AN: Well, hello again. I haven't really been around for a while, let alone with a multi-chapter thing, so trying to keep this regularly updated might not be altogether sucessful. Still, here goes...
A man sat at the control panel. Actually, it might have been more suitably named as a control room, since the panels spanned the walls, and a small part of the ceiling. It was covered with buttons, switches, and boards of every imaginable colour and size, but only very few had writing. The mainframe was in a very small room, which had (possibly in compensation for the size) an enormous window. This window was used to see into the enormous room below, which contained a huge metal machine. The man tapped the 'enter' button twice, his face a mask of concentration. A sickly metallic voice filled the dimly lit chamber.
"System activated. Phase one commencing." A series of bleeps followed. The man at the control desk listened carefully, his face a mask of concentration. Having checked the preliminary safety precautions, he nodded to the yes-thing at his side, without taking his eyes away from the window. The yes-thing left, and appeared through the door to the larger room, approaching the metal device. The man pressed several buttons, and nodded to the yes-thing, who stepped through a small door in the side of the machine. The man flicked the switch in the center of the desk, and slipped on a pair of black sunglasses, as a flash of brilliant white light filled the room, and a yell of pain reverberated around the chamber. Out of the other side of the machine stepped a young child, wearing the same clothing the yes-thing had been wearing. Commander Khashoggi gave a small smirk, and spoke into his pager.
"Ma'am."
"Commander, this better be good. I'm in the middle of-"
"Experiment successful."
Many years had passed. It would not have been unfair to say that since the last scene, Khashoggi's life had gone downhill faster than you could say, "another one bites the dust". He had been fired, though it soon became common gossip amongst the Globalsoft employees that he'd been sympathetic towards the bohemians. It wasn't true, of course, but that fact, when added to the fact that the Globalsoft cooperation used security quite religiously enough to need a head of it, made getting a job that required the skills he had very difficult. Of course, he had to eat. And food required money, which in turn required a job. And so Andrei Khashoggi put on his sunglasses, took a deep breath, and knocked three times on the door of the new Heartbreak Hotel.
A girl around a foot shorter than him opened the door, irritably pushing her hair out of her eyes. Short, wavy, purple hair. Inwardly he cursed, but regarded her carefully, his face expressionless. She looked him up and down, and her sharp features rearranged themselves into recognition.
"Fancy seeing you here, pig."
He decided mockery would be impudent, and settled for sarcasm.
"Does everyone get this charming welcome, or should I feel honoured?"
She scowled, and was about to make a snappy reply when the Dreamer appeared in the doorway behind her. Galileo, as his Bad Arsed Babe had done, looked Khashoggi up and down, and tilted his head thoughtfully.
"You need somewhere to stay." It was a statement, not a question. Carefully avoiding Scaramouche's ferocious glare, Khashoggi nodded. Galileo gave him a quick grin. "Well, it's not charity…"
"Thank god for that."
"But yeah, you can have a room here if you want. We're still connected to the old tube network-"
"According to that old git." Scaramouche muttered, from behind the Dreamer.
" – She means Pop." Galileo interjected unnecessarily, and continued as if the interruption had gone unnoticed. "So, we're still connected to the tube network, so we have way more space then just the house – most of the old bohos are still here – Macca and Mads and Lotte and that, and we can cook in the house, and we've got the recording studios in the house too, cause we can get electricity way more easily as well…" Scaramouche gave him a diplomatic nudge in the ribs, and he broke off, giving a bashful smile. "I'm rambling, sorry." Khashoggi looked amused. "And, um, the others might take a bit of… getting used to you, but I'll ask then to go easy on you," he rubbed the back of his head with his hand, possibly seeing the irony of telling the man who had arrested the people he was about to move in with to "go easy" on him. Khashoggi, ignoring the remark, and Scaramouche's snort of amusement that followed it, inclined his head, inwardly mildly shocked at the boy's generosity, and hugely thankful for it.
To give the Dreamer credit, it had been much less painful than he had expected – although Scaramouche provided the occasional snarky remark (often accompanied by a dig in the ribs with a sharp elbow) when she thought he was getting too complacent.
Once he had been in residence for several weeks, however, he was beginning to get used to it, and consequently became slightly more comfortable in his surroundings. The changes were subtle; but noticeable to those who were sober enough. The kitchen began to look cleaner, the dishes were done with rather more regularity, and meetings began to start within ten minutes of the time they'd arranged. His room was beginning to feel more like home, although he still missed the luxury of fresh coffee in the mornings – and a dishwasher. Manual dish-washing still felt like something of a novelty to him. Apart from that, he felt he was adjusting well to his new predicament.
He didn't see a large number of Bohemians on a day-to-day basis, as he spent most of his time between meals working (thankfully, Scaramouche wasn't usually as irritable as she had been at his arrival – at the office, they even managed some humour.)
There was one bohemian he'd been dreading seeing, but he supposed that she must spend most of her time in the tunnels. He had, after all, only seen her for brief flashes of time, as she collected her meals and did as many of the others did, taking her food back to her room.
Unfortunately, not much longer after his second month at the Heartbreak, he did see her, under entirely unexpected and unforeseen circumstances.
And afterwards, they wondered if they'd ever have got to know one another any other way.
