Massachusetts
"Yeah, that's us." Warren said as he stood there in the rain, stealing a few glances at his surroundings before turning his attention back to.the man in front of him. "Now unlike our friends in the Guard over there, we don't have to be in the rain right now; are there any quarters around here?"
James tugged his PCS Foul-Weather jacket down slightly as he stepped off the ramp. He took one look at the rag-tag bunch of soldiers hanging around on the apron, and sighed; while he wasn't a Drill Pig, he was still in half a mind to go shout at them.
"Yup. That tasted purple."
THE SLORG!
Having followed Warren, Alex perked up when he heard the airman. "Did you say National Guard? I used to be in the National Guard, maybe I can talk to them" Alex suggested, figuring it was worth a shot.
You are reading this.
Board Certified Sorcerer
Chessie nods, "Will make sure do so. Now that know way here."
Let God do His work, we will see to ours. Bring in the candles.
I really need a job...
Safehouse
Lita walked into the office after Chessie had left and told her to go in, halfway through eating her apple, and sat down after a respectful nod to Karla.
"So what was it you wanted to talk about?" She asked, biting into her apple after she finished the sentence.
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/
Show an affirming flame
Massachusetts
"If you consider 'hanger floor' as quarters, then yes," said the clerk. "We'll have enough sleeping bags for all of you, but it's MREs for your dinner. Sorry." He grimaced as another mini-convoy drove by, trucks, Humvees, and APCs, driving slowly to avoid planing, then scurried away under his makeshift umbrella to another reception point. "Oh Jesus, I hope they sort this mess out..."
The hanger was empty of equipment and at least dry, though a little damp; as they entered several officers at company and battalion level exchanged salutes with a captain and scattered. Unusually, his insignia indicated full Army, not National Guard or State Defense Force as the others, and the knight's-head PSYOPS insignia. He introduced himself as Captain Wilkins.
"I'm sorry about this," he said. "There's about two or three whole battalions passing through, but they're being grounded because of the storm. You're the Occulus unit, right? Did they tell you anything about why you're here?"
"We could get rained on just fine back in Britain," growled Price. "This is something spook-related, correct?"
Wilkins nodded. "Your name's been making the rounds since the train station raid. The idea is that since you've actually fought with the wizards, you can teach the Guardsmen some of the tricks." He adjusted his glasses as lightning flickered outside.
Farm
As they left they could see Ball packing away most of the crockery, already looking at the flask of slivovitz with undisguised pleasure. It was evident that there was little to his life outside the farm and its few creature comforts; it was evident that they were enough.
London
"You're taking a trip soon," Karla said. She handed Lita a manila envelope. "There's forged identification, a prepaid mobile phone, and some other supplements in there. Pack light, for you'll be leaving within the day."
Spain
"Rodrigo Diaz, tercios," he said. He frowned appraisingly. "Well, I suppose that you will not be doing too much shooting. Your insights will be valuable, but two people are not enough to fight—we would be mistreating our guests if that happened, anyway." Charlie Stross's cheerful, optimistic predictions for 2017, part one of three.
THE SLORG!
Massachusetts
A hangar floor and MREs... Well, it was a roof that shouldn't leak and food that was least guaranteed to be edible; though the taste was another matter. "Ah, the glamorous life of being a special forces operative" Alex sarcastically joked as they entered the hangar.
When Captain Wilkins approached, Alex gave a quick salute. After Wilkens explained why they were there, Alex blinked a few times. "You want us to help train units to fight Whiskeys? That's it? Shouldn't be too hard" Alex said, then thought about why they might be requested to be doing this. "How bad is the situation, anyway? I've been out of the loop in terms of state-side developments since those riots in Salt Lake" he added on, thinking how far back that was. A few months? It felt like forever ago now.
edited 1st Sep '12 3:17:33 AM by FirockFinion
You are reading this.
"Trust me, compared to doing hard routine this is luxury."
"Yup. That tasted purple."
I really need a job...
Safehouse
Lita lifted an eyebrow. "A trip where?"
Farm
Lira sighed as she walked out and then looked at Chess, who'd had an outburst after she'd grabbed Lita's arm to sidealong apparate, apparently unaware that it was pretty much the only scenario that would make sense if Lita offered Chess her arm to grab.
"Chess" She said, lifting her arms as if to show no weapons "No grabbing" she told her, trying to show that if she didn't want to side-along apparate it was fine with Lita, and then disapparated.
She apparated in the alley near the safehouse and waited for Chess to apparate in the same place. If she didn't come there in ten minutes Lita would go back there and check on her, she had a naggging feeling that Chess might have neglected her magical education, but she did know how to apparate, right?
...right?
edited 1st Sep '12 10:47:50 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/
The Man in Black
Clark nodded. "Nice too meet you, Mr. Diaz." He said. Of course that wasn't his real name, but it wasn't particularly relevant at the moment. "As for shooting, I don't expect that we'll be doing much shooting either." Of course, given their luck, that pretty much guaranteed they'd be shooting at something by the end of this mission, but he didn't intend to tell that to his host—at least, not yet.
He had no more questions, so he remained silent.
"Your mission is not to nuke the squid god." —Faramir
Board Certified Sorcerer
Farm
A bit baffled, Chessie stared at the spot Lita had disaparated from. Presumably the younger girl was returning to the safehouse.... though that would've been helpful to confirm before doing anything. Muttering something about 'deliberation' she turned her gaze to the countryside about her. So this was Scotland. Taking a lungful of country air was enough to reaffirm Czeslawa's long held belief that there was nothing quite like the city.
Weighing her options in the greater London area, she eventually decided on the alley nearest their own building over that fine pub outside the shopping district.
London
She popped back into existence with a snap several feet from Lita. Right on the mark again. Definitely not as difficult as it had been in Romania, without the weight of a stooge or any large boxes. Chessie waved at Lita.
Let God do His work, we will see to ours. Bring in the candles.
I really need a job...
London, Oct 29
She should have never doubted Chess. She gave her a little wave before heading back to the safe house. Once inside, she trapped herself in her room. She still had to write up all that stuff for Mr. Clark, and she had to dig up "La Magia de la Mente y el cerebro" from her giant pile of books. The daunting amount of research to do made her put going to St. Mungo's memory repairing ward on her to-do list. Of course, she'd leave later, it was barely mid-afternoon, and she still had to read up on a great many laws—which was boring— and write up more scenarios for her thing.
Lita didn't know how a formal proposal was supposed to go, and she wasn't actually a diplomat, but she figured formal speculation would at least help.
She grabbed two small marbles that were on her bedside table. Her magical outbursts were getting to be an enormous annoyance, and every time she thought she had them under control they cropped up again. Lita didn't know what she'd do to make them stop, but she'd found a way to calm them down a bit, which was interestingly enough, using magic.
The outbursts seemed to happen not only when she got angry or upset, but also at almost random times, as if she'd found a new enormous reserve of power and if she didn't do anything it would leak out in the form of things breaking or moving or changing colour. So doing something with it was the obvious solution. She'd keep the two marbles floating mid-air and orbiting each other and changing colour every few minutes. If her magic was being used on that, it would be less likely to go off and destroy her table.
Of course, she hadn't managed to make it work while she slept yet, but she'd been a bit busy.
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/
November 1st,
Paxton woke up, briefly wondering where he was, before remembering the strange events of the last few days.
Hearing footsteps outside the door he slipped on his robes over his pajamas resolving to get dressed later.
Poking his head out the door he sees Chessie out side and says "Hey whats happening?"
No matter how subtle the wizard, a knife between the shoulder blades will seriously cramp his style.
Massachusetts
"Well it's glad to know that we're so popular." Warren said as he extended his hand to Cpt. Wilkins "Give my guys a minute to get situated here, and we'll start bringing your men up to speed.
Warren paused for a moment before taking stock of the men and women milling about the hanger in various states of urgency.
"Just another fun side quest."
Board Certified Sorcerer
Waving back at the fellow from the ministry, Czeslawa shrugged, "No sure. Just talk to Karla, people going places. Have good nap?"
Let God do His work, we will see to ours. Bring in the candles.
Show an affirming flame
Otis ANGB
"Locally things have been...well, the Guard's been doing mainly presence patrols and the like," said Wilkins, in a clinical but disapproving tone, as he shook hands with Warren. "Stepped-up law enforcement, the occasional raid into the woods. They did have to deploy for three near-riots, though." Wilkins smiled. "We resolved those peacefully. Anyway, the idea was for you to work with the trainers over in Camp Edwards, but the quarters are being rebuilt."
Somebody called "Captain Wilkins" from outside, almost plaintively, and he shook his head. "That'll be Jennings, she's completely new...one moment! I'll be back." Wilkins rushed outside to deal with whatever new crisis was unfolding, pausing only to grab a fancy-looking umbrella.
Mossos d'Esquadra Building, Catalonia
It was dark by the time the jeep pulled up to the building, the last of the sunlight illuminating the tips of the Pyrenees in the north. Within a ten-minute span Clark had received three email messages on his personal phone. Two, routing from Langley, directed him to join the rest of the team at Otis ANGB as soon as possible—and thirty seconds later rescinded that order, instead telling him to continue as usual.
The third came from a throwaway mail account, one that he and Erik Alzey had agreed for contact use, sent from an anonymized IP. On the face of it, the message purported to list "data request, as per talked about last Saturday", followed up a series of alphanumeric jumbles. "Last Saturday" meant time-sensitive, though not flash-priority. And in the random blocks of scrambled characters, stripped of padding to hide its message length, were Alzey's true message, laboriously encoded by hand using a one-time-pad. Clark's PDA, fortunately, could decode it automatically.
Meet at Mac's bar Boston urgent. Sith undertakings afoot.
Bar in Boston, MA/Character introduction: Grace-Ann May
"...and that was the last time I spoke with her. That was three days ago," said the man in the duster. Erik Alzey, licensed private investigator, was tall and dark but questionably handsome. He was also getting far too used to dealing with beautiful women, which was why he was somewhat on guard dealing with the veela sitting across from him at the table. "Have you met Karen anytime soon?"
The case of the facts, so far as Alzey had told her, were these: Lieutenant Karen Murray, Boston PD investigator and close friend, had reported that a missing-persons case might have had magical overtones to it. She'd promised to bring the full details to him, but she had mentioned a village, Innsmouth.
London
"Spain," said Karla. "I have had some business there in the past few days, and I believe it is something you would be interested in." She paused for half a beat. "In particular, one William Garza would like to see you again. Your grandfather." Charlie Stross's cheerful, optimistic predictions for 2017, part one of three.
Amateur Biologist
Bar in Boston, MA
Grace-Ann May sat across from the man in the duster, slouched in her chair with her lips drawn down in a frown. “Yeah,” she drawled, “I met with her yesterday mornin’.”
The veela picked up her glass and took a long drink, then grimaced. “Always better at home,” she muttered, then turned back to the PI. “Innsmouth, Innsmouth," she said, tapping her chin in thought, "Ain’t ringin’ any bells, Mister Alzey, I’m sorry. She didn’t mention anythin’ about work to me. Boy, she was thrilled though, when she heard I was gonna be in town for a few days—visitin’ some of my parents’ family, you know,” she added, finishing off her glass and reaching for the bottle. “We met up ’n ate breakfast at the Ihop at nine, but she said she had some meetin’s to get to at eleven-thirty, so she packed up ’n we left around eleven. You ain’t heard from her in three days, you say?”
Karen, what are you up to now?
edited 4th Sep '12 4:49:50 PM by Windee
I added psychology to my biology.
Otis ANGB
Guess it's back to teaching. Warren said as he shook his head and lit up a cigarette. The rain outside still hadn't let up, and this recent turn of events did little to ease his mind. Shrugging his shoulders at no one in particular, he put his hands in his pockets and waited for Cpt. Wilkins to return.
I really need a job...
London, November 1st
The moment "Spain" came out of Karla's mouth, Lita's face lit up with a grin that only intensified when she mentioned her grandfather's name, to the point where it was unclear whether or not a bit of thin proto-patronus fog was surrounding her for a moment.
"That's awesome! When do we leave? What do I pack? Why forged identification and phone?" She asked, with increasing speed, happy and eager like the overachieving schoolgirl she was supposed to be "Abuelito va a estar super orgulloso cuando se entere que yo hice un patronus sin varita! A que el se puso a modificar mi anillo sin decirme— Y a que termino los zapatos flotadores! What are we doing there? Where in Spain are we going? Visitaremos la tienda?" She said, at a speed so high some might have thought it could only be achieved magically.
"Who else will be there? Will we get to go to Madrid? Will there—" Lita coughed for a moment on a small segment of apple she han't swallowed in all the excitement. "um.. ah... right. Anyway, when are we leaving?"
edited 5th Sep '12 11:52:43 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/
The Man in Black
Clark raised an eyebrow—he'd not expected to get anything from Erik. It must have been especially important, considering he used a one-time pad. Sounded like some "bad juju," as Erik might have put it. He'd have to give OCCULUS the heads up. He composed a reply to Erik.
Occupied ATM, will warn reliable help. Send details, help is not subtle, will anon. relay info.
The other two messages were interesting—there was some disagreement, apparently, at Langley. Whether this was intentional on someone's part (or something malicious? he doubted it, but something to keep in mind) or a pure accident, he didn't know, but he decided to note it.
edited 4th Sep '12 8:44:57 PM by Wysp
"Your mission is not to nuke the squid god." —Faramir
Not sure what to say Paxton just shrugged and nodded, then headed downstairs to talk to Karla.
No matter how subtle the wizard, a knife between the shoulder blades will seriously cramp his style.
THE SLORG!
Otis ANGB
Alex listened to Wilkins explain the local events, thinking that it didn't sound great, but not too bad either. After Wilkins left and Warren made his comment, Alex glanced at Warren. "I think this'll be the first time I've ever had to teach somebody else rather than the other way around" Alex commented, then looked around for somewhere to sit down.
Unfortunately, the hangar was pretty empty, so he settled on the floor with his back leaning against one of the supports on the walls.
You are reading this.
Otis ANGB
"It's not as horrible as it sounds." Warren said between drags of his cigarette. "I used to do it before I got into this line of work, at least this time around they speak english."
Show an affirming flame
Boston
"No," said Alzey, unobtrusively scribbling away at a corner of a piece of paper. "Yesterday morning, huh? I'm glad to hear that." Despite his outward relaxation Grace-Ann could see the hidden, taut alertness. "Did she say anything to you?"
London
The door was closed, but Paxton was in time to hear Lita's excited exclamations, in Spanish, and Karla's nonplussed answers, in English.
"We are leaving for the Barcelona consulate in the afternoon. There should not be any work associates there, though this will be partly business, so pack heavy—though with nothing incriminating should we be stopped." There was perhaps a chiding undertone. "Oh, and one thing. Give me your mobile phone."
This last accompanied with a sudden though characteristically grim thoughtfulness.
Catalonia
"We're here," said Colonel Diaz. The building was plain and nondescript aside from the small Policia sign on the front, though the lobby was much more crowded that usual, and brown-green army uniforms contrasted with black/blue police and dark-suited civilians. Neither Browning nor Clark attracted much attention.
The debriefing room, a repurposed lounge, currently held the man of the hour. Caporal Colom's uniform was stained with dirt and grease, and he looked bedraggled and worn. Yet his eyes were clear from fatigue, though red-rimmed, and in between deep drags of his cigarette he answered volubly in Catalan to the questioners.
Otis ANGB
There was a screeching of brakes outside, dopplering upward for a moment and accompanied by frenzied shouting and the beginning of a truck horn's blare, and then a tremendous crashing bang, the closest hanger wall denting inward as though the metal was hit by a giant's sledgehammer. Simultaneously the slashing wind rose through an abrupt howl, for a moment sounding alien and vast and chillingly alive, resonating across otherworldly octaves—
Perspective shifted, no longer bound to close-set pairs of human eyes; instead, with impossible clarity: the dance of individual raindrops and ice particles, fractal edges already eroded by their journey; the kinked fields of radio energy, the chord of wind and water and the scream of stressed metal suspended like amber in the air, the huddle of tiny human beings in the warmth of the hanger, the cab of the truck outside caught in a sudden unbalance of physical forces, the ice crackling away from the crumpling metal fender, the pale uncomprehending shock of the driver, his forward momentum only just arrested by his safety belt.
And above all, the spray of warm blood from the mangled body between fender and wall that had been the scurrying clerk, centered in attention with a terrible exultation; the few tiny living humans moving with incomprehensible slowness unimportant and peripheral, their actions an ineffectual distraction from the only thing that mattered—the life that was stripped away from its bloody body like an unwinding watchspring, which alone moved in this world, worthy of focus—
Then it was over; the vortex of the alien attention had receded, perspective returned to human senses, time flowed again. The hanger trembled and rang with the delayed reverberations of the impact, the shouts and screams of men and women outside rose belatedly in alarm, and above all the renewed scream of the wind, louder and more insistent than a jet turbine but now lacking the strange organic quality that it had taken not half a heartbeat before.
Charlie Stross's cheerful, optimistic predictions for 2017, part one of three.
Farm
"Oh, right" Lita drank what was now a full cup of cold-ish tea in a hurry before handing it back to him.
"Good afternoon sir" She said, and headed for the door.
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/