Wizards vs. Muggles (Free-form)

Lita started telling Chess "Good Morning" when she just left for some reason. Then she saw Sinclain walking toward his room, and her.

"Oh, there you are! We're late. We should be getting to a place now." She said looking around trying to remember something and patting her own pockets "I—I had a schedule and a thing and—Here it is! See? We're late, we gotta leave"

She started heading outside, assuming he'd follow. They were late, the cyber-café would be full by now.

Give a man a fish, feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, you can't sell him fish anymore. http://thoughtfulspurts.wordpress.com/

Clark nodded thoughtfully. "Your husband and he seem like they're close friends—do you know anything else about him?"

edited 17th Jul '12 8:36:12 PM by Wysp

"Your mission is not to nuke the squid god." —Faramir

Scotland
"I didnae pry," said Claudia. "He were an interpreter for Alan's boys in Bosnia and Kosovo. After that he came to Britain to live, found a spot with their government. 'Twas on job that he called in a favor from my husband, which I believe was when you met him."

In the dining hall hand tapped Warren's table gently. "Hey. Would you mind?"

It was Ralston, one of the crew chiefs from their Chinook. He looked slightly bleary-eyed, but carried a coffee cup in one hand. Sandwiched behind his arm and his body was a thick-looking manila folder of forms, a pen clipped to the edge.

"I've got all these to fill out before I can turn in. No rest for the weary," he said.

Charlie Stross's cheerful, optimistic predictions for 2017, part one of three.

"Alright. Do you know what job it was?" Clark asked, just to ensure that he was being thorough. He suspected he knew, however.

"Your mission is not to nuke the squid god." —Faramir

"What's up Chief?" Warren said as he looked up from Sgt. Browning's personnel file. Motioning for the crew chief to sit down, Warren shifted his gaze to the stack of paper that Ralston had brought with him. "Tell me I don't need to sign those."

She grins, flipping through the sheets for the names pulled from the ministry archives and any other potential known associates. Despite her precautions and mysterious nature, Czeslawa could respect a lady whose desk could do everything but staple. Of course they were at the very least Hogwarts attendees.... might be worth bringing up their school records....

Let God do His work, we will see to ours. Bring in the candles.

Alex continued to let Clark take the lead, but did think of one question he'd like to know about. "Call in a favor? Would you happen to know any more about that, or maybe when it was that they first met?" Alex asked, a little part of him wondering how such information would actually help them at all.

Well, you never know another part of him reminded himself.

You are reading this.

Clark's discipline was all that kept him from cracking a smile at Alex's question. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to make sure of that, either.

"Your mission is not to nuke the squid god." —Faramir

"I-I wouldn't know anything about what's going on here," Olivia stammered, slowly helping the RAF man up. "It's, err..."

She thought quickly, trying to find an excuse that would absolve her of all responsibility, yet avoid answering the question at all. Something snappy, something original.

"Well, it's, err, above my pay grade," she shrugged, and then pointed to the comatose Scot.

"Is he okay? Did he sustain any injuries at all, other than the hand?" As important as Britain's Finest was, it was hard to ignore that the Scot was probably the higher priority.

I am become Death, Destroyer of Miniputts.

Scotland
"The islands," said Claudia. "I am given to understand that the lad provided additional help, in an unofficial capacity, when Alan with his Jocks went to Bosnia. He said no words about it when he were back, other than to say to me that now he knew the...the other world were real, and that what happened earlier were no nightmare." She frowned minutely. "I do nae know what specific favor it were that he called, but Alan wanted no second prompting. In a day he hae settled his accounts and were on his way."

In the dining hall Ralston shook his head. "No, no. Mine to fill out. Flight forms and intel reports and all that." He stifled a yawn before settling down and sipping from his coffee cup, before grimacing. "Instant's all they have right now. What I'd do for a proper cup of tea..."

He was interrupted by the sight of two of the custodial staff carting in what looked like a stack of multi-colored posters from different eras; as he watched with visible curiosity, they began pinning them up. Some of the posters were huge, almost the size of tapestries, and apparently painted in different shades of color with no text on them.

"Now hold on!" Ralston protested as one of the staffers gestured for him and Warren to get up from the table.

"I can't put 'im up with 'ee in the way, now," answered the staffer, a huge rolled-up poster in hues of bright pink and red in his hand. "'Twill only take a minute."

---

England
Detailed school records were available only in Hogwarts, but the Ministry records did show house, graduation year, and OWL/NEWT scores, as well as some police notes from the Auror archives. Travers, J. (Slytherin) (imprisoned), was there, of course, as were Wilkes, K. (same) (deceased), and Rosier, E. (likewise) (ditto). They were all noted to be part of a group of friends from their Hogwarts years, apparently spanning a few years in difference; also in that group were Snape, S. (Slytherin) (deceased), Avery Jr., A. (same) (same), and Mulciber, R. (same) (imprisoned).

Of course, the "other associates" list was filled with other Death Eaters, but the actual organizational structure of the Death Eaters was maddeningly vague: Voldemort, it seemed, had taken a page out of an earlier fascist conqueror's book and decided to organize his group in such a way that alliances and institutional loyalties were constantly shifting, with different subgroups of Death Eaters poaching on each others' preserves. The goal appeared to be the preventtion of any cliques, of friendships and loyalties that might challenge his authority. It also effectively scrambled the org chart and made it impossible to ascertain who answered to whom.

Charlie Stross's cheerful, optimistic predictions for 2017, part one of three.

Clark nodded thoughtfully. Nothing terribly new...

"Just a few more questions, then I suspect we'll be done. First, your husband mentioned he was doing 'research'—would you happen to know anything about that? Did he leave any records in your home? Second, would you have any idea as to what he's up to now?"

"Your mission is not to nuke the squid god." —Faramir

Scotland

"You know what, I was just getting up anyway." Warren said as he picked up the files and got to his feet. "Sit tight Chief, I'be got to head out for a bit, but I think I can fix our tea problem."

Making his way out of the dining facility and down the corridor, he took a turn before finally arriving at his office. Dropping the datapad and envelope on his desk, he went over to his bed and began to search.

Finally, after dumping out the majority of gear in his personal bag, he found what he was looking for; a red and gold tin filled with tea bags -the words From mom engraved in flowing script on the lid.

Stuffing it in his cargo pocket, he gathered his things and headed back out into the hall. Pausing for a moment, he looked at the files in his hand then turned and headed straight for the interrogation room. He found Sgt. Browning in dialouge with the RAF policeman, and waited a few seconds before speaking.

"Hey Browning, you want some tea? The paramedics are on the way for our friend here -he said as he motioned towards to injured officer- as for Golsen, he'll be spending some time here."

Lita got out the safehouse and walked a block without looking back at Sinclain, who may or may not have been there, muttering about how late it was and got into a thankfully empty alleyway. She didn't bother to wait for Sinclain, she'd send him a patronus later if it worked... or she'd manifest as a ghost if it didn't, but she had to test this. She disapparated.

Lita apparated inside the bathroom of a cyber café she knew in London, and got out. After talking and paying and getting herself a water bottle, she got onto a computer and google maps. Seconds later, she had a perfect view of Ball's house. She printed the image, got back into the bathroom, and focused on Destination, Determination and Deliberation. Lita apparated directly on top of Ball's house. Several dozen meters directly above Ball's house. Maybe even a fair bit over a hundred. A very fair amount over a hundred.

With her heart beating in her throat, Lita yelled out a cushioning charm.

Give a man a fish, feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, you can't sell him fish anymore. http://thoughtfulspurts.wordpress.com/

Scotland, Oct. 31/Nov. 1
"He mentioned very little," said Claudia. "Only that it hae something with the scrap in the village in 80. Nae records—he were not one to write things down. And I know nothing of whaur he hae gone." She glanced edgewise at Lita, apparently still asleep.

---

Scotland, 200m ASL, Oct. 29.
Contrary winds snatched at Lita and drifted her off-course during her brief fall. The good news was that she was no longer heading for Goslen's roof; the bad news was that it sent her directly into a grove of trees. Luckily for her, the high-strength cushioning charm mostly worked. Unluckily, it wasn't quite enough to dissipate the kinetic energy of a human falling at near-terminal velocity, and redirected instead of absorbed said energy off the bole of an oak that Lita would have otherwise hit. The energy of impact was spread out evenly, at least, so instead of bones breaking and limbs shattering it merely hurt like hell everywhere.

She bounced away from the tree horizontally, fortunately slower, though not without breaking off a shower of heavy branches. After that the cushion proved good enough for one more skid before it gave out completely. Unfortunately it gave out while she still had a significant horizontal velocity component, heading for a gully.

Fortunately the stream bed that she finally came to a rolling stop in was mainly free of rocks. On the plus side, it meant the mud absorbed the impact. On the minus side, it meant the mud absorbed the impact. Being a Scottish burn in late October, it also had the advantage/disadvantage of negating the need for an ice pack.

edited 29th Jul '12 12:18:44 AM by SabresEdge

Charlie Stross's cheerful, optimistic predictions for 2017, part one of three.

Clark nodded thoughtfully. "I believe that's all, Mrs. Barnes. You've been an immense help." He said. "Unless you have anything else you want to add?"

"Your mission is not to nuke the squid god." —Faramir

Lita stayed in the mud for a moment, mourning her dry hair, and clean shirt and jeans. She let out a sigh slumped. Impervious charm on clothes and self. Why did she forget that? Impervious Charm on clothes and self. She shook some of the mud out of one of her hands and used it to clean the mud off her face. Which hurt. A lot. Lita shook off the largest amounts of mud, and fell in her back on the mud again. There was a small splashing sound behind her. And another. And something moved behind her. A chill ran down Lita's spine as she turned slowly and saw the goose.

Nearly an hour later, once she arrived the safehouse, Lita got inside and dragged her feet over to her room and her bathroom. She talked to no one and glared at anyone who dared even begin to ask why she was so covered in mud, tree branches and goose feathers on the way there.

Then she got into a hot shower. Bloody goose.

edited 29th Aug '12 1:10:32 PM by Faramir

Give a man a fish, feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, you can't sell him fish anymore. http://thoughtfulspurts.wordpress.com/

"But his hand is-" Olivia started to object, before recalling exactly what happened when she first met Goslen. She fell silent. Someone else could handle it, and the bastard could learn a thing or two from the pain.

"Yeah, sure, that sounds good actually," she responded, grabbing her shotgun off the table. "He should be alright, he just needs time."

I am become Death, Destroyer of Miniputts.

Scotland
Barnes nodded. "Take care o' the girl," she said simply. "Good night, now."

Through the barred window set on the door, they could see her settling in on a chair; it looked uncomfortable, but she did not seem to mind, dozing off shortly enough, Lita's wand left on the table.

---

England
Chessie's seat was just in position to witness Lita storming by through the door, covered in mud and feathers. One of the minders blinked at that and evidently tried to ask something, but it was clear that Lita either hadn't heard him or was deliberately ignoring him.

"Er, Miss Szymanska, your subordinate...?"

Charlie Stross's cheerful, optimistic predictions for 2017, part one of three.

Scotland

"All right then." Warren said as he motioned for her to follow him. "I've got a ton of paperwork, so I figured I might as well put the kettle on."

With that, he turned around and made.his way back to the dining facility.

Lita finished cleaning up, and began with the small healing spells. After noticing that she now had what appeared to be more bruises than untouched skin, she began with her hands. Casting with bruised hands was always a pain so healing that was important. Then came her face, which looked as though she'd received a beatdown somewhere now that all the mud was gone and the purple, greenish, yellow and red splotches could be seen all throughout it. Next her feet, because walking on bruises is never fun; the rest was secondary.

Lita got dressed at a turtle's speed and let herself fall on her bed in pain. Just a few minutes, then she'd get up and go do the actual interview. Whatever this man said better be worth the pain.

edited 1st Aug '12 9:14:00 AM by Faramir

Give a man a fish, feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, you can't sell him fish anymore. http://thoughtfulspurts.wordpress.com/

Watching Lita pass by Sinclain started to ask where She had been but Lita just glared and walked past, Seeing her state Sinclain could understand why the first thing she wanted to do was to have a nice long shower, Casting a quick Scourgify on the carpet to take care of the mud she was trailing behind her, Sinclain wondered if this was normal for her.

World Domination is such an ugly phrase; I prefer World Optimization

At that moment, Chessie had been weighing asking the desk whether Elvis had been a wizard or doing a drinking/thinking session in the library. Lita's stormy entrance caused her papers to blow to the side a little but otherwise the policewoman remained unfazed. She looked up when the minder spoke, however, "Hm? Miss Lita? Do not work for me, I work for her."

Let God do His work, we will see to ours. Bring in the candles.

Lita stood up after a few minutes of laying down, stretched, and cast a impervious charms on her clean clothes and self. She was wearing a t-shirt and long pants, so the bruises on her upper arms and lower neck were visible slightly. She hadn't bothered to cast healing charms much further, though she did add in some in her back.

She added a few stronger protection spells to her clothes and shoes before finally leaving her room.

"I'm going off to the interview with Ball now. Anyone who wants to come with me better get some protection charms on their clothes." She said, walking to the door.

"So, who's coming?" Lita asked expectantly.

Give a man a fish, feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, you can't sell him fish anymore. http://thoughtfulspurts.wordpress.com/

Chessie calmly lays her papers on a handy end table and looks over at Lita. She sighs before standing up and cracking her back. There didn't seem to be anyone else around, so the girl had to be addressing her. She glanced over at the stairs, "Can get coat first?"

Let God do His work, we will see to ours. Bring in the candles.

"Sure, and add in some protection spells to it." Lita said, still standing by the doorway.

edited 2nd Aug '12 9:05:42 PM by Faramir

Give a man a fish, feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, you can't sell him fish anymore. http://thoughtfulspurts.wordpress.com/