(A/N: Welcome to Push Back, a fanfiction version of a Push RPG, which you can find on Livejournal under the very creative community name pushrpg. As such, this story is a collaborative effort, and 1angelette did not write it all by any means. I think you can attribute about 1000 of the first 20,000 words to me. That isn't very much. To find the other authors of this story and credit them, please visit the aforementioned community. There are many of us. None of us own Push to my knowledge, unless one of the directors or whatnot joined our RPG under a false name, but the original characters belong to the respective players who made them, which you can find by looking at the pushrpg community. Okay, that's enough. Off to DAY ONE!)
------
Cassie
could feel the penetrating wet cold of London, even through the heavy
black jacket that covered her frame. It was a miserable day, even for
this boggy country, and the normally bustling square was all but
empty. Cassie sat outside one of the small cafes, taking an
ocacssional sip of her coffee as she waited for the visions to come
to her. She'd had one early that morning of that square, and of
someone she could meet there. She hoped it was Nick - who had been
gone for nearly a month - but she had not seen their face.
Draining
the last of her drink, she dropped some money on the table and
scanned the square for anyone who looked like they might be the
person in her vision...
This
was turning out to be the dumbest thing Drake had ever signed up for.
He had thought that being an exchange student to the UK would be more
fun than going to Germany or France, but jeeze, these people were
just as boring as the country he was from. His exchange family were
all retards, and he hadn't seen another psychic for miles around.
So... he might as well go find a girl he can Push into being his
'entertainment' for the night.
Drake was clad in his black,
thigh-length coat, with a gray undershirt, crossed over by a
metal-studded belt in the typical American fashion. His pants were
gray camo cargo-jeans, with black-and-white checkered Vans peeking
out from beneath the large, parachute-like cargos.
Drake took a
drag on his cigarette, exhaling the smoke through his lips. Sure, it
was a bad habit... but the stress Division has been putting him under
was enough to make him resort to nicotine to help him take the edge
off. They didn't bother him in person, but they were investigating
him through his friends at school; hence, he became an exchange
student. Even Division would have trouble operating in the United
Kingdom. Extradition treaty or not, good luck getting a Pusher to go
back to America!
And then, he saw the girl. His green eyes looked
at her... frail figure, but still. And the color in her hair...
scene-ish, but nonetheless attractive. Turning his gaze away as to
not be too forward, he ground his Marlboro 100 into the ashtray, and
relaxed, the smoke calming him.
Kira
was wandering, a thing she did out of habit. Running away had done
that to her, made her unaware of things she normally did. She looked
around, an old habit never dropped, and saw Cassie standing by
herself. Yeah, Cassie didn't like her much, but it wasn't all that
nice to stand by herself. She walked over to her younger friend.
"Hey
Cassie, why the sad face?"
Feeling
eyes upon her, Cassie looked up to see a very...suspicious boy eyeing
her. She knew she drew attention to herself - male attention was
nothing new to her - but something in the way he looked at her made
her skin crawl. Grabbing her bag at her feet, she instinctively
reached for the pepper spray Nick insisted she keep in her
pocket.
Glancing up for a moment at the strange young man, she
stepped around the small gate surrounding the cafe and out onto the
cobblestone walkway. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Kira and
smiled. She may not always be her favorite person, but anything was
better than
dark-boy-who-kinda-creeped-her-out-but-also-interested-her.
"Hey,
Kira." Cassie replied "I'm fine, it's just...that guy over
there. There's something about him."
Drake
overheard. Aww, damn it, she saw him. Oh well. Maybe now it would be
best to direct his attention elsewhere.
Drake opened the American
newspaper he had been reading earlier. In it, they were talking about
the recent conservative group that had been bashing psychics...
nothing new there. Someone was always hating on them, perhaps out of
jealousy, or out of fear. Turning the page, Drake saw another article
talking about the new president. Again, nothing new... everyone
seemed to like Barack Obama. Of course, what was he doing for the
psychics? Nothing.
Drake lit up another cigarette, and continued
to read through the paper. He thought he had heard the two women
talking about him, but it was best to ignore them. He had blown his
cover.
Cassie only half-listened to Kira, her attention still on the mysterious boy. As she let her thoughts seriously focus, she felt the familiar prickling that signaled an oncoming vision, throwing her hands up to shield her eyes, she turned herself so Kira was blocking her from the view of the street, hoping no one would see her.
Drake
was going to go over there and hit on her, but the impression he
got... no. Why not Push her, he thought? But then again, he had
promised his exchange sister he wouldn't use his powers for
depravity, and only for things like getting into movies for free,
free meals, and what have you.
She was a nice girl. Very
beautiful; in fact, she looked a lot like the girl he was just
considering Pushing. They had flirted on occasion, only playfully of
course... and somehow, she knew he was a Pusher, so she would catch
him if he tried screwing with her mind. Shame it wasn't that easy.
In
fact, she was the only psychic he knew here. Both of her parents
weren't, but Drake was sure that they appreciated him tricking the
car dealer into giving them a 2009 model for a near-criminally cheap
price. Heh... quid pro quo, of course.
Cassie
hated confusing visions, and this was one of worst she'd had in a
while. The images flashed wildly across her vision. Some included the
boy, some didn't, but she knew they were all tied together and they
were all centered around him.
The vision ended and slowly her
sight began to clear. The familiar pain of the migraines she got
during particularly strong visions was beginning to form and she
inwardly groaned. Leaning around Kira, she scanned the small crowd
for the boy but found him turning away.
Drake
stood up. It was getting to be around lunch time, and the last time
he ate was around eight this morning. Drake turned and walked past a
few chattering teen girls, and into a Burger King. He didn't have
money, of course, but who needs money when you're a Pusher?
The
line was, thankfully, short. Drake approached the cashier, and his
pupils spread through his entire eyes. "I'd
like a Chicken Tendercrisp meal, no lettuce, large fries. I've
already paid you."
With his command, the cashier nodded, and smiled. Drake would receive
his food in two minutes, and sit down, with the hanging television
going over today's news. More Iraq bullshit, more terrorists...
another day, another round of redundant bad news.
Now
that Cassie wasn't completely focused, she only caught bits and
pieces of her vision as she tried to track him. Finally, she saw the
glowing sign of Burger King and slipped through the nearby alley that
would take her there faster.
Stepping into the tiny fast food
restaurant, she scanned the tables for him. Finding him near the
back, she slipped past the line and over to the eating area. Now in
front of him, she reached over and plucked a French fry from his
table.
"Hi," she said cheerily.
He
was just taking a bite out of his sandwich when the girl approached
him. He barely noticed she took one of his fries as his attention was
torn away from the TV. The same girl from before... he didn't
remember pushing her into following him. What did she want,
especially when she looked creeped out earlier?
"Umm... hi."
he said rather shyly, taking one of his own fries, and dipping it
into the little ketchup cup he had taken before sitting down.
"I'm
Cassie," she replied, sitting down in the seat across from him
as she nibbled on the pilfered fry. He was a fairly good-looking guy
- dark and kind of sinister in a fairly attractive way. But, her
heart had belonged to Nick since that day he had Moved her out of the
fish market to save her from the Pop Boys and she doubted that was
going to change any time soon.
Pushing away thoughts of Nick, she
smirked and the boy and finished off the rest of the fry before
adding. "And you're a Pusher."
He stopped eating as soon as she mentioned what he was. How did she know!? As he swallowed the bit of sandwich he had in his mouth, he wiped his mouth off with a napkin, and glared. "You're with Division, aren't you." he asked as a statement, his green eyes narrowing.
Cassie
instinctively rolled her eyes and flipped her multi-colored hair over
her shoulder.
"Do I look like I'm with Division?" she
asked as she stole another fry. "Believe me, the last thing I'm
with is Division. Have you ever heard of the Rogues?" she asked,
sincerely hoping her vision hadn't been wrong and he wouldn't push
her to run into traffic the second he found out who she was.
Drake
sighed as she answered. "You'd be surprised. This wouldn't have
been the first time Division tried to get a young girl to spy on me."
And then, she mentioned the Rogues. This piqued his interest.
"So,
you're the people that stole the Drug?" His eyebrows raised.
"Didn't think I'd run into you guys here, though I've heard
rumors you guys left the States."
"We
move around, keeps Division on their toes." she replied, trying
to give him as little information as possible while still keeping his
interest. You never knew how far you could trust someone, even when
you could see the future.
"So, do you have a name? Or should
I just continue to call you Dark Pusher Boy?"
"As funny as that name is... call me Drake." He took a sip of his Coke, and looked over Cassie's shoulder. The other woman wasn't with her, oddly enough. "And who are you?"
"Cassie
Holmes," she replied, thankful he wasn't running off or
screaming for Division - as some of the psychics she had met had
done. While no one really liked Division, for some the idea of a
rebellion was ludicrous and dangerous thinking.
"So, what
brings an American Pusher to London?"
"Division,
actually. They're looking into my friends to try to get information
on me, since I was rather... uncooperative with their 'messenger' the
last time they tried to talk to me."
He sighed, and
continued. "I'm an exchange student. I signed up for learning
abroad when I found out that home wasn't safe. Not that I'm afraid of
them, I mean... I just don't like having people over my shoulder
constantly."
"Try
having them in front of you, with a gun in your face." Cassie
replied, her thoughts drifting to their last run-in with Division two
months ago. They'd lost two good people - one to a Mover who had sent
them over a bridge, and another who'd been captured (thankfully, not
before they could be Wiped).
"You know, it might be easier to
stay off Division's radar if you had some friends."
Drake
shook his head. "No. I'm sorry, I can't help you guys... at
least, not without my exchange sister." He couldn't help them.
He was here as a student, not to fight some kind of war. "I'll
help you if she does, though. She's... kinda important to me."
He
sighed, and finished his drink before eating the last bite of his
sandwich. For a free meal, this wasn't bad. Who cares about
calories... he had a very good metabolism. He'd probably burn them
off just by walking to the subway station to go home.
"You'll
have to talk to her. She won't be hard to miss... she says she's a
psychic too, but she hasn't used any of her powers around me, so I
have absolutely no idea what kind she is... assuming she is one at
all."
------
Taylor
pulled her jacket off as she stepped into the small diner that was
Divino's. She had discovered it when she had first left home 8 years
ago. It was a warm, cozy place and she was a frequent customer since
she moved back to London last year.
Settling into her usual table
in the back, she pulled out her blackberry and began to run through
her e-mails and messages while she waited for Jason. Jason was
probably the closest thing she had to a real friend. While he was
undeniably cocky and selfish, he was an alright guy once you got to
know him - if he let you.
Jason's
eyes quickly scanned across the diner, the dark orbs coming to rest
on the brunette sitting at 'their table' in the back. The jacket
around his shoulders lost its form, returning to the newspaper that
Jason had snatched up to cover himself with when he'd left his
apartment. No one seemed to notice, but that wasn't something he
worried about.
He slowly manuevered his way between the tables and
chairs, sliding into the seat opposite his 'friend'. The word didn't
seem to totally fit their relationship, but it was the closest thing
he could think of.
Forgoing the pleasantries he grasped the menu,
staring down at the multi-colored print. "So, what looks good
today?"
"Ay,
well you're a really friendly one yeah?" she replied, rolling
her eyes. One thing Jason definitely lacked was manners.
"Hello
Taylor, how are you? Oh, I'm fine thanks," she continued to
tease, levitating the menu a few inches absentmindedly. She was less
obvious than shifting a jacket from a newspaper in the middle of a
restaurant.
A
small smirk graced Jason's lips as he continued where she left off,
"Enjoying the weather? 'Oh no it's just awful, got my brand new
jacket wet and everything.' Sounds pretty bad. 'Oh it is, this one
was a gift from my mother.' So have you ordered yet? 'Nope, was
waiting for you to get here, like always.' Ah alright, so..."
His eyes locked with hers, the amusement obvious there, "What
looks good today?"
The smile remained on his face as he
leaned forward, giving her a quick hug. "It's good to see you
too, Taylor."
Taylor
playfully pushed him off and rolled her eyes again.
"Mary
said to try the shepherd's pie," she replied, referring to their
usual waitress. "It was never my favorite but it is alright
here. So, how have you been? I haven't seen you for a while."
Shepherd's
pie didn't really sound appetizing at all, and Jason made a mental
note to chastise Mary about such a suggestion when she came to take
their orders. His eyes scanned the menu quick, before deciding that a
turkey sandwich sounded like a much better choice.
"Well, you
know me." Jason's eyes came back up to meet Taylor's, his face
losing a little of its previous amusement as he gave a slight shrug,
"Staying out of trouble, doing a little work on the side,
whatever it takes to get me by." This of course was one of the
lies that both he and Taylor knew very well. Jason hadn't worked a
day in his life since he figured out how to shift paper into money;
but this wasn't something he liked admitting.
"What about
you?" Switching the subject away from his recent exploits seemed
like the best option; mostly cause he found it really boring. "Saved
any new psychics lately? Prevented any ne'er-do-well's from wrecking
your plans?"
"It's actually been pretty quiet on the Division front lately." she replied, pausing to take a sip of the water Mary had brought her earlier. "It makes me nervous, actually. Have you heard anything? Are they planning something? Watching anyone in particular?" No matter how hard she tried, Taylor could never fully leave her 'Rogue-mode' as everyone liked to call it.
The
smile strengthened again as Jason laughed softly. "All I know is
they aren't watching me, or the useless reformed rocks that keep
showing up in pawnshops all over this town. And that's the part I
care about." He reached in his pocket, pulling out a strip of
tree bark that instantly shifted into brand new Rolex. He clasped it
onto his wrist, checking the clock on the wall as he set it. "Never
really did understand the attraction to these watches, felt they were
just a little bit too gaudy."
His eyes caught hers for a
second, a mischievous flicker lighting his eyes. Then his attention
moved around the diner, silent searching for Mary. "Let's see,
I've been here for almost a minute now, so Mary should be showing up
any second now."
"You
know, one day those 'useless rocks' are going to shift back before
you can get out of the store and then what will you do?" she
replied, smiling despite herself. Damn
charming jerk,
she thought inwardly.
She was about to tease him about having a
crush on 70-year-old Mary but before she could do that the sweet old
lady showed up, Jason's usual drink already in her hands.
"Hello,
Jason dear. How are you?" she said as she set down the glass and
pulled out her order pad. "What can I get for you?"
"I
suppose then I'd blame it on someone else, and if that didn't work,
I'd run like hell." He laughed, turning his attention to Mary as
she appeared over them. "Ah well aren't you always a sight for
sore eyes." He grinned, taking her hand and giving it a light
kiss. "Mary, when are you going to stop denying that we have an
undeniable bond; and that we should run away to Paris together?"
Mary
just laughed, her age almost disappearing for a moment as merriment
filled her eyes. "About the same time that you get your butt
back from cloud nine and tell me what you're ordering today."
Jason
gave a look of mock hurt, before laughing as well. "Well I heard
the Shepherds pie is good," He glanced over at Taylor, sticking
out his tongue in fake disgust, "but that just doesn't seem like
me today. So... I'm thinking a Turkey Sandwich on Rye." He
folded his menu, handing it to Mary as she finished writing down his
order. "And I think my good friend here is on a diet of some
sort, so what do you got that's low in self-importance?" He
stuck out his tongue again, this time teasingly, the laughter almost
breaking past the half-serious look he was trying desperately to
maintain.
Taylor
resisted the urge to hit Jason with the menu in her hand, and turned
to face Mary with a smile.
"Mary, can I have the chef salad
with Italian dressing?" Mary nodded, took the menus, and left
Taylor the only object of Jason's attention. Great,
she couldn't help but think.
"Like you're one to talk about
others with self-importance issues?" she shot at him, smirking
and twirling the straw in her glass. "At least I'm
self-important because I'm trying to 'save the world.'"
"Oh
please, everyone is trying to save the world these days," Jason
smirked, leaning as far back in his seat as the snug chairs would
allow. "Seen those green peace guys, marching up and down the
streets with their signs talking about how the polution is ruining
our world. HA! Like the world is really going to end because of a few
toxic gases that we release from our factories.
"And then
there's the anti-war guys running around everywhere. 'End the war in
the middle east', 'No involvement is the key to victory'... What a
load of crap." He shrugged, waving his hand dismissively,
"Personally I think if these people are so stupid as to believe
that blowing each other up is going to make their god happy, then I
say, let 'em."
Suddenly realizing he was rambling a little,
he relaxed in his chair, leaning back towards Taylor. "But that
is neither here nor there. So, tell me, still think that you'll be
able
to save the world from people with greater numbers and greater
resources?" The carefree smirk still covered his face, proving
that he was just trying to goad Taylor into arguing about.
"People
have done more with far less resources than us." Taylor replied,
playfully levitating the salt shaker to prove her point.
"Of
course, if we had a few more talented Shifters on our side, it could
definitely help." she added. Taylor knew it was a useless
gesture, Jason Kale only had one concern in life - Jason Kale.
"It
may be slow going, but we'll get there one day and that's all that
matters. As for those other people, at least they believe in
something. What do you believe in Jason?"
"Well
when you find some more Shifters let me know, and I'll be sure to
tell them that their abilities suck compared to mine." He
smirked, picking up his glass and taking a long drink. As if to prove
his point, his glass changed shapes a couple times (a glass bird, a
baby bottle, a test tube) before returning to its normal
shape.
Returning it to the table, he added, "And there are a
lot of things I believe in. I believe gravity will always draw me
towards the ground. I believe that a stiff wind will always send a
chill down my spine. I believe that anything stabbed, shot, or
projected through my heart will be incredibly painful, and the last
thoughts I have after that will be 'I wish I had just stayed in bed
today'.
"But with all of that, none of those things make me
change my day-to-day life." He shrugged, reaching across the
table to brush a stray hair out of Taylor's face, "And it's just
my opinion that everyone who's risking theirs is just sorta kinda
wasting their time."
"It's nice to think that you believe I'm wasting my life on a fool's crusade." Taylor replied, frowning slightly before shrugging. "But you're not the first and you probably won't be the last. You certainly have a pessimistic view of the world though. I mean, there are good things. Like shepherd's pie," she joked.
Jason's
expression softened visibly at Taylor's words, a look of regret
filling his eyes; like usual he'd gone and stumbled over his tongue.
A soft sigh escaped his lips, as he said, "If someday there
truly is a better world for all of us psychics, where we can live in
peace without having to look over our shoulder for Division men
following us, then I'll be the first one there, helping them build a
monument to your work.
"No matter what it is that you do,
it's not a fool's crusade as long as you are putting all of yourself
into it. And this is one of those things, Taylor." He awkwardly
maneuvered himself into a position that he could lean across the
table and give her a soft kiss on the cheek. "You don't need me
to tell you how awesome what you're doing really is."
He
returned to his seat, a brief second passing before the smirk was
back on his lips, and the bemused sparkle back in his eye. "Still
doesn't mean I'm crazy enough to tag along for that ride, just
letting you know before you bother to ask."
"Ohhhh,
believe me, I know," she replied, the smile back on her face. "I
know better than to keep barking up that tree. And I can just imagine
you chiseling away to create a monument to me." she joked,
looking off as if daydreaming about her statue. "I really am
deserving of it, of course."
A moment later their food
arrived and the table fell into a comfortable silence as they ate.
Taylor watched Jason from under her eyelashes. He was a truly
interesting person to be around - so contradictory when he could
claim to not care about anything but himself but still seem to care
about her well-being. Maybe he was more of a good guy than he
thought.
------
Jamethestitch writes:
'Lo ladies, gents, and whoever else is reading this. This is James writing, just giving you the heads up on a few things. The most important thing is that my powers have developed into something pretty fan-freaking-tastic. I can raise the dead. Oh yeah. That includes that blonde Division lackie I found among the dead Chinese mafia, Victor I think his name is. I'm posting this on the run at the moment, hope to keep you updated soon.
Nick-justnick comments:
Hey, James. I've heard of you through this Scottish guy everybody thought was dead. He came back, and the next day you skipped town. I don't think that's a coincidence. How about we meet at the Red Horse Tavern and talk things out?
Jamethestitch comments:
Depends on the day and I hope that you don't mind company. I'm willing to talk, you'll just have to give me a little heads up on the when and where.
Nick-justnick comments:
Maybe about 1 in the afternoon, day after tomorrow? Red Horse Tavern like I said. It's in Piccadilly Square.
Jamesthestich comments:
Can we push it (no pun intended) to six?
Nick-justnick comments:
You're pretty funny, James. Sure, I've got time. Six it is. See you there.
Jamethestitch comments:
Assuming nothing happens. The head of UK Division is in the neighborhood so watch out.
-------
Nick-justnick writes:
Hi. I'm Nick Gant, as you all probably know. 'Cause you're probably my friends, or you're creepy stalkers from Division. If you're a creepy stalker from Division, leave now. I've been looking for some good psychics in Scotland. We still haven't found out how powerful the British division is -- there hasn't been much trouble for us in England, but maybe the Brits are just sneakier. Right now, I have this odd happy feeling about having given Cassie pepper spray.
Kirapushes comments:
Yeah, creepy guy following her... not good. Hi Nick!
Nick-justnick comments:
Kira! You've got a journal too! A creepy guy is following Cassie? That's really bad. Maybe I should get over there...
Anonymous comments:
Safety
comes not from the weapons we wield, but the purpose that we divine
for ourselves. I would say that you have not escaped your worry for
Cassie by just arming her with such a paltry weapon, since you still
think about protecting her.
The divisions of the old world are
much more careful about revealing themselves than those of the
Americas and the countries who are entirely new to this scene. They
have waited centuries to gather us as their army, they are not going
to be hasty now in their retrieval of these forces. When we are
settled, and convinced that we have escaped their eyes, that is when
they will swoop down upon us like a locust, and devour the peace that
we have so quickly welcomed.
Nick-justnick comments:
Um,
yeah, I'm still worrying about Cassie. That's why I gave her the
pepper spray in the first place. Duh.
Thanks for those nifty
division tips, although I thought all us psychics came about through
experiments in World War II, which would make it pretty hard for the
Europeans to be trying to get us for "centuries". It's hard
to be a settled psychic anyway. Many of us are always on the run.
Anonymous comments:
But
if you still worry for Cassie's safety, then the gift of Pepper Spray
you gave her has done nothing to alleviate your fears. I would just
question why you would give her this, and then not trust it to do the
job you wanted from it.
It is true that we were experimented on
during WW2, but no one knows how all of us actually came to exist.
Some believe that we were
created during those experiments; though I have a hard time believing
that Nazi scientists, in the middle of a war, somehow unraveled some
secret of our DNA that modern scientists can't even fathom.
I
prefer to believe that we have existed for much longer than that,
that we are the fabled heroes of stories long long ago. We are the
wizards, magicians, oracles, and gods that have led humanity for such
a long time.
Nick-justnick comments:
The
theory is that the pepper spray will help. It's a weapon. Having a
sword won't get rid of a monster, you know? Pepper spray doesn't stop
creepy guys from hitting on Cassie in the first place.
That's an
interesting theory. It would make a lot of sense.
Your whole
"anonymous" thing is kind of worrying me. How do I know
you're not with Division?
Anonymous comments:
You
don't know that I'm not with Division. For all you know you could
have just alerted me to the fact that your friend Cassie is protected
by nothing more than pepper spray (which means she's obviously not
one of the psychics who could protect themselves with other
abilities, so I'd guess... Sniffer? Watcher? Shadow?). You also would
have told me that you've been doing work in Scotland and are now
returning to England. And you've also informed me that you are
unaware of the UK's division movements, which means that if I do have
you under surveillance, I know that you haven't a clue it's
happening. Also your numbers are small, since you believe that three
more psychics is a big deal.
However, if I was working for
Division, I most likely wouldn't have responded to this post at all,
in case you have a computer wiz hanging around that could track me. I
also wouldn't have referred to myself in association with you when I
said, "When we
are all settled..." But you just never know.
I would suggest
a bit more discretion on your part when making public comments in an
internet forum. Maybe someday we'll meet, Nick
Grant, and then I can let you know in person
just how foolish it is to be so open with so much information.
Nick-justnick comments:
Nick
Gant. No R. If you were from Division, you wouldn't have gotten that
wrong. As far as I know, Division takes the whole psychics-from-WWII
thing as gospel, which makes you being one of their agents
unlikely... or else European Divisions are even weirder than I
thought.
Besides, a good Division agent wouldn't say something
that would make me think you were with Division. If you hadn't just
said that, you could probably have gotten me to admit what Cassie's
gift was by now. If that's even her name.
Anonymous comments:
Unless
of course I was the first actually intelligent agent you've ever
encountered. How would it be in my best interest to act exactly as
you would expect me to? There is far much more to be gained by
slipping in under my enemies radar, and just blending into the crowd.
The more one stands out, the easier they are to avoid.
And as I
pointed out before, you once again proved just how naive you are to
the actions of the UK's Division. For all you know they could have
had Division around for a couple centuries; they could've been the
original Knights of King Arthur's Realm. Maybe Merlin was the first
Psychic that joined their ranks.
But for all you know, I might be
some random bloke off the street that you've run into a hundred
times; and you've just never taken notice of me.
Jamethestitch comments:
Hey,
Nick, James from the general area of Britain. You know that meeting
we have planned? It might not be able to happen for a couple days.
I've hit a roadblock and I don't know when it will be resolved. Feel
free to drop a note or something. -James
PS: Help would be great,
two Movers would be fantastic against the roadblock
Nick-justnick comments:
Wow, that's a real bummer. Let me know where you'll be and I'll probably come help out.
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Pusher-addict writes:
…Huh. An internet channel full of psychics. At least this doesn't look like a trap by division… or a dating site.
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Shadow-ali writes:
I just finished trailing a bunch of anti-Division preppie college kids. I'm not complaining, but I'd enjoy the money a lot more if I could actually spend it on myself. But most of it goes to traveling to other cities where I'm needed. Like now, I'm in London. A Bostonian like me in London. If my ma could see me now she'd laugh. Maybe also cry at the life I lead, but that's neither here nor there. It's still sorta raining, but I'm too tired to go out for a bite. Good thing I'm in a hotel, they gotta have some sort of room service here with something decent.
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