Author's Note: the roles of Zack, Det
Author's Note: If you're reading, PLEASE REVIEW.

We still need writers to play Zack, Det. Sung, Sketchy, Normal, and any kind of bad guy you like. Please visit the RPG folder at www.delphi.com/darkangelfans/messages for information, or contact me at jennem@bigfoot.com.

Character bio: Lacey McGee is a tabloid news reporter. She is a contemporary of Logan Cale's, and attended several college classes with him. While she maintains a certain professional "relationship" with Logan, secretly she knows he can't stand her and tries to avoid her as much as possible, partially due to the "shady" journalism she produces. She plays ignorant of this because Cale is a supremely good contact to have, and she can usually annoy some assistance out of him. Additionally, while he might not respect her stories and the paper that publishes them, she has always been careful about her accurracy, instead, using the slant of the words to lend a sensationalism to the otherwise boring stories. She has never been sued for libel, although she has received many death threats from irate subjects. She is a stunningly beautiful, vaguely ethnic (partial Polynesian ancestry) woman with long, dark hair and warm skin tones.

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Point of View: LACEY ********************************

This has been just about the most frustrating week of my entire life.

I'm sitting on top of the story of a lifetime, I just know it. And I can't get through enough of the craziness to get it to make sense. Fragments of stories, pieces of puzzles that may or may not fit together...I usually love it when the story is like this, all new and ready to be explored, but I can usually find the answers then, too. This just makes no sense.

I look out at the explosion site. South Market, now smoking black hole in the ground. Tons of loss of life, tons more injuries. The hospitals are going to be swamped. The center of the mess seems to be the warehouse district. I wonder what was stored there. There's been a craziness on the streets, my bet is a new type of hallucinogen drug. Could the explosion be tied to the drug? I have to find out.

Carefully I pick my way through the rubble. In the old days, there would be police all over the place, keeping people back. Now it's just a matter of finding the spots they miss.

I'm near the worst of the debris, carefully poking through the pieces and pocketing an item or two that looks like a clue to the cause. Again, in the old days, that would be hindering an investigation at the least. Thank God those days are over.

Pain suddenly explodes through my head. I fall, twisting, and see one of the hordes of homeless reaching for my bag. I fight, but weakly. Everything's spinning. He grabs the camera and my tech equipment - to fence, I'm sure. Damn. I try to stand but everything spins. I hear a shout in the distance and the homeless guy scurries off. Struggling, I feel my stomach lose the fight with the spins.

Hands reach for me, gently feeling for injuries. I moan when they near the spot on my head where the thief cracked me one. "We got a live one here!" a voice yells. "Stupid skank," he mutters. "You weren't here when it happened. Should be smarter than to go poking around." As he speaks I can feel him administering first aid, but my attention wanders in and out. I don't remember much of the ride to the hospital, but I do remember seeing that I was right. They are swamped.

A concussion is pretty low on the triage list, but eventually I make it to the exam room. The doc has just begun examining me when activity bustles in, a big, bald black man carrying a big, blonde man. My vision is still swimming but the next person looks like Logan? And a very worried, very angry looking woman. The doc instantly moves to the unconscious and bleeding man.

"Logan?" I ask. He spins so fast it's almost comical...if it didn't add to my own discomfort. "Lacey, hi," he said in that tone. That "what's the quickest way to blow her off?" tone. I try to remember the last time I heard any other tone from him, then give it up as a bad bet. "You O.K.?"

"Another whack on the back of this hard head," I respond. "Your friend going to be O.K.?" I see an odd flicker of emotion cross his face.

"I hope so," he said, sounding about as enthusiastic as he does when faced with me. "Excuse me." He turns back to the others. I can hear him murmuring to the black man, but I can't make out the words...the spins get more vicious and suddenly I'm drifting off...

Point of View: LOGAN ********************************

If I could pick one person I didn't want to run into right now...well, it might not be Lacey, but she'd be pretty high on the list. Just what I need, a tabloid reporter who's good enough to get the facts, and bad enough to spill them when she shouldn't. At least she's unconscious.

The doctors turn from Lacey to Zack. She's stable, he's not. Fortunately, at this point they're attributing the unconsciousness to loss of blood and possible head trauma. With any luck, they'll get him patched up faster than they get his test results. Then we can get him back out, with a few medical accessories, before they start asking questions.

"We've got the bleeding stopped," the doctor tells us. "I'm going to take him up to X-ray now, while you go fill out his paperwork. Someone will tell you when we find a bed for him."

An assistant begins wheeling Zack from the room and Tinga, looking panicked, starts to follow. Bling grabs her arm--brave man--and pulls her back. He tells her something, quietly, and she nods.

We head out to the crowded waiting room.

"I saw the building blow," a woman with a blackened face tells her neighbor, who's cradling a broken arm. "A big bang, smoke, that's all I remember."

An explosion. Not an earthquake at all. What could explode with enough force to rock an entire city?

Bling has grabbed some paperwork from the front desk, and with Tinga's assistance is writing a suitably creative history for Zack.

"I'm going to call Max," I tell them, "See if she's found out anything more about this explosion."

Tinga nods, muttering something about previous injuries and scribbling on the sheet.

I find a relatively quiet corner and dial my home phone, getting the machine. Max doesn't pick up. I dial her pager and ten minutes later there's still no response.

Should have known she wouldn't stay put.

Point of View: MAX ********************************

I've been extremely careful to make sure that Lydecker hasn't followed me. I can't lead him to an unconscious Zack, not to mention Logan, Bling, and Tinga.

Tinga. I just found her and now we might have to split up. Life is unfair.

The emergency room is a mess. Nurses and doctors running everywhere. People who aren't bleeding are waiting for someone to come a long and give them a five minute check over. The people who are bleeding are being dealt with as best as possible.

"We're out of AB pos," one nurse says just as she collides with me. She hadn't been watching where she was going, and frankly, neither was I. "Miss, unless you are bleeding, you have to wait over there," she dismisses me.

"I don't need a doctor," I tell her, "I'm looking for a friend."

"Sorry, can't help you." She sizes me up, "What blood type are you?"

I'll bet she'd love to hear I'm a universal donor.

"Max?!" Someone calls from behind me. I spin around. Logan. He's surprised to see me, but that surprise quickly fades into exasperation. "Where have you been? I called home, you were supposed to be there."

There's a woman I don't recognize there next to him. Seeing me stare at her, he introduces her. "Max, this is Lacey McGee, an old, er, friend."

Oooh. An old friend. I see.

"Where have you been?" he repeats.

"Look, Logan, now's not the time, okay? We've got a problem."

"What? Did you find out the cause of the explosion?" Lacey leans in, an interested look on her face. She looks like a vulture. She must be a reporter.

"Manticorny gummies are unstable," I say, "But the thing is . . . "

A nurse finds her way to us, "Excuse me, but did you come in with the blond man who had a leg wound?"

"Yes," Logan answers, "What is it?"

"He's lost a lot of blood and needs a transfusion. We're extremely low on blood reserves, so I need to know if any of you can donate blood."

Logan looks from me to Tinga and back to me.

"I can't," Tinga cries, "How can he ask me to do that?"

"I'm his sister," I say, "I'll do it." The hell with the consequences. Lydecker's already here.

I look back at Tinga. She's sobbing. She's been hurt deeply by Zack, and I'm pissed at him for that. But he's still my brother. "I can't do it, I can't," she cries, "If he weren't unconscious, I'd kill him."

The nurse looks stricken. "She's in shock," I hastily explain as Bling takes Tinga into a small closet to get some privacy and peace.

I turn to Logan. "Lydecker's here, he knows I was at your place," I whisper, so that Lacey can't hear. Then I leave with the nurse for the transfusion. We walk about a hundred paces before the ground starts to shake again.

Point of View: LOGAN ********************************

I watch Max walk away, with a nurse who will take her blood. Blood that will be tested, putting her at risk of being identified as not quite human.

Giving blood to help Zack. Who would take her away from me in an instant.

After she came here to warn me about Lydecker. Who will chase her away from me even faster than Zack.

Tinga and Bling are off in some closet, and I'm here alone watching Max walk away.

The ground is shaking again and all I want to do is grab Max and take her as far from here as possible. And keep her there. With me.

But I can't. She wouldn't go. So as soon as the world steadies I head for the front desk, to see if I can commandeer a computer and figure out what the hell is going on.

Point of View: JONDIE********************************

I didn't recognize the man who had my arm in his grasp...but frankly I didn't need any help and the utter chaos was getting on my last nerve. I twisted his arm around his back and thrust him against the nearest wall. Then in one swift motion knocked him out. I dusted my hands off and felt satisfied..Zack always said I had a taste for the fight...as I was about to gather up my belongings something caught my eye. Slowly I knelt down. Some sort of pass was jutting out of his pocket. I picked it up cautiously..."Canale Candy Company." My eyebrows knitted together. What did that have to do with anything? I sighed, he was probably just part of the masses. However something made me hold onto the ID...call me paranoid...call me a packrat...but my intuition told me to keep it. I grabbed my bags, and of course my darling dog and left.
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hours later
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It hadn't taken me long to check into a hotel, grab a bite to eat, and unpack. Seattle truly was a place of modern convenience, at least as modern as you can get during a depression, however it didn't really suit my tastes...there was something dreary about it...even in complete sunlight. Frustrated I decided to explore a bit...perhaps grab another bite to eat..those hotdogs down on the corner of 3rd and twenty 2nd were pretty darn good.
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current time
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I had thought it was nothing at first, just my body being oversensitive...however I was wrong. The rumbling had taken over right as I bit into my second frankfurter..it consumed everything and everyone with fear and noise. I don't know how long the earthquake lasted I only knew it had come....Now, as I lay stiff, thoughts of the fallen rubble play over in my head. I must admit I have always been claustrophobic thanks to Manticore "water sessions," and the dusting of building materials around threw me into a state of panic. I was covered, bruised, bleeding, and hysterical...Frantically I clawed at the bits and fragments blocking my view. In the distant sirens cried...medics were on the way...blackness started taking over and I gave in....

When I came to I was in a hospital room. People were running about outside. I surveyed the damage...my arm was broken, and I had an assortment of cuts wrapped in bandaids and gauze. I stared at the ceiling...what a way to start off my first days in Seattle...I knew I didn't like this stupid city. Then my thoughts floated to my pet...I may obsess about him, but he was all I had...there were no friends, no family, not since I last argued with Zack. I had pretty much kept to myself...I guess because I've never really gotten past the fact that I'm a coward...I left Max in the water...I just left her. Shaking my head I tried to dwell on something else...I had never quite gotten rid of my guilt and I probably never would. I rolled over on my side to check out my unlucky roommate. He was unconscious...blond...there was something about his presence that was safe and familiar. I just laid there looking at him, lost in a state of nothingness..I didn't want to think..I just wanted to be..for the moment.

Point of View: BRINN ********************************

The explosion came in very handy. Just like the C4 I'd stashed away for emergencies. The Canale Candy Company had outlived it's usefulness, so I blew it up.

Some people were getting a little too close to the operation we had going. I distinctly remember a Logan Cale sniffing around candy companies that made gummies of any kind. Canale made gummies, but it was elsewhere that the 'Herbal' part was put in and they were stamped with the Manticorny label.

The damage I've done is pretty impressive. Most of South Market, where Canale was located, is a charred shell of what was.

Thing is, the explosion set of aftershocks. An undiscovered fault line lies beneath Seattle. More destruction. Something I like.

"Blond male. Age 23," comes across my radio. I've been monitoring all coms since two hours before the explosion. Basic training. "Leg wound and head trauma," the voice continues. It's a medic at the hospital, reporting to the city rescue systems database.

The database was created in 2011, to improve city wide emergency handling. 911 had been destroyed in the effects of the Pulse. The database required all cases to be called in, so that the city's disaster teams could recreate, with as much accuracy as possible, what had happened, so that they could better deal with it in the future.

"Distinguishing marks," the medic continues, "a tattoo on the back of his neck. Looks like a barcode."

Zack.

Lydecker had said Max and Zack, and maybe even Tinga, were here in the city. He wants me to bring them back.

I want to kill them.