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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Man and Superman


Ozymandias

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Anzu found herself running side by side with Lindsey, her hands still greasy with hotdog. She wiped them convulsively on her chest, trying to smear what felt like blood away. She was swimming in it, choking...

 

It was the most horrific thing she had seen ever. As she crouched behind a rock with the pizza-eating hacker, she dragged out a paintbrush and a bottle each of black and red ink. Convulsively she began to paint on the back of the boulder, her eyes glazed, not really seeing what she was painting. Under the silky hairs of the brush, the image she had seen came to life, sprawling, bleeding. Her hands shaking, she slowly stopped and sat in silence, her mind far, far away.

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Haeme in red cells... iron coordinated to nitrogen atoms...

 

Alex' mind wandered, the smell of blood clinging to his nostrils. Metallic smell, of course... metallic taste... He shuddered at the memory of the times he had cut himself by accident. What are the properties of Haeme, why does it keep the iron... wait, there is oxygen somewhere... where? He frowned, trying to remember his biology classes. Somehow, he could always remember the chemistry-related parts, but never the exact function of all that stuff that was around the molecules.

 

Oxygen. That's what I need. He panted, not used to running like this. His mind rushed more than his legs.

 

Who? No one had come near them so he supposed whoever killed that girl was around them.. maybe with them... Why? No one had bothered to tell them what was happening, why they had been unrooted... How? Well, no one was paying attention to anyone besides that strange man... or so he thought... well, he wasn't anyway...

 

Alex glanced to his side, then the other. Where was everybody going?

 

He noticed the small man.

 

Small... small molecules have so many chances of interaction... sometimes more than the big ones. Their size helped to reach pockets...

 

Would a small man also be good as a sneaking assassin?

 

~~~~~~~~

OOC: Lord Panther/Zach Petit/Pico on pure guesswork... sorry!

Edited by TheResearcher
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Pig smelt the blood before Alex did, even just being in the boy's pocket. He had been thrown in there rather hastily, and it had taken several seconds to right himself into a halfway comfortable position. From the strong smell of blood Pig guessed that there was a lot of it. That probably meant that someone was dead. If someone was dead, then someone had killed that someone.

 

Pig shook his little head. This was all confusing for a guinea pig. He could also smell anger, a lot of anger, and fear. Someone was afraid. Of course, he couldn't see, so he could only guess who it had been. Maybe that girl who had been eating a hot dog?

 

OOC: voting for Kikuyu Black Paws/Anzu/Bob.

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After what seemed moments and a lifetime, Dennis returned. He had another aboriginal man slung over his shoulder and a grim look. The other man, the group saw as Dennis came closer, had an arrow through his neck. He was dead.

 

After carefully laying him down under a mound of painstakingly gathered stones, Dennis walked back to the tents. He gestured to assemblage to follow him to the television. All followed, Anzu needing a hand on the shoulder to bring her back to herself. She stood from a...vivid painting.

 

The rock now depicted a too-real blood splatter with an oval in the middle. In the middle of the oval was a person that seemed to be pushing with all strength of leg and arm in a vain attempt to break it. Though the figure had no face, it still appeared to be screaming.

 

She stood, taking Dennis' offered hand to do so. A tear ran down her cheek. She seemed not to notice. Dennis patted her gently on the shoulder.

 

Anzu, sometimes Bob, convulsed once, and her body began a violent metamorphosis with an unearthly wail that pierced down to the bone.

 

In two blinks it was done, and the black-suited man that stood where she had been raised a very large pistol to his chest, finger already on the trigger, safety off.

 

Dennis had already begun to move in one blink, and his fingers stabbed forward with lethal force into the man's trachea once, twice, and, even as the man's arm went wide, firing off a round into the mahogany man's side, he was already crumpling to the ground.

 

Dennis half spun to the ground and lay there, groaning softly. The black-suited man changed with the same screech, though muted this time, back into Anzu, sometimes Bob. Her eyes were already glassy as she breathed her last.

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Nathan looked without any visible emotion at the dead body at his feet. He wanted to spit, kick, punch, claw...but it wouldn't help. Someone else had brought punishment to Anzu, depriving him of revenge.

 

"I'm going to bury my sister," he said after a long silence. "Anyone want to help?"

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Pico looked from what was Anzu, or so he was told, to the one that he'd found out was named Nathan.

 

"Hey man. I'll help you. I'll do my best to help you honour your sister."

 

With that said, Pico moved over to Nathan, still a little dazed by all that had gone on. Much like the rest of them, he as definatley in shock over this surreal situation that they had all be thrust into. And who are these men in black, and why would they want to kill them...

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Nathan and Pico finished burying Anya as the others finished a silent lunch. Having waved off offers of help, Dennis finally hauled himself to his feet with a small moan. His bandages had stopped staining.

 

Going to the drink cooler first, he produced two beers and handed one each to Nathan and Pico. He stepped haltingly to the television, and turned it on. Readjusting his loincloth, hip pouch, and bow, the aborigine sat crosslegged in the dirt. His eyes were closed.

 

The screen sprang to life, and a familiar yellow-masked, black sun glassed face appeared. "Yo! Sorry to do this folks, but you guessed it. It's point, click, and ship time.

 

Here's what more I can give you on this stop: These guys who're after you, not the cops, the ones with the awe-inspiring sense of style- they know. They know when people are trying to lift the veil. They're very good at finding them. They can, as I'm sure you are now valium-necessitatingtly aware, be anywhere, be anyone.

 

They're not strictly human. Thus, some security measures. Look under your tents when this is done. The appropriate identifications needed to carry them on the airlines are down there too. Memorize the names on those IDs.

 

Here's the next stop."

 

Another notecard was thrust into the camera lens as he continued. This one had ten separate airline companies listed, and flight times leaving at ten separate times.

 

"This'll be the last one. Ever been to NYC? Wonderful food.

 

You should have enough time to sleep for at least one night. Go get some rest."

 

The tape ended. Dennis calmly stood, walked over, and pulled one of the tents up, and revealed a very wide hole filled to the brim with Magnums, Colts, Walther, uzis, ...guns. Lots of guns. And some knives that appeared ceramic.

Edited by Ozymandias
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It was a much grimmer group that inspected those weapons collected that which they felt would be realistic and necessary for the time ahead. They said little to one another for the rest of the day; too much had happened today for that.

 

Despite it all, noone strayed far from the rest. Perhaps it was out of distrust, perhaps out of a desparate need for stability...perhaps out of hope.

 

Night crept in, and Dennis along some sleepless ones by turns stood watch until dawn.

 

They left with the rising of the sun.

 

Jarod Green was last to leave. Dennis bade him a somber goodbye, offering the odd warning, "Remember how explosive decompression really works."

 

Mystified, he thanked the strange man once more before he boarded his plane in the dark.

 

Hours later, the scant few passengers on the flight were all fast asleep. Jarod had watched three of the most boring movies he'd ever seen since high school biology. He still couldn't sleep.

 

His overstimulated thoughts wandered toward stewardess and alcohol. Lots of alcohol.

 

Noise in the seat behind Jarod's brought his thoughts back into sharp focus. It was the noise that for hours more had plagued his dreams every time he'd tried to sleep.

 

A hand attached to an arm that wore a white shirt and black jacket sleeve clamped onto his shoulder with all the give of a steel clamp. He was aware of the owner's head being placed near his.

 

"Good evening, Mr. Green. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. For a man who works a help line for a living, you're quite skilled at vanishing.

 

That's something the people I reprsent want to talk to you about that."

 

 

Ten flights from Australia landed in New York that day. Two passengers never made it to where they wanted to go.

Edited by Ozymandias
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At the end of this epic journey, Pico couldn't really tell you if he was coming or going, he was that tired, turned around and just plain disoriented. He figured that if he was this turned around and he had the tickets, id's etc, those men in the black suits should be completely lost. Frankly, he hoped so. But what if someone was leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for them? How else would they have known where to find them after such whirlwind trips. But who would be able to get such a feat done without drawing much attention... Pico really wondered and pondered his thoughs on this... could it be?

 

OOC: vote for Guinea Pig/Pig

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Don... Codex... Who was he anymore?

 

The trip to Australia and the ride into the outback had been odd enough. Then meeting strangers, and names that he might have glimpsed once or twice before on the 'net. Murder, more weapons than he had seen in his life, and now this...

 

He hadn't been sleeping well. And his clothes were in bad need of a dry cleaning, or had been in need of that several days ago, and to that end, he was slightly happier to be headed towards civilization. He thought. But then, there was the warning from Edge about those black suited men, and being around more people just didn't seem to be safe. Who knew, though.

 

Thoughts of the life he had led so far and the promises and warnings from Edge whirled through his mind as they returned to the airport, and prepared to leave for NYC. Spotting a small, touristy clothing store in the airport, Codex (or was he Don?) checked his watch quickly, and turned aside to buy a pair of jeans, a rather plain t-shirt, and some sneakers. Stopping by a bathroom, he put them on and disposed of his suit. Maybe that would put those men off his trail, or turn them aside. He didn't know. There was so little that he felt he knew.

 

Boarding the plane was not an unusual experience, except for his nervousness, and he was pleased to see that he had a seat at the very back of the plane with a wall behind his back. At least he wouldn't have someone sneaking up behind him.

 

On the way to NYC, he thought about the attack that had taken Anzu's (or was it Bob?) life, and the one that had killed the aboriginal man before her. Surely there was someone in their group that was causing this, or something...

 

(Vote for Guinea Pig / Pig for lack of a better candidate)

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Nathan was happy to leave this bleak and desolate place. Only his sister's memory kept him. He stood for a long time next to the makeshift pile of stones that marked where Anya lay before leaving.

 

He did not speak a word on the way to New York. When he got there he made the hardest phone call of his life, calling his parents and telling them about what had happened to Anya.

 

OOC: the dice decided that the vote shall be for Lord Panther/Zach Petit/Pico.

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After the fresh air and the vast expanse of the Australian countryside, another lengthy passage of time in that pocket was not pleasant. Thankfully, Pig slept most of the way and woke up just shortly before reaching NYC. The weather was definitely colder than what it had been before they had set out on this latest part of travelling.

 

OOC: looks like I have to vote for Zach Petit - Pico - Lord Panther if I want to stay alive.

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Alex was suddenly awakened by a hand shaking his shoulder. He jumped, almost screaming, and the flight attendant stepped back quickly. Alex reddened, mumbled apologies and something about nightmares, and returned the seat to the upright position. They'd be landing in NYC in 15 minutes apparently.

 

He patted Pig, who was once more in his pocket, and hoped he was alright. For some seconds he was not sure why he had ever brought him into that.... and then his mind got distracted by a very nice combination of atoms that came from the recesses of his mind. Something about the molecular soup that gave life to everything in the universe, including guinea pigs...

 

===========

OOC: vote for Nathan/Patrick

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ERROR//redo from start

 

scanning...

scanning...

scanning...

 

Unknown symbol detected in RUNTIME LOG 1138...Could not communicate packet...VIRUS DETECTED

 

 

 

 

Somewhere else, red and yellow lights strobed across room after room. Alarm klaxons filled the air with panicked wailing. People ran in all directions.

 

"SHIT!"

 

"What, what is it?"

 

"We've been traced! We've gotta pull the plug!"

 

"Now??!?"

 

"If we don't, they'll have us in minutes."

 

"@#$%&. Do it."

 

 

 

 

On flight 401 from Rockhampton to New York, Alex realized with a sick feeling that Pig didn't move.

 

 

 

VIRUS ELIMINATED

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Pico got off of his plane packing two Walther PPKs, two knives, and a much calmer, if not clearer head. He couldn't begin to understand why, but he'd slept like a a baby the whole trip through and now felt vitalized like he'd not been in years.

 

He strolled very carefully off of the plane, heading toward the baggage claim.

 

Before he could even set foot on the stairs, he'd been surrounded by five grim-faced men in utterly nondescript clothing. One brandished a badge, announcing, "Zach Petit, you are under arrest...." and began the litany of charges.

 

Zach looked at the ring caerfully, weighing his options. He thought about his guns. He looked at the fifty foot drop over the railing the to the bottom floor of the airport.

 

He considered his favorite movie, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.

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Codex departed from his plane into the typical noise and confusion of the airport terminal, still feeling confused about the direction he was going, and nervous at the prospect of being hunted by beings that could apparently be anywhere, in anyone. Where would he be led next? And where was everyone else? He usually could see people he knew from long distances, but there was no friendly face in sight.

 

And there was still the issue that one among those he had met at Australia had something to hide...

 

(OOC: My vote is for Alex/TheResearcher)

Edited by Akallabeth
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Alex looked at his palm, shocked. Pig looked almost like sleeping peacefully. He questioned himself rather harshly about bringing his little pet with him, berating his impulses. For once in his life, his mind drifted not to chemical formulas, but to cages and wheels.

 

Cages and wheels... are we not really living in cages and wheels, made of our own desires and impulses?

 

He petted Pig, using light fingers to caress his soft fur and the white spot at his side.

 

And on the other hand...

 

He curbed his thoughts on the strangeness of molecules, always swirling around and trying to find their proper place in reactions, and tried to concentrate on their situation. Someone was too dangerous in their group, apparently... but dangerous in what way? He looked around, sighing and swearing against the waves of perception that had made his life change so much.

 

~~~~~

OOC: Vote against Akallabeth/Codex

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Nathan was sitting in the men's room in the airport and crying. His sister's death coupled with the phone call he had to place to their parents had finally caught up with him. As he sat there sobbing he could not help but think back to the image of his sister's head exploding from the bullet it had struck it. She had been such a chaotic, but still, such a loveable person. Nathan vowed to see the end of whoever had killed her.

 

OOC: I don't want to condemn anyone, so let's make it a three-way tie: Degorram/Lindsey Mitchell/Ves

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Alex scanned the airport calmly as he passed the final security gates. He spotted someone holding a sign that he could just make out as saying simply, "Alex". The person holding the sign started to wave, then suddenly flipped the sign downwards, and strode off briskly.

 

The young chemist had time enough to begin to wonder at this behavior before he saw the glowering man in black sunglasses and balck black suit step in front of him and stop righ tinto Alex's path.

 

"Mister Scott. ou have been instrumental in apprehending four the criminalsb that we had warned you about. Thank you. Sadly, we only caught a fifth thanks to a stroke of luck with local police spotting another one through their dilligence in using wanted posters. Now that you and your comrades have come to the states, we no longer hav eneed of you to track the final three."

 

Alex swallowed uneasily.

 

 

 

 

Order, Codex and Vesdisembarked to a similar scene from each of their planes, but were hustled off to a waiting yellow cab that sped them on their separate ways to, of all things, a 7-11 conveinience store. Ves was last to arrive, and was politely pointed toward the back, her cabdriver having nonchalantly escorted her in.

 

The weather beaten old black man took his hat into his hand and gestured for Ves to lead the way. Warily, she did, and let out a small gasp when she saw Nathan Lestrova and Don Black give her a weary wave when she entered. They were occupying two of four chairs that had been set up around, of course- a television and VCR.

 

Silently, he turned on the TV and a tape. EJLAD.JPEG's familiar spandex mask and black sunglasses greeted them.

 

"If you're watching this, that means you're alive. Good job. Those bastards are tenacious- it's no small feat to lose them, even with help.

 

After all of this, the leats I owe you is a proper introduction. You already know my name. I do go b EJLAD.JPEG, but if that's still a mite uncomfortable, my given name is George." With no further preamble, EJLAD removed his mask, and on the screen before them was the face of their cabbie. Gaping, the three looked to the real life version as the tape ended there. He had the good grace to look embarrassed.

 

"Hey. Seriously, glad you could make it. But we're not quite done yet. No, don't worry! No more flying," he said with a sympathetic grin. "My grandson should be here soon to help. His name's Morpheus- really doesn't like using his 'given' name."

 

George/EJLAD produced what appeared to be a silver pill case. "While we wait, let's have a chat."

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