(Early December - Evie)
Twas' the night before Christmas, and all through the house …
That wasn't entirely true, Evie told herself, hugging the wall of her bedroom. Christmas was still three weeks off. Her service weapon was out, pointed up in the absence of a target, but it certainly hadn't been a mouse that had made the sizeable racket in the living room. It sounded like someone was tossing the place, perhaps a burglar looking for an easy score …
Evie glances around her bedroom, remembering her phone. She could always call for backup, if need be. But...nope. She can see that the small table beside her bed only holds the latest novel she has been reading, the cover illuminated by the numbers of her LED clock.
Well, poop. I bet I left it on the kitchen table after I talked to Saul, she thinks in mild irritation.
Carefully and quietly as possible, Evie moves so that she is positioned beside her bedroom door. She turns the knob slowly and cracks the door, peering through the slit to try and get some idea of what's happening. Honestly, she didn't expect to see much. She didn't remember if she closed the curtains or not before she went to bed. So, depending on that, the streetlamps outside of her apartment may or may not afford her enough light to actually see anything.
The apartment is dark except for the flicker of a flashlight beam, and that gives you more than enough light to see by. A furrowed brow, a face contorted in a half-sneer ... if you hadn't known Edward McCain was dead and buried, you might even suspect it was him.
The man tosses several drawers. It's clear he's looking for something.
Wait. What was it that Heimdall had said? If someone steals the gifts he was giving to you, you'd lose access to the powers ... and the thief, if they knew what they were stealing, would gain them ...
Evie glances at the darkened wall across the room where her rucksack...errrr...purse hangs on the closet doorknob. Therein are her glasses and badge. Normally, she would've left it by the front door. However, upon receiving Heimdall's gifts, she had started making sure that she kept it close. Probably, as time passed, she would grow lax and start leaving it lying about the apartment wherever she happened to stop after getting home. Thankfully, though, she's still a brand-spanking-new Scion and hyper-aware of her own state and the risks and rewards that come with it.
She takes a deep breath and thinks. There's really nothing much out there that she cares about. Well, that's not entirely true. There are a few expensive electronics and plenty of sentimental items. But, there's nothing that she would either kill or be killed for.
Slowly, she creeps towards her purse, leaving the bedroom door cracked as she does so. Trying to close it, again, would offer the opportunity for sound that might draw the invader's attention.
Once she reaches her purse, she carefully pulls out her badge in its case. She flips it open so that the clip she would normally use to hang it from a belt is exposed. Having nothing else available, Evie clips it to her panties at her hip. Getting her glasses takes a moment of digging, as they are kept in an inner, protective pouch. But, once she has them, she hangs them from the neck of her T-shirt.
Evie softly walks to her bed and crawls back onto the mattress. Biting her lip, she hopes that any noise she makes is interpreted as her simply rolling over in her sleep. She gingerly arranges herself so that she is sitting up in bed, with her gun aimed at her bedroom door. Once in position, she waits...
If he walks in, the angle of splatter from the shot would be consistent with me being startled awake and shooting an unknown intruder. Even with me being a cop, no one will question a woman defending herself in her own bedroom from a break-in, Evie watches the door, tense, nerves on edge as she waits to see just how bold this man is...
The ransacking of your apartment continues. There is no doubt you will have an enormous mess to contend with.
"Why can't this bitch leave her purse on the kitchen table like everyone else?" you hear a terse complaint. "Bathroom, maybe?"
More banging of drawers. You can almost feel the thief's impatience radiating from him.
"Fuck. Of course it's in her bedroom," the voice says. "Sit tight, I got this."
Could there be more than one of them? Great.
The bedroom door begins to push inward, a faint glimmer of a penlight from behind cupped fingers. A red telltale by his ear indicates he's using a Bluetooth earpiece, his conversation with someone else - perhaps a driver outside. It would be too much to ask that he be on the phone with someone like Jason Lyman ...
The detective lets out a soft breath as the man enters her bedroom. Several thoughts fly through her mind, darting in her head like elusive, silvery fish. For a split second, she considers not shooting...
Her finger tightens on the trigger...
She could possibly get information from him. Maybe. But is it worth risking not acting? Or even aiming to not kill?
The trigger pulls back...
BANG! The sound of her gun going off resounds in her bedroom, a flash from the muzzle briefly illuminating the movie posters on the walls.
Oh, shit. I can see ghosts, she thinks after the fact...
Training takes over and your shots have textbook placement - a double-tap right through the ten-ring. The force of the shots throws him backwards. His body slams against the door jamb and does a slow-motion slide to the floor.
"Muh ..." is all he manages to say.
He has no visible weapon to hand, but that's irrelevant - it's the middle of the night and he's not a house guest.
Evie moves to the man's side, all the while keeping an eye on the door. Though she is fairly certain that he was the only one in her apartment, it's better to be safe than sorry. She glances quickly down at the body, just long enough to get her bearings, before she takes the Bluetooth off of his ear and hooks it over her own.
She says nothing as she slips out of her bedroom and begins to move about her home, weapon still ready. Evie listens as she canvases her place. Fortunately, her apartment isn't big, so there aren't too many places someone could be hiding.
As expected, the front of the apartment is a mess, drawers pulled from the small desk and throughout the kitchen. Cushions were taken up, some slashed open.
Outside, the street looks normal ... except for one car where a plume of exhaust is visible against the chill night air. Although some of your neighbors work swing and/or early mornings, you know it's not any of them.
"Waitaminit, what was that? You didn't shoot her, did you?" asks a voice over the Bluetooth earbud. "Come on, mano, don't fuck around."
Right now, Evie is fairly calm. But, she knows it won't last. She is living in that strange moment when training and adrenaline take over and everything is crystal clear. As soon as it passes, though, she's going to be a mess of shakes and thundering heartbeats.
Still saying nothing, she darts to the kitchen table and grabs her phone. Whoever this is needs to stay put for just a few more moments. If she talks, he'll know that the gig is up and flee. But, she wants to hear his voice so that she might recognize it again, another day.
Evie flips through the apps and finds her camera. She wants a snapshot. Something to help reference for later...
You quickly snap photos of the now-crime scene, from the aftermath of the search to the body on the floor, including one from your perspective sitting up in bed. The front door will need to be replaced, as it was shouldered open.
"Stupid cabron, she heard you and you got shot. Fuck," comes the voice. The vernacular suggests the speaker is Latino, possibly a gang member.
The line goes dead. You hear an engine rev from outside and the squeal of tires as the car you spotted earlier pulls away from the curb ...
Evie finally sits down at the kitchen table. She closes her eyes for a moment and takes a couple of deep breaths, her hands already starting to shake.Funny, that, she thinks to herself. Everything is fine until it's all over.
For a few moments, she just sits there and looks at the colossal mess in her apartment. Some of her more delicate knick-knacks lay on the floor, broken. The couch! Oh...the couch. She wonders if the great, ugly beast can be saved. It was an eyesore but it was the most comfortable thing she ever owned. Oh, well...
I need to call the others and let them know what happened. And get some clothes together and go to a hotel. Or something. Can't stay at the crime scene...
First, though, she calls HQ to report the incident. Evie gets in touch with the right department and lets the officers there know that there was a break and enter and that she killed the intruder in self-defense. Then, she sits back and waits for them to arrive. She knows that she can't be moving things until the detective on the case has a chance to look at the scene.
As an afterthought, she goes and puts away her glasses and badge before the cops arrive. And puts on pants. It wouldn't do at all for them to arrive and find her sitting there, pretty as you please, dressed in nothing but an old T-shirt and panties.
The police response is understandably swift, with two officers and a detective from robbery/homicide there within ten minutes. A paramedic team is close behind. The flashing lights will certainly let everyone else in the neighborhood know something is amiss.
"Evie, you okay? Not hurt?"
You shake your head in the negative.
"In the bedroom," is all you say.
The other detective nods and walks down the hall. He isn't gone long.
"Looks pretty straightforward. Want to tell me what happened?"
"I was woken up by the sounds of someone ransacking my home. I didn't know exactly what was going on and I realized that I had left my phone in here on the kitchen table. So, I couldn't call for help," she shakes her head as she talks. "So, I grabbed my gun. About that time, the poor sod opens my bedroom door. As soon as he was through the door, I shot him. I didn't know what he had planned. I didn't know if he had a weapon. I didn't know if this was just a robbery or...something else."
Evie lets those last words hang. Both of the detectives are well aware of what else the man could've had in mind. Of course, Evie is fairly certain that all he was supposed to do was steal her gifts, but she can't exactly tell the other detective that. He just came in to steal my magic sunglasses and badge!
In all honesty, she didn't know what else was planned. He man could've decided to kill her as she slept, despite the fact that she is fairly certain they were told to just rob her. The surprise in the accomplices voice when he said "You didn't shoot her?!" would indicate that it was supposed to be a robbery. But, you never can tell. The man might've decided to try and curry favor by doing away with an enemy...show initiative and all that.
Evie sighs and shrugs, "That's pretty much it."
"Sounds like a justified shoot to me," says your colleague. "Internal Affairs will want to interview you, and you'll be on paid leave for a couple of days while all that's sorted out."
"Hey, Detective," calls out one of the officers. Both you and your colleague answer out of habit.
"Oh, geez. Sorry. Anyway, CSI is here," he adds.
The scene is photographed, dusted, and measured. Your ability to assess circumstances provides nothing but reassurance. Nothing your instincts tell you is at odds with your statement.
After the front of the house is photographed, the two officers help you set things to rights as much as possible. Apart from the slashed cushions and some small breakage - a smashed coffee mug, broken glass in a photo frame - it almost looks normal.
"We can stand watch for the rest of the night, or we can take you to a hotel," offers one officer.
"Aw, no guys. I appreciate your help cleaning up and the offer to stand guard, but I'll be fine. I know you have more pressing things to take care of than to babysit me all night," she smiles and moves to the fridge. Evie reaches in and pulls out a couple of Cokes. She then fishes around in a big basket on the kitchen counter and pulls out some chocolate chip cookies.
With a smile, she hands the goodies to the nearest cop, "I think a snack is the least I can do, at this point." She pauses for a second and adds, "Neither of you would happen to know a good upholsterer, would you?"
Her eyes skim across her mangled couch, passing on towards the hallway to her bedroom. Her mind flits to the bloodstain there, I need to make a will. I need to leave something behind in case we all fail or are killed. There will be other scions and they will need something to work with... She thinks of the notes that Thomas left behind with his own family. Just in case.
"Mmmm, coooooookies," says one officer in a Cookie Monster imitation.
"There's a consignment store down on Third, I think the owner does that sort of thing," says the other officer. "Store's called Designs by Janet - does a lot of reclaiming and recycling of old stuff, the whole urban treasure scene."
The attack has made it clear that Lyman's bunch is willing to offer harm, which suggests whatever plans they have are nearing an important stage. But it doesn't feel quite right. The world isn't unsettled enough, angry enough to be rushing headlong into Ragnarok.
Something is wrong.
"Thanks! I'll check that place out," Evie gives a tired, sad smile and flops down into a kitchen chair. "Well, I will when the sun comes up, anyway. I'm not going to have much else to do than that and go door shopping."
At about this time, Evie's phone rings. She picks it up from the kitchen table and glances at the name, surprised that anyone would be calling at this hour. However, she sees Lya's name and is immediately alert.
"Excuse me for a minute, guys. I need to take this," Evie apologizes to the officers as she passes them on the way to her bedroom where she can talk privately.
After a brief conversation, Evie returns to the living room, "That was a friend of mine. At first, I thought something was wrong because...well..." She gestures vaguely at the apartment, indicating that her frame of mind was already in that particular mode.
"Turns out they just want to hang out. Lya and the band have weird hours and sometimes they forget that not everyone else is usually awake this late," she chuckles. "Of course, with our line of work...we have strange hours, too. So, I guess it's not all that odd."
"Anyway, I took them up on the offer. They're going to pick me up and we'll go do something or the other. It'll be better than moping around here until sunrise," she gives her fellow officers another tired smile.
"You guys get on out of here. Take the cookies and be free! I'll be fine until Lya shows up."
About fifteen minutes later there's a knock on the door. "Hey Evie, your chariot awaits! You know I turn into a pumpkin if I don't get a drink in me..." Lya calls out before turning to the others. "Mmm... Pumpkin Ale... I should pick some up later."
Klepto rolls her eyes and chuckles. "Not like you're driving..."
As Lya raps upon the door, she feels it shift and open slightly on its own. It's at this point that she notices that lock area is completely busted where the intruder shouldered his way into Evie's home.
"Come on in," Evie says as she opens the door and gestures for the crew to come inside. "Let me just grab a clean set of clothes and we'll get out of here. Just in case I change my mind and decide to stay at a hotel, later."
As they come inside, Evie gestures to the two officers. They had decided to stay with their fellow until her ride arrived. "These are Officers Rosencrantz and Morgan. They were keeping me company until you got here"
"Hello, ladies," one of the officers says, giving them a friendly nod and smile.
"Hey, wait...I know you." says the shorter and darker of the two, Morgan. "You guys were the ones who did the benefit a few weeks ago. The one that got interrupted by that fire."
Officer Rosencrantz shakes his head, "Crazy stuff, that. I'm glad that you and everyone else came out of that okay."
"Some people don't appreciate punk rock I guess," Lya chuckles as she reaches out and shakes their hands with a smile as the others nod in greeting. "Lya Bach and the Furies... nice to meet you officers. But seriously... we just did our best to keep everyone from panicking... it was hard working people like you guys who really saved the day."
Lya's eyes widen before she starts patting her coat pocket. "You know... I just might..." She pulls out a black & white 8x10 promo shot of the band and a silver sharpie. "I mean, it's the least we can do for our men in blue, right?" she winks as she leans over the coffee table and signs the picture "To our dedicated men and women in blue! XXOO Lya Bach" before handing it off to Klepto and the others to sign.
Toxic looks around the disheveled room and whistles. "Damn, Evie... they really did a number on your place, didn't they. You ok?"
"Aw, shucks, ma'am. We're just doing our jobs," Rosencrantz smiles and accepts the photo. "Thanks for the photo! I'll have to see if my girl knows you guys. I bet she does. She listens to all kinds of wild music. I'm afraid I'm kind of boring. Just listen to country mostly, myself."
Evie reappears from her bedroom, a small bag in one hand. She had tossed a clean set of clothes and a toothbrush into it, the act taking only a couple of minutes.
Evie nods at Toxic's question, her expression grim, "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just a bit rattled. I certainly came out of this venture better than the intruder did."
She makes a quick detour into the kitchen and grabs the entire package of cookies off the counter. Evie tosses them to Morgan as she passes, "Thanks for keeping me company, guys. I hope the rest of your night is quiet."
"You, too. If you need anything at all, we'll be patrolling this area. Just give us a yell," Morgan nods to Evie, Lya and the rest of the band as he slips past them.
"Nice meeting you ladies," Rosencrantz smiles as he follows his partner out the door.
"That's the way any intrusion should end in my book," Toxic replies. "Better you than him."
"Keep up the good work, gentlemen," Lya salutes the officers as she holds the door open for everyone. "I don't know about you guys, but after tonight I think we could all use a drink...or three."
"No kidding," Evie agrees, following everyone out. She pulls the door shut behind everyone and clucks sadly as it doesn't latch. She hates leaving the apartment wide open but...what are you going to do?
"Oh, wait!" she says, a thought suddenly occurring to her. The cops turn briefly, thinking that perhaps she is speaking to them, but she waves them on. "I just forgot something."
Evie goes back into the house and moves to her bookshelf where she keeps her journals. She has three of them that contain notes from all of her previous cases and another couple that are personal. All of these, she tosses into her bag. She then goes and grabs her address/phone book from its place in the kitchen counter and adds it to the bag.
Lya and the band step back inside and watch as Evie bustles about. She hands her bag to one of the band and says, "Do you mind carrying that? Thanks!"
Evie goes back to her bedroom, stepping over the bloodstains. She moves to her PC and quickly unplugs it from the monitor. She scoops it up under one arm and comes back out.
"Okay, now I'm ready," she say. "I'm not about to leave anything that would give these jokers any kind of edge on us lying around in an unlocked apartment."
"Good idea," Lya replies as they load everything into the van and make room for Evie to hop in. "We should head somewhere that isn't a regular place for either of us just in case, you know?"
She turns around in her seat to address everyone in the back of the van.
"Hey Orithia... what was that one place you said was a cool bar? Something fishy... wasn't it?"
"The Piranha Club," Orithia chuckles. "It's an alternative nightclub over on Paradise with these skyboxes on the second floor that will give us a great view of the door if anyone should stop by uninvited."
"Sounds like a winner to me," Klepto replies. "I doubt any of those Lobos would be caught dead in there."
Lya claps her hands with a smile. "All right then, the Piranha Club it is! We'll get a few drinks and then we can all spill about our exciting encounters tonight."
(Early December - Lya)
Knowing people who lived on the streets (and having done so herself, in a past life), Lya knew the cardboard box propped against the fence was someone's shelter against a chill winter's night. They probably expected to skim the trash for discarded fast food, perhaps even the dregs of a can of beer.
"That … that's just wrong," Phoebe said quietly. "Bright lights, big city, except for the people who fall through the cracks."
"It's a look at what the Titans have in store for humanity," Orithia said. "But we can't make them see. They have to choose."
Phoebe fished in her pockets, came up with a five dollar bill. "Okay with you, Lya?"
"Like you have to ask, Phoebe," Lya smiles before kneeling down a respectful distance from the box. "Hey... you need some help?" Lya calls out softly. "I know some good people at the Rescue Mission who could give you a bed for the night so you can get out of the cold. We could help you get there if you need..."
There's a muffled intake of breath. Not of surprise, but tinged with the don't-look-at-me sadness common to people who suddenly find themselves without shelter or the means to change that circumstance.
"Tossed me out," comes the answer. "Got the shakes too bad, and ... the rage is always there. Can't hold it back sometimes."
"This might warm you up," Lya replies as she pulls her flask out of her pocket and offers it to the destitute man for a drink.
"Perhaps a healthy focus for your rage could help?" offers Klepto. "When the desire for combat burns in a warriors's blood, they search for a focus to release their anger that allows them to continue to help people."
"Hey that's a good idea," Lya replies a her eyes light up. "Gods...what was his name that had the boxing club for troubled kids? Jorge's kids next door wouldn't stop talking about the place when I lived in my old apartment...Relentless Youth! That's it!" she snaps her fingers. "Maybe you just need a place that can help you focus your rage into something you can control."
"It's not like that. It's not anger, it's ... they gave me something. Jolting Blue, something like that," he says. "Doesn't stop. You just want to hurt people, smash things."
"Jotunblut..." Lya mutters as she looks up at the Furies grimly.
"Man... don't they know life is hard enough on the streets without people forcing bad drugs on you? Tell you what..." she rummages through her coat pockets for whatever cash she has handy and then gestures to the others for donations. "If you can tell me whatever you can remember about the people who gave you that drug, I'd like to pay you for the information. No charities... no pity parties... just honest work. All I ask is that you use this cash to do whatever it takes to keep that rage under control... whether it's a bottle of whiskey, a fat blunt, you name it... because I've seen what that drug does to people."
She slaps the cash along with her card into the man's hand. "If you feel like you're really losing control and you're afraid you're going to hurt people... please... please call me, okay? My name's Lya... and I want to help."
The man looks back at you with red-rimmed eyes and a familiar face. You realize it's one of the gang members from the almost-fight at the Soul Food Diner. Jotunblut would explain the idiocy of picking a fight with Hitoshi present, let alone the Furies.
"You ..." he says. "Oh, shit. Oh, shit."
His eyes roll back in his head and his teeth begin to chatter, but not from the cold. His hands clench and unclench spasmodically.
"Lya. Get back," Toxic says, flatly.
"My master has ordered your death," the man says. "I ... grrrr."
He charges out of the box, almost blindly so, but driven by a rage not unlike that of a Maenad ...
"Damn it... fight it man... fight it!" Lya calls out as she backs away and reaches for the Beretta that she keeps tucked in the back of the waistband of her leather pants. "If you want your life back you have to take control of it and stop! You're more than a thug... remember your name!"
"Or else we will stop you ourselves..." Toxic finishes coldly as the Furies all prepare for battle around her.
The only indication that your moment's blessing has any effect is the young man charging past you and the Furies, to smash himself headlong into the wall. It's enough to knock bits of stucco off the building, but not enough to stop him.
It's almost like he's in the grip of a seizure. You begin to understand that he is trying to fight off the Berserker-like rage, the compulsion to follow orders ... and that it's a losing battle. When his will falters, what is left will be acting on almost primal instincts.
"We need to put him down but try not to hurt him... he can't help himself!" Lya calls out to the Furies.
"Klepto... see if you can knock him out while he's disoriented!"
The young man continues to smash against things, Jotunblut-empowered strength evident in holes punched through walls. Klepto circles around him, making several feints to draw him away and into a vulnerable position.
He charges once more.
Klepto pivots and leaps onto the man's back, her arms snaking about his neck in a chokehold. She has one knee tucked up by his shoulder blades for added leverage. It's like riding a bucking bronco, a game of time.
Finally, the enraged youth drops to his knees, panting heavily. Klepto maintains the pressure until he topples.
"That won't keep him out for long," she says.
Lya grabs her phone and quickly dials 911. "You've got to help me... my friend is overdosing on something like PCP and I'm afraid he's going to hurt himself and my friends... can you guys send an ambulance to Freemont Street across from The Griffin? Please hurry, and make sure you bring some really strong sedatives!"
Once she's finished talking to the emergency operator she bends down and quickly searches the unconscious man for her card and any other clues. "I really wish I could help you, man... but I think being around you now is just going to make things worse," she mutters before looking up at the others. "If we can't find anything then we need to get the hell out of here before he wakes up again. Maybe if I'm not around he'll calm down again... and hopefully if he gets taken to the hospital they can try to get this crap out of his system."
"It's not a drug, it's a ritual infusion of power. A binding," says Orithia, frowning. "I don't know if EMT's can do anything other than keep him for observation, and then put him in a straitjacket and a padded room."
Your search turns up nothing. Some crumpled dollar bills, nothing sizeable, damp from sweat or simply being out in the elements. No wallet, no ID or Driver's License. No house or car keys.
"Right. Some kid pumped up on whatever that Nordic shit is called just happens to be lying in the alley outside the club we were playing at," says Toxic. "And he knew who you were, Lya. That his 'master' had ordered your death."
"We have to warn the others," Phoebe said quietly.
An ambulance pulls up.
"Are you the one who called?" asks the driver, a young man with dark, curly hair. You remember him - and his partner - from the scene at the fundraiser for The Dive.
Lya nods and whispers "Start making phone calls," to Phoebe before stepping forward to greet the EMTs. "Yeah that's me. Our friend there has been jacked up with some seriously dangerous stuff that makes him a danger to himself and others. We managed to knock him out after he ran into the wall, but who knows how long he's going to stay unconscious before he loses it again."
She turns to the blonde EMT that Alex had talked about and takes her hand. "Please...if there's any way you can help him, it's not his fault... he just got caught in the crossfire."
"We'll do what we can," the blonde paramedic says. "Respiration is shallow and fast. Pulse ... 100. High end for patient's apparent age."
She attached a cuff to the man's arm and took his blood pressure. "BP, elevated, 160/85. Pupils pinpoint, normal response. Let's get him prepped for transport. Call General, have them advise."
As the driver calls it in, the blonde looks at you and says quietly, "Jotunblut?"
You nod in the affirmative.
"He's in for a rough time, then," she says. "Short of freeing his soul - and he won't be going to Valhalla - there's little I can do to help a mortal who's been empowered in this manner. I'm sorry."
"General says ringers lactate and transport," TJ interrupts. Not knowing that it isn't a conventional drug, he adds, "He'll be okay, Miss. We'll take care of him."
Lya runs a hand across her face and sighs. "They secretly take everything away from people and then publicly act like their saviors before using them and tossing them away... it's just not right," Lya mutters before turning back to Valeria.
"Maybe a quiet padded cell away from all this mess is the best he can hope for. At least he won't be living on the street. Thank you, Valeria."
There's a brief pause as they collapse the gurney and lift it into the ambulance.
"Be careful," she tells you. "The enemy has seen fit to send Einjehar and Jotunblut-thralls after you, Lya Bach. All of you have been fortunate. A storm is coming, and I fear it is the beginning of Fimbulwinter."
Lya sighs again. "Don't I know it... I see it on the streets every day. You be careful too, Valeria."
As the ambulance pulls away Lya turns back to Pheobe with a questioning glance.
"I've tried calling Alex, but I'm afraid all I got was a voice mail," Pheobe replies with a shake of her head.
Lya whips out her phone to give Evie a call and bites on her nail impatiently as the phone rings. "Come on...pick up...pick up..."
"In the meantime I suggest we get out of here," says Toxic as she thumbs over her shoulder to their van down the street.
The phone rings several times but Evie does, indeed, pick up. And, when she answers, her voice is not clouded by sleep. It sounds like she was already awake, "Lya, what's up?"
"Evie... thank your Gods! I was getting worried," Lya replies as Klepto gets behind the wheel and she and the rest of the Furies climb into the van. "Are you OK? We ran into an old Lobo acquaintance after the show tonight and it turns out he was made into a Jotunblut. Lyman and his assholes convinced this poor bastard that it was a new drug or something and left him living on the streets on the off chance that he might see us and take us out. If they're gunning for me, then you know they're going to be looking for the rest of us. Have you heard from the others?"
Evie sits down on the corner of her bed and heaves a sigh, "Gawds...this night just gets more and more full of suck."
"Yeah, some goon broke into my apartment. Tore the place up good but...it didn't end well for him. I'm going to be on leave for a few days while Internal Affairs sorts it out," she says. "A couple of officers are still here with me but I'm going to send them back out, soon. There's no need for them to stay here all night. It's not like I'm going back to sleep anytime soon."
Though she is fairly certain that the officers wouldn't be purposefully eavesdropping, Evie is still vague. She knows she can't talk too openly, right now. She doesn't want to make mention of "others" or drop any names.
"Damn.. glad you're ok, girl! Something big must be getting ready to happen if he's trying to take us all out like this. You want us to stop by or pick you up somewhere? Otherwise we're on the move and calling Alex and Hitoshi next."
"Yeah, actually, I think that is a good idea. It'll get me out of here and maybe take my mind off of things," Evie says that last part more for the benefit of officers who might hear. Being with Lya and the Furies will certainly not lessen Evie's worry, but it will mean that the team is at least partially together. Strength in numbers, and all that. Plus, they can all talk openly while riding in the van. "I'll get together an overnight bag. I don't think I want to stay here, tonight, either."
"Getting the group back together sounds like a good idea... we're on our way," Lya responds.
"We're heading over to Evie's place," Lya tells Klepto who nods and makes a quick turn down a side street.
(Piranha Club - Evie & Lya)
It was a Friday night. The Piranha Club was crowded and would likely continue to be so through the early hours of the morning. When the club closed at 4AM, all-nighters would spill out into the street and migrate to another location.
The club was aptly named, the glass façade and skyboxes giving the venue an aquatic feel. Moreover, there was enough activity reflected or projected to surround guests in transparent, almost ghostly images, as if the glistening flanks of the club's namesake were flitting about the room.
"We're in Skybox Five," Orithia said. "It's on the left side as you come in. You can't see it from the entrance, and it's next to an emergency exit."
"Excellent! Thanks, Orithia," Evie smiles at the Amazon as she gathers up her bags. Fortunately, the bag she grabbed for her clothes is a small one, not one of those giant, honking gym bags that some people have.
She whistles in appreciation as she walks through the club. She's only ever seen it from the outside. Despite the way the evening has been going prior to this point, she can't help but smile at the way the lights flicker and dance around the glass. Evie chuckles, "Okay, when this is all over, I want to visit the San Francisco aquarium."
Once everyone is settled into the skybox, the detective looks to Lya. Even though the place is crowded and there is music, she still keeps her voice pitched as low as possible and still be heard as she asks, "You said something about Jotunblut? What happened?"
"Klepto, keep an eye on the floor for anything unusual, would you please?" Lya asks as she offers her drummer the seat closest to the glass. "Phoebe, would you try calling Hitoshi?"
She sits down across from Evie and sighs. "Craziest thing... we were walking back to the van after our charity show for the food drive when we came across a homeless guy sleeping under some cardboard," Lya begins before leaning over to Toxic and whispering "Could you see if they have any Pumpkin Ales? Whatever you guys want is on me."
"Anyway," she begins again as Toxic nods and gets up to get drinks, "Phoebe wanted to give the guy some cash and I wasn't about to say no to a guy in need... so I tried to talk to the guy and it turns out he was one of the Lobos who we all ran into at the Soul Food Cafe. Turns out he was shot up with what he thought was a drug called... what was it, Orithia?"
"I think he called it Jolting Blue," the blonde replies.
"Yeah... and it left him so messed up that none of the shelters would take him," Lya continues with a frown. "We tried to help him but as soon as I mentioned my name he started losing control and changing, moaning about how 'his master had ordered my death."
Lya sighs. "He did his best to fight it and managed to avoid attacking me at first...but it was a losing battle. I was hoping there would be some way to get it out of his system and help him so Klepto knocked him out and I called 911. Lo and behold, Alex's girlfriend Valeria answered the call. She told me there wasn't any help for the poor guy though... so at best he's probably going to spend the rest of his life sedated in a padded cell."
Toxic returns with drinks and starts passing out beers to everyone, including a Sam Adams beer with the label "Norse Legend" for Evie.
She hands a Pumpkin Ale to Lya. "You're lucky the bartender is pretty," she chuckles as she sits down at the table.
"Once we had things under control Phoebe tried calling Alex but he didn't answer his phone. We then called you... and here we are. " Lya leans across the table with a worried look. "If you haven't heard from Alex... is there a way to use your cop influence to try and find him? I've got the feeling we're all being targeted tonight."
Evie grins as she notices the label on the beer that Toxic hands to her. "Darned tootin', I get legend. Booyah...or something. I don't know. What do Vikings say? Rawr?"
However, the detective's mood quickly sours as she listens to Lya's tale.
"Aw, shit," Evie curses quietly, running a hand over her face. Her lips press together in anger. She knew what an ass Lyman is. I mean, that was evident when he set fire to The Dive. But this...this makes her seethe quietly. Ruining someone's life just to set a trap for an enemy? Granted, the Lobos aren't exactly angels, but this is beyond contemptible. Also, Lyman was betting on Lya's kind heart to get her into trouble. That, also, pisses Evie off to no end.
She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and massages the bridge of her nose with two fingers. She calms herself, getting her emotions back under control. Focus on the problem, Evie.
"Okay, let's see...since I'm on leave while Internal Affairs sorts out the mess at my place, I'm not going to have access to any official resources. But. I might be able to call in some favors, if need be." She pauses and thinks before continuing, "Hopefully, we'll be able to get in touch with Hitoshi. Once we have the three of us together, we should probably swing by Alex's office and house to see what's what."
"If he's home and just asleep, he'll completely understand if we wake him up once we tell him what's going on. In fact, that's what I am hoping happens. Just knock on the door and he comes stumbling out, all bedhead and bleary eyes. But," she sighs, "I doubt we'll be that lucky."
"What do you think?"
"Yeah, going by his place sounds good to me. We can keep trying for Hitoshi while we go," Lya nods.
(Why Alex Didn't Answer the Phone)
Alex woke as his head banged against the floor. Which wasn't because of a nightmare, though the circumstances were clearly such. His arms were bound behind his back and he was being dragged, feet first, down a tunnel, and he hadn't a clue how this had come about.
He remembered dropping into the sack after being up for just over 24 hours, not entirely unusual for him. Rousing briefly to the sound of something crunching, maybe a car accident on the highway … then blackness. And here, wherever that was.
He was unceremoniously flung over someone's shoulder as they began to climb a rough-hewn staircase. It looked like they were in one of the storm drains running under the city, fortunately a dry one. A heavy metal door creaked open, slammed shut behind them.
He was thrown onto a table.
His captor was an ugly son-of-a-bitch, a low forehead over piggish eyes and a broken nose and several days' worth of body odor, which was decidedly rank.
"Sitja," he rumbled. He ambled over to the corner and drank deeply from a bowl whose contents sloshed mostly down his chest. A strip of jerky that looked more like a small steak was tossed into its maw and masticated in defiance of every parent's admonition not to chew with your mouth open.
"Where am I?" Alex asked.
A grunt.
"Who are you?" he tried.
Another grunt. No help there. Alex strained at his bonds, a tangle of steel chain and wire. Escaping wasn't a question of strength – there was no slack which he could use to snap or break them.
The sound of keys working in a lock – several locks – echoed briefly before another door opened, then closed, bolts being thrown back into place.
"Ah, Alex. Comfortable?" asked a familiar voice.
Lyman.
It was well known that you could see the lights of Las Vegas shining from a distance, but the fireball that blossomed out of one neighborhood was both spectacular and terrifying. The accompanying 'boom' rattled windows for several miles, and part of the city went dark as power lines fell.
The outage included the Piranha club, which was suddenly dark and silent, then lit by pips and glowing squares as people used their smartphones to illuminate their immediate surroundings.
"What in Zeus' name was that?" asked Toxic.
The exodus of patrons on the floor stopped as people began looking at their smartphones instead of using them for light. While the skybox was too far above the crowd to pick out detail, screens were lit by an orange flare, then the vague shapes of a news program.
Evie's phone vibrated and flashed with an incoming call, which she answered.
"Cartwright," she said. "Uh-huh. Oh, shit. On my way. Don't have my car, going to have to have friends drop me off, I guess. 10-4."
She hung up and ran her hand through her hair.
"There's been an explosion, apparently a gas main. Part of a neighborhood is gone and everything is on fire," she said. "It's all hands on deck. I have to report to the mobile command post."
"What neighborh—oh, damn," said Klepto. "Phoebe, you have Hitoshi on the phone, right? Which means … Alex."
"That bastard isn't going to be happy until he destroys the damn world," Lya growls as she slams her phone into her pocket. "Let's get Evie where she needs to go, guys... because I don't like this one bit. They send Jotunblut after us but destroy a city block for Alex? Definitely fishy..."
"Well, he did ask Alex what it would take to kill him," Orithia said. "And he's a son of Tyr, so it may be more closely bound up in their notions of the world's end."
"We'll see when we get there," Lya replies as they head out through the dark bar. "There's a good chance we might run into Valeria at the scene... if we do I definitely want to see if she can tell us anything. If she didn't collect Alex... she might know if someone else did."
"I hope Valeria has good news," Evie says as they hurry out of the bar. "I'll be happy as long as he's not dead."
Evie puts aside her anger, falling into emergency mode with ease. As they all pile into the van, she is all curt business and concern as she touches base with folks via her phone, trying to get an assessment of what to expect once she reaches the command post.
"Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to kill you," Lyman smiled. "Someone else has that honor."
"Soleil Hunter?" Alex said.
"How very insightful of you. I suppose she might preside over things, but … everything at the proper moment," the Son of Loki said. "Yours will be … impressive. Death to the Son of Tyr."
Alex's eyes widened both at the phrase, but the intonation. There was no denying Lyman had been the voice on the radio before the chopper had gone down.
"Don't miss," Alex snarled. "There's blood between us, Jason – if that's really your name. And there will be a reckoning."
"A pity you haven't the power to back those words up," Lyman laughed. "At first, I was concerned when I realized new Scions were coming to the fore. And then I realized your hapless band is barely invested in their powers. Rapid healing. Superior strength. It's a pity Soleil couldn't ply your mind like the others. It would have been amusing to have you working for us."
Alex strained against his chains briefly.
Lyman laughed. "You'll want to be careful with that. The chain is nothing special, but the wire? It's a bit like Sleipnir, only nastier. Not so much unbreakable as enchanted to be razor-sharp when strained against. You might break the chains, but you'll cut your hands off in the process. Your ability to heal won't help you there."
Alex glared at Lyman.
"Then again, I could be lying. It's a gift," Lyman smiled. "Only way to find out is to try it."
Alex let his shoulders sag as he feigned defeat. Lyman didn't buy it.
"You'll have the opportunity to try. I have things to attend to amidst the chaos," he said. "Still, I'll leave Surt here to watch over you."
Police cruisers were angled across the street, their lights flashing.
"That's not good," said Klepto. "Alex's place is behind the cordon."
"So's the MCP," Evie said. "Pull up, they'll have to let us through."
"Whoa, whoa, WHOA! Sorry, the street – hell, most of the neighborhood – is closed off," said an officer, coming up to the window. "Red Cross is set up in the parking lot by Target."
"They're my ride, Pete," Evie said, leaning into view and displaying her badge.
"Detective Cartwright?"
Evie smiled. "Was out with friends. Didn't have time to get my own car. I'm heading to the MCP."
"All right," Pete told her. "We'll call it in so you don't get hassled."
The neighborhood was engulfed in flames, with thick, black smoke rising to the sky.
"The enemy did this to get to Alex?" Orithia said disdainfully. "Cowards."
"Scorched earth," said Klepto. "Did someone crank this up to 11 when we weren't looking?"
"New game, new rules," said Toxic. "Lya, you'll have to start wearing body armor. Kevlar, Hephaestus' factory discards, whatever. The Furies will be armed."
"Gods...how many people? Asleep in their beds, dreaming and suddenly...just...," Evie whispers, torn between tears and pure fury. "Remind me again why I don't just find this asshole and put bullet between his eyes. Because, shit...I'm ready to. If I have to throw it all away...my life, my career... to stop this from happening again, I'll do it."
She takes a deep breath, shakes her head and closes her eyes for a second. Evie centers herself, again, and says, "Okay. I need to do whatever I can, here, to help. I don't know if the cops will let you stay after you drop me off. They'll probably kick you out."
"Maybe you can see if you can find Valeria. I'll keep an eye out for her, too, but who knows what they will assign me to do, at this point. I'll most likely be shuttled to wherever I'm needed most. So, I have no idea if I'll see her."
"Do you guys mind keeping my hard drive and journals? I can't be lugging them around with me. Honestly, I have no idea if there is anything in them that would be useful to Lyman, but I'm not taking any chances."
As she talks, she pulls up her T-shirt and starts pins her Magic Badge inside her bra. She then holds her sunglasses for a second and thinks before asking, "Do you guys have any medical tape or anything like that?"
"Triage," Toxic answers. "Basic field dressings, making splints, setting bones."
"I have a First Aid certification, but this is beyond that," Phoebe said.
Evie nods curtly. As she throws on the vest, she says, "Chief, my friends here know some first aid. They're not paramedics or anything, but I figure that we can use all the help we can get. They're good people. I trust them to do right by everyone here."
The troll bumbled about, tending to a fire and cooking something that had squealed a moment before there was a dry-twig snapping sound.
"What's for dinner?" Alex asked. "Rat?"
"Meat," muttered Surt.
"Good stuff," Alex said.
"Hunh. Good stuff," Surt agreed.
With Surt concerned more with cooking his food than guarding him, Alex strained against his bonds, testing them. It would be ironic if some kind of monofilament or enchanted wire sliced his hands off, but Lyman had acknowledged that Alex and the others were just coming into their powers. So why go to extremes, unless there was more to the story? Why draw Lya, Hitoshi, and Evie into all of this, unless they were in a position to interfere, and had the power to stop the Titans?
He strained against his bonds, enough to test them. He felt no trickle of warmth down his arms, nothing to suggest Lyman's threat was real. And then he realized it was a puzzle, a test. He worked his arms back and forth, listening to the sound of the chains.
And the rattle of a padlock.
Something he might be able to smash or which would give way before razor-sharp wire cut through his wrists …
(Hitoshi)
Hearing the tone of urgency in Phoebe's voice, you snap awake.
"Phoebe. What's wrong?"
"Trouble," she answers. "Lya was attacked. So was Evie. There was a gas main explosion in Alex's neighborhood, it's cordoned off. There has to be a nasty surprise waiting for you, as well."
"Hold" Hitoshi says softly. His hand went to his cane as he quietly moved in bed, his senses alert for anyone moving in the house. Feeling his cane, he softly rolls out of bed, as his eyes instantly adjust to the darkness in the house. Thanks to his new gift from Izanagi, lights were no longer needed to see by. Night was like day to him at this moment.
From the upstairs balcony, you watch as two figures splash something about the living and dining room. One steps into the backyard, while the other pays a brief visit to the kitchen ...
(Evie and Lya)
"… five houses at ground zero. If there are any survivors, it'll be a miracle," said the Chief. "Another ten on fire, families evacuated safely. We're going through the neighborhood door-to-door, call outs on the loudspeakers, wake everyone up and get them the hell out of here. We're expecting air tankers in the next thirty minutes."
The map pinned to the bulletin board was a city-planning street view showing individual lots, with ground zero demarked in orange highlighter, and a secondary perimeter in fluorescent yellow. The neighborhood had been further quartered and marked with a Sharpie.
"Cartwright, you're back on active," the Chief said, handing her a day-glo safety vest and a police-grade flashlight. "Work with 7 Paul 10 and 12 on the door-to-doors in Quadrant 2."
Keeping his voice barely above a whisper Hitoshi lets Phoebe know whats going on. "I have visitors. I hope they don't have kids, otherwise I'm going to feel bad about what I do next. Give me Ten, then call back."
Turning off his phone he lays it on his bed before unsheathing Honjo Masamune. One hand palming the railing he leaps over it. Landing he goes into a tuck and roll ending with him back on his feet as he brings the sword across striking the man in the dining room in the neck. The man barely has time to register a surprised look on his face before the keen blade flashes through his neck. He has just enough time to gurgle and reach up as a thin red line slowly appears where the blade passed. As the light dies in the man's eyes, his head topples to the floor.
Hitoshi catches he body and slowly lays it down. Quietly he steps into the shadows, listening for the other intruder.
"We're done here, man," comes a voice from the kitchen. "Let's light it off."
The second man steps back out into the dining room, but does not see his associate on the patio.
"Fuck, man, where'd you go?" he mutters. "Fuck."
And then he notices the tang in the air. The smell of blood. And meat. He looks down to see his partner's head on the floor, sightless eyes staring back at him, and blood seeping into the carpet.
He screams and starts to run. Except the carpet is already damp with accelerant, and he slips, falling face-forward onto the floor. He continues to scrabble towards the patio door
Shaking his head Hitoshi walks towards the man, his blade still dripping blood. Yanking a chair out from the dining room table he slams the 4 legs down on either side of the man's torso so that his arms are in between the legs, and then sits in it, pinning the man to the floor. Quietly he taps the man on the neck with the flat of the blade.
"Lets you and I have a chat. If you impress me, you might get to live and go into police custody. If you don't... Well, you did break into my house with the intent of burning it down" Hitoshi's voice is low and menacing.
Just then Matty's voice echoes from upstairs. "Hitoshi, what in the fuck is going on?!"
"Matty, go back to bed, you saw none of this. These men were going to kill us by setting the house on fire.
One is dead, and the other one is going to tell me everything he knows."
He looks down at the man pinned below him. "Because he doesn't want to end up like his partner... Am I right?"
"What do you mean, 'one is dead?'" Matt exclaims. "Hitoshi! Oh, my god. Oh, god."
He gulps loudly, and you realize he's looking down from the upstairs balcony.
"Oh, god, I so did not see that," he exclaims. "I am Going Back to Bed!"
He walks away, then returns.
"And I am not helping to clean that up!"
"Fuck you, puta cabron," says the man on the floor. "You're gonna kill me either way. Won't solve your problems. Won't save your friends."
He laughs.
"I thought it was all bullshit, until I saw stuff, man, shit you can't explain, not even that asshole on History Channel talking about aliens. Right? The Norse gods are really space aliens, right? What part of Valhalla do the Japs come from?"
Hitoshi chuckles. "Yea, we don't really come from Valhalla. Not really sure where we go when we die. Anyway, that's neither here nor there."
He pins the man's right wrist to the floor with his foot and puts the tip of Honjo Masamune against the man's thumb.
"So, Here's how this is gonna go, and be aware, I've already sunk to torturing someone, AND I just killed your friend. There really ARE three ways out of this. the first one is you actually get to go with the cops and live another day, the second is I kill you Swiftly, and the third is I torture the fuck out of you before I kill you."
He puts a little pressure on the blade so it barely slices the man's thumb at the web.
"Who the fuck sent you?"
There's a through-gritted-teeth sound of undeniable pain. Honsho is, of course, not just sharp, but razor sharp. It slices, it dices, and it can turnanything into julienne fries.
"El Jefe. Mario, man, fucking Mario," says your guest. "But he's like, taking orders from that creepy-ass dude, Lyman. And Lyman has this fucking hard-on for you and your friends, wants you all out of the way, and that means dead, I guess."
"My fucking luck I get goddamn Raiden or whatever," he adds. "Wanted to do that lawyer dude, just to make a point, but they said, no, he's too tough, right? Took three or four cop-killers in the chest, fucking gets up and has dinner like it was an Airsoft gun."
Hitoshi takes pressure off the sword. "Now see? You answer my questions, and no more slicey-dicey, julienne human. Oh yes."
He whacks the man in the head with the flat of the blade, HARD.
"That's for your Pal's blowing up a neighborhood just to get to one of us. I'm game for you fucks trying to kill me, and I'm sure Alex is as well, but DON'T fucking bring innocents into this or we will fuck your gang so hard your ancestors one thousand years ago will say Ow. Get me? And the only reason I'm hitting you is because I can't currently hit them, I'm sure you will pass it on at some point for me. Anyways, moving on, Oh also, Raiden? No, My father is Hachiman. Raiden might be my uncle... maybe. Why is that important you might ask? I'll explain why. When I was twenty three, My best Childhood friend Akane called me. The Yakuza had her in the sex slave trade, and she needed help. anyways, she died right before my eyes. In retaliation, I killed, well I stopped counting after the first dozen, and I know there were many more before I reached the man I was actually pissed at. How many do you have in your gang?"
"Blowing up a neighborhood? What the fuck are you talking about?" your house guest asks. "And fuck, you're one of them? A child of a god? Why couldn't I have gotten picked to mess with Aphrodite or something?"
"But, mano, you think you're gonna take us all on? We have 'gods' on our side, too. Unless you're gonna start pulling monsters out of thin air, you got nothing on Lyman."
"Dude, you must have not been at the Casino that night, I KILLED one of your so called monsters in less than thirty seconds, okay, maybe one minute, but still, it was rather easy. As for summoning monsters, yea, i'll give you that one, I can't... yet. Maybe I won't ever be able to, but if I ever can, you gotta ask yourself... Do you really want to be in the middle of two people who can do such a thing, especially when one of them is the son of the greatest Japanese God swordsman and tactician that ever was around? If I wasn't who I am, I certainly wouldn't. I'd be leaving Las Vegas pretty damn quick."
Hitoshi reached for Matty's pack of smokes and then remembers the gas all over the carpet. "Damn, just when I wanted a smoke."
He sighs. "You know, you and your whole gang are just pawns in this whole deal. Lyamn will throw you away like drops of blood off the edge of my sword. He doesn't give one fuck about you. at least I and my friends do our own dirty work."
He reached for the remote and turns on the TV to the news where it's showing the aftermath of the explosion.
"See that? That's the handiwork of your buddies. Innocents is the term, and Lyman doesn't give a fuck about them. Speaking of that, you tried to burn my house down. Did Lyman tell you I have a housemate? I do. Guess what? He's not involved in any of this; all he does is live here and pay rent. He's almost family to me. You got any Kids, or Family, Maybe a Mother you love so much? How'd you like me to go after them after I'm done with you? It's the same damn thing."