<Crion> NOW: "What do you want? What the fuck do you want?! What I'd do to you??" the man screams.
<Crion> "You didn't do anything to me," says the Sun Banisher of the Freehold of Baltimore, and kicks him in the back of the knee, forcing him down. "This isn't personal. If it was personal, it would take longer." She steps back, then back again, judging distance, the black tube of the gun still pointed at his head.
<Crion> "Then wh--"
<Crion> The gun only sounds like someone spitting loudly when it fires. He falls dead.
<Crion> EARLIER: So where's Tony living these days?
<CBN> His apartment would be a dump if he didn't devote most of his free time to keeping it organized. It's too small, the lighting's shitty, the building's shitty if you're charitable. But it's on the major buslines and it's what you can get on a lawnmower man's wage, and no one noticed that he installed his own window bars and second deadbolt.
<Crion> That makes him one of that rare species in Baltimore City -- not a Changeling, though that too, but someone who commutes OUT of the city for work. Most of his customers are going to be out in the county, probably close -- Catonsville, Towson, maybe Dundalk though they're not as, aheh, tony over there. Does he have his own business or is he working for someone?
<Crion> The harsh reality of it is that a white man who is willing to mow lawns is going to get more business from the rich white folks than anyone else. But that's all relative, of course.
<CBN> People love paying cash and speaking their native tongue to a guy who doesn't talk much, so Tony makes do on what's slowly becoming a reliable stable of lawn-having entities: A few smaller nursing homes that need general fixit work, your usual upper-middles who'll only take the gas costs for their own mower out of your day's pay SOME of the time, that sort.
<Crion> And hey, a guy who hangs out in weird gardens all day for cash is probably making himself a bit more interesting to the Freehold. How long has Tony been back?
<CBN> Added bonus, the only person you ever have to talk to is the one you're doing something for, and that's a massive step up from a couple decades of rattled chains and bony fingers pointing at bodies expectantly.
<CBN> He's been back since mid-2016, so going from a post-impeachment Ford term the 2016 election felt relatively smooth. Not that he voted, or wanted to push his luck trying.
<Crion> That does require papers...which the Freehold can provide, if he wishes. They've reached out to him -- through letters or e-mails or whatever's most convenient for Tony -- a couple times. First, a meet and greet with other...victims like him...at a too-expensive tapas bar on Charles Street, which he thankfully didn't have to pay for. The second time was a bit more formal: there were
<Crion> representatives from each of the Freehold's four courts there, Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter.
<Crion> Does Tony know what a 'job fair' is?
<CBN> They had them back in the day, but he never went. He was going to go to college on a football scholarship after all.
<Crion> Well, this all seemed suspiciously like a job fair. How did he react to that?
<CBN> But he still managed to scrounge up good-enough-to-get-an-apartment-and-a-bus-pass papers, which at this point could only be better if he wanted to buy a house or get a job somewhere that does full background checks. But good jobs are a bit out of the question.
<Crion> Well, that's a problem all over.
<CBN> Scouting's scouting, and Tony's gotten this far on his strengths: Show up, stand there, and do stuff when asked. So if anyone asked him questions, he had an answer, but he's only social when compelled to be. But he's trying to adjust.
<Crion> Mmm. He probably didn't get too much interest from anyone, then.
<Crion> ...There's a good takeout place just down the block. What kind of food does it have?
<CBN> Hey, coming off 40 years of no interest being the best interest. Some things never change.
<CBN> Chinese is the most adventurous he's going to get without a gun to his head, but it's cheap, stores well-ish, and no one's big on talking to him there, either.
<CBN> This General Tso guy seems to make a good chicken, and that gets him through a couple dinner-to-breakfasts as needed.
<Crion> It's a cool night in September, then, just after the heat's broken for summer, and he's walking home with his favorite order -- they do a good dinner combo deal on the General Tso's. He's getting fewer looks than he used to get; he's one of the few white people in this neighborhood, so they never stop entirely, but he's been here long enough that his presence isn't a surprise anymore.
<Crion> The air is crisp and cool at sunset, and no one bothers him on his way home.
<Crion> Does he lock the door when he steps inside?
<CBN> Both deadbolts, the chain lock with the one-inch vision gap, and if no one's there to immediately block him (so far, there's never been), he'll be giving the window bars a reassuring tug before he even puts his leftovers down.
<Crion> Well, don't get ahead of yourself, Tony. He makes it maybe six steps into the apartment before a changeling steps out into the main room from the door to his kitchen, and one from the door to his bathroom, and one from the door to his bedroom. Behind him, he hears a knock on the door -- from the inside. He'll find a fourth changeling is leaning against that now, too.
<Crion> The one from the kitchen is a thin, gnarled, girlish thing; she seems almost like a mannequin. She's wearing a hoodie but doesn't have the hood up, and though she's got long black hair in her Mask, her Mien is completely bald. When she turns her head, you can see parts working in the exposed sections of her neck.
<Crion> The one from the bathroom is a great, looming force of a man, beady eyes in his Mask and basalt skin in his Mien, hands made for violence respectfully clasped in front of him, dressed like the nondescript driver for a very well-off businessman. Except for the one on the door, he's the closest to Tony at the moment, which doesn't seem like coincidence.
<Crion> Speaking of, the one on the door is a grinning little fuck, but the smile seems sad. Only maybe out of his teens in both his Mask and his Mien, and behind the smile is the ever-present insecurity of a beaten dog. He's the only one that will wilt, somewhat, when Tony turns to consider him; his eyes will dart to the others instinctively for support.
<Crion> And out of Tony's bedroom steps the man who is clearly their leader, tall, bald and handsomely imposing in his Mask...and a complete blank slate in his Mien. Just a face of flat white; no nose, no mouth, no eyes. As his Mask's eyes meet Tony's, he slowly...slowly...slowly tilts his head sideways. Then after maybe three seconds at most of letting Tony take this all in, he asks:
<Crion> "Fight or flight, Mr. Bowen?"
<Crion> The air in the room is 15 degrees cooler than it should be. Ice forms on the vent above the flat-faced man's head.
<CBN> "Well fuck, ok." Tony raises his arms, slowly. "I only have the cash that's on me, if you're gonna break anything start with my face and not my legs, I don't have any guns and the TV barely works."
<Crion_> There's a long pause. Then the flat-faced man looks over to the doll girl: "Neither. It's been some time since we've had a neither."
<Crion_> The big man visibly relaxes; the boy walks away from the door and sort of shys away from Tony as he scampers back behind the flat-faced man. The doll girl leans against the door frame and watches him. "Yeah," she says. "I guess."
<CBN> Hands still up, "Weird shit? If it's weird shit, I'm not going in for weird shit." He lowers his arms into a stance that, if anyone in the room follows football, they'd recognize as coming about 4 seconds before a tackling dummy gets rolled.
<Crion_> The flat-faced man puts a hand on the boy's shoulder before stepping in front of him. "We're not here to rob you. Or beat the shit out of you, obviously."
<Crion_> That gets laughs from everyone in the apartment except the big man.
<CBN> Immediately un-clenches. "Oh well thank fuck for that."
<Crion_> "Oh yes. It will be weird shit," the flat-faced man says. Somehow you can still tell he's grinning.
<Crion_> "But not in the way you mean."
<Crion_> "I apologize for the theatrics. I suppose it appears that we've just broken into your apartment on a whim to have a bit of a laugh. Part of that is true. Not the part with the laugh."
<Crion_> The flat-faced man puts his hand on the bedroom doorframe. "It's important to demonstrate, I feel, at the very beginning, that this world is not a safe one. Things get in."
<Crion_> "And of course, we wanted to see if you'd fight or if you'd run. Doing neither...well then. That is interesting."
<CBN> "Oh, cool beans, cool beans." It's hard doing flat-affect sarcasm without sounding snotty, but there's a resignation here that's just kind of depressing, honestly.
<Crion_> He turns back. "I am the Liaison of the Court of Winter. You may call me...Colin. Currently I am Colin. Soon, I'll be someone else."
<CBN> "Well hey Colin, you want to sit? There's the two folding chairs up against that wall, you'll wanna avoid the duct tape grips on the bottom there, recliner here's mine, standing room only for lucky number four?" He offers semi-un-apologetically to the room.
<CBN> And to the one on the door, specifically, flat and sincere: "Don't sit on my countertop, I just got it like that and I don't know where you've been."
<Crion_> "Oh, of course! My thanks. Jameson will be fine standing." That's the big guy. "And my other associates are Kit--" the boy "--and Spring." The doll. The two males don't respond; the doll girl says, "Yo." She also doesn't move until 'Colin' gives her a pointed (?) look. "Ugh, fine."
<Crion_> The boy pouts and will sit cross-legged on the floor instead.
<Crion_> 'Colin' and Spring take the folding chairs.
<CBN> "You mind if I get this in the fridge before it turns?" He hefts the leftover quart of Menu #8 and the pint of rice, which he knows won't reheat well, but it's about the principle of the thing.
<CBN> And does so. "Lemme just, ope, past ya there, uff." And it's away and he settles into the recliner with a Miller Lite with the grace of a practiced routine, turning it to face the group with one hand as he settles.
<Crion_> He gestures expansively. "Feel free to eat."
<CBN> Waves it off. "Thanks but then I'm out breakfast, and I've got back-to-backs tomorrow just past dawn."
<Crion_> "Understandable." The flat-faced man notices the boy stared at one of the egg rolls hungrily. "Kit. Manners."
<Crion_> The boy sighs.
<Crion_> "We are, of course, guests here. Even if we did break in."
<CBN> "Hey new friends are just strangers you haven't met yet or something, right? One of the books says that."
<Crion_> Spring, flatly: "Yeah. One of the books does, in fact, say that."
<Crion_> She gets another look.
<Crion_> 'Colin': "I'm here to make a pitch."
<CBN> To Spring, "Got some WD-40 for your neck if you need it, you look a little wound up." Then quiets for the pitch.
<Crion_> You can almost hear her eyes roll. Uncanny.
<Crion_> 'Colin': "We would like to offer you an entry-level position in a somewhat-exciting but usually very boring enterprise, with significant growth potential in deception, sadness, janitorial work, and occasionally, incredible violence."
<Crion_> "And I suspect at least two out of those four appeal to you."
<CBN> "It pay, or?"
<CBN> "Because they had one'a these down at the airport Hilton and they wanted me to sell steak knives but that was a pass."
<Crion_> He still, somehow, smiles. "Not so you'd pay taxes on it. We're a...cash operation. We don't sell knives. If you need a knife, we will give you a knife."
<Crion_> Spring: "It will be a real good knife."
<Crion_> 'Colin': "Ask me about the benefits."
<CBN> "Hey I'll take whatever tools you got handy for the job, and cash spends the best even today."
<CBN> "Are the benefits better locks?"
<CBN> "Sorry that's rude of me, sorry, sorry."
<Crion_> 'Colin': "That was precisely what I meant, in fact. We are the security experts of the Freehold, and we provide our best solutions in-house."
<Crion_> "Of course, the best security solution isn't a lock. It's no one being able to find your doors in the first place."
<CBN> "That works?"
<CBN> "I guess you'd never know if it did. Man that's smart." Entirely sincere, a little awed.
<CBN> "Well I'm in. Should I call off my mornings or no-call no-show them?"
<Crion_> 'Colin': "To a certain degree, everything works. But yes. Si vis pacem, para bellum, the Romans said -- if you want peace, prepare for war. The funny thing about the Romans, of course, was that really, they just wanted war. If you want peace, prepare for silence. Isolation."
<Crion_> 'Colin' waves a hand. "Do as you like, there. We don't want your day times. You can adjust how much...lawn care...you wish to do to respond to your new income."
<CBN> "So you need trenches dug, fences built, maybe some'a that uh...ground cover camo-siding, fancy shit like that? I can huck it if you've got it, or toss some together if you need-" Cuts himself off.
<Crion_> "No, the only thing I need from you other than a handshake right now, Tony, is for you to go with Spring right now to a certain rowhouse on a certain street, and do exactly as she says."
<CBN> He holds up a finger with one hand and finishes his beer with the other, it's down, his hand wiped off on his jeans, then extended to Colin. "Hey sold." And he's up.
<Crion_> 'Colin' shakes. His smile somehow widens. "Excellent."
<Crion_> Ten minutes later, out on the street, Spring makes a sound in the back of her throat and says, "So you got a car or what?"
<CBN> "F'n it hasn't been stolen yet, it's on one of these blocks. Maybe it'll even start today." And he takes off walking, and within a few blocks of meandering, indeed, a rusty hatchback almost as actually-old as he is, reveals itself. "Yeah you gotta jiggle the handle there a lot. Handle sticks, lock sticks. I don't think that window works either but you're welcome to really put your shoulder into the crank." He shrugs. "More
<CBN> of a bus man for some reason."
<Crion_> She kind of stares at it for a moment. "Yeah, no shit."
<Crion_> "Whatever. Let's go."
<Crion_> After messing with the handle a little bit, she knocks on the window, if Tony's already gotten in. "ROLL IT DOWN."
<CBN> Tony attempts to do so, and eventually, it should go down at least an inch. One hopes.
<Crion_> "Oh for fuck's sake."
<CBN> "Give 'er a kick, she won't bite." He braces to push when she does, and with some elbow-to-shoulder grease, it should open.
<Crion_> Spring touches the window with an index finger and tilts her head, and the window bit by screeching bit lowers down into the door, following her finger. Then she slides on in through the open window and rolls it up halfway, smoothly. "You're welcome."
<Crion_> "The engine works at least, right?"
<CBN> "Oh, sick."
<CBN> He nods. "That, that' should work."
<Crion_> "Fuckin' fantastic. Here's an address." She puts her newfangled phone on the dashboard. It's got 'Google Maps' up, and is telling him to drive down the street and turn right. It appears to be watching them in real time...? "And here's the app telling you how to get to the address."
<CBN> "But I just ate."
<Crion_> "What?"
<CBN> "The appetizer?"
<Crion_> "Oh my god."
<Crion_> "Okay."
<Crion_> "Look at the arrow."
<CBN> Utterly blank-faced sincerity.
<Crion_> "Folllllow the arrow."
<CBN> "10-4 good buddy." And so he will attempt to do so.
<Crion_> "And nudge me when we get there. Or you crash into a cop car." She puts a pair of what look like hearing aids in her ears.
<Crion_> She touches something on a weird little silver stick she's carrying, and then from her ears, Tony can hear this blaring: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1VPotzhpAGE
<CBN> Under his breath, loosely in time with what he can hear, "and this bird you cannot cha-ee-aaayyynge....ba da doo, da da DA" Drumming his fingers on the wheel while he 10-and-2s his way there.
<Crion_> The address is a non-descript rowhome off 27th Street. There's more than enough places to park out front. Comparing the number on the little screen here -- and the location marker, which follows the car EERILY well -- to the street, they're going to the one second from the end. The only one that looks well-kept, really. And has a guy out front.
<Crion_> Doesn't have anything weird going on. Looks human.
<Crion_> Well. Normal.
<Crion_> Does he nudge her as she asked?
<CBN> Indeed he does. Normal.
<CBN> "Hey we're at the thing, the dot is doing a circle thing. Now it's small. Now it's big. Now it's small again."
<Crion_> She opens her eyes. "Oh. Cool. Yeah, that's phones."
<Crion_> "Shit, dude. Learn about phones."
<Crion_> She snatches it off the dashboard.
<Crion_> Spring tries the door again -- which doesn't work -- then sighs and rolls down the window, sliding back out the way she came in.
<CBN> "I have a phone at home!"
<Crion_> "Yeah, yeah." When Tony's stepped out of the car, she slaps the roof. "How many bodies can you fit in this thing?"
<CBN> And he follows, but, through a functioning door that he locks behind him. Not that it matters with the passenger window down completely. He's not even going to ask.
<CBN> "Together or separate?"
<Crion_> Spring grins. "Do you mean the bodies are separate or the bodies are..." She gestures to like, ripping a dude's arms off. "...separate?"
<CBN> "Because separate you can usually make much better use of space. And then there's liquids but you can't carry liquid, without a pail, so. To answer your question I don't know but I haven't had to test it."
<CBN> He nods. "How else?"
<Crion_> She gives him a finger gun. "I like that answer. And a hatchback is good thinking. Maybe fix the damn doors though."
<Crion_> "Won't need it today."
<Crion_> "When was the last time you went into the Hedge?"
<CBN> He shudders. "I try not to if I can avoid it. So a bit."
<Crion_> Spring nods. "Alright. Well, we're about to do that." She reaches into her pocket and pops a piece of chewing gum into her mouth. Down the sidewalk, at the other end of the street, the guy standing on the door seems to be watching them intently.
<Crion_> And when she leads Tony to an alleyway and blows a bubble in his direction, the man flinches when it pops.
<Crion_> "So."
<CBN> He grits his teeth, which sounds like rusty nails jangling in a paintcan."So..."
<Crion_> Spring: "A lot of the work has already been done here. We're the end of the story, not the beginning or the middle. That's why that guy's freaked to shit."
<Crion_> She spreads her arms at the alleyway. "What do you see?"
<CBN> A good question.
<CBN> "Well there's that door that isn't really...door-ing?" And he points to it.
<Crion_> She grins again. "Oh it'll fucking door, alright."
<Crion_> "But good work, detective. That's the important shit."
<Crion_> That sounds almost sincere.
<CBN> "Cool beans" Thumbs-up.
<Crion_> She walks over to it and kicks aside one of the trashbags. "See this?" There's an...asterisk?...drawn on the brick in chalk.
<CBN> "Trash Hedge huh? Weird shit."
<Crion_> "Don't hate."
<CBN> Holds up his hands. "I'm sorry, I'm learning."
<Crion_> "And don't patronize me. This--" She points at the asterisk. "Is our snowflake. And our north star."
<Crion_> "You see this next to a door, especially one this weirdly stupid and frankly we need to work on our subtlety a bit -- anyway, you see that near a door, that's us."
<Crion_> "Always white chalk."
<CBN> "White chalk, asterisk, 10-4."
<Crion_> "So, when you do this..." She touches the doorframe and puts glamour into it, and it explodes open into a portal into the Hedge. "There's gonna be something good on the other side."
<Crion_> She steps through, half-waving for Tony to follow.
<CBN> And he does so.
<CBN> Covering a wince as he does.
<Crion_> It's sunset on this side too. They're in a weird mostly-urban cul de sac...and if he turns south, towards the center of the city, Tony can see a massive tree sticking out of the hedge, growing around a massive ivory...skyscraper?
<Crion_> Weird.
<CBN> "Weird shit again." Under his breath.
<Crion_> More importantly, sitting in the middle of the hedged-in path atop a long...treasure chest? It kind of looks like a treasure chest...is a particularly grumpy looking hob. With a shotgun.
<Crion_> "Hrrrrrh," he says.
<Crion_> "Yeah fuck you too," says Spring.
<Crion_> "Tony, meet our butler."
<CBN> Tony smiles and kneels down some. "Well hey little guy. What's your name?"
<Crion_> The hob arches an eyebrow. "Hrrrh?"
<Crion_> Spring makes a raspberry noise.
<CBN> "Whatcha got there?" He points at the chest. "Some good treasures? I'm not gonna take 'em don't worry, and I don't think she will either."
<CBN> He turns to Spring."So what's he do, other than this?"
<Crion_> Now it's the hob's turn to roll his eyes. He hops down off the chest onto stubby legs, slings the shotgun over his shoulder, and begins to toddle off. "He acts like a little shit," she says, "and refuses to talk to you, but he can understand you just fine. And he watches our dead drops here in the Hedge."
<Crion_> As the Butler heads out, he raises a middle finger back at Spring.
<Crion_> "Open it up," Spring says. "See what they've got for us."
<CBN> Tony nods and leans forward, flicking the lid back (assuming it'll give).
<Crion_> It opens easily. Inside there appears to be...
<Crion_> A tarp...five beach towels...a pipe?...and a pistol magazine.
<Crion_> "Ah fuck," Spring says. "Seems he went and did it."
<Crion_> "The tarp and the towels are for you."
<CBN> "So who're you killing with the pipe and how far am I gonna have to carry them in the tarp and towels?"
<Crion_> "You know where that guy was standing?"
<Crion_> "Out on the street."
<CBN> "Yeah....?"
<Crion_> "The backdoor of every rowhome leads out to an alley that runs parallel with the street itself. That alley meets the alley on the other side of this portal. So you're going to take the towels and the tarp, walk them up two flights of stairs, then walk them back down two flights of stairs out the backdoor, down the alley, down THIS alley, back to this door."
<Crion_> "They'll be heavier on the trip back."
<CBN> "Two flights of stairs, two flights of stairs, backdoor, down alley, down alley, door. 10-4."
<CBN> Tony rolls up the tarp, rolls up the towels, hefts them over a shoulder.
<Crion_> Spring pulls the pipe and the pistol clip out of the chest, secret them away in her hoodie, and pulls up the hood. "You know everyone's going to think you're a cop if you keep saying 10-4?"
<Crion_> "I mean, fine, if that's cool with you."
<Crion_> Spring walks back over to the portal. "Not cool with me. Not a life choice I'm gonna make."
<CBN> "Cool beans." He nods and sets out as directed.
<Crion_> When they get back out to the street, the lookout guy is gone.
<Crion_> Spring: "You good at being sneaky, big man?"
<CBN> He looks up. If he can see the night sky, he is. "That and a little else."
<Crion_> The sun has set.
<Crion_> "Then here's what we're going to do. We go up the stairs. When I tell you, you open the door -- it'll be locked. Sneak on in to the main room and lay down the tarp. Put the towels over a couch or some shit, you won't need them until after. I'll sneak in behind you. Guy will be in his bedroom, probably. It's where his computer is. Once everything's set, I'm going to nod to you, and
<Crion_> you're going to say, loudly, 'It's getting cold, Roberto.'"
<CBN> "How am I supposed to open the door?"
<Crion_> She pushes the door open to the rowhome and pauses. "You don't know how to pick a lock?"
<CBN> "Badly, if I've got something handy. Unless you think I could kick it? But that'd probably blow that sneaking part."
<Crion_> With exasperation: "...And you haven't made a dread faerie pact with the Arcadian concept of locks either. Have you."
<CBN> "The who? No?"
<Crion_> She grimaces. "Then I! Once again! Will be doing most of the work. Come on."
<CBN> "Well hey now, I drove..."He trails off.
<Crion_> She turns and walks up the stairs to the second floor apartment, pulling the pipe and the pistol magazine out of her hoodie as she does. The magazine goes into a magazine-shaped hole on the pipe with a click, and suddenly, it's very uncomfortable-looking gun. Still holding that gun like it's a pipe with a weird thing sticking off of it, she touches the lock of the second-story door
<Crion_> with her finger and makes a swirling motion. There's a gentle click.
<Crion_> She steps back and nods to Tony to do his thing.
<CBN> Tony holds up a finger, visibly counts to a minute on his fingers standing in darkness, and seems to recede behind darkness that comes over him like leaves falling.
<Crion_> If he bothers watching, Spring looks impressed.
<CBN> After he's sufficiently Less There, he proceeds, slowly, waiting until presumptive-Roberto leaves the room to proceedd further in.
<CBN> If it's all clear, he'll head into the main room.
<Crion_> Seems so. The guy is on his phone in the bedroom, the door cracked open and light coming out into the main room, which has a big open space, a flatscreen on the other side of the bedroom wall, and a couple couches. And a plant or two. Big place to put the tarp.
<Crion_> He's alternately belittling and hysterically screaming at what sounds like either a girlfriend or a mother. Kind of weird how hard it is to tell.
<CBN> He sets down the tarp. Carefully arranges the towels. Having seen enough bloodspatter and done enough cleanup in his time, he's pretty sure he's got it covered. Then he unrolls the tarp somewhere that gives it a nice, centrally-located space from which said spatter may, but hopefully not, emanate.
<CBN> He takes a deep breath and looks to Spring for the signal.
<Crion_> Spring slips in behind him, sticking to the walls. It's weird: Tony know where she is, so when he's looking at her directly, he can tell that she's...glowing, with some inner light. It comes out the openings in her Mien, from, as far as he can tell, her heart. Like it's always a burning light, just obscured by flesh that's now machine.
<Crion_> But when he looks even slightly away, she's gone.
<Crion_> When Tony's set, Spring slides next to the bedroom door, hold the pipe like an actual gun, and gives him a nod.
<CBN> He exhales, inhales again, and announces to the room loud enough to drop his shadows, "It's getting cold, Roberto!"
<Crion_> Behind the door: "The fuck?!"
<Crion_> He storms out into the main room. "The fu--"
<Crion_> Spring is holding the pipe gun like a nightstick now, and hits him twice with it. He stumbles forward. "THE--THE FUCK!!"
<Crion_> "We're not here to talk and you have a gun on you," she says. Her voice has no playfulness, or annoyance, or even sarcasm in it. "Step forward."
<Crion_> "Bitch, I will--" She shoves him forward and presses the gun to the back of his head.
<Crion_> He is now positioned for the tarp.
<Crion_> "What do you want? What the fuck do you want?! What I'd do to you??" the man screams.
<Crion_> "You didn't do anything to me," says the Sun Banisher of the Freehold of Baltimore, and kicks him in the back of the knee, forcing him down. "This isn't personal. If it was personal, it would take longer." She steps back, then back again, judging distance, the black tube of the gun still pointed at his head.
<Crion_> "Then wh--"
<Crion_> The gun only sounds like someone spitting loudly when it fires. He falls dead.
<Crion_> She stares at him for a second, then: two more shots.
<Crion_> Then she tosses the gun onto the body.
<Crion_> "Let's clean it up."
<Crion_> "Good placement on the towels."
<Crion_> This time, Spring will help, and follow Tony's direction.
<CBN> "Like I said, I'm good for a little else." He cracks a smile.
<Crion_> She appears to be...distant.
<CBN> "Toss the towels on the body, that'll help with any drip. Flip the bottom of the tarp up over his feet, and then I'll take it from there."
<Crion_> She nods and gets to work.
<CBN> As soon as she's done, he gets to work. If she isn't paying attention, it goes very fast. If she is, it only goes fast. And soon enough, he's slinging the rolled-up tarp bundle over his shoulder. "And back again?"
<Crion_> "Home again, home again," Spring mutters. She's not quite paying attention. "Jiggity-jig."
<Crion_> She blinks. Then: "I'll go first, and clear it for you."
<CBN> "Cool beans." He nods and motions for her to head on.
<Crion_> The backdoor is, unfortunately, being watched by a couple of dogs. They're able to slip past with just some yipping that becomes barking when they smell what's going on in that tarp. Spring clears Tony through the back gate, then down the alley, then to the 'door' that leads back into the Hedge.
<Crion_> This time, however, she takes an old and ancient key out of her hoodie...and touches it to that chalk snowflake.
<Crion_> It lights up.
<Crion_> She turns the key, and the chalk snowflake spins, and...
<CBN> Tony makes a mental note of that, tightens his grip on his cargo, and waits.
<Crion_> The door bursts open again, to the Hedge again, but this time a gust of wintry snow blows through. "Let's go," Spring says.
<Crion_> They are not where they were before.
<Crion_> The walls climb up like they would in the Hedge, but they are solid rock, with calcified, almost fossilized remains of ivy. Instead of facing a cul-de-sac, they are standing on the edge of a giant pit.
<Crion_> And down there, in that pit, as the ice and snow blow around them, are countless rolled-up tarps.
<Crion_> "Toss it," Spring says.
<CBN> And toss it he does. Feels like home, just with more conversation.
<Crion_> She stares for a moment, then turns back to the portal.
<Crion_> It shuts behind them. The chalk snowflake is gone.
<Crion_> "You know, most people ask," Spring says. Her voice sounds different. Flatter; less mean.
<CBN> "Habit not to, if you probably know enough of the answer."
<Crion_> "Yeah," she says. "Yeah."
<CBN> "And as long as I don't have to dig a new pit and full it up, it's a step up already."
<Crion_> They walk back out to the mouth of the alley. "I think I'll find my own way home. Just need to walk for awhile," she says. The moon is high and the air smells slightly of smoke.
<CBN> "Thank you, by the way. I'm not being patronizing saying I know this isn't easy. But it's not as hard with somebody to talk to." He makes no eye contact at all for any of this.
<CBN> And hurriedly to break the silence, "Anywayseeyouaround coolbeans."
<Crion_> Neither does she. "I get it. And thank you for your help tonight, Tony. I just have to...be somewhere else, right now."
<Crion_> As she turns down the street and puts her earbuds in again, the moon catches the beginning of tears freezing in her eyes.
<Crion_> --Fin.
estamp'>21:27 <CBN> "Thank you, by the way. I'm not being patronizing saying I know this isn't easy. But it's not as hard with somebody to talk to." He makes no eye contact at all for any of this.<CBN> And hurriedly to break the silence, "Anywayseeyouaround coolbeans."
<Crion_> Neither does she. "I get it. And thank you for your help tonight, Tony. I just have to...be somewhere else, right now."
<Crion_> As she turns down the street and puts her earbuds in again, the moon catches the beginning of tears freezing in her eyes.
<Crion_> --Fin.