NationStates Jolt Archive

"Did I say you were supposed to stop them? No. What I said was that something had to be done, something, anything really.

"Maybe you can rescue some of those people, or maybe you can mercifully kill them quickly. Maybe you can avenge those that have died, and those still in their slave shacks. Maybe...I don't know. Thats the point.

"I'm a rich girl, raised to run a corporation. I don't know is possible, I simply don't have any experiance there. All I can do is support you. You have to figure out what, when, where, and how.

"But if you don't want to, and you can keep your mouth shut about this, the door is behind you."

A heavy silence fell.

"If your selfish enough to take it."

Jamie's laughter rang out again. If she'd have been asleep, she was sure she would have woken from this nightmare by now. She gave herself a small pinch just to be certain, she felt the pain on her skin.

She looked at Liz. "You think it would be selfish of me to walk away? That's rich. You sit there and tell me that it's my place to solve this problem, then you'll disappear back to your safe comfortable lives, secure in the knowledge that someone else will ease your conscience." She shook her head, her anger glinting in her eyes.

Turning suddenly, she faced Eleanor. "And your cheap tricks to bring me here. Shouldn't I have been given the choice of whether this is what I wanted to do, instead of being brought here under false pretences?" She smiled sadly. "You know, I could have surprised you."

She lowered her face, and watched as her life flashed past her eyes. She had tried to end it once, she might as well do something useful with the borrowed time she had gained. "I will do this, not because you're forcing my hand, not to make you feel better, not to ease my conscience, but because it's the right thing to do."

Oh, and you have the funds to do what I can do, eh? thought Liz, You have no clue little girl. But she bit her lip instead. With someone so self-centered, she could only make things worse.

In response to her appology, Terry is quick to say.
"You didn't get me into this, Jamie... I got us both into it."

He considers it for a moment...
"But I think you're judging them a little harshly. In their own politically-denaible weasel-way, they are doing something about it. It just happens that we are the first step of it..." he turns to Liz and Elanor "or were we going to be the only people you can beg, borrow or blackmail into doing it?"

"I laud the goals... but why start with us? Wouldn't someone with at least a hint of military training be better... or better than that, how about Superman or Captain Amerigo?"

Eleanor smiles warmly at Jamie and Terry, before responding to Jamie's accusation. "Miss Marshall, I assure you that no form of communication would have been considered secure enough for this discussion. As previously mentioned you are indeed perfectly ... free ... to walk out of the door; although we would ask for a legally-binding NDA of course. As for your point about doing our part ... I assure you, I would be of no use in the city of Hide. I am needed here, and can do my part best here. The same is true of Ms Wang. You, however, have eminent skills and a laudable record as a field biologist - and fitted the profile. Whispering Voices is indeed sending someone. We're looking for people even now."

She turns then to Terry, and looks entirely serious. "We regret that - advanced although our genetic engineering is - we have yet to create a means to allow a person to fly or fire laser beams from their eyes. The Royal Institute is, I believe, working on it as we speak." She smiles again, and her voice begins to echo slightly. "However, we have come to a decision about who to send - and we have had to do a tough balancing act, to combine communicatability with direct field relevance. As for you being the first step ... I can assure you, Terry, that until you got off the plane I wasn't even aware of your existence, let alone attempting to send you off on a mission for the betterment of humanity."

As her anger abated, Jamie began to feel a little uneasy. She hadn't planned to speak her mind, but it just seemed to come flooding out of her. She listened silently as Eleanor spoke, her eyes looked like hollowed pools as her fight left her.

She wasn't stupid, she knew that what those people did was wrong, but safe from the comfort of her own rooms, where she could change the channel, she didn't feel it was her problem. It didn't effect her, she could turn away.

Rubbing the fingers of her left hand, she looked briefly at Terry, a faint smile on her lips. He didn't seem to have any problem faces this, if he was angry it barely showed. Moving her gaze to Liz then Eleanor, she took several breaths eradicating the last of her temper.

"I'm sorry for my outburst." She bit her lower lip lightly. "It is a good cause. I just would have preferred a simple, honest request for my assistance, and Terry's, instead of this." She leaned back in her chair, her features a picture of calm.

A thin smile of mild ammusement crossed Liz's face. "You don't honestly think the best way for us to achieve our goal is to through two random and unwilling people off the street into an alien dimension, do you? A team is being made with much more diverse skills then any kind of military unit. Your part of that, or you can be.

"Though, Terry is it? I'm not yet sure what you can offer." Liz paused. "If you want to go that is...."

EDIT: Errr, looks like I posted just a bit too late. Up to you if you want to RP as if Liz said that or not. I could take out the first paragraph and modify the second....

"I'm not sure I have much of a choice in the matter... or were the stormtroopers purely for show? Listen, I've dealt with politicians before: your next line is 'there is always a choice', I think... or perhaps 'you made your choice when you got on the plane'?"

He sighs. "No, don't answer that. I'm still not sure how you hope a small team of diverse skills to change the fate of a nation. After all, three expeditionry forces failed."

Terry turns then to address Eleanor "As for who I am and what I can bring? Well, I think I can just sit back here and be enigmatic until a dossier gets passed to you, young lady, can't I?"

Liz gives Terry a half-second funny look. Your confused, thats who she thinks, Elenor is the evil politician, I'm the evil corporate richy daughter who asked what your skills are. But again, she keeps her mouth closed...it seems she simply isn't political savy enough to make this work better.

Eleanor nods. "Well - since you've both agreed - I can tell you it won't be just a small team. You'll be operating synchroneously with a small military expedition fronted by ourselves and Vegana; with its full resources at your disposal. However, although our forces are bleeding edge, outside opinions and thought processes are essential when dealing with a foe as alien as Raem. We can rely on our commanders to be clever, innovative, fierce, brave, and loyal: but not understanding. And we need people who can empathise, who have less ... forceful religious and moral beliefs, perhaps it would be best to say." She looks at Terry. "Besides, Mr Urquhart - I understand your family has an excellent tradition in the military. One of your grandfathers was in fact decorated for bravery and rose to be on the Board of Chiefs of Staff, did he not?"

Alan nods silently as Vilorius strolls up. He doesn't appear to be in a talkative mood, but simply leads Vilorius down a couple streets until he sees a cab, which he flags down. They toss their bags in the trunk and hop in. Alan nods to the cabbie, and simply says "C-Int." The cabbie nods and soon their tearing off at somewhat insane speeds. Before too long, they've pulled up to the Chiba City International Airport. As they pile out, Alan and the cabbie exchange some words that can only be described as yet another of the Hack's numerous slang 'languages'. He momentarily touches his chit-stick to the cabbie's, and a few chits are exchanged. They share salutations, and the cabbie tears off again.

Alan turns to Vilorius, "Ready?"

[ooc: We press on, for great justice! Move all zig.

We'll be like the league of extraordinary gentlemen, hah.]

Vilorius nods, rubbing his stomach vaguely. "Sure am.... just need to adjust after zipping around so damned fast."

[We'll be an awesome comic book, but horrid movie?

Heh, and for that Taxi ride, I picture the ride from After Hours...]

Alan smirks as they walk into the airport, "Well, you'll have a nice, relaxing flight. Shoulda told him that you were a com, he might have taken it easy."

Awhile later, they're in the air to Wazzu. Alan puts the seat back and tries to catch a couple hours of sleep.

[Hey Waz, perhaps you should handle the landing, as its your country...]

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[Hey Waz, perhaps you should handle the landing, as its your country...]

OOC: Sorry for being away so long. Anyhow, sure, I'll put in a little discription.

Semi-IC: Not being on a Wazzu liner (ie. FAST), the flight was long and boring. The little fan of the environmental system got old after the first 4 hours. Eventually, scenery started to pass by...if it could be called scenery.

The plane flew first over Agu, a polluted anarchy on the Southern tip of what was once Sweden. The smog, a rainbow colored miasma, glowed further over North Agu, where leftovers of uranium stripmines ionized the air. And then the view got more interesting.

The plane flew high over the smog and constant thunderstorms in Wazzu. The snowcovered tops of mountains broke through the thick atmosphere to the West, while two gleeming and artificial "mountains" did likewise to the Northwest. Those who bothered to look up would notice structures floating high above; the cities of the rich hovered like mushroom tops in the stratosphere.

And then the plane dove down obscuring all view...down towards Ontoppa Thewarld Aerospace Port, the largest in Wazzu.

******
******

Disembarking inside (as everything was in Wazzu), the pair would notice a few interesting things.

It was crowded, with people of all discriptions rushing about to and fro...though oddly, most were quite short. The average and tall people tended to be much older. One thing seemed to remain constant though, everyone was exceptionally rude. The customs agent was one example of a "nicer" personality.

------

Chewing and poping bubblegum, the young, short blue-haired lady (teenager?) figited constantly as the two moved too slowly to grab their passports. "Hurry up, would ya? Your goinna piss off everyone behand ya. I don't need any more of that." She stamped the passports hardly without looking at them, then handed them back.

"New in Wazzu? Take these and move on." The young girl handed over a three inch stack of pamphlets. "And, you might want to stay out of the lower levels." she winked. "Hurry on now. NEXT!"

------

Most of the pseudo-plastic pamphlets turned out to be ads, but a few contained useful information.

Firearms and Wazzu detailed illegal weapons...basically anything explosive or classified as a WMD. Guns, knives, and pretty much everything else were legal everywhere without a license. The paper also advised (in no uncertain terms) not being the first to pull a weapon...it seemed most of the population was armed, and the first non-uniformed person to pull a gun was usually considered a threat by all around him.

Easy Livings was more of a guide on where to find drugs and safe places to use them then of the law.

Wazzu in You decribed Wazzu's laws on imigration and refugee acceptance. That is, anyone would be accepted as a refugee...and any could gain citizenship (and a free education) after a 2.5 year term of service (which was manditory for all Wazzu citizens anyway).

Visitors Preference described the layout of Wazzu. The underground, the 30-story mall that covered most the nation, the literal forest of skyscrapers, the two Megapoli (the artificial mountains, mega-cities built for TransCorp and OrenMoore), the floating cities, the Baltic habitats, the locations of major Wazzu places, the public and private transportation industries, etc. etc. etc.

DANGER! was the last that contained quality information. It spoke mostly of avoiding going outside, staying away from the lowest levels, and about personal responsibility. Basically, if you did something stupid, there weren't many legal options here.

------

Hustled through the crowd, the new arrivals would find themselves in the waiting area of the port proper. From here, they could go literally anywhere in Wazzu. The question was, where?

[Thanks Wazzu. Good thing about those gun laws, heh...]

Alan steered Vilorius to a somewhat less crowded area where they could at least examine the pamphlets without getting run over. After reading about the liberal gun laws, he dug a shoulder holster out of his bag, and quickly slipped his gun under his jacket, prefering to have it close, and easily accesable.

"Reminds me of the Hack," he murmured. "You're fine until you hit the warrens, and then it's 'shoot at anything that moves'." He smiles darkly, "I wouldn't be surprized if we end up down there..."

He stuffed a cigarette in his mouth, but didn't light up, unsure if he'd be shot for it, but needing to at least calm the oral fixation. He flipped through the pamphlets again, trying to judge what their best course of action was. One of his coworkers had a sister-in-law from Wazzu, but he was damned if he could remember her name. He shrugged slightly, he always managed to find someone, somewhere that he knew* he supposed this would be the case here. It'd just take longer.

He focused on the 'Visitors Preference' pamphlet, looking for anything that might make mention of public internet terminals, or mentions of a 'Man of Sand'. He had noticed the rudeness level, and figured that talking to a random stranger would be a last ditch effort.

[* About those contacts... if any of you have ever seen the show Night Court, Alan's like Mack. He's got contacts all over the place. Since Wazzu is near Sweden, and the Hack is roughly where Greenland is, I wager he'd find someone eventually.]

Terry looks slightly abashed at that revelation.
"Yeah. He was a shoe-in for Strategos in his time, before the gout got to him. And you forgot that my uncle was chosen to captain the first naval vessel that Tarrican ever had."

He sighs, looking definately uncomfortable. "... but I think that it has been proven many times in the past that I am not my grandfather."

Sitting in silence, Jamie listened to the conversation between Terry and Eleanor. It was strange to think that she had spent so many hours in his company and knew nothing about him. He'd jumped on a plane for a story, not knowing what lay at the other end, and that was bravery. Must have been a gift from his ancesters.

She smiled slightly to herself, as he spoke of his family, not in the usual way of singing their praises, but using them as a device to lower his own achievements. In her eyes, he would always be a hero, perhaps not hot from the battlefield, but a hero all the same. Inside she felt proud and relieved to know that he was going to be there with her, facing whatever they had to face.

"Perhaps not, Mr Urquhart, but I am sure you have strengths, all the same. Now ... I think time for aforementioned brief period of rest and relaxation, whilst Liz and I look for some more people."

The little girl stands, and a pair of guards enter the room. "These two men will accompany you during your stay, to ensure you're kept comfortable and that Excise Patrols don't give you too much hassle. I caution you in advance, guns are not permitted here. Other than for the basic laws - common sense, really - the city is more or less at your disposal. O'Reilly or Brooks there will be able to answer any further questions you have."

Eleanor gives a brief smile, and waits for Liz to leave with her.

OOC: Never seen Night Court. Feel free to make up any contacts you want. I've been kinda busy (and sick too) lately, so obviously not posting much. It doesn't help to have my attention distracted to other threads either.

Semi-IC: Alan won't find any public computers, but thare are abundant privately owned information stores. Internet/computer access, mail and packaging, news "papers", television/internet news download stores, pocket phone stores, etc. etc. Some stores have multiple or all of the above. [[OOC: I wonder if a Wazzu company should buy out Radio Shack. :) ]].

IC:

Liz exits quietly with Eleanor, now convinced that anything she says is poisoned. As soon as the door closes behind her, she sighs.

"You and I and they are all very different creatures, but I don't think the two of us have problems respecting each others nature. The words in that room hurt. Why can't the two of them accept us? Why can't they see the good we do?"

Liz wasn't sure if she was asking Elenor, or her spirit...maybe both. She was sure she was feeling more then just a little stung.

Alan frowns at the lack of public terminals, muttering something akin to "Luddites" under his breath. After a bit of wandering, he stumbles upon a store that rented out time on computers. He spoke with the clerk for awhile, just random conversation, managing to break through the rude exterior after a couple minutes. The topic of conversation broke into a tangent about sports for about five minutes, and soon Alan had himself some free computer time. He smiled inwardly, amused that he could make friends so quickly.

He started dredging through various databases and news articles, seeking out information on the 'Man of Sand', eventually realising that the Techno Jihad was referencing the Sandman. Contact information was his next target.

[Gack. Sorry, been tied up at school. End of semester projects.]

"No public access terminals? What is this, the stone age?", exclaims Vilorious sotto voce, though judging by the average politeness of most of the people the comment might have passed without anyone taking offense. Lightly, he fingers the weapons in their holsters, much more at ease now that they were where they rightfully belonged.

He lounges about next to Alan, distractedly wondering why everyone was so short.

"Interesting place, eh..... found something?"

[No worries. It happens.]

"Oh yes, very charming, small wonder there aren't more gun fights." He shakes his head slightly, then taps at the screen. "Here we are. Seems our 'Man of Sand' is a local... er... philosopher named Sandman. I didn't hack in to anything, but even basic info tells a bit. He's rather well known around here. I don't have an itinerary or anything, but he might be in country right now. My guess is that, if nothing else, he can put us in touch with some people with similar... ah... objectives."

An address or personal number is out of the question, but should anyone check the tabloids (more of gossip peices then of "sand eating vampire slayed by tomato") they might see he is a patient at St. Judes in the TransCorp Megapoli. They will also note several scathing (and probably 'libelous') stories of him screwing around with a young, pretty traveling companion and a middle-aged aide to billionaire and heir apprant to TransCorp, Liz Wang.

Sandman doesn't have a staff, but he has many previous science coworkers (most on good terms), formor graduate students, and of course Liz Wang's Aide.

Terry is walking along the corridor under escort wondering exactly what rubbed him up the wrong way about those two. They hadn't so much said anything wrong as who they were... was it just his dislike of politics that pushed his button in there? Was it a response to being caught on the back-foot: getting defensive? But the way Jamie had looked when he arrived made him sure they had been putting some kind of pressure on her. Why did that rile him so?

He considers for a moment, then hmmms and makes up his mind to speak. "I'd like to pre-empt you on this one, if I may. It is so my fault I am in this situation... and I bet you'd be in a better position if I hadn't tagged along."

The city that Terry and Jamie are led out to is far colder than it looked from the plane. A port city, the smell of salt hangs in the air but not of fish: one can surmise that the processing plants are probably sealed tight in order to prevent a massive loss of heat.

Hush is also somewhat odd in that, whilst people of many personalities come here as part of trade shipment deals, they are continually monitored. And, from the way they occasionally look over their shoulders, they can feel it. Shepherds walk in pairs throughout the city, performing random ID checks, and troops of soldiers continuously patrol as if to remind people that the army is never far away.

It's almost a relief to be led into a hotel, past the inevitable security guard and into the elevator with the escort nodding and waving to the receptionist. A quick trip up to the top - although that isn't too high, none of the buildings on the Hush skyline being more than ten stories - and Terry and Jamie reach the top floor.

"This is the governmental suite," says one of the guards in a rather gravelly voice. "Please make yourself at home. There are security cameras in every room, but they are only for use in the event of an emergency. You will be notified if they are turned on. The one in the hallway is on all the time, however."

After the lift doors finish sliding open, Terry and Jamie are led through a quick inspection of their rooms - spacious, with thick honeycomb-glass windows that lose a little clarity but keep in a lot more warmth than simple double-glazing. The guards then take their leave, and the two are alone.

Alan frowns at the screen and does a bit more digging. "Let's see... seems he's laid up in the hospital right now. I'm guessing that would limit us seeing him." He looks around some more, and then smiles, "However... I think we've got the next best thing." He points to the screen, "This lady's is an aide to a Ms. Liz Wang, an associate of Sandman. If you believe the rags, a close associate. Perhaps we should start with her. Her name's vaguely familiar."

Remaining silent as the tour of the suite was completely and the escorts left, Jamie finally found her voice. Slumping into the sofa, she sighed, looking up at Terry. "Why do I suddenly feel as if I'm jail?" Her eyes instinctively scanning the room for the locations of the cameras. "What do they think we're going to do? Escape?"

She bashed her head against the chair's back several times in frustration, a dull thud as she made contact to the material. "I can't believe what I fool I was. If I hadn't answered the phone, we wouldn't be in this mess." She brought her eyes to rest on his face. "And if you hadn't been so kind on the bridge..." She laughed sadly. "I bet you wish you'd taken a different route?"

Dana...it may have been the name that sounded familiar. Or maybe it was the face. There wasn't long to decide before a voice sounded out behind them.

"Hey! Times up!" The small buisnessman was fat, balding, unshaven, and a generally disgusting. Though other then the pear shape and slight smell, he looked otherwise healthy "If you want to do more research you need to swipe your card again. If not, scram, I've got customers who actually pay for information."

The question was, did he mean something beyond "scram" by that?

"Dana... Dana..." He glances up at the buisnessman, and frowns, "Ia, ia... cool your jets a second there slick. I'm almost done here." He turns back to the screen, and quickly copies some contact info.

The unkempt man reaches deep into his pocket and pulls something squarish out. Two button presses and 8 tones later, a voice answers.

"Crimson Security Services."

"Banner here, code number 8234-2342-9581. I got a couple people here who think its cute to not pay for services rendered."

"OK." *click*

The man slipped the device into his pocket and spoke up again. "You've about 60 seconds until the Crimsons get here. I suggest you move on."

If there was any chance of bribing this guy for less-then-legal information, it was gone now.

"Hell, no." says Terry as a first response. "Look, bad as this may be I'd still rather deal with it than live my life having walked on by while someone jumped from a bridge. You had no reason not to answer that phone call and every reason to respond to the chance of a job."

He sighs, squinting to look out of the window and take in the view.

"As cages go, this one is fairly gilded. So we could have done worse on that front."

---Post deleted by NationStates Moderators---

The security cameras show no signs of being on whatsoever.

OOC:
Pretty much think I'm going to wait for Anhierarch and Hack to get to here til I post again.

The unkempt man reaches deep into his pocket and pulls something squarish out. Two button presses and 8 tones later, a voice answers.

"Crimson Security Services."

"Banner here, code number 8234-2342-9581. I got a couple people here who think its cute to not pay for services rendered."

"OK." *click*

The man slipped the device into his pocket and spoke up again. "You've about 60 seconds until the Crimsons get here. I suggest you move on."

If there was any chance of bribing this guy for less-then-legal information, it was gone now.

Vil cocks an eyebrow, giving the unpleasant man a look.

"Well, looks like it's time to roll. Dunno who these 'Crimson' buggers are but BlubberBoy here seems to think highly of them."

Alan slips the PDA into an inner pocket, and heads for the door. "Probably some rent-a-cops with firepower. I've got the info we need anyway." As he leaves, he pulls the PDA out and taps in '8234-2342-9581 : Banner'. He grins, "Might be usefull later..."

"Let's his TransCorp, and see if Dana's who I think she is. If so, we're golden. If not... well... we're closer than we've been."

He hustles down the road a bit, blending in as the Crimsons rush into the store. He quickly flags down a cab for him and Vil. "TransCorp HQ." He blanches when the cabbie informs him of the size of the headquarters, "Er... hospital wing. Double tip if speed limits become suggestions."

OOC: I appologize...I've been very busy lately.

Seems everyone else (except perhaps hack?) has been too.

And hack, good move saving that number. :)

IC:

Flagging a cab consisted of pushing a small button on a wall...on a door that lead outside. It took only tens of seconds for the door to open, showing a clean if somewhat out of style interrior.

After paying (swiping a card), the cabbie turns his head...its head...apparantly it is a hand puppet (not even made of real wood). "Whats a speed limit?" it asks excitedly as the door closes and the vehicle detaches from the wall.

Alan and Vil feel themselves pressed into their seats as the vehicle races off into the smog. "Make yourself comfortable," the dummy says, "the trip will take a twenty one minutes."

******
******

20 minutes later, an artificial mountain appears out of the thick air.

http://members.cox.net/sincityraiders/images/TransCorpMegaplex.jpg

[ooc - Heh. "Seems everyone else (except perhaps hack?) has been too." he says as I vanish for 3 days for a wedding...]

"Oh my..." Slightly disturbed by the hand puppet as his back is plastered to the seat, he can't help but grin Now this is a ride! he thinks to himself, enjoying the ride immensely.

When they finally arrive at the TransCorp 'mountain', he gapes in awe, "Wow... that's freakin huge..." He swipes his card again to leave a nice tip, as they walk up to the entrance. "This... this will be... interesting..." He looks about, and shrugs, lighting up a cigarette, figuring such activities won't be allowed inside.

Once inside he strides up to the nearest counter and finds a staff member, preferably one who doesn't look terribly frazzled. He smiles a winning smile, "Good afternoon! Can I borrow you for a quick second?"

OOC Twiddles thumbs. We're kind of waiting on everyone else.

I mean, we could do small talk... but it wont further anything until we can get the rest of the team together.

Still somewhat taken aback by the moderately creepy hand-puppet cabbie and the sheer scale of TransCorp, Vilorius settles easily into the background next to Alan, unconsciously projecting an impression of inconspicuous harmlessness.

Ah.... the joys of a ride where the only speed limit is how far you can rev the engine.

He hums tunelessly.

OOC: Excuse this time? I thought no one had posted...honestly!

IC:

"Ahh! And what can I do for you fine folks!?" The young man behind the desk asked quite joyfully...was he trying to sell something???

And the snow fell ...

Alan smiles broadly, "Ah yes, my good man, I believe you can be of great assistance to my associate and I," he nods in Vil's general direction. "Ya see, we're trying to get in touch with a Ms. Dana. She's been working for Sandman, and I heard she was here with him. She's and old friend from way back, you see, so if you could provide some assistance, we'd be... grateful."

The word 'grateful' is properly stressed.

As if on cue, Vilorius grins broadly, friendly and reassuring.... with a glint of lucre in his eyes.

"Yes indeed, my friend. Grateful."

"AHAH!" the counterperson laughs aloud, "So you want her services too, eh? Well, according to these-" he pulls out a few tabloids from behind the counter, "she's staying in a hotel across the way from his hospital.

"You won't get in, but if you want to see her that bad you could always...."

The man quieted down and grinned at the two, hoping they would be paying customers.

Alan very casually starts using a ($20 equivalent) bill to make a little oragami swan, and glances at the clerk, "We could always...?"

The man looks vaguely hurt. "...start by doing more then tease me with that bill. This is an information booth, we are doing buisness, no?"

Vilorious smiles affably.

"Of course, friend. We're doing business here. Quid pro quo, yes?"

He retrieves a slightly grubby ($50 equivalent) from a pocket, pushing it across the counter with his finger, leaning forward. He's still smiling, but something about the smile says, quite clearly -

Pray I like what I hear next, friend.

"As I was saying," the man behind the counter started, putting his finger on the bills but not dragging them towards him, "you can always wait for her in the lobby. As I understand it, she visits twice a day, but always at a different time so the newscasters get bored waiting.

"Or," he continued, "If your really that close, you can always just make an appointment to see Sandman instead. He likes to talk, I hear he is much easer to get ahold of if you can perk his interest with a message."

The smile again. He turns to Alan, his face reverting back to normal as he does so.

"Hmmm. What do you think?"

Alan smiles, "Easy enough. Let's start with the appointment, hey?" He nods to the desk clerk, "Thanks for the cooperation. Much appretiated. Don't suppose you have a phone number..."

The clerk, the index finger of his right hand still on the money, pulls it towards him. Simotaniously, his left spins a clear screen around. "Phone number? Why not use my terminal instead?" The $50 (equivalent) seemed to be his price.

Alan nods, smiling, "Even better." He thinks a moment, and then his fingers flying across the keyboard.

[code:1:93ab23d404]Sandman,

You probably don't know me or my companion, however we need to speak with you. Allow me a few moments to explain why.

My name is Alan, my compatriot it Vilorious, we are from the Hack. Recently, we saw, as I'm sure you did, a television show broadcast from a nation known as Raem, dealing with the slow, brutal torture of humans for no reason other than the sick joy those monsters seemed to derive from it.

Vil and I decided that... something... had to be done about this. While digging for information, we were told that our first step should be to contact you. From what I have seen, it is likely that you would either have some ideas for a course of action, or people able to put us in touch with those who can.

I anxiously await hearing from you, and hope that you will be willing to offer us such assistance. I can be reached via electronic communication here: <contact info for PDA>.

Again, I await your responce.

Alan Baker[/code:1:93ab23d404]

He thanks the clerk and makes sure his PDA is still receiving signal.

OOC: Actually, I think it wouldn't be. But I think we can ignore that for the sake of time.

IC: The message came back a couple hours later.



Your late. What have you been waiting for? People are dying in Raem and your mucking about outside? Show your ID's to the medical staff and they will be sure you don't get lost on your way up.

-Sandman

P.S. Hurry up, your not dressed yet and the party starts SOON.




Now, insults were an art in Wazzu, a art most people failed at badly. Sandman was rather good at it. A forigner might miss it, but that was rather light hearted. That is to say, mock insult. Or maybe he is just a confused old man....

[ooc- Bah. It's a 1337 PDA :P ]

Alan looks a little surprized at the message. He blinks a few times in an almost comic manner, then shows the message to Vil, as he digs for his ID.

He shows it to the clerk, "Looks like we're going in." He smiles, "Feel free to lead the way."

He snorts with mild surprise.

"Hmmm. I thought he might be acerbic.... sarcastic, too. Must be an interesting man."

The hospital clerk looked in half-suprise at Alan. Suprised he wanted a guide, not suprised it was a forigner who wanted a guide. A quick glance (hardly secure at all) told the clerk everything he needed to know.

"Find your own way. 3 flights up, door 216. You better wear these." He gave the two some nametags. "Oh, and since your the only one who gave me ID, your legally responsible for your friend.

"NEXT!"

The lady in line behind them pushed her way foreward, coughing and rubbing her eyes. One could almost feel sorry for the clerk from the look on his face...almost.

Vilorius blinks, and mutters under his breath, caught off guard.

"The fuck?!"

Alan shrugs, "Eh, let's go." He puts on the ID and hands the other to Vil before heading upstairs.

After a few minutes they find the room. "Here we go..." He opens the door and walks in.

The long-narrow room differed from many others in Wazzu primarially in that it wasn't crowded. Somewhere about a third of the way down, three heads snapped up at the sudden enterance of Alan and Vilorius.

The man in the middle of the group, supported by young women on either side (one definately hospital staff, the other definately not), smiled as the two entered, lost his footing, and started to fall to the ground. The sudden burden caught the two aides by supprise, but the managed to haul him back to his feet. The man cursed his legs, and looked again at the visitors.

"Sooo, you two are our heros, eh? Come in come in...and close the door!. Thanks. Miss Valentine," he addresses the physical therapist, "could you please fetch my chair?" The two ladies manage to put his weight on the smaller one, and the therapist jogs to the back of the room towards a wheelchair. Despite her small size, the second one seems to have no strength problems holding the man up...just a little difficulty with lower mass.

"Gentlemen, may I introduce you to Dana Young. I am of course the Sandman. Dana, I imagine these are Alan and Vil?..is that correct?"

The therapist returns and the three begin trying to sit Sandman back down.

Keeping his gaze in the vague direction of the Sandman, Vilorius closes the door. That done, he gives the trio a respectful nod.

"Ms. Young, Sandman, Ms. Valentine. You are correct - I am Vilorius, Vilorius Ishtar, and my compatriot is of course Alan. And of course you know why we are here."

Alan nods, smiling charmingly again, "Pleased to finally meet you." His mind starts churning, trying to place Dana.

He reaches into his coat, and starts his PDA's voicerecorder before leaning against a wall and looking at the Sandman. "So, what's the score?"

Sandman groaned relief as he collapsed into the wheelchair. "The score? We can't be sure. Tens, hundreads of thousands, maybe millions of humans and others dead, and not a single of the villans punished. If your willing to fix that, you have a flight with Dana here as soon as your ready.

"You are looking to go into and break the heart of the enemy, right?"

Vilorius gives another nod, this time a trifle unsteadily, unprepared for the sheer magnitude of the Sandman's estimate. Nevertheless, his exterior remains calm.

"We'll do what we must - or at the very least, what we can."

As he speaks, he reflects, thinking: Even the most headstrong and foolhardy of the Ashknights would call me mad, here and now....

Alan nods at Vil's responce, "Agreed. We didn't come this far to simply quit and go home. Sometimes action, no matter the odds, is the only option."

"So your ready to go now then?" Sandman asks, but doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, he turns to his therapist, "Ms. Valentine, I have some buisness to attend to, we can start again in the morning." Then to Dana, "If you would please? We're off to the airport."

Dana got behind the old man and started wheeling him towards the door.

OOC: Wan't to get in a quick comment first or get on with the flight?

[Just moving to the flight's fine with me.]

"Right, sounds good."

[Aye, we need a good fastforward before the other principles forget we're here, heh]

OOC: OK, fast... IC:

...Several stairs (at Sandman & co.) on the way out of the hospital and to a private (shock! horror!) airport...

...sleek silver buisness plane, looks fast...

...Sandman and El Bumpo (Sandman's aide met at airport) see the three off...

...half hour trip to Whispering Voices, wings glow red from air friction at hypersonic speeds...

...plane lands, Dana, Vilorius, and Alan get off and into the cold of WV. [[OOC: Freeport is it?]] Heat radiates off the wings as the troop leave, likely escorted by WV military.


OOC: WV, wish to take over with descriptions?

Freeport itself is a city with a relatively mild climate: given to the High Council by Austrin-Ontis, it enjoys the smog and gloom of an industrialised area rather than the marrow-freezing chill of the country to the north.

The passengers are, indeed, greeted by the Whispering Voices military - two smartly-dressed hospitality officers, crisp white uniforms matching the coldness of their greetings. The stop in Freeport is brief: mercifully so, perhaps, given the constant grimness of the climate of Powder, capital city of Austrin-Ontis, visible from the plane as it landed.

A Black Hawk helicopter, white-painted, awaits the travellers. The two hospitality officers - hands never straying far from the slim dart-guns at their sides - keep wary eyes upon the foreigners, their red eyes outshining the cockpit instrumentation panels.

The Black Hawk jolts to life, the whir of rotors and vibrations sounding loud as it hauls itself, back end first, into the sky. It then proceeds to fly north, heading to distant mainland Whispering Voices over industrial complexes and then more pleasant green agricultural land.

"Locked and logged (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?p=2081866#2081866)." says Terrence Urqhart as he leans back from he keyboard. "Its amazing what you can find roaming free over the networks if you keep an eye on the right things. Confirm transmissions from Western Might... and I don't think they're saying 'u r bad.', either."

He looks up from his keyboard to the person standing next to him. "I'm no hacker to wiggle his fingers and crack a backdoor to the Septagon, but we journos know a few places where things linger."

Alan relaxes in the chopper, watching the ground move beneath him. "Friendly bunch," he murmurs to himself.

Vilorius sits quietly, arms crossed and deep in thought - it's the weather, bringing out the more introspective and thoughtful side of the man - a side many might think does not exist.

Here we go....

Dana too was silent. Like Liz Wang before her, she sat watching the countryside pass outside the window. Unlike Wang, she wasn't unused to flying in choppers, even in bad weather, so her grip on handholds was simply firm.

"Beautiful country," she spoke to a guard, "how do you keep it so clean?"

"Currently we're over Austrin-Ontis' hinterlands, ma'am," the guard told her. He pointed out of the window, towards an unending line of black sky in the far distance. "That's Whispering Voices, looks like a storm over the mountains. We may have to land and go via the Lines, if the weather is too rough."

The helicopter, indeed, did slow as the massive mountainous hulks grew closer. Flashes of distant lightning teased the eyes in the midst of the dark clouds, which merged and covered the mountain scape. As they got closer, the rain started. Lightly at first, a spattering across the cockpit, but soon rising to an incessant 'thrum'.

"I'm sorry, sirs, ma'am, we're going to need to land at the border post and take the Line. It'll add a while onto our journey, it's not direct." The guard shrugged: there wasn't much he could do about the colossal storm that was growing more visible by the moment.

Alan nodded with a trace of a shrug. "Hey, it happens. I figure it's taken us this long, adding a bit to the journey probably won't kill us."

Dana's feelings of content at watching the beautiful countryside below changed to excitement as the helecopter decended. Yes, this is where I belong. On the ground, among the people. She chanced a quick glance at a guard. But I hate going in so conspiciously. Hard to learn about a people with such a wall.

But even that didn't diminish her hopes, much. She would be the first Wazzu operative (and one of likely very few if any in the world) to walk there. What a change in culture! What an experiance!

Noting the "ohhhh, OK" sort of impressions practically wafting off the other passengers, Dana expertly hid that enthusiasm outwardly.

Vilorius whistles nonchalantly, nodding in a vaguely noncommital way. He'd rather have seen the storm close up, being something of a appreciator of storms and other such weather, but even he had to admit that flying through a storm like that wasn't exactly the most brilliant idea in the world.

"How did a nation that is covered in over three-quarters of a metre of snow for over three-quarters of the year get to be a superpower anyway, I wonder..." muses Terry to Jamie as they take a walk while awaiting the next requirement of their employers. "I mean, they can't really have great farming or industry... but if they were so good at raiding, then why didn't they just conquer somewhere and rule that?"

"There must be something more to this place, but I can't help thinking that it gives me the willies. Er... I mean that it worries me sometimes, that is." he stumbles over the correction.

The helicopter scuds over a flat patch - possibly a road, buried under snow - and lands amidst a flurry of snowflakes. It's dark outside, almost impossible to see despite the flood-lights as the border blizzard whips around the grounded chopper.

"Hold onto your safety line at all times," calls out the guard with the most pips on his shoulder as he stands by the door. "And we'll lead you into the Line. Do not let go!" A thick red cord - almost a rope, but obviously synthetic - is placed into each person's hand, and the exit slides open. A soldier jumps out, and is immediately swallowed from sight.

"Move it on," the one in the helicopter says. "Don't let go of the rope."

Of course, if the rope was that important, why wasn't it clipped on?

Squinting in the cold, harsh air, Vilorius immediately threads the thick cord through one of several gun holsters. He hops out of the chopper, vainly attempting to look into the distance.

Man, this is some bad weather...

Jamie walked over to Terry, genuinely smiling for the first time since she arrived in Whipsering Voices. She looked at him, inwardly impressed how he had managed to stay so cheerful considering all that had happened, and she felt sure that his ride had been alot rougher than hers had been.

A flash of guilt travelled through her body, as she thought where he could be right now. Eating in an Italian restaurant amongst friends, getting stood up by another foolish woman. She sighed.

But he's stuck in this room with me, guarded to ensure we can't leave. In one - if not the harshest countries in The Devils Desert. And he's smiling.

She took a moment to ponder his query, although she was certain he was just trying to fill the time, rather than really wanting an answer. "I guess this place puts people off coming. If it was a nice welcoming country..." She almost choked on the words. "People would be inclined to visit. And the place has too many secrets to let strangers come in a snoop." She laughed. "That's what I think anyway."

[ooc:] bump

Terry is glad he's managed to make Jamie smile. It was a pretty depressing situation for them and she seemed to be piling herself with guilt for the both of them. Which made her more depressed and him even more guilty. Which didn't help, in his opinion, so cheering up was in order.

"A place apart that wants to keep itself that way?" he muses. "A funny choice for a people to make... yet now they're intervening all over the place. Provided people don't 'intervene' back, of course."

"That kid, though... she was a little freaky."

Dana grabbed the line in both hands, closed her eyes and took a breath. OK, here we go, through the cold and to the other side. She hopped out and moved in the direction where others had dissappeared into the blizzard.

Let he who is without sin...

Sitting on the edge of a desk, Jamie pondered Terry's remark. It was a very strange nation, not wanting interference from others but pushing their way into others business. She'd never really thought of it before, never felt the need to look that closely at the country.

Her mind turned towards Eleanor, the little girl who had sat opposite her, treating her like a criminal. The child's image played through her thoughts, it was a strangely unnerving situation.

"I supposed that everything that steers away from the norm seems freaky." She caught his eyes in her gaze. "I imagine seeing someone standing on a bridge about to jump could be consider rather strange. It's all a matter of perspective."

[Sorry for the delay, been on vacation]

Alan looped the rope around his wrist, mildly unsure of where he's being led. He felt paranoia surging up from the pit of his stomach.

Must be hanging with those guys from GMC a bit too much...

Even as this thought floats aimlessly through his mind, he finds himself resting his hand on his pistol, ready to draw it on a moment's notice. He frowned at his growing paranoia, but decided to label it "being prepared", and felt a little better about it.

"Lovely weather," he said to nobody in particular, figuring he'd be drowned out by the howling wind anyway.

The bizarre conga line is led through the raging blizzard for almost five minutes, at times the wind growing strong enough to threaten the balance of those brave enough to walk through. Eventually, the tugging on the rope stops, indicating that the soldier has reached his destination. As those behind move up, they find themselves in the slight shelter provided by the lee of a small mound, built up to cover a huge metal doorway - currently open.

The soldier in the lead gestures, waving people in, counting them off one by one as they enter into the chill but gloriously still inside of the bunker: well lit, if harshly, a metal-sided corridor leading deep underground.

Once the entire party is inside, including the soldiers, a massive blast-door begins to shut, and the rope is gathered in and tied into a loop.

Vilorius gives a throaty cough as he enters the bunker, brushing the thick snow off his clothes.

Temple and Arch, that's probably the worst storm I've ever seen.... so far.

Running a hand through his hair, he successfully dislodges a tiny avalanche of snow. Though glad to be in the relative warmth of the bunker, he just knows the snow gently melting in his clothes is going to give him quite a time.

He looks at the soldier who seems to be in charge.

"Hey, can I smoke in here?"

Alan smiles at Vil's question, hoping for a favorable answer.

He looks around the bunker, smiling to himself, and relaxing considerably. He brushes the snow off of his coat and hair, murmuring to himself, "Feels like home..."

He rubs his hands together, warming them a bit and waits for whatever may come next.

The soldier's posture indicates him as being somewhat surprised by the question.

"Ahem ... tobacco is a Class B illegal drug within Whispering Voices, sir. I would strongly advise against smoking: in fact, when you meet with your liaison it would make things easier should you surrender any addictive and dangerous drugs to the liaison officer."

He nods, then they walk down through the ground: for a long way. It's hard to judge distance, but after a hundred and one steps each about a half-foot high, they reach a massive elevator shaft complex. The soldiers politely escort them in. Within the lift the walls are steel. The everpresent weight-limit sticker indicates an industrial lift, it's huge with a capacity measured in tonnes. It begins to descend, for almost five minutes solidly, before the doors open and the passengers look out onto ...

what appears to be an underground railway station, a single-car mag-lev train pulled in. Soldiers stand at attention as they are led onto the train, and sat down in comfortable seats with body-belts.

"Hold on tight," the soldier advises. "Vomit depositories are strapped under your seat."

And it slides away, slowly at first, but rapidly building up speed to a point where it is almost impossible to gauge. It's dark, with no windows, and the motion is smooth. An odd sensation. Soon, pacifying music begins playing ... mixed with natural sounds, such as the howl of wolves, and storms.

It takes six hours for the journey to end, sliding into a station almost identical to the first.

"Welcome, sirs, to Hush," one of the escorts says with a brief smile.

By the time they reach the surface - via means of a retractable ladder - they are in a large basement area with turret-mounted guns. A metal door opens up ... into a hotel lobby.

"The other guests are upstairs ... if you will follow me?"

OOC:
Finally y'all are together!

Well, bugger me with a spiky icicle if this place isn't militarized as hell.

Vilorius keeps glancing around at the soldiers, slightly miffed to discover tobacco's status in the laws of Whispering Voices. Idly, he wonders what they think of orally ingested marijuana.

Still, he keeps his eyes peeled, naturally curious about a place he's never visited before.

I should have brought a camera... then again, that might be illegal too. I wonder what the penalty for... whatchamacallit, yeah, Class B Illegal drugs are.

Keeping a hand on a small, worn packet of cigarettes, he keeps an eye out for anyone that looks like a Liaison Officer.

Seeing the mag-lev train, he immediately jumps to the conclusion that the journey would be fairly short.... a wrong conclusion, of course, and he ends up sleeping on the train. At the end of the journey he awakens, blearily rubbing his eyes and stretching.

"Mnr... other guests, eh?"

Alan's face fell when the officered mentioned that tobacco was illegal. He sighed muttering under his breath, "Well, I was supposed to be quitting..."

After getting used to the ridiculous speeds on the train, he finds himself feeling rather relaxed. He pulls out his PDA, hoping they aren't illegal, and starts going over some of the notes he's taken. Might as well make use of the down time...

Which works for about 20 minutes, until he also falls asleep.

--

He whistles at the gun turrents, but doesn't say anything else, simply nodding and smiling. "I can't wait to meet the... ah... others."

OOC:
The idea was that Gehenna Tartarus and Tarrican would meet the others then we could get under way, however it appears to have died. Anyone want to keep it going?

[ooc: Still here.]

OOC: I'm around, and willing to keep going.

But can we start up again after New Years? Going to be fairly busy from now 'til a little after then (except for a couple hours tonight).

[I'm hip to picking up after New Years.]

[ooc: Same here]

Terry looks across at Jamie as she responds... he's certain she misinterpreted somewhere but he wonders how.

"People jumping off bridges is more common than it should be and people helping them is far too rare, but... I'm not sure I should be having trouble saying this: language is supposed to be a tool of the journalist. I wasn't thinking freaky as in bearded lady kind of way... just, I don't know," he pauses "Unusual, yes, strange and different... but also somehow... otherworldly, unearthly... beyond my ken. Something I've never met before... that doesn't feel quite, well... mortal."

He turns as the men knock on the door to retrieve them,

"Maybe I'm just unhinged by the whole situation."

Jamie laughed, realising her mistake, as he explained his meaning. Her time in Whispering Voices made her forget the initial oddities she experienced when she first arrived. And her anger at her treatment clouding any thought she might have of the people around her. But allowing her thoughts a moment to replay everything, she understood what he was saying.

Before she could speak, the door was knocked, sending her again into defensive mode. She didn't like this being locked up and guarded, they had agreed to help after all. Not that attempting to run would have got them more than a bullet in their backs.

Smiling at Terry, she waited for whoever was outside to enter...

Alan stepped through the door, legs still a little wobbly from the subway trip. He reached into a pocket and raised his hands to his mouth before remembering that he didn't have any cigarettes anymore. Smiling weakly he clears his throat and turns to the two people waiting inside.

"Hi. I take it you're the people we're here to meet. Name's Alan."

Vilorius sidles in behind Alan, smiling blearily.

"G'day. The name's Vilorius, but I appreciate that that's a mouthful. Call me Vil."

Jamie watched as the visitors arrived, surprised to see that they were not from Voices, a puzzled expression casting a shadow over her face. She turned to Terry and shrugged slightly before returning her attention to the people standing before them, a smile now replacing the frown.

“Hello, Alan. Vil.” She presented her hand, and shook each of theirs as she greeted them. “I’m Jamie and this is Terry.” She indicated her companion. She then stood silently allowing him to make his introductions. Her eyes settling on the other people who had also entered the room.

A 4'8" petite female figure slid herself lithly through the small space between the door and Vilorius, he head peaking out first. "Err, sorry, did I hear introductions?" she asked in a deep Wazzuian accent, holding out her had. "I'm Dana."

She looked behind her to make sure she didn't crowd the doorway too.

A 4'8" petite female figure slid herself lithly through the small space between the door and Vilorius, he head peaking out first. "Err, sorry, did I hear introductions?" she asked in a deep Wazzuian accent, holding out her had. "I'm Dana."

She looked behind her to make sure she didn't crowd the doorway too.

[OOC: Can others still join this or is it closed?]

[OOC: Can others still join this or is this post closed?]

[Closed.]

Alan smiles at Dana, making sure that he's out of the doorway, "We were just getting started, actually. That's Terry, and she's Jamie, but we haven't gotten down to business yet, so no worries."

Vilorius sidles a little more to the side, idly measuring up Terry and Jamie in his mind. Distracted, he fingers a raised scar along one wrist.

As the two men move aside, Jamie gets her first glimpse of another member of the group. Her eyes resting for a moment as she looked over the woman before her, before taking in the others' appearance. She couldn't help wondering just what she had gotten herself involved in. Then remembering her manners she presented her hand and shook that of the third member of the party, no need for her introduction.

She turned to Terry, smiling slightly as she moved further into the room, before resuming her appraisal. The two men had an air of 'streetwise', the woman she couldn't define her yet. She continued to stand silent as she waited for the official business to start.

Terry leans against the wall as the new people enter. He listens with head cocked and smiles slightly as the introductions go out.

"So... we need to get out of the intoduction loop, I see. You three are Vil, Alan and Dana. I'm Terry and this is Jamie. She's the brains, I'm here for moral support. There, we're done introducing."

He leans back and grins.

"That being said, what brings you all here to the land of Voices? I'd guess that you aren't local from the accents."

"That, I think, is pretty obvious. We've all see the tape, yes?" Dana didn't think she would need to describe it as anything more then the tape. If they had seen it, they would know.

She looked around for nods and questioning looks.

Alan nodded, his mood turning much darker, "Yes... the tape. That's why we're here, at least. I assume that you two," he nods to Jamie and Terry, "are here for the same reason."

Terry winces at their blunt riposte and the darkening of the conversation. He crosses his arms and wonders just how honest they can be yet.

Sigh"Its not the video... its those creatures that appear in it. What they are doing to people and the fact that they seem to regard it as an everyday thing to do. The fact that they are still out there doing it."

He turns to look out the window. "If you needed me to tell you that that is wrong, you wouldn't be here."

Vil nods firmly.

"Of course. I'm sure we're all united in our opinions of these... events. So what do we do about them, as a group?"

Listening to the group in silence, Jamie absentmindedly played with the strap of her watch, wondering not for the first time, how she had managed to get herself in this mess. Moving her gaze between the faces of the others in the room, she looked for a sign that this wasn't some foolish trick, which someone was going to admit to any minute, but deep down she knew it wasn't that these people really meant what they were saying.

Her brows furrowed in thought, until she could hold back no longer. "And what exactly do you suggest we do?" She shook her head sadly. "Do you think we can just walk in there and ask them nicely not to do it any more? We are a few people, we are not an army. What difference are we going to make?"

She could feel her anger rising, mixing in with a sense of fear. This was a one way trip to death, possibly as a star of that horrendous show. She felt her courage disappear at the thought.

Alan nodded thoughtfully at Jamie's words, "True, true. I strongly doubt that we can just wander into 'the warp' or wherever these... things live and ask them to kindly stop torturing and slaughtering humans. I never thought that was our original intent anyway."

He sighs, "Furthermore, there's only a few of us, so we certainly aren't talking military action. I think we're looking at more... sneaky... tactics."

Jamie, despite her efforts to stop herself, laughed. Hearing her doubts repeated by another made her realise just how silly they sounded. It was obvious to even her that they would not be strolling in through the front door. For one, they would have to get up the garden path.

Looking at the others, she brought her laughter under control. She wished she could discover some hidden courage, but she knew that if she really thought about the situation, she was scared. She had watched the way some of those people had died, had woken up in the night having suffered the same fate in her dreams.

“I’m sorry.” She sighed heavily, smiling slightly to hide her embarrassment. “I’m having a little trouble getting my head around this.”

Terry bow his head and thinks as the others repeat the fears that he too has been having, pushing asside the flash of guilt for getting Jamie into this mess without a way out.

"Sneaky? I don't think we need to be sneaky... after all, we're not the ones doing wrong. They are being sneaky and the best way to fight it is to bring that out into the light of day..."

He falters, as if he might have spoken above himself, but continues for a few words more.

"and I think I might have an idea how."

A knocking at the oaken door - three sharp raps - interrupts Terry before he can speak. Outside, the pale glow of sunset still lingers over the small surface area of Hush: the vast majority of the city is deep below ground, but the above part - at least, it looks so from the window - is a ski resort. Since Whispering Voices generally tries to discourage tourists, the main users of the facilities are wealthy businessmen, or minor nobles: and it shows. Everything is quite, understated. The hotel - many stories high as it is, and braced to withstand the devastating storms - is made out of granite, thick and immutable. It is also made in an old style, externally and internally, with thick carpeting and insulating to keep the cold out.

Listening intently to Terry, it took a while for the knocks to register in Jamie’s mind, her eyes turning instantly to the door where the sound had come from. “Looks like we’re about to have more visitors.” She spoke to the room, before fixing her gaze on Terry’s face. “I guess we’re about to find out what they have planned for us.” She raised her eyebrows as she swung her attention back to the room’s entrance.

[Tag]

Still nearest the door, Dana took the cue. Her small figure dissappeared behind the others who had only recently entered. A draft (warm? cold? WV?) blew her semi-short hair as she opened the door widely, creating a porthole between the inquisitive faces in the room and what lay beyond....

As the chill wind rushes about the room, Terry shivvers and breaks off what he was about to say.

He sighs and looks to Jamie with a response of "I guess we are."

The newcomer shown by the opening of the door was a rather boisterous looking individual with a moustache, a loud checked shirt - sporting three different shades of yellow, it seemed - and greying red hair. Clutched under his left arm a leather-worked briefcase was hand-cuffed to his hand. Just behind him, the forms of security guards could be seen leaving.

"Ah ... hello," he offered, as he stepped through the door and shut it behind him. "I'm the foreign attache, and I've come to outline some of the plans we have."

He walked quickly towards a table surrounded by chairs and with a sigh of relief placed the briefcase on it. "I'm Marlon Engledon, from New Excrucior," he called out behind him as he reached into a pocket and drew out a keyfob.

The case was soon opened, and he turned round, beaming at them.

"Please take seats, lady and gentlemen, and I'll explain just what we have."

Watching silently, Jamie did not take her eyes from the new arrival, his appearance making her stare more than was polite, but even though she tried to pull her gaze away, it was transfixed. As the man sat, Jamie took a moment to look at the others in the room to gauge their reaction, lingering slightly longer on Terry as she raised her eyebrows.

Following the man’s instructions, Jamie took an available seat, and sat waiting to hear what exactly these people had planned for them. She couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever this man was going to impart, it was not going to be good news. Clutching her hands in her lap, she sighed wondering when life was going to deal her a good card.

Terry was far less phased by the man's demeanor of showmanship. Taking the antics in his stride he moves to take te seat next to Jamie. He leans over briefly and whispers... "If he pulls a potato out of that case, I'm walking out." in an attempt to restore her good humour.

As it became apparant the guards would not be joining them, Dana moved to close the door behind the attache, only to hve Marlon Engledon beat her to it and enter the room proper. A quirky little half smile crossed her lips as the man made his introduction and set the briefcase on the table.

Now this is a side of WV I haven't yet seen. I wonder if he picked up his clothing and demenor in other nations. she thought while taking a seat. Wherever he got them, this should prove interesting.

But Dana said nothing aloud. She simply sat quietly and contently waiting for the man to continue.