Untitled Document "Tarot Card Reading, 3 creds," Mike Ashton soundlessly mouthed. Downtown New Orleans was the pit of sin. Think of Mardi Gras back in the TwenCen happening every day. Beads flew from balconies, liquor ran like water, and anyone could find companionship for the night. The Big Easy ran the cutting edge of technology, fusing it into the ancient infrastructure to create a city like none other in the NorAm. Merging the two dogmas into one, anyone could find anything here, no matter how ludicrous. However, the darker corners of New Orleans still housed the ghouls. The supernatural element had never left New Orleans during its technological boom. No, they just found new places to hide. Like in plain sight. Mike pushed the door open effortlessly, a worn bell chiming to announce his entrance. Slightly beaten and tired, Mike's shoulders sank as he moved across the foyer, taking a city at one of the many empty chairs. Mike's stoic nature was screaming at him, 'What are you doing here? You don't believe in this hocus pocus bullshit! Get up, man!!' The voice fell on deaf ears. Something felt right to Mike while he sat here, waiting his turn. Something told him he needed to be here. Aston's eyes wondered around the room, noting the different 'artifacts' on display for the tourists that found themselves here. Mike looked on as the beaded curtain separating this room from next waved in the light breeze from the ac unit overhead. More fake images and trinkets adorned the walls and shelves of the waiting area. 'More reasons I shouldn't be sitting here.' Yet Mike continued to sit, staring at the room as if he was destined to be here. "Mr. Ashton, please come in and take a seat," a feminine voice said from beyond the beaded barrier. Perhaps he was destined to be here, Mike thought as he stood.

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BLUE DEVIL:DCF Limited Series #1
"Cha-Cha-Changes"
Written by: Alex 'BioHaz' Cook
Edited by: Jason Tippitt

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Continuity notes: You need to have read 'POX', and the first Blue Devil One-shot to make any sense of this. 10010011 00110010 01010101 A jade needle perched above creamy white flesh, the delicate bone structure of her neck noticeable. Wisps of brown hair fell over the exposed neck. The needle dripped black ink from its sharp end as it came closer to the flesh. 'I will be flesh,' an ancient voice thought, the female lying on her stomach hearing the voice in her head. Glyphs of Japanese adorned the room the girl lay in. The needle hovered above the women's neck of its own accord, nothing holding it in the air. It raised, then arched downward, deep into the girl's flesh. A gasp of surprise and pain came from her tightly closed lips. "And I will be your servant," the women said in a pain-filled voice as a circle with glyphs around it began to take shape on her skin, the ink traveling of its own accord. 10010011 00110010 01010101 "Change. I see great change." The woman in front of Mike sat on top her chair with a grace and ease not many could pull off. She effortlessly dealt out the Tarot cards, quickly starting with a three-card reading. Her long fingers flipped over the Ace of Wands first, pausing before turning the next two over in rapid succession. The Magician followed the Ace, and finally the 2 of Cups fell to the table. "Yes, I was right. Your life has experienced a great change. A change you do not understand." Her huge doe-like blue eyes looked up at Mike's worn face, as if he was about to provide her with more information. Mike sat still, his face as unreadable as ever. His mind was a whirl. That was the way Mike worked his psyche, a flurry of activity while his body stayed passive. An introvert by nature, Mike enjoyed analyzing things, calculating the outcomes, spending time exercising his mind. Emotions weren't an area he had much experience in, for the simple reason that they didn't interest him. No painful childhood or anything; he had decided long ago that logic could lead to a better outcome over emotion. That was a law he lived his life by to this day. And here he sat, having his fortune told, which by all definitions defies logic. Then the calculating mind started wandering, thinking back. Back to the visions. Back to the night a week ago when the face that looked back at him form the mirror was not his own. Back when everything had changed. "Something new has happened in your life. A new relationship, one that is leading to personal growth for you. I see that this change will bring about conflict, but the Magician card here," which she pointed to as she talked, "shows you should be able to overcome it." Mike glanced down at the cards, thinking of the meanings behind the fortuneteller's words. "All you can tell me is something has changed?" Mike finally asked. 10010011 00110010 01010101 "Yes, change. As in, change position now or else you're going to set off the fucking alarm, Helena!" Donut screamed into the mike. Helena was pushing it again, as she always did, he added. "Don't get your panties in a bunch, Donut; I've almost got the interface," Manhunter whispered into the microphone connecting her to Donut. Donut watched as the heat imaging software rendered the image of Helena extending her leg over a thigh high laser beam as she reached for the glass case just beyond it. 'The wonders of technology,' Donut thought as his blind eyes 'watched' Helena crack open the casing. "Why am I stealing this again?" Helena asked in mid-swipe, her body still juxtaposed above the array of alarm lasers. She continued to cut an entryway into the case as Donut sighed. "The Concord ONYX VR Interface is as top-of-the-line as it gets right now. I aim to make it better, for a nice profit," Donut said. "Which I've told you three times now." As Helena pulled the Onyx Interface from its holding cell, she smirked, "And what's my cut again?" "Cut? Chalk this up in the favor category, luv. Think of us as even for all those years of me watching your ass," Donut answered. "Gee... In that case, I guess I'll just--" 10010011 00110010 01010101 "Proceed as planned." The communication was short and sweet. It left the three gathered in the private cyperscape unfulfilled. The answers they sought were nowhere to be found. "It nears completion. Phase one and two are complete," the older man said, breaking the silence. His avatar resembled that of a grandfather from a Norman Rockwell painting, right down to the peaking amount of gray hair on the sides of his head. The glasses perched on his nose finished off the image. "At what cost, though?" the female opposite him asked, her blonde hair framing her freckled face. Her avatar appeared as if it were a cheerleader, pom poms and all. "The cost is justified by the end result," the man in between the two finished. His avatar was the most varied, appearing as a youthful Goth with a serious affection for leather. "Is death so easily disregarded by you, Lestat?" the cheerleader asked, shocked. "Each life has value, damn it, and this wanton string of killing is not worth any price." "Don't lecture me on feelings or moral conviction, Courtney. A) There have been two killings, one definite, one supposed. 'Wanton' is not a word I would use to describe what has happened. B) We are all involved in this for different reasons, but we all know we have no choice in it. No choice any more," Lestat stated, his tone baiting anyone to dispute what he said. His hand wandered to the base of his neck, scratching it lightly. Lestat thought of the tattoo placed there so long ago. "Quit your fighting. Time is not something that is on our side. IT won't wait much longer," the first male said. "Gramps, you're next. We're waiting on you," Lestat responded as his avatar faded from the cyperscape they had all met in. "Yeah, me," Gramps said as he too left. Courtney remained, thinking about what had led her here. 10010011 00110010 01010101 "HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!" Donut watched through the lenses in Helena's visor as her head swung to the left, eyes looking in horror as local security forces ran into the room. Manhunter didn't continue the jab at Donut. Instead she ran the opposite direction, fast. Helena ducked around a corner and jumped high. Reaching out, her gloves fingertips shimmered slightly as the suction cups slid into place. Affixing herself to the wall, Manhunter scrambled up to the ceiling and ducked into a shadowed corner some thirty feet up. The security detail ran right under her. Manhunter dropped down once she was sure the detail was gone. Helena turned out to be wrong. A man standing 6'5" easy bear-hugged Manhunter, huge biceps squeezing the air out of her. Shaw's head shot back, connecting with the giant's chin. Feeling the arms loosen, Helena fought her way free, falling to the ground. Rolling out of reach, Helena came up with baton at a ready position. Her trained eyes took in her opponent, her mind already guessing weak points. The attacker moved around slowly, watching Helena in the same way. Helena decided she wasn't in the mood to play. "I bet you're hired muscle to make up for certain... areas," she said with a smile, the tone carrying her intended sarcastic insult to the thug's ears. Blood rushed to his face as he bolted forward, running full-force at Manhunter. Helena giggled, sidestepped, and swung with her baton, the end of which connected with the man's crotch. The man crumpled to the ground with barely a whimper, out cold from the pain. "Gets them every time," Manhunter said as she walked out of the warehouse. "Talk about a low blow, Helena! That was just downright awful!" Donut said, squirming in his chair. "I can always return the interface if you disapprove of my methods," Manhunter chided. Donut's silence told her all she needed to hear. "You so owe me." Manhunter whispered as her hover car sped off, auto pilot taking it home. Donut smiled. "No shit, add it to my tab," he said in response, closing the connection and smiling. All in a day's work, he mused. The alarms ringing through out Donut's workshop warned him that this day was far from over. After reading the screen, the blind man's eyes widened in surprise. "Personality copy?" 10010011 00110010 01010101 "Personality is a huge part of this, Mike," the fortuneteller continued. "The cards deal themselves according to the person. I simply tell you what they say." "And all they are saying is change?" Mike finished. "It all depends on what you believe, Mike. It all depends on you. These pieces of cardboard don't have the answers; they just point you towards the answers." The reader shifted forward, bringing her hand to rest on Mike's wrist, as if to stop him from bolting. The mystic didn't notice anything, or perhaps she didn't see it at all, but something happened to Mike as soon as the female hand touched his arm. Power blazed to life around the teller's hand, sparking and thrashing around. Then with a bang, the power subsided, the energy dissipating and disappearing. Then the visions started, fast and strong. A turret of images splashed in Mike's mind's eye. A lizard of immense height turned its head to look at Mike, pulling its talons up to show off a ballerina turning in its palm. The huge hand closed, cracking and destroying the twirling figure. A gravestone replaced the picture of the lizard, the name worn off by the weather. The ground surrounding the headstone quakes and trembles, a portion of it breaking out from the ground. Bits and clods of dirt were pushed further as if something below the ground was trying to get out. A hand broke through the soil, flexing as it feels the air on its decomposed flesh. An odd shape was shown next. A circle framed by almost oriental glyphs, the ends merging into the circle in a complex weave pattern. The sigil ebbed with power and brilliance, alternating between red and green in waves of chaos. Mike raised his head as the scenes finished, looking at the tarot reader squarely. The soul that now looked on with Mike Aston's eyes was far older then the young body could claim. "Well, what do we have here?" Mike asked, the words delivered in a singsong voice. The card reader knew something was not right. She knew something had changed. A smile broke across Mike's face, the muscles straining as if they hadn't been used in this fashion in some time. The wider the smile got, the more alien it seemed on Mike's stoic face. The more alien Mike seemed altogether. It all seemed out of place, not right, the teller thought quickly. "Thank you for the look into my future, dear lady, but I must be off. Things to do, demons to find, past debts to repay. You know the drill. In fact, you're well aware of the idea of debts to pay, aren't you, my dear? Anywho, I'm off!" And with that Mike Ashton skipped out of the room, whistling 'Zip-e-dee-do-dah' as if he didn't have a care in the world. 'What the hell was that?!' Lorelei thought as the illusion she masked herself behind dropped. "Well, what a wonderful waste of time. May we go now?" Nemesis asked as she walked out from behind a curtain on the far wall. "Your kid is obviously nuts. Let someone else take care of him; we don't have time." "No, Eve, you don't have time. And I'm stuck to you, so you call the shots. I can't wait to kill you once this curse is lifted." "Keep dreaming dear," Eve smirked as they both disappeared, almost as if the shadows around them had swallowed each whole. 10010011 00110010 01010101 The doughnut was shoved in the Lieutenant's mouth without a second thought, the mouth swallowing the baked good whole. "One of these days I'm going to bust a gut when you choke on one of those things," Paul Atkins laughed, watching his partner inhale the latest six-packs of powdered doughnuts before his eyes. "Hardeeharhar, kid. Remember who the rookie is here, and who gets to insult whom. For example, I can get away with calling your mom a--" "187 found at Wright & Verge, in the alley. All units, repeat, 187 found at Wright & Verge. Nearest unit please intercept." Lieutenant Roger Burges looked around quickly, then radioed in their location while wiping the final doughnut from his chin. After a fast three-minute drive, Paul and Roger both stepped out of the patrol car to look at a scene they both wouldn't forget for a long time. An arm was draped over the dumpster, blood trails running up and down the skin, drops of the substance forming at the girl's fingers' tips. The large pool of blood below the arm told the two detectives that she wasn't a new arrival. This was going to be a long night. Roger walked forward, as Paul radioed for a cleanup crew. Throwing up the dumpster's lid, Roger almost gasped at what he saw. The base of the girl's neck was savagely ripped apart, folds of skin hanging loosely around the wound. The gash was deep; deep enough to see the victim's brains as they slowly oozed past the gouge. Roger soon figured out this was the only wound, but the damage done was severe. Then he noticed the final piece to this puzzle that made it all that more confusing. "Paul! Come look! The wound... it looks as if it's on top of a tattoo!" Burges gruffly called out. Paul sprinted forward, placing a latexseal glove over his hand. Paul liked to be safe, and Roger liked to rush in before everyone else showed up. They made for an even pair. "Don't touch the body, Roger," Paul said. "I keep telling you, you're the rookie." Paul smiled despite himself as Roger put on his gloves and inspected the corpse more closely. As the backup showed up, lights whirling, something at the base of the victim's neck flashed. More, reflected, Paul thought again. "Is that a Plug?" Paul asked. 10010011 00110010 01010101
DIGITAL DREAMS
10010011 00110010 01010101 NEXT ISSUE: Some answers, some more questions, and a lot more confusion. See you all in thirty for BLUE DEVIL:DCF #2.