[Folly and Martin] spend the night in each other's arms, and in the morning, they return to the medical facility where Folly was examined the day before. They give their names and wait for a while. Martin starts to get a little fidgety and picks up a glossy magazine to read. Then they're sent to an examination room, where they wait a while longer.
After another long wait--they've been there more than an hour, maybe an hour and a half, by this time--a doctor that Martin and Folly haven't seen before comes in with folders and clipboard in hand. "Mr. and Ms. Chance?" he says apologetically. There's a hesitation in his voice, as if he's not sure of the name.
Martin looks up from his magazine and nods, once. "We're waiting for my wife's test results, Doctor ... Chew." He's reading the man's name from his name tag. "Are they ready?"
Dr. Chew says, "They are, Mr. Chance, and I'm here to discuss them with you and your wife. A couple of the blood samples have come back with--inconclusive results. Abnormalities. It's probably nothing, but we recommend your wife be hospitalized while we run further tests, just in case."
Folly, sitting stiffly on the examining table, asks, "What kind of abnormalities?" The men hear the crinkle and rip of paper as she grips the edge of the protective sheet beneath her.
Martin rises and comes to her side, putting his free hand on Folly's arm.
She's trembling like a trapped animal. She takes his hand and grips it hard.
Martin takes it and squeezes it reassuringly. He doesn't sound very reassured when he speaks, though. "Please do elaborate," he says to the doctor. "My wife and I want to do what's best for our child."
The doctor adopts the reassuring tone that doctors in Texorami used when they first talked to her father about the cancer. "We're not sure that there's anything wrong at all, Mr. Chance, Ms. Chance. A few tests just came back slightly outside normal tolerances. This is a just-in-case additional examination. There's a specialist who can take a look at you, Ms. Chance, and in the very unlikely case there is something we need to pursue, you'll be in the best hands."
"I--- I don't---" Folly bites her lip and, desperate, looks at Martin. Her grip grows even tighter around his hand, her expression screams _please please please don't make me go..._
She takes a deep breath and turns her gaze to the doctor. "I'm sorry," she says in a quavering voice, "I've sort of got a... thing... about hospitals." She forces a weak smile as the tears begin to trickle down her cheeks.
Martin takes a step forward, placing himself between Folly and the doctor without relinquishing his grip on her. "I can't imagine anything that upsets my wife so can possibly be good for our child. Is there any way she can stay with me while we wait for the results of these additional tests?"
"Of course. We wouldn't want to do anything that would risk either mother or child," Dr. Chew says soothingly. "We pride ourselves on our attention to our patients' needs here at Terranova Hospital. Ms. Chance, you can stay with your husband right up until you go into the machine."
Folly makes a tiny whimpering noise at the mention of The Machine, and rubs her face with her sleeve. "Er. I think I---" she begins, but then realizes with a sickening lurch that the paper she's been shredding was probably specially designed to absorb bodily fluids. She tears off a hand-sized piece and wipes her eyes and nose with it. "Damn hormones," she mutters, and tries to smile again.
When she has regained a little of her composure, she says, "Please, doctor, could you help me understand what's off about my test results and what it might mean for the health of our baby? And also, what does this... machine... do?" Her hand in Martin's relaxes from 'deathgrip' to something merely at the very firm end of the spectrum.
"It'll run a variety of tests on you, Ms. Chance," Dr. Chew says. "Most of them are involved enough that we don't normally explain them to laymen."
"Assume I'm not a layman," Martin says. His voice is grim and what Folly can see of his expression matches it.
"Various forms of resonant imaging--"
"And there's no risk to my wife or daughter?" Martin overrides Dr. Chew.
Dr. Chew's eyes narrow, but his tone is soothing. "Of course not. It's totally routine."
Something about Martin's stance changes. Folly can't quite tell what it is, but she can almost smell the danger in the room.
Folly frowns thoughtfully, but it's almost certainly for show; her voice, beneath a thin veneer of rhythmic sing-song pleasantness, is dead calm. "I think that it would help if we could take a day to think about it, get another opinion from someone else we trust. Conveniently, my husband has an uncle who's a doctor." She smiles. "Please, Dr. Chew, if we could get a copy of my test results -- and also a phone number, so that when his uncle sends us marching straight back here for more testing, we'll know where we should call."
Her thumb soothes the back of Martin's hand, but the tension in her fingers tells him that she's on her guard.
Martin's face is inscrutable, almost dead in its lack of emotion.
Dr. Chew smiles. His grin belongs to a used car salesman. "Of course, Ms. Chance. I'll get that for you right now. And if you can wait here for another fifteen minutes, there's a specialist in the building, and he can talk to you. Put your mind at ease, help you make a better decision."
"We'll talk it over while you're out getting copies of the results," Folly chirps cheerfully. Her smile is as sugary-sweet as the doctor's is oily, and just as insincere. "Thank you, doctor."
Dr. Chew clearly thinks he's gotten his way, because he keeps that insincere smile pasted on as he goes to fetch the results. "I'll be right back," he says as he excuses himself.
When the door clicks shut behind the doctor, Martin turns to Folly. He's expressionless and dangerous, wearing the same expression he wore right before he decked the cop in the shadow near Texorami. He asks "Do we trump out now or do you want to wait for the results?"
"No," Folly says without hesitation. Her syrupy smile is gone, and she meets Martin's eyes with her own intense gaze. "Let's go. Now."
"Do it." As he's speaking, Martin curls the magazine into a semicircle and places himself between Folly and the door. There are voices outside, although Folly can't make out what they're saying.
In one fluid movement, Folly pulls her Trump case out of her pocket, thumbs it open, and slips out the top card. She takes a deep breath and concentrates on Random's image.
The connection opens. Random is in a modern-looking room, probably in Xanadu. He says, "Heyyyy, there you are. It's about time you called in." He's grinning.
She can hear the sound of the door opening, and a thump.
Folly's return grin is almost reflex, but Random can clearly see the worry in her expression. She says in a cadence that gets faster, louder, and more urgent as she goes, "Yeah, um. Hi, we're okay, but I think we have to leave here now, so if you could just pull us through Martinareweready?!" Her eyes stay fixed on the card, but Random can tell she's reaching out toward something in front of her.
Random's hand comes towards her like a bad (but perhaps welcome) 3-D movie, only without the glasses. He drops what was in his hand (a drumstick) and reaches for hers. "Tell me when or pullmethrough!" he says.
Folly hears the sounds of fighting, but can't focus on them. There are lots of noises and they're pretty chaotic. Martin shouts back at her, "Go! Now!"
For an instant, Random can practically feel Folly's anxious indecision, like a wave of gut-wrenching nausea through the contact. But she sucks in a deep breath and says hastily, in a voice clearly designed to cut through the noise of a bar brawl, "I'll call you from the otherside---"
By the last syllable, her hand is in Random's and gripping hard. Eyes fixed on his, she gives a tiny nod and steps through the contact.
Random pulls her through harder than he intended (perhaps expecting a two-fer) and Random and Folly end up in a heap beside a drum kit in the new studio. There is only a single dim light and the soundproof door is shut. The room has the familiar audio deadness of a large recording space.
Random doesn't let go of her hand, but asks questions very quickly. "What did you all run into? Why didn't you bring Martin? Do we need to send the cavalry? Because we'll have to recruit one if we do."
"I -- I'm not sure, we were fine and then---" As she speaks, Folly is rearranging herself into a seated position on the floor, her knees drawn up in front of her. She's still gripping Random's hand with a force that is probably meant to keep her own from shaking. "There were... people... I don't know, he told me to go, but--- I'm sure he's extracted himself by now, I told him I'd call him and---"
As if suddenly realizing that she's not making sense, Folly blinks and looks at Random. "I hate hospitals." Her bottom lip quivers a little as she drops her gaze to the trumps in her hand and sifts Martin's out with her thumb.
"Well that clears things up. Why were you in a ..." He stops and just looks at her.
She says nothing in reply -- she has shuffled out Martin's trump and begun concentrating on it -- but after a moment she slowly slides her feet out straight in front of her, lowering the protective barrier of her knees. Her hair has fallen into her face, hiding much of her expression, but Random can tell from the rise and fall of her chest and the tension of her hand in his that she is forcing herself to take long, slow, deep breaths.
Random waits.
There is no answer from Martin, although he is alive.
Folly continues to stare at the card, as if she could make a connection by sheer force of will. The toe of her right boot nervously taps against the left, marking the passing time at a perfect 120 bpm.
One minute. Still with her eyes locked on the card, Folly begins to speak. "He--- He's not ans--- I'm not sure what happened, exactly, there was a doctor, and he wanted to run a bunch of tests on me that---" She shakes her head minutely. "---so we talked him into leaving the room so we could trump out, and I don't really know after that -- there was some commotion, maybe he called security or something to keep us from leaving, and Martin was yelling at me to just go, so I--- But, I mean, unless they were intending to start with deadly force, what chance do they have to even subdue him? He -- he just h-has to...."
She trails off.
Three minutes. Folly begins cursing. The pitch is too high, the words almost strangled.
Five minutes. "He's still not answering," she says, and her shoulders sag. Her grip on Random's hand eases, enough so that he could easily extricate himself if he wished, though she doesn't let go. "Dammit, I should've--- I would've--- If I weren't pr----"
She winces and lifts her gaze from the card. Her eyes are red and puffy. "I'm sorry, baby."
Random squeezes her hand and talks. It's clearly patter, designed to calm her down, but she can tell he means it. "Hey, it may not have been more than 10 seconds there, you know? He's a tough kid, and he's probably just burning their city to the ground, driving their horses before him, sowing the earth with salt, and writing the bass line to 'The Lamentations of Their Women'. Do you want me to round up Ash and Soren and have us head there and threaten to rough somebody up? Like he was Slimy Bob from The Garden? I've got a goose-neck microphone stand if we need it." He smiles. "So, um, did Dad's former 'Court Wizard' teach you to make trumps? We could make a sketch of where you were and send through some professional trouble if that would help. Would that help?"
Folly's return smile is weak but genuine. "I love you," she says, and he can tell she means it, too. She gives his hand a grateful squeeze.
"Making a sketch -- I don't know how much it would help, I mean, he taught me the basics but it might take so long for me to come up with something that works that we'd be better off---" She bites her lip pensively and looks at the trumps in her hand.
After a brief moment of indecision she offers Martin's trump to Random. "How about I sketch, and you keep trying to call? If you still haven't gotten through by the time I've got something I think will work, we round up some reinforcements and go beat Dr. Chin over the head with a bedpan. Or whatever. Unless you've got a better idea?"
"Nope, that's the plan." Random takes the trump, carefully and nods, once. "Doctor Chin? Sounds like that forester they brought in last week, said he was from Telestra, had the biggest chin I'd ever seen..." He stands and walks to the door to the control room, opening it and the exterior door past it. "OK, I need three things, lad." He says to someone just outside Folly's sight. "One, Soren, he's in the castle. Two, Ash, from town. Three, a beer, no four beers. Four, swords and knives for four. Five, drawing tools and materials for Folly. Six, The black case from the red parlor. Got it? Good. Fast as you can, kiddo, or I'll make you tune my drums." The sound of running feet is followed by silence.
"OK, Calvary's coming, let me try this thingy..."
While she waits for art supplies, Folly sits quietly beside Random and watches his efforts with the trump, as much because she finds the proximity comforting as from anticipation that the trump will succeed any minute now. Once the supplies arrive, she sets up a small distance away and quickly loses herself in her work.
Random tries off-and-on for most of the watch. When Folly looks up, her work complete, Random is standing with Soren. "Ash will be here in a moment. Pick your weapons."
"So it's OBs versus SOBs, then," Folly says with a tiny affectionate smirk that doesn't quite mask her nervous excitement. "Well, I know who my money's on, anyway. Especially if Ash picks 'mic stand'."
"That's 'Lord Mayor Ash', m'dear." Ash stands in the door, sporting a new beard. He's wearing loose pants in bright colors and a heavy leather jacket. "Syd said he'd have something with more stopping power than a mic stand."
Syd looks up at Ash and pats the bag by his side. "Lady Folly, may I present Ash, Lord Mayor of Xanadu. Your Municipality, this is my brother's ward, The Lady Folly." Soren just grins.
Folly sticks her tongue out at Syd and then greets Ash with a long stream of excited expletives, the gist of which seems to fall somewhere between "Holy crap with this public office stuff" and "I missed you," with a smattering of "Didn't you used to make fun of the drummer for wearing those pants?" thrown in for good measure. She's grinning.
She stands and brings the sketch over to Random. "I think it'll work," she says, "but probably not for long. Maybe a day. Honestly, I was hoping he'd've answered by now, and we wouldn't actually hafta do this."
She links an arm through Soren's and looks up at him. "Did he fill you in on the no-information I gave him about what's going on?" She nods at the sketch in Random's hands, and her tone and focus shift to include the whole group. "That's the room I left from, a hospital examination room where Martin was... scuffling, or whatever. I have no idea what we'll find on the other side -- carnage, or armed guards, or nothing at all -- but I can tell you that the place is high-tech, at least at Texorami's level or a little beyond. And also, this room is up in the spiffy-rich-people part of the facility -- so if there's a trail of things-amiss, it should be easy to follow. Or possibly hard to follow due to heavy security. You get the idea."
Soren nods. "Right. Very simple. The only one who isn't a bad guy is Syd's kid." He turns to Ash. "You'll know him. Looks like Syd's older brother."
Ash nods. "I met Syd's older brother. Back before Happenstance. Didn't look anything like him."
Soren looks back. "This one does."
Folly's grip on Soren's arm tightens a little, not uncomfortably, and her free hand strays to her belly. "You know, the whole point of my trumping back here was so I would be safe by virtue of being not there anymore. But on the other hand...." She smiles, the same intense 'we're in this together' grin she sometimes used to get as they'd all take the stage in front of an especially rough crowd. "On the other hand, if I'm sending you all to your deaths... honestly, I'd rather go with you."
Syd looks up. "You're mostly immortal, and I'm immune to death, but I'm attached to all of you. My only advice here is that we may need to be able to question people, so yes, hit them behind the knee with the goose-neck rather then shooting them, if you're given two choices.
"Ready? We have to hold hands for this little trick to work, but Kumbaya is not on the set list. Showtime."
Before they all trump out, Garrett hustles in, still buckling on a sword belt that he probably grabbed in haste when he heard there might be trouble. He grins at Folly if he catches her eye, but otherwise, he clasps hands with whomever is at the end of the trump line.
Folly raises her eyebrows at Garrett, clearly wondering whether he knows what he's getting himself into; but what she says is, "Hullo, Garrett, have you met the band?" She grins at the dark-haired fellow standing beside Garrett and adds, "So, Ash, the guy we're looking for looks even more like his older brother, because he is."
If Garrett takes the time to get a good look at Folly, he notices that she looks a little stressed, but otherwise healthy. Very healthy, in fact: under the form-fitting purple-and-black outfit, she looks like she's put on a little weight.
She looks at Random. "And not to be all voice-of-reason here, but do we have a quick way back if we need it? Quicker than 'commandeer a vehicle and drive like mad', I mean?"
"You mean, that Martin?" Edan strides through the doorway, adjusting a sword in his belt sash and another at his back, looking for all the world like he was continuing a conversation with Garrett. He slows a step, adds, "It appears so," seeing the other people in the room, and takes the last offered hand in line.
The blousy pants and shirt and turban he is wearing are not completely ludicrous for their destination, but definitely out of place compared to the others.
Paige walks in with a nod to her brother and Garrett and a sad smile for Folly. "Sorry I'm late. We hit a point where the team's getting too big?" she asked looking at the assembled crew.
The arrival of Paige draws Folly's attention away from the mysterious guy with the turban. She smiles in obvious relief: she hasn't seen Paige since the coronation.
[Paige] is dressed in black slacks of raw silk, and soft slipper-like sandals. Her blouse is of the same material in a green so dark that it might've been black as well and cut loose to allow a full range of movement. When she moves, the attentive could see that she had bound herself tightly beneath the supple garments. A scarf belts her waist and holds the sword with the green jade hilt.
"We're going someplace where the bad guys are going to be holding more than just swords, I assume? Do we have resources at our disposal or are we procuring in country?"
"Hey, my turn!", says Random, "OK, three things. One, the team is not too big, or rather the two teams are now not too small. Two, this is supposed to be a quick 'get Martin and get out mission'. No buying real estate. Three, I wanna say Garrett can't go, but I'm not gonna. Garrett you have to decide if you think it's smart to go, because you're the guy in line for the throne after the missing guy. C, I know many of you think you're gonna live forever. Stop thinking like that. D, Guns. I have some. If you know what to do with them, I'll give you one. And Lastly, we have no idea what we're walking into, so we're coming in overpowered, but if we can hunker down, we may be able to catch this fly with honey instead of superior firepower." He looks around.
Folly is nodding agreement.
"Anything else? If not, curtain's rising. Paige, Garrett, you're with Edan. Edan, you've got lead on team two. If we find Martin, we get out."
Garrett realizes his father's words have merit. He looks at Paige and takes himself out of line. "He's right. Someone's gotta stay. No one can trump me, but if you have a trump of yourself that I can hold onto, maybe you can be the contact point to trump back to me?"
Random looks him in the eye. "Good man," he says.
"I've got one, if you don't have a spare on you," Folly offers. "And for the record, the only trump I've got left of someone-who-won't-be- where-we're-about-to-go is Ossian's. If things go horribly wrong and we all get separated, that's one of my back-up plans for getting out." She looks around at the assembled rescuers, ending with another inquisitive glance at mysterious-turban-guy. "Cool?"
Paige nods, taking a moment to draw her eyes away from Folly before turning back to her brother.
Edan raises an eyebrow at the word, "Cool," gives Folly a toothy smile, and bows slightly with a hand pressed to his chest. The other hand clamps down on Paige's hand. Golden eyes watch Folly intently as he rises.
"Forgive me," he says. "I am Edan ibn Bleys ibn Oberon nin Dar-es Salaam, recently arrived in Xanadu. I heard that my help might be needed." A second later, he adds, unneccessarily, "Paige is my sister."
Folly's eyebrows lift in a combination of surprise and amusement, and she bites the inside of her lower lip, perhaps to keep from blurting out the first several things that come to mind. She recovers her composure quickly, though, and bows in answer. "As-salaam alaykum," she says solemnly, the greeting tinged with the accent Edan associates with coast-dwellers. "And welcome, and thank you for your aid. I'm Folly." The solemnity slips, and she grins, glancing from Edan to Paige. "We'll, ah, we'll chat later."
Paige smiles at Garrett's responsible decision, even if his father had to prompt it. "One, I'll take a pistol of you've got one handy, or a shotgun in a pinch. I don't think we're going to be in positions where I'm going to need something with extreme range if we're talking urban combat." She turns to Folly, "You keep the Trump of me as we'll be in seperate teams, Edan can give the copy he currently has to the Prince.
"I've a place or two to escape to too, but none that are local," she adds. "If we have a watch, I might get a sketch of Folly done for our team, or one of the King or Garrett, more likely, for us to use as an escape valve." She doesn't seem to be happy about the idea of waiting that long.
"We don't have any time. I wish I'd called you a watch ago, but that's all water over the cliff now." Random reaches into his bag and tosses something out of it. Something dark and glistening in the dim light of the studio. It arcs across the room and almost perfectly into Paige's hands. It is a handgun, clearly made by a master-craftsman. It's mostly made of reddish wood and lightly carved with happy woodland scenes of bunnies and deer. "This may work, or it may not. You and Edan go first, make a hole for the rest of us if you need to, but quietly. We'll be a couple of minutes behind you."
Paige checks the action and the ammunition with practiced ease and slides it into her sash, strong side behind her hip. She flips a calf length cape over her weapons and looks to her brother.
The action sounds like a well-crafted, efficient machine and the bullets at least look normal.
Edan, having started to pat at his turban when Paige's Trump is first mentioned, finds it and hands it over quickly.
Garrett takes the trump and asks Paige, "Is it possible to hold a contact with you without interfering with what you're doing? Like looking over your shoulder, I mean?"
"No, because I won't be able to concentrate on where I am and if it's dicey that'd be bad." Paige pronounces the last word like she was humming a catchy little funeral dirge.
Edan glances between Garrett and Paige, and reaches for the Trump sketch of their destination.
"I possessed a maula pistol in the desert," he says to Random. "Single-shot, large caliber, black powder... a knife could be affixed under the barrel. Do you have something similar?" He pauses. "I do not usually like using guns. They are slow, and clumsy, and there is always the matter of the twenty-one feet."
"Gee, I always thought the same of sorcery," his sister quips.
"What sort of place am I stepping into, Folly? And are you guys following me in on my Trump or this one?" she asks, rolling her neck and shaking out her limbs.
"Examining room in a medical facility, maybe as big as...." She points around the studio at a small smattering of furniture and instruments to give rough dimensions. "Tech maybe about like here -- or like here will be eventually. I, ah." She pauses and clears her throat. "I think Martin was about to take out someone's appendix with a rolled-up magazine. Or something."
She looks to Syd to answer the second question.
Paige frowns at Folly for a moment, a quick glance at her stomach before shrugging.
Syd points to the trump sketch. "We're piling through that one in three minutes plus however much longer you're here. Martin's not answering on the other end, so we won't take chances. You can call us to stop us, but really, you need to clear us some space if it needs clearing, or worst case cause a diversion and get them haring off after you. I take that back, worst case is we come rescue you first, then Martin. Ideally, you'll just sit and wait for three minutes in a quiet corner of the room, setting booby traps in the medicine cabinet and switching labels on pill bottles.
"If you're ready, go."
Paige waits until Edan sets the drawing down and once he's ready takes his hand again and concentrates on the sketch.
Edan doesn't reach for a weapon, but his upper torso bends forward about fifteen degrees and his right foot slides back a bit. Muscles tense all along his back and legs. There is little outward sign, but for those who can read it, Edan seems prepared to leap ahead and all the way across the room immediately, if need be.
In the meantime, Garrett moves over toward Random and Folly, out of Paige's way. His small, quick smile up at Folly indicates he'd like to catch up later, but he's definitely on duty now.
One of Folly's hands is tucked firmly into Soren's, but she reaches out with the other and gives Garrett's arm a quick, friendly squeeze. From this nearer proximity, he can see the faint lines of worry creasing her brow.
"Do you have any orders for me, sir?" he asks his father. "And should I hold your trump as well, in case something happens and I'm not able to contact Paige?"
Random reaches into his gunbag and pulls out a card deck. He opens it and looks for his own trump, which he flips to Garrett.
"Tell Vialle we're off to pick up Martin, and tell anyone else I'm rehearsing something and can't be interrupted."
"Yes, sir," Garrett answers as he takes the card and stows both trumps carefully in a breast pocket.
Ash snorts, "And I always thought that 'rehearsing something' was code for 'Folly and I are gonna have sex now, go away.'"
Garrett snorts in amusement, but his lack of surprise at that revelation might surprise his father.
Folly smiles mock-sweetly and turns to Random. "Give me a gun, love, if I promise not to use it on our beloved Lord Mayor?" Her cheeks are flushed, but she looks more amused than irritated. She catches Garrett's gaze and effects the eye-rolling pose of the long-suffering.
He grins back at her, his wide smile once again reminding her of his father's in similar moments. Then he turns responsible again. "You be careful," he warns her. "I don't want you getting hurt before we've had a chance to ... catch up." His glance shifts to her growing belly very briefly, then back to her eyes with a knowing smile.
Folly's cheeks grow faintly pink, but she smiles and nods. "I promise."
Random reaches into his satchel and, without looking, pulls out a gun. It is black, functional, and sleek. He hands it to Folly. "Darn right you won't shoot him. RHIP, after all." He looks at the darkened glass at the end of the room, almost as if he's getting signals from an invisible engineer.
"Two minutes. Anyone needing to follow Momma's advice regarding long trips in the van, go now."
Folly arches an eyebrow and grins. "'Bring a date'? Or did you mean someone else's Momma?"
Soren and Ash laugh. "I'd almost forgotten your mother. Except for the book publicity blitz thing." says Ash.
"I hadn't." says Soren, flatly.
Folly gives him a deeply sympathetic look.
She lets go of Soren's hand and takes the gun, examining it closely enough to get its feel and find the safety -- but not so closely that she'll be tied down by the number of bullets that are supposed to be in the gun.
She's always been a pretty good shot, but the prickle of Pattern in her blood tells her that she may be about to get better. She slips her hand back into Soren's and nods her readiness.
Garrett steps back to give them space and waits. Full of nervous energy, he can't seem to be still. He touches his pocket to check on the trumps, wipes sweaty palms on his jeans, taps his fingers on his thigh. His eyes dart from one person to the next along the line, watching and waiting, ready. For what, he doesn't know.
As the seconds tick by, Folly slips out her own trump case and nervously checks that all the cards are present and accounted for. If Random didn't hand back her Martin trump after he was done with it, she gets it back from him. (After all, he's supposed to have his own.) She also checks and double-checks that she still has Martin's trump of Random.
"OK, seems like long enough. Folly, you want to run the board, as it were? Pass us through, one at a time, then come last."
Folly nods. She stashes her trump case and gun in her pockets and gets situated with the trump sketch, one hand out to begin passing people through. She takes a deep breath and concentrates on opening a connection.
Folly is able to open a tenuous connection to the room. There is a dead body, and lights flashing from the hallway, and the bulletholes in the wall (as described before). Folly is unsure how long she can hold the connection, and she feels that she may not be able to get all four of the people intending to go through the connection.
Paige opens a trump connection through the Folly's sketch.
As Folly described, the sketch is of an examining room in a doctor's office of some kind. There's an examining table, a couple of chairs, and cabinets with instrumentation.
With the connection open, the room is darker than Paige expects. The overhead lights are out, but some kind of emergency lighting is on, allowing her to make the trump contact. The walls are riddled with bullet holes, as if someone had swept the place with automatic weapon fire and been interrupted mid-spray. That might be the olive-clad man across the room from Paige's point of view. He's lying against the wall where he landed, looking for all the world like a broken rag doll. From the angle of his neck, he's either dead or soon will be.
There are occasional flashes of light through the open door to the room, as if there's some kind of alarm going off outside.
Edan, as long as he is touching Paige, can see the scene through the trump as well.
Edan's eyes glint in response. "May the Merciful One grant us a safe path," he says, low enough for Paige to hear. He points forward and left, where he can stand and cover two thirds of the room. "I will go here... stand here. You are right handed, yes?"
Paige nods and offers her brother a quick smile. "Over lapping fields of fire. I'll go right. Martin's... um... volatile... when he's like this, as the hostile there shows. I won't say he's out of control, but he's running on alot more instinct than rational thought. If he finds us before we find him, well, your clothes should give him enough pause to recognize me."
Edan smiles a little wider. "Let us hope that seeing me does not simply prompt Martin to attack. Or anyone else, for that matter."
"Ready?" she asks. Once she gets agreement, she'll step through, drawing her brother along....
Once they step through, they're in the chamber as described. What the trump didn't convey is the awful clangor of the alarms and the smell of cordite. The lights are definitely flashing from the halls. It's hard to tell if there are people nearby over all the noise, but there are no obvious sounds of footsteps, no obvious sounds of gunfire, and no obvious people approaching based on what Paige and Edan can see through the door, which is more disarray, but no bullet holes.
[Where do Paige and Edan want to go? What do they look for? I'd like some general broad intentions and some specific steps to implement them, and the weekend post will take you either to where you're going or your first encounter along the way.]
Paige drops to a crouch and pulls back against the nearest wall, immediately scanning for survailance devices and should she find any, ceasing their function as quickly as possible.
She waves Edan toward the door to check the hall as she approaches the body and ensures that it's dead. [If not, she finishes it with a stiletto from her sleeve.] Next she looks for a discarded firearm, either the rifle or sub-machinegun that made the holes in the wall or a personal sidearm. Explosives (read grenades) and non-lethal weapons, like tazers or cattle prods are acceptable as well. She looks for a radio next. The obvious bits done she scans the room to ensure that they're truly alone and once satisfied joins Edan.
The downed guard has what looks like some kind of service pistol. He also has some kind of taser-like device that looks like it was designed to be used at touch range. The latter is in his hand and looks like it's been discharged at least once based on the power level indicator.
Paige aquires both, content in knowing that at least one of her guns is sure to fire here. The pistol is snugged in her waistband and the tazer stays in the hand opposite the now drawn sword.
She does a quick second scan over the body, looking for the tactical radio of a security squad or even just the ubiquitous security guard walkie-talkie.
[Just wanted to confirm as you guys didn't say one way or another...]
All communications equipment that she finds has been rendered useless with ruthless efficiency. The first guy doesn't have his headset any more.
Edan goes more towards the physical security; he moves to the side of the door to check the hallway beyond with a glance; if there are any other doors, he makes sure that they are closed and locked. If there is a window, he closes the shades (and figures out the devil's invention of venetian blinds, if they are there) after making sure no one is watching from outside.
There are two other bodies by the door, also both guards of some sort. Quite dead. Based on the alarms, the people in this building are probably busy elsewhere.
He takes the body a step further; it looks like Paige is going for the man's sidearm, but Edan will sit the body up and in a position facing the door to draw the attention of anyone entering.
The man will never look alive again. Someone (presumably Martin) broke his neck, and his head won't stay upright.
When they're done, he basically wants to ensure that there is just one easy entrance to the examining room, and that there is a distraction for those ignorant of his and Paige's efforts. Then, he resumes his vigil at the door.
"We hold the room for three minutes local and then we go looking for the Prince," she suggests as she advances carefully toward the doorway from the otherside to cover her brother's blindspot. "Any way of knowing if your grasp of sorcery is going to help here?" she whispers.
[Edan can feel free to edit any of this... if he's taking such initiatives, Paige is going to trust him and not duplicate the work. She never steps foot into the hall, nor does any part of her body cross the threshold unless something dramatic interrupts her above investigations.]
"Yes," Edan says after the slightest of pauses, "but most say 'Edan is here' in ways the initiated can see halfway across the building. Still, it would be helpful to know... and in doing so, perhaps I can see the story that happened here."
With a few gestures and a lot of concentration, Edan will scan the room with his Third Eye; he will add in a variation, trying also to pick up the trails of heat, subtle and not, that were left in the room. With a little mental exercise in spatial geometry and assuming that colder = older, he'll try to pick up the story of what happened.
[This is beautiful. It's exactly what we wanted from you as a fire spell. It's a little complicated for combat time, but it would make a great ritual.]
[Card draw: the Smith. Very good for you.]
Edan realizes immediately that this would be a better ritual than a combat casting. He does the work in a minute's time, since he doesn't have the watch or more he'd rather take for it. With the weapons fire in the room, he's able to use the spell to trace that there was a sudden entry at the door and that one of the two people in the room presumably vanished almost immediately thereafter. Then there was a jumble by the door, and those in the doorway departed or died.
Edan thinks he can hold the spell for up for a watch or so, but it will take a lot of concentration.
Edan describes the action as he sees it, following the trails in the room. "I have a trail," he says, "but I cannot guarantee which is Martin. And while I do this... I will not be able to fight." His hand twitches, and his voice does not communicate pleasure at the idea.
"Perhaps I can follow this until we find a more specific trail," he says. "I do not like giving the rest of you the burden of protecting me."
As stealthily as possible, Paige will aquire any other sidearms and tazers that might be on the other two guards. As an afterthought she'll look for keys or id badges that might open doors along the way, even if she expects to be able to follow the carnage easily enough. An ammo pouch or tactical bag of some nature would be nice for consolidating her growing collection. If one can't be found, she'll tie them up in her cloak and leave them with a note in the middle of the room. The note is left with whatever container she finds.
In [mostly] Thari...
::When in Roma, use /terra fvlminata/ Brother has a vector we think Have Mommy call::
She kisses it, leaving lipstick as a signature.
The three minutes are up.
Paige nods, "Right. You lead and I'll cover us. We'll try to keep it quiet if we can, blades and such. I'll assume that if it gets hairy you can drop that and focus on the matters at hand."
Edan smiles. "Blades are the safest course, my sister. Should I have to resort to more spectacular sorcery, the explosives may get... hot. I shall, of course, try to avoid this."
She'll advance into the hallway, checking both directions before waving him out.
Edan will draw one blade, keeping it low and away from his body, and be prepared to draw the other. Slightly crouched, he will pad almost silently ahead, following the trail he sees.
The trail leads them past a nurse's station. There are several more bodies, mostly security, each of which is dead, normally by means of a single shot. As with the first three bodies, weapons are left intact, but communications equipment is missing or irreparably damaged.
Behind the station, there's a large mass of heat. Edan is certain there's someone still alive back there, hiding.
Edan looks back and forth at the bodies, obviously impressed; seeing the nurse's station, he holds up and hand and gestures.
quiet- one or more- right -there-
Paige nods and indicates that she's going around the right side of the station, keeping herself low the stiletto back in hand for close work if it was needed. "Come out quietly," she spoke evenly as she advanced. "We won't hurt you, but we need to find the man that did this. We're going to make sure that you're safe, but to do that, you need to help us. OK?"
If someone rushes her, the stiletto will fly for better or worse...
A head peeks around the corner. It belongs to a woman, or perhaps a teenaged girl. Whoever it is, she looks traumatized. "D-don't hurt me," she mouths, or maybe says, but she's barely audible over the klaxons and alarm noises.
"I'm not here to hurt anyone," Paige soothes in her best maternal tone. "I'm here to take the man that did this away, but you've got to help me find him." The stiletto has spun about hilt first and now lies unobtrusively against her forearm, the sword is kept from view by the nurse's stations.
"Do you know which way he went? How long ago did this happen?"
Edan turns away from the two, partly to reduce the anxiety his attention would cause, and partly to make sure no one is coming their way.
The terrified girl points off in a direction down the hall, toward the lab section. She's starting to say something when Paige feels the beginnings of a trump contact.
Edan cannot see the direction she's pointing. He doesn't see anyone coming just yet.
Edan keeps his attention on the exits, the way they came, and occasional glances at the two women.
Last modified: 16 May 2006