The Big-Oh! II -- RPG Thread

[The Big Finale]

The hand stopped half an inch from what it was seeking, but it didn't move back out into the open. Vera's mouth flattened into a line at the command. He'd noticed her, naturally. Such motions didn't go ignored among like individuals. She did have to admit the similarity between them, as he spread more of the dangerous material on the ground. It was apparent that they both shared a taste for destruction. Still, he was a slave to the accursed Paradigm, most likely one of Rosewater's favored tomatoes. Sympathy? There was none. Not for him. Not for any of them.

"You want answers? This is what I have to give you."

The fingers closed, wrapping themselves around tough leather, and Vera leaned forward as her arm swung out, a streak of brown cord trailing it and extending across the rooftop to strike like a snake at Irwin's hands. As the first snap resounded, she pulled the whip back, twirled it over her head, and lashed out again, and again.

[Tifaria]

Damn.  She hated when they were perceptive.  Usually most people didn't bother arguing with Angel.  Of course, most of the people she duped tended to be men, and, well... persuading men to give her what she wanted was quite different than dealing with women.  Unfortunately, Angel was going to have to do more talking than usual with Emilia.  The problem was, the girl wanted the truth, and Angel had never been very good at telling the truth.  That tended to happen when one was trained as an agent of the Union.      

"You're right.  My name was not Angel when I worked for Rosewater.  Surely I wasn't the only Paradigm employee to be using an alias."  She couldn't help but glance at Vanguard's book, out of Emilia's grasp but still too far from Angel.  "As far as my name is concerned, Angel will do just fine."  She paused, unsure of how to continue.  "I was.. terminated.. from Rosewater's employment following a conflict of interest."  That sounded innocent enough.  "As for the old man's memories.. I don't really care what they are.  I'm just doing my job to find memories before Rosewater does and report them to my superiors."  Angel wasn't sure what more she could say.  Anything else would give Emilia too much information, if she hadn't already.

Against her better judgment, Angel lowered herself to the floor, kneeling at Emilia's level.  "So, Miss Townshend, it appears we are at a stalemate.  I will say this, however.  You may not want me to have those memories, and I can't really blame you for holding onto them so stubbornly.  But you can't let Rosewater have them either, and if that means hiding them from your father, so be it.  The truth.. the truth is that those memories mean more than anything else to Alex Rosewater, and it's only a matter of time before someone from the Paradigm Co. comes looking for them."  

Well, that was odd.  It didn't sound like she'd lied very much at all.

[D]

One strike. The force of the blow bruised Irwin's left hand, and forced the other to launch an ignited stream of flames. The roof was instantly alight, in a glorious instant in the distance the building would appear as the Olympic Torch of old. Olympic, another memory. Irwin ran back down the stairway, avoiding the further whippings. He then jumped out the window and stretched out his legs, sliding then tumbling down the gap. He landed with all the grace of a stunted bird, but the impact was relatively light. He took the Metron out, checked it, and put it in the pocket of his pants.

Harold Werrington stood up, looked up, and tore the gasmask off his face. He took off his hat and reversed it, and looked at the flamethrower in his hands. He created a wall of fire on the streetside entrance to the gap, removed the coat, and proceeded threw a backway, holding the damn evidence in his arms. The flamethrower was a bit tough to conceal, but he managed to make it all look like some sort of wrapped package underneath his arm of more innocent contents.

He made it out of the dome, somehow. Hailed a taxi, back to his place. He slunk into his office, threw the stuff in the corner, and dragged himself out and up into his room. For a guy who wasn't exactly struggling, it was pretty shabby. Simple, pragmatic. He collapsed on the bed, seeing half dreams of burning rooftops and the sky filled with silhouettes.

[Xel]

Beck must've been confident. Of course, maybe he was just an idiot, to break out of prison and completely fail to disguise himself, to be incarcerated in the first place for attempting the same crime in the same location twice... Whichever it was didn't really matter to Alan. Both suited him just fine.

Did he work here... Really. The man had eyes, didn't he? But, of course: "I hadn't figured the rogue Jason Beck to spend his remaining free days with his nose in books. A church would make a much better refuge."

It was abundantly clear that Beck wasn't after books at all.

"I'm nothing but a Paradigm lapdog," he attempted to reply in that same mild tone, but his voice broke as a laugh interposed itself mid-sentence. Not to be deterred by the sight of the most wanted criminal in the city, Alan turned on his heel and continued his trek towards the door to the library proper.

[Gummi]

It was as if two like forces were facing one another, neither was making any forward progress and both were just being pushed farther from their goal. Angel was right, time was running short. She knew that if an outsider like Angel knew of Mr. Vanguard's memories, that the knowledge of their existence had, most likely, been pumped through Paradigm's valves as well. Emilia's father had mentioned to her long ago, that there was not one occurrence that Alex Rosewater was not privy to. Emilia was not entirely certain of the veracity of this, however, Alex Rosewater was a business man with an investment to protect. She realized that memories were precious, especially to Paradigm Corporation.

Emilia saw a certain nobility about Angel. She knew that perhaps it was unwise to assume this about a woman who seemed to be concealing even her true identity but there was a quality about her that was so benine, it almost seemed comforting to her. Perhaps for once spellbinding instant Emilia saw her mother's face in Angel's. The resemblance was in the eyes, mostly. Emilia's memory of her mother had been quietly fading away, yet Emilia could never forget her eyes. Emilia readied herself to make a deal with Angel, then, she noticed someone.

Emilia caught a glimpse of what looked like another man, beyond Angel. A gentlemen in a pinstriped suit, bottomed out by abnormally thin legs, was hovering around the entrance to the library. Emilia could not make him out but she was certain he was not affiliated with either the university nor the police. He might have come with Angel and Jason...but Emilia doubted that Angel would be so careless as to inform yet another person of these memories. All Emilia was certain of was that this situation was not looking good. Emilia planted a worried glaze upon Angel, signifying that her momentary silence was an armistice.

"Angel," Emilia whispered with a now frantic gravity, "are you certain that you and Jason were alone?"

Emilia silently gestured over to the entrance of the library, where she also observed Beck's silhouette, as well. He seemed ill at ease, but not entirely perturbed.

Emilia's voice quivered as she peered down towards Mr. Vanguard "Or do you think that Paradigm has ready sent someone?"

[Tifaria]

A church?  What the hell was that supposed to mean?  This guy didn't exactly strike him as the church-going type.  Beck frowned and scratched his head, unable to think of a suitable response to that.  The man simply continued walking as if Beck hadn't been there at all, and before Beck could do anything, the door was opened.  He saw Angel's back and Emilia's worried face, and yet he simply stood there, uncertain as to why he was hesitating.  His cigar fell from his hand.

They should have come sooner.  She had been too careless this time.  She didn't even need to turn around to see who it was.  She only wondered if he really was here on Rosewater's orders, or if he was serving his own agenda today.

"We came alone, but we were too late."  Angel shivered slightly, her back stiffening.  Turning around to face him would be the smart thing to do, but she did not want him to have the satisfaction of seeing her scared.  And yet she found herself turning anyway, carefully, no sudden movements involved.  Maintaining her composure was painful.  Instinctively, she started to reach for her gun, but hesitated, her hand stopping in midair for a split second.  Not enough for a normal human to notice, but Alan surely would have.   In that case, better to go ahead and grab the damn thing than try to pretend she wasn't armed.

Beck was behind him in the hallway, looking a bit ill and dazed.  Had Alan already done something to him?  He appeared unharmed, but he was standing a good distance away, partially obscured by the blur of stripes making its way towards her.      

"Stop right there, Alan!"  Her voice was stern, but her hands shook as they pointed the gun at him.  She took a step back, in front of Emilia and the corpse of Mr. Vanguard.  

[Roger Smith]

Roger found himself descending a ladder running down into the bowels of the earth. What had possessed him to follow this path to the dark and foreboding chasms of reality wasn't an issue at the moment. What mattered was surviving the sinister primordial forces and terrors that ruled this netherworld, and already he felt his mind struggling against the nearing demonic presence that lurked there. He told himself quietly, "I have to keep hold of my faculties... it's the only way I'll be able to make it back in one piece." He paused, his hand clutching a rung, quivering in fear, as if unwilling to let him proceed any further. And honestly, what was the point in going willingly to your doom? He was about to change his mind and begin climbing when he heard something that chilled him to his bones.

"Who said anything about going back?"

'That voice-!'

His throat clenched as he felt the ladder give way, ringing as it snapped away from the wall, his stomach knotting from the sensation of falling into the hellish void. He tried to cry out in frustration and terror, his mind clutching at the last moments of life, but his voice didn't want to work. Would even his death cry be denied him?

He landed on something solid in the blackness, but as he scrambled to his feet, he wasn't sure this was anything to feel grateful about. Something wanted to make his last moments a tortuous ordeal. An apparition came to view in the darkness, and he realized the source of that voice with a start, as there could only be one being to torment him in this bleak, lonely moment.

Schwarzwald!

The wraith was standing on a whirlpool of stars, spiraling into oblivion, facing Roger as he rode that bizarre cycle of destruction, as if presiding over the very end of the universe. "There is no turning back from the Truth, Paradigm lapdog! What makes you think you're above facing the Judgment to come! There will be no negotiations when the books are opened, and the Truth laid bare!"

Roger forgot how afraid he should be as he rebelled at the absurdity of the circumstance. "I'll not be judged by the likes of you! No madman has the right to even think of himself as qualified to weigh the worth of anyone's life!"

But he shuddered at what the maniac said in reply. "Who else is more worthy than the one who has actually witnessed the Truth!"

Roger nearly fell down from the shocking implications, and he gasped in alarm, "You... know what happened... forty years ago?!"

The maniac simply laughed at his question as if it was self-evident, spreading his arms dramatically as he called, "Big Duo."

There was an explosion which rocked the entire world as the red Megadeus roared up from below, the blast of wind knocking Roger from his feet. Flames were everywhere. The city was in utter ruin, and most of the people had died from the cataclysm. Roger tried to make sense of it all, shielding his eyes from the flames. No... from the reality all around him. It was just too horrible to bear. "What's happening?!"

"You world is being judged by fire! The Flames of Judgment will reduce the lies of your so-called reality to ashes!" Schwarzwald was high above him, standing in the ruins of his mansion. He watched helplessly as the villain kicked open the door to his safe, dangling precariously in the wreckage, the wealth inside pouring into the inferno below. He laughed at Roger's reaction. "Will your money save you, Paradigm fool?! How can it? It's just paper!" He threw a bundle of it, striking Roger in the face, and as he caught it, he realized how true it was. "Money only has value because everyone thinks it has value! But it's really nothing but a pretty pattern on a slip of parchment! Make believe value, just as real as your make believe world!" Roger watched in shock as Big Duo struck the University Library with his fist, spilling the priceless contents into the flames. "People kill for money, while ignoring the true value of this world!"

The Negotiator cried in shock, "Stop it! The Memories-!"

"Why do you pretend to care about Memories so much," Schwarzwald interrupted, "when you defend the facade your kind has built over this world to shield them from the Truth! You want the falsehood instead! Admit it!"

Somehow in that moment, he could see Paradigm as Schwarzwald did, as a cheap lie laid down over the world as it really was, a system of superstitious beliefs and made up memories to fill the void of ignorance. He came to himself and exclaimed, "But... it's out of necessity! We need something to fill our minds! We have to have some kind of world to live in!"

"How pathetic, and you of all people, entrusted with the title of Negotiator! You choose lies to hide behind, because the Truth would crush you!" The wraith beckoned to the wrecked mansion. "Big O, show him!"

Roger swallowed in fear, as he knew deep inside how true that was, and cried in false outrage, "How dare you! Big O is not your friend-!" But abruptly, he found himself in the throne of the Dominus, the console of the Megadeus humming all around him.

But this wasn't a sanctuary, as Roger realized with a start Schwarzwald was there beside him. He asked mockingly, "Is Big O truly your friend?? Or is he a mass murderer like you are?" He lunged across the Negotiator, blurting out, "What does this button do?"

"Stop it!" Roger cried, trying to fend the putrid fiend off, but it was too late. He watched in horror as the beam of the Chromebuster lanced out, slicing skyscrapers in half and crushing the people, huddled inside for safety. Blinking back tears of rage, he grabbed the madman by the tattered lapels of his jacket, driving the both of them through the cockpit window to perch on the Megadeus' shoulder. "You depraved lunatic! I'll destroy you!"

Schwarzwald merely leered up at him. "So, your true nature is revealed. You really are a destroyer, aren't you! The mere mention of what might have happened forty years ago is enough to reducing you to a jibbering fool!"

Roger blinked at him incredulously, running his hands through his hair in exasperation. "Y-you mean... none of this is real?!"

"Fool! I told you! The real Truth would crush you! And the truth is, your inactivity is causing Memories to pass from this world forever! One by one, they perish! Behold!"

And out in the wastes of Paradigm, Roger was witness to another series of tragedies as he saw a young woman weeping over the body of an old man, clutching a book in her arms. Elsewhere, an old engineer passed away as his loved ones watched tearfully, his body badly wounded in a calamity, one of the few who knew about the Megadei. And what gripped Roger by the throat, he saw Angel in the hands of some cackling witch, her clothes torn and bloodied as the maniacal woman lashed her mercilessly, crying out in agony. "Oh my God... I have to save her!"

Schwarzwald merely laughed contemptuously. "What a joke! To think that a destroyer can become a savior! Besides, it is too late! There is no negotiating with Judgment!" Roger turned away from the maniac, thinking that at least he had to rescue Angel, but he froze as he heard a banging against Big O's armored hull, and turned in shock to see Schwarzwald pounding on the crown with a sledgehammer, the metal beginning to crack. "Now... to unveil the final Memories, and bring an end to this world of LIES!"

Roger's knees buckled as he heard terrible sounds leaking out of those spreading cracks, and tried to beg the madman to stop. "No! Big O... don't remember that!" But it was too late, the hull shattering, and the screams of terror and blinding glare overwhelmed him. And it was impossibly cold...

He gasped out a cry, clutching himself and blinking in the light, shivering from fear and chill, and it took several moments to come to his senses. He was... he had no idea where he was, and stammered anxiously, "Wh... where am I now??" He pushed himself up to a sitting position and when his eyes focused, he sat there, stricken with shock.

The building had collapsed, and he was huddled in the debris against a partly intact wall. His mind reeled with terrified notions as he scrambled to his feet, gasping as the rubble stung his bare feet. He was further stunned to see that he was wearing only his pajamas. At least it was daylight, perhaps the early afternoon, the only remotely comforting fact he could cling to.

But he truly had no clue what had happened. He fought to remain calm, trying to piece things together, but the last thing he remembered was that horrible dream. "At least, I hope it was a dream," he muttered, looking around and calling, "Schwarzwald?" He heaved a sigh of relief as there was no answer. "That's two things to be thankful for. But... what the hell happened??"

He was somewhere in the outlying ruins of... he hoped it was Paradigm City, but it had to be, and slowly, he noticed reassuring clues. He could hear the distant banging of the reconstruction workers, relentlessly dismantling the blasted ruins of the old buildings to reuse the material, and there over the skyline, he could see the sturdy Domes of Paradigm. But still... he was at a loss as to explain what had transpired. "This has to be the most extreme case of sleepwalking ever... if that's what happened." It was as if an angel had plucked him from his bed to abandon him in some remote place. He had to smile at the association. "If only Angel were here to rescue me, but wouldn't that create a bizarre scene-"

He stopped short as he heard a sound behind him, turning to see a thug approaching him with a knife in his hand. "I ain't no angel, that's fer damn sure, but I could use a little offering..." His voice trailed off as he saw how his victim was dressed, then recognized who he was and blurted out, "Smith?! And let me guess, you ain't got a friggin' dime on ya!" As Roger began to respond in a disarming way, he was cut short as the rogue edged closer. "Shaddup. A rich guy's gotta be worth somethin' to someone, even to yerself! Now just come along nice as ya please and there won't be any trouble-"

But Roger wasn't in the mood to deal with such a low life, grabbing the man by the wrist and throwing him face first to the rubble, his arm twisted painfully behind his back as the Negotiator planted his knee in the hooligan's spine. Forcing the knife out of his hand, Roger growled to him, "I don't have time to explain this unusual circumstance, not that it's any of your business anyway, but as you can see I'm in need of some clothes. I figure giving me your shoes and coat is the least you can do in exchange for not turning you in, along with a promise you won't do this again. Right?"

"Hey, can't we negotiate this-?" Roger strained his arm in response and he yelped out, "Okay okay, just a little joke!"

He managed to get the shoes off but when he let the robber up, he bolted into the wreckage, and Roger sighed, "Well, that's gratitude for you." He grumbled as he forced the ill fitting footwear on, "Can't criminals afford decent shoes? I guess not. At least it isn't raining..." His voice trailed off as thunder rumbled in the overcast sky, and he made his way out to the crumbling sidewalk as cold drops began to fall. "Oh, perfect... how am I ever going to live this down? I just hope no one sees me like this-"

As if on cue, someone appeared. "Oy, I wouldn't go round these parts dressed like that. Ya might end up in a fix you won't want to share with your mates." The Negotiator sighed in resignation as a young chap sauntered over, but his grin faded when he saw who he was approaching. "Say, you... Roger Smith?? Has there been any trouble?"

He replied with a faint smile, "You could say that. I just got these shoes, and they don't suit me at all."

The man gave him a dubious look, but it chose to finally rain in earnest just then, and Roger was grateful as he opened a most welcome umbrella, hugging himself for warmth as the two crowded under it. "Come on then, I'll see you home. And... if you're in the mood, maybe you can say just what the devil is up."

Roger didn't know what to tell him, and he frowned, doing a lot of sidewalk watching as they went along. "I know I went to bed just before dawn. How I wound up back there... I have no clue. I can be a deep sleeper, but nothing like this." He mulled over that dream and wondered... could Schwarzwald have had something to do with this?

"I don't suppose rich food contributes to sleepwalking," the man offered with a grin, then looked up, evidently seeing the mansion just a block away. "Listen chap, I don't mean to leave you in the lurch like this, but you're practically at your tea right now and I'm running late. Perhaps you could invite me in sometime. Take care."

Roger blinked as he turned on his heels, running back down the way he'd come. "Hey, wait! I don't even know your name!" He shrugged resignedly as the man with the Norman-like accent hurried on without a backward glance, muttering, "Well... I'd better get to that tea before I'm soaked through."

'Or before I embarrass myself further,' he thought as he dashed across the street and down the remotely maintained sidewalk leading to the mansion. He splashed his way up the steps which were now a little waterfall from the runoff, pressing the buzzer and standing there shivering, hugging himself as the weather refused him any relief. "This is just great... locked out of my own home, and wearing my pee-jays in the rain, no less." He shouted up the face of the building as if that would hurry his butler along. "NORMAN?!"

[The Big Finale]

There was a thundering in the dark skies and the world outside the domes was drenched. Shortly thereafter...

BZZT.

Norman looked up from placing the last part of breakfast, a small cup of tea with steam rising from inside for Dorothy. A visitor? Well, it was certainly to be expected, given how late in the day it was. However, the Negotiator they were doubtlessly here to see was still in bed, and couldn't give his permission for anyone to enter. The guest would simply have to be turned away, regardless of their business. Norman straightened his coat and hustled his way to the ground floor. It was raining and dreary, and it'd be altogether wrong to leave someone waiting outside in this kind of weather.

...

A minute later, locks clicked and switched, and Norman swung a door open to reveal a thoroughly rained-upon and miserable looking man in pajamas, wet black hair tangled and sticking to his skin. He stared at the figure, eyebrows raised, hardly believing his eyes. It couldn't be. But it was.

"Master Roger? But, I thought..." His voice and words left him abruptly, and the butler put a hand to Roger's soaked back, quickly guiding him inside and shutting the door.

[Jim Starluck]

Michale navigated the marble-floored halls of Paradigm University with a rapid pace and uncanny ability to avoid obstacles even with his nose buried in the ancient tome cradled in his hands. His eyes devoured the text with a hunger for knowledge rarely seen in someone so young, and every so often he muttered theoretical calculations under his breath. So fascinated was he with the book that when he finally arrived at the library, he managed to completely ignore the unfolding drama taking place; a corner of his mind registered the presence of other people in the room but that was about as much as he could be bothered with.

He glanced up from the book for the first time since he had opened it in his lab halfway across campus, only looking away to follow the numbers on the shelves to the section where his colleague had found it. It was clearly only the first book in a volume, and if there were more and they were just as incredible as the first, it would be a veritable tresure-trove! He couldn't begin to imagine how such a valuable Memory had gone unnoticed in the middle of Paradigm U's (understandably, the school's name was never, EVER abbreviated to its bare initials) main library. Regardless of how it got there, if he managed to work out the underlying theory behind what the book described it could be the single greatest scientific achievement in forty years!

All he needed to do was find the other volumes, the ones that covered the theoretical knowledge that this one described applications for. He didn't think much of personal glory, but a corner of his mind was giddy at the idea that he--the formerly inconsequential Michale Essen, undergraduate student in Paradigm U's advanced physics program--would be forever enshrined in the university's history for his astounding discovery. He might even be tapped to work with the Paradigm Science Group, where he would have access to the most comprehensive accumilation of Memories in the city and all of the most advanced laboratory equipment neccessary to employ his new-found knowledge...

He still hadn't realized that the people he had passed on his way in with nary a thought would probably throw a Megadeus-grade monkey wrench into his dreams of knowledge and prestige.

------

Laura Atherin did not think of herself as terribly important in the grand scheme of things. She was just another inhabitant of Paradigm City, who lived in an apartment three times more expensive than its size warranted simply because it was Inside the Domes, and who drove to work every day to type away at her computer for the Paradigm Corporation.

Her life had been routine almost since she had graduated high school. She had gotten a data entry position with a small buisness, and the only thing that had changed over the years was the place she drove to. Only a few events really stuck out in her mind as something to be remembered.

The most prominent one was, obviously, was the battle between the Red and Black Megadeuses. She and a couple dozen other secretaries, clerks and receptionists had gathered by a large window near their cubicles. Being halfway up the side of the Paradigm Building had given them an excellent view, and they'ed watched the whole fight. Laura had shuddered at the damage the two battling machines were wreaking on the city and prayed no-one she knew was caught in the cross-fire.

The next was that guy from the diner she had dated for a few weeks, Jim. She didn't recall his last name, though it was something odd. He had just vanished not too long after the attack by the Red Megadeus, and she was still sore that he hadn't at least given her a phone call or left a note at her apartment or something. Still, it had been nice while it had lasted. He was a decent enough guy, and sore as she was she wished he was still around.

Though if he showed up on her doorstep with an excuse and a bouqet of roses she'd rip his balls out through his nose and dump him out her 12th-story window.

The final oddity wasn't anything she could put her finger on, but for as long as she could remember, she had felt like she was--or should be--part of something bigger, something more important. The logical side of her mind told her that there wasn't much more important than the Paradigm Corporation in this city, but she felt that whatever it was came from beyond the city. She had spent many an evening on the observation deck at the top of the Dome her apartment was in, just gazing out into the western wastes, wondering what might be out there.

She pondered all of this as her hands typed automatically at her keyboard, methodically filling out the records request forms and sending copies off in triplicate. Why the Paradigm Science Division wanted to know about the status of the city's power grid she had no idea, but that wasn't her job.

"Hey, Laura!" The voice snapped her out of her reverie and she looked to the entrance to her cubicle. Several women and a few men were standing there, looking eager. The one in front had a letter in her hand, which she held out for Laura to take. "This came in from the front desk for you."

Laura blinked, and took the envelope. It wasn't unusual for people in the department to get letters from other departments delivered to them, but one from the front desk was an oddity. As she reached for her letter-opener she spotted the name on the return address and her eyebrows shot up. She quickly opened the envelope, pulled out the letter and read.


Laura,

I'm sorry I left so suddenly and that I didn't send any word, but things happened beyond my ability to control. I've been away for some time, and now I need your help.

I can't say any more here, since I don't know who might read this before you do. We need to talk in person. Please meet me at the corner of West 122nd Street and Clairemont Ave, tonight, at 8:15 PM. Come alone, and I will explain everything.

Hoping to see you soon,

Jim


She had hoped to hear from him again, but to say that it wasn't what she had expected was an understatement. She slowly lowered the letter, puzzled, and then noticed that the small crowd was still outside her cubicle, apparently waiting to see her reaction. She glared at them. "What?" she snapped, suddenly annoyed. The crowd blinked. "Go on, show's over." They slowly began to disperse, the women exchanging theories on what the letter said and some of the men exchanging cash. Laura rolled her eyes, then looked back at the letter.

Well, it's not like I have anything planned for tonight... she thought to herself.

[Gummi]

Dorothy.

   Dorothy preferred to walk in the rain. After all she could not derive any discomfort it. She was soaked, through and through. With her clothes saturated with water, her wet auburn hair stringing and sticking to her face, she proceeded along the sidewalks of Paradigm City on her way home. It had not dawned on the android that her behavior was highly unusual, however at the moment logic did not prevail over the baser instruction of her own free will. Dorothy had a desire.

 Why did you create me this way, Dr. Waynewright. Dorothy even chose, at times, not to try to comprehend why she functioned the way she did. Though she was, by creation, a curious creature even she experienced a sort of fear. A fear not dissimilar to the fear experienced by humans upon deep introspection; a fear about the truth of one's own being.

  Dorothy arrived at Smith Mansion, soaked. Not just her person, but the groceries, as well. Once Dorothy caught sight of her mistake she knew that she would have to request that Norman examine her memory. She certainly could not be functioning properly.

  Although she wasn't the only person who arrived home, worse for wear. Roger was in his bed clothes, looking as poorly as a wet kitten. Dorothy studied him, then analyzed Norman's reaction.

"Why were you out and about dressed in your bed clothes? It's raining out, you know." Inquired Dorothy, looking herself like a porcelain doll that had just been doused with water. "You are so strange, Roger Smith."

[Xel]

Rain seeped into their dingy basement, trickling from the edges of the windows down the stone wall. You could smell the must, everything moist. It would only be a matter of time before the mold moved in, but by then they would be gone again, to some other place.

Alan sat on the damp sofa, glumly nursing scotch and a broken arm, skimming files that he had little patience for. The old coffee table in front of him felt sticky under his bare feet. Everything bored him here: the rain, the sticky table, his own condition. This place made him want to jump out of his skin.

Though aware of the danger--the military police on alert in the wake of the incident that had caused his broken arm in the first place--Alan wanted out. He wanted something better to do, but he'd have to be stealthy about it, too. 340 was too aware of his proclivities already, too cognizant and appreciative of the fact that he should be the responsible one between them. She must've thought he was a real slacker. Or maybe just capricious.

He stood carefully and made his way to his shoes in silence, then slunk away to the stairs.

And then, behind him, with amusement in her voice:

"Stop right there, Alan!"

He grinned. "Angel," he greeted, tone rich with a kind of synthetic elation. He continued to advance, heedless of the gun tracking him as he walked along the far wall and came to a stop across the room by the window, nearer now to the corpse on the floor. For only a second, his smile faltered at the sight of him.

"I didn't expect that you'd take care of him for me, sneaky kitty. It's not in your best interests to go around assassinating the holders of priceless Memories. Isn't that the case?"

Somehow unmistakably, his gaze fell to Emilia.

"Or maybe you're even sneakier than I thought."

[Tifaria]

"I didn't assasinate him.  He was dead when I got here."  She steadied her hand, the gun following Alan's movements.  She glanced to the doorway quickly, where Beck still stood with a confused look.  He was staring at something beyond her vision, but she couldn't risk turning her back on Alan to see what it was. 

There was something.. off.. about Alan.  She no longer knew him well enough to figure out exactly what it was, but now that he was standing closer to her she caught sight of a bandage hidden just under his collar.  She felt her hands jerk involuntarily.  The smell of rain and scotch came to mind suddenly.

"Alan.. what have you done to yourself this time?"   

But before Alan could answer, Beck's voice interrupted from the doorway where he was now leaning, hands shoved in his pockets.

"Sorry, I know you're in the middle of something, but it looks like we have a guest."  He jerked his head toward a young man with his nose in a book.  Somehow he had simply walked past them into the library.  He was either very absorbed in his book or he was hoping they wouldn't notice him.  Angel couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him.  There were fewer worse places in the world to be than stuck in a room with Alan Gabriel.

[Gummi]

Alan Gabriel? His eyes were obscured, nevertheless Emilia still felt his hollow, violating, glance upon her. A feeling was aroused within Emilia upon seeing him, a puzzling familiarity intensified by panic. It was even more startling a fact that he seemed to be personally acquainted with Angel. He was there to find Mr. Vanguard, as well.

Emilia did not dare to speak, she was caught by Alan Gabriel's stare. Frozen in place by a force greater than her own will. Fear. She wondered if he knew about the book, laying innocently near Mr. Vanguard. Alan had accused Angel of assassinating Vanguard. Although it did not seem possible to Emilia. At least she was certain that Beck would not have acquiesced to accompanying Angel if that was her intention. If there was anyone as attached to Mr. Vanguard as Emilia Townshend was it was Jason Beck. Emilia wasn't sure she could trust anyone present, including her self.

A young man walked past the scene with what seemed to be minimal interest. He was absorbed in his reading, so much so that he did not seem to bare witness to the spectacle unfolding before him or he simply did not care. Emilia snapped her head towards him, an undergrad. She was hoping he'd wake up and have enough sense to alert the Military Police. Of course she understood that it would only complicate the situation all the more. If Angel had prior association to Paradigm Corp, why shouldn't she suspect the same of Alan Gabriel? She allowed the young man to walk past and her final remnant of hope went with him.

She glanced upon Jason, piteously, he was the only person she thought she knew. Even though it was fleeting, she once again placed her trust in him. She pulled her eyes away, feeling vulnerable, hoping he did not note her weakness. Although everyone present knew how powerless she was in face of the circumstances.

[Xel]

Alan grinned at the minute distraction the stranger's arrival made and snapped up the book at Vanguard's side with inhuman speed. Without answering Angel's low and mournful question, he retrieved the gold-plated gun from his jacket and fired.

The window nearby cracked sharply, the sound snapping in the air, and hairline fractures crept out from the hole in the glass to its artfully arched frame. Let it never be said, Alan thought, that he should return empty-handed. To, perhaps, Rosewater first; let Angel crawl back to Vera in the short term, or let Angel chase her own ambitions.

He could almost feel Angel's gun tremble in his periphery as he retreated to the window in a flash, wanting to shoot. Wanting to shoot so much...

"The fact of the matter is," Alan began, as though she and he were the only ones in the room. Chipped glass clinked onto his shoe: he had known that it would, and knowing it made him want to burst with rapture.

You'll see. Everything will be...

I don't want to see.

Alan's hand plunged through the glass; it shattered.

"It looks like you're still not quite who I thought you were."

[Tifaria]

The gun went off without her meaning for it to, her hands unable to control the course of the bullet.  The sound of the gun mingled with the clinking and shattering of glass as Alan's hand plummeted through it.  Artificial sunlight poured in through the broken window, and Angel shielded her eyes.  Alan was silhouetted agains the light for the briefest of moments, and she was unable to focus on him as he pushed himself over the ledge with little effort.   

"Neither are you," Angel said quietly.  But Alan did not respond.  He was gone. 

"Well," Beck shuffled over to the window, glass crunching underneath his feet, "That was very exciting and whatnot, but you should have shot him a lot sooner than that, Angel.  For someone in your line of work, you really hesitate too much."  He peered over the window sill.  "How'd he get away so fast?" 

"He's... he's not normal."

"Really?  Surely you jest.  I couldn't help but notice his hand seemed to be rather metallic."  He brushed broken glass off the window sill and turned to lean on it.  He pulled a cigar from his pocket.  "What's with you two, anyway?  You know him?"

"I thought I did."  She slid her gun back into her jacket.  "But that was a long time ago." 

"Whatever.  I don't really care that much." 

Angel looked out the window wearily.  "Now what?" 

"How should I know?  You're the one that wanted that memory so damn bad."  He shrugged.  "I guess your next move depends on how important it is that you get it."  He jerked his head towards Emilia.  "Or, rather, how important it is that she get it.  I have the feeling she still doesn't want you to have that memory, even if you get it back from that creep.  Right, Emilia?"