-X-

Chapter Two

You'll Find Someone True

LUCK: 1) The seemingly chance happening of events which affects one; fortune; lot; fate. 2) Good fortune; success, prosperity, advantage.

DUMB LUCK: The seemingly chance happening of events which affects one despite one's inherent ability to make bad choices. 2) Good fortune despite foolishness and/or recklessness.

-X-

August 13, 1990

Dumb Luck was walking down Providence Street in Kingsbury when one Adam Bennett, an art student at the University of Channer decided to slip into a psychotic episode five blocks up on the same street. Of course when one factors in the size of Kingsbury, it's not difficult to be within ten blocks of anything while both are in the downtown core.

A quick 911 call by concerned bystanders and the police and ambulance services arrived with sirens wailing. The media showed up soon after. Adam was standing in the middle of the street, blocking traffic, with squad cars surrounding him. The police had their guns draw in case he became a danger to others. But all he did was blabber incoherently and wander in little circles, arms waving in the air.

A smart looking brunette woman in her thirties went up to the highest ranking member of the force on the scene. "Captain! Have your officers put away their guns! I know what's wrong with him!"

"And who are you?" He asked, gun still drawn.

She had to move fast; the situation could get out of hand at any moment. "I am Muirne Conrad. Doctor Muirne Conrad. I am a psychologist, and I know what is wrong with him. Put away your guns so I can approach him before this gets worse."

The Captain watched the seemingly psychotic male speak gibberish. "If you can even understand him, he's speaking in tongues."

"Actually, it's Manx; an almost extinct language from the Isle of Man, a 'Centum' Indo-European vernacular which share Celtic roots with Scottish and Irish Gaelic, Welsh, and Breton dialects, as well as Cornish which is also obsolete." Aboveground, Manx was almost extinct. The Captain stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded.

"Is it safe to assume you can speak it?"

"I get by."

"Put down your weapons!" The Captain commanded. Dr. M. Conrad slipped through the tape and walked towards the distraught man.

Completely unfazed, and possibly unaware of his surroundings, Adam alleged in a steady, dazed, drone over and over in Manx, "And the time has come . . . A dark triad . . . The Banished . . . The Transported . . . The Expatriated . . . Darkness to all three realms . . ." There was a moment of nervousness when he reached inside his jacket. Pulling out a sketchbook and tossing it on the ground, he continued to chant. "Twenty-Five who tasted darkness . . . Ten descended . . . Four sacrificed . . . Three kept . . . Three cured . . . Three insane . . . Two returned . . . The Key . . . The King . . . The Exile . . . A time of darkness . . . . Twenty-Five . . . Ten . . . Four . . . Three . . . Three . . . Three . . . Two . . ." He noticed Muirne walking towards him, and he sank to his knees in a trance-like state, continuing to drone on, "Twenty-Five . . . Ten . . . Four . . . Three . . . Three . . ." He trailed off. "My Lady." He moaned in desperation.

Muirne offered him her hand. He reached up very slowly, and grasped it so gently. Overcome by emotion, he started to shake as Muirne knelt next to him. He buried his face in her shoulder and released pent up sobs. It was heartbreaking.

As soon as they deemed him no longer a threat, Adam was placed in the back of an ambulance to under-go psychiatric evaluation at the hospital. The doctor had stuffed Adam's sketchbook in her shoulder bag.

"You know, that was dangerous." Officer Mike Faison whispered to Muirne.

"I know. But what choice did I have?"

The next day, in Faedell Sarah picked up the Kingsbury local newspaper. He town didn't have their own.

Crime in Kingsbury Rises, the headline screamed at her. She scanned through the article over breakfast as she got ready for work.

"Crime rates in Kingsbury are the highest that they've been in decades. The number of unsolved cases has also steeply increased over the same time period. The sudden incline started in December of last year when a local man was killed in a mugging go wrong. The case was never solved." She scanned lower. "The owner of one local store, who wished to remain anonymous, has been quoted saying, 'This is an atrocity. Every time we turn around, another mess we have to clean up. We have insurance, but it feels like we're being targeted.' His store has been broken into several times over the last couple weeks, including a tragic burglary where his daughter was killed less than two weeks ago."

Sarah nibbled her lip, Kingsbury was a small city, and she knew it was Chelsea Masry they were referring to. It was so recent, and the crime was still unsolved; no leads, no suspects, an apparent random act of violence. She fought back tears.

In a preparatory high school with a little over a thousand mindless students obsessed with conformity and popularity, Chelsea was the closest thing she had to a friend. The rest of the student body regarded her as 'the freak'. Was it any surprise she spent most of her time growing up in Glen Park, and took out her frustration on her father, Karen, and Toby? It wasn't an excuse, but the night she wished away Toby, her classmates had been particularly cruel to her that week regarding that years Spring Fling. Karen's unaware comment about Sarah finding a date struck particularly deep.

No boy or anyone really, at her high school would have anything to do with her, not if you wanted any chance to be close to Brenna Eadoin and her cronies. Brenna was popular, pretty, rich, and ruled the student body with her own brand of cruel 'justice' to those who didn't follow her rules. Her rules for her fellow students: blend in, worship me, don't question me, do as I say, and visciously shun anyone who breaks my rules. Sarah didn't, and they made her pay with cruelty. And the faculty either didn't notice or didn't care.

She turned to the inside of the paper, trying not to remember. Suicide Rates in NY State Highest in Decades, the paper announced. Slightly depressed, she opened the paper to the comics.

Later, on route to her job at 'Caldwell's Tomes: New and Second-Hand Books', when they turned on Allure Street, a Police car was up the street in front of 'Charmed Woodland', it's flashing lights illuminating the nearby store fronts.

Just out front, the police were taking statements from the Masry's, and Kiandra sat waiting in front of the shop. She glared across the street where an orc, in human glamour, stood smirking. She saw right through it. The front window had been busted in and the contents were a mess. Eventually, the police left and she spoke to the Masry's. They went inside, and she crossed the street to the waiting orc.

"I quit. I gave them my two weeks notice. I hope you're satisfied. Now have your friends as well as yourself leave the Masry's alone. They're good people."

"You better disappear little girl, 'cause we're not done with you yet, causing all sorts of trouble for the Ladyship." He rubbed his meaty hand against an iron burn on his bare scalp. "And I'm definitely not done with you yet." Kiandra smirked, figuring he was the one she had beaten with the skillet in Massachusetts. He noticed her reaction and grabbed her by her shirt collar.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." She told him calmly. "You know, with the Treaty and all."

"You're bluffing. That only works if you're a citizen of Mag Mell."

"But I am. Well, I was. And will be. It's all very confusing. Just put me down."

He dropped her as stepped back. "This isn't over." He said before he walked away.

"No, this is only the beginning." It was time for her to go underground.

x X x

To my loyal readers: Thanks so much for reading and reviewing this one (and adding it to alerts). Just to let you know, the majority of the story will take place 1991/92. Chapter three will be up in about three or four days if all goes well.

In case anyone is wondering, Faedell is a bedroom community; a tiny town (too small for even a high school) that sprang up near a city (Kingsbury) where the residents work in the city, but reside in the town; almost like the suburbs, but with shops and other things than just houses. It's just a few minutes directly north of Kingsbury. Both are along Interstate 4 (which runs alongside the northern part of the Hudson River), just north of Fort Miller (actually exists) in Washington County, New York state. Plum Island, Massachusetts (from the previous chapter), and Adriondack Park (in NY state, from 'WLU') also exists. Sadly, neither Kingsbury nor Faedell exist.

And yes, I am this finicky when it comes to research.