in mysterious ways," he said aloud with a contemplative air. “ I was out walking these woods not two hours ago, and ran into you and Thomas, Tansy, and now here we find ourselves again, heading back into this same forest that cradles the town of Bran and it was I who was seeking to help you..."

He went silent as if in thought and then concluded, "Now it seems it is you who are instead leading me."

"I'm afraid I do not know your name, Scotsman. Of all the things you've chosen to 'trust' me with, you have curiously left your name out of the offering. May I have it now? Or perhaps, Tansy or Thomas, would you be so kind as to grant it to me freely?"

As soon as these words were spoken, it seems as if a sudden shrieking gust shot through the trees. Brother Stephen stopped dead in his tracks and pulled out his cross, holding it close to his chest while his lips moved in quiet prayer. "The day is upon us...the time draws near..." He looked about with widen eyes, as if he saw that which they did not...

…and the weight of a hand fell onto Brother Stephen’s shoulder. “…dinnae gae spooky, Brother Stephen,” the Scotsman murmured, some distance in his eyes. “Cannae stop here.” There came a couple solid, reassuring pats before he passed from the priest, pulling a cigarette from a crumpled pack with his teeth.

He knew how this could end, came intuition, and with a listless sneer he struck his Zippo and breathed the cigarette to life.

A benefit of the doubt was damned honorable, sure, and potential allies are better than certain enemies…however, something inside reasoned. Tansy is a ‘gypsy’ in more the derogatory slang than the casual definition. Fynn is ‘Jekyll and Hyde.’ And Brother Stephen’s willingness to help is as slippery as his nerves… – that voice of logic reminded – …help me here, Murph’.

…no, the Scotsman fought back the thought. He would not follow through with his warning to them unless–…

…–Lord, Gihst prayed. Prove me wrong. Then, there ahead loomed the shack. The ochre brick skeleton of the old country home was almost completely smothered beneath creeper vine, bittersweet nightshade, and morning glory. Paint, wood and shingle that had not rotted away, flecked and bowed from the rain beneath a leeching carpet of moss and lichen, bordering the few surviving windows, clouded and greasy.

Gihst stepped through the open door that hung halfway off its hinges. The creeeak of the old oaken floorboards startled some birds roosting in the rafters, and with whistling wings and cries, they escaped through a hole in the ceiling where light trickled through in dusty bands. There he paused, tucking his hands into the pockets of his denims.

"This place is creep-tastic," Tansy muttered as she looked around the shack. It was hard to imagine anyone having ever lived here, despite the evidence all around them. In fact, it was hard to imagine even their little rag tag party staying in the place for more than a minute or two. Her eyes were drawn upwards, as Gihst's were, towards the little hole in the ceiling where the birds had flown out.

An escape route, if necessary, she thought to herself before lowering her gaze again. Just have to keep from becoming breakfast to a bird on the way out.

“…after the last couple days,” Gihst husked. “As far as Ah’m concerned – its Hilton…” He drifted to an old kitchen chair against the wall, wiggled it by the back rest, then casually settled down, leaning his elbows to his knees and folding his hands.

"Abandoned caves, haunted forests, and dusty castles. I guess this isn't the worst place we've been in the last twenty four hours, huh?" She brushed her fingers along one of the chairs and inspected the layer of grey dust it left on her skin. Tansy grinned. "I think I'll stand."

Brother Stephen was startled and pushed simultaneously by the pressure of the Scot's hand and the other company around him. There was nothing but to proceed forward. He had to agree with Tansy's sentiment, and her "boyfriend" or whoever he was, was far too silent for comfort. As they stepped into the abandoned "cabin" (as it resembled that as much as anything else), the Scot seemed more relaxed, taking a seat after testing it for stability. Tansy was less reassured, clearly, judging by her muttered remark. Stephen agreed with her sentiment. Nothing about this place suited him.

He glanced around at his surroundings, taking in their features and considering his options. Then he took another look at his companions. They seemed normal enough, but Stephen, of all people, knew that appearances were deceiving--especially considering recent events. He pursed his lips and glanced at the Scotsman, then to Thomas, and then to Tansy.

"You're here for the stone then too?" He inquired of her. "You and your...'friend' here?" It was unclear whether he was referring to Thomas or the Scot. "Do you know his name? He won't give it to me."

And then he stood his ground, "and I'm not giving you or anyone else here anything until I know the truth. You want the truth from me? You're going to have to pay in kind." Just in case they got any ideas to frighten or threaten him, he shored up his resolve: "You already know I'm a priest. Threatening me with death won't work."

"My soul's place in God's grace is accounted for," he added, with a sincere finality. "What about yours?"

Tansy snorted and folded her arms across her chest, her put-together image cracking slightly with the frown that crossed her face. "Do animals have souls?" she nearly spat. "The birds that were just in here or the spiders that crawl in the corners of this dump? Show me the answer to that in your holy book and I'll get back to you on the answer on my own soul."

The girl ran a hand through her hair and let a forceful exhale shake her back into composure. "You know my name, and that's the only one I have to give," Tansy continued with a shrug. She glanced to Gihst.

“…I, am Gihst,” the Scotsman said after a pause, looking up from the floorboards. “N’ my soul is nae m’concern right naew…quid pro quo, then, Brother Stephen…”

"Neither of you seem to care much about your souls and yet you want me to entrust you with knowledge of the Bloodstone," Stephen scoffed. "I will say this. Of all the artifacts I have sought, this is perhaps the most dangerous." Right then, as if on theatrical cue, the sky darkened. Oh it was morning to be sure, and a moment ago, the sun was making his ascent, but the rays of light no longer warmed and brightened this world now. Brother Stephen glanced out at the growing darkness, moving a few steps to the window. "This stone, it is believed, was created by none other than Vlad Dracul, the Impaler himself. It possesses all the dread horror of his spirit and will most certainly compel all but the most devout to a life of villainy, as he had."

"No one, not even the Church, knows the full extent of the powers it possess and that is why it must be brought back to the Vatican to be studied. Even if you were to abandon me here, and go searching for it yourselves, you would not find it, for the Stone does not reveal itself except on one night of the year," Stephen said, turning to them as it became ever darker outside.

"Tonight."

“…irrelevant. Brother Stephen,” Gihst broke through in thickened rasp, using his name as though to beg pardon. The Scotsman folded his hands beneath his nose and stared through the grimy glass window; behind his mild eyes, thought. “…aer ye tae use ‘care’ as the plank of judgment for ‘trustworthiness’? Alreet…” then that characteristic grate in his intake of breath seemed suddenly pronounced as he gathered for words.

”…an objective example in that measure, then: Atheists dinnae believe in, nor care ‘baet, the soul…” Gihst began while fixing himself a fresh cigarette immediately after the prior. “…then according tae thy logic, would they nae also be untrustworthy? Lack empathy or morals? Aer incapable o’ good?” He paused to leak out a breath of smoke. “Sounds pretty short-shucked. Pushin’ a thing ‘personal’ aside in lieu o’ greater things than oneself does nae necessarily mean lack o’ care…ye, most o’ all, Brother Stephen, Ah’d expect tae understand that.” His tone warned of agitation, however, his outward semblance showed no validation. “As ‘most devout’ here, Brother Stephen, aer ye nae also subject tae the threat o’ ‘villainy’ that ye’hae mentioned?” He paused; there had been something ‘toying’ in his even tone.

Stephen listened with clenching jaw muscles and a barely contained desire to rebuke the Scot's logical contention, but he exercised restraint, no matter the flush in his cheeks. He could feel his body grow warm as it did when he was angry, but he fought back the incendiary rage like swallowing stomach acid. He trembled as he did so.

“…Ah ken m’fate, Brother Stephen,” Gihst said with some bile. “But Ah’ll be damned if Ah dinnae do some good afore the end, with or withaet ye…”

The ire of his spirit shone through his eyes, however, even if Gihst would not meet him, he approached the Scot. "Who are you to question me! I alone have devoted my life to this pursuit. I swear, unless you have a monastic record of isolation and contemplation upon all things esoteric and spiritual, I would suggest you take your petty logic and twisting words and use them on someone else, for I shall hear no more of it!"

Well…he thought he had control his anger...

“…temper, temper, Brother Stephen…” Gihst thrummed, the classical singsong absent.

Stephen shook again, his sense and reason wrestling back his rage. He fumed and exhaled hard, and then turned away, shaking his head, muttering a prayer asking forgiveness repeatedly from his lips as he paced.

However, that subject and semblance rolled off him as easily as water off greased rawhide; now, things were simply business. “…you hae said ’an evil thing hae gathered blood.’ If the Bloodstone be an ‘evil thing’ n’ hae lived up tae its namesake, it certainly hae. Ah followed the scent o’ blood from the clearing after ye left, so, Ah’ve at least a theory on its location. Theory aernae enough – that’s where ye come in.”

"You say you came to a place of blood. We should start there. There are several branches of the cavern system," the priest went on to explain, his fingers absently tapping upon the book that hung heavy in his satchel, while his other hand stroked his chin. "They represent 'fingers' of a hand...the Hand of Dracul. In one of those fingers, the Stone resides."

He stopped and turned, glancing at each of them. "But it will not appear to any of us, even me, until nightfall..." And then he glanced over their shoulders and out the windows to the still-darkening sky with a frown.

"Even if the Stone wishes night to come sooner..."

“…hae ye a visual map?” Gihst ventured, ferrying a glance to and from the satchel. “Ah’ve gae some experience with caverns n’ the like, but it is only wise tae understand a layout before venturin’ inside…”

Brother Stephen cracked a sudden smile, his eyes lighting up, his eyebrows raising in animated fashion. "You don't have any idea, do you?" He laughed derisively. "Whatever else you may in fact be, Gihst, you are clearly out of your element in this," he said, his direct gaze narrowing as he stepped towards the Scot. "None," he said under his breath with menacing force, mere inches from Gihst's dog-like face. His entire persona was threatening in its ominous tones.

Gihst cast him a questioning furrow of his brow.

"There is no 'map' where we're going. This isn't some geographical 'cavern system', Gihst," Brother Stephen sneered, "I'm not even certain it cares to be mapped. Understand, this place is alive with the power of the stone. The castle, this little spit of a village, this place," he motioned outside with an outstretched hand, "persists because the stone wills it to!" He wheeled on the company once more. "You're not dealing with earth and geography here. You're dealing with the supernatural. It cares nothing for your laws of physics, for your petty science," he turned again to Gihst, "for your cold and hollow atheism and temerity of spirit!"

He was breathing hard now, his face flushed crimson. "What it wants...what this place, and the Stone needs...what it craves..."

And in that moment Brother Stephen's face froze up, as if an icy chill shot through and paralyzed him.

"... is your blood." He turned to Tansy and Thomas, "All of your blood. You're not getting through this alive without me. You're not finding the Stone without me. And even if you do, know this--"

"It wants you to. It hungers for the sanguine lust for treachery and violence in each of your veins. It hungers for vengeance and fulfillment, just as it has since it was first buried beneath this place all those centuries ago..."

"You must be ready to match its craving with your own fortitude and will!"

He turned back to Gihst, breathing hard, as if he gave a fiery sermon to a Puritanical congregation about the waiting pits of Hell.

"There is no map," he repeated through quietly growling words. "And nothing in my satchel will make any sense to your eyes. If you're truly set on this, we must make for a way into the caverns. While there is the path into the castle, there are indications that other entrances may be open to us."

The sky remained overcast outside, and for a moment, the ground felt as though it shifted unnaturally...

…Gihst tightened his lips behind his fingers from where he had rested his chin upon a thumb – a gypsy, Jekyll n’ Hyde, and an arrogant head case. “…ye’aer implying the caverns aer alive?” He ventured, dubious. Then, he paused -- religion and science were not divorced according to personal doctrine. God was no more ridiculous than the ‘Big Bang Theory’, nor the idea of spontaneous breath of life. Should God actually exist, then ‘science’ was simply the order He created to keep everything in perfect, perpetual motion. And after all that had occurred, there was no certain way he could truly judge where the line between fact or fiction was drawn easily --…

…he allowed a steady sigh to exit through his nose. “…Ah’m nae solid on that claim, Brother,” Gihst began. “Ah’ll bring ye tae the entrance Ah mentioned, n’ whether cavern or a livin’ hell, ye’ll be the one tae lead us on...”

Tansy shifted her weight from one foot to the other, feeling very uncomfortable. Just when she thought the priest couldn't get any spookier, he goes off like that about blood and caves and blood...the girl felt an urgent need to escape.

"Well then can we get going?" she snapped, her discomfort manifesting itself into anger behind her words. "I mean, that sounds like the best place to start to me, too. Even if the ground is moving... or whatever... and if the stone won't appear until nightfall, we could at least get to where it will be when it does come out, right?"

“…nae tae rash naew,” Gihst interjected gently. “We’hae naught slept n’ all there is tae do aet there is sit on our asses. This house is safer - hidden, no wild animals, aet o’ the weather; n’ whin the time comes tae head back intae the caves, we’ll need our energy. Ah suggest we rest here ‘til then.”

Brother Stephen watched all of their expressions before replying. He wasn't interested in staying with the group, but...

...he also knew the importance of bringing a...higher purpose to the lives of those around him. He smirked ever so slightly, shifted his eyes, and nodded.

"You're right. All of you will need to take rest for the trials to come. I myself am rested, so I shall keep watch and study my texts in preparation for what we will face tonight." He nodded with an affirmation of purpose. "Agreed?"

Tansy frowned. Yes, she was tired, ridiculously so. But was it wise for all three of them to go to sleep while just Stephen stayed up without supervision? What was more, were they supposed to sleep on the ground? She glanced at Thomas, then to Gihst. "Whatever you think, boys," she said in a grumble.

[~N~]

Some music Maestro Powell, if you please (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t53cOiXkyRA&feature=related).
*****************************************
DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 7:30 AM - 7:30 PM
LOCATION: Petra's Cafe --> Bran Castle --> The Tunnels Beneath...

A child came into Petra's a short time later and got the attention of the otherwise pre-occupied Catholic priest. He seemed rather bothered by something and soon the priest, a younger looking man who appeared to be in his 30's rose from his booth and followed the child out. None of this went unnoticed by Gerald Brassier who--with narrowing eyes--followed their departure.

Sandler was still in the middle of stuffing his face, and Garrus just about choked on his coffee when Brassier stood up suddenly from the table, pushing his chair back so quickly that it clanged with a rude awakening into the back of a customer sitting close behind him. "Hey! Watch--" the gentleman complained in Romanian while turning around, but Brassier was already on the move, snapping his fingers and motioning for his other two agents to drop what they were doing and follow him immediately.

"Bumf I'm not fimmished wiff ma ba--" Sandler whined, talking with a mouth full of food. Garrus grumbled, "Come on..." dragging his comrade away from the table with a half-eaten bagel sticking out of his mouth.

Brassier pushed ahead through the thick tide of arriving customers pushing into the cafe, knocking a few of them aside with muttered complaints and indignant looks as he shoved his way past them like fullback. In the next moment, he nearly burst out into the street, looking left and right, only to see the dark robes of the priest disappear into another throng of people. Fighting against the tide with more tenacity than a salmon, he threaded and shoved past the oncoming crowds only to lose sight of the priest disappearing into the woods surrounding the town. His two cohorts caught up with him moments later still shaken up by their interrupted breakfast.

"What is it, boss?" Garrus asked, huffing, glancing about.

Brassier stared hard into the treeline with a narrowed, unwavering gaze, remaining silent.

"Boss?" Sandler asked.

"Nothing," Brassier muttered under his breath, exhaling through his nostrils.

"Nothing?!" Sandler exclaimed. "I damned near choked on my bagel and raced out here past all those people for 'nothing'?!"

This drew a fiery look from the FBI director who granted him his answer: "I've seen that priest before."

"Where?"

"Around."

"Well, yeah, I mean, it's not like this area isn't steeped in Roman Catholicism or anything," Garrus replied, rolling his eyes.

"I'm going to choose to ignore that comment for now, Agent Garrus," Brassier said with a razor-sharp tone in his voice. "Let's go," he growled, turning around in the opposite direction, stalking off with the crowd instead of against.

"Where to now?" Sandler questioned with a weariness in his voice.

"The Castle, genius," Brassier answered, "We still have work to do."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thirty minutes of walking brought them to the gate. For all intents and purposes, they were not the same three men who were unceremoniously ushered from the castle halls yesterday.

"Passes?" asked the guard posted at the door, speaking Romanian and then English when it appeared that these three "tourists" didn't understand what he wanted in his native tongue. Clad in casual clothing, complete with dyed hair and mustaches and beards that concealed their clean-shaven federal agent appearance, and carrying almost none of the weaponry they had with them before, Brassier, Sandler, and Garrus obtained admission with their passes, bought for them by a local operative. "Enjoy your visit to Bran Castle!"

The three were ushered into a tour group and proceeded to shuffle along with the mixed crowd of nationalities that ranged from an 86-year old widow to a 12-year old boy. The tour guide was a blonde in her twenties who obviously spoke multiple languages as she addressed the group in Romanian, English, Russian, and a few others. While forced to "play along" with the tour, Brassier was relieved that she had not encountered the agents on the previous day, and therefore had no reason to suspect them or recognize them.

When the tour passed by the long stretch near the hidden entrance to the tunnels, Brassier sprang into action, sliding up against the wall and motioning to Sandler to start choking (something he was becoming increasingly experienced at). Sandler moved to the other side of the tour group deftly and started hacking up a lung. Simultaneously, Brassier broke the bolt free holding the door closed and slide inside and down the spiral staircase.

The tour guide glanced back at the choking agent in disguise with a look of genuine concern and asked if he was alright, to which he waved with his hand in a kind of haphazard "I'm okay" motion that disarmed her worry after the hacking fit stopped. Smiling, he thanked her for her concern and said he was ready to proceed. The tour moved on, and after a few steps, Sandler ducked back and disappeared into the stairwell with Brassier and Garrus.

The earthen tunnels were still dank, and perhaps heavier with the scent of blood and decay than before. The thickness of it made it actually difficult to breathe and Garrus rubbed his throat, muttering, "Christ it stinks in here. You think whatever's down here is still... down here?" he inquired of his leader.

"Whatever's down here is still down here, for certain," Brassier replied, the stench lying upon his tongue like revolting perfume.

"Boss," Sandler inquired in hushed tones, "What does this place have to do with Tansy? And what the fuck is down here that we're going to find?"

"More to the point," Garrus added, covering his mouth and muffling his voice with a rag, "How the fuck are we we going to handle it if we find it?"

"I've got that taken care of," Brassier stopped and smirked at them, handing them each a shiny new means of "crowd-control."

"How?" came Garrus's immediate question with complete surprise written all over his face.

"Shhh," Brassier hushed him with a finger to his lips. "You don't think this is the first time I've honestly gotten past the detectors armed, do you?"

"Well, I know I feel more comfortable," Sandler smiled.

Brassier raised his hand and closed it in a gesture that commanded silence from them. He stalked forward like a cat in a brand new environment, each step a cautious one taken with a moment of quiet hesitation, his eyes scanning the walls. Several more steps and five minutes later he asked the question burning in his mind:

"Does any of this look familiar to you?"

Sandler and Garrus glanced at one another and back at Brassier. Blinking, they scanned the walls.

"Well, it has to be, right, boss?" Garrus replied, his tone conveying anything but certainty.

"What... the... fuck..." Sandler wondered aloud, his eyes moving over the now very alien structure of the earthen tunnels. Finding his train of thought, he asked again, "What the fuck is going on here, boss?"

"I don't know..." Brassier responded, his eyes joining those of the agents at his left and right flanks in peering about.

Where before the tunnel took a left turn and then ascended slightly, now the passage veered right, and quite clearly descended into a gloomy darkness after a slight rise. In addition, as Brassier flicked on a flashlight that revealed a misty fog hanging about the fetid air of the passages, it seemed as if the walls themselves were slick and damp with some kind of... dark condensation.

Not altogether unexpected inside a cavernous tunnel, but when Brassier stepped up with the same cautious composure to the walls and rubbed his finger along their surface, the illumination of his flashlight clearly revealed his finger to be covered in dark crimson.

"Fuckin-A..." Sandler gasped, "What the fuck is that..."

Brassier narrowed his eyes and tasted the substance. "Coppery," he muttered.

"You're fucking kidding me..." Garrus responded with hushed tones, his eyes considerably wider. "This place is fucked up, boss."

"We've seen worse, and we've dealt with worse, Agent Garrus. We're the X-files division. This is what we're here for. We're in the right place, and that bitch and whoever she was with was here too."

"You sure you want to go further? Shouldn't we call in some backup?" Sandler quivered.

Brassier shot a withering reprimanding look at him. "No. We go forward. You're either with me now, or you can resign that fucking badge and get your memory wiped, Agent Sandler. I don't care what's down here. Whatever it is, we've got weapons to handle it, and what these won't do, good old fashioned blunt trauma will." His eyes, full of purpose and determination, shifted from Sandler to Garrus.

"Let's go."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 8:30 AM - 4:30 PM
LOCATION: An abandoned shack somewhere further back within the woods surrounding the town.

Brother Stephen opened up the heavy leather tome that looked at a glance like a worn, ancient scrapbook of mementos, scraps of letters, articles and newspaper clippings, and various other sundry items pasted and flattened out on each of the heavy, rough-edged pages. His lips were moving in the hushed chant of Latin that permeated every breath he took. His eyes flitted with his fingertips over the markings, the diagrams, the illustrations and the ink-stained pages that described in detail something straight out of occult ritual.

Towards noon, the sky darkened even more, causing a chill of alarm and uneasiness to sweep through the town that sat in the shadow of Bran Castle. The shadows at mid-day made the day unwholesomely unnatural to any who would have resisted that thought until now. But it was not the darkness that concerned the priest...

... it was the sound of whuffing and intermittent growls and roars that rose in volume and faded just as fast. The shambling of a large beast approaching the cabin could be heard from within, and Brother Stephen stood up, keeping the tome in his left hand open while wrapping his fingers around the cross and rosary that hung around his neck. Raising them up off his neck and around his head, he held them out at arm's length in front of him as he walked slowly to the door of the cabin. The chanting of his lips took on an impassioned cadence that steadily grew in volume and intensity as though he was beginning the Exorcism ritual, and through the cabin windows, the massive shape of a beast could be seen emerging from the trees surrounding the cabin...

[Ad Infinitum]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 12:30 PM — 4:30 PM; "Midday"
LOCATION: An abandoned shack somewhere further back within the woods surrounding the town.


"Deus, in nómine tuo salvum me fac,

et virtúte tua age causam meam.

Deus, audi oratiónem meam;

áuribus pércipe verba oris mei.

Nam supérbi insurréxunt contra me, et violénti quasiérunt vitam meam;

non proposuérunt Deum ante óculos suos.

Ecce, Deus ádjuvat me,

óminus susténtat vitam meam.

Retórque malum in adversários meos,

et pro fidelitáte tua déstrue ilos.

Voluntárie sacrificábo tibi,

celebrábo nomen tuum, Dómine, quia bonum est.

Nam ex omni tribulatióne eripuit me,

et inimícos meos confúsos vidit óculos meus..."

Brother Stephen's chant continued on, unabated and unwavering in spite of the sudden crackle of lightning and the house-shuddering thunder that boomed after, as if heaven itself was resounding with the proclamation of his words in this dark hour. All was as dark as dusk outside at mid-day, and the crash and roar of a beast approaching could be heard from within the dilapidated cabin. An antique vase slid off a ledge and crashed to the floor, shattering what was left of the peace inside the rotting sanctuary, only to be followed by ear-piercing shrieks that erupted from the surrounding forest.

Such was the darkness outside the lumbering, slavering form of the approaching beast could not be determined, though the air grew fetid with the heavy odor of decaying flesh as it drew near. The winds shook the ramshackle cabin and howled their fury, drowning out some of the Latin verses Brother Stephen was chanting in their horrid chorus...

Tansy awoke with a start at the sound of the vase crashing to the floor. The cacophony of storming skies and growling creatures hadn't been enough to make the girl stir up until that point (her father always had joked that she could sleep through an earthquake), but glassware tumbling from a shelf and landing only a foot from her head was enough to wake the dead.

Her wide eyes swiveled around the dirty cabin as she was suddenly assaulted with waves of sound from all directions. The howling wind, crashing lightning...the priest was chanting and something...something was outside.

Panic set in, and Tansy scrambled to a sitting position, drawing her legs to her chest and pushing her back to the wall. Her first thought was to fly up through the hole in the ceiling. But that would mean leaving her friends behind...

"Thomas! Gihst!" she instead called to her companions without taking her eyes from the treacherous Brother Stephen. Something was outside, and he was calling to it! She knew they shouldn't have left him alone while they all slept! "Stop him before that thing gets any closer!"

"—Jesus,” a ragged voice followed the loud smash that shattered the stagnant blackness. Then something shuffled over the hardwood floor, some earthenware fragments popping and grinding beneath a weight with a crackle; and there was another, even smaller sound: a rattling whistle—something alike to a kettle, but interrupted—that was muffled over a moment later by breaking thunder. The quaking lightning brought forth two vivid eyes that bloomed bloomed green in tempo, and from those eyes that voice came once again:

“…ne’er ye’mind him—” Gihst reassured her, his shadowy form squatted beside the windowsill. There was a clink and a teardrop flame quivered to life, the hollows of his downcast face sketched in dusky orange as he puffed a cigarette into a smolder. He grimaced, and the flame winked out, his tightened chest finally choking out a wretched cough from his hunched frame. “—th’man is praying,” he paused as that resuming whistle reined back his attention…

There was a draft trickling through the cracks in the soapy glass window, and from there crawled that miasmic odor. He sneered around his cigarette, breathing in the smell with a softened hiss through his off-white teeth:

A dreadful vestige flickered past his inward eye—a great, terrible head with oil-bead eyes, splitting open with the echo of a gurgling bellow, decay clinging to the saliva-silvered wrinkle of its purple-black lips and yellowed teeth. His instincts spooked, which surfaced as little more than a huff through his nose. He knew the aged-oily piss stench of a bear.

“…try tae stay calm,” Gihst murmured, reaching for the Colt hidden beneath his overcoat in the waist of his denims. “It may’gae spooked from our smell…”

"It?" Tansy repeated, her voice a whisper through dry lips. More audible was the moan that came along with it. Thomas was at her side, of course, and he gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, but the girl shrugged it off. What was this it?

She pushed herself to her feet and on legs that felt like they were made of water, she crossed the room towards Gihst. She threw a scowl at Brother Stephen. Praying. They were about to be attacked by some crazy creature, and he was praying. He didn't wake them up, didn't go for a gun. He prayed. Damn religious nut. He would have gotten them all killed if it wasn't for all the noise that woke them up.

Tansy paused, just behind Gihst, following his eyes out the window. She hadn't missed his movement to the back of his pants. Despite his hushed voice, his actions were telling enough. They weren't safe.

A trembling hand rose to rest only briefly on Gihst's forearm as Tansy sought his eyes in the dark cabin. It was a slight movement that only lasted a few seconds, but she couldn't find the words to express the comfort she hoped to give. The girl had no weapon, and really no sense in these sorts of situations. But she was there with him, and Thomas and Stephen. Maybe that counted for a little something.

Gihst paused, and that unexpected touch brought those eyes over his shoulder; they bloomed once more, gave an iridescent glimmer, and then winked out when he looked away. Somehow, from beyond those nightmarish and numbing unknowns around them, that touch brought reprieve—the world once again taking on a more human atmosphere: physical, real, and something he could definitely understand. Here was someone more frightened, frailer than himself—and much as the stricken solider down in the trench, shell-shocked and heavy-hearted, will fall to consider those remaining beside him, Gihst offered what assurance he could: “...Ah’m here—”

The glass exploded in from one of the two front facing windows all at once, sending shards of glass scything through the dusky air inside the cabin. A few of them hit Tansy, Thomas, and Gihst, though, because of how they shot inwards, they avoided Brother Stephen who was standing more behind the door. The rest of the pieces clattered to the floor, bringing brittle tinkling sounds upon the old wood floor to the howl of the winds that blasted into the cabin, blowing hair and clothes back.

This weather was anything but natural, but that wasn't news. Things had been getting less natural from the beginning of this day by the hour. And amidst the maddening wind that blew through the ramshackle shack, Brother Stephen's chanting continued unabated.

Outside, the shape of the beast grew larger. It seemed as if to rear up, fully twice the size of a man, and reeking of a stench of blood and death. Coming forward, it slammed against the cabin with such force that it felt as if the entire structure would give out and come down around them. And yet it held for the moment--wavering and creaking.

That's when he stopped and shouted towards his three companions. "Tansy, Thomas, and Gihst, we must get out of here! This beast--"

At that moment, the shambling, roaring creature shook the cabin again. Swiveling his head to see its dirty, deadly claws reaching through the window, Brother Stephen gasped and backed quickly away, clutching his cross tight in front of him.

"--is not of this world! I sense a possession about it, caused by the dark energies of this foul day! We must escape! I know where a hidden entrance to the tunnels might be, but we must go now, before we cannot see what is in front of us--"

The cabin creaked and buckled horribly, the remaining rotting beams of the roof snapping and warping...

"--or behind! Let us go now, before this entire place caves in!" With that, he swept his robes around him and made for the rear of the cabin without waiting for their consent. The horrific claws of the creature broke through the frame of the window and now it came forward, crashing into the cabin.

Gihst was knocked from the chaos by the agonizing groaaan-pop-pop of the ceiling above; and with a slow and splintering crack, a center beam twisted, lurched, and wedged tight as the ceiling pinioned it precariously in place with a great jump, showering the air with roiling dust. As he looked to that beam, an absolutely insane idea circled, came around, and then found firm purchase on his resolve.

At that point, he was ready to try any damn thing. “Tansy,” Gihst said and stood, so very slow, his eyes leveled on the rousing bear. “Take Fynn n’ go with Brother Stephen,” his words crept out just as cautious as the smooth, sidelong strides that carried him across the creaky floorboards, splintered glass and pottery crunching beneath his boots. “Dinnae run, or he’ll hae us—slowly naew. Go.”

"But...wh—" Tansy stammered in terrified bewilderment. Her words never found their way past her tongue, however, as Thomas was pulling her to her feet. It seemed the man was all too anxious to take Gihst's advice. The girl hesitated for another split second before allowing herself to be lead to the door. And there alone, Gihst stood between the great beast and the exit, his shuddering breath breaking in vapory wreathes.

There had been no sense in wounding or spooking the bear with a hot bullet; being as there was nowhere for it to retreat, it would have most certainly charged had he made the mistake. Gihst drew a metal hip flask from inside an inner pocket of his overcoat, unscrewed the cap, and lit the open mouth with his Zippo, peppering the air with the pungent smell of burning whiskey.

He could not trust that the .45 Colt would drop the brute dead where it stood. The massive silhouette of the bear blotted out the square glow of the window, and as those small eyes found him with a cold glimmer, Gihst felt the hair on his nape rise to press against his collar.

There had been no chance of them outrunning the bear without a casualty, and there would be no way of throwing it off their trail even if they had managed. A sudden, heavy wuff came from the bear as it threw a great buck of its front quarters, those huge paws slamming back to the floorboards, which shuddered and groaned in protest; but when Gihst remained motionless, it hesitated…

This was the only chance in hell they had. The bear mocked a charge. On reflex, Gihst snapped out the flask, spreading a stream of liquid fire in a great arc that fell into a wavering line across the floor, goading the great animal to spook backwards, bewildered by the sudden light and heat.

Above, the sudden squeak-squeak-squeak of wood against wood came as the center beam finally began to dislodge, and Gihst threw himself forward. Once, twice he threw his weight into his heel with a great kick against the weakened beam, which—with a loud crack—altogether groaned, slipped sideways, and brought the ceiling down with it as it began to fall. And then the bear surged forward.

Gihst let out a shout, back-pedaling, stumbling, and then tumbling to his palms as his boots grated for purchase on the dusty floor before he shot into a dash, swearing he felt that hot and humid breath just barely brush his scalp. He breeched into the hallway, the roar of the enraged beast behind him swallowed by the heart-knocking crash of the collapsing ceiling, followed by the near immediate break of the floor as the crushing weight forced everything on a hell-ride straight down into the cellar. The final thing he felt was the sudden stop as his shoulder collided with the backdoor…

The shadowy silhouettes of the three other figures, of Brother Stephen, of Tansy and Thomas, watched as the shack crackled and shook, smoked out its dying breaths and began crumbling. The winds blew through their clothes and hair wildly, fanning the flames from within with unnatural power. The fiery tongues flickered and swam higher and higher around the structure, and from within, shouts and cries could be heard. *Crash!* *Pop!* *Snap!* *BOOM!* It sounded as if a great battle raged inside--the Beast and Gihst locked in a fiery struggle to the death. And when the roof came down, and ash and smoke poured from the house like a great dying exhalation, it was only then that they saw the singed and blackened form of their companion upon the soot-covered ground.

Within the collapsing structure, a mighty roar shook through the crackling, burning walls, and the commotion of breaking wood and smashing supports could be heard and felt.

The Beast...was not dead...

Tansy stepped toward the remains of the shack without hesitation, but a sharp tug at her wrist made her pause.

"Are you crazy?" Tom asked, panic lining his voice. "There's no time for this!"

Her answer was a sharp glare before Tansy wrenched her arm from the doctor's hand. "Fucking coward," she mumbled, closing the gap between herself and the wreckage in a few long strides.

The building had been reduced to sharp edges and orange flames, and Tansy teetered at its edge in concern. Her eyes were locked on Gihst, real concern for their companion making them wide and watery. But she wore sandals and was unsure of how to cross the rubble without tearing her feet apart.

Tansy's cheeks reddened. Just when she had claimed Tom was a coward, she was nervous of a few cuts?

"Gihst!" she yelped as she gingerly began to make her way closer. "GIHST! Please be okay!"

“…ne’er been better,” gasped a low, choking voice. Gihst had been spilled in a tumble across the overgrown lawn when the door had snapped open like a popped cork, and now, he hoisted himself to standing, his face a fearful mask of blood, soot, and sweat. That statement had clearly been some soured sarcasm.

"We must go, and go now," Brother Stephen breathed hard. "Get him if you wish, but we must move. That...thing...is likely to come out at any second..." His eyes, glowing eerily in the firelight with inner flames of their own, glared hard at Tansy and Thomas before he turned back to the form of Gihst. "MOVE!" he commanded. And when Gihst saw those eyes, he paused:

Issac Braeburn looked up when he had finally spoken, those harsh green eyes crackling. He remembered saying: ‘Ah’m naething like ye,’ and Issac had only smiled at him—fucking smiled—the intake of his breath hissing before his voice returned, stinking of offal: ‘—nae yet.’

Something rotten with anger rolled in its slumber within his stare, and then the he looked away. “...Brother Stephen,” Gihst husked, his tone determinedly wooden. “Gae us tae that damned cave…”

[~N~]

Welcome to my very special nightmare (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CD-E-LDc384).
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 4:30 PM--???
LOCATION: Running for your lives from the fire into the bowels of darkness...

The skies darkened further and flashed with glowing bursts of crimson and clouds billowed and lowered into a phantasmal fog that blanketed the lands in a suffocating thickness. This was not the weather of the world and it was not just the Bloodstone's awakening that caused this, but a greater sentience... a Thing that had slept for countless centuries... restlessly coalescing into a coherence undreamt of through strange eons.

It was an awareness... of the coming together... and somewhere... deep in the ocean... a tremor shook the world...

"THIS WAY!" Brother Stephen shouted, his voice barely recognizable, like his form, which was even now cloaked so heavily in the choking thick fog that he was but a shadow in their midst. The winds howled around them, acquiring gusts that would've matched a tropical storm, but these carried their own madness with them in the form of seething whispers that slithered into each of their minds pulling at the threads of their sanity, contrasted with tortured shrieks bubbling over with pain and suffering.

The priest did not slow down to see if his company was following. Clutching his tome tightly, he knew, that at the very worst, this storm would rid him of those who would no doubt take from him what he desired for himself. So let the winds and the carnage and the gaping hell of this place swallow them in its terror--he would see to it that he acquired his prize, alone, if necessary.

The glow of the burning shack was but a blue in the distance behind them, one that did little to light their way, but Brother Stephen was quite a bit more acquainted with the blinding darkness than some may have had reason to assume... Pulling forth the bound and chained tome of Father Francis in his hands, he shielded it as well as possible against the screaming winds, and, tracing his finger over the the symbolic letters of a certain page--letters written long ago, from another culture--he felt the pull of his intuition guide his steps further. He had only to trust the forces locked within the tome to find what he so desperately sought. Their awakening power was palpable. Even two days ago he would not have felt their presence half so well, but here and now, in the center of this growing storm, they throbbed from the page through his body and into his temples.

He pushed on, shutting the tome and holding his hand before his face to shield his eyes. The winds battled around him, whipping his dark robes here and there, but on he struggled, gritting his teeth and fighting the malevolent forces that strove not to keep him from his goal, but simply to tear him apart. He felt the very breath of his lungs sucked out each time he gasped, each time he strove forward, pushing against the invisible fury of the forces arrayed against him. He did not know how much longer he could last, his body shaking with fatigue and deprivation...

And there, beyond the veil of this storm, was a dark, dank passage that yawned open...

"We're here!" he mouthed breathlessly. He strained to say it aloud, but the breath was gone from his throat before it even reached his mouth. "We're here!" he silently strained to scream again, to no avail. It was as if an iron fist had clamped around his throat and squeezed the voice from him at every attempt. With a shaking body, he struggled further forward, his legs threatening to give out.

In a moment, he collapsed to his knees, his shivering body crawling now towards his forbidden goal. A fetid stench of rotten blood and flesh assaulted his senses, pungently forcing itself into his breath and lungs. He choked, gagging and coughing on the unholy strength of this repulsive exhalation that reeked from the cavern entrance. Crawling forward like an undying corpse, Brother Stephen lunged headlong into the mouth of the cavern, only to find its surface pungent and slippery. Before he could react, his momentum carried him past the point of no return as he lost his balance and plummeted into the bleak depths of this unnatural cavern.

Landing with a muffled, yet bruising *smack* upon the bottom of the cavern floor, he groaned with pain, feeling his body wracked by the blunt trauma that seared through his frame. His arm throbbed, and he held it, wincing. Upon rolling back his sleeve and seeing a lump of bone protruding from his skin, he knew it was severely fractured. He sucked in the pain through his teeth, shutting his eyes tight and trying to mentally block the resonating agony that pulsed now up his right arm.

With his left hand, he focused... and snapped his fingers, bringing a flickering eerie flame to life. Glancing around him, he saw the walls slick with crimson liquid, seemingly shifting and moving--though this could've been a trick of the flame and shadow play upon their surface. Still, Brother Stephen saw no reason to think otherwise. The cavern was far from natural...

Slowly recovering, he turned until he spotted a passageway deeper into the cavern system. Glancing back up at the almost pitch black ceiling, somewhere where above where the maw of the cavern yawned into the stormy night. He would wait a few moments for his... "companions"... before turning to the goal of his endeavors personally and alone...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 4:30 PM--???
LOCATION: Exploring the Cavern system beyond the boundaries of this world...

Agent Garrus glanced down with his flashlight illuminating his watch. Knitting his brow, he tapped the glass a couple times with his finger.

"Son of a bitch..."

"What?" Sandler replied, stopping dead in his tracks. "See something?" This "cavern" they were now boldly (yet foolishly to his mind) trekking through at behest of their boss had long ago begun its work on Agent Sandler's nerves and respiration. With his mouth now covered in a makeshift mask torn from his shirt he turned and shined his flashlight unwittingly directly into the eyes of Agent Garrus, momentarily blinding him.

"Damn!" Garrus replied, shielding his eyes and backing away in irritation.

"Sorry," Sandler apologized, lowering the light. "What is it?"

"My watch. Givin' me some kind of error message. Piece of junk," Garrus replied with disgust.

"Huh," his partner replied, inclined to check his own watch now. Squinting, he saw the same thing... something he had never seen before on his watch... a flashing "Err" message instead of the time. "Mine's malfunctioning too!"

One watch was understandable, but two? Agent Brassier glanced down at his own, pulling back his sleeve and shining his flashlight on it. He was greeted with a similar flashing "Err". "What the...?"

"Yours busted too, boss?" Sandler questioned with a worried tone.

"Yeah, seems like it," Brassier acknowledged, tapping the screen. He looked up and glanced around, breathing through his own makeshift mask. His eyes scanned the walls. "None of this is normal..." he muttered.

"You're telling me," Garrus affirmed through the cloth covering his mouth.

"Better arm yourselves with these," Brassier insisted, tossing two shining clips to each of them.

The two agents smiled and happily replaced their current clips with the new ones.

No sooner did they do that than Agent Sandler saw TJ Hunt standing behind Garrus, raising his own firearm ready to blast the agent's skull wide open. "DOWN!" Sandler shouted, raising his pistol at his partner who, eyes wide, ducked in terrified reaction to Sandler's aim.

*BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!* The shots rang out and blasted into the oozing wall of the cavern, causing the entire system to shake and moan with unnerving sounds, as though it was alive and freshly wounded.

"Jesus Christ, Sandler!" Garrus cried out after rolling and drawing his weapon only to find nothing there. Eyes wide, aiming this way and that and still crouching, he glanced at his partner in confusion: "What the fuck is your problem?!"

"I saw one of them behind you!" Sandler cried out, hysterical, desperately pointing to nothing but thin air and the bleeding cavern wall.

"Agent Sandler," Gerald Brassier questioned in an authoritative tone, "Can you handle this or not." It was more critical and than questioning, and demanded an affirmative response from the agent.

Shaking, unable to understand what he had just seen, he replied in uncertain tones, "Y-y-yes-s-s-s... s-s-sir..." He filled his lungs with a difficult breath, "Y-yes... I'll... I'll steady myself, sir."

"You better," Brassier replied in the same rock-solid tone.

"Director!" Garrus cried out, seeing Tansy James seemingly emerging from the shadows behind Brassier, "it's her!"

Brassier spun around, aiming his weapon. But nothing was there.

"Christ... what the hell is going on here?!" he growled.

"I swear..." Garrus apologized, seeing the apparition vanish, "Tansy was right there!"

"This cave is fucking with our heads..." Sandler whined.

"Pull yourselves together, and start acting like professionals, Agents Sandler and Garrus!" Brassier barked at them. "I will not have both of you becoming a liability when we need to keep our heads on this mission!"

Brassier turned around to face forward again, suddenly hearing voices up ahead, and light flickerings. "Shhh!" he raised his hand. "I think someone's up in the passage ahead!" he informed them in a hushed voice.

The two other agents peered around, scoping out the passage for themselves, not hearing or seeing anything. "Sir..." Garrus replied.

"SHHH!" Brassier waved him off with a hand, creeping forward stealthily.

"I don't see or hear anythin'," Sandler replied in a hushed whisper.

"Me neither," remarked Garrus.

"Think the boss is losin' it too?"

"You're going to lose more than your mind if you don't shut the fuck up!" Brassier growled back. "If it's nothing, it's nothing, but we need to be sure!"

The three agents crept slowly forward, guided by their leader who even now wondered at the credibility of his own senses.

If the cavern was having an effect on their minds... what was causing it? And would their quarry suffer as well?

[Ad Infinitum]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: 4:30PM—???
LOCATION: ???



“…if Ah didnae knaew better Ah’d think he’s tryin’ tae shake us aff—” that distinguishing sardonic idiom carried more bite then as the Scotsman struggled to trail Brother Stephen, unable to choke down the increasing severity of his cough. Twice Brother Stephen had been swallowed by the fog and trembling shadows, and had Gihst been sluggish, he was confident he would have lost the priest. And albeit normally agile, he bore the ball and chain of ensuring his other companions had not fallen behind; he stalled only a moment and turned in place to glance back, his voice coughed hoarse: “come by—“ he trailed off when he circled back around. Brother Stephen was running blind into an open cavern ahead…

“—wait,” Gihst barked, staggering. “Jist wait a second…!” Then cursing, the Scotsman broke into a full sprint and—

—his outstretched hand snatched empty air, boots squeaking across slick stone before he went skidding onto his back; he had only just managed to avoid following Brother Stephen over the edge, the knuckles of his right hand white around a jagged contour in the rock. In the stunned silence punctuated by the echo of settling debris, Gihst closed his eyes and scowled. “—damn…!”

Tansy had been only a few steps behind Gihst and Brother Stephen, but she had hardly been able to see them through the dense fog. It was fortunate her Scottish companion had been careful to keep from getting too far ahead. There were many times when she couldn't see Stephen at all.

She came to a quick halt when the dark entrance to the caves suddenly came into view to find Gihst leaning precariously into it, but no priest was in sight.

"What happe—Oh my GOD."

The smell of the place was absolutely overwhelming. Her lungs were burning from the run, limbs were trembling, sweat running into her eyes, but it was breathing in that dead air that made her stomach churn and her head dizzy. Acid rose in her throat, but the girl managed to choke it down with a cough.

Ignoring the fact that she had no strength left at all, Tansy gripped Gihst's coat and tugged him weakly backwards from the cavern. The sound of feet moving uneasily from behind made her aware that her American beau had made it through the fog as well.

“Brither Steph—“ but his call was strangled out. Gihst pulled that old handkerchief from his pocket and tied it over his face like an outlaw, a bare cringe wrinkling his brow; a growl fought off the threatening nausea.

"What happened?" Thomas gasped, but Tansy ignored him. Her watery blue eyes remained focused on the cave.

"How are we going to follow him without breaking our necks?"

“…rope—” Gihst coughed. “—bought some last in taewn thinkin’ we might end up back here…“ The Scot brought out a coiled bundle of fibre rope from his messenger bag and stood; a timber hitch was tied around the nearest pine, and he braced his boot to the tree and pulled to tighten the knot, then added another elbow loop below for good measure. The remaining bundle was heaved over and down into the chasm with a distinctive flumph from below, and Gihst lowered himself over the ledge.

Cough. “Cannie oan th’way daewn—th’walls aer slick.” Then he rappelled downward.

Tansy nodded in acknowledgement, whether Gihst could see her or not. She watched her companion descend into the rank cave, considered the rope thoughtfully for a moment, then turned sharply to Thomas.

"Take off your shirt," she said.

The man looked shocked. "What?!"

But the glare Tansy gave him showed that she was not in the mood for questions, and Thomas reluctantly did as he was told. Once removed, the girl tore it into two large strips and tied one around her face the way Gihst had his handkerchief. It didn't exactly smell good, as the doctor's cologne had worn off long ago. Sweat filled her nostrils, and that typical scent of man, the smell one can't describe, but every girl knows as soon as she breathes it in. It was much better than the putrid smell steaming out of the cave.

Makeshift mask in place, Tansy carefully followed the Scot down into the unknown, with Thomas again bringing up the rear.



Gihst touched down. Nothingness, a blurred grey nonsense, and then a weak halo of warm illumination brought sight; Brother Stephen was alive, huddled around his unknown bead of light.

“…hae ye’lost thy damned mind—?“ He broke off and coughed against the back of his hand. “Ye could’hae been killed—“
Then he hesitated inside, pausing. Brother Stephen held no match, no lighter, but a bare teardrop of flame…

…cough. Cough, cough. Gihst retched. A grimace touched his eyes from beneath his bandana mask, and he doubled over, clutching his midsection. His forearm met the bile yellow stone with a greasy squelch, and there he rested, his body heaving. Cracking a strangled growl, a blind hand fumbled for an inner coat pocket at his chest; he took out a small orange prescription bottle, poured five white tablets into a palm, and knocked them back dry.

“…ye’hae hurt thyself,” he grumbled around a swallowed breath, more subdued. “Let’s hae a look at it—”

…something slipped away from his forearm. Gihst froze, his eyebrows furrowing as he attempted to identify it: the thing had almost looked like some big, white spider……no, it had been a hand—alike to the hand of a small child there to console him. Gihst spooked, pushing off the wall and staggering backward.

“…did ye’see—“ the Scot gestured abstractedly at the barren wall. “—o’er here by th’wall…?”

"See what?" Tansy's voice was rising in a panic as she moved into Gihst's line of vision, trying to catch his eyes. No, no, no! was racing through her head over and over. The priest was a madman. Thomas, a coward. And while clever and daring, she herself certainly didn't have the experience or know-how to take care of herself in a god damned bloody cave. Gihst seemed to be the only person in the group who could not only keep his head, but seemed relatively capable of looking after the rest of them. She needed him to keep his sanity. "What did you see?"

Her eyes followed his stare to the wall, but the girl saw nothing.

“……hn,” Gihst shook his head, pocketing the orange bottle. “Naethin’—dinnae worry ‘baet it.” He chalked it up to disorientation—overloaded senses.

“…Fynn,” he said then. “Take a look at his arm, will ye’nae?” But when his rolling eyes found the doctor, he paused; Fynn was half-naked, and Tansy rather dispassionately wore what was left of his missing shirt over her face. Gihst scoffed, dulled mirth bringing a new shine to his molted features.

Brother Stephen sneered and it seemed for a moment that his eyes glowed malevolently with an unnatural fire. "I'll live," he retorted. "It's a compound fracture, and the bare-chested 'doctor' here is likely incapable of doing anything to help it besides advising me to wrap it to keep down the blood loss." He growled these words with sheer unpleasantness in his demeanor as he was doing the very thing he supposed he would be told to do.

Gihst scoffed through a sidelong flick of his head: “…hae it thy way,” he husked, then held up his open palms and took a step back. He was in no damned mood for his compassion to be deflected with soured pride.

"Besides, it seems to me," the priest added with a slight smirk, "that the contagion of this place has gone to your heads..." Suddenly his eyes went wide, and he nearly stumbled back against the wall, slumping against it awkwardly in a heap, but careful to keep his injured arm away from it. Breathing heavy, his eyes flitted to and fro, searching...searching...

And then he settled, breathing raggedly, as well as he could manage, given the foul vapors of the cavern. "It's this place...it's...him. His influence grows with the eclipse...blood-red lunar eclipse..."

He turned to his three companions, his eyes reflecting recognition of fear now, "Protect your minds...for this place..." and then he pulled up a hand that he had placed against the cavern wall for support into the light...slick with crimson... "...will claim your mind...and devour your soul..."

Whispers came from where the passage wound round to the left, inciting Brother Stephen to shush Thomas, Tansy, and Gihst. He didn't stop to wonder if they heard them too...

[Ad Infinitum]

DATE: August 21st, 2042
TIME: Approaching Midnight...
LOCATION: The Caverns...



Tansy hugged her arms, as if trying to keep as much of her body in the center of the cave as possible, away from the bleeding walls. Blue eyes frantically searched the dark tunnels and the ceiling, wet stone dancing with flickering light, trying to find the source of the whispers. At first she just heard a single word repeated over and over again.

Angel.

It seemed to be calling to her from the darkness. “Do you guys hear that?” she asked through a dry mouth. But it was clear from their expressions that they did. All of them heard something.

I don’t want to remember anymore. Help me!

Tansy remained frozen in place, afraid to look again at her companions, afraid of giving away that she knew who the whispers belonged to, with just that single word. Only one person had ever called her “angel”. The same one who had sent her on this crazy nightmare of a mission in search of the stone.

The stone, my angel! My stone!

"Shh! I hear whispers! Someone is coming!" Brother Stephen hissed at her, still favoring his injured arm. His eyes were wild and dancing with the same feverish lights that were in all of them.

And it was true...there were whispers...of a sort...of a nature...but were they the same? The madness in the cavern was as thick and palpable as the stench, and one would be hard-pressed to decide if it was in fact the stench, or the whispers, or the unsettled, unhinged sense of a loss of their sanity, their equilibrium that made them feel thus.

There were two ways from the passage they had fallen into: left or right. Brother Stephen heard whispers...approaching whispers...from the left. "We must go," he implored, releasing his hold on his injured arm to snatch his claw-like fingers around Tansy's arm. "We must go this way," he nodded off to the right, his eyes flashing momentarily back to her, thence to Gihst, thence to Dr. Fynn.

"We must go now."

The voices drew closer, echoing eerily off of oozing, pulsating walls that should have muffled rather than carried them in various phantom tongues. It was as if a chorus of damned spirits had awoken and begun repeating the mortal words they heard:

"We must go..."

"We must go now..."

"Something up ahead..."

"Someone..."

"Them?"

"Tansy..."

"Who else?"

"We must go..."

"Who else?"

"Something..."

"Someone..."

"Up ahead..."

"Them?"

"Tansy."

"We must go..."

"We must go..."

"Go...go...GO!" They screamed in maddening unison like inmates in an asylum. The trio of agents from the FBI quickened their pace towards the source of the emanating sounds, the voices, which rang out increasingly all around them, gibbering in echoes, chattering like the restless dead. The walls oozed, the suffocating stench damaged and daunted their senses, caused them to gasp and choke, see things as the walls...

...appeared to be spinning...spinning...spinning...

"Can't stop them...from spinning," Sandler gasped, his eyes rolling about, his steps stumbling as he pressed against the fleshy surface of the cavern walls. His fingers sank into the oozing, sticky crimson substance and it seemed as if it sighed as he had leaned his weight against it.

"Gah! It's alive, Director!" Sandler cried out, reeling again, stumbling from the walls, crashing into Garrus. "Where the fuck are we?!"

"Calm yourself!" Brassier growled. "They're here! Can't you hear them! I hear them! Come on!" But his two companions hesitated, their bodies uncontrollably shaking within the grip of terror; this place was altogether unnatural, not of this world...there was something very wrong happening here.

"Boss," Garrus gasped and swallowed, perspiration dripping down his face, "Boss, maybe...maybe we should wait...call for backup or something...some kind of...reinforcements..."

Brassier wheeled on them with eyes that burned in the fires of determination and indomitable will. "Reinforcements?" He questioned with narrowing eyes, "Reinforcements? Where exactly would you suggest we get these 'reinforcements' from, Agent Garrus? Do you see any other field agents around here? Perhaps you didn't notice that we have no signal in this godforsaken pit? Should we turn back? Perhaps we should just let Tansy and Dr. Fynn go after all? Maybe we should just call the whole thing off. Would you like that Garrus? How about you, Agent Sandler?" His withering glare fell upon both of them like a scorching sun.

"Sir, I..." Sandler barely managed to get his words back, paralyzed with fright not only from this hellish place, but from the seething ire of his Director standing before him. He could not manage the rest, and his head dropped.

"Garrus," he breathed at last.

"I'm here, Sandler."

"Help me up. We have to get going."

"Let's go. We've lost a step already," Brassier remorselessly added, turning to continue his pursuit.

"Fucking asshole's going to get us all killed down here," Sandler muttered under his breath.

"I agree with you buddy, but until we're calling the shots, we have to follow him wherever he takes us..." Garrus muttered in reply.

**********Meanwhile*************

Brother Stephen led the group with his eerie flame, Tansy, Dr. Fynn and Gihst following behind. Down the right tunnel they went, deeper into the cavern complex, further and further from the surface, from what light there could have been, from the natural world itself.

And after a length of time had passed, the cavern opened up ahead into a hollow with dancing shadows and shapes within and a pulsing crimson light glowing like a throbbing heart. As Brother Stephen cautiously approached, three sets of hands lunged out, barely missing Tansy and Gihst, but securely ripping Dr. Fynn back against the wall, binding him up in fleshy shackles. A blast of fetid, decaying air hit all of them in the face with an unholy voice carried upon its winds:

"Yesterday's Dragon shall live again! With your existence am I reborn!" An ominous, palpable presence could be felt ahead...ageless...undying...and sucking at whatever breath and courage they had as if it were supping upon their heat and blood...

Tansy screamed Thomas' name, but her fear seemed to root her feet to the sopping ground. This couldn't be happening. They should run. She could fly...

“Brither Stephen!” Gihst roared for guidance; his white bandana marred with blood thrown in the sudden blur of alien limbs. And cursing in fear and awe, he stopped cold as the omnipotent voice of the cavern itself broke over them. Every instinct had paralyzed him—but with a glance, then a growl to chase away his terror, he lunged after Fynn.

There were hundreds of things he’d come to not understand, and thousands more he could not control—but abandoning Fynn was something he could definitely understand, definitely control. All thought dribbled through his fingers and he was fighting, clawing, wringing, tearing at the living wall—but his attempt was futile; he was nothing save lean muscle and sinew, his strength little more than stubborn will against an iron wall. A man would sooner tear the stars down from the sky.

There was a sickening pop of bone, and Thomas convulsed, his agonized screams muffled beneath layers of coiled flesh.

Fynn was going to die. And upon a fierce pulse of desperation that sent Gihst reaching for the hilt of a kukri…

…that was when the cavern surface snapped forward; malformed hands slammed into his shoulders, and with a great heave, shoved him back. He snarled, bucking and straining, as the cavern’s fingers elongated, wormed, and anchored their hold. Then, with a hard pitch of his elbow, Gihst finally wrenched his kukri free and cleaved loose in a single arc of metal and blood—

“HOW DARE YOU.” All together screamed voices, loud, enraged, discordant voices.

—and some concussive force sent the blade spinning from his hand. Then the walls that enveloped Fynn gave one, final squeeze…

…a loud crunch brought fresh blood that speckled warm on his face, and Gihst flinched, his features frozen in a horrified grimace.

He cried out, and as sanity was starting to reassert itself, something struck him; like grotesquely frayed cords of reanimated muscle, the limbs of the living wall had gathered and rammed as one into his midsection like the fist of some lethargic giant. The cry became a retch, and Gihst was thrown clear, tumbling end over end until he slapped against the opposite wall.

"Get away from the wall!" Tansy yelled, her voice hoarse against her tight throat. Thoughts of flying away without her companions were quickly abandoned. At least, she couldn't leave Gihst. And there was still the stone...

For a moment, another regret crossed Tansy's mind as she remembered that Thomas had held their other gun. The thought was followed by a twinge of guilt for even thinking such a thing when her lover had just been destroyed in front of her.

She whirled on Brother Stephen, eyes wide in panic. "YOU got us in here," she barked. "DO SOMETHING!"

Brother Stephen's eyes seemed to glow for a moment with an inner fire, and then put his hands forth, incanting some kind of ritualized prayer...

...or was it practical magic of some sort? The flame he bore in his hand shot forth, singeing and crackling against the wall, eliciting shrieking squeals of pain and agony from the things within--or from the wall itself. The charred and blasted surface was blackened but writhed still like an oozing wound, burnt and scarred from the fire.

There was a deeper voice that spoke from further down the passage which echoed up to them from those stifling depths: "Thisss way. The sssstone you sssseeek issss thissss way!"

Brother Stephen's head turned 'round to face the direction of the unnatural voice, further down the slithering tunnel, and his breathing was noticeably heavier and more pronounced. His eyes darted to Gihst and then he turned to Tansy, and he moved his lips, as though to say something, but no words came forth. He then turned his gaze to Thomas, and taking a few cautious, hesitant steps towards his body, he knelt down, falling into a familiar ritual, and pronounced the last rites over the body.

This done, he rose and turned to Gihst, extending the open hand from his one good arm in an offer of help. "On your feet, Scotsman. We're not through yet."

Still recovering, Gihst cringed as he took Brother Stephen by the forearm, hoisting himself onto unsteady feet.

Turning thence to Tansy, Brother Stephen gazed for a moment into her eyes, illuminated as they were by the flickering light which had retreated back to his palm and muttered, "We are far from God's protection down here, but I will continue to do as I can," he answered her, responding to her earlier plea for action, "...but I cannot guarantee your protection. The Lord is our shepherd, and I may bear the burden of being yours, but you must summon the courage within yourself to fend off this darkness. I cannot do it for you."

His words had an edge to them; simultaneously, he conferred his protection and his admonishment to her. His message was clear: You must work out your own salvation; I cannot do it for you.

Without another word, he proceed toward the end of the tunnel, from whence the entity of the voice had beckoned them. The tunnel slithered out into an oozing, pulsing chamber; a circular room slick with blood that flowed over the walls, apparently free of the effects of gravity, wherever it wished in hypnotic and strange patterns that induced nausea in the putrid, suffocating air if followed for too long. These patterns played a circular audience to the rotting mass of bubbling blood and bones that rose and fell in the center of the chamber, looking for all the world like the rising and falling torso of a giant corpse.

And in the center of the rising and sinking mass of death and decay, there flickered a crimson light from within, burning like a demonic heart somewhere beneath the bones and blood...

Gihst stared hard into the mesmeric shift for a full minute until, with great effort, he grimaced unfathomably before turning away, subdued.

“…cannae trust th’cavern tae lick its wounds for long,” he said finally, his voice small, reaching back to pull his rosary over his head.

“Tansy,” he asked, turning to her as he reached for the rear waist of his belt; and bringing the Colt .45 to level with the chamber, white prayer beads dangling from his wrist, he demonstrated the standard shooting stance briefly before handing her both the firearm and the rosary. In his bleak glance was an unsteady trust. “Squeeze, dinnae pull.”

Then as though relieved of some heavy burden, Gihst closed his eyes and rolled his shoulders; where the rosary had laid against the skin across his nape, there was a bruised line—perhaps a burn. When he again pulled those goggles over his eyes, the exact moment slowed, stretched, and moved apart without losing tempo as Gihst launched across the chamber, his shape rendered opaque by impossible speed.

And once the Scotsman returned to focus, kinetic forces distorting the air, a single extended arm was thrust inside the chamber mass; his hand unfurled, breached the distance, a red luminance breaking between his fingers as they folded, at last, around the very heart of the cavern.

"TANSY JAMES!" shouted a horrible voice shouted into her ear with enough force to make her jump out of her skin. "HE'S GOING TO TAKE THE STONE! HE'S GOING TO TAKE IT FOR HIMSELF!"

At the exact moment his fingers touched the pulsing crimson stone, something instantly seized Gihst's arm and pulled him under with the strength of twenty men. The bones gave way like sand and swallowed him up in the next moment.

"GIHST!" Brother Stephen cried out, as the chamber roared alive with a chorus of the Scotsman's name; a crescendo of thousand voices shouting their maddening cries into Tansy and Stephen's ears. Before her eyes, Stephen's form changed to something...hellish. Black wings exploded from his back, and hellfire issued from his mouth, canvassing the heaving pile of putrid corruption with its flames, but it seemed untouched.

When Gihst, the one last living ally Tansy even began to trust disappeared inside the living meat of the cave, a feeling of isolation had washed over her. Despite the oppressive humidity of the place, the girl shivered once, twice...and that's all she had time for.

Brother Stephen's transformation made her heart leap into her throat. He was not human. Black wings and mastery of fire, Tansy realized, was as hellish as the pit they found themselves in. No wonder the so called priest had lead them into its depths! It was a trap, she decided with a start. He was a monster.

Orange light danced in her eyes, not as much a reflection of Stephen's fire as a showing of the poison the girl held within. She whirled on the priest, weapon leveled at his devilish head. Squeeze, Gihst had said.

But before she could bring her fingers to act on the thought, Tansy realized again that Stephen seemed to be defending against the cave rather than with it. His fire, worthless as it seemed to be, was certainly aimed at the flesh around than rather than her own helpless self. Tansy paused, panting, uncertain, and frightened.

Beneath, it seemed to Gihst that he had plunged into a raging sea, and ringed all around him were the laughing fanged corpses of soldiers long dead, each speared through their hearts, each heart pulsing like the one he gripped in his hand. Their hundred arms reached out and groped and tore at him, slashing at his face, his body, tearing and pulling like ravenous starving creatures after the first hunk of meat that they had seen in centuries. There was no way to tell up from down, and the hands and faces swarmed about him. Breathing was possible, yet not possible, and Gihst could not escape the harrowing terror that came with the uncertainty that he was breathing at all...

…then a thousand hands were wrenched away. And just as a man trapped beneath ice, he surrendered, and sank; down he dropped like a lead weight into the sea, down where a voice whispered. Like coal burning underground:

’…come—back, (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yq5sVn8b-ns)*’ it crackled. ‘come—back…’

… …

… …

“GIHST!” A voice screamed. Words. Words were wind. Someone had called to him, but he was far away.

He hit bottom with a weightless bump… … …

…the voice echoed back, distorted: ‘Mur—phy…’

At first, his eyes refused to focus. He blinked and blinked and finally, his vision cleared.

From far above fell columns of light—and he remembered the light the paramedics had shone in his eyes to check for pupil contraction. It was like staring into a noon sky from the bottom of a mine shaft; there were figures that eclipsed the opening above, but he could not discern their nature. He was still inside the cavern; but from flesh, stone; from the wail of spirits, silence; and from terror, melancholy.

Gihst grimaced; his adrenaline spent, pain came to crash over him in waves, a cloud that turned things fuzzy, indistinct. He lay there in the darkness, finished.

‘—Murphy,’ the voice came again, more earnest, and his glassy eyes rolled to find the speaker.

There, a vague figure loomed over him; darker than black, its fringes dissolving, as though buffeted by a constant wind—in the manner of smoke. Like an inkblot bleeding into reality itself.

Gihst stared, then closed his eyes. “Tansy, Brother Stephen, they’aer—“

‘—no,’ it choked. ‘Dinnae—look—back.’

And the creature brought its wedge shaped skull to level in a disorganized, convulsing motion—as though writhing in constant agony, constant rage—as though it struggled it keep a foreign shape, fighting its own contortions. Its stare was dead, eyes greasy, charred by the coals that burned within them.

‘Ye—hae—It,’ it wheezed, smothered by the very smoke it was composed of. ‘Apotheosis. Retribution.’

Its shadow flew center point, focalizing with vulturous claws around that single beacon of light, that pinpoint of burning color, the Bloodstone, clutched like a beating heart to his chest. ‘Ah—willnae—be thy—shadow cast.’

In the center of its chest, breaking through chokes of ash and smoke, orange embers flew in the billows of its breath—there was no roar of fire, only hysterical weeping, furious screams, ragged pleas, and the smallest whimper of a child.

Gihst cringed as though a knife churned in his guts.”…no.”

Those black hands stretched agonizingly. ‘Ah—willnae—be thy—demon exorcised.’

“…no,” Gihst repeated.

‘…re—lease—me.’ And the creature broke form, and screwed its fingers into his shoulders.

It stood before him as nothing more than a shadowy reflection of himself, its eyes wild, like the look of a beast held inside a cage too small. Then its whisper returned, impassioned, in perfect mimicry: ‘Aer—we nae—th’per—fect—God.’

“NO.” Gihst roared, the cords of his throat straining, something fierce and primal rising to his features in a mask of absolute wrath…

…and the creature was knocked back as though all the force of a tempest had been unleashed in its face; it clung to him wretchedly, fading and drifting away like atoms of sand, growling like a starved beast.

‘Let th’coal—in thy lungs—remind ye:’ it burbled in spite. ‘Ah shall ne’er leave ye…alwae’—here—inside.‘

Then the creature, the doppleganger, the black dog, the sickness in Isaac, the Old Hag upon his chest, and the schism of rage…disappeared.

‘—beloved—‘ It echoed across the void as Isaac Braeburn.

‘—beloved—‘ It echoed as a dying wind…

… …

… …

And as the hellfire cast by Brother Stephen died, the surface of the unholy mass contorted, bucked, and split violently down the middle; and with a thousand screams, it ruptured like a giant cyst, expelling Gihst along with its putrefied innards—a kukri aloft in one hand, the Bloodstone clutched within the other…

********************************

From further back in the tunnel, alarms rang out in shrill shrieking calls, and the footsteps of the pursuing agents were halted, the two followers uncontrollably shivering as nightmarish visions slid over the walls and reached for them. Even Agent Brassier was stunned for a moment as this nightmare continued to breathe life into itself with each passing instant, unfurling like a bad dream.

Gritting his teeth, he snarled his determination and ordered his two fellow agents forward. "Let's go! It's down here!"

"What is?" Agent Garrus cried out.

"The stone..." Brassier replied with a growl. "I can feel it. I can hear it."

"Christ," Agent Sandler muttered under his breath. "He's lost it," he observed before jumping back and shaking at a screaming phantasm that dashed right for him.

"HE'S LOST IT GARRUS! WE CAN'T GO IN THERE!"

********************************

The noise from down the tunnels was nearly lost on the girl, a faint buzzing in her ears like a pesky mosquito. Tansy only had eyes for the object that Gihst grasped in his white knuckled hand.

The Bloodstone. Her eyes widened slightly, pupils dilated, skin paled and lips parted in a silent gasp at the sight of the thing. This was what she had been so drawn to. This was what she had risked her job and her life for. This had claimed the lives of two men she had met along the way. And now, finally seeing it so close to her, Tansy was absolutely certain it was entirely worth every drop of blood and sweat.

She tore her eyes from the stone and slowly moved to meet Gihst's. He's going to take it, the voice had said. For himself. Even before Tansy had known she couldn't have tolerated such a thing. Now the feeling to possess the stone was even more desperate.

Undisguised lust for the object was written all over her face, but she didn't move to take it. The gun remained firmly grasped in her trembling hands, but she made no effort to point it at Gihst and take the thing by force. Despite the voices, the Scotsman had been true to her thus far. And they still needed to get out of the cave.

More yelling down the tunnels shook Tansy from her state of shock. "They're here," she said, her voice dry and cracking, but deadly serious. "We have to go. They can't take it.”



[ * Temptation – Iona, Book of Kells]

[~N~]

DATE: August 21st, 2042-August 22nd, 2042
TIME: Midnight.
LOCATION: The Caverns

****************************************

Agent-Director Gerald Brassier led his harried and maddened company down the last tunnel to the hideous crimson chamber that held the stone in its macabre grip. He ignored all the echoes, all the voices in his head save one:

"They're here," she said, her voice dry and cracking, but deadly serious. "We have to go. They can't take it.”

Tansy James! His mind cried out. He had her now. His feet picked up their pace, as his lungs struggled with the fetid air forcing its way in and out of his lungs like lead sludge—for there was so little oxygen in this place that it was suffocating. So focused was he that he completely missed the corpse of Dr. Fynn disposed of within the narrow confines of the tunnel.

"Tansy James! This is Federal Agent-Director Brassier! I know you’re in there! Your only way out of this god-forsaken place is through us. Surrender now, and you and your companion, Dr. Fynn and any others you may have with will be taken into custody for questioning! If you fight back, I warn you, we’re prepared to use deadly force! Your flight is over, Tansy! End of the line! Give up here, or suffer the consequences!”

*****************

Gihst stirred, his heart thumping in his ears; its whump-whump-whump minced time into pieces, marked its passage as if it had significance then. He had no idea how long he had been submerged inside the cavern’s belly—it could not have been more than a moment, or he would have drowned, or have been torn apart by restless spirits; for Gihst, time crept past, slower and slower, leavened by voices.

He stood, a gaunt and hunched figure painted in the viscous afterbirth of the cavern; in his hand, the Bloodstone, its beating heart.

Men are coming, something whispered inside. Men are coming to stop you—already their hands reach for you.

‘Hands.’ Memory returned, the past words of Brother Stephen: ‘—there are several branches of the cavern system,” the priest went on to explain, his fingers absently tapping up the book that hung heavy in his satchel, while his other hand stroked his chin. ‘They represent ‘fingers’ of a hand…the Hand of Dracul. In one of those fingers, the Stone resides.’ However, Gihst had seen no more than a single other path—they had traveled like blood down a finger into an open palm.

Those goggles shifted slightly to take in the cavern around him, searching.

Brother Stephen beheld with wide eyes the bestial form of Gihst transformed by the Bloodstone. His own form had erupted from his being without any control on his part, and he fought to suppress it, but the swirling, thick flow of power in this place was too strong to manage. It was almost like it was pulling it forth from him. His eyes shifted to Tansy, who held the gun in her hands, aimed at him—and he beheld her form shifting, too, shimmering behind her, with a glamour surrounding her body like a hypnotic, prismatic glow. He gritted his teeth, trying to resist the urge to burn her with the fire that coursed through his veins.

“Put the gun down, or point it at them,” he said through his teeth at her, his eyes dark and dancing with fire. “If I was here to hurt you, I would’ve done it before now.”

She screamed.

Or Brother Stephen had thought as much, for as her lips parted, a scream that was unmistakably hers erupted forth in his ears, and very nearly shook him to the core.

“Calm down,” said the voice, transmuting from perfect mimicry of Tansy to that of the Scotsman. “We’aer gaein’ aet...”

Gihst passed between them, his route direct, purposeful.

“...’beyond these shores, intae th’ darkness; beyond these shores, this boat may sail’,”

The sudden transition of words seemed like nonsense. He needed something, anything, to keep himself talking—‘his mind had brought him back to a time, one distant evening, when his grandmother had read aloud the old prayer of Saint Brendan. Gihst recited this now as he went across toward the tunnel with steady strides, his voice dissolving into nothing more than a persistent, invasive drone.

********************

Gerald Brassier stopped up short. It sounded as if the woman had just cried out her last, and then there was nothing.

“What the shit was that?!” Sandler mutter, quivering with sheer terror, Garrus steadying him.

“I don’t know. Boss?” Garrus replied, trying to hold himself together.

“Come on,” the Director replied, grimacing and pressing forward.

From out of the shadows at the end of glowing crimson corridor, a man shambled into view, the manner in which a disoriented soldier wandered about a battlefield, shell-shocked. A strange rhythmic whistle followed him, and he stopped, turning drunkenly toward Brassier and his men; he had been hit in the lung, and the man had coiled an arm tight about his ribs in an illucid attempt to seal the wound. From a broken socket of the goggles the man wore, there stared a wide and glassy eye, numbed with fear.

And then the agents heard his ghastly voice, heaving against the blood-dyed bandana over his features: “God…damned…ye; God…damned…this—”

—a blurred violence surged down and crashed over the man, crushing him; a shapeless congealment of amoebic red, hypnotically forming and reabsorbing unmentionable limbs and organs without order. It rolled over lethargically and slithered forward in a tarry creep, boiling with vesicles from which limbs ruptured forth, pitching themselves blindly, mindlessly, maddeningly for the gathered agents.

“Jesus Christ, Boss!” Garrus cried out. “There are hands! Everywhere!” He backpedalled uncontrollably, dragging Sandler with him, clutching to him as much supporting him, if what he was doing at this moment could even be described as such.

Sandler could only shake, his eyes rolling about in abject, catatonic fear.

“What the fu--” Brassier managed, his own throat tightening around what little breath he could still manage as the terror that seized his comrades coiled itself around even his own nerves. And for that moment, Agent-Director Gerald Brassier knew fear.

But he was hardened--a veteran of encounters with these particular types of people. And he rose through the ranks because he could look their demons in the eye and not blink. “Goddamn you, whatever you are,” Brassier growled. He leveled his pistol at the corpse, firing off a few round before whirling to aim for the grasping limbs from the floor, blasting them one after another. Seeing only marginal results, he swore under his breath and pulled out his other weapon. Had one just seen it lying around, they might have supposed it to be the hilt of a lightsaber, but in reality, when he aimed this device, flames of a bluish color shot forth, incinerating and scorching all in their direct line of fire. “Come on! Defend yourselves! You’re FBI agents and if you don’t do it,” he turned to his two cohorts, “I’ll kill you myself and put your weapons to better use.” His cold, steely gaze told Garrus and Sandler he meant business.

Hesitating only a moment longer, they rallied themselves, summoning the wild desperate courage that an animal fights back with when it is cornered and is convinced it is going to die. Both of them unleashed and dual-wielded their weapons, firing upon the cavern and all that seemed, felt, or appeared unnatural.

**********************

“—‘if Ah sail beyond th’ farthest ocean, or lose m’ sail in depths’…“ Gihst listened as gunfire blew holes in the echoes of his words, his cast hallucinations distorting in throws beneath each clap; he ignored the bullets that whistled past his position pressed against the wall, passing through his double.

“…‘for ye hae been before beyond these shores’—” a great rumble beneath his feet silenced him, and he waited, listening, his illusions dissolving into the floor, into the walls, as though the cavern itself had digested them.

Come by, ye goddamned bastard; he thought, his exposed eye gleaning the cavern around him once more. Defend thyself.

***********

After a tense moment, the Director lifted his pistol hand in a signal to cease fire, and seeing this, Garrus and Sandler responded, reluctantly and nervously, eyes darting about.

“Are they dead?” Sandler asked.

“Shhh,” Brassier responded, stalking slowly forward again, cautious and wary of any movement at all.

The rumble that had been building beneath their feet broke, and with a great swell, the peaceful silence shattered into a chaotic uproar; again, disembodied voices and the savage group of alien limbs exploded from their slumber, this time, very much real. Vomiting blasphemy, fingered tendrils twisted and bent in unison to rush in on Brassier and his men; as creeper vines reach and grope blindly for the brick, the cavern sought them, iron cords of animated flesh whipping, crawling, coiling, falling upon them to ensnare the men in their crushing embrace.

“HOLY CHRIST!” A cacophony of shots rang out again, blasting in all directions with lead and light, puncturing and burying shots into a wall that was very real to the men, very real to all who witnessed this horror unfolding before their eyes. The fabric of reality as they knew it was torn, ripped in half, and penetrated by the sprawling, gushing madness reaching for them.

“Boss! We have to get out of here! We have to go, Director!” Garrus yelled hysterically at the top of his lungs.

“Stand fast, you cowards!” Brassier shouted back.

“Boss! We have to go! We have to get back!”

“GodDAMN it!” Brassier shouted back in frustration, unloading another clip into the tendrils that squirmed and reached and spiraled with unholy life. “TANSY!” he roared in frustration.

***********************

The young woman whipped around to the sound of her name, shock and terror gripping her fast. Her heart was racing, hammering against her chest and her mind was a million places at once--on the Bloodstone, on her pursuers, seemingly just dozens of feet away, on this unholy cavern itself, living, wanting, hungry for her flesh and soul. Her lips remained parted, as she struggled to keep it all together, as she struggled to fight the madness around her. She scarcely remembered that the gun was in her hand until she squeezed the trigger accidentally, filling the cavern with the resounding boom of the shot, scaring herself and those around her half out of their skins.

Gihst reflexively ducked behind his shoulder for cover, then wheeled on her, hissing, “—dinnae shoot th’damned walls!”

“God help us, you’ve lost your mind,” Brother Stephen said in a hushed tone that reflected the glassy fear in his eyes.

“I’ve NOT lost my mind!” Tansy screamed back, her hand shaking with the gun aimed at no one in particular. The shot hadn’t hit anyone but, everyone remained frozen in place. Who knew now what was going to happen. Their sanity had fled when all the laws of Nature they had come to depend on warped before their eyes.

And whose fault was this? Whose doing?

She turned and aimed the gun at Gihst, pressing it to his head more quickly than she, or anyone else had thought possible. Her hand trembled. Her finger twitched against the trigger.

Gihst froze; through the broken lens of those goggles stared a shadowed void, like the empty socket of a skull. “Tansy. Listen tae me—“

“—Gihst,” she said through clenching teeth, “Please. I need that stone. I need it.” Desperate madness was in her eyes. It was as though a dam was creaking, ready to burst if she did not have the Bloodstone. Her sanity hung by a thread. More than the rest, she was frayed, clearly beyond her limits. She had lost Dr. Fynn, she had traveled further than she ever intended, pursued to the ends of the earth by Brassier and his dogs, and she had fallen in with this priest and Scotsman--the former who she never fully trusted, the latter who she wanted to trust, but did not know as she knew Dr. Fynn.

In short, she was out of her element and this was far, far more than she had bargained for.

“Give it to me, Gihst. Give it to me,” she implored and demanded with a shaky, insistent voice, pressing the gun point to his head. “Please,” she added, knowing that her sudden demands could not have come off as rational or well-intentioned, but she had no choice. She was compelled. Compelled...

“I can get through... I can get through them easier... I can look like them, if you give me the stone. Give me the Bloodstone, Gihst, and I’ll get behind them and we can get out together. Gihst, give me the stone. Giveittome!” she blurted out faster, more insistently, more demanding.

She was not going to take “no” for an answer. This needed to happen.

Gihst sighed, submitting.

“…we dinnae hae time for this,” he muttered bitterly to himself, searching about his inner coat pockets.

Brother Stephen looked on, his eyes shifting from Gihst to Tansy. He knew in his heart that he wanted that stone just as bad as she did; he knew the awful charge passed down to him by the Papacy, that the real reason he was here was to retrieve this thing and deliver it to the Holy See. He knew that if he came back empty handed, his advancement within the Church would be halted forever, and he would never get past this failure; it would follow him forever.

But he knew that she held the gun, and that if he struck too soon, either she or Gihst would end up with the Bloodstone and not him. The enemy of my enemy is....

So he waited. His eyes shifted. If the agents on the other side of the cavern came and retrieved the Bloodstone, they might even perhaps be easier to negotiate with than Gihst or Tansy, both of whom knew the power he felt coursing through his own veins.

He kept the fire in his palms at the ready... the dark curtain waiting for the signal to drop. He would just... need to wait... for the right moment.

Come on... make your move...

Gihst paused, his one eye locking onto hers, and somehow, everything began to slow. His features began to blur and stretch unnaturally aside, and as though he had blinked through space, Gihst moved—in realty, time and movement had carried on normally in the world around, whereas Tansy, could only perceive its passage delayed in the past. And everything came screaming back to normalcy for her when, with a crushing grip about her wrist, Gihst stepped aside and pushed the gunpoint away, the bullet discharged in reflex whistling harmlessly past him. She was pulled in, ensnared, the black eye that stared into her own mere inches from her face.

“…calm down; Ah’m nae gaein’ tae hurt ye,” he whispered gently, yet firm. “Let go.”

Gihst felt as the strength left her wrist, and with fluid haste, his hand slipped and tore the firearm from her. With dimming anger still festering in his gaze, he took a step back and straightened, the Colt held low at his thigh. “…ne’er hae Ah failed ye; ne’er hae Ah betrayed ye—but ken this: dinnae e’er try tae fuck me o’er ‘gain ‘less ye wish that tae change.” His warning was finite.

“…listen tae me: the cavern willnae hold them back for long—“ Gihst said to them, then looked to Brother Stephen. “—ye once called this cavern ‘the hand of Dracul ‘, and if this cavern is shaped anything alike tae a hand, as ye hae said, then judging by where we’hae been: we aer in th’ palm. There could be another way aet.”

That black and grey eye looked on the priest fervently now. “Burn th’ walls; find where th’ cavern hae hidden them—Ah will hold aeff the Feds as long as Ah kin.”

Brother Stephen was rather surprised at Gihst’s sudden cleverness. He had taken the Scotsman for more of a pragmatic, deal-with-things-as-you-go-along kind of savage, but this new insight from him had eluded even the priest himself. It was clear that both he and Tansy were anything but normal people, and were more like himself--stranger and not of the collective masses that huddled and meandered about the world among their kind. If he could even call their “kind” a “kind,” for it was very clear that Gihst was capable of things he himself could not do, and Tansy was definitely in possession of qualities that differed from his own and Gihst’s.

Taking a moment longer to linger on these realizations in, Brother Stephen nodded in agreement with Gihst, and turned, raising his arms up and in front of him. Immediately, greenish flames traveled up around his chest and spiraled down around his arms to blast forth from his palms and scorch the walls of the chamber. A hideously loud shrieking emanated from the gelatinous, supernatural coating of the chamber and tunnels, reverberating with the mad wailing of tormented spirits damned to eternal imprisonment. The fleshy walls seemed to recoil, blackening and hissing with the searing flames as Brother Stephen spread the infernal dual jets of fire across their surface in an ever widening circle of burnination.

“You better stand back and keep your wings and hair covered,” he cautioned, his voice somewhat less human in his transformed state, “lest you join those singed by the righteous fire that I wield!” His eyes danced with inner fires now, darkened, save for those flickering flames, and his expression changed to one of fulfillment and utter, single-minded absorption into the task at hand. Great gouts of flame poured forth, over and over, shooting across the walls, setting the entire chamber aflame where no flame should reasonably have burned. These fires were not of this world, any more than this place was--that soon became clear.

*****************

Even the fires of Hell itself would not be enough to blunt Director Brassier’s determination. Roaring out like a mad crusader of old, he charged into the grasping tendrils, pulling them from the wall, and in several cases, ripping the flesh where he could grasp it from its anchoring inside the pulsating walls of the cavern. Adrenaline had replaced Fear, and searing Anger now cut a swath through even the grotesqueries of this sacrilegious pit of madness. The eyes of his subordinates danced with the crazed lights of fear even now, for they knew not who or what to fear more--the cavern itself or their boss. In his bloody wake they pressed on, driven by crazed loyalty and abject horror, knowing that the only source of strength in this place was cutting a path with bullets and flames and rage directly ahead of them, and no matter the voices, no matter the tendrils, no matter the horrors of this unholy place, they could at least know...

...at the end of all things, Brassier was on their side. Better the devil you know, after all.

And so the ghastly entity of Dracul’s caverns was being counter-assaulted on two fronts, by the trapped fugitives, as well as by their three pursuers, and it howled and writhed with reproach, lashing out madly while fleeing their attacks in every direction, like a predator shocked by the pain it receives at the hands of its intended prey.

“Onward!” Brassier bellowed out, shooting and blasting his way through the tunnel, “I’m coming for you Tansy! Give yourself up! There’s no escape from this monstrous place except with me! Would you rather die here?!”

**********************

His echoes were vociferous and close now, as though he were literally breathing down their necks, and the horrible stench of rotting burnt flesh saturated every gasp they took, while their hearts hammered faster within their breast.

Brother Stephen gritted his teeth, feeling his strength and energy draining away, as he renewed his assault on the cavern walls. How they screamed and howled, as though hundreds were burning alive. The cacophony was enough to drown out even the roaring threats that Brassier issued as he drew ever closer to their location. He had to get out of here.

Again he brandished the walls with the flames, and again the scorched flesh oozed back and away, blackened and shrieking with nightmarishly shrill cries of pain that issued from mouths that were not present. Reality had long since departed this realm, and there was only madness around them and before them. Long moments passed and still there was no sign of an exit. Exhaustion followed exertion and Brother Stephen choked in deep breaths, desperately trying to maintain his assault, while Gihst and Tansy sensed and heard the FBI agents drawing ever closer.

Gasping and wheezing now, Stephen concentrated his fire on another location to his left, and up higher on the wall, and as the flesh peeled away, it revealed... nothing behind it. An abscess, a gap, a path, a way out! It was higher, however, and would require a good jump to manage.

“Gihst! Tansy! I think I found our escape!” he shouted with sudden exhilaration.

Those words were mingled with the blood-stained shape of Agent Director Brassier blasting his way through the final line of resistance between Gihst and himself. His shape loomed in the darkness, the flashes of light from his weapons eliminating the visage of furious determination as he came dangerously close to his goal.

“I see you!” he shouted. “If you turn and run now, I will kill you!”

Tansy’s mind swam with emotions, plans, and trepidation. Her eyes whirled from Brother Stephen, to Gihst, to the awful Director Brassier who was nearly upon them. I cannot go back! her mind screamed. I cannot let him take me again! He’ll never let me go! He’ll do unspeakable things to me!

Her gaze grew determined. She heard Gihst’s warning. She knew he meant it. But what choice did she have?

Tansy poured her own powers into convincing Gihst to give in to her prior request. Her boldness surprised even her, as she reached out and grabbed his shoulder. “Look, I’m sorry about pointing the gun at you,” she said, doing her best to steady her shaky voice. “It’s this place, it’s those voices, it’s him!” she implored, pointing to the oncoming form of the FBI Director. “He took me, Gihst! Locked me up! They were going to kill me! I cannot let that happen again! I won’t!” Her grip intensified and a shudder ran through her form.

“I never betrayed you either! I never betrayed Thomas Fynn! I’ve been with you, and by your side this whole time, through all of this horror and misery!” She fixed her eyes on him, hypnotic eyes, her voice swimming through his head, stirring his own thoughts and logic around her words. “If you will not trust me, how can you ask me to do the same with you?” Her argument trapped him in a web of his own making.

She offered an open palm for the stone. “I can fly. I can get up through there,” she said, pointing to the elevated path that Brother Stephen uncovered.

“Give me the stone, Gihst, and I’ll keep it safe. And with its power, maybe I can get us all out of here,” she reasoned emphatically. “But if you don’t give it to me now, we may all be doomed to be locked away forever or worse with him!”

Gihst did not look to her, his senses pointed, at ready, toward the approaching agents; however, he was listening. He dug up the thought of her dull ashen hair in the darkness below the sinkhole where TJ had died: ‘ye spook easily, dinnae ye…’ His hand, that he had not been aware was reaching for the inner coat pocket, suddenly froze. For a moment, he did not see the logic in believing her, he had simply wanted to.

He gave a small tick of the head, as though to rein himself back. That exit was not the most convenient to reach, no. But if he was to assume correctly: if Tansy could take flight with those wings, so could Brother Stephen with his own; they could escape…should he have the strength to hold back the FBI for a moment longer. He needed the Stone for that. And if he gave it to her, there would less of a chance that his diversions would work…and that would leave her and Brother Stephen alone with the Stone; despite his styling, he trusted Brother Stephen the least – that hungry, almost vicious look he tired to mask at most times. Decided, Gihst looked to the exit briefly. He could make it. It would be a stretch, but he could make it.

“…Ah’ll be damned n’ dead if Ah let that happen, Tansy,” he then followed to address them both. “Ye both hae better means tae gae up through that hole, take it. Ah’ll need th’Stone for the diversion. Once Ah hae started, go, it might be thy only chance. Forget ‘baet me, Ah’ll manage.”

He straightened, his chest rising with a deep breath, as though, strangely, he were breathing a sigh of relief. “Go. Now.”

Gihst then screamed a terrible, ragged, war cry of a scream that’s echo boomed and ricocheted through the caverns; his frame bowed, features strained forward upon their cords. The air distorted, and as before, the sound dropped into a terrible, buzzing nothingness. And for the agents ahead, that scream rippled, bowed upon itself in distortion, and then reformed in a plethora of maddened voices, spewing their words without order.

‘—men stand trial, dogs get put down—‘ the vestiges of kneeling men, facing the wall, flickered into being. And a doppelganger of Brassier, as detached and callous as the original, walked down the line and executed them all in turn before they vision flickered out—

‘—I didn’t want to be this!’
‘…please, I never hurt anyone—‘
‘—I can’t leave my family like this—‘

Voices, sobbing, pleading, without closure and without peace, swarmed about the men; vestiges that had had their humanity torn from them blotted out the tunnel through sheer numbers, their expressions twisted in confusion, sorrow, and rage. Brassier might have even recognized many, if not all of them. Then a single figure appeared, a man that none of the men standing there had never seen before, one that seemed to part the swarm just enough to form center point; he looked on Brassier with a disgusted, yet reserved, disapproval. “…’dogs gae put dawen.’”

Just then, the cavern seemed to tremble, and with a splitting roar, the floor yawned open before the agents; it was a great chasm, reaching farther down than they could hope to see, screams trickling up from the depths. Gradually, a pyroclastic wall of fire crawled up from the depths and shot from the rift to curl at the ceiling, so agonizingly bright that all seemed to be consumed in its fury.

And that was when Gihst broke, and moved. He moved as far back from the opening his comrades had escaped through as he could, coiled, and launched into a full sprint. The world blurred, his heart hammered in his chest, gunfire passed his ears as though distant, and then, he jumped. Everything seemed so agonizingly slow. Air whistling in his ears, gravity pulling at his heels, the shift of his innards. He threw his arms forward and pulled his legs up straight, his body folding before breaching the gap…

…he tumbled sidelong across the floor as he landed, thankfully, within their escape hole. His breath ragged as he moved to right himself, the world and its sounds flowing back to him. Gihst pulled himself into a crouch and wheeled on his waiting companions. “GO!”

The three of them raced forth from the howling, living cavern, the screams and shouts of their pursuers becoming lost in the din of madness that railed out against them now. Shadows and darkness, blood and the stench of life long deceased and yet yearning for breath in this world; an unnatural will that reached from the ages to grasp at them and take their souls to Hell. Each of them knew this in their own way, but none of them were prepared for it. Whether it was fear or madness or both that drove them on, they all ran for their lives, their lungs burning with exhaustion and exertion. Rationality had fled long before them, and now, like fleeting shadows before the burning of the day, they raced behind what was left of their sanity.

***************************
While it could be said that they made it out of the place alive, it would be wrong to say that part of each of them was not left behind, trapped forever in the haunting memory of that experience--an experience that should not have been, a place that should not be. None of them would ever fully recover.

They made their way via gypsy paths across that countryside, each of them wanting to get as far away from Bran as possible. It took them two days to make the journey beyond the borders of Romania.

During the nights when they slept fitfully, the horrors of their past revisiting them with each moment they re-entered their dreams, they had each seen things in those dreams… visions.

These visions were significant because they were all of the same place: Alesia.

Specifically, a ruined temple complex underground, but the visions took them there, across vast seas to that lonely island.

Each of them knew each other as well, far better than they had ever intended, and they knew not one of them was fully human, and that it was the Bloodstone that made them appear like this to each other; made them known to each other more fully. Revealed each of them for what they truly were…

And it called to them, like a siren, its seductive power unshakable… gnawing at them, their will, their consciousness. It whispered ceaselessly: “Take me… take me…. and become…. more….”

Gihst clutched the stone possessively, and trusted neither Tansy nor Brother Stephen. Nor did these two trust each other or him. It was tearing them apart inside. It was driving conflict and envy and desire into their hearts and straining the tense truce of companionship between them.

The madness… followed them… from that place. They had not escaped it… they had unleashed it… upon themselves and the world.

There was no going back now… no going back to their former lives… their hopes and dreams, no.

And yet, for Tansy and others they knew not of… that was precisely where they were going now.

Back… back to Alesia…

One… last… time.

[~N~]

Folks, thanks to the many threads and the unusually long amount of time it has taken us to wrap up this Act, I'm going to do a more clear-cut matter-of-fact post here, just to make sure everyone is on the same page. Sometime (probably summer of 2013) I'm planning on opening up Act 3 with an appropriate OOC and beginning. So I apologize if this is not one of my more epic posts, but I'm just tying it off here for functionality.

I appreciate all of you putting up with my absences through this. My doctoral work has shown me that, unfortunately, for now at least, I cannot roleplay as I did before when I was pursuing my masters degree.

But I still on running Act 3 in the summer, when I can return and devote myself fully to this site and this third part of our long-running RP. Look for me in May.

Best,
~N~

************************************************** ***

And so they returned, each of them, from their separate journeys to seek out the stones that called to them.

Sarina Gohar returned from Russia on August 23rd. She was aboard a chartered jet owned by Syber-Netix. Sarina had recovered the Winterstar, though it was cataloged as a trinket with her other belongings and inventoried accordingly. It remained unidentified. What interested the scientists more was the transformation in the cybernetic structure and makeup of Sarina's form. It was as though her model had undergone upgrades and transformations that they themselves had not implemented. Needless to say, they could not find the cause, nor could they identify a signature pattern or coding that would reveal who had completed the modifications. Had she done them herself? She would be the first model they had produced

Max Miller, Haji Deyab, and Sarah Richards returned on the 23rd as well, a day after Shiloh Thompson, Professor Langdon, Harold Ashton, and Isaac Scott arrived aboard their own flight to Alesia. Langdon held on to the Dragon's Eye and while Shiloh tried to keep her distance from it, she worried for both the stone and the safety of the one who held on to it. She was forced to watch from afar, until they could get someplace private.

Meanwhile, Miller and Richards reluctantly put up with Deyab's presence, as he insisted that they either bring him, or face a full and very public investigation by the Egyptian (and by proxy) American governments into their affairs, business-related and otherwise. That was scrutiny Miller did not want or need. It was brought to his attention that Sarina had been brought back... with some changes. While the team that recovered her in Moscow were not familiar with the stones, Miller and Richards would be able to identify them quite readily. Upon hearing of the report of Sarina's arrival the next day on August 24th, the pair decided it was worth paying a visit to her... and what she had brought back with her.

Before they could reach her though, Jennifer Maxwell alerted both of them to odd happenings occurring beneath the island in the past 24 hours. She said it was imperative that the CEO of Syber-Netix and his archaeologist assistant come immediately so that they could see for themselves what was "awakening" in the temple ruins beneath Alesia...

Sarina and Shiloh would have to wait.

Benjamin Frakes had arrived in Alesia on the 22nd, ahead of Guiliana “La Bella” Della Romagna, Lance Navarrette, Nicolai Osciar and Chris, and Stephanie Kailous. Unfortunately, despite the investigation now brewing in Peru, he could do nothing to capture them as he had intended. Stephanie was rushed to Daylight Hospital due to the severe injuries she had sustained during her interrogation. Guiliana nigh untouchable, coming in on her own chartered flight, though she now had her father to deal with...

And Lance Navarrette was nowhere to be found. According to reports, he never crossed the border, never went through customs. Ben cursed his luck. The fish he had hoped to catch slipped right through his net. But... he knew they were here. He just had to wait; Alesia Island wasn't very large, and if the prize Syber-Netix was sitting on was somehow connected to all of this, it would serve as a beacon and a magnet for each and every one of them... So he could still spring his trap. He just had to be patient for a while longer...

One of them had the Teardrop. He just had to wait and see which one.

Gihst Wich, Tansy James, and Brother Stephen returned to Alesia, and Stephen directed them to Saint John's Cathedral. Via secret messages to the Vatican, he assured the Church and the Order that all was still in hand, and while Gihst may have carried the Bloodstone, he was still keeping watch over the Scotsman and his accomplice. He offered them privacy, secrecy, and safety, and for that, if nothing else, he remained useful and trustworthy to them. After all, on this island, Tansy herself was now a wanted fugitive, and Gihst had never been here, but Stephen? He knew this place like the back of his hand, and the church was as much as sanctuary for them as any other place on the island.

Police Chief Marcus Grabiski was content that the mob activity had noticeably fallen in the past few days, and that Big Tony and his minions were nowhere to be found. If they moved off the island to establish operations somewhere else? So be it. Not his problem anymore.

Meanwhile, at Daylight Hospital, there was a great deal of anxiety and commotion. It had been reported from the team in Romania that Director Brassier and his two fellow officers, Garrus and Sandler, had all disappeared in the wilds of that country. They were officially listed as missing, for there were no bodies recovered, but none of the three had reported in and surely, if they were alive, they would have done so by now. For the time being, new management took over operations at the hospital, under the direction and oversight of a woman by the name of Nina Wexler. She was as sharp as she was determined, and if Brassier ruled by intimidation and force, she ruled by calculation and precision. Neither was ever known to flinch.

And through it all, one other man emerged from the darkness of his travels... Jeremy Venture, who was indeed changed from his former self. A shadow hung about him now, and it seemed to envelop any light that entered his eyes. He passed like a dark phantom back onto the island, moving silently, unnoticed, keeping a silent watch now. Driven by ambition, horrible memories, and new purpose, he clutched the Shadowheart, and knew from his waking dreams what he must do. He knew of the other four relics, and he knew that Max and others had brought them back. He could almost feel them.

No one could be trusted anymore. No one.

The stones would bring them together... friends and enemies... some known, some unknown... In time, all would be revealed...

For the five stones pulsed now with their proximity to the temple. And their bearers, and all who were changed by their power would be driven on by a hunger, a need, a desire that would not cease to burn...

... until they had they brought them all together...

... to unleash unspeakable power... to he... or she... who possessed the Five as One.


~~~To Be Continued in Act 3, Coming Summer 2014~~~

[Kris]

*Moves to HoF*