Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Brickstown has little crime, they said. After all, the prison's there, they said.
Guadeloupe DeJesus gathered her books closer to her as she walked by the five Council men, standing on their soap box. "Our numbers will only grow! You, too, will understand our strength. We will soon be willing and able to take control of this city, to bring peace and end the oppression of those so-called heroes."
She bent her head and kept walking. They were silent as she walked by them, but she could feel their eyes on her, assessing her. She hunkered down and picked up her pace, then saw a pair of black and blue boots step before her. She jerked, pulled her head up.
"What is that book?" The Council man in a mask demanded.
She looked at the book in her arms. "It's only...It's about Prenatal Medical P--"
The Council man tore it out of her arms. He turned it over in his hands, opened the cover. He examined a few pages, while Guadeloupe tried to look unconcerned, but wasn't doing a very good job as she wiped sweat from her forehead.
"Where are you from?"
"Arizona," she said quietly, looking at the book and watching his hands page through it.
"No, what country are you from?"
"My... my parents were from El Salvador."
The blue-clad man focused black eyes on her. "Where were you born?"
"El Salvador," she whispered.
The man slammed the book shut. "Are you legal?"
"I'm a student," she protested. "I'm here on a student visa."
"And we're paying for your education, aren't we, wetback?"
She flinched at the slur.
"You come across the border illegally! We welcome you with open arms! We give you an education! All for FREE! We, WE pay for whatever YOU do. What do we get in return? A constantly pregnant hoochie-mama, who milks the system and neglects what five children she already has, so she can sit on the porch of her subsidized housing and smoke crack!"
He threw the book in the air. There was the crackle of gunfire that made her duck and the local people bolt for the nearest cover. She heard herself screech as she hit the sidewalk.
The blue-clad leader laughed, and Guadeloupe risked a peek from the sidewalk. She saw papers falling down like leaves from a tree in autumn, the remnants of her book. He turned and spoke, standing ominously over her, "Know your place, bitch."
"Okay, that's quite enough."
Guadeloupe turned her head to see a tall and broad white-haired man, dressed in a dark green t-shirt and blue jeans. He seemed to be barely holding in his anger as he glared at the Council member.
"Well, well, well, it's Sweetness and Light come to save the day. What a hero!"
He tilted his head. "You know something, I'm really not. But you destroyed a perfectly good book and that I will not abide."
Guadeloupe stared unabashedly at the man. Then he broke out into a grin, looked down at her and winked. A second later, light erupted from his hand and a bolt of energy knocked the blue-clad man away.
Gunfire erupted all around her. She covered her head with her hands and arms and tried not to scream. She felt the earth shake under her and heard the cries of men getting beaten. She stayed that way, even while the sounds of moaning men faded away as their bodies were teleported to the Zig or the hospital.
She felt a touch on her shoulder and jerked up with a cry. "It's okay," the white-haired man said. Guadeloupe turned, latched onto him. She started shaking, and the man gathered her close to him, his huge body covering hers.
"They're gone. It's okay. I took care of them. They won't bother you anymore."
She didn't realize she was crying until she sniffled loudly.
"Thank you!" she cried, burying her head in his chest. The man let out a long sigh.
"You are so welcome." He lifted her head with a finger under her chin. His eyes blazed with white light for a moment and then he blinked, extinguishing the light. He smiled warmly. "Let's see about getting you another book, huh?"
As he helped her up, she saw that he glowed.
Guadeloupe DeJesus gathered her books closer to her as she walked by the five Council men, standing on their soap box. "Our numbers will only grow! You, too, will understand our strength. We will soon be willing and able to take control of this city, to bring peace and end the oppression of those so-called heroes."
She bent her head and kept walking. They were silent as she walked by them, but she could feel their eyes on her, assessing her. She hunkered down and picked up her pace, then saw a pair of black and blue boots step before her. She jerked, pulled her head up.
"What is that book?" The Council man in a mask demanded.
She looked at the book in her arms. "It's only...It's about Prenatal Medical P--"
The Council man tore it out of her arms. He turned it over in his hands, opened the cover. He examined a few pages, while Guadeloupe tried to look unconcerned, but wasn't doing a very good job as she wiped sweat from her forehead.
"Where are you from?"
"Arizona," she said quietly, looking at the book and watching his hands page through it.
"No, what country are you from?"
"My... my parents were from El Salvador."
The blue-clad man focused black eyes on her. "Where were you born?"
"El Salvador," she whispered.
The man slammed the book shut. "Are you legal?"
"I'm a student," she protested. "I'm here on a student visa."
"And we're paying for your education, aren't we, wetback?"
She flinched at the slur.
"You come across the border illegally! We welcome you with open arms! We give you an education! All for FREE! We, WE pay for whatever YOU do. What do we get in return? A constantly pregnant hoochie-mama, who milks the system and neglects what five children she already has, so she can sit on the porch of her subsidized housing and smoke crack!"
He threw the book in the air. There was the crackle of gunfire that made her duck and the local people bolt for the nearest cover. She heard herself screech as she hit the sidewalk.
The blue-clad leader laughed, and Guadeloupe risked a peek from the sidewalk. She saw papers falling down like leaves from a tree in autumn, the remnants of her book. He turned and spoke, standing ominously over her, "Know your place, bitch."
"Okay, that's quite enough."
Guadeloupe turned her head to see a tall and broad white-haired man, dressed in a dark green t-shirt and blue jeans. He seemed to be barely holding in his anger as he glared at the Council member.
"Well, well, well, it's Sweetness and Light come to save the day. What a hero!"
He tilted his head. "You know something, I'm really not. But you destroyed a perfectly good book and that I will not abide."
Guadeloupe stared unabashedly at the man. Then he broke out into a grin, looked down at her and winked. A second later, light erupted from his hand and a bolt of energy knocked the blue-clad man away.
Gunfire erupted all around her. She covered her head with her hands and arms and tried not to scream. She felt the earth shake under her and heard the cries of men getting beaten. She stayed that way, even while the sounds of moaning men faded away as their bodies were teleported to the Zig or the hospital.
She felt a touch on her shoulder and jerked up with a cry. "It's okay," the white-haired man said. Guadeloupe turned, latched onto him. She started shaking, and the man gathered her close to him, his huge body covering hers.
"They're gone. It's okay. I took care of them. They won't bother you anymore."
She didn't realize she was crying until she sniffled loudly.
"Thank you!" she cried, burying her head in his chest. The man let out a long sigh.
"You are so welcome." He lifted her head with a finger under her chin. His eyes blazed with white light for a moment and then he blinked, extinguishing the light. He smiled warmly. "Let's see about getting you another book, huh?"
As he helped her up, she saw that he glowed.
The room was covered in blood.
Dried blood was in a starry circle on the floor. Some blood was splashed along the walls. He smelled fresh and old blood, sickeningly sweet herbs and incense, and deep scents of the earth and the grave.
This makes me sick.
This disturbed Jack? Jack of all people was afraid of magic? Masonry put his head up and walked further into the room.
"Oy, mate, don' cross tha' line."
He stopped, turned to where the voice was coming from. A young blond man, in a black robe, jeans, and barefoot walked across the cold stones over to him. "I'm s'prised the wards let ya in. When I set 'em, they turn people inta Swiss cheese."
Masonry parted his jacket to show a series of holes in his shirt.
"Oh. Well'en, how c'n I help ya, since yer so d'termined." Wombat walked across the room and sat on an old wooden desk chair, tilting it back on its springs. He motioned to a chair but Masonry remained standing.
"You made something for a friend of mine. It works too well."
"Whazzat, mate?"
"A fire jewel."
"Keen Frost. Yeah, I r'member. Put it in a box and put it 'way."
"No, he took it out. It's attached to his gloves. He uses it every day. And it's killing him."
Wombat sat forward. "Howcome?"
"He's got radiation poisoning. His ice slows down the degeneration, but when he heats up, it accelerates it."
"Ah, mate, so ev'ry time he put 'em gloves on - oh, I see. Does he know?"
"That the fire jewel does that? Yes."
"Well'en." He sat back again. "He knows what he's doin'."
Masonry looked pained, turned his eyes back out to the room.
"He tol' me he wanted t' touch people an' be normal. He's as normal as he c'n be, but it ll be short."
Masonry took a deep breath and said, "I don't want him to die."
Wombat got up and smiled. "Mate, he ain' ever gonna die. He's ri' there." He pointed to Masonry's head.
"Small comfort."
"Wha's better, mate, t' know he was happy slummin' wi' 'is boys or tha' he spent 'is last days in bed starin' at a ceiling?"
He tried to not look like he was pleading. "Make something... something that... I don't know."
"Mate, I c'n make some'in t' calm ya down."
NO! cried Jack.
"Um, no thanks."
"Suit y'rself." He shrugged, folded his arms across his chest. His countenance said, Leave. Masonry passed his eyes across the room, then focused on Wombat's desk. Masonry nodded toward a deck of tarot cards lying there. "You read cards?"
He looked at the cards. "S'mtimes. T' get ideas f'r charms."
"Do they really tell your future?"
"They tell y'r future fr'm this moment in time. Y' could still go outside an' get hit by a truck an' I'da never seen it."
"How do you do it?"
Wombat reached over and picked up the deck. He shuffled them quickly, and handed them to Masonry. "Shuffle 'em a' leas' three times."
They were bigger than a normal deck of cards, but his hands were large enough to shuffle them easily. "Done," he said, intentionally losing count after three.
Wombat took the deck, held it to his chest and closed his eyes. He mumbled something, then set the deck down, squaring it off. With a flick of his wrist, he spread the deck flat. "Pick three cards, put 'em down. Anywhere."
Masonry took his finger and followed the line of cards, stopping when he felt he could. "Face up?"
"Any way you want."
He turned the first one over and put it down on the desk above the fan of cards. It was upside down.
"Eh eh, don' turn i'right."
He left the card there, picked another. His eyes widened at that one as he placed it next to the first. Then he picked a third, placed it next to the second. He stepped back.
Wombat peered at the cards, then looked at Masonry. "The Hanged Man reversed. It's somebody who sacrifices but isn't really. Who sacrifices but makes a lotta noise doin' it."
Masonry closed his eyes. "Yeah."
Wombat pointed to the middle card. "There's like five dif'rn' cards in th' deck tha' show lovers. Most of 'em are minor'cana - you pick'd the major'cana. Two major'cana so far - 't means it's all b'yond yer control, mate, an' you prob'ly can't do nothin' t' change it."
"What's a majorcana?"
"There's two sets o' cards, Minor Arcana - which 's numbers an' suits, an' Major Arcana, archetypes."
I'll explain later, Jack assured him.
"Okay, sorry. So that major arcana Lovers means..?"
"Whaddya think, big man?"
Masonry blushed.
"More'n sex, mate. Pure love."
"I have that?"
"'pends on how this'n resolves." He pointed to the Hanged Man. "If 'e realizes tha' his sacrifices don' mean nuthin' no matter how much noise he makes, then this'll happen."
If you stop sacrificing, and looking around to make sure people know you're sacrificing, then it'll fall into place.
Masonry nodded. "Okay, I understand that."
"Eight of staves. Change. Lotsa change. Nothin' static. But ya gotta get this other stuff fixed first, rockman. Or th' changes'll hurt."
He touched the card, narrowing his eyes at it. "Why not the death card?"
"Death means y're ready for th' change, it's happenin' or happened." He motioned to the card. "That means stuff happenin' too fast, an' you gotta change wi'it." He gathered up the fanned deck leaving the three cards out. "Ge'y'r foundations solid, mate."
He nodded, chewing on that. "Okay, thanks."
"One more thing, mate."
Masonry focused on Wombat.
"Ain' jus' you ou' there. Time t' be a hero."
Masonry swallowed hard and walked back out to the wards, preferring to have that pepper his body over Wombat's words tearing his soul.
Dried blood was in a starry circle on the floor. Some blood was splashed along the walls. He smelled fresh and old blood, sickeningly sweet herbs and incense, and deep scents of the earth and the grave.
This makes me sick.
This disturbed Jack? Jack of all people was afraid of magic? Masonry put his head up and walked further into the room.
"Oy, mate, don' cross tha' line."
He stopped, turned to where the voice was coming from. A young blond man, in a black robe, jeans, and barefoot walked across the cold stones over to him. "I'm s'prised the wards let ya in. When I set 'em, they turn people inta Swiss cheese."
Masonry parted his jacket to show a series of holes in his shirt.
"Oh. Well'en, how c'n I help ya, since yer so d'termined." Wombat walked across the room and sat on an old wooden desk chair, tilting it back on its springs. He motioned to a chair but Masonry remained standing.
"You made something for a friend of mine. It works too well."
"Whazzat, mate?"
"A fire jewel."
"Keen Frost. Yeah, I r'member. Put it in a box and put it 'way."
"No, he took it out. It's attached to his gloves. He uses it every day. And it's killing him."
Wombat sat forward. "Howcome?"
"He's got radiation poisoning. His ice slows down the degeneration, but when he heats up, it accelerates it."
"Ah, mate, so ev'ry time he put 'em gloves on - oh, I see. Does he know?"
"That the fire jewel does that? Yes."
"Well'en." He sat back again. "He knows what he's doin'."
Masonry looked pained, turned his eyes back out to the room.
"He tol' me he wanted t' touch people an' be normal. He's as normal as he c'n be, but it ll be short."
Masonry took a deep breath and said, "I don't want him to die."
Wombat got up and smiled. "Mate, he ain' ever gonna die. He's ri' there." He pointed to Masonry's head.
"Small comfort."
"Wha's better, mate, t' know he was happy slummin' wi' 'is boys or tha' he spent 'is last days in bed starin' at a ceiling?"
He tried to not look like he was pleading. "Make something... something that... I don't know."
"Mate, I c'n make some'in t' calm ya down."
NO! cried Jack.
"Um, no thanks."
"Suit y'rself." He shrugged, folded his arms across his chest. His countenance said, Leave. Masonry passed his eyes across the room, then focused on Wombat's desk. Masonry nodded toward a deck of tarot cards lying there. "You read cards?"
He looked at the cards. "S'mtimes. T' get ideas f'r charms."
"Do they really tell your future?"
"They tell y'r future fr'm this moment in time. Y' could still go outside an' get hit by a truck an' I'da never seen it."
"How do you do it?"
Wombat reached over and picked up the deck. He shuffled them quickly, and handed them to Masonry. "Shuffle 'em a' leas' three times."
They were bigger than a normal deck of cards, but his hands were large enough to shuffle them easily. "Done," he said, intentionally losing count after three.
Wombat took the deck, held it to his chest and closed his eyes. He mumbled something, then set the deck down, squaring it off. With a flick of his wrist, he spread the deck flat. "Pick three cards, put 'em down. Anywhere."
Masonry took his finger and followed the line of cards, stopping when he felt he could. "Face up?"
"Any way you want."
He turned the first one over and put it down on the desk above the fan of cards. It was upside down.
"Eh eh, don' turn i'right."
He left the card there, picked another. His eyes widened at that one as he placed it next to the first. Then he picked a third, placed it next to the second. He stepped back.
Wombat peered at the cards, then looked at Masonry. "The Hanged Man reversed. It's somebody who sacrifices but isn't really. Who sacrifices but makes a lotta noise doin' it."
Masonry closed his eyes. "Yeah."
Wombat pointed to the middle card. "There's like five dif'rn' cards in th' deck tha' show lovers. Most of 'em are minor'cana - you pick'd the major'cana. Two major'cana so far - 't means it's all b'yond yer control, mate, an' you prob'ly can't do nothin' t' change it."
"What's a majorcana?"
"There's two sets o' cards, Minor Arcana - which 's numbers an' suits, an' Major Arcana, archetypes."
I'll explain later, Jack assured him.
"Okay, sorry. So that major arcana Lovers means..?"
"Whaddya think, big man?"
Masonry blushed.
"More'n sex, mate. Pure love."
"I have that?"
"'pends on how this'n resolves." He pointed to the Hanged Man. "If 'e realizes tha' his sacrifices don' mean nuthin' no matter how much noise he makes, then this'll happen."
If you stop sacrificing, and looking around to make sure people know you're sacrificing, then it'll fall into place.
Masonry nodded. "Okay, I understand that."
"Eight of staves. Change. Lotsa change. Nothin' static. But ya gotta get this other stuff fixed first, rockman. Or th' changes'll hurt."
He touched the card, narrowing his eyes at it. "Why not the death card?"
"Death means y're ready for th' change, it's happenin' or happened." He motioned to the card. "That means stuff happenin' too fast, an' you gotta change wi'it." He gathered up the fanned deck leaving the three cards out. "Ge'y'r foundations solid, mate."
He nodded, chewing on that. "Okay, thanks."
"One more thing, mate."
Masonry focused on Wombat.
"Ain' jus' you ou' there. Time t' be a hero."
Masonry swallowed hard and walked back out to the wards, preferring to have that pepper his body over Wombat's words tearing his soul.
Friday, June 8, 2007
"I don't want them looking at me waiting for me to die any second."
Nate yawned and opened the bathroom door onto the "bar room". He heard the sound of lightly tinkling bells, which meant someone was coming through the teleporter.
It's six a.m. Who the hell..?
A woman's form materialized. She was very short with shoulder-length black hair, dressed in a simple shirt, jeans, and sneakers. A bow and a quiver of arrows was strapped to her back. She looked stunned for a minute, looked around, and swore, even more colorfully than he could.
He raised an eyebrow at her, as she stepped out of the infirmary section. "God damn mother fucking arrow build - he could have given me a fucking TA, but at least I don't have to keep drawing the fucking thing after I get the fucking snowstorm going! Fucking bow!" She started to try and break it over her thigh, but the bow only bent.
"Need help?"
She stopped, looked up at him, and her mouth dropped in shock. "Holy shit, you're cute."
He chuckled gently. "Some have said that saves me from certain death." He put his hand out. "Need help with that?"
She looked at the bow, still sitting across her thigh shere she was trying break it. She looked up at him, standing there with his hand out. She walked over and handed it to him.
He took both ends and brought them together against the curve. It snapped in half, sending shrapnel in all directions.
"Damn," she muttered and looked at her arm. A piece of shrapnel, about three inches long, stuck out of her bicep.
He took her arm gently. "It's a flesh wound." He pulled the piece out; she didn't even flinch. No blood flowed. He narrowed his eyes at her. "You don't bleed."
"Of course I don't bleed, this is a game." She took the pieces of the bow out of his hands. "When I get back up there I'll have a brand new bow and quiver of arrows. Every single time."
"Do you... do you feel?"
"Feel what?"
"Pain."
"No, my HP goes down."
"You don't feel the elements? Heat? Cold?"
"No. Can't smell anything either. I'm a pixel person, just like you."
"Oh..." He nodded knowingly, "Frosty talked about you."
"Probably said I should go to the asylum in Nerva."
"He didn't go that far. But he spoke highly of you. What's your name?"
"Fethshael. And you're Masonry Redux."
"Huh? No. Just Masonry. Or Mase."
She glanced above his head for a moment. "Whatever."
"Are you hungry? I have a couple of hours until I have to to work."
"Hungry? Well, I guess, but I can't go into the restaurants."
"Why not?" he laughed.
She crossed her arms. "You'll see."
He decided to take her to the Happy Duck in Talos. She showed up outside the restraunt in about ten minutes, since she was coming from Skyway.
He held the door open for her. She took two steps and banged against an invisible wall. "There it is, it says in white letters, 'You cannot enter.'"
Masonry looked around the door's front. "Where?"
"Forget it, they're gone now. I can only go into the stores and missions."
"Oh. Well let me get you something. What would you like?"
"Clam roll. With the bellies."
"Gotcha." He placed his order and was surprised when it came out - it wasn't even on the menu. He took his own chicken sandwich and met her outside. She sat forlornly at one of the many pools in the city.
He handed it to her and sat next to her. She took one of the clams out of the roll and popped it in her mouth. She looked down at the roll.
"What's wrong?" He had his chicken sandwich half done already.
"It doesn't taste like anything." She put it down next to her. "I don't feel, I don't smell, now I don't taste. God, this fucking sucks."
"Let me try one."
She handed him the plate and he took a bite. "Tastes fine to me."
"It's yours. Sorry Masonry."
"It's okay." He ate that too. "Wait, what did you say, you don't feel?"
She shook her head. "Nope." She put her hand in the water and swished it around. "Doesn't feel wet."
"So cold, you don't feel it?"
"I feel the effects, like slow effects. And holds. But I don't feel cold. I don't feel heat. My end and HP go down and I can see that but I don't feel it."
He crossed his arms across his chest. "Does Frosty know this?"
She shrugged. "He's a 40. I'm a 25. The sk would be horrible on his xp."
Masonry blinked. "I don't understand a word you just said."
She sighed. "No, you wouldn't. Your player's pretty good."
Raising an eyebrow, he said, "My 'player'?"
"Nevermind."
He growled, "I really hate that word."
She turned and focused on him, and Masonry saw that she looked scared.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said it like that."
She swallowed. "Sure."
"Listen, let me make it up to you. Tool around with me for a little while, can you do that?"
She shrugged. "Not like I have any timed mishes."
He looked at her and thought, She doesn't feel...
Nate yawned and opened the bathroom door onto the "bar room". He heard the sound of lightly tinkling bells, which meant someone was coming through the teleporter.
It's six a.m. Who the hell..?
A woman's form materialized. She was very short with shoulder-length black hair, dressed in a simple shirt, jeans, and sneakers. A bow and a quiver of arrows was strapped to her back. She looked stunned for a minute, looked around, and swore, even more colorfully than he could.
He raised an eyebrow at her, as she stepped out of the infirmary section. "God damn mother fucking arrow build - he could have given me a fucking TA, but at least I don't have to keep drawing the fucking thing after I get the fucking snowstorm going! Fucking bow!" She started to try and break it over her thigh, but the bow only bent.
"Need help?"
She stopped, looked up at him, and her mouth dropped in shock. "Holy shit, you're cute."
He chuckled gently. "Some have said that saves me from certain death." He put his hand out. "Need help with that?"
She looked at the bow, still sitting across her thigh shere she was trying break it. She looked up at him, standing there with his hand out. She walked over and handed it to him.
He took both ends and brought them together against the curve. It snapped in half, sending shrapnel in all directions.
"Damn," she muttered and looked at her arm. A piece of shrapnel, about three inches long, stuck out of her bicep.
He took her arm gently. "It's a flesh wound." He pulled the piece out; she didn't even flinch. No blood flowed. He narrowed his eyes at her. "You don't bleed."
"Of course I don't bleed, this is a game." She took the pieces of the bow out of his hands. "When I get back up there I'll have a brand new bow and quiver of arrows. Every single time."
"Do you... do you feel?"
"Feel what?"
"Pain."
"No, my HP goes down."
"You don't feel the elements? Heat? Cold?"
"No. Can't smell anything either. I'm a pixel person, just like you."
"Oh..." He nodded knowingly, "Frosty talked about you."
"Probably said I should go to the asylum in Nerva."
"He didn't go that far. But he spoke highly of you. What's your name?"
"Fethshael. And you're Masonry Redux."
"Huh? No. Just Masonry. Or Mase."
She glanced above his head for a moment. "Whatever."
"Are you hungry? I have a couple of hours until I have to to work."
"Hungry? Well, I guess, but I can't go into the restaurants."
"Why not?" he laughed.
She crossed her arms. "You'll see."
He decided to take her to the Happy Duck in Talos. She showed up outside the restraunt in about ten minutes, since she was coming from Skyway.
He held the door open for her. She took two steps and banged against an invisible wall. "There it is, it says in white letters, 'You cannot enter.'"
Masonry looked around the door's front. "Where?"
"Forget it, they're gone now. I can only go into the stores and missions."
"Oh. Well let me get you something. What would you like?"
"Clam roll. With the bellies."
"Gotcha." He placed his order and was surprised when it came out - it wasn't even on the menu. He took his own chicken sandwich and met her outside. She sat forlornly at one of the many pools in the city.
He handed it to her and sat next to her. She took one of the clams out of the roll and popped it in her mouth. She looked down at the roll.
"What's wrong?" He had his chicken sandwich half done already.
"It doesn't taste like anything." She put it down next to her. "I don't feel, I don't smell, now I don't taste. God, this fucking sucks."
"Let me try one."
She handed him the plate and he took a bite. "Tastes fine to me."
"It's yours. Sorry Masonry."
"It's okay." He ate that too. "Wait, what did you say, you don't feel?"
She shook her head. "Nope." She put her hand in the water and swished it around. "Doesn't feel wet."
"So cold, you don't feel it?"
"I feel the effects, like slow effects. And holds. But I don't feel cold. I don't feel heat. My end and HP go down and I can see that but I don't feel it."
He crossed his arms across his chest. "Does Frosty know this?"
She shrugged. "He's a 40. I'm a 25. The sk would be horrible on his xp."
Masonry blinked. "I don't understand a word you just said."
She sighed. "No, you wouldn't. Your player's pretty good."
Raising an eyebrow, he said, "My 'player'?"
"Nevermind."
He growled, "I really hate that word."
She turned and focused on him, and Masonry saw that she looked scared.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said it like that."
She swallowed. "Sure."
"Listen, let me make it up to you. Tool around with me for a little while, can you do that?"
She shrugged. "Not like I have any timed mishes."
He looked at her and thought, She doesn't feel...
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
I'm getting irritated with Masonry. I started writing this with an entirely different ending in mind, that Mase would understand "Laughter is the best medicine" and ended up with this. Yes, it's in character. But it bothers me that he won't change.
Masonry tore off the bucket helm and threw it, watching it slam into and through a metal box near the warehouse.
Nate -
They laughed at me!
Which was the purpose!
He looked down at his lime green pants with the blue diamonds. "I can't believe you talked me into this!"
Nate -
"Frosty was uncomfortable with it, he probably thinks I'm going to go get myself a mask next - and...they laughed at me!"
Nate.
"And things are still all fucked up, E's still dying, and you made them all laugh at me."
When we first started the night, E was discussing how he was dying. By the end of the evening, he had a smile on his face, which is better than what we began, don't you think? And Fyre probably found it amusing.
"She would." A pedestrian walking past him stopped to look at him when he spoke. He glared. The woman kept walking.
Nate, is there a difference between your being a punching bag for Fyre or E, or being the butt of a joke?
"Of course there is."
What?
"I can take being hit. I want them to hit me until all their anger and frustration is out. I want them to do everything they want to destroy me."
She'll kill you.
"Don't you think I don't know that? Do you think I care?"
And she won't feel the least bit guilty about it.
Masonry jerked up his head. "What?" he whispered.
You'll be a flicker on her memory and then gone. You've made her hate you *that* much. Masonry walked, not paying attention to the direction, listening to the gentle voice in his mind. I know what you're trying to do, Nate, but not everyone handles stress the way you do. She might not be able to "vent" it. She'll let loose on you and walk away. Then we'll both be dead and for what? How can we help Frosty then? How can we help E?
"E doesn't want our help."
You said the same thing but he still helped you. You owe him that much.
"He's dying."
You know that, he knows that. He doesn't need to be reminded. Don't ignore it, but stop it. Stop goading Fyre. Like Kit said, you hurt Fyre, you hurt E.
He stopped. "I know."
Do you remember what you did to make her happy?
What do I care if she's happy or not?
There was silence in his mind for quite some time before Jack said, You are jealous. You want her to beat you not because you want her to feel better, but so you actually have the chance to kill her.
Yes. All emotion emptied from him, and even Jack couldn't find it for a moment.
If you kill her that's not going to change E's mind for you, in fact, he'll turn entirely on you.
Maybe.
Nate! Think! He's not interested!
It's not that anymore. He looked at his reflection in the window. "He refused me."
He has the r--
Masonry put his head through the window. Then he slammed his head against the wall to silence the squid and knock himself unconscious.
Masonry tore off the bucket helm and threw it, watching it slam into and through a metal box near the warehouse.
Nate -
They laughed at me!
Which was the purpose!
He looked down at his lime green pants with the blue diamonds. "I can't believe you talked me into this!"
Nate -
"Frosty was uncomfortable with it, he probably thinks I'm going to go get myself a mask next - and...they laughed at me!"
Nate.
"And things are still all fucked up, E's still dying, and you made them all laugh at me."
When we first started the night, E was discussing how he was dying. By the end of the evening, he had a smile on his face, which is better than what we began, don't you think? And Fyre probably found it amusing.
"She would." A pedestrian walking past him stopped to look at him when he spoke. He glared. The woman kept walking.
Nate, is there a difference between your being a punching bag for Fyre or E, or being the butt of a joke?
"Of course there is."
What?
"I can take being hit. I want them to hit me until all their anger and frustration is out. I want them to do everything they want to destroy me."
She'll kill you.
"Don't you think I don't know that? Do you think I care?"
And she won't feel the least bit guilty about it.
Masonry jerked up his head. "What?" he whispered.
You'll be a flicker on her memory and then gone. You've made her hate you *that* much. Masonry walked, not paying attention to the direction, listening to the gentle voice in his mind. I know what you're trying to do, Nate, but not everyone handles stress the way you do. She might not be able to "vent" it. She'll let loose on you and walk away. Then we'll both be dead and for what? How can we help Frosty then? How can we help E?
"E doesn't want our help."
You said the same thing but he still helped you. You owe him that much.
"He's dying."
You know that, he knows that. He doesn't need to be reminded. Don't ignore it, but stop it. Stop goading Fyre. Like Kit said, you hurt Fyre, you hurt E.
He stopped. "I know."
Do you remember what you did to make her happy?
What do I care if she's happy or not?
There was silence in his mind for quite some time before Jack said, You are jealous. You want her to beat you not because you want her to feel better, but so you actually have the chance to kill her.
Yes. All emotion emptied from him, and even Jack couldn't find it for a moment.
If you kill her that's not going to change E's mind for you, in fact, he'll turn entirely on you.
Maybe.
Nate! Think! He's not interested!
It's not that anymore. He looked at his reflection in the window. "He refused me."
He has the r--
Masonry put his head through the window. Then he slammed his head against the wall to silence the squid and knock himself unconscious.
He didn't know how long he stood there, watching the power prototype. Rusty had his hands behind his back, looking at the swirling lights, remembering something his first engineering "teacher" told him: "Warp engines do not hum. They do not purr. They sing."
This one hums, but is so, oh so close to singing.
He glanced around for a moment, then pulled out his pocket knife, advanced to the rear of the machine. He got to his knees, then tucked himself beneath to see a panel.
I need a fucking Allen wrench?
Growling, he got up from his position and went over to a drawer, started rummaging through it. An Allen wrench was not the most common tool, which meant he either had to go all the way back to his room or sneak into Kit's workshop.
He took the former, not trusting that when he opened the door to the workshop, some alarm would go off and he would be thrown out by something akin to a cartoon punching arm. Too much Road Runner, Rusty, he thought, shaking his head. He glanced around again when he returned, and climbed back under the machine.
It took him some time to get the panel off, and when he did, his mouth dropped open in shock. All she needs to do is add ekka, inject that into this part of the superconductor, and this magnet over here, move --
His head swam for a moment, converting what he saw before him into mathematics. He searched for pen and paper while he was on the floor, then stopped, realizing that he was fixing the problem.
Why don't you give Kit the solution and let her figure out how to get there? He'd get her to the first step, from changing the perfect energy source before him into one which could create and sustain warp bubbles, step one of the Alcubierre drive...
He hurriedly put the panel back, suddenly excited. We can go home sooner than I thought!
He suddenly hesitated as he hand-twisted the screw.
They can go home. I'm not going.
This one hums, but is so, oh so close to singing.
He glanced around for a moment, then pulled out his pocket knife, advanced to the rear of the machine. He got to his knees, then tucked himself beneath to see a panel.
I need a fucking Allen wrench?
Growling, he got up from his position and went over to a drawer, started rummaging through it. An Allen wrench was not the most common tool, which meant he either had to go all the way back to his room or sneak into Kit's workshop.
He took the former, not trusting that when he opened the door to the workshop, some alarm would go off and he would be thrown out by something akin to a cartoon punching arm. Too much Road Runner, Rusty, he thought, shaking his head. He glanced around again when he returned, and climbed back under the machine.
It took him some time to get the panel off, and when he did, his mouth dropped open in shock. All she needs to do is add ekka, inject that into this part of the superconductor, and this magnet over here, move --
His head swam for a moment, converting what he saw before him into mathematics. He searched for pen and paper while he was on the floor, then stopped, realizing that he was fixing the problem.
Why don't you give Kit the solution and let her figure out how to get there? He'd get her to the first step, from changing the perfect energy source before him into one which could create and sustain warp bubbles, step one of the Alcubierre drive...
He hurriedly put the panel back, suddenly excited. We can go home sooner than I thought!
He suddenly hesitated as he hand-twisted the screw.
They can go home. I'm not going.
Monday, June 4, 2007
Providence, dressed in a long white shirt, opened the door. She looked up to see Masonry staring down at her.
"Prov," he said, and pushed his way in. He kicked the door shut, grabbed her and kissed her. "Now."
Afterward, he lay in Providence's bed, looking up at the ceiling, while Prov traced lazy circles across his chest with her fingertip. "Whyso forceful?"
"I needed to be sure." He hugged her.
She raised her head to look at him. "Speak unto me, sure of what?"
He smiled at her. "To be sure I could still love a woman."
"Truly so," she replied, and propped her head up by her elbows, which she rested on his chest. "Thy love for E-VAC weigheth heavy upon thee?"
He gazed at her. "He's dying, Prov. The radiation, it's eating him up from the inside. Him and Frosty."
Providence's face changed from stunned to something softer, as she watched Masonry's reaction.
"Cry, Nathan."
He shook his head and suddenly grew cold. "I'm not going to cry anymore. It doesn't help. I'll ignore it."
"Nay, Nathan, I know thee well. Thou hast a good heart, and a good guide. Thou canst not ignore thy emotions forever."
He snorted. "Star wants to talk to him. Everyone seems to like him better."
"Nay, I like thee well." She smiled and kissed him. He hugged her again.
"I don't know what to do, Prov."
"Be there."
He looked at her.
"If there is nothing thou canst do, merely be there."
"E doesn't want me."
"What of Frosty?"
He suddenly hugged her fiercely. "I don't know," he said, and caressed her head, lifting her face by the chin.
She put her head on his chest and listened to his heart. "Thou hast love for many, there art all kinds of love, not only this."
"I know."
"Thou loveth Frosty well?"
He whispered, "Yes."
"As E?"
"I don't know."
She raised her head. "Honest, at least. Maybe thy relationship shalt grow and then thou shalt know." She poked at his chest as she spoke, "Thou goest too fast!"
"I have to go faster, they're going to die. E seems to have some 'kids' fresh out of school who are helping him. They're doing experiments on him to try and heal him but they're making him worse..." He took a breath and it was like a sheet of ice covered him - his eyes grew cold.
Providence leaned back. "Nathan, feel."
"No." It came out as almost a growl, so flat and determined it was. "No more. I won't ask. Let them figure it out." Then he lightened up, "I'll be there for Frosty because I know he doesn't want his brother involved - and someone should be there. E doesn't need me. He's got what I wanted him to have. She'll throw money at him and take care of him. Besides, she hates me and..."
"Thou hateth her?"
He shook his head. "No. Angry that she can do something and I can't. That she can just buy what she needs and buy whoever she wants, and I can't even get in to see my best friend. That she can do stuff without Frosty or me. That she's ... got E."
"Thou art jealous."
He didn't comment. He pulled Providence close to him, kissed her deeply, and proceeded to deflect.
"Prov," he said, and pushed his way in. He kicked the door shut, grabbed her and kissed her. "Now."
Afterward, he lay in Providence's bed, looking up at the ceiling, while Prov traced lazy circles across his chest with her fingertip. "Whyso forceful?"
"I needed to be sure." He hugged her.
She raised her head to look at him. "Speak unto me, sure of what?"
He smiled at her. "To be sure I could still love a woman."
"Truly so," she replied, and propped her head up by her elbows, which she rested on his chest. "Thy love for E-VAC weigheth heavy upon thee?"
He gazed at her. "He's dying, Prov. The radiation, it's eating him up from the inside. Him and Frosty."
Providence's face changed from stunned to something softer, as she watched Masonry's reaction.
"Cry, Nathan."
He shook his head and suddenly grew cold. "I'm not going to cry anymore. It doesn't help. I'll ignore it."
"Nay, Nathan, I know thee well. Thou hast a good heart, and a good guide. Thou canst not ignore thy emotions forever."
He snorted. "Star wants to talk to him. Everyone seems to like him better."
"Nay, I like thee well." She smiled and kissed him. He hugged her again.
"I don't know what to do, Prov."
"Be there."
He looked at her.
"If there is nothing thou canst do, merely be there."
"E doesn't want me."
"What of Frosty?"
He suddenly hugged her fiercely. "I don't know," he said, and caressed her head, lifting her face by the chin.
She put her head on his chest and listened to his heart. "Thou hast love for many, there art all kinds of love, not only this."
"I know."
"Thou loveth Frosty well?"
He whispered, "Yes."
"As E?"
"I don't know."
She raised her head. "Honest, at least. Maybe thy relationship shalt grow and then thou shalt know." She poked at his chest as she spoke, "Thou goest too fast!"
"I have to go faster, they're going to die. E seems to have some 'kids' fresh out of school who are helping him. They're doing experiments on him to try and heal him but they're making him worse..." He took a breath and it was like a sheet of ice covered him - his eyes grew cold.
Providence leaned back. "Nathan, feel."
"No." It came out as almost a growl, so flat and determined it was. "No more. I won't ask. Let them figure it out." Then he lightened up, "I'll be there for Frosty because I know he doesn't want his brother involved - and someone should be there. E doesn't need me. He's got what I wanted him to have. She'll throw money at him and take care of him. Besides, she hates me and..."
"Thou hateth her?"
He shook his head. "No. Angry that she can do something and I can't. That she can just buy what she needs and buy whoever she wants, and I can't even get in to see my best friend. That she can do stuff without Frosty or me. That she's ... got E."
"Thou art jealous."
He didn't comment. He pulled Providence close to him, kissed her deeply, and proceeded to deflect.
Friday, June 1, 2007
Kelly jumped almost ten feet in the air when she heard the buzzer. She blinked, stared at the computer screen in front of her for a moment, then up at the clock. Three a.m.? I already brought the records down to ER...
She hoisted herself up from the chair. A heavy set woman with stringy dark brown hair, she had worked at medical records for six years. Many physicians came to MR in the wee hours of the morning - some bore gifts, most ignored her. She knew the on call docs and residents weren't doing any research, which would be the other reason someone would buzz the door.
She approached the door at the end of the hallway. She saw the back of someone's white-haired head. She looked at the doorhandle and opened the door. She looked up at the doctor.
And stared into the most beautiful blue eyes she'd ever seen.
"G'mornin'!"
She found herself letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding.
"Good morning, doctor," she said, and let him in. He wore the usual white smock, but wore a t-shirt and jeans, and boots underneath. Unconventional, but maybe he was like House.
"Tough f'r us t' be up this late a'night," he said. She couldn't place his accent. She'd never heard or seen him before. Small klaxons went off in her head - "Check his ID" - as he walked in, heading right toward some research that was pulled for the University.
"Hm, 'sain' wha' I axed f'r," he turned to her. "I been lookin' f'r a sp'cific person."
"I'll need to see your ID, doctor," she said.
He patted himself down. "I done lef' it upstairs."
She folded her arms across her chest. She'd been her long enough to stop other doctors from taking the files out of the office - and she actually followed a physician to his office and watched him read whatever it was he needed.
"I'm sorry, doctor, but I don't know who you are."
"I ain' takin' it." He smiled, and the light reached his eyes. "Jus' lookin' 'sall."
"What's your name?"
"Rogers. Jim Rogers. I'm an intern."
"Your request needs to be countersigned by a physician you've worked directly under."
He put his fingertips to the bridge of his nose. "A'right. Who's th' doc on call?"
She went deeper into the record room to her desk, turning her back on the doctor. When she turned to her desk, facing the doctor, he was looking at the on-call schedule posted. He followed it with his finger, then stopped. He smiled warmly at her again.
"I'll be right back."
"Nate, it'll be my license!"
"No, it won't. I'm assessing this man for a potential Kheldian bonding. That's all you have to tell her."
Marc Young, newly a resident at Steel Canyon, stared at Nathan. He shook his head. "Breaking Federal laws suck, Nate. You go to jail, I go to jail, that poor secretary goes to jail."
"I'll take full responsibilty and say that I coerced you."
"Sure, we'll walk back in there and you're holding a gun to my head."
"Actually," he gripped the metal railing of the stair and squeezed. His fingertips popped into the hollow metal and the metal curled as he squeezed. He pulled his hand out of the hollow and brushed it off.
"Nate, you'll go back to jail."
"Not if we do this right, Marc."
Young glared at Nate. "I'm not doing this for you, you know. I'm doing this for Jack."
He nodded, "And he appreciates it."
"Whatever," he snarled, as they got back into the elevator. A female nurse came in with them. She looked at Nathan and smiled at him. "Are you new here?"
"Yes'm," he said, as Young whirled around in shock. Jack's voice! My God, that's Jack's voice!
Nathan - Jack? - turned to Marc and smiled. "Our floor," he said just moments before the door opened.
The two men walked out of the elevator, and Marc turned to him. "Jack? Is that you?"
"Hey, Mousie."
Marc threw himself at him and hugged him tightly. "Jack! You didn't even say good bye!"
"No time, Mousie. I hadda help 'im immediately." He raised Marc's head. "Y're helpin' a good man, both this'un an' th' man whose records we need."
"Stay here, Jack, please. For a little while."
"After this."
Marc wiped his face and took a deep breath. "Okay." They approached the MR office again.
Kelly opened the door to see the white-haired doctor and Dr. Young, who looked like he'd been crying. She looked from one to the other, wondering if the white-haired doctor had beaten up Dr. Young somehow.
"Hello, Dr. Young. Dr. Rogers."
Marc spoke, "Hi, Kelly. Listen, get whatever chart he wants."
"Will you be taking it anywhere," she asked as she headed toward her desk.
"No ma'am," Jack said, "Jus' lookin'."
"Then you don't have to sign it out. What's the name?" She poised her hands over the keys.
"Pace. Jason Pace."
"Oh, Doctor Pace? I know him," she said, typing his name in. "What do you need it for?"
When the white-haired doctor widened his eyes, Young said, "She has the right to ask the question, N--Roger."
She glanced at him, noticing the wrong name. Young flushed under her gaze.
"It's for a bonding. A Kheldian bonding."
Kelly knew from experience that when super heroes were involved, it was entirely different level. Most other clerks would have been impressed and given in. Kelly had never been one of them.
Until now.
When she looked up into the pure blue eyes of the white-haired doctor, almost with a twinkle in them, she could almost read his pleading, his sorrow. Pace meant something to him.
She nodded, wrote his number down and went to fetch it. As they stood near her desk - the computer was locked so he couldn't look any further - they heard her call from the file room.
She thrust a thick file at them. "You can sit right there."
Young took the folder from Rogers's hands and went to the table. He opened it and glanced up at Kelly. "Got anything recent? This is last year's."
"Not unless he's admitted."
Young handed the folder to Rogers. "Can we check and see?"
Rogers skimmed it and didn't know where to put it. "Just leave it there," Kelly said, "I'll put it away."
The two of them followed her again to her desk. She called up on her computer who was admitted. "Nope, he's not admitted."
"Of course," Rogers said. "'Course he ain't."
"Do we have any John Does?"
She punched that in. "A couple. One's in ICU. The other one's in the Garrahy Wing."
Rogers looked expectantly at Young. "I can get you to ICU. That one's in his 80's." Young said. "But I can't get you into Garrahy."
"Why not?"
"It's a locked unit, government subsidized. Need all kinds of security to even get in the foyer."
"He's there," he said. "They've got him there." When he looked up, his eyes were blazing white.
She jerked back from him. He turned to her, closed his eyes, snuffing the white fire, then opened his eyes to show that pure blue.
"Jack, c'mon," Young was saying. "You can't go barging in there like gangbusters. They have Q guns there."
Jack, she thought, with a raised eyebrow. He introduced himself as Jim.
"I've survived Q guns before," he said, and smiled. "But you're right - no, you are right. They wouldn't let him out for heroing if he was held against his will - possible that he doesn't realize it - "
She listened as the voice had changed from the heavily accented one to something approaching clinical. His whole carriage changed, too, from being slightly bent to standing straight, almost in a military position.
He nodded his head in finality. "We know where he is. Patience, Nate." He turned to Young. "So, Marc, take ya downstairs f'r a grilled chicken?"
Young's voice was cold. "The kitchen's not open, Jack."
"We'll sneak in."
"I'm not hungry," Young said suddenly. "Thanks for your help, Kelly."
"Marc." Rogers put a hand on Young's shoulder.
He shrugged it off and started toward the door. Rogers followed. "Mousie."
He whirled around and yelled, "Don't you call me that!" Then he threw open the door and stormed out.
She hoisted herself up from the chair. A heavy set woman with stringy dark brown hair, she had worked at medical records for six years. Many physicians came to MR in the wee hours of the morning - some bore gifts, most ignored her. She knew the on call docs and residents weren't doing any research, which would be the other reason someone would buzz the door.
She approached the door at the end of the hallway. She saw the back of someone's white-haired head. She looked at the doorhandle and opened the door. She looked up at the doctor.
And stared into the most beautiful blue eyes she'd ever seen.
"G'mornin'!"
She found herself letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding.
"Good morning, doctor," she said, and let him in. He wore the usual white smock, but wore a t-shirt and jeans, and boots underneath. Unconventional, but maybe he was like House.
"Tough f'r us t' be up this late a'night," he said. She couldn't place his accent. She'd never heard or seen him before. Small klaxons went off in her head - "Check his ID" - as he walked in, heading right toward some research that was pulled for the University.
"Hm, 'sain' wha' I axed f'r," he turned to her. "I been lookin' f'r a sp'cific person."
"I'll need to see your ID, doctor," she said.
He patted himself down. "I done lef' it upstairs."
She folded her arms across her chest. She'd been her long enough to stop other doctors from taking the files out of the office - and she actually followed a physician to his office and watched him read whatever it was he needed.
"I'm sorry, doctor, but I don't know who you are."
"I ain' takin' it." He smiled, and the light reached his eyes. "Jus' lookin' 'sall."
"What's your name?"
"Rogers. Jim Rogers. I'm an intern."
"Your request needs to be countersigned by a physician you've worked directly under."
He put his fingertips to the bridge of his nose. "A'right. Who's th' doc on call?"
She went deeper into the record room to her desk, turning her back on the doctor. When she turned to her desk, facing the doctor, he was looking at the on-call schedule posted. He followed it with his finger, then stopped. He smiled warmly at her again.
"I'll be right back."
"Nate, it'll be my license!"
"No, it won't. I'm assessing this man for a potential Kheldian bonding. That's all you have to tell her."
Marc Young, newly a resident at Steel Canyon, stared at Nathan. He shook his head. "Breaking Federal laws suck, Nate. You go to jail, I go to jail, that poor secretary goes to jail."
"I'll take full responsibilty and say that I coerced you."
"Sure, we'll walk back in there and you're holding a gun to my head."
"Actually," he gripped the metal railing of the stair and squeezed. His fingertips popped into the hollow metal and the metal curled as he squeezed. He pulled his hand out of the hollow and brushed it off.
"Nate, you'll go back to jail."
"Not if we do this right, Marc."
Young glared at Nate. "I'm not doing this for you, you know. I'm doing this for Jack."
He nodded, "And he appreciates it."
"Whatever," he snarled, as they got back into the elevator. A female nurse came in with them. She looked at Nathan and smiled at him. "Are you new here?"
"Yes'm," he said, as Young whirled around in shock. Jack's voice! My God, that's Jack's voice!
Nathan - Jack? - turned to Marc and smiled. "Our floor," he said just moments before the door opened.
The two men walked out of the elevator, and Marc turned to him. "Jack? Is that you?"
"Hey, Mousie."
Marc threw himself at him and hugged him tightly. "Jack! You didn't even say good bye!"
"No time, Mousie. I hadda help 'im immediately." He raised Marc's head. "Y're helpin' a good man, both this'un an' th' man whose records we need."
"Stay here, Jack, please. For a little while."
"After this."
Marc wiped his face and took a deep breath. "Okay." They approached the MR office again.
Kelly opened the door to see the white-haired doctor and Dr. Young, who looked like he'd been crying. She looked from one to the other, wondering if the white-haired doctor had beaten up Dr. Young somehow.
"Hello, Dr. Young. Dr. Rogers."
Marc spoke, "Hi, Kelly. Listen, get whatever chart he wants."
"Will you be taking it anywhere," she asked as she headed toward her desk.
"No ma'am," Jack said, "Jus' lookin'."
"Then you don't have to sign it out. What's the name?" She poised her hands over the keys.
"Pace. Jason Pace."
"Oh, Doctor Pace? I know him," she said, typing his name in. "What do you need it for?"
When the white-haired doctor widened his eyes, Young said, "She has the right to ask the question, N--Roger."
She glanced at him, noticing the wrong name. Young flushed under her gaze.
"It's for a bonding. A Kheldian bonding."
Kelly knew from experience that when super heroes were involved, it was entirely different level. Most other clerks would have been impressed and given in. Kelly had never been one of them.
Until now.
When she looked up into the pure blue eyes of the white-haired doctor, almost with a twinkle in them, she could almost read his pleading, his sorrow. Pace meant something to him.
She nodded, wrote his number down and went to fetch it. As they stood near her desk - the computer was locked so he couldn't look any further - they heard her call from the file room.
She thrust a thick file at them. "You can sit right there."
Young took the folder from Rogers's hands and went to the table. He opened it and glanced up at Kelly. "Got anything recent? This is last year's."
"Not unless he's admitted."
Young handed the folder to Rogers. "Can we check and see?"
Rogers skimmed it and didn't know where to put it. "Just leave it there," Kelly said, "I'll put it away."
The two of them followed her again to her desk. She called up on her computer who was admitted. "Nope, he's not admitted."
"Of course," Rogers said. "'Course he ain't."
"Do we have any John Does?"
She punched that in. "A couple. One's in ICU. The other one's in the Garrahy Wing."
Rogers looked expectantly at Young. "I can get you to ICU. That one's in his 80's." Young said. "But I can't get you into Garrahy."
"Why not?"
"It's a locked unit, government subsidized. Need all kinds of security to even get in the foyer."
"He's there," he said. "They've got him there." When he looked up, his eyes were blazing white.
She jerked back from him. He turned to her, closed his eyes, snuffing the white fire, then opened his eyes to show that pure blue.
"Jack, c'mon," Young was saying. "You can't go barging in there like gangbusters. They have Q guns there."
Jack, she thought, with a raised eyebrow. He introduced himself as Jim.
"I've survived Q guns before," he said, and smiled. "But you're right - no, you are right. They wouldn't let him out for heroing if he was held against his will - possible that he doesn't realize it - "
She listened as the voice had changed from the heavily accented one to something approaching clinical. His whole carriage changed, too, from being slightly bent to standing straight, almost in a military position.
He nodded his head in finality. "We know where he is. Patience, Nate." He turned to Young. "So, Marc, take ya downstairs f'r a grilled chicken?"
Young's voice was cold. "The kitchen's not open, Jack."
"We'll sneak in."
"I'm not hungry," Young said suddenly. "Thanks for your help, Kelly."
"Marc." Rogers put a hand on Young's shoulder.
He shrugged it off and started toward the door. Rogers followed. "Mousie."
He whirled around and yelled, "Don't you call me that!" Then he threw open the door and stormed out.