# [d20 Cthulhu] What Rough Beast... (Part II)



## The Crimster (May 21, 2002)

Thus continues the story of _What Rough Beast..._  Please feel free to post on the OOC thread with comments, questions and the like!
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Randy heads upstairs, passing Dr. Ray Silver.  Ray stands near the front door peering out the window, obviously searching for the police.  

At the top of the stairs, Randy moves quickly towards the back.  Most likely a panic room would be in the bedroom, perhaps concealed in the closet.

Alan and Julia's bedroom is large and luxurious, with a wide selection of art and antiques from periods and cultures far beyond Randy's meager knowledge.  One painting in particular draws Randy's eye - it is an odd piece, of a twisted and crooked window set against a green wall.  Or at least a section of a green wall.  The window opens onto verdant hills, the edges just beginning to darken with the coming of twilight.  Perhaps this is one of Alex's paintings, here hanging just above the bed.

Randy moves to the closet, and finds what he is looking for: an intercom.  He keys the speaker.

"Julia it is ok to come out now. They are gone, except for the one we were able to detain. He has said that you are the Queen. What does he mean by that, and do you think you could go talk to Alex. He is asking the prisoner questions, and I think you would be able to assist in that."

The response is slow at first, and then deep click is heard.  The back wall of the closet swings open, revealing the rather large panic room.  A haggard Julia comes out, looking dazed and sleepy at the same time.

"It's just the club, Randy.  They've called Alan and I by those names for years.  I was telling S-S-Sam that b-before he..." She trails off, and begins to cry again.  She is at the breaking point with all that has happened this day.

She looks directly at Randy, a serious look on her face.

"They've gone too far though, Randy.  I won't cover for them anymore.  What do you want to know?"

Back in the study, Alex stands before Ted, and continues his questioning.

"What if I could bring you someone who you could explain this all to? I'm not much for math, I admit that freely... But my nephew is on the way, and he's very talented at mathematics, though probably not as much as you. Would you mind if he visted you in jail, talked? You could explain what's going on more effectively. I hope you'll understand that I have a great deal of curiosity for what could motivate you to break in to Julia's house and try and kill us." 

"Or succeed." He glances over at Sam momentarily.

Ted, his face a mask of dried streams of blood, grimaces.  

"Jail? Hmmm.  Sure, sure.  Visitors are good.  Not sure I'll be staying long, though."  He chuckles.  "You might say I have a damn good lawyer.  And not to mention, I'm not in my right mind, you know."  He barks out a laugh.  "But sure, I'd love to speak to your friend.  I could show him a couple of proofs that would literally blow his mind.  But I don't think I would share _everything_ with him, know what I mean?  For that, someone would have to *join* the society."  Ted nods.  "And one of you will before this is all over.  One of you will."  The look on Ted's face is an odd mixture of hate and sadness.  It is perhaps what the face of insanity looks like.

The sirens outside are coming closer - you suspect they are pulling onto the street, and should be here within moments.

OOC: Any last questions, before the men in blue drag poor Ted away?


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## Anabstercorian (May 21, 2002)

"I'll make sure he talks to you, then.  I'll see you around - I hope you regain some semblance of sanity.  And please, stop killing the meats for no reason.  I don't think we muck up the geometry."


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## The Crimster (May 21, 2002)

"Muck up the geometry...?" Ted looks at Alex, his face expressionless.  "Don't worry, Alex.  It's nothing a sharp knife won't cure."


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## Anabstercorian (May 21, 2002)

Alex narrows his eyes.  "I think you'll find that a lot of us are pretty hard to straighten out...  Be careful who you fix, or you might find yourself undergoing some geometric... something... yourself."  He mentally chastizes himself for talking about things he knows nothing about.


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## Spoof (May 21, 2002)

*Randy Morrison*

Post reserved for questions.  To be posted tonight, when I get off work


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## Isida Kep'Tukari (May 21, 2002)

_*Ray sees the lights of the police cars and sighs with relief.  He walks outside to meet them and take them inside*_

"I'm glad you got here so quickly, we managed to subdue one of the attackers, one got away, and one was killed.  They killed one of us... one was armed with a shotgun.  We have the one left in handcuffs in the living room, right this way..."


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## The Crimster (May 24, 2002)

The flashes of light from the cameras in the other rooms seems to be tapering off.  The Crime Scene Investigators have already put away their tape measures, camcorders, and scribbled notes.  The bodies of Sam and one of the intruders are long gone.  The photographs taken of the splashes of blood on the wall and floor will no doubt be filed away somewhere, evidence against the day when a finger can be properly pointed at those responsible.

In the kitchen, the coffee pot gurgles cheerily despite the late hour.  It is the 3rd carafe of coffee that Julia has made for the hordes of policemen that have descended on her home.  They have been polite but insistent in their questioning, despite the fact that one of their own was just zipped up in a black body bag and taken to the morgue.  Though they did not know Sam, there is a brotherhood among police that transcends whether you know a particular fallen officer.  These police are no different, and there is a grimness to them that does not bode well if they capture the ‘perp’.  

When Ted was taken away in cuffs, he had little to say.  He almost seemed embarrassed when he walked past Julia.  Her eyes stared into his back, but she said nothing.  The police took him out into the rain and into a waiting car.  He is most likely now being interrogated at the Bel-Air police station.

One of the officers, Sgt. Herbert Canter, still sits at the kitchen table, going over the statements each of you gave him.

Sgt. Canter sighs heavily, and drains the dregs of his coffee cup.  He is an older man, in his mid-forties, with gray around his temples and a weariness that seems bone deep.  He places a report in front of each of you and taps it.

“So… these are your official statements, then?”

OOC: Give me a brief or summarized statement that you would have given the police about what has happened here.  Feel free to talk amongst yourselves first about what you will say – we can assume that as the police began to arrive you quickly talked among yourselves about a believable story.  Things you may want to decide if you will include in your statement include the cemetery; Alister; the demon bees; the world in the desk drawer; the note to Alan from a student; the crank phone call; disappearing Bobby; the i society; etc.  FYI:  I will be gone until Monday morning – taking a wee vacation down to Miami!


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## Anabstercorian (May 25, 2002)

OOC: I vote we include the following in our story

The i society
Alister
The Cemetary
The note re: Alan's "affair" with a student
The crank call
The i society

Basically, if it's a bunch of cracked up lunatics who are OTHER PEOPLE, we put it in.  Nothing about the supernatural until we can prove it.  I want to catch a demon bee or something.


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## Anabstercorian (May 29, 2002)

*I call "Only Guy Posting" Seniority*

Since no one is posting but me, I'll assume there are no objections.  Unless someone squawks in angry protest, as I expect they will, our final statements will include all of our experiences thus far, with all of the detail and information we can give, *WITH THE EXCEPTION OF* everything relating to the demon bees and the mysterious warp gate in the drawer.  We left the room to take a break and get some ice cream and when we came back, the i Society was there.  That's the only fabrication we'll make, because the demon bees are completely unbelievable.


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## Spoof (May 29, 2002)

I agree with what Alex has told to the police.  

OOC I will post at lunch today..  It has been quite busy


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## The Crimster (May 29, 2002)

OOC: Waiting for Doc Silver to post, and then I'll do my turn.


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## Isida Kep'Tukari (May 29, 2002)

But how to we explain Randy's injuries?  And I'm personally all for *not* showing that letter to Julia... unless our resident law-enforcement officer thinks it's absolutely necessary.  The implications are... not good.  However, aside from that, yes we should include the rest of it, not including the otherworldly drawer.


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## Anabstercorian (May 29, 2002)

*Hmmm...*

We hide Randy's injuries if possible.  If not possible, they're a nasty infection of flesh eating bacteria he got a few days ago.

I think we should show the police the letter.  They're the police, they should be told.  But if I'm outvoted I'll keep quiet as a mouse, I promise.

IDEA: Show the police the gate in the cupboard, yes or no?  I vote we show it to them.  They can't deny what's right in front of their eyes, and it could open up the possibility of being honest about everything else as well.


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## Isida Kep'Tukari (May 30, 2002)

Or it could open up the possibility that we're all nutcases.  Look Randy, I've never seen anything like those bees before, and they did a number on you, and probably injected God-knows-what into you.  I'm not saying you didn't see _something_ but I think it would be foolish to be overly hopeful in hoping they're going to see the same thing in the drawer.

I don't want them to think we're a bunch of stressed-out yahoos, because I want them to take us seriously.  I want them to _find_ that other creep!


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## The Crimster (May 30, 2002)

Sgt. Canter looks down at the statements and sighs.  He seems to sigh quite often.

"Very odd," He seems to mutter to himself.  "Very, very odd."

Kristof takes off his glasses and rubs them with his shirt.  "Yes, absolutely.  May I ask, Officer Canter, what is it you think that happened here?"

Sgt. Canter looks up and leans back in the chair which creaks out a protest.  "Officially, it looks like a robbery gone wrong.  There are several reports on the books over the years on various break-ins to this address, but it's never involved weapons that I can tell.  Perhaps they've never been confronted before, this... 'i' Society.  But whatever they wanted, I think they found it in that safe.  I did an inventory of what remains, and I didn't find anything left in there that could be considered 'valuable'.  Old books.  Notes.  Lots of odd notes."  Sgt. Canter scratches his head.  "There were some odd black smudges on the drawer and in the corner.  We took samples to do an analysis.  Oh! And that drawer.  Didn't find anything unusual there.  Just some school paperwork, term papers and such."  

Another officer leans in through the kitchen door.  "Sergeant? We're all done here."  Canter looks up.  "Thanks, Jack.  I'll be out in a minute.  Warm up the car for me, will you?"  The officer disappears, and Canter stands up.

"Well, I think that's it for now.  I've got your statements, your contact information... I appreciate your cooperation, all of you."  He turns to Julia.  "Mrs. Pickman, I am sorry for your loss and what happened here today.  You can be sure that our department will do it's best to find these characters and put them away."  Canter puts on his trenchcoat and hat, and stuffs your statements into a small briefcase.  "I'm also sorry that you had to read that letter, Mrs. Pickman.  I'm not sure exactly _what_ it means, but it was important to know about *all* possible suspects.  We'll try and find this 'Tracy', and see if she's involved.  You say she was a member of the i Society as well?"  Julia nods slowly and lowers her head.

Sergeant Canter looks to each of you and extends his hand.  "Kristoff, Dr. Silver, nice to meet you.  You too, Randy.  I hope that skin condition clears up soon."  He turns to leave.

OOC: Any questions for the departing Sergeant Canter?  Next post by me: ~11am EST Friday May 31.  If no questions by that time, I'll move forward.


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## Anabstercorian (May 30, 2002)

"Sir...  Do you have any theories on what that Bobby character did to escape so quickly?  It didn't make any sense.  I was looking right at it.  One moment he was there, the next he was gone, and there was just that mess of markings you mentioned."  Alex leaves out mention of the strange "simplifying" effect he had noticed.


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## The Crimster (May 30, 2002)

Sergeant Canter scratches his head, oblivious to the fact he's wearing a hat.

"Well, there's two possibilities.  That one perp... the one with the shotgun.  He blew out the lights, right? Well I'm thinking that it was too dark to see 'Bobby' jump out of the window.  The rain, not to mention the well-cropped grass - doesn't leave much for tracks.  Oh, by the way, we have people calling every McDonald's in a 50 mile radius, and getting any information on any 'Bobby' that's been employed there in the past year.  We'll find him."


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## Anabstercorian (May 30, 2002)

"Yes, conceivably he COULD have jumped.  It's only a few feet down to the grass.  The problem is this:  Bobby would have had to cross the room and leaped out of the window there, because the window is on the opposite side of the room from where I saw him!  I mean...  We would have heard him, or something...  Right, Randy?  You saw it too.  Randy was looking RIGHT AT HIM."

Alex looks at Randy hopefully, wanting something to back up the nightmarish thing he saw as reality and not the product of his deranged mind.


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## Spoof (May 31, 2002)

*Randy Morrison*

Randy looks at Alex.  

“I do not know what exactly happened to Bobby.  I was busy covering the other guy who was here, just in case he decided to try something.  (At this Randy makes a small movement with his hand to Alex.  Telling him to just let it go).   If he did jump out the window then with the rain there is probably no way we can track him right now.  Hopefully the other suspect will id him later.  As for the running across the room after that shotgun blast my ears are still ringing, I could not have heard him running across the room at the time.”

Randy will subtly pull Alex aside and whisper to him.  “I know I saw the same thing you did.  But since the drawer is no longer the same we have no proof that anything was going on that was *different*.  We need to just stick to the facts the cops can believe and not give them any reason to think we have just flipped our gourds.  Alex, Julia said she would help us to understand what is going on here.  She seems to have some idea who these people are, and maybe how to find them.”

“Sergeant Canter.  If there is any other questions we might be able to answer just let us know.”


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## Anabstercorian (May 31, 2002)

Alex bites his lip and nods slowly.  "Okay...  You're right.  I'll drop it."

He sighs and lies down on the couch, trying to relax.


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## The Crimster (May 31, 2002)

Sergeant Canter nods at Randy's description of the events.

"Oh, sure.  In the heat of a firefight, you can lose all track of time.  Plus... I wouldn't be surprised if your vision and your hearing were affected by two blasts from the shotgun.  Don't worry about it.  I'm sure we'll catch up with 'Bobby' soon enough."  He nods to everyone.  "I'll be leaving now.  If I have any more questions, I will call."  He leaves the kitchen, and a moment later you hear the front door open and close behind him.

Everything is quiet, with the exception of the rain hitting the window.  It is still raining fiercely out there, and the storm seems to still be hovering over the house.

Julia looks down at her tea, and swirls it with her spoon.  When she starts her story, her voice is low - almost as if she is talking to herself.  Her voice never wavers, never falters, despite what the day has brought.

"When Alan first started to teach at the College, he was very well liked.  He made quite a few friends among the faculty, the students loved him, and even the administration took a liking to him.  I think it had to do with the fact he was so charismatic.  And smart, of course.  Some of you only met him in the past few years.  He still had a bit of his charm, but..."  She trails off for a second, and then continues.  "It had to do with his drinking.  Alan was an alcoholic for most of his 20's, 30's, and 40's.  His father was one as well, so perhaps he got it from him.  But Alan would always be open to have a beer with his fellow teachers, or even, sometimes - his students.  Only the good ones, the ones who were adults, and who shared his fascination with mathematics.  Alan liked nothing more than to have a beer with someone bright and debate the meaning of math and life."  Julia looks up at each of you.  "You must understand, this was quite some time ago.  These days, a teacher wouldn't dare even compliment a girl on how beautiful her dress was, for fear of a lawsuit.  But back then... the relationship between a teacher and his students was different.  Alan sometimes learned more from his students than he ever did when he went to college."  Julia takes a drink from her tea and scrunches her nose.  "Cold.  I'm going to make some more."  As she putters about in the kitchen, she continues.

"It was in 1979 that it happened.  A group of students, 12 of them - asked Alan if they could join him on the weekends.  To talk about math, of course.  They loved it as much as he did, and for many of them - the love for math started with Alan.  He was that good.  So, late at night on Saturdays, or sometimes even Sundays... Alan would meet with these students in his classroom.  They would debate the latest math theories out of Harvard, construct the most complex puzzles for each other... all to challenge each other.  No credit for school, either!  Each of them were geniuses.  Perhaps a bit sheltered, and yes... perhaps they were what you might call 'geeks' - but they were good kids.  I would sometimes attend their get-togethers, but I would just sit and watch.  It was way above me, of course.  But once Alan began to bring alcohol to the meetings, I stopped coming.  I didn't want to be a part of that, and I told him.  He saw it as harmless."  Julia sits back at the table, waiting for the water to boil.  Her hands are slightly shaking, but her voice is still strong.

"It was December 1st, 1979.  Alan didn't come home from his meeting with the i Society, as they began to call themselves.  I didn't know until the next morning.  And when I noticed, I immediately called the campus security.  They found him, and the other students.  They were... still in the class.  They weren't sleeping, exactly.  Most were staring at the walls, as if seeing through them.  Some were crying.  None of the twelve or Alan could speak coherently.  Later, no one could recall what happened."  Julia places her hands on the table, one on top of the other, as if to stop them from shaking.

"All of them were taken to the hospital, where they stayed for three days.  Alan came home the second day, though.  He recovered faster.  The doctors said there was nothing wrong with them _physically_ - but all of them were suffering from some form of catatonia.  None could remember any details of what happened.  The police found the cans of beer, and quite a few of the students had drugs.  Marijuana, I think - but I think it possible there were other drugs there, too.  But the campus covered it up, as it does to most problems.  They gave Alan a pay cut, and made sure that he never became head of the math department.  And he was fine with that... Because in the months after, he became more concerned with the kids."

The water for the tea begins to boil, and Julia gets up from the table to pour her tea.  Kristof looks at the table thoughtfully, and rubs his upperlip with his thumb.  Julia grabs her teacup and sits down, and begins to stir in a cube of sugar.

"Over the next year, everything fell apart for the kids.  All of them dropped out.  Out of the 12, three of them committed suicide fairly quickly.  They left no note, nor spoke to anyone of their problems.  Each just put a gun to their head, or a razor to their wrists, and ended it.

"Four more were put into various asylums, each so mentally unbalanced that their parents had no choice.  Tracy, the young girl that wrote Alan that note, was one of them.  She was a member of the i Society.  She held on... so long.  But in the end, she couldn't deal with day to day life.  She once told me that if she didn't get locked away from all the sharp instruments in the world, she might end up hurting herself.  I still visit her from time to time.  She is no better, though it has been twenty years.

"There remains five to tell you about.  Four of them have just lived day to day - taking odd jobs here and there, perhaps working at McDonalds like poor Bobbie does."  Julia sniffs, as if holding back more tears.  "Such bright kids... So smart... And all that wasted because of... whatever happened.   Some, like Alister, simply lived on the streets.  Sane enough to avoid asylums, not sane enough to hold a job."  Julia takes a sip from her tea.  "The last one, Tyler - was the only one of the 12 to ever have a job.  He worked at a bank, I think.

"And even though Alan was there... and in some way might be _responsible_ for what happened to them - the kids still loved him.  After that December, they saw him as something... great.  They called him the Scarlet King, and I was his Queen.  They would never harm us.  Or... so I thought...  Oh, Sam!"  Julia begins to cry once more, her sobs coming from deep in her chest.

OOC: Any questions for poor Julia? Or just let her continue?  Next post will be Sunday June 2nd 2002 ~10am EST.


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## Anabstercorian (Jun 1, 2002)

Alex listens silently.  Perhaps he isn't listening too hard, though.  He's sketching something on his drawing pad.  He does seem to be paying attention, though...


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## Isida Kep'Tukari (Jun 1, 2002)

_*Ray goes over to Julia and gives her a quick hug*_

"I'm so sorry Julia.  I remember something about those days...  Me and Alan shared a beer or three, but I was never too much into the math stuff, so I never met those other kids.  

That night... that's when he stopped drinking?  I can't quite remember."


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## The Crimster (Jun 2, 2002)

Julia looks over at Ray and nods.

“Yes, that was when he gave up drinking.  Never touched a drop of alcohol ever again.  But that wasn’t the only thing that changed in Alan.”  Julia looks down at the remains of her tea, as if trying to divine some mystery from the dregs.

“What I’m about to say, I’ve never told anyone.  Alan never actually told me to keep it a secret – but it is so fantastical that I had little choice.  I’m telling you, because you’ve been through… _we’ve_ been through… an odd day.”  She reaches over and grips Ray and Randy’s hand.  “And it may have something to do with what has happened here.

“All during the early years, Alan and I lived in a small one bedroom apartment in the Valley.  We had a bed, a broken down refrigerator, and little else.  We made very little money, though we always had dreams of one day buying a house.  We would drive through Bel-Air and pretend that we were going home, but deep down we thought we’d never live in such a beautiful neighborhood.  But then came that night.  That terrible night.  Suddenly, with the hospital bills and the month that Alan had to take off – we were in debt up to our eyebrows.  I remember the day I told Alan that we only had a couple of hundred dollars in our savings.  He turned to me from his desk and quietly said that he had taken it out.  All of it.”  Julia pauses, a quirky smile on her face.

“I was furious!  How dare he spend *our* money without speaking to me about it!  He listened to me yell, sat there quietly, and said, ‘It’ll be all right, Julia.  Trust me.’  And when I asked what he did with it – he simply said, ‘Intel, up 32%’, and went back to whatever he was doing.”  Julia smiles even broader now, lost in the memory.

“He took all our money, borrowed against our cars for another ten thousand, and invested in a little known company called Intel.  And of course… it went up.  _Way_ up.  Thirty-two point nine percent that next week.  Alan was right, and we were suddenly doing much better than we were.  Much, much better.”  Julia looks around at each of you.

“I know what you’re thinking.  Impossible, right?  It’s all true, though.  From that day Alan was a wonder at the stock market.  Not because of his genius with math, but because he had these… funny dreams.  Dreams about the future that would always come true.  Sometimes it was about the next day, sometimes it was… much, much farther in the future.  In the beginning, he tried to help people.  When he saw people getting hurt in his dreams, he tried to stop whatever disaster was going to happen.  But it didn’t work.  The future in an odd way, _was_.  Alan couldn’t change it.  So, we just saw it as a blessing.  All of this –“ Julia motions to the house.  “is all Alan’s doing.  Ray, I remember one time, you asked how could two professors afford such a large house in Bel-Air.  Alan replied that he was simply ‘good’ at the market.  Now you now _how_ good.”

“But you should know this.”  Julia grips her tea cup tightly for a moment and shudders.  “All the money we have… All that we’ve given to charity… Alan’s wondrous gift… He would have given it up in an instant if he could undo what happened that night.  If he could somehow give the lives back to those poor kids, he would do it.  But he didn’t know how.  It was a gift… but with a terrible price.”  Julia looks to you, hope on her face that you believe her incredible story.


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## Anabstercorian (Jun 3, 2002)

Alex stares at Julia, then nods decisively, almost defiantly, daring everything he's ever learned about the way the world works to stand in his way.  "I believe you Julia, one hundred percent.  It's certainly no weirder than anything else and after what Bobby did...  I believe you.  Completely."  He seems reinvigorated, and tosses his sketchpad to the side as he looks at Julia.  "I have to ask, though - Do my paintings have anything to do with this?  Did he get in to them after or before the incident?"


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## Isida Kep'Tukari (Jun 3, 2002)

"Believe?  Julia, at this point I'd believe I'd seen Elvis in the study...  Sure, it fits the facts, I guess..."

_*Ray gets up and runs a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture*_

"I don't know what to say.  All I know is I'm going to have a screaming headache from all of this, and I have to get up at five a.m. for surgery at seven.  

It all makes a twisted kinds of sense though.  It would have taken something huge, like a religious revelation to get Alan to stop drinking.  It guess it was."

_*Ray laughs, a bark of short humorless mirth*_

"God, this night will never end."

_*He drops his head into his hands and sighs in exasperation and exhaustion.  He speaks from that position*_

"I'm sorry Julia, I'm just strung out.  Is there any coffee left?"


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## The Crimster (Jun 4, 2002)

OOC: Waiting on Daddy Spoof...


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## Spoof (Jun 4, 2002)

*Randy Morrison*

OOC: So little free time… 

Randy just stands there listening to Julia tell her story.  _Hopefully she knows where we can find other members of this I society_ Randy thinks.

“Julia did Alan have any other dreams of the future, other than the stock market?  Also when did Alan’s interest in art turn to the morbid?  No offense Alex, but some of your stuff is quite dark and some times even menacing.”

While Randy stands there talking he unconsciously gently rubs one of the holes in his skin.


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## The Crimster (Jun 4, 2002)

Julia nods at Ray with a grandmotherly smile.  She gets up from the table and begins to brew some coffee.  It is hard to believe that it is only just past 10pm.  All of you are tired... so tired.

Julia looks over at Randy.  "He dreamed a great many things, Randy.  Very little of it was the stockmarket, actually.  But he recorded the most important of his... _prophecies_... in his red journal.  Countries who will go to war, presidents that will be assassinated, other tragedies."  Julia slowly walks back to the table and sits down wearily.

"As far as Alex's art goes..." Julia reaches forward and clasps Alex's hand.  She looks at him intently for a moment, and then smiles.  "Alex, Alan always thought you were special.  You should know that.  He always saw in you something of himself, and his gift.  He said that you... _glowed_.  That you could see things just as well as he did, but you didn't know exactly how.  But that you nonetheless could sometimes express it in your paintings.  And don't worry, Alex.  Your paintings don't have anything to do with this... mess."

Julia stands and once more walks over to the still-brewing coffee machine, and begins to pour a cup for Ray.  You hear her sigh, and then square her shoulders.  As if she faces a monumental task, and sees but one solution.

"I have to ask all of you something."  She is facing out through the kitchen window, but you can still see her face through the reflection.  "I have to ask you for a favor, and it hurts me so much to ask.  Because of poor Sam.  He died without really knowing any of the truths I've told you.  I said I needed your help to organize Alan's office, but there's more."  She pauses for a moment, as if gathering more courage.  

"There is one prophecy that Alan told me of a long time ago.  It was difficult for me to hear, and it took quite some time to come to grips with it.  He said this, and I've never forgotten a word.  He said, 'Julia, last night I had another dream.  I saw my own death.'"  Julia's voice breaks a bit, but she continues with barely a pause.  "'I don't fear it now, but you should know something.  When I die, it will not be as it looks.  It will be from another's hand, another's will.  The police will not find my killer, and he will never go to jail.'"  Julia turns and looks around the table, her eyes searching yours for your reactions.  She continues.  "'But don't worry.  When the time comes, you'll get help from our friends.  They will do what needs to be done, though it will cost them.  I cannot see more than that, but I know there is a great confluence of events that will transpire around my death - that could mean a greater tragedy than everything I have ever seen - unless they are there for you.  This is the only dream I've ever had that seems _unsure_, and I think I know why.'"

Julia sits down and frowns.  "He never told me why.  I have to admit, that at that point - when he told me all this - I began to fall apart.  We never really talked about it again - it was sort of a forbidden subject.  No one wants to hear that the one person they cherish in this world will be murdered."  Julia looks around the table at all of you.  Her eyes seems so sad.  "So here we are.  In the middle of Alan's prophecy.  And I'm asking all of you for help."


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## Isida Kep'Tukari (Jun 4, 2002)

_*Ray accepts the coffee from Julia, though almost spills it when she tells them about Alan's prophecy*_

"Murdered?" he says, then turns to Randy.

"You asked me about Alan's death, about how you thought it was strange.  Someone called you with the information.  Who called you about it?  If I can get ahold of the autopsy report I may be able to make some sense of this.  Maybe figure out what's going on...  What was done to him...

Julia, we _will_ be here for you.  Between all of us, we should be able to figure this out, or at least figure _something_ out."


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## Anabstercorian (Jun 4, 2002)

Alex picks up the sketch pad he so carelessly tossed down.  "Sometimes I've wondered about that myself," he murmurs.  "Often my paintings seem to have glimpses of the future in them, hidden between double meanings and layered paint.  Never anything concrete, never anything that I can really point to and say, 'that's precognition'....  But a lot of little stuff, stuff that only seems noticable in retrospect."  He leans back and sighs softly, blinking.

"Maybe we're more alike that I thought."

"Scarlet King... Like the red journal, right?  Scarlet.  I bet that's what those kids stole.  I'd bet my livelihood on it."

He picks up the sketch pad and hands it to Julia.  "I was just drawing...  Most of it was about the geometricizing effect I was experiencing earlier in the study, but maybe...  maybe there's something in there.  Something we can use."  (Untrained Psychic Focus check: +2)


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## Spoof (Jun 5, 2002)

*Randy Morrison*

Randy turns to Ray and says, “I was talking to Dr. Frasier, the Assistant Medical Examiner for the West Los Angeles Coroner's office.  I was asking him for the post mortem report on Alan.  That was why I asked you the questions about heart attacks and the narcosis of the tissue.”

Randy glances in Julia’s direction. “Are you sure you want to talk about this here, I am sure I can get a copy of the report if you need it.  I can also set up a meeting between you and Dr. Frasier.”

Randy turns to Julia.  “Don’t worry Julia, I will help you find the ones ho did this to Alan.”  Randy grabs hold of her hands, he looks at her with a fierce determination in his eyes “I owe him that much at least.”


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## Isida Kep'Tukari (Jun 5, 2002)

_*When Randy lets go of Julia's hand, Ray speaks to him in a low voice*_

"Yes, if you could set up a meeting between Dr. Fraiser and I that would be great.  I think I need to hear first hand what happened to Alan."


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## The Crimster (Jun 5, 2002)

Julia looks to each of you, a sad but hopeful smile on her face.  "Thank you, all of you.  You are such... good people."

Julia looks down at the sketch pad that Alex handed her.  "You're right, Alex.  Whatever happened in that room must be on your mind."  She reverses the pad and shows all of you what Alex drew.  

Rectangles.  Composed of sketched lines, it consists of a rectangle within a rectangle within a rectangle (although the positioning of each rectangle within each other is pivoted 90 degrees).

_Randy, this reminds you of something - but you can't exactly recall what.  Something... similar._

Julia sets down the sketch pad.  "I know some of you are probably tired... There are rooms upstairs for each of you.  I don't know what your day tomorrow looks like, but you're more than welcome to stay here.  I don't know what we'll find out tonight at this late hour.  Do you have any ideas of where to start?"


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## Anabstercorian (Jun 5, 2002)

Alex lies back on the couch.  "I brought my car with me...  I don't think any of those i Society people caught my name, or know who I am, or where I live.  I'm going to head home and sleep until Steven shows up.  I'm not sure what I'll be doing tomorrow, but I'll try and get him to talk to Ted.  He's a real math whiz, though perhaps not as much as Alan's students, but he might be able to earn the respect of these nutters."

He gives Julia a meaningful gaze.  "Julia...  Be strong for us.  We'll get through this together, and we'll find the truth."

Alan lays back and smirks a bit.  "I can't imagine why I thought that would be prophetic...  Rectangles?  Oy."  He rubs his eyes.  "It was cathartic, though."


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## Isida Kep'Tukari (Jun 6, 2002)

_*Ray shrugs*_ 

"As long as I get to surgery on time, it doesn't really matter where I sleep.  Julia, if you'd feel better with someone in the house, I'll gladly stay."


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## Spoof (Jun 7, 2002)

*Randy Morrison*

Randy nods at Julia.  “No problem, I can stay the night here with you if you want.  I am sure you have a guest bedroom or two.  Ray I will get you in contact with the coroner so you may talk to him, but for now I suggest we all get some sleep, its been a long day.”

Randy will head out to his car for a change of clothes, (Never know when you might geet blood on your shirt and have to change)  He leaves his ruined shirt and jacket in the car.


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## The Crimster (Jun 7, 2002)

Julia sets up rooms upstairs for Kristof, Ray, and Randy.  Alex says brief good-byes before he leaves, mentioning the fact that he will be coming back with a trustworthy friend who can hopefully provide some help.

Kristof (and anyone else who volunteers) spends an exhaustive hour cleaning up.  The broken glass in the study, the blood in the hallway and living room... It takes some time to put things in order, but once it's done you can almost pretend that it didn't happen.  That there were not two people murdered here today.  That the murderers - aren't still out there.

_Alex, the drive home is difficult.  The rain brings out poor drivers.  But you manage to make your way home and collapse into your bed.  Your last though as you drift off is of squares and rectangles..._

The night is uneventful.  Sleep comes quickly - the minds way of shutting off when it has absorbed too much or things too horrible to think about further.  Each of you sleeps well despite what you have gone through.  For some however, it is not totally a peaceful night...

_Randy, your sleep is punctuated by a myriad of dreams and images.  Most involve the red landscape you glimpsed in the drawer, and creatures that have been twisted by some malignant hand.  Creatures, that like the bees - have a maddening thirst for your flesh.  

One in particular is fresh in your memory when you awaken.  No bees or roaches in this one.  In it, you are once more at the cemetery.  You feel the weight of a shovel in your hand, the coldness of the rain as it drenches your clothes.  Below you yawns the grave - Alan's grave.  You leap down onto the casket, and scrape away the surface mud with filthy hands.  Lightning crashes above you as you reach for the lid.  You have to see, to *know*.  You rip out a fingernail as you grip the side and yank, but you don't even feel it.  Now you will see the truth.  The lid creaks open, revealing its contents.  Alan is there.  Lying peacefully, a slight smile on his face, the flesh in his face not showing the pallor of death at all.  And next to him...

Susan.  Snuggled close to Alan like a lover, her arm draped over his chest, eyes closed.  The same slight smile on her lips.  Like the last time you saw her, most of her flesh is gone - stripped violently away and blackened symbols burnt into the muscle tissue.  You feel a scream building in your throat... And then her eyes open!  But nothing is there but blackened holes, and far-away stars whirling chaotically..._

*****
*November 5th, 1999*

Morning finds the fresh smell of bacon and eggs cooking in the kitchen - Julia again, of course.  When you come shambling into the kitchen, hoping for some morning coffee, Julia greets each you with a smile and a single finger put to her lips.  She points over to the kitchen table where Kristof sits, head down, snoring slightly.  The table in front of him is covered with dozens of books and pieces of paper.  Seems someone was up rather late...

As the coffee and food is doled out (and you try and decide whether you should wake Kristof) the doorbell rings.  Julia absentmindedly asks, "Would one of you get that, please?"


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## Isida Kep'Tukari (Jun 8, 2002)

_*Ray, most likely being up obscenely early so he can get to surgery on time, nabs some eggs and bacon, and throws them on a piece of toast, rolling it up in a cheap breakfast burrito.  He pours some coffee into an insulated mug he grabbed from Julia's cupboard.  When he hears the doorbell, he goes to open it as Julia asks*_

OOC:  I peek out of the window/peephole before throwing the door open.  Who's there?


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## Anabstercorian (Jun 9, 2002)

Alex is only just waking up...  His alarm goes off and he rolls out of bed with a grunt.  "Ugh..."  He sighs and sits up, slipping out of his fuzzy bunny slippers and heading for his bathroom.  "At least I slept well."
He dresses casually and quickly, grabbing a big breakfast omelette before he steps in to his studio, carefully avoiding the biggest messes.  Gingerly, he sets up a canvas, and stares at it for a while, before he begins to sketch out rectangles at random, eyes almost closed, hoping for a patten of some kind to emerge...  He needs to do this, he needs to get this out of his system.  Get that awful memory out of his head or learn how to cope with it.

(Craft Paint check +8, Psychic Focus +2)

About half way through, he looks at the painting...  His lines are off.  Right angles aren't quite right.  Straight lines wobble.  He dashes it to the side in a sudden fit of senseless anger, taking a straight edge and right angle to trace with, wanting to get it RIGHT.  Perfect.  Geometric.  Like the memory...  So perfect it's wrong, so perfect anything resembling life is gone, without the comfort of constant entropy to remind you of the flow of time, a perfection where life, death, time are all lies...

He can hardly remember painting it, but later, almost at noon, he looks at the finished painting.  For now, it'll stay here.

"Oh, , Steven!"

He throws himself at his car and peels out of there, tossing on some flipflops instead of bothering to get real shoes.


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## The Crimster (Jun 9, 2002)

_Ray, through the peephole you can see a petite asian girl, perhaps around 19 or so, looking back through the other side.  She looks rather wet, however - the rain has let up quite a bit, but it's still coming down.  Her black hair is plastered to the side of her face.  She is somewhat short, perhaps just over 5 feet tall, and looks like she weighs about 100 pounds (less, if she were to dry out)._


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## Isida Kep'Tukari (Jun 9, 2002)

_*Ray blinks and opens the door partway*_

"May I help you?"


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## Spoof (Jun 10, 2002)

*Randy Morrison*

Randy wakens in a cold sweat, startling upright in bed, a weak whimper in the back of his throat.  He casts around wildly for a second not sure of his surroundings, before he realizes that he is safe, over at Julia’s house, she had asked him to stay the night.  Randy quickly throws some clothes on and stumbles to the bathroom, splashing cold water n his face when he gets there.  He notices with an odd detachment that most of the water seeps through his hands because they are shaking and he can not keep them together.  

After Randy freshens up in the bathroom he returns to his room to compose himself before going downstairs.  After a few minutes pass Randy is fully dressed and even finds a jacket that he can wear in the closet.  After strapping on his sidearm and covering it with the suit jacket Randy feels better, but still he thinks something is missing.  Randy heads downstairs as Julia is starting breakfast.  

“Hello Julia.  How are you doing this morning?”  If Julia looks she can notice that Randy has deep circles under his eyes and his face is haggard, for a poor nights sleep.  “I will be right back I have to grab something out of the car.”  

With that Randy hurries out of the house and retrieves something from the trunk of his car, and quickly returns to the house.  He is seated at the table engaged in small talk when Ray comes downstairs.  When the doorbell rings Randy starts to answer it when Ray heads to the door, and Randy will sit back down to continue eating, the shaking in his hands it almost gone now.


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## Black Omega (Jun 10, 2002)

The rather wet and bedraggled asian girl sighs, pulling her jacket in close around her "Will you just tell Prof. Pickman I'm here like he asked and the project is done..."  her voice trails off as she peers more closely at Ray "And..who are you?  I've not met you before..."


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## The Crimster (Jun 10, 2002)

Julia comes up behind Ray and sticks her head to the side, looking out the door.

"Kelly?  It is Kelly, right?  Please, come in."  Julia turns to Ray.

"She's a student of Alan's, Ray.  She's been here a couple of times recently." 

OOC: Assuming you let her in without incident...

Julia motions to Kelly to sit down on the couch, a slightly concerned look on her face.  She sits down on a a chair next to the couch.

_Kelly, you can smell the very distinct odor of cleaning solution, almost overpoweringly so._

"Kelly... shouldn't you be in class?"

*Elsewhere...*

Alex puts the finishing touches his piece.  It is a mixture of browns, greens, and blacks - all bound by squares and rectangles.  Each shape seems to have more than two dimensions, as if Alex was trying to make the image leap off of the canvas.  It is perhaps influenced by yesterdays events - the geometric 'hallucination' and Randy's viewing of an other world through Alan's desk drawer.  The squares look familiar - green with something that could be writing on its surface.

_Alex, there *is* something here.  You feel as if Alan is trying to reach out and send you some type of message.  The green square... it could be... yes, you think it could be a book of some kind._


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## Anabstercorian (Jun 10, 2002)

Alex stares at the painting for a long time, almost unbelieving.  Can this... can this be real?  To watch reality fall down around you, to watch all of your assumptions about the world crumble, THAT he can cope with.  But to help them fall...  He stares at the painting in shock.

He just did something strange and different and terribly unusual, perhaps even wrong somehow.  He isn't even sure what it is.  But there's nothing that he can do about it at this point.  All he can do is grit his teeth and push in farther.

He goes in to the next room and watches one of his South Park tapes for a little while to take his mind off his troubles while he lets the paint dry, and unwinds nicely.  After that, he wraps the painting gingerly in opaque plastic, loads it in to the backseat of his car, and starts driving towards Julia's house, hoping to beat Steven there.


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## Anabstercorian (Jun 10, 2002)

*Steven Higgens*

Meanwhile, a couple of hours drive north, a young college student with bright white hair is skipping class up at CalTech to go fool around with something supernatural with his uncle down south.  He's speeding, but only a little, maybe 5 MPH faster than the rest of the cars, but he wants to go faster.  He wants to go get himself killed, as long as its something interesting!

His cell phone sits unused, hooked up to a headset strapped around his ears, ready to communicate at the drop of a hat, his eyes hidden behind opaque sunglasses that can't make up for his giddy grin.  A loaded Model 17 Glock hangs in a holster hidden in his windbreaker, with a pair of clips on the other side.  Still flush with idiotic enthusiasm, he shoots towards what will likely be his early demise...


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## Black Omega (Jun 11, 2002)

The Crimster said:
			
		

> *Julia comes up behind Ray and sticks her head to the side, looking out the door.
> 
> "Kelly?  It is Kelly, right?  Please, come in."  Julia turns to Ray.
> 
> ...





Kelly sits, sighing a little as she runs her fingers through her damp hair. "Figures it would be raining today." she grumbles quietly before smiling to Julia "Sorry, been a long few days. I..." she glances around after a moment, scrunching her nose before she glances back to Julia "What?  Oh, should be." she gives a little impish grin "Not.  I get that way when a project comes up and Prof. Pickman had a very involved one for me to work on. That's whyI'm here to see him.  I've been running it for days now."


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## The Crimster (Jun 11, 2002)

Julia grimaces.  She reaches out her hand, placing it lightly on Kelly's.

"Kelly... dear... You haven't heard, have you?"  Julia looks over at Ray and sighs, and then turns back to Kelly.

"My husband died on Tuesday.  The funeral was yesterday.  No one told you...?"  Before Kelly can respond, a voice interrupts from the kitchen.  

"What... numbers?  *What are the numbers, Kelly??*"  It's Kristof - but he looks horrible.  His eyes are red and bloodshot, his hair is rumpled and in disarray.  His tie and shirt are undone.  He is staring at Kelly with an intense look on his face, his eyes wide and unfocused.

_Kelly, you recognize assistant professor Faulken from the university.  He graded a few of your history papers last term.  A bit nerdy, he still seemed a bit too quiet and reserved.  Now - you're not so sure..!_


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## Spoof (Jun 12, 2002)

*Randy Morrison*

Randy looks up from his food as Kristof gets excited about what the new girl Kelly said.  Randy gives the professor an appraising glance and wonders why he is so interested in the numbers.  “Well I would guess that she was working on a complex math formula.  But why concern your self with the answer professor until you know what the question is?”

Randy gets up and introduces himself to the new girl.  “Hello Kelly, my name is Randy.  I am a friend of Julia and Professor Alan.  What were you working on that was so important you would cut class to come tell him?”

As Randy reaches out to shake Kelly’s hand his hands are once again quite steady and thinks _I think I better talk to Alex about that dream.  He seems in tune to such things, even the professor thought so._


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## Isida Kep'Tukari (Jun 12, 2002)

_*Ray looks from the clueless Kelly to the crazed-looking Kristof with more than a bit of impatience.

(Ok, that tears it, let them figure this out on their own!)*_

"Kelly, nice to meet you, sorry it couldn't have been under better circumstances.  Julia, sorry, I have got to run, work calls.  I'll call you later.  Bye everybody."

_*With that Ray will get in his car and drive to the hospital for work*_


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## Anabstercorian (Jun 12, 2002)

*Still here*

Just letting everyone know that yes, I am still paying attention to the thread, and both Steven and Alex are on their way to Julia's house.  ^_^


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## Black Omega (Jun 13, 2002)

Kelly waves to Ray, still a little puzzled from meeting him at the door.  Then a shrug and she puts it out of her mind, attention turning to Randy next "Nice to meet you."  she returns the handshake before shrugging "A meeting of mathematics and computers only I could handle.  Well..maybe not, but it was a metric ton of data to sort through..."  

Kelly glances to Julia curious as she speaks, then she blinks, a shocked look coming over her face "Dead?  What?  How??  It's not been...ok..it's been quite a few days but he told me to come over..."  her words cut off by the outburst as she stares over at Kristof.  Thoughtful for a moment then "I -do- know you..Professor..Faulken?  more than a little taken aback by Kristof's wild manner.  After a moment she glances back to Julia and Randy "Um..what's going on?  I mean..aside from..."  she sighs "I'm sorry Julia, I really am.  I had no idea..."


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## The Crimster (Jun 14, 2002)

Ray grabs his coat, says his farewells, and leaves.  There's a patient being prepped right now to be operated on; forgetting responsibilities is not Dr. Ray Silvers' way.

Kristof looks from person to person, and then sighs heavily.  He takes off his glasses and rubs his face, as if trying to dispel the effects of too little sleep.  He puts back on his glasses and almost runs back to the kitchen, mumbling to himself.

Julia watches Kristof leave, a puzzled look on her face.  She turns back to Kelly and gives a weak smile.  "Yes, Kelly.  It happened on campus.  I wasn't there unfortunately.  From what I've heard, Alan was on his way to the library, and had a heart attack in front of admissions.  A few students tried to help, but... It was too late."  Julia looks over at Randy, and then back at Kelly.  "Kelly... What did Alan have you working on?  It may be... important."

*Elsewhere...*

_Alex, you put the wrapped painting under your arm and walk down to your car.  The rain has slackened somewhat, and it's only a mild drizzle that nonetheless will play havoc with the freeways.  Thankfully you don't have that far to go to get to Julias.  You almost drop your keys as you get to your car.  There is something under the windshield.  Not a flyer, but something large enough to cause the wiper to point upwards at an angle.  You edge around the car cautiously.  Who knows what it could be - considering what you went through yesterday? You get closer and see that someone has left you a small present.  There, under the blade - a dead pigeon.  You see that it appears to be missing its eyes.  A note lays on top of it, attached by a nail that is driven through the poor bird's chest.  Scrawled on the note in black pen is the following:  _


*Onle this coold have savded us.
no eyez too se GOD.
he iz the ded gate
we arr the key
be carful
*


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## Anabstercorian (Jun 16, 2002)

Alex's eyes go wide as he steps closer to the pidgeon.  A look of utter disgust fills his face, mixed with fear at the realization that he isn't safe.  Gingerly he pushes the deceased fowl from under the windshield wiper and gets in to his car - 

What if there's a bomb?

No...  No, that's crazy.

He starts the car and starts driving towards Julia's house.

(Where ARE the rest of you people?)


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## Black Omega (Jun 16, 2002)

The Crimster said:
			
		

> *Julia watches Kristof leave, a puzzled look on her face.  She turns back to Kelly and gives a weak smile.  "Yes, Kelly.  It happened on campus.  I wasn't there unfortunately.  From what I've heard, Alan was on his way to the library, and had a heart attack in front of admissions.  A few students tried to help, but... It was too late."  Julia looks over at Randy, and then back at Kelly.  "Kelly... What did Alan have you working on?  It may be... important."*




Kelly watches Kristof leave, a worried expression on her face before she shakes her head "What happened to him?"  then she nods "I really am sorry, I hadn't heard anything on that.  but I do sometimes loose days when I get lost in projects.  Prof. Pickman gave me a ton of data to distill down.  I'd just finished and got the results.  It's so a situation 42 though.  I have the answer but am clueless on the real question. "  she gestures to her backpack "Have the laptop with me with the results.  Really, just came down to a number though...um..0.0011051999."  Kelly thinks a moment then rattles off the number by memory "that mean anything to you?"


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## Spoof (Jun 17, 2002)

*Randy Morrison*

Randy looks at Kelly and shakes his head.  "Nope I am sorry I do not know what that number means.  What was the question that ou were working on though.  Sometimes the question is more important than the answer."


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## The Crimster (Jun 19, 2002)

Julia turns to Kelly.  "Yes, what was it that Alan had you working on?  Did he say? What type of information did he give you?"

_Kelly, for the most part - it was raw data from several long range telescopes scattered across the globe.  Most of the information is pretty dull - the movement of certain stars, the magnetic resonance of certain comets, etc.  It pretty much felt like Alan was having you come up with one big Astrology chart or something._

Just as Kelly is about to answer, the weary looking Kristof comes into the living room with a stack of papers in his hand.  He sets them down on the table and smoothes them out carefully.  _Randy, that action vaguely reminds you of something.  Someone else smoothed out paper like that, too..._

"These... notes.  All these notes."  Kristof looks around at each of you.  "These notes are what Alan wrote after his dreams.  Most of the good stuff must have gone into his journal."  Kristof pulls the top one off of the stack and begins to read it.  "'Mid-January.  1994.  Earthquake.  West coast.  Maybe Los Angeles?  Must remember to take off time during that month.  Tell friends.'"

Kristoff sets that piece down and begins to scan through the notes, looking for something specific.  He pulls it out from a small notebook.  

"Ah! Here it is.  I thought I saw your name on it, Kelly."  He looks up at Kelly with a smile on his face.  He then takes off his glasses and wipes them with his shirt.  Perhaps the same old Professor Faulken after all.

"October 3rd, 1999.  Addendum to journal." Kristof reads.  "Project going well.  I have a student working on the number crunching (Kelly Zhang - must remember to get her something for all that she's done, and will do).  She has no idea as to what it means - what the *numbers* mean.  I can only hope that she finishes in time to make them worthwhile.  My dreams are getting less and less real as I get closer to what's going to happen...  I can't believe that he would try and undo what has been done.  I must one day pay for my crimes, for all that has transpired since that day.  Too much guilt for one man, but I know that... Hmmm.  All back to the same philosophical bent.  What is guilt - when you have killed God himself?"

Kristof sets down the paper as if it has suddenly become fragile.  His glasses slide forward on his nose but he doesn't seem to notice.


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## Anabstercorian (Jun 20, 2002)

*Alex Higgens*

You all hear the sound of a sudden banging on the door, without any sound of a car driving up to herald it.  Perhaps fear or surprise grips you before Alex calls out from the front steps.  "It's me!  Alex!  Let me in, I've got something very important, a... some messages.  From people, I don't know who."

If you let him in, you see him holding three things.  Under one arm, he holds a painting wrapped in semi-opaque plastic...

Flashback: _...Alex puts the finishing touches his piece. It is a mixture of browns, greens, and blacks - all bound by squares and rectangles. Each shape seems to have more than two dimensions, as if Alex was trying to make the image leap off of the canvas. It is perhaps influenced by yesterdays events - the geometric 'hallucination' and Randy's viewing of an other world through Alan's desk drawer. The squares look familiar - green with something that could be writing on its surface..._

Under the other arm, he holds a shoebox, with a small piece of paper taped to it.  He immediately begins to talk, frantic, nervous, frightened, stressed.  His hands don't shake, though it sounds like they should from the tone of his voice.

"I...  I did this painting.  I thought...  I thought from what Alan's journal said, and from my own hunches, that I might come up with something that way...  Piece some evidence together or find something out.  And...  I did, kind of, but it wasn't what I expected at all.  It was almost like I wasn't holding the brush...  No, I was holding the brush, but someone was whispering in to my ear in a voice that I couldn't hear but was listening to anyway, guiding my hand.  And...  I think, I think that someone was Alan.  That's what it felt like.  It's all too weird for me to think about without some ice cream to keep me in a mellow mood."  He opens up the painting and reveals it all to you.

"And I found...  I found a dead pigeon on my windshield this morning.  It's eyes were plucked out and it had this messaged nailed to it."  He reads, starting to calm down now that he's among people he trusts.  "Only this could have saved us: No eyes to see god.  He is the dead gate, we are the key.  Be careful."  He hands the note to anyone who wants to see it: The spelling is atrocious.

Onle this coold have savded us.
no eyez too se GOD.
he iz the ded gate
we arr the key
be carful

"I'm not sure what it means...  I think it's from one of the other students who lost it a few years back, hopefully not one of the ones we ran in to last night...  I'm not sure what we can do with it."  He looks at you, looking very, very afraid all of a sudden.  "But don't you see?  They know where I live.  I'm not safe.  I don't think any of you are either..."


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## Isida Kep'Tukari (Jun 23, 2002)

_*Ray pulls into the hospital at speeds that should have had him arrested.  Even so as he runs into his office, he's intercepted by one of his nurses*_

"You're obscenely late!  I couldn't get ahold of you at home, your cell phone was turned off, and you wouldn't answer your beeper," she snaps, taking his briefcase from him, and shoving his surgical scrubs at him.  "You have two ACL reconstructions, two knee scopes, and - "  

_*Ray throws up a hand to cut her off.  She abruptly stops, then takes a deep breath*_

"Sorry doctor, we just got a little frantic when no one could get ahold of you.  The patient's prepped and on the table."

_*With that, she leaves.  Taking her words as the unsubtle hint they were meant to be, Ray closed the door and frantically changed into his scrubs.  One shoe off, one shoe on (_diddle-diddle dumpling, my son John_, his mind continued inanely) he scrawled an note to himself to call the coroner during his lunch break.

He dropped his cell phone and beeper on his desk, then froze.

"Your cell phone was turned off and you wouldn't answer your beeper," she had said.  Ray _never_ turned off his beeper, and he was certain he hadn't turned off his cell phone last night.  He almost never did anyway.  But both devices were entirely dead.  It looked like they had both run down at the same time.

He blinked.  He had purchased the very best most long-lasting batteries and battery packs for both items just because he almost never turned them off.  For both of them to run down at the same time was damn near mathmatically impossible-

He stopped himself right there in mid-thought*_

"I'm paranoid.  I'm only paranoid.  Right."  He gulped down the last of his coffee (stone cold by this point), and headed out the door at a fast walk.


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## Anabstercorian (Jun 23, 2002)

*Steven Higgens*

Before any of you react to Alex's rant, there's a knock at the door, short and terse.  Alex looks up and goes towards the door.  "That must be Steven," he murmurs.  He opens the door to reveal a slightly sleepy looking young man with thick hair and prominent sideburns, wearing clingy, casual black shirt and slacks that contract with his white sneakers and hair.  Despite this, he doesn't hold your attention overmuch - His wild hair seems to be a last ditch effort to be noticeable.  Even so, he lacks presence.
"Hey there, uncle Alex.  This where everything got weird?"  He sniffs the air twice suddenly, and his eyes go wide.  "What's with the smell?  Spill something staining?"
Alex bites his lip.  "You could say that..."
Steven pushes in to the room, flashes an innocent, friendly smile, and gives a sort of half-bow to all of you.  "Hi, I'm Steven.  You're all friends of Alex?  He's my uncle."  Abruptly you notice that he openly sports a pistol on his hip, and a pair of magazines on the opposite side.  Those of you who are especially knowledgable in such things recognize it as a Model 17 - Not actually legal for civilian use, technically...


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## Black Omega (Jun 26, 2002)

Kelly watches the confusion with a mix of sadness and bemusement.  When the chance comes up, she will explain "It's really just Astronomical data.  Star paths, magnetic resonance.  Everything came down to that number.  Like the center of a big star chart."

She grows a little more anxious as she listens Alex, frowning a little as the story goes on.  She glances to the others to see how seriously they are treating it before she looks back to Alex as he returns, with just a hint of wariness "So..um..who did you run into last night that might do something weird like that?  Have you called the police?"

She offers a friendly nod to Steven though.  However, her level of anxiety grows when she spots the gun.  Just what -has- she walked into...


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## Black Omega (Jun 26, 2002)

*Re: Steven Higgens*



			
				Anabstercorian said:
			
		

> *  Those of you who are especially knowledgable in such things recognize it as a Model 17 - Not actually legal for civilian use, technically... *



Kelly would have no idea about a Glock Model 17.  Are they actually illegal in the LA area?  I'm curious...


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## Spoof (Jun 26, 2002)

*Randy Morrison*

Randy stands at the table while listening to Alex’s story, quietly listening to what happed to him over the night.  Almost as soon as Alex finishes his rendition of what had happened to him then his friend walk in, and introduces himself.  Randy quickly spots the weapon holstered at his side and subtly moves himself into a more protective position of Kelly, and Julia.  

Randy looks to Alex and says, “Well I can understand your concern.  But they probably followed you home last night, why they would do such a thing I do not know, and as for the dead bird?  It is strange though because that was the same thing Alaster said at the funeral, ‘God is Dead’.  I wonder why they have said that, and come to think of it didn’t the suspect last night say the same thing?” 

As an after thought Randy pulls out the piece of paper that Alaster had at the funeral and gives it to Kelly.  “Kelly, do you know what any of these formulas are for or about.  We got it from Alaster, a man who spoke at Mr. Pickman’s funeral.  He seemed a little deranged and believe it or not had bugs crawling over him at the funeral.”  

Next Randy turns to Steven “Hello Steven, how did you get dragged into this, and has your uncle told you everything that has happened so far?”  At those statements Randy once again glances down to the gun at Steven’s side and wonders _Does this kid think that wearing a gun on his side like that is going to intimidate people.  The only people who are going to be scared are those who wonder what he is up to, anybody that sees the gun and wants it will take steps and take him down.  By wearing it on the outside he has lost any chance of surprise._  “Oh and Steven, are you sure that you need to be wearing an illegal firearm out in plain view like that?”

Randy surveys the group of people here and looks for any sign that they might have had a bad nights sleep.  “I have a question for everyone here.  Did anyone have any nightmares or unsettling dreams last night?  With all the excitement yesterday…”  With that Randy just leaves the statement unfinished.


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## Anabstercorian (Jun 30, 2002)

*Steven*

Steven does a double take.  "It's illegal here?  Crap!  I had a permit to carry it back in CalTECH.  I'll stow it, promise."  He untucks his shirt and slides it over his holster.


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## The Crimster (Jul 1, 2002)

OOC: GAH! For some reason I haven't been getting the 'updated' emails!  Ok, I'll update this later on today.  Sorry folks, I've been out of it and I depended on those emails.


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## Anabstercorian (Jul 1, 2002)

*Alex*

Alex looks sternly at Steven.  "Honestly, Steven, I thought you'd be more sensible than that.  We have to be careful not to arouse too much suspicion from anyone!"

He turns towards the rest of you.  "Julia, Randy, Kelly, this is Steven, my nephew.  I originally called him because he has a real head for numbers, a lot more than me, and I thought he'd be the best person to talk to [that guy who went to jail whose name I can't remember.]"

Steven nods.  "Right.  I'm very pleased to meet all of you."  He looks around, then steps towards the study.  "So what's up, exactly?  I heard something about some sort of space gateway...  And some really angry bees.  How much of that's true?"

He stops cold as he sees the chalk outline.


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## The Crimster (Jul 2, 2002)

November 5th, 1999.
11:06 AM PST.

"Dr. Silver..? Are you all right?"

Ray looks up from the stack of paperwork on his desk.  Michelle Williams, his secretary, stands at the doorway to his office.  Her head is cocked to the side as if she is peering at something she has never seen before, and isn't sure she likes it.  Her blonde hair, mostly gray now - sits in a two buns on the side of her head that makes her look like an elderly Princess Leia.  Why hasn't anyone told her that yet?

Ray suddenly realizes she's been calling his name for the past few minutes, but he didn't hear her at all.  His mind was elsewhere - dwelling on yesterday.  He had been staring at the same medical chart for god knows how long.

"Sorry, Michelle.  Just thinking about other... things.  What can I help you with?"

Michelle gives a slight disapproving frown.  What is it about doctor's assistants that makes them suddenly become motherly??

"As I was saying... There's someone here to see you.  I know you have to get to prep soon for the Peterman surgery, but he says he has an appointment."

"Does he?"

Michelle sits down somewhat awkwardly in a nearby chair and looks at the ground.

"It's funny, Dr. Silver.  I cleared your calender three days ago! I remember! He shows up a few minutes ago and I tell him that he _doesn't_ have an appointment, but he says in this creepy voice, 'Look again'.  So I look! And there his name is, Alister Chilton! I am *so* sorry Dr. Silver I just...." 

_Ray, Michelle's voice trails off to become just so much line noise.  You feel cold suddenly, and very very tired.  Alister? Here?? It can't be the same man that you saw yesterday at the funeral.  But it *is*.  You can feel it in your bones.  Now the question is this - What are you going to do about it?_

*Elsewhere...*

Introductions are made all the way around.  Julia seems at first hesitant to include Stephen, but her trust in Alex is strong and after a few minutes she begins to relax around him.

Kristof shambles over to sit next to Kelly and looks at the paper Randy sets in front of her.  It is the paper that he took from the odd man at the funeral - Alister, his name was.  He read from it as if it were a eulogy, but all that is there now are mathematical symbols and formula that seem to complex and odd to be real.  Kristof stares at it longer than Kelly, and scratches his chin, mumbling to himself.

Julia sits down in a living room chair, and stairs at everyone.  The look on her face is that of someone who has lost control over something, perhaps.  But yet feels perfectly comfortable knowing it is in the hands of those she trusts.  She looks to everyone with a smile and coughs politely.  Everyone turns.

"So... We have Alister's paper, the notes from Alan, the letter from Tracey - one of Alan's students, and this... number that Alan had Kelly working on.  What does it all mean?  Alan thought you - all of you - might be able to figure it out.  Where do we start?"  

OOC: Sorry guys - in addition to NOT getting my email responses, I've been extremely busy in other areas.  Forgive me?  You still there? Guyyys? Helloooo? Why am I all alone here? Who's that? What's that in your hand?!? Aiiiieeeeeee!


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## Anabstercorian (Jul 4, 2002)

*Steven and Alex*

Alex looks to Steven, who looks back, still shaken from the sight in the other room.  Steven speaks in a low, intent voice.  "This is what you needed me for, right?  Not to shoot stuff or any kung fu crap.  You needed this."  He points to his head.  "The math man."

Alex nods.  "That's why I called you."

Steven sighs.  "Lemme see the notes that that guy at the funeral had.  I might be able to figure em out...  What they mean, you know."

[ Mathematics check, +11 modifier.  Taking 20 if possible, rolling if not. ]

"I'm afraid I don't know ANYTHING about astronomy.  I can't interpret the number Kelly has."  He nods to Kelly and gives her an empty smile, but sweet nonetheless, like empty calories in a fairy cake.


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## Anabstercorian (Jul 8, 2002)

(BUMP)


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## Spoof (Jul 9, 2002)

*Randy Morrison*

Randy’s eyes dart to everyone around the room.  “Well I think that we need to find some of the students that were with Alan that night.  Julia if you know where we can reach any of them that would be great.  Alaster, since we have already met him would be my first choice.” 

Randy motions to Alex that he wants to talk to him in private.  After they walk off a little way Randy talks to him in a quite voice.  “Have you noticed that Kristof has been acting a little different lately, more disquieted?  I think that he may know something that he is not telling us.”

Randy looks intensely at Alex “I want to try and put what Dr. Alan said to the test.  If you really are ‘Special’ and can draw things that others cannot really see then draw Mr. Kristof for me.  See if you can bring to light what he is hiding before I confront him directly”


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## Anabstercorian (Jul 9, 2002)

*Steven and Alex*

Steven looks over the notes with a confused look on his face, trying to figure out what the hell it means, as Alex is led away.  Alex first seems confused, then nods understandingly, looking a little nervous.  He's never tried anything like this before.

He nods.  "Allright, Randy.  I'll do my best.  Will a pencil sketch do?"  He heads back to his seat and starts drawing Kristof, trying not to think about it too hard, lest he ruin his intention of precognition by focusing on the present.


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## The Crimster (Jul 10, 2002)

Steven sits down at the dining room table and begins to look at the paper that Alister brought to the funeral.  He quickly asks for a pen and a piece of paper, and begins to take notes.  At times he shakes his head (usually followed by "Hmmm, that's not right...").  Within a matter of a half an hour he has 5 pages of notes and formulas and a killer of a headache.

_Steven, you almost think that it's *not* math.  The variables that this 'Alister' created are seemingly arbitrary and random.  And yet - you still are finding a consistent rhythm to the system.  It's a wild take on chaos theory mixed with religion and nihilism.  The purpose of the single page is fairly clear, if a bit... unusual.  It involves the *nil* character - which signifies nothingness, of course.  The absence of numbers.  The paper is a theoretical take on how systems break down under what Alister calls the 'Nil Point'.  This is where entropy is so great that even social structure breaks down - civilization would collapse to such an extent that it conceivably could usher in a new dark age.  Such things are pure theory of course - only a nuclear war or some other catastrophe could cause such a thing.  The paper however seems to say that it is this *nothingness* - the Nil Point - that will destroy the world.  The full meaning of this is unclear, but you still have a massive headache._

After speaking privately for a moment, Randy and Alex return to the front room to join Julia and Kelly.  Kristof still sits in the kitchen, pouring over a variety of books.  He is still visible to those in the front room, however.

Taking his pad, Alex begins to sketch.  Within 20 minutes, he has a likeness of Kristoff, glasses askew, reading a dusty tome.  It is an excellent piece - the hair on his head is even slighty dishevelled (although truth be told, it almost looks as if there is a bit of grease or water in Kristoff's hair - Alex put in a bit too much 'shinyness' there, perhaps).

Kelly and Julia quietly discuss the potential meaning of the numbers, but come to no real conclusion.


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## Anabstercorian (Jul 10, 2002)

*Steven*

Steven gets up and grabs any soda available from the fridge.  "He's a nut, but a real bright nut.  Ever read 'Foundation' by Isaac Asimov?  This guy is kind of the same thing...  He's trying to predict when the world will end through mathematical simulation.  The math is complete ass, but the theory is sound, as it boils down to, 'When enough  happens, the world ends.'"

He sits down.  "I might be able to get more out of it with time...  There's another thing in there about a sort of social event horizon, called the Nil Point.  When entropy becomes the defining factor of a system, even a social system, and everything goes down the -hole."

Goodness.  Steven has quite a potty mouth.


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## Anabstercorian (Jul 12, 2002)

bump.  C'mon, people, let's get some investigation on.  Steven is going to go interview Ted along with anyone who wants to, and we have that old ex-student to check on.  She might be who left the dead pigeon.  On top of that, Dr. Silver really needs to respond regarding Alister.  Wake up, folks!


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## Isida Kep'Tukari (Jul 13, 2002)

The Crimster said:
			
		

> *November 5th, 1999.
> 11:06 AM PST.
> 
> "As I was saying... There's someone here to see you.  I know you have to get to prep soon for the Peterman surgery, but he says he has an appointment."
> ...




_*Ray shudders, as the events of yesterday are now firmly in the forefront of his mind, exactly where he wishes they wouldn't be.  Lips tight, he nods at Michelle*_

"Tell him I can talk to him for only ten minutes," he says thinly.  Michelle nods, losing some of her frantic look.  They've played this game before.  She'll walk in and call him "to prep for surgery" after Alister's alloted time is up.  Useful trick if someone unwanted is visiting.  Hopefully it will work this time...

_*As Michelle leaves, Ray looks back at his paperwork, his eyes very tired*_

"I never thought I'd see the day when I'd prefer paperwork over people..."


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## Spoof (Jul 15, 2002)

*Randy Morrison*

Randy looks at the picture that Alex drew of Kristof.  _Well it does not seem that this shows anything_ Randy thinks.  “Alex do you mind if I take this for now?”

“All right people I think that it is time for us to get moving on what or who killed Professor Alan.  Alex and Steven I think that you should head to the university and bring back all of the professor’s belongings back here.  One I think that we should go through them to see if there is anything there, and also I think the Julia would like to have his things here.  Kristof, Kelly, if she wants to go, and I will go and visit some of the professors partners that night to see what they can tell us.  We will start off by visiting some of those that are in the institutions and then talk to the couple that are still out, if we can find them.”

“Julia if you can get the key to Alan’s office for Alex and I could use the names and locations of the professors friends.”


Randy will exchange cell phone numbers with Alex so they can keep in touch if the need to.  He will also leave his number with Julia in case anyone calls here looking for him.
Randy will also phone in to headquarters and let them know he will be out of the office for a few days as an urgent personal matter has come up.


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## Anabstercorian (Jul 15, 2002)

*Alex and Steven*

Alex and Steven nod, quickly fetching the key to Alan's office after Alex slips Randy the portrait.  They head out the door feeling ready to face this crisis proactively.

[Alex and Steven are leavin' for Alan's old office.  There, they will no doubt be killed by a twist of fate.  Failing that they will retrieve Alan's belongings and return them to the house for clues.  They are not speeding.]


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## The Crimster (Jul 17, 2002)

OOC: Waitin' on Omega... I will post later tonight if nothing from him by then.


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## The Crimster (Jul 19, 2002)

After a few moments, Ray hears a scratching at his office door.  It sounds as if a rather large rat is trying to get in.  Before he can react, the door knob turns, revealing the pale face that he saw at the funeral just yesterday.  Alister.

He looks the same as when you saw him last - disheveled, dirty, and somewhat dazed looking.  He slides into the office, quietly closing the door behind him.

"Hello Alister." Ray says.  "How did--" 

"Your friends."  Alister interrupts before Ray can go any further. "You friends are going to _die_ Dr. Silver."  Alister is looking down as he says this, seemingly unable to meet Ray's eyes.  "The biggest integer of all is going to kill them.  *Crush* them beneath it's bulk.  Numbers are heavy, know what I mean?  I just thought you should know."  He takes a seat in one of the leather office chairs and begins to look glumly at his hands.  _Ray, you can't help but notice crusted dirt all over Alister's clothes.  He must have been almost rolling in mud last night._

*Elsewhere, at the Pickman House...*

The group at Julia's house quickly breaks up and begins to investigate the murder of Alan.  Julia provides a set of keys to Stephen and Alex, which will open not only his office door, but the main door for the math department.  Kristof, Kelly, and Randy are given a list of four possible contacts to meet and speak with.  She also wrote some notes to each one, giving a little background.


1)  *Hector Kile* - Student.  Probably in class about now.  Was next to Alan on the campus sidewalk when he had his heart attack.  Was with him all the time, called 911 and performed CPR.  Has never been a student of Alan's.  Good kid.

2)  *Professor Amber Reyes* - Mathematics Chairwoman.  At the campus now.  Recently elected.  Has never liked Alan or me for some reason.  If you need something done or need to find something out *officially* at the campus - you have to go through her.

3)  *Sam Miles* - Professor.  At home.  All of you met him yesterday, wonderful man.  He will answer any questions you might have.  He has some business to attend to later tonight (he says he'll be out of town) but I'll call him and let him know you're coming.

4)  *Tracey Kemper* - Former Student.  She is the only member of the i Society that I know very well.  She is currently committed at the Newcastle Sanitarium in Santa Barbara.  I don't know if you would be let in to see her, I can't ask them to let you in.  Maybe if you know someone that can help you there, I don't know.  She was there that night.  I've never asked her about it, she's never told me.


_Randy, your office gives you a bit of a hassle, but you manage to browbeat them into giving you the time off._

OOC: So whom do you wish to visit first, hmmm? FYI - Santa Barbara is about an hour and a half from your present location.  I will post the Alex/Stephen investigation in about an hour..! (lunch for me)


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## The Crimster (Jul 22, 2002)

Stephen and Alex leave from the Pickman house and head over to UCLA.  On the car ride over to UCLA they catch up on each other's lives, but yesterday's events seems to be a far more interesting topic, at least to Stephen.  Traffic is surprisingly light, and within a half-hour they are pulling into a parking space in one of the many parking lots.

The campus is filled with people, most hurrying to their classes or cars.  Alex, who has been here before (he shivers at the thought of that horrific art history class he once took here), leads the way.  Within a matter of minutes, they are standing in a hallway in the mathematics building, just outside an office door.  An elderly man in a gray jumpsuit is working on the door with a small razor-like tool.  He appears to be scraping away the black lettering that says, "Office of Professor Pickman".  He is whistling in tune with a small radio set into the hall ("We Didn't Start The Fire" by Billy Joel).  He turns to the two and smiles broadly.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen."  He then turns back to his work, and continues to whistle.

OOC: It's a nice cheery day at UCLA.  Won't you all come out and play?


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## Anabstercorian (Jul 22, 2002)

Alex smiles.  "Good morning to you too!  I'm sorry - We need to get in there for a moment and retrieve some files.  Would it be all right if we passed through for a moment?"

Stephen, on his part, is looking a little bored, glancing at the walls and ceilings with a disinterested eye.


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## The Crimster (Jul 22, 2002)

The old worker straightens out, and smiles again.

"Sure, sure.  They're cleanin' the place out, though.  I think the unclaimed papers pile is in there somewheres, but you can check with the secretary.  She'll help you out."  He opens the door for you, and smiles graciously once more.

Peeking inside, you can see it is a two room office.  The first room is obviously for the secretary, and contains a desk, chairs, and a couple of filing cabinets.  A woman in beige suit is on her hands and knees, pulling together a pile of paper into a single stack.  Her back is to you, and it appears she does not notice you.

The second room has it's door mostly closed, but you can see and hear people inside of it.

Billy Joel continues to sing about a great fire, and how it's _always_ been here.


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## Anabstercorian (Jul 23, 2002)

Steven glances at Alex.  "I'll take the back room - I'm good at fast talking academic-types.  You deal with the secretary."

Alex looks at Steven incredulously.  "Steven, we're claiming old notes, not robbing a bank."
"Right, right."

They step in, and Alex enters the rear room, as Alex looks down to the secretary.  "Hi there.  I'm Alex - an old friend of Alan.  I'm here to pick up some old belonging's of his..."


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## Spoof (Jul 24, 2002)

*Randy Morrison*

Randy Goes to his car after informing Alex of the student at the college that was there when Alan died, and asks him so see if the kid noticed anything strange about the professors death.

Randy will first visit Tracey Kemper, at the mental hospital, so see if she knows anything that could be helpful.


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## Isida Kep'Tukari (Jul 24, 2002)

The Crimster said:
			
		

> *After a few moments, Ray hears a scratching at his office door.  It sounds as if a rather large rat is trying to get in.  Before he can react, the door knob turns, revealing the pale face that he saw at the funeral just yesterday.  Alister.
> 
> He looks the same as when you saw him last - disheveled, dirty, and somewhat dazed looking.  He slides into the office, quietly closing the door behind him.
> 
> ...




"How - ," Ray starts uncertainly, "exactly are they going to die?  I don't know that much about numbers, I'm afraid, never did.  It took Alan's help just to pass college math; so I never got into the theoretical numbers thing..."  Ray trails off, and looks hard at Alister, hoping that mentioning Alan's name will get a more solid reaction out of him.  His patience for riddles is about shot after last night.


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## The Crimster (Jul 24, 2002)

OOC: Excellent! I'm going to wait just a wee bit more to see if Black Omega answers....


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## The Crimster (Jul 25, 2002)

Stephen walks past the secretary and pushes open the door that leads into Professor Pickman's former office.  There are four men in this room, all wearing coveralls and painting hats.  The office is a shambles - it looks like they are trying to expand the room or connect it to a nearby office.  The men are literally tearing apart the walls with picks and axes, and the air is thick with the smell of plaster.

One of them steps forward and wipes caked dirt off of his forehead with a rag.  "Sorry, kid.  Teacher's not here."  The look on his face is that of someone who has nothing but contempt for college-kids.  The other workers look on at the exchange with equal amounts of scowling and snickering.

Meanwhile, Alex steps into the front office, the door closing behind him.  He looks down at the crouching secretary.  "Hi there. I'm Alex - an old friend of Alan's. I'm here to pick up some old belonging's of his..."  As the secretary rises to greet him, Alan begins to suddenly feel... odd.  It is almost as if he can feel his brain _pulsing_.  There is a sharp pain at the front of his forehead for a brief second, and then it is gone.  And in it's place... something else...

The secretary stands and looks at Alex with a quirky smile. She is young and willowy, perhaps 18 or so, her hair done in a pitch black that is obviously dyed.  Her clothing attire however is pure business, accentuating a perhaps too-thin body.  Cute, perhaps except for the dark shadows underneath her eyes.  _And the bizarre slug-like creature that seemingly floats about her as if it were a pet!_

It is almost translucent, and reminds Alex of nothing less than a barracuda - A 2 and 1/2 foot long strip of mottled flesh capped by a row of razor sharp teeth.  But not like normal teeth - each one looks like a sharpened needle, or syringe.  The creature seemingly swims through the _air_, and constantly seems to be grinding it's teeth as if hungry.  The girl seems oblivious to it.

Alex steps back, in horror - momentarily stunned.  The secretary gives a brief high pitched giggle and smiles.  "Are you ok? Anything I can help you with?"


*Elsewhere...*

Randy hops in his car and begins the long drive to the asylum.  _Care Facility_, he reminds himself.  _Whatever you want to call it in the age of political correctness, it's still the place where you store the loons._

As he's driving up, he remembers what Julia said - it may require a bit of work to be allowed in to see the girl.  Normally when a patient is _really_ bad off, only relatives or doctors can get in to see them.  And usually only with supervision.  _Which probably won't do for the things I need to ask her..._  Randy looks down at his cell phone and ponders what to do.


*Elsewhere...*

"How - ," Ray starts uncertainly, "exactly are they going to die? I don't know that much about numbers, I'm afraid, never did. It took Alan's help just to pass college math; so I never got into the theoretical numbers thing..." Ray trails off, and looks hard at Alister, hoping that mentioning Alan's name will get a more solid reaction out of him. His patience for riddles is about shot after last night.

Alister looks at Ray with a mixture of sadness and sympathy.  "It's ok, Doc Silver.  Knowing math isn't all it's cracked up to be, ask Alan."  Alister grabs a marble bookend from Ray's desk and begins to examine it close-up, unmindful of the books that begin to fall, domino-like, to the floor.

"I mean they're going to die, Doc." says Alister, before Ray can say anything about the books.  "They're going to get pierced, shot, cut, stabbed, stepped-on, and then one of them is going to have their brains sucked out through the back of their skull."  He continues to inspect the bookend with total fascination.  His lips continue to move, however. 

"I've seen it, because the path of numbers is a doorway to both the past and the future.  Alan was the greatest of us, and the best at keeping it together.  It was a gift for destroying God.  _He_ means well, Doc.  He wants God to come back.  But if he is successful, if it works - if he finds _what is lost_ - every single digit *ever* rolls back to zero.  Trust me on this one, Doc."  Alister looks up and sets down the bookend.  He looks at the fallen group of books as if utterly surprised.

_Ray, you can clearly see a host of small insects - probably mites - writhing in and out of Alister's hair.  Some even stray into his face, but as usual he does not notice._


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## Anabstercorian (Jul 25, 2002)

*Stephen and Alex*

Stephen curls his lips in irritation.  "Whatever.  I'm just looking for some of Dr. Pickman's old papers, on behalf of his widow, Julia Pickman.  I'll stay out of the way as much as I can."  He goes through whatever cabinets are accessible and Searches for any papers regarding the Incident with the i Society, or ANYTHING regarding the i Society, the Scarlet King or Queen, or freaky demon bees, all while doing his best to avoid getting in the way of construction.

Alex, on his part, isn't doing quite as well.  He stares at the barracuda thing for a good three seconds before he realizes that _she can't see it._  Finally he manages to make eye contact.  "Sorry, I - There was a huge, huge fly buzzing around your head, and I'm deathly afraid of insects.  Anyway, I'm looking for some old papers that used to belong to Dr. Pickman...  Do you think you could help me find them?"  He continues to glance at the barracuda thing whenever she isn't looking directly at him.  If she's really not paying attention he might even take a swipe at it to see what happens.


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## Isida Kep'Tukari (Jul 29, 2002)

_*Ray blinks, disturbed by Alister's words as well as the callous treatment of his books*_

"Is there any way we can protect outselves then Alister?  Anyway we can prevent others from finding this 'what is lost,' if it's so dangerous?"

_*Maybe if I humor him...*_


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## The Crimster (Jul 30, 2002)

Stephen says a few words to the workers and then begins to search throughout the remaining cabinets and desk.  Some of the workers turn back to their work, slamming hammers and axes into the walls, trying to break through for a future expansion, perhaps.  One of them closes the door, mumbling something about not disturbing everyone with their pounding.  The room has the distinct smell of sweat and hard work, making the air almost unbreathable.

During the first few minutes of the search, Stephen realizes that it could take quite some time.  Each drawer is literally filled to overflowing with paperwork.  _Did this guy ever throw *anything* away? _ He muses.  Most of it is useless - homework, term papers, reports.

"So what are you looking for, again?" softly asks one of the workers on the other side of the room.

Crouched over a pile of papers in the center of the floor, Stephen looks up absently at the worker.  He's about 30 or so, his white shirt covered in sweat and plaster.  A smile seems to light up his face, as if happy to be able to take a break from what must be tiring work.  Not too bad looking, in a way - perhaps a bit too short and thin.  More of a librarian-type than a blue-collar.  Looking back down at some poorly drawn Maltin theorems, Stephen responds.  "Papers.  Belonging to Doctor Pickman.  Don't worry, I'll stay out of your way."

The voice that suddenly comes from behind Stephen is pitched low - almost like a growl.  "It's _Professor_ Pickman, you piece of squirrel crap."

Stephen's head whips around fast enough to see one of the workers - a tall, gangly looking man - bringing down a sledgehammer towards his face.  Without thinking, Stephen tries to duck and raises his hand in a vain attempt to ward it off.  The hammer slams into Stephen's hand, crushing it with the sound of wet twigs snapping.  Stephen cries out in pain as he feels several of the bones in his hand shatter.  Unable to rise, Stephen half-falls, half-rolls to the ground trying to get out of the range of his attacker.

Then he realizes the other workers have hefted their work tools, and are advancing with maniacal grins. 

Stephen, his body filled with adrenaline and pain, can only think one coherent thought: _Not workers at all but *them* and they're looking for *something* and I have to warn Alex!_


*Meanwhile, just outside that room...*

Alex looks at the receptionist, and away from the floating _thing_ that seems to circle her like a shark. "Sorry, I - There was a huge, huge fly buzzing around your head, and I'm deathly afraid of insects. Anyway, I'm looking for some old papers that used to belong to Dr. Pickman... Do you think you could help me find them?"

 "A huge fly, hunh?"  The receptionist giggles again. She walks around the desk and sits down, and begins to pick up her purse.  "Sure thing, I think I might have something for you."

_Alex, you look over and see that the door to Alan's office is closed.  Odd.  Your forehead starts to hurt again, too.  You look at the receptionist, and back at the door.  You feel woozy, all of a sudden.  Sweat has popped out on your brow.  Then, you see it - on the receptionist's hand, as she begins to pull something out of her purse.  A single letter tattooed on the back of her hand - a lower case i.  And what she's bringing out of the purse? A huge .45.  You have but moments to act._


*Meanwhile, at the office of Dr. Ray Silver...*

"Is there any way we can protect ourselves then Alister?" Ray asks.  "Anyway we can prevent others from finding this 'what is lost,' if it's so dangerous?"

Alister nods, and brushes his lanky hair back (dislodging onto the carpet quite a few of his... friends).  "Yeah.  You have to.  They're all at the University, trying to find it.  You'll try and find it, too.  But the King hid it good.  And they can't even see it, those who have the third eye.  But what I can see is that it _will_ be found - because I can see the numbers, and how they're stretching towards something.  Towards a finding."

Alister looks down into his lap, and begins to move his hand as if he is writing something, though he holds no pen.

"_He_ told me to not interfere, because I wasn't a _believer_.  But how could I not be a believer? I just know that everything becoming *nil* is not... good.  It's not the natural state of numbers to be nil.  And numbers are good.  Numbers are very, very good."  Alister looks up at Ray with a bit of fear in his eyes.

"I hope, for the sake of numbers - not to mention what you call reality and life - that you know numbers.  Or that one of you does.  Because if not, God's coming back.  And I don't think he's going to be happy, Mr. Ray.  Not one bit."


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## Spoof (Jul 30, 2002)

*Randy Morrison*

Randy looks at the phone while wondering what he needs to do to get into see the young woman.  As he drives he punches in Julia’s number.  

“Julia hi is Randy.  Did your husband ever go to see Tracey at the hospital?  I know that when I was put in the institution after what happened to Susan, I gave the staff a password that allowed anyone who knew it to visit me, any time of the day, Did Alan and Tracey have such a word, and do you know what it might be?”

If she does not know of any password I will contact the a friend in the Agency to get me clearance into see the patient on the excuse that she might be needed as a correspondent to a murder of friend of hers.  

As Randy drives along the road he wonders why the dreams are starting to return.  He has not had nightmares for years; ever since he met Professor Pickman, and why not what he is dead are the starting again.  Randy thinks back to when he first met Alan, after being referred to him by a friend that went to the college that Professor Alan taught at, regarding the mathematical symbol Randy always seemed obsessed with.

_ “Professor Pickman, my name is Randy Morrison and I am working on a murder case.”  At that point I showed him my badge and he invited me into his office to sit and talk. 

“Mr. Pickman..”

“Please call me Alan”

“Very well, Alan, I need your help with something.  A few years back a young woman was brutally murdered in her apartment near the college she was attending in upstate Washington State.  I was talking to Tommy Blackman, a student of yours at one time I believe.  Anyway he told me that while you seemed a little eccentric you were the best math professor he had ever seen.  So I have come here to ask your help with this case.”

Randy then extended a, envelope containing some 8x11 pictures to Alan, as he reached for them Randy grabbed his hand and said “Mr. Pickman these are quite…..”  Rand’s voice trailed off at that point as the professor’s face drained of all color and he started to shake visibly.  “Mr. Pickman are you ok?”

Alan with a voice filled with horror whispers “I can see her, I can see what they did to her.  Oh you poor man you have lived with this everyday with no one able to help you.  I promise you I will do everything I can to help you find the monsters that did that to your girlfriend, I swear.”_

Randy shakes himself out of the memories and sets himself for the task ahead, and pulls a picture out of his jacket “I promise Susan I will find them and make them pay for what they did to you,  I still love you and I will see you again my love, I promise”


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## Anabstercorian (Jul 30, 2002)

Stephen cries out loudly, trying to roll away in that smooth motion that usually comes so easily to him, but seems to be eluding him now.  As he kneels, he brings himself to his feet, drawing his gun in the same smooth motion.  He snarls, biting back tears.
"They were boring papers anyway," he mutters, gripping his gun and pulling the trigger over and over and over, firing towards their chests and heads.  "Back the  *off*, face!"  His gaze flits from worker to worker, angry and terrified like a cornered animal, his shattered hand held miserably against his chest.
He glances behind him.  Maybe the window...  Hard to miss a window that size.

[I'm using a MEV to stand up.  Since I have a BAB of +1, I can draw my gun in the same motion.  Then I'm basically readying an action - First motherfugga to get within five feet of me gets three to the chest, the rest of my shots have no measurable chance of hitting.  I should use up about 9-12 of my bullets with this actions, 1d4+8.]

Alex, for his part, simply launches himself at her as hard as he can, ignoring the strange creature and the sound of guns and screams in the next room, hoping to knock her off balance.

[Charging disarm attempt.]


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## The Crimster (Jul 30, 2002)

OOC: Here is a map that will chill you to the bone with how realistic it is.


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## Isida Kep'Tukari (Aug 7, 2002)

"There's someone I know that knows numbers.  They're trying to figure out what this all means, today even."

_*Ray blinks a moment, then remembers the letter from last night*_

"Alister, do you know Tracy?" _he asks in a hope that might get some more information out of him._









*OOC:*


 - I'm off to GenCon!  Back in action Wednesday!  













*OOC:*


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## Isida Kep'Tukari (Aug 25, 2002)

*OOC:*


_Pokes the thread with a slimy tentacle._  I think it's dead Jim.


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## Anabstercorian (Sep 3, 2002)

OOC: What a shame.  It was a good game...  Hopefully it'll come back.  :: casts Dark Resurrection ::


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