(Twi) Twilight XI: School Days

[darkblade]

Sam Axe

Sam went over the files of the students under his command and care one more time. Souske is far too loyal to his country and narrow minded, Gary means well but his disability means subtly is not his strong suit, The Cullens are all far to involved with this project to be trusted. He pulls out his cellphone and pushes a single button. "Send Katniss to my office please. We got a lot to discuss."

***

Alex Russo

Now clothed and away from the threat of savage beatings from insane British chosen ones and his Witch hating servant Alex begins her plot.

Four runned circles formed from salt sit on the rooftop of the school. Next to roughly three thousand empty cafeteria salt packets. Within those circles she places a sheet of note paper which reads in order.

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THE TOWN OF SALEM, PROVINCE OF MASSACHUSETTS BAY OF THE PRE-SPLIT BRITANNIAN EMPIRE 1692
The most well known case of mass hysteria in the New World.
At least three hundred and fifty-five dead as a result. Less than three of which possessed magic.
None had done anything wrong.

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HERAKLES - HERCULES Unknown year Ancient Greece
Greek Demigod
Son of Zeus King of Mount Olympus and the mortal woman Alcmene
Slayer of monsters
Completer of twelve labours cast down from Hera.
Or not as Kratos is recorded as killing many of the same monsters before moving onto the Gods themselves

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ZHUGE LIANG Yangdu, Langya Commandery 207
Great Tactician of the Three Kingdoms Era
Caster to no magic
Inventor of the Landmine
Thief of a thousand pointless arrows
Master of the East Wind
Devised the Empty Fort Strategy or the Reverse Trojan Horse
No real hidden details

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ARCHER
Cheating Bastard from the future

She pulls out a pocket book of matches and lights four. Each match igniting a piece of paper. As the papers containing the true names of the Servants burn focuses her power into the circles to call them and bind them to the circles.

She has no faith in Archer, since so little is known about him and nothing is to be known since he doesn't seem to exist yet but she tries none the less.

[Cracklord]

Nico Minoru
In the school corridors, an eldritch wind blows. It passes unnoticed through the passages, most students not even noticing it despite their own sensitivities and bizarre origins. Hercules lifts up his head, sniffing the air as he sense something wrong, but before he can act on this premonition, it wraps around him like invisible bonds, and tries to find purchase on his essence.
The cords in his neck tighten, his muscles clench, and his teeth grind as he digs his feet into the ground and strains to resist, but his legendary strength is of no use here. With a growl of frustration, he vanished from his master's side, to appear in the circle, a towering block of physical power. He stares at you a moment, then flexes his hands meaningfully.
"These shackles will not hold me long, enchantress." He warns.

Harry Potter
His servant vanishes. The witch-killer girl strains against her bonds, baring her teeth, far too angry at your unclean presence to articulate so much as threats. She may not seem physically dangerous, particularly when standing next to Herakles, but the sheer naked hate in her eyes more then makes up for it.

Kongming
You are called to the circle, materializing, without any ceremony, before Alex Russo.

Sam Axe
Katniss has lost a fight, but Cass knew what she was doing. She's a little unsteady, and particularly drained, but she is standing unaided. Her eyes are cold but submissive, she looks to be one who has lived in fear for so long she wouldn't know how to stop running even if she could.
"Yes, sir?" She says, and her voice sounds a little meek, as though defiance is too much effort to sustain.

[darkblade]

Alex

"Oh don't worry I know that. I'm not nearly good enough to hold three Servants hostage at the same time." She says frowning at the empty fourth circle. She was hoping to use this gambit to end the Grail War quickly. She will still have to fight Archer and Shirou again later.

"That is why the circles have two layers. Break the seal on the inner circle without breaking the outer one first and it becomes a one way portal to Hell. While I am sure you can punch or outsmart your way back to Earth it will take days away from your masters and their mana." She points to the salt runes.

***

Sam

"I heard you got beat up. How are you feeling?" Sam asks trying to warm up to her. He has seen her type before, get treated as a toy and/or a weapon too long and everything just seem to break down. That was one of the Empire's biggest problems it often broke it's own toys before they enemy even got a chance. No he's not like that to him those under him are people first and soldiers second.

"You want a beer? You're underage but I won't tell if you won't."

[Cracklord]

Sam Axe
"I figure if I'm old enough to kill people, I'm old enough to drink. Two beers, even." She replied, some of the caution leaving her. She's on edge, but not broken. Not quite yet. But not from lack of trying.
"But tell me what you want as well. All you people with your plots and schemes. I'm starting to lose track of you all."

Alex
"So we must rely on our masters overcoming your trickery." Hercules says slowly. Apparently, he's not just a lot of muscles. "And I expect you have spells of concealment woven in as well, to prevent them from locating us."
Salem's eyes widen, and she bares her teeth. And you thought she couldn't hate you any more. She looks like she's about to start snarling.

[darkblade]

Alex

Alex's sense of superiority deflates instantly. "No...no I didn't."

"Saber! Keep an eye on the masters stop them from using any tracking spells or climbing on this roof." Alex orders her servant. Mickey just nods towards her, his sad gaze briefly falling on the captive servants before he leaps off the roof to follow his orders.

"Now those circles will slowly drain your mana over the next twelve hours. Barring Saber failing to keep your masters away there is nothing you can do to stop me from taking the Grail."

***

Sam

Sam sighs. "That's an attitude that is going to get you killed one day. It's best just to play the game sometimes."

None the less he reaches under his desk and pulls out a pair of beers for Katniss. "Eight years ago I ran an op in Area 14. It was still Colombia back then. I was supposed to protect a small but critical medical outpost from some terrorists. It turns out my own CO was the one targeting the outpost and those so called terrorists were some farmers who posted mean things about the Britannian military online. Some Prince took their insults personally and wanted an excuse to wipe their village off the map. I saved the outpost and got the CO court martialed, the Prince got away clean and is now viceroy of 14. I got demoted and stuck on the worst missions they could find for me. Until this one, protecting a high profile asset from several terrorist groups many of which seem to be employing Metahumans."

He takes a sip from his own beer. "I think this whole thing stinks of a set up. What do you think?"

[Colesign]

Leavenworth Smedry

Leavenworth's smile fades to a thoughtful expression at Zauriel's words.

"Zauriel...I swear, all the angels and divine beings I've met cannot stop fretting about freedom and 'free will' and 'choice' and 'Innate Nature' and other such notions and sundries (well, except for the one obsessed with sexual relations). Freedom isn't quite so difficult as that, don't you worry."

He stares into a pair of Zauriel's eyes.

"But you are worried. You're worried about your identity. And I'll assume that you are right to worry, and have good reasons for doing so, given that you are far older and wiser, than us mortals can ever be."

He holds out a hand.

"So listen a bit to the wisdom of this young child when I say this: The time we spend, the choices we make will never happen again. Each tick of the cosmic clock is a unique occurrence, a slice of a miracle that will then be gone. Forever. I've gathered your creator had something to do with that.

You are an immortal creature: you could potentially wait in this prison until it decays and crumbles around you, and be released that way. But looking back upon all those moments, you'd wish you had done something else. Something grand: something daring that would spice up those slivers of miracles..."

The howls grow closer: Smedry looks behind him for a moment, then turns back.

"Pardon, pardon, out of time! Well, I had a whole speech that featured some lovely metaphysics, but–let's see, a cliffnotes version:

Ifyoucanworryaboutfreedomyoucanstillembodyitandcho osetoescapeandifyoudontyou'llremainextremelyboredi nthispitandifyoudoyou'llbereallypumpedandyourexplo itswillbeturnedintoabestsellingnovelseries!"

Leavenworth gasps for breath.

"Ah huh...so, are you coming, Zauriel? I guarantee this is the hardest part."

[Cracklord]

SMEDRY
"I'm only half an angel, remember. And that half fell a long time ago. Perhaps some day I shall be free. However, that shall not be for long yet, for though Hate cannot endure forever, it remains long." He replied, sadly, but with dignity, shaking the chains again. "Fret not for me, but instead -"
"Very inspiring and all, but if I were you, I'd get busy running or get busy dying." John interjects, backing slowly away from the open doorway. At the end of a corridor slowly padded a gigantic, half-starved werewolf, and your heart falls a bit. Werewolves had no world of their own, not in the Free Kingdoms, the Disputed Lands or the Territories, and certainly not the Hushlands, but could freely cross over, jumping between them at will, and taking on a form appropriate to wherever they went. Here, it became something like a wolf so large it could barely squeeze through the corridors, it's massive shoulders scraping walls where four could walk abreast. Of course, it wasn't really a wolf. It was only more like a wolf then a butterfly, a hawk or a dragon.
Each rib stood out separately under it's dark, shaggy fur, the vertebrae pressed against the skin and looked like the teeth of a saw, and its tongue dangled from its half-open mouth, that bristled with more fangs then any shark could boast, and it's eyes gleamed with a savage and brutal intelligence. It didn't take a genius to know what would be the result of any attempt to make any sort of stand against it.
"OK." John says, with a sort of forced calmness. He was tossing his lot in with you, even if he believed that any attempt could only fail. "We're splitting up. Now. Smedry, you're with me. Beast, you're with Wilson. He can't follow us both, so perhaps one of us will make it to the end alive."

Alex
Salem snarls, and begins a string of profanities that begin with your parentage, continue to speculation on the demons and malign spirits you've allowed to bed you, make their way to an imagined case of you selling your soul at the crossroads, and continue along those lines. It's quite clear that, despite being a glorified familiar, she has no real conception how magic works beyond a highly specialized aspect.
Hercules simply sits down and begins going over the runes, looking for a loophole or misspelling that he can use as a chink to break the prison. It's a little intimidating, he's the only servant captured here that could take on Mickey, and you preferred matters when he was just a brute. At last he looks up.
"Well, your expertise may have neglected a few details, but your craftsmanship is nonetheless without fault. There is no chink in this prison. No gap I can use to tear it asunder." He stroked his chin with a faintly audible scrape. His beard was barely that, more of a movie-star designer stubble, but it worked for his strong, rugged features very nicely. "But you have not bested me. And you are a fool to believe your trap shall."
His eyes narrowed. "Do not confuse me with some little village spirit of malice bought with promises of renewed hatred for hatreds sake. I am Herakles, son of Zeus and I have bested any challenge I have been faced with, in this life and the next. Your little prison cannot hold me long, and even if it could, it would do you no good. For I serve a master who I believe my equal, and against her you have no defense." Much of magic depends on self-confidence. And Hercules is doing his very best to shake yours.

Sam Axe
"No, the men with guns you send children to fight will kill me. My attitude will just help me cope." She says, retreating back into bitterness. But she listens to you, and a little warmth returns to her. She's had all sorts of commands from all sorts of people. They might all be representatives of the same institution that has ruined her life, but some were quite a bit more decent then others.
So she listens to you, nodding at all the correct points, and wishes Peeta were still alive for the third time this day, to help her make sense of all this and feel her way through it all. He'd saved her life, back in the Hunger Games and then, at last, he'd died for her so her sister could live. So why does she look on that as a cruel act, for leaving her alone in this life where all that was good and precious was stripped from her for the amusement of those who ruled?
"I'd say, judging by your own experiences, we're all expendable, and likely to be sacrificed so someone can prove a point." She sounds resigned. She's been waiting for half a year for the aristocracy to find a new toy to play with and discard her. It's just the way it works.

[darkblade]

Sam

"Most of those men are just rival pawns. They would much rather be at home with their families living quite lives than fighting child soldiers." Sam says darkly.

"There are some sick bastards out there but usually, the enemy isn't any more responsible for killing you than the gun they used to do it."

"Despite my issues with the Empire I've kept my job and life by playing their game and being a heck of a lot better at it than a kid from a Area 2 slum should be. Since you work for me now you are going to play too." He pulls out a stack of dossiers, one for every operative or commander involved openly in operation Ugly Duckling. "Go through these, look for holes in their stories."

***

Alex

"Except you aren't." Alex said defiantly tapping her wand on the edge of Hercules's circle. A brief surge of electrical energy roughly on par with a taser should flow through the demi-god. Not enough to do any serious harm but enough to remind him who is calling the shots.

"You are nothing but a concentrated mass of mana with the memories of Hercules. You are nothing Berserker." She says growing a little hysterical. She is beginning to lose focus.

[Cracklord]

Alex
"Perhaps. But that's more then you'll ever be, because you're nothing but an inexperienced witch well out of her league." He replies simply, meeting your eyes with a sort of dignity. The shocks he doesn't even seem to notice. You want to give him a shock, try a bolt of lightning. "And now you've made the biggest mistake of all. Now my master, and those who these other servants serve as well, will target you exclusively. You had best hope your servant can protect you."
Then he looked at the circle again. "I have escaped hell before. And if that's what it takes, then the poets of this age shall have a new chapter to add to my epic." He adds, keeping up his stare.

Sam
Katniss only learned to read as part of her military acclimatization course, and at first it's a struggle for her to get through the papers. But she is nothing if not adaptable, and is soon managing to scan them pretty quickly.
You watch her for a while, then you get a phone call. Your private line. Barry Burkowski, money launderer, industrialist, investor, and useful contact of Sam Axe from his espionage days.

[darkblade]

Sam

"Barry, nice to hear from my favourite low life. Please tell me you are not asking for a favour because I am in no position to fly back to Miami right now." Sam says warmly. It's clear that he's joking. For the most part he likes Barry and while what he does is illegal most of Barry's clients are more tax evaders than gangsters so he is pretty harmless.

***

Alex

He'd like that, a lightning bolt would break the outer layer of the circle, allowing him to shatter the inner one harmlessly. It might not even hurt him all that much being the son of a thunder god. "What will they do hm? Raven is too distracted by her other costumed friends. Potter is too egotistical to even bother looking for his Beserker. Minoru has no training at all, she just waves her family staff around and hopes for the best. And Shirou, he'd never hit a a girl."

"For the record you escaped Hades not Hell. Some old timey poets got it in their heads that it was the same place but no, not even close. I've fought Lucifer for my brother's soul and Hades guest lectures on Necromancy at WizTech."

[Colesign]

[I'm going to hold off on posting with Gary for a time: partly in the hopes that the related players will post, and partly because I'm not sure where to take him plot-wise]

Leavenworth Smedry

Smedry opens his mouth to object to Zauriel's pessimism.

Then the Warden shows up. And upon reflection, Smedry decides it is indeed big and bad.

"Zauriel..."

He winks at him.

"We're coming back for you."

He throws his arms around McCoy, Wilson, and John.

"Now, then, Wicked John: you know how to pull off escape attempts, but I'm an expert on splitting up. Everyone follow my lead...first–"

He tugs them down a pathway.

"Run!"

As they break into motion, he extends his Talent around them all, making them all arrive 'Late'...to their personal scents.

If they can throw off the Warden for a moment...

[Cracklord]

Alex Russo
Hercules did not reply to that. He just stands, a knowing expression on his face, and leaves you to fill in the silence. You certainly don't sound confident. Indeed, your very conscience of the fact that you sound like a little girl over-compensating.
When he does speak, after the silence has stretched on almost unbearably, his words are soft and infuriatingly calm, projecting unshakable confidence. "Untrained? Perhaps. What could the old, arrogant men have hoped to teach her? She is not like one of you, mere conjurers who repeat what they have been taught. But do not mistake that for untested, little girl."
Mickey clears his throat behind you, then calls his keyblade. "You're giving too much away, master." He warns, glancing at the servants. "We should leave them, and go find Potter. He's mad, and needs to be put down before he hurts someone else."

Leavenworth Smedry
There's twenty meters before the tunnel branches, and the warden is three times that distant, but despite being so hampered by it's elephantine bulk, and despite the tight press of the walls it must worm it's way through, your jailer is mercury swift, and long experienced with this environment. It would seem the librarians have not picked a jailer they couldn't rely on.
So you use your talent creatively. And for a moment it is disoriented, snapping at your after-image and attacking your trail, stone crumbling as it slams against the walls, and almost letting you slip away. Then it shakes it's head clear and charges after you, batting you against a wall with one paw the size of a king-sized bed. It wasn't that big a moment ago. It needed room to grow.But out of the narrow tunnels and in what seems to be an antechamber it does swell up to fill the size.
This is an ancient Child of the Moon, the oldest you've ever seen or even heard about, except in hearsay, nearly grown so large that the land will not hold it and it is left to the sea, before it grows too large even for that, and is finally forced to swim between the stars as the most ancient of it's kind.
John, you noted, has followed his own advice and taken another way away. Bastard.
"I am Gmork...and you, whoever you are, can perhaps have the honor of being my next victim." It growled, in a voice so low the stones vibrated with it's speech. The words are guttural and almost incomprehensible, it's lips and jaws were not designed for human speech. It's breath washes over you, hot as a furnace and smelling of meat and blood. As though an entire army had died in it's stomach that morning alone. "But why did you leave your cage, little morsel? Where would you go? What would hide you from me?"
It licked it's jaws. "Though I hunger, perhaps I would be better to toss you back where you were left, and watch you turn to Nothing, and become of some use to me. You tried to escape, but when that fool Revise is done with you, you won’t be yourself anymore. You’ll be unrecognizable." A short, barking laugh. This is one of those conversations you're not expected to contribute to. It seems to be par the course in this dungeon. You have little choice but to get as comfortable as you can get, pinned as you are, and hope he says something you can use.
"Do you know what becomes of those who get edited away to nothing? All the millions beyond count who met their end down here, whose names are now long lost? They are reborn in the Hushlands, where they remain today. And when your time comes, you will dwell in the Hushlands as well, a nameless servant of power, with no will of your own and a new form to go with it. That's the great secret. Those who vanish here become lies!"
"This is nothing but a world of human fantasy. Every part, every creature of it, is a piece of the dreams and hopes of mankind. All you are is dreams, poetic inventions, characters, nothing else. Do you think you’re real? Perhaps you are, here in this world. But now, thanks to Revise, people have begun to lose their hopes and forget their dreams, and are left with only what he deems acceptable. So the Nothing grows stronger. Soon, he'll lose control of it, and it'll eat him too the way it ate his brother and father. But unless you beg me to kill you, morsel, it'll eat you first."
"Who knows what use they will make of you? Maybe you’ll help them persuade people to buy things they don’t need, or hate things they know nothing about, or hold beliefs that make them easy to handle, or doubt the truths that might save them. Yes, big things will be done in the humanworld with your help, wars started, empires founded…." As terrible as these revelations are, it would seem that at least Gmork has forgotten about eating you. He wants to talk, if only to gloat. He has nothing of his own kind to keep him company, the solitude is driving him as mad as his inmates, and you can use that. Perhaps you can outsmart him…

Beast
Smedry's mad dash hadn't ended well, but those behind him are largely ignored, thanks to Gmork targeting him particularly.
"I could cut it's head off." Deadpool says. "If I had swords."
"Our prayers go with him." John says, pulling the map out of his back pocket. "Here. That's the location of my treasure. Pay for a lovely funeral."
Zauriel, still in chains, groans, then looks at his chains. "Alright. You win. Let me go, I'll go out there and do something stupid, I'll die, and you can finally be happy." The chains don't stir, or move. Or, in fact, make any sign that they heard him, or are even capable of hearing him.

Sam
Barry chuckles. "I just wanted to be the first to congratulate you." He says. When you don't speak, he elaborates, radiating jovial good humor, that of a friend who wants to share in another friends good fortune. "Your accounts in the South African Colonies, specifically Nessus, have just gained about four zeroes on the end. You're a billionaire. And here you always say patriotism doesn't pay. You've been holding out on me, Sam."
That sets off warning bells. So you do have a nest-egg tucked away, for emergencies. In case you ever find yourself cut out of the game. It's been known to happen. But you certainly haven't been pumping anything like that amount of cash into it. Something doesn't seem right here.
So should you take the money?
Katniss looks up, and points to one of the early ones. "This Charlie Swann. He's got no real history. He hasn't got any immigration papers, citizenship papers, or passport, he has no license or other , and it shouldn't be possible for him to be sheriff. And he is also known to go missing for long periods of time. So why is he the man they put in charge of an important strategic resource?"
She's right. It's almost like someone made him unpersoned.

[darkblade]

Alex

"Find him then. Return here when you know where he is." Alex orders her Servant. She then turns her attention back towards her circles. It's too late to weave a veil or glamour into them directly but she can weave one over the whole roof top.

It'll take most of her mana stores but she will forces out a badly managed rhyme to focus the energy into a mental block around the rooftop. Anyone who tries to come across it should find themselves instantly forgetting about it.

***

Sam

"If you're sure it's legit help yourself to two grand. I got someone I want you to look into." Sam tells Barry.

"I want the last few years worth of tax reports from Charlie Swann and the Forks, Washington Sheriff's Department."

[Cracklord]

Sam Axe
Barry went silent for a moment, typing, then let out a noise that sounded a little odd. "Huh. He hasn't got any. He's got no income at all, and doesn't manage any estate, so he doesn't pay tax." That didn't seem right. But it was probably accurate, the Brittanian nobles were famous for their ability to keep the poor that way. The ridiculous fashion, physical restructurment and treatment, and the lifestyle to go with it required rather massive inequalities in it's distribution of wealth, so that all of it saturated one tiny percentage of the population, leaving the rest with almost nothing. There was a popular (possibly apropycal) story about a (not so) lucky laborer who won the lottery, only before he could move into his new house or drive his new car found that, after tax, he was even poorer then he was when he started out. The tax department was more efficient then the rest of the government's departments combined.
Which is why Barry's services were so vital to moderately succesful entrepeneurs who wanted to have a little more then the government saw to be their right. "Did he give you the money, Sam? Because if he did, it's definitely dirty, and might take a while to get untraceable, let alone clean. Hey, how about South American guilds and trade unions? Take's them a while to turn back into liquid wealth, but anything you pump in there probably won't be found." You doubt Charlie did put the money there.
Katniss, having no real idea what you're talking about, turns a few more pages and gives up. "I don't think there's much of anyone to trust."

Alex Russo
Mickey nods and vanishes, searching for Harry, leaving you alone with the servents. You begin to concentrate, only for one of them to stir. Hercules unfolds his great arms, then drives his fist against the circle, so hard the entire building shakes, as though a minor earthquake upset the foundations. "If you are bluffing, then you had best make peace with whichever gods you pay service to." He says, drawing back his great fist again. "If not, then I shall give the poets of this day another chapter to add to my saga! I shall cross over to the other side, though the armies of the pit stand in my way. And we shall meet again, little sorceress. You have used my name. You have not the power to bind me a second time!"

[Draxx]

Beast
"No wonder you're both still prisoners." He growls, increasingly frustrated by the fact that everyone here is completely delusional. He isn't so afraid of retroactive reality erasing him, but he is afraid that, if he doesn't get out of here soon, he'll go as mad as them.

First, Gmork. He couldn't fight it. Gmork was a better beast, too big, too strong. But he doesn't have to. He just has to get away from it, and make sure Levenworth does too. What he needs is a plan…

Hansel
Willie begins to sing, as he watches his victims through the flames.
"I fell into a burning ring of fire
I went down, down, down
and the flames went higher

And it burns, burns, burns,
The ring of fire
The ring of fire"

Johnny Cash

[Colesign]

Leavenworth Smedry

Leavenworth narrows his eyes.

So that's what Mr. Revise is up to...the implications of this...first things first: let's try not to get eaten.

He listens to the rant, and when the well of vital information begins to run dry, he coughs, and raises a hand. "A question: what will Mr. Revise do to you? When he's wrung every morsel of utility out of you, I mean to say."

The only questions people like this will respond to are questions about themselves, after all.

[Draxx]

Beast
Hank McCoy thinks quickly. First thing is first, get him away from Leavenworth. That should be easy enough, he just has to bait it with something more tempting, like, perhaps, himself. It wants something to kill, afterall. The next bit should be a little harder. Draw it somewhere where it's monolithic size isn't advantageous, then, if trapping or beating it prove impossible, give it the slip and link back up to the two seemingly useless people he's freed, who should hopefully be able to lead him out of this place, assuming they're not all talk (and he knows Deadpool is).

Easier said then done perhaps, indeed as a plan it sounds hopelessly optimistic, but then he's always been fairly positive at the core. It's gotten him into trouble a time or two, but given his resources and position there's not a lot more to improvise. Give him a laboratory and he could cure cancer, but give him a dark, wet corridor with a wolf at the end, and don't be surprised if he's somewhat less then perfect.

"He's no good to you. An inhabitant of the Territories, like you." He's grasped the gist of Gmork's rant, if not the substance due to a lifetimes ignorance of the Librarian conspiracy. "But I'm a Hushlander. This place can't do anything to me. So if you want some prey, well…"

He shrugs. Prefight banter was more his comrades 'le style est l'homme meme', and he finds himself uncharacteristically at loss for words. So he trails off, then looks at what he's whipped up. It's a rude, improvised microscope, really not good for much of anything, made from some of the junk in the cell. It's not threatening, or in any way offensive, but it's certainly important to what he is and what he does.

Archer
"Seems to me, all you did was make yourself public enemy number one. Everyone's going to target you now." The Heroic Servent drawls, leaning against a wall behind you, a sword in each hand. "Surprised to see me? Elementary really. You know, I can follow a botched summons without letting it bind me. Fancy finding you here, all alone, and vulnerable, and with nowhere to run."

He's not making any threatening movements. He's giving you the benefit of the next move. That, and if you try anything he'll have a sword in your heart before you even know it. "When I was your age, my master told me something I've held close to heart. Son, he said, don't call up what you can't put down."

[darkblade]

Alex

The circle works as Alex said it would. Underneath the Prince of Power's feet a portal to the fifth circle of Hell. The circle of violence being the most fitting place for such a man. His force though has a possibly unintended side effect.

The tremors shift the rest of the salt piles freeing the other Servants. Alex's eyes grow wide with terror as she starts to run hoping to at the very least escape Salem turning her into a bloody pulp.

***

Sam

Sam holds his hand over the receiver of the phone and tells Katniss. "There is very rarely anyone to trust. It's just a matter of figuring out who is actively out to get you. You've done good. Go back to your dorm and get some rest I'll let you know how things pan out with Charlie."

He then returns his attention back to Barrie. "To tell you the truth Barrie I have no idea where any of that money came from. I shouldn't have more than two Gs down there. You know that, you put them there."

[Cracklord]

Sam
She doesn't salute, but she stands up straight, nods, then leaves the room. Heading back to her dorm, no doubt.
Across the phone, Barry pauses a moment, wondering if this is the sort of thing that crops up occasionally that he'd be far better off not knowing anything about. "So are you going to take the money?" He says at last, sticking to what he knows. "Whoever found that account knows his stuff, and knows you pretty well. If it's not a bribe, it's probably a frame."

Smedry, Beast
"Whoah! Harsh, guy! Completely uncalled for!" Deadpool says, pouting again. There'll be no living with him after this. John merely shrugs, completely uncaring.
For a time Gmork peers at the old patriarch of the Smedry clan out of half-closed eyes, as though reconsidering his decision to spare his life. In a way, death would be a kinder fate. Then he added: “Revise doesn't realize what he's wrought. He has no conception of the concequences of his actions, the emptiness that's left behind in the absence of those who fill it. It's like a despair, destroying this world, a dark void representing human apathy, cynicism, and the denial of childish dreams. If he came down here, he would see it, and he would try to stop it, and more the fool him. No, I have another master. A greater one. One whose great designs you cannot even comprehend, morsel."
He chuckled. "What could you do? The human world is full of weak-minded people, who think they’re as clever as can be and are convinced that it’s terribly important to persuade even the children that the Free Kingdoms doesn’t exist. Maybe they will be able to make good use of you. When it comes to controlling human beings there is no better instrument than lies. Because, you see, humans live by beliefs. And beliefs can be manipulated. The power to manipulate beliefs is the only thing that counts. That’s why I sided with the powerful and served them, helped the nothing consume this world away — because I wanted to share in their power. Because people who have no hopes are easy to control, as placid and docile as livestock." He licked his chops, and you think he's going to eat you afterall before Beast intervenes.
Gmork maneuvers himself around, until he's facing the cell and looking at the other prisoners. For a fraction of a second, his eyes register surprise, then they narrow again with predatory intent. "You have something of the wolf in you yourself." He growls, low and dangerous. "But if you think to trick me, then you are mistaken. Drop your toy, morsel, or I shall crush the bones of this morsel here before I devour you."

Archer, Alex Russo
Bersearker pauses a moment, then steps over the edge of the circle. Her eyes close, then they open, and she smiles. "I am protected from your tricks." She said, her crazed smile terrible beyond belief. "We all are. They say wizards can survive being burned at the stake, but I've never met one whose lived through it. Have you?" She adds, pointing at the massive inferno on the grounds. Then she laughs, a mad cackle, throwing back her head before she bounds after you.

[darkblade]

Alex

"A little fire is nothing." Alex says as jumps into the flames. As long as she keep running to the other side of the inferno she can probably avoid burns beyond second degree. It's really smoke inhalation that she is at risk of.

***

Sam

Sam sniffs the air, smelling the smoke from outside. "Do what you can Barry. I'll call you back but I think my base is on fire."

He then hangs up, not giving Barry too much information that whoever is trying to set him up can use. He runs outside to survey the damage.

[Draxx]

Beast
"This little thing?" He asked, hefting the improvised equipment, and tilted his head. "Just a toy. Why, are you scared of it?" Beast asked, not flinching at the beasts overpowering presence. "I don't need it. I already know what you are. You're just one enormous, lupine cancer, always growing until you collapse under your own weight."

Archer
The other heroic spirit is torn. Alex nearly killed him, and watching her die would remove an obstacle,as well as neatly change the past even more. However, she had showcased an impressive ability, one that he could definitely make use of in regards to Zero and Kira.

For the first time since he viewed his life as a curse, Archer is struck by indecision.

[Cracklord]

The Council of Knaves
The Jacks of All Trades have been around for thousands of years, their brotherhood, the fraternal order thy were part of had predated Atlantis. They were not the entirety of the Jacks, but they were some of the most influential. And the most powerful
Mister 'Red' Jack Ripper, better known as Jack of Blades (though he wasn't wearing his mask) stood in the alleyway, smoking a pipe. A walking anachronism, he hearkened back to an older, romantic imagining of an older time. A tall, broad-shouldered man with an honest, Irish face, plain and pale but intelligent and smiling, he had a general air of affability and geniality. He wore a long red brocaded leather coat cut in the distinctive Victorian fashion, an intricate cravat and a waistcoat and trousers giving him an appearance of casual sophistication, despite his bluff and hearty features, and closely cropped red hair with a natural curl and the shadow of a beard to go with it. He walked with a slight theatrical flourish, as though putting on a performance for the sake of everyone watching, and there were a few speckles of blood on the collar of his shirt, as though he'd cut himself shaving. There was also a straight-razor tucked neatly as you please in his belt, within easy reach. He was a devil with a razor, as many had unhappy cause to discover.
He had lived in Idris, in The House That Jack Built, representing the Jack's in the place of their leader on the council of five, and maintaining the small, modest home with a white picket fence where they had begun. He kept the house full of butterflies, pinned to the walls and ceiling and any other surface they could be fit, tens of thousands everywhere one looked by the wings like crucifixion in miniature, but still alive. Ripper drew his power from the suffering of others, absorbing their pain, and while sentient's were better as they could suffer more keenly (naturally, the more sensitive the better), they all served to keep him sated. It gave him more time to pick his marks (young women mostly), to stalk them and know them, their mannerisms and habits and territory, before he approached, lured them into his grasp and bled them away.
He had been following this one for hours, and was about to make his move when a round face peered down at him from the roof-tops, then tipped it's battered old tophat. Then it leaped down, bouncing from the walls and landing neatly as you please in front of him, having just drooped a dozen stories none the worse for wear.
Spring-heel Jack was a ragged man, clad in an old, patchwork and threadbare coat and a battered tophat. His teeth were yellow, cracked and broken, his face was lumpen and apish with a receding forehead, and his shoulders and chest were far too large for his body. He walked with a bow-legged waddle, he wore no shoes and his nails were long and sharp enough to gut a man, and he squinted in the artificial, gas-lit light. His home was the rooftops, and he made a habit of ending those who stumbled across his haunts for the sheer fun of it. He and Ripper were two of the strongest supporters of the old, red ways that the Jacks had practiced before Horner rose to power. "Horner got Frost killed. We're down a man." Spring-heel said, by way of justification for his intrusion."
Ripper sucked his teeth, and his eyes blazed. The latest Frost had been another part of their faction, before his untimely death, which had lessened their political power considerably. Jack Ketch could be counted on in a pinch, the others? They preferred the new ways tied to these librarians. "Get me ジャック." Ripper said with perfect pronunciation, watching his mark go with a slight air of regret, before turning his attention to his partner, although no observer could believe the two of them were equal.
Then he turned, and walked back the way he came.
The time had come to act.

Alex
You run through the flames,and it steals your momentum for a moment, a wall of heat that. Such is the intensity of the flames you can't see or hear or do more then lower your head and move as your skin sears and tongues of fire lick at you. It hurts. But it puts a wall of fire between you and Salem, who seems content to stand back and watch you burn.
In the closing circle within there is barely any air, and it's scarcely any respite from the heat of the fire. And the fire is all that's keeping Salem, nothing more then a fold in space held up by spite and human malice from pulling you into an extra-dimensional space and ripping you to pieces.

Beast
Gmork let Smedry drop, and padded closer. "I fear nothing. And your passing of understanding betrays only your ignorance, little morsel." He licked his chops. "I had overlooked you. But you have provoked me, and I shall feast on your flesh."

Sam Axe
The fire blazed out of control, by man or god. It had started in the grounds, but the wind had pushed it back, and it had spread fast and far, down towards the buildings. Fortunately, the school was already more or less evacuated, after the amazing vanishing clothes incident. Which is a small mercy. The soldiers are busy trying to find equipment (and are unfortunately only making it harder for the professionals by getting in their way).
The real question is how this started. And on that note, you do spot the groundskeeper staring at the flames and all but playing a violin. What Michael would call 'suspicious behavior'.

[darkblade]

Sam

"Soldiers stand down!" Sam barks orders at his men as he wanders the fire. Their gear could be replaced but neither them nor the people who die because they get in the fire fighter's way could be.

He then walks up to Willie and draws his sidearm. Normally he'd want to play this subtly but this man just tried to kill hundreds of innocent (and perhaps two dozen less innocent) children. That would not stand. "Drop the fiddle McNero!"

***

Alex

That was a lot more fire than she expected. If only she hadn't sent Mickey away earlier he might have been able to help. She pushes on for a few feet more before the heat and the smoke become too much and her body just shuts down entirely. Leaving her to black out at the heart of the chaos.

[Draxx]

Beast
"Afraid of nothing?" He tossed the improvised tool aside. "Now I have nothing. Nothing at all, just like the nothing you worship." Playing the fool. He doubted it would get him anywhere, but he needed to focus the wolfs attention.

Hansel
Hansel Brandt had a schoolboys simplistic understanding of human nature. To him, he thought of everyone as predator and prey, no room or need for ambiguity. That which was not pure must be impure. And he was true to these convictions every time he found his way back into the minds of men, true to the bitterest of ends.

And so Willie turned to stare at you, the fire dancing crazily in his eyes. Willie was not Mr Garrison, he had no education to speak of, no way of articulating or expressing the idea that burned in his head, though his temperment was far better suited to acting upon it. But he tried anyway. "Don' be tellin' me what's what. Willie was takin' care of business when you was suckin on yer momma's teat. This needs doin'." He growls, then throws a punch.

Sometimes, it's a good idea to punch a man whose got a gun on you. It's the last thing they expect, and so it plays havoc with their reaction times. But you see it coming a mile away.

[Colesign]

Leavenworth Smedry

Leavenworth Smedry narrows his eyes as Gmork lets slip some more beans.

"That's very interesting..." he mutters. "Very, very interesting."

If he gets out, he'll be able to change everything. But how, how can he stop this utter monster.

Then he listens to the Beast's comments about biology, and his eyes widen.

As Professor McCoy taunts Gmork, Smedry picks himself up and begins walking towards Gmork's turned back, walking at an idling, leisurely pace.

And with each step, he focuses his abilities and arrives Late to the sound of his own footsteps and exhalations.

Gmork can kill him with one blow. But if he can touch Gmork for one concrete moment, he may be able to reverse everyone's fortunes and save everyone's lives and grasp on reality.

[Cracklord]

Hercules
(In the interests of fleshing the new and different Herc out, there's a bit of backstory. If you haven't watched Hercules, the Legendary Journeys, then this might seem a little bizarre)
In the deepest, darkest regions of the earth, there is a place that is not a place, in any sense that can be understood. It has many names, as many as it has inhabitants in fact, Avernus, Gehenna, Hades, Sheol, Hell, Perdition to state but a few, but none of them really do it justice. It was foremost an inferno of pain and flame and ice, of darkness and despair where every nightmare had come true long since. We'll call it the Hell, and at above the entrance is still written to this day 'Abandon Hope, all ye who enter here.'
In the stygian depths of perdition, a figure rightened himself, one to whom this place held no terrors. Last time he'd been here, the king of the third circle had fallen to him, and the Chapterhouse of the Order of the Fly was torn down around the heads of the Hellknights. He had been alive then. And yet here, as a soul long after death, he was hardly diminished. If anything, there was more to fear.
He dwelled behind time, before space, and outside of everything, it stood, as testament to itself and it's own eternal nature. The place Akasha. Beyond it's center, outside it's edge, in a space that takes the Heart of the Root of All Things simply because the conscious minds within it decided it must, a battle rages. Spirits of Old, Spirits of the Present Day, and Spirits that might Never Be.
Heroes, one and all, they are venerated in tale and memory, even in this songless age, they stand, transcendent, as perfect exemplars of the ideals of humankind. Heroic spirits were more than ghosts, they were the souls of the greatest of men and women, bound to the world by an unfinished task that pulls at them endlessly until they achieve what they spent their life to begin, and keeps them from rest. Somewhere between a blessing and a curse, for upon victory in the Grail war, they would have another chance, another opportunity to complete what they had begun, but in the meantime they would serve each master who called them forth, fighting endlessly for pre-eminance.
Hercules was born a time long ago – a time of myth and legend, when the powers that ruled the earth were petty and cruel, and plagued mankind with suffering. He had stood apart, and challenged their power, their right to abuse those mortals in their care – Herakles.
Greatest of Heroes he was named, and perhaps rightly so. In his youth he bested the Horseman of the Apocalypse War in arms, joined Jason and the Argonauts to retrieve the golden fleece, and defied Ares, undoing much of his designs despite the efforts of Hera. He prevented the rising of the beast that is called Dahak, restored fire to the world, freed Prometheus, bested The August Personage in Jade in three contests of skill, freed slaves wherever he found them, foiled Setne's plan to use the Necronomicon to awaken the dead and take over Egypt, prevented Caligula from becoming a god, and defeated the Strygoia Vlad and his rule over Lemuria. He had befriended Xena of Amphipolis and Aladdin, bested the Scorpian King and the army of Anubis, saved the life of Thor and protected Eli the prophet, seen places that can no longer be said to have existed, and loved three women, Megara (her friends called her Meg), Deianeira and Serena, although Serena had lost all memory of him.
And yet it was not merely his strength of arms that made him great, but the strength of his heart. He was a statesman, a teacher and a leader. He inspired the idea of the Olympics, negotiated a peace between Rome and Egypt, and taught compassion to the Greek Gods Aphrodite and Ares, which ultimately saved them both from the dread fate that befell the rest of their pantheon. He met the wizard Akira in Atlantis, and become a symbol of all a man could accomplish.
Still to this day, tales of his exploits are told in Eire, Norseland, Sumeria, Britannia and Egypt, and though all are heavily romanticized and lacking in accuracy, they retain the core, that one man chose to make a stand in the defense of those who needed him, stood against many and did not back down. That wherever there was evil, wherever an innocent would suffer, there would be Hercules.
That was enough to keep him from passing on, and nebulous and unformed as it was, it had kept him focused and keep him sane.

"The world has turned more times then known
The hero has cast off his mortal shell,
Yet empty his eyes, his soul unshown
In the keyholes of heaven and hell."

"Still speaking in riddles. But your rhymes are getting worse." Hercules replies, then allowed himself to crack a smile. "Etrigen. Been a long time. I suppose I have to kick your ass now."
Etrigan cackled, then spread his arms, his cloak billowing around him like the wings of some enormous bat.

"And crush the thrones of hell beneath your sandled feet?
I think you long past such valor, beyond such conceit.
And threats ill-become you, as is confidence astray
At least down in the Underworld, where demons hold sway.
Those who believe themselves mighty so often learn late,
that strength measured against mortals is strength none to great."

"Straining it a bit there, Etrigan." Hercules said. "And afraid? Of you?" He let out an honest and hearty laugh. "I never did learn to do that." His confidence in his powers and his apparent immortality made him an incredibly warm, open and friendly guy with little to prove. But his word was the roar of thunder, his might was enough to crush moons in his hands, and his temper was the death of men.
He stepped forward, moving with deceptive grace and speed, and smashed his hard fist into Etrigen's face. There was a sound like a thunder-crack, and the squat demon was sent flying.
"I am Hercules, and I need no further introduction. Hell shall not hold me. I cannot be caged. I cannot be controlled. By you. By anyone. And if you try, I shall tear this place down around your heads. So I swear."

Beast and Smedry
"Mockery." Gmork rumbles, then follows with a roar of black rage being let loose, bounding towards Hank McCoy. He's big. So big, you can't see him all at once. You are so small and it is so immense that you feel it's presence as a physical weight on your shoulders, pressing you into the ground as this thing seen only in fragments, it's burning yellow eyes, it's gargantuan blackness, it's fur sculpted by the muscle underneath closes on you, it's hooked canines glistening with a sheen of polished ivory.
He seems quite unaware of the espionage agent sneaking up behind him, his sounds out of sync with his movements. He's too intent on Beast's throat.

The temptation of Alex Russo
Flashes. Isolated moments in time, followed by periods of blackness. A stretcher. Hovering figures, their faces indistinct. A dim light shining in your eyes. A bed, uncomfortable and sterile. Your mind is only a little lucid, but all it can think of is Salem. This isn't going to be enough to satisfy it.
You are not restrained, but there is no real strength in your limbs, they tremble rather then respond to your prompts, and feel numb but for an unpleasant tingly sensation that your body is registering in the place of pain. Occasionally, more indistinct figures will appear and touch you with unfeeling metal, then step away. hen at last all is still, and he appears.
He is a tall and dignified young man with golden hair standing up like a blazing flame. He is handsome. The aquiline lines and planes of his features could have been sculpted by an artist as an astonishing example of stark male beauty, but that only serves to draw attention to his eyes, crimson like blood. He has a perfect, golden-proportioned body that emanates majesty overwhelmingly male, and wears heavy golden plate armor, fitted to him by some master.
The Diabolus Ex Nihlo, or the devil from nowhere, is a law of magic. Magic has a price, and this was one of the worst. Wizards who use the energy of the universe, rather then their own essence, gradually unbalance the nature of things, and create the need for a counter-weight to restore things. The more you worked to a design, the more it would inevitably push back, sometimes in an unexpected direction.
The results weren't always pretty. Harry Potter, for example, had gone from being a hero who triumphed over adversity with the aid of his wits and his friends, to a cautionary tale on the consequences of working against the fundamental order and drawing too much.
This, it would seem, was directed at you. And it shouldn't be here. Gilgamesh the king that ruled the Sumerian city-state of Uruk, the capital city of ancient Mesopotamia. He was an ultimate, transcendent being so divine as to be two thirds god and one third human, and no others in the world could match him.
Gilgamesh is the King of Heroes because, he was the first man imbued with a spark of the divine and thus, due to the nature of how the Throne judges things, most perfect example of a hero. It's a significant title, because if you look at the criteria for ascending to the Throne of Heroes you need purity of purpose, which is just another way of saying perfection. Gilgamesh is considered the perfect example of a prefect being.
"A thief, who works to steal what is mine. But I am not without generosity. Perhaps if you make proper obsience, I will allow you a sip or two." He said, than the glorious golden figure threw back his head in laughter. "I offer you the greatest of honors. I am Gilgamesh, King of Heroes." His jaw jutted, as though the very mention of his name filled him with pride. "I have come to defend my property, as I do each time. I need a master to do so. So I offer to let you be my master, unworthy though you are you posses a shred of sense."

[AnimeKid]

Maka and Soul

The duo flew off with Batgirl to escape the fire that was enroaching upon them. Hopefully they would get lucky and know one would notice the flying scythe that was carry two people on it. Maka looked down at the flames and she cursed herself for having lost Edward once again. He would no doubt be able to escape the fire with Bella. He would probably lay low after this making her job a lot harder.

Touching down near the roof she gave Batgirl a curt nod before Soul transformed back into his human form and the both of them took the stairs down from the roof. Soul had an impressive scowl on his face as he thought about their luck so far. Kidd had already managed to take down Emmet. Then again, the first soul is always the easiest. With the first soul they don't know anyone is hunting. After that first soul though, their concious of the fact that their days are numbered. They get paranoid, and start exercising caution. Come to think of it...."Maka, do you know where Kidd is? We haven't seen him since he went off to get that message."


Maka shrugs her shoulders as she says, "Dunno where he is, but we should probably find him. Tell him to see if he can watch out for Edward. Maybe he'll have better luck than us." With that Maka closes her eyes, and then opens them sharply, now seeing though Soul Perception as she tries to find Kidd's soul

Kidd

Kidd's eyes narrowed as he started to figure out Robin's attack pattern. 'So trying to wear me out are you? Well then I think that it's time I go on the offensive. But first....' "Shadow Skull Arms!"



As he shouts a sort of black energy seems to pour out of his back until they take the shape of 4 arm-like strutures. They then shoot forward at high speed towards Robin. Two of them attempt to disarm her, while the other two attempt to shred her with razor sharp claws. All the while Kidd sped forward to enter melee range.

Liz and Patti

Liz took a step back from the person who had stopped them. She could sense that he was powerful. While she and Patti could use each other in weapon form considering that they were sisters it was still the fact that they could actively sense this guy that frightened her. He soul perception abilities were never that great. The only soul she could ever locate was Kidd's. Still....

"What is so important that we have to be cut off from Kidd huh!? What's really going on here!?"

Patti nodded as she said, "Yeah! What's the big idea you jerk!?"

(OOC: FINALLY! I managed to post. Geez GMing is harder than I thought. How do you do it Cracklord?)

[Colesign]

Leavenworth Smedry

Blast!

Smedry picks up his pace. But he has to keep an ambling gait in order to properly blindside the Warden.

Almost there...don't go down so easily, Professor!

[darkblade]

Sam

Sometimes it's better to take the punch, let the enemy think they beat you and give them something to gloat about. Rarely to bad men leave you tied to a death trap after explaining their master plan, most of the time they just beat you a little first. Other times it's doesn't matter what's better but what it right. Sam easily dodges the clumsy blow and lets loose a haymaker of his own.

***

Alex

"If you wanted into the Grail War so bad why didn't you respond to one of the earlier summons?" Alex asks weakly. Gilgamesh? As much as she liked her own Saber and his ability to slip in and out of reality with his keyblade Gilgamesh would be a superior ally, assuming there was no hidden cost.

[Cracklord]

Alex Russo
"Am I your mongrel pup? Some cur who wines and pleads until you grant him some few scraps of your table? Perhaps that is good enough for the pretenders to my throne, but I am Gilgamesh. And I am beholden to nobody, yourself included." The over-powering arrogance is such that it feels almost like a personal attack. He waves a hand, and the golden armor falls away, to be replaced with a suit made of woven strands of glittering metal, softly woven gold. It fits him a little too well. Suddenly, he looks less like a mythical hero of old, and more like some young marquis out on the prowl.
"This earth has held me now since the first Grail War, and though it doesn't know it, I am still it's king, whatever fool chooses to crown himself emperor. I ruled it first, and best, and none of them could match me at any handicap. They are emperor's only at my sufferance, only because the business of Statecraft has worn dull upon my greatness. Nonetheless, when the Grail returns, I make it my business to take an interest. It is my property, as is all things, and it would not do to allow thieves to benefit from it." His arrogance is so monumental, it's almost impossible to credit. He honestly believes that. And likely would do his best to prove it, if he were challenged to do so. That gleam in his eye is truly insane.
"I am disgusted by what I see. Who among you can claim any spark of greatness? No, this is an insult to me, and those who may truly call themselves heroes. And I shall not deign to allow it, no I will not. So, I will deign to patronize you, and go through the motions if I must. Though never believe yourself my equal, or partner." He says, as though the mere idea that you might refuse has not occurred to him.

Smedry
It's jaws come down around Beast like the gates of a portcullis slamming shut, just as Smedry sidles into range, so that if he stretches out he will brush it's elephantine rightmost hind-leg. Your talent has begun to return, but it's still weak, and but this will require focus. Concentration. This will require the very quality that makes a Smedry a Smedry, and in great amounts. You gottsta get your head in the game!
Have you got what it takes?
"Why is everyone else speaking in yellow? Does this mean the world is so insane, I'm to be considered normal?" Deadpool asks Wicked John, who is only watching intently, scowling. This is quite clearly not anything like what he wanted to happen.

Kidd
Robin blinks after the barrage, then reaches up to feel the cracked lenses of her glasses. Slowly, her expression changes, before her sister grabs her. "This isn't wrestling tigers, sis. Calm down."
"I want to kill him."
"And I want a pony. Still waiting on daddy-dearest for that one. Tough titties." She drags her sister back into the Book-Mobile, forcibly manhandling her using leverage and plain old gumption. "We're going. Now. We'll meet Pris later."
You won. So why does it feel like only the start of something? Why does it feel that you'll be fighting like this again soon? Your not sure you like these premonitions. Also, Hillary Page (the blond, spunky one who watched you fight) seems to have left her number in your inside coat pocket. With a love-heart drawn on it.

Liz and Patti
"Now that would be telling." He says, with a smile. "But if you must know, I think it involves your gruesome and drawn-out deaths. My master is in a bit of a snit, and all a retainer can do is humor him."