| From: | James Dening jdening@****.co.uk |
|---|---|
| Subject: | The Meeting - III |
| Date: | Fri, 16 Jun 2000 13:21:15 +0100 |
>>>>>[+++++begin video
+++++POV: Main Briefing Room
The silence could be cut with a knife at this point. Minnie
stands there, eyes questioning the group. Suddenly, a low
chuckle fills the room. The driver of the Saab Dynamit stretches
and smiles at the collection of runners.
"Yeah, we're in. Why not, eh? I'm Void, for those of you that
don't know me." he says.
He's a tall, youthful-looking elf. Slimly muscular, the afore-mentioned
perpetual grin is ever in evidence. Shoulder-length black hair that is,
by definition, wild, and green eyes are a counterpoint to casual clothes -
black jeans and a dark shirt, with the almost obligatory longcoat
draped casually over the back of his chair.
"And, this is Ironguard...and Storm, our mage."
The man sitting next to Void is even taller. A fellow elf, he's less
unkempt,
and his features possess the effortless perfection normally associated
with minor simstars. Gold eyes match white hair, seeded with deep
blue highlights. The effect is stunning, and the gold, white and silver
shirt and slacks combination accentuates it. The woman sitting on the
other side of him is a complete contrast. She's also stunning, but with
simplicity as the watchword - wavy red hair drapes over pale shoulders,
with a trim physique hardly concealed by the sheer emerald green
evening gown. They both nod, and the woman lays a hand on Ironguard's
shoulder and whispers something in his ear. He whispers something
back to her, and she nods in response.
"Jules? How about you?" asks Minnie.
He nods, reluctantly, it seems, and his reserved look tells Minnie that he's
not altogether happy with what he's heard so far. Sitting next to him is
Alba. Minnie glances at her.
"Yeah, sure, why not....I could use the money." she says.
"Me too." says Irish, the dwarf. "But I could sure as hell use some
more information. Entering into this sort of drek without any
freaking knowledge is just plain stupid."
"I quite agree" answers Minnie. "Hopefully we'll know more soon."
Irish sits back into his seat, seemingly happy with this.
"How about you others? Frog? Jazz? Cypher" - they answer with nods
respectively, one enthusiastic, one casual and one almost perfunctory.
"Yes......But......only......for......the.......money." replies the sniper.
"That's fine - money is not a problem for me, believe me. Anyway, you
are all welcome to stay the night - dinner will be served in about an hour."
She pauses.
"Look, this is all very odd I know. But *I* believe there is something
really,
really bad about to happen. And as looks like it's going to take a
raggletaggle
bunch of lowlifes..." her rueful grin includes herself in that number
"....to
stop it, then so be it. Good evening to you all."
She sinks into her chair, suddenly exhausted.
+++++POV: The Lobby
The meeting over, people are filing out. Jules and Holden are holding
an animated conversation about the larger man's reservations about the
whole deal.
Harold looks grumpy, which on someone of his size and bulk is amusing; and
he starts to polish an imperceptible scuff on one of his brogues. "I don't
like big gun battles."
"Then you secure our base, scout, or run for help, while we fight." Jules
suggests. "Tiggers don't like machineguns."
"Yeah, but _you_ do."
"So you carry some of my ammunition and a spare barrel, and you watch my
back, and you keep your big head down once the shooting starts. We're not
_all_ soldiers here."
"_Failed_ soldiers." Harold retorts. "And I'm 'claws'. I think. That's
better than 'failed soldier'."
Jules chokes back a sarcastic comment as Minnie walks past, deep in
conversation with Bob Laconi.
"Er, Dona....Minnie?" says Jules.
"Jules, my dear, yes, what is it? You look....apprehensive?" replies Minnie.
"Well, yes, that is as maybe, but I do need to safeguard the main source of
our income, Dona - if you go and don't come back, how on earth will I pay
next month's Aspreys bill, hmmm?" he says, essaying a rueful smile.
"How indeed, dear Jules..." she smiles back at his attempt to make light
of the situation.
"However, there was...er, something else. " He looks around to make
sure no-one else is in earshot. "You want me to lead part of the combat
operation for this, yes?"
She nods in reply.
"Well, I'm not as.....quick...as I could be." He continues hastily. "I
mean,
I'm not asking for a handout or anything, heaven forbid - I've got the money
-
but the thing is...well, I don't really know _where_ to go. I was
wondering...if
you could help. "
Minnie smiles and squeezes his arm fondly then speaks back over her
shoulder.
"Bob, Mr Clarke-Jervoise will be accompanying me to Istanbul next week.
Fancy
a bit of holiday, Jules...I've heard it can work wonderful changes in
one..."
They stroll off down the corridor, leaving Bob and Harold to give each other
unreadable looks. They almost collide as they both turn to follow the
ex-marine and the ex-prostitute walking down the hallway of the opulent
mansion.
+++++POV: Darkened monitoring room.
Bob Laconi reenters the room
"Willow? You wanted me."
The female mage sits up, sweat beading on her brow. She looks tired - it's
only
been thirty minutes since Bob last saw her, but she looks like she's missed
a whole night's sleep in that half hour.
"Yep, got it - about fragging time too - Alba, she's a full initiate mage -
it's
taken me this long to crack her masking. She's pretty hot. And that other
mage...Storm....something odd about her...."
She pouts, face crumpled up in a moue.
"Nope, I think it's my imagination. Sorry, boss."
"Don't worry about it. Call me immediately if you get anything else. "
Bob turns and leaves the room, silence broken only by the steady breathing
of the mage as she goes astral yet again, and the steel whine of the
monitors
that keep the mansion under constant surveillance.
+++++end video]<<<<<
-- Internal Monitoring <19:48:01/16-06-61>
Descabiere Mansion Security
