<Crion> NOW: "This is a Glock 17 pistol," said the fetch. "Don't put your finger on the trigger until you intend to fire. Safety is here. This is safe; this is fire." He moves Stewart's thumb gently to demonstrate the positions. "I'm going to leave you on fire so that you don't forget in the moment. That means you need to be extra careful. Under no circumstances do I want you to fire this
<Crion> weapon unless your life is in danger. Again," he said, "this isn't going to be fun. You're going to be scared. And after that, you're going to be okay.
<Crion> "If it makes you feel any better, and I don't think it will -- they tell me the fear is the point."
<Crion> EARLIER: The message arrived...how? What's the easiest way to reach Stewart Reader these days, without physically sending someone to call? The Autumn Court of Baltimore, at least, realizes this is the height of rudeness.
<VoxPVoxD> That's a good question. All of Stewart's old IM accounts have depreciated... and no one really uses IRC anymore. He hasn't got a phone turned on - he can't use his given surname anymore. He's figured out that much. But 'Reader' sounds better anyway. He's been spending a lot of time at the library, (stalking himself) doing research... he's got a gmail account. They'll give those to
<VoxPVoxD> anyone. Lowercase stewart dot reader at. Everything online feels so slick and rubbery, like the walls of an insane asylum.
<VoxPVoxD> Can a UI make you feel homesick?
<VoxPVoxD> Can you feel homesick in your hometown?
<VoxPVoxD> Obama won, that's cool. Didn't seem to matter, which is less cool.
<Crion> Ah, an early adopter. Doesn't even have to have his zipcode at the end. The Autumn Court has answers to those two questions, but they're not fun ones; right now, however, they're more concerned with...well, check your e-mail. You'll see. It comes courtesy of the offices of Kingsley, Santander & Ravens, Attorneys at Law. The logo on the header, stenciled orange on the white background
<Crion> of the GMail screen, is a wreath of leaves that is itself crowned, contains a salamander, and is watched over by a raven with wings outspread.
<VoxPVoxD> Stylish. Very Hogwarts. Do people still remember Harry Potter?
<Crion> The body of the e-mail appears to be relatively benign and honestly hopeful stuff for a jobseeker: the firm has received your application for their open paralegal position, and is happy to inform you that after reviewing your resume they'd like to move to the next stage of the process with a candidate interview, in-person, which would also include a practical skills test. The issue of
<Crion> course being that you've submitted no such resume, and applied for no such position.
<Crion> ...When was it you came back, again?
<VoxPVoxD> It's been close to two months. He's been able to rent a room, using approximately all of the money he made writing papers for college students - there's still a market for that, at least, and they'll still pay cash. He works in the library.
<Crion> That's good. That's what everyone says, at least. He's been to at least two of the "freehold's" little get togethers for new guys and girls just recently escaped or ejected from their particular jails -- probably just the two -- and while the first one was a comfortable social occasion with some fresh faces (many of whom were much more out of sorts than he was to find the year was
<Crion> 2019, and thus got a lot more particular attention from the hosts), the second one was slightly more akin to a job fair.
<Crion> The four Seasonal Courts of the Freehold of Baltimore each sent representatives, and each wanted to know what...precisely...Stewart might potentially want out of an association with them.
<Crion> It's been a couple weeks since then, and this is the first time anyone's reached out. Does this jibe with how Stewart reacted, at that meeting? How does he feel, tentatively and early, about the Autumn Court?
<Crion> How does he feel about the idea of fucking "Courts" in 2019 in general?
<VoxPVoxD> He never was good at these. Teenaged Stewart never really... wanted... a job. The call to vocation never came for him, and he was in the middle of college when the bottom fell out of the economy. He wasn't sure he was ever going to have a future, and then, awfully, he did. At first he thought the Courts were some kind of astrology thing, and he spent the most time talking to and
<VoxPVoxD> about Autumn because his birthday's in October.
<VoxPVoxD> Old Stewart would've laughed himself out the room. New Stewart is coming off ten years as a courtier of sorts. One supposes that's his career now.
<VoxPVoxD> But yeah, Autumn's fine. They're probably all basically the same anyway.
<Crion> Mmmmm.
<Crion> Well, whatever their reasons, the end of the e-mail inquires whether he'd like them to send a car by for him, or if he's like to come down himself. There doesn't...appear to be an ask for an interview time?
<VoxPVoxD> Well shit, if they're willing to save him bus fare and standing at stops wondering if some random weirdo is gonna clock him (or worse, him clocking some random weirdo and not being able to keep from staring) let's get a car. He doesn't yet know how to call an Uber, unless that's still a Team Fortress 2 thing.
<Crion> The (unsigned) e-mail ends on this question; the very strong implication is that the firm wants a reply to ravens@ksrlaw-baltimore.com
<VoxPVoxD> He'll reply then. A car would be great. Thank you! Do you sign this? What's the appropriate signoff for a magic lawyer? He settles on Thanks, again and doesn't reread to see how stupid that looks when he ends the body of the email on a thank-you.
<VoxPVoxD> Ahhhh fuck what if this is a test and he failed it. What if he wasn't supposed to reply? What if there was a code in the email and he missed it? He spends the next fifteen minutes uselessly rereading the email KS&R sent as if he could reload from a previous save and send something less stupid.
<Crion> The message hitches slightly upon sending, it seems like, so you're not actually sure if it's merely weird or downright creepy that the response is an absolutely immediate two paragraphs expressing happiness at your interest in the position and informing you that the car being sent for you is a black Escalade driven by a bearded man of about forty years of age named Gerald. The e-mail
<Crion> concludes by thanking you for your prompt response and entreating you to wait for him to buzz you from the front door of your apartment building.
<Crion> It's quite obviously not form, and all in all it arrived maybe one second after your e-mail went through.
<VoxPVoxD> Well shit. Stewart hurries home. Hopefully he's got enough time to shower.
<Crion> How far away from home is he?
<VoxPVoxD> There's only a couple of blocks between his apartment and the library. Shouldn't take more than five minutes at a just-fast-enough-to-look-awkward powerwalk.
<Crion> Then he'll hear the buzzer 20 minutes after he gets back into his room. Up to him how he's spent the time.
<VoxPVoxD> Ten minutes showering, two minutes getting dressed, eight minutes pacing. He almost jumps at the sound of the buzzer, and all but runs down the stairs.
<Crion> The guy is pressing it a second time when Stewart bursts out the front door, and sort of blinks and leans back a bit at the enthusiasm. He's a big man, in his forties, probably, and very well-built. It is early Autumn -- third week of September; the weather has just changed in the city -- and he's in jeans, a black shirt, and a smart, nondescript black jacket. A flat top cap on his
<Crion> head.
<Crion> "Ah. Stewart. No need to run, kid. Ravens work on short notice. If you want to go back up for a bit, I'll be parked right here."
<Crion> The Escalade is clearly illegally parked, and he clearly doesn't care.
<Crion> He looks like a big, American version of...what was that guy from the Transporter films?
<VoxPVoxD> Statham?
<Crion> yeah, him.
<Crion> Yeah, him.
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart liked that movie okay, though it's got nothing on the most recent Fast & Furious movie: Tokyo Drift.
<Crion> Ah, stolen youth.
<VoxPVoxD> This guy's human, then? Or, uh, looks human?
<Crion> Yep. Though from what he's come to understand everyone in this line of existence looks human if they want to, until they don't.
<Crion> Speaking of, though, how does Stewart look in his Mien?
<Crion> Retcon:
<Crion> Yep. Human, all the way down to the lines around his eyes.
<Crion> Speaking of, though, how does Stewart look in his Mien?
<VoxPVoxD> "I'm good. Don't really have anything to bring or anything. Thanks for the ride." Stewart's Mien looks so much better than his Mask - flawless skin, thick white hair, eyes that glitter like coals. If you ignore the scars on his wrists and neck, as if from straining against shackles, he could be one of those Instagram twinks. His Mask is paler, greasier (his hair always looks unwashed,
<VoxPVoxD> always has always will) and unblemished by scars.
<Crion> He nods and extends a hand to shake. "Name's Gerald."
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart hesitates a second. A handshake is a dangerous thing in Faerie.
<VoxPVoxD> But only a second. "I'm Stewart. It's nice to meet you."
<Crion> "You as well." It's slight and very brief, almost unnoticable as Gerald releases his hand, but Stewart can see the older man's eyes flicker downward to his wrist -- and a pained look briefly flash across his face. He realizes now that the collar on his shirt prevented the man from seeing his neck -- but the cuff on his shirt rode back on his right arm enough for his to see his wrist.
<Crion> And see something that wasn't part of the Mask.
<VoxPVoxD> Ah, shit. Stewart plucks his sleeve back down, fiddles with his collar.
<Crion> "Well let's get going then," he says with a bit of forced pep. He'll pop the locks on the back doors of the escalade; this is true car service, and Stewart gets to ride like one of the rich do.
<Crion> The car ride takes some 25 minutes with traffic. How up for talking is Stewart?
<Crion> A good driver doesn't press.
<VoxPVoxD> Deep breath. This is fine. This is, presumably, normal. He gets in. He wishes he'd brought a book or something to stare at besides the window and the rear view mirror. He looks like a conversation would take him out of his head, probably do him some good. He's too shy to initiate, though.
<Crion> At a light: "You've never done anything like this before, I take it. I hear the process of coming back can be...rough."
<Crion> His eyes flick up to the mirror, then back to the road. "Don't worry, though. These people understand that stuff. I hate those e-mails. We have to make it sound like a job interview, they say. In case someone's watching."
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart: "S'alright. I get the impression I had it easier than a lot of people."
<VoxPVoxD> "Been at this long?"
<Crion> Gerald: "Maybe. Maybe not. I wouldn't know. But I do know it's not worth beating yourself up over."
<Crion> A slight smile. "Too long, maybe."
<Crion> "I never asked for anything out of this life, and I...well. They're good people." He looks back up at Stewart through the rearview mirror. "Even if they're a bit fuckin' weird."
<Crion> He's smiling as he says it though.
<Crion> "Excuse my language. Here we are."
<VoxPVoxD> Nervous giggle. Weird is relative. How big's the building?
<Crion> Gerald pulls the Escalade through into an underground parking garage for a nondescript office building and parks in a spot marked with what Stewart can tell is a sigil with a Mask. It looks like a RESTRICTED PARKING - BUILDING OWNER spot, but its Mien is the same logo at the top of that e-mail.
<Crion> Probably 30 stories. Downtown Baltimore has some modest skyscrapers, and this is definitely one of them, but on the less descript side.
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart, who never buckled up, gets out of the car unless Gerald wants one last word before they start their way up.
<Crion> Gerald leads him to the elevator, nods to the attendant -- who also seems perfectly normal, but clearly doesn't see anything of interest here in the way Gerald seemed to have -- and then steps in and presses floor 27.
<Crion> As the door dings open: "Just be yourself and you'll be fine." Then he steps out into the reception area of Kingsley, Santander & Ravens, Attorneys at Law.
<VoxPVoxD> Deep breath.
<Crion> The immediate thing that strikes you about the reception space is that while there is a receptionist, and she is an attractive woman in her mid to late twenties, that's about where the expectations end. She's in glasses, a tanktop, and jeans, and her "desk" is a monstrosity of computer monitors and secondary or tertiary rigs. Behind her, in the right angle of the wall of the room, ten
<Crion> or so more monitors zip quickly through lines of code or surveillance images.
<Crion> The receptionist looks up with obvious annoyance and glares at you while saying to Gerald: "Do I have to turn these off?"
<Crion> Gerald grimaces. "No, I think it's fine."
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart: "I can turn around, if you want."
<Crion> "Whatever," she says, looking back to her screen. Here's something interesting: even with KBM switches, there don't seem to be enough PCs to support this many monitors. Maybe they're below the desk or something? But the really weird thing is the one tower in the back, just a black, nondescript PC tower you could get from anyone -- with the power light on and the HDD light happily
<Crion> pulsing away, but seemingly no cords of any kind, including power, coming out of it.
<Crion> "This is Lauren," Gerald says with no small amount of mild annoyance of his own. "She's not always like this."
<Crion> "I am always like this," she says without looking up.
<VoxPVoxD> Huh. Stewart won't remark on that, she seems like she's in a bad mood already. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Stewart. Sorry to interrupt you."
<Crion> "It's fine," she mutters.
<Crion> Gerald purses his lips again. "Bob is in his office?"
<Crion> Lauren: "Where else is he ever?"
<Crion> To Stewart: "Alright, follow me."
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart follows.
<Crion> He leads Stewart down a long hallway to the Big Office at the end of the floor, past a wide open area with a few freestanding desks set up as tiny island work spaces, with machinery on the edges of the room that ranges from familiar -- a copier -- to strange -- something that looks like a gigantic vice crossed with a telephone? It's holding the wired handset in place and firmly clamped
<Crion> shut -- to oddly placed -- a hand sanitizer station mounted on a single pole with the label MANDATORY BEFORE USE, next to what appears to be an iPhone 4 bolted to the wall.
<Crion> "Communications tech gets weird here," Gerald says, which isn't really an explanation.
<Crion> At the office door of R. KINGSLEY, SENIOR PARTNER, he'll knock twice.
<Crion> "Come in," says a voice that sounds like...?
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart almost goes for the hand sanitizer before he realizes it's just for touching the phone and not generally.
<Crion> When Gerald opens the door, sitting behind the desk is...Gerald. Except a bit older, and a bit more gone to feed, and a bit more an actual fucking Changeling.
<Crion> Oh, Lauren was too, I merely forgot to describe her. I'll get back to that.
<Crion> The Mantle of Autumn is somewhat overwhelming; there are brown, orange, and gold leaves lightly dusting most surfaces in the room, dispersing with an unfelt gust of wind from, say, the seat of a chair whenever someone wants to sit down in it. The temperature is a bit cooler than you'd expect from an air-conditioned office, but not uncomfortable, and there's that smell. That crisp,
<Crion> fresh smell of Autumn.
<Crion> The one that reminds you of Halloween.
<VoxPVoxD> Boys and girls of every age, wouldn't you like to see something strange?
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart clams up. He can feel the power as much as see it.
<Crion> The man sitting behind the desk is...weirdly slight, and weirdly cast in shadow. In his Mien, his eyes are black pools, and his mouth too dark to see his tongue. He's gaunt somehow in a way that Gerald isn't, despite being a good twenty pounds heavier perhaps. His fingers might be a bit too long, but when they steeple, they steeple in a dextrous web. But really, he should be less hard
<Crion> to see when you're looking directly at him.
<Crion> "Hey, Bob. This is Stewart," says Gerald, conversationally and in plain affect, like he can't see any of what's going on here.
<VoxPVoxD> Do you bow? Are you supposed to bow? Gerald's not bowing. Stewart just stands up straighter. "It's nice to- thank you for inviting me."
<Crion> "Yes," Robert Kingsley, the, ah, King of Autumn, says. "So it is." He narrows his eyes at Stewart and leans forward, and a shadow leans across the room with him--
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart recoils by reflex.
<Crion> Then he grins and leans back, and the light in the room returns to normal. "Just fucking with you, kid."
<Crion> Gerald shakes his head.
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, and giggles nervously.
<Crion> Gerald: "I've got something I've got to take care of with Lauren. Call the front desk when you need me." He slaps Stewart on the shoulder, firmly but not hard in what appears to be reassurance, and then exits, closing the door behind him.
<Crion> Bob Kingsley stands up and waves at one of the chairs. "Sit down, sit down!"
<Crion> The leaves blow off of it.
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart sits, hesitating again only briefly.
<Crion> He walks over to the windows and closes the blinds one by one, blocking out the setting sun. It gets colder in the room. Then he walks over to the walls and turns on, in succession, four oil lamps. They're warm and comforting, and the temperature normalizes somewhat. At the very least it no longer feels like October at midnight.
<Crion> Kingsley then walks back over to his desk, sits down, and steeples his fingers again. He's both easy and hard to see, in this light. The essential nature of his Mien isn't repressed, but whatever these lamps are, they're doing good work making this, perhaps, a bit less terrifying.
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart relaxes. A little.
<Crion> "We have you at an extreme disadvantage, and I recognize that. And while you may not realize it right now, we're more interested in you than, perhaps, you are in us. So in a way, this isn't a job interview at all," says Kingsley. "It's an audition. We're auditioning."
<Crion> He pauses. "How very Spring of us."
<Crion> "So. You get five questions."
<Crion> "And then we start having a normal back and forth, but before that, you get five questions."
<Crion> "Whatever you want to know about us, and so long as it's not bound by Crown or by Oath, you'll get your answers."
<Crion> He smiles faintly. "Of course, there's a lot of things bound by Crown or by Oath."
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart knows enough to know that 'do you have any questions for us?' is as much a test as the questions you get asked directly. But still, this is a direct challenge, and he's more comfortable with that. "Why are you interested in me?"
<Crion> "Three reasons. The first is we're forward thinking. You have computer skills and modern knowledge that none of the rest of your, ah, peers in the freehold's newest graduating class do. You've met Lauren; she's excellent with the technical details and I don't want to undersell her, but we want both more manpower on computers and a...different skillset. You're a streamer, correct?"
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart: "...yeah, I guess. I just got partnered, I should start getting paid in a couple weeks."
<Crion> Kingsley nods. "Good. We're not concerned with your channel traffic; frankly, you remaining on the lower end of the public eye is going to be best for you personally, if a bit less lucrative. What we value is the ability to communicate logos, ethos, and pathos over the digital medium. This world is changing, and that means every other world is changing. And as skilled as Lauren is,
<Crion> there are blindspots in her toolbox."
<Crion> "The second reason is that you are scared. It's plain in your disposition, your face, and your reaction, and that's no mark of shame. All of us are, to some degree, scared. Especially after we've been dumped back out here after...what we experienced in there. But it seemed to us that this was your overriding drive, the thing that you might most directly need to deal with yourself, and
<Crion> Autumn is the Court of Fear. We can help you in this."
<Crion> He shrugs. "If we miscalculated, we miscalculated. It happens. I can put in a good word with Winter."
<Crion> "The third reason is: you were born in October. Just good mojo there."
<VoxPVoxD> Okay, okay. Second question. "How can I help?"
<Crion> Kingsley blinks, which is difficult to see a bit, but it's obvious. "Ah. How can you help. In a broader more general sense than the first part of my answer to question one, you can help by being curious; by investing yourself in the exploration and examination of the world beyond the mundane. The reason we embrace fear in this building instead of anger or sorrow or desire -- all
<Crion> legitimate, all important -- is because we are devoted to making the Keepers feel fear. And that means a thorough, logical examination of the world around us."
<Crion> "In many ways my partner, W. Marcus Santander, is an academic just as much as he is an accountant and a lawyer. The rule and the rod here is to strive to more fully know the world, because knowledge is power, and our enemies fear power."
<Crion> "So, for instance, if you were to join us, you would quickly discover vampires are real."
<VoxPVoxD> Now it's Stewart's turn to blink. "I'd seen some stuff online... where do I go to learn?"
<Crion> Kingsley spreads his arms. "Here."
<Crion> Pause. "I won't count that as one of your questions."
<Crion> "Unless you intended it to be."
<Crion> "I've learned that some find the five-question thing a bit anxiety-inducing; you can stop at any time."
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart shakes his head. "No, uh. Hmm. Third question: what are the rules?"
<Crion> Kingsley nods. "When you join, you will sign a legal document, which is of course both not a legal document at all and the most legal document that there is for our kind. There are three Oaths this Court requires: an Oath of Secrecy, an Oath of Fidelity, and an Oath of Curiosity. We can get into the exact verbiage later, but they're a cascading tier of oaths. The first is that you
<Crion> agree to keep the secrets of our Court secret. The second is that you agree to always assist your fellow courtiers in any capacity possible, so long as it doesn't conflict with the first oath. The third is that you agree to endeavor to increase the knowledge of the Autumn Court, except, again, where that conflicts with the two oaths before it."
<Crion> "Some prospective members...balk, at the order of the first two oaths. But as hard as the choice may be, we would rather lose one of our brothers and sisters than the entire freehold."
<Crion> "Other than that, you set your own hours, we get you health insurance through the company, we take care of taxes and have an adjunct service for filing. We don't sweat the mundane things."
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart: "Do I have to avoid-- I don't know if there's a word. People who aren't us?"
<VoxPVoxD> He almost said 'humans'.
<Crion> "No. And you won't survive if you do."
<Crion> "The Oath of Secrecy is not intended to have you cut yourself off from the world. You'll wither if you do. The other compromises you'll have to make when you do engage with people will be painful; I won't tell you they won't be. But they will be part of your life now."
<Crion> "Now, if by 'people who aren't us' you mean the aforementioned vampires, well yes. You should definitely fucking avoid the vampires."
<Crion> "Excuse my language."
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart digests this for a moment, and finally asks: "If you had to choose again, knowing everything you know now, would you join the Autumn Court?"
<Crion> Without hesitation: "Yes."
<Crion> "And that includes 'choosing to be human again' as an option."
<Crion> "Don't get me wrong: the durance was hideous. It was a horrible thing. But it let me find my brother, Gerald. And he would not exist if not for that."
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart had forgotten Gerald was in the room. "I... I get that. Yeah."
<Crion> Thankfully, he isn't; he went back up front likely to lecture Lauren on her attitude.
<VoxPVoxD> Then Stewart feels a little more comfortable being like: "Some people at the social talked about killing our-- we don't have to, right?"
<Crion> Kingsley looks Stewart directly in the eye. "No. Absolutely not. The preference of this Court is co-existence with our fetches, whenever we can. A measure of it is grace; a measure of it is solidarity. There's some understanding in there. There's the idea that we don't just have to oppose each other because the Gentry did this to us. That there are other solutions. And each fetch we
<Crion> reconcile is another data point. More information for the war against the Keepers."
<Crion> Then he grins. "And you should see how scared they get when you and your fetch fucking come for them."
<Crion> "That's the thing about the powers they have. They were designed without a dream in their faerie masters' heads that they wouldn't be on side."
<Crion> Doesn't apologize for the language this time.
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart relaxes; it's the first he's relaxed since Gerald picked him up. "Okay. I think... I think I'm in. I think this is right."
<Crion> "That said, you are free to do what's most comfortable for you. Even if that does, in the end, mean you have to kill."
<Crion> Kingsley nods. "Good. I'm glad to hear it."
<Crion> "...There's one last thing you have to do. Gerald's going out tonight. You're going with him."
<Crion> "You do as he says and you come through it in one piece, and you're in. There's no grading here, and, well. You've met him. He seems the reliable sort, yeah?"
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart: "Yeah. Yeah, he does."
<Crion> "But everything in this conversation has been the best that the Autumn Court can be. You deserve to know what a bad day will look up before we start putting things in front of you to sign."
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart nods. "Okay."
<Crion> *look like
<Crion> He stands. "In the meantime, Santander will make you a proper United States citizen again. Social Security, background checks, even a passport if you want one for some deranged reason. We have an invoicing system for work expenditures, which in your case streaming will fall under. That should all be prepared by the time you get back."
<Crion> "And if you decide it's not for you, no hard feelings. We're still in the same freehold."
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart stands too. When the King stands, nobody sits. He remembers.
<Crion> "It's good to meet you, Stewart," Kingsley says, and offers his hand again.
<VoxPVoxD> There's no hesitation this time.
<Crion> Kingsley walks him out to Lauren, who is less actively grumpy this time. It's hard to tell if the narrowing of her LED eyes is because of her Mien's sallow, somewhat potchmarked nature, or if it's dissatisfaction that another computer person just signed on. Gerald is standing there too. He nods to his brother, looks at you, and says, "So you're in."
<Crion> He calls the elevator again.
<Crion> When they're alone in the elevator: "Did you eat lunch?"
<Crion> It's almost 6 PM; the sun is falling in the sky.
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart's eaten on average once a day since he got back, slightly above the average Before. "No, I haven't."
<Crion> He nods. "As soon as I get you home, go to your corner store, get a Nutrigrain bar or whatever similar they have, and eat that. Nothing else. No coffee, no stimulants, no alcohol, no assorted other drugs. Did you sleep well last night?"
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart: "No worse than normal."
<Crion> He grimaces. "If you feel like a nap would help and you feel like it's possible to do so, then take a nap. You know your own body. My goal is to pick you up at midnight."
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart nods. "I'll be there."
<Crion> "I'd tell you more about now about this, but to be honest, I'm going to be spending the next six hours figuring out precisely what the fuck this is."
<Crion> *now about this
<Crion> He'll make amiable small talk with Stewart if he wants it during the drive back, but nothing about the mission. He'll drop Stewart off; he has six hours to prepare.
<Crion> Before he drops Stewart off, he tells him to dress casually, and for moving about.
<VoxPVoxD> As soon as he's alone in his room he's immediately convinced he made a terrible mistake joining some kind of wizard support group mafia. Changing out of the button-up makes him feel better. He tries to sleep - no luck. After getting his granola bar, he spends most of his six hours gaming. Evenings from 6 to 2 is his usual streaming schedule, he'll have to cut it short tonight. The
<VoxPVoxD> facecam in the corner shows an uncharacteristically serious expression.
<Crion> The buzzer sounds at midnight, precisely.
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart's out front 30 seconds later.
<Crion> When Stewart gets downstairs, the jacket and flat cap are gone, replaced by a skull cap and leather gloves. All various shades of black and grey. What's Stewart wearing?
<Crion> On Gerald, that is.
<VoxPVoxD> Jeans and a black t-shirt.
<Crion> Gerald nods. "Smart look, kid. Do you have a jacket in that color?" He indicates the shirt.
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart: "I don't have a jacket."
<Crion> He nods again, reaches into the driver's seat of the Escalade, and pulls out a smart leather jacket.
<Crion> He tosses it to him.
<Crion> To you, that is.
<Crion> "How's it fit? Should be a bit loose."
<Crion> It will be.
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart's taken aback, but he tries it on. "Yeah. Thank you."
<Crion> Gerald nods a third time. "Let's go."
<Crion> As they head south towards the Port of Baltimore: "About time I told you what this is all about."
<Crion> "Bob mentioned the vampires."
<Crion> "You're going to meet one tonight, briefly I think. So be prepared for that."
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart: "Can a vampire see me?"
<Crion> "Nah. They'll probably know what you are, but in this specific case, the vampire is gonna be on team blue."
<Crion> "Two weeks ago, three police officers pulled over one of the Autumn Court's...retainers, let's say. Two cruisers and an unmarked car. They beat her bad enough she's still in the hospital and might not walk again, charged her with resisting arrest. She'll be well taken care of on our end. That wasn't supposed to happen."
<Crion> "They stole a book she was bringing from the DC freehold, up to here."
<Crion> "Turns out, all three cops are ghouls. You know what ghouls are?"
<Crion> They're making good time through the lights.
<VoxPVoxD> Sure, they're the next-level-up palette swap of zombies. "Not if it's a vampire thing."
<Crion> "Think of them as blood slaves. They're alive, but they drink vampire blood once a moon or something like that. It's not really important except politically. Because it means that now the Court of Baltimore and the Freehold of Baltimore have problems with each other."
<Crion> Pause. "Yeah, vampires call it a court too. It's confusing."
<Crion> They pull up a block down from a warehouse.
<VoxPVoxD> "Every man a king," Stewart mumbles.
<Crion> Parked outside are two cop cruisers and an unmarked car.
<Crion> Gerald kills the engine and reaches into the backseat. "First thing I want you to do is put this on, and put the jacket on over it. That's why it's loose."
<Crion> He hands you a Kevlar vest.
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart takes it. "...are they going to shoot at us?"
<Crion> "They're American police officers."
<Crion> Gerald pulls on a Kevlar vest of his own.
<Crion> Then he reaches over, pops open the glove compartment, and pulls out a handgun.
<Crion> "This is a Glock 17 pistol," says the fetch. "Don't put your finger on the trigger until you intend to fire. Safety is here. This is safe; this is fire." He moves Stewart's thumb gently to demonstrate the positions. "I'm going to leave you on fire so that you don't forget in the moment. That means you need to be extra careful. Under no circumstances do I want you to fire this weapon
<Crion> unless your life is in danger. Again," he said, "this isn't going to be fun. You're going to be scared. And after that, you're going to be okay.
<Crion> "If it makes you feel any better, and I don't think it will -- they tell me the fear is the point."
<Crion> "Your job here isn't to kill anyone."
<Crion> "Your job is to see the worst that can happen, and its consequences."
<Crion> He'll leave Stewart with the gun, then open the driver's side door and walk around to the back of the vehicle.
<Crion> From the trunk, Gerald removes a fucking assault rifle.
<Crion> "Killing people is my job."
<Crion> "Now."
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart gets out once he's got the vest on. He assumes he's supposed to keep the gun in his holy shit. Stewart just nods, dumbfounded.
<Crion> "We've selected a place out in who-the-fuck-knows wherever. But guns are guns. This gun is a Canadian version military of the FAL rifle, chambered in 7.62. The particular reason I chose this weapon is that unlike all its brothers and sisters, it does not have full automatic fire. Every bullet you put out into the world is traveling death. They go through wood. They go through walls.
<Crion> And you are responsible when you put them out there."
<Crion> "There shouldn't be anyone else here but us, but, 'shouldn't' stopped being real a long time ago."
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart nods again.
<VoxPVoxD> He's never held a gun in real life before.
<Crion> He slings the rifle over the shoulder and walks up to Stewart. "If you need to fire this, don't imagine movie shit. Don't hold it one-handed. Face your body towards where you want the shot to go and hold it with both hands, either out in front of you or about four inches from your chest." He'll guide Stewart's arms to demonstrate the distance. "Don't hold it back far enough that the
<Crion> slide here will hit you in the belly, but the closer your hold it to your body, the better you control the recoil. And again. Don't shoot it unless you have to. You're here to watch, and as far as I'm concerned, that means you're here to hide."
<VoxPVoxD> Another nods.
<VoxPVoxD> *nod
<Crion> He unslings the rifle and brings it up. "Then let's go."
<Crion> There's murmurs from the warehouse as they approach. One of the bay doors is wide open.
<Crion> Two uniformed cops and one plainclothes detective are clearly annoyed at...well, that's a fucking vampire, isn't it?
<Crion> Pale and gaunt even through his bulk, sort of like Kingsley, with slicked back iron hair, a strong chin and a placating smile that still makes it clear that he's the one in charge. Two fangs, sharp and somehow gleaming outside of direct light, peek over his lip. He wears a tuxedo, except instead of a jacket he has a black roman cape, coming down to the small of his back at the longest.
<Crion> The cops clearly think they're arguing about something. Gerald raises his rifle and waves Stewart behind him.
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart follows orders.
<Crion> The plainsclothes detective sees them first. "Guys," he says. Gerald gently leans into the rifle and lines up his shot. "GUYS--"
<Crion> Gerald fires.
<Crion> The vampire grins with too many teeth.
<Crion> "Gentlemen, consider the protection of the Prince of Baltimore, by thine own hand, revoked."
<Crion> Then he explodes into a cloud of bats.
<Crion> As they fly off into the night...roll initiative.
<VoxPVoxD> Holy SHIT--
<Crion> Gerald is unfazed by the bats, but they still block his sight line. The first shot kills the plainclothes detective outright; heart's blood. He goes as quickly as is reasonable. The second shot is during the flurry, and 'only' hits the closer of the two uniformed cops in the shoulder, sending him reeling.
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart ducks behind one of the cop cars, gun shaking in his hands. Shit shit shit--
<Crion> The third cop ignores him. He's focused on the guy with the rifle.
<Crion> His shot, by all rights, should have hit. It does hit, even when Gerald steps before the shot to make sure he takes it on the vest. It just...doesn't do much but make him grunt.
<Crion> Oddly, some dead leaves blow into the warehouse.
<Crion> No trees around for a mile.
<Crion> The cop's eyes go wide, just as Gerald goes still while aiming down sights and shoots him in the chest.
<Crion> Both uniformed officers have collapsed. Both are making horrible sounds as they die. Gerald lets the rifle fall to rest against his chest and pulls his own sidearm. He walks up to both men and shoots them once in the head.
<Crion> He holsters the pistol and sighs.
<Crion> "Stewart."
<Crion> "Put the gun in safe."
<Crion> "It's on your thumb."
<VoxPVoxD> Gerald hears a tiny click from behind the nearest cop car.
<Crion> "You don't have to hold it anymore if you don't want to. And if you've already seen the bodies, you can go back to the car."
<Crion> "If not, you should probably see a dead body now for the first time instead of later."
<Crion> "I'm told it's...different, from over there."
<Crion> "More real."
<Crion> Gerald collects stoops to pick up the spent shell casings from his rifle.
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart pokes his head out and sees the bodies on the ground. He swallows hard. "...yeah."
<Crion> "You did well, kid." He sighs again. "Now I gotta get rid of three fucking cops..."
<Crion> "Summer's not gonna like this."
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart: "Do you need help?"
<Crion> "If you want to give it. Again, you can just set that gun down on the ground there and head back to the Escalade. I was asked to do something very specific, and it's been done."
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart: "No, I'll help." He can't not help, and he doesn't want to sit by himself and think about what he saw.
<VoxPVoxD> Life is so unnerving, for a servant who's not serving...
<Crion> "But I'd look away first," he says as he walks over to one of the crusiers. "Well, not yet."
<Crion> "You should see what it looks like when we do our thing."
<Crion> Has Stewart seen Terminator 2?
<VoxPVoxD> Of course.
<Crion> Then he gets a kind of jolting surreal feeling, probably, when he sees Gerald touch the driver's side mirror of the closest cop car with two fingers, step back, and a weird liquid mirror metal...sword? Needle? Form between the two contact points.
<Crion> "Now you might want to look away. Or not."
<VoxPVoxD> This part Stewart doesn't flinch at. He put in time in the kitchens.
<Crion> With two fingers raised, he walks over to each cop and drives the liquid mirror blade into and through the entry would, making it look like a stabbing death and in two of the three cases driving out the bullet (the plainclothes cop was a through-and-through). Then he does the same to the headshots, which he genuinely might want to look away for.
<Crion> When Gerald's collected the gore: "Help me get them into the unmarked car."
<Crion> "We're going to put them in the Chesapeake."
<VoxPVoxD> "Okay."
<Crion> Once they get the bodies over near the car. "My idea here is we throw the two uniform guys in the trunk, put the plainclothes guy in the driver seat, and a brick on the accelerator."
<Crion> "I'm open to other ones."
<Crion> "While you're thinking about that, though..."
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart: "This is maybe a bad question."
<VoxPVoxD> "But did we get the book back?"
<Crion> He grins. "Smart lad."
<Crion> "Search the other cruiser."
<VoxPVoxD> "Okay."
<VoxPVoxD> He takes the keys off the body.
<VoxPVoxD> This is all weirdly easy for him.
<VoxPVoxD> The bodies aren't even cold yet.
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart checks the glove box, under the seats, nothing. Just paperwork and cigarette butts. He pops the trunk - spare tire, tire iron, shotgun. He's about to shut in when movie-trained instinct has him check for a false bottom to the trunk, which is there, containing what looks like three or four sets of 19th century heroin gear all bolted together, a roll of plastic sheeting, and
<VoxPVoxD> almost in the wheel well a torn-open paper package containing one heavy book.
<VoxPVoxD> "Got it!"
<Crion> The book is...warm. It feels like it contains power. Examining it along the bindings reveal that the pages are too thick. It's a dictionary's size and yet there are maybe forty pages. Are they slats of wood? Do they bend? Do they--
<Crion> "Good."
<Crion> Gerald says from a few feet away.
<Crion> "My rule is not to open that stuff."
<Crion> "Not 'til we're back in the office."
<Crion> On the cover of the book is a tree, and in that tree, a single eye.
<Crion> Open and staring.
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart, with a tinge of regret: "Yeah, that makes sense."
<Crion> "So here's your choice."
<Crion> "You hold on to the book, we go back to the offices, where yes, everyone is still up at one in the morning because this is all a big deal, you sign your papers, you join the court. You get to examine it, if it's safe. In a controlled environment."
<Crion> "Or you hand the book to me, I take you home, and none of this ever happened."
<Crion> "To the extent that can possibly be true."
<VoxPVoxD> Stewart shakes his head immediately. "No, I want to help." After a pause: "And I need your help."
<VoxPVoxD> He holds onto the book.
<Crion> Gerald nods and grins. "Then you're in."
<Crion> "Now let's go see a harbor about three dead cops."
<Crion> --Fin
6 <VoxPVoxD> He holds onto the book.<Crion> Gerald nods and grins. "Then you're in."
<Crion> "Now let's go see a harbor about three dead cops."
<Crion> --Fin