A Walk in the Park

[Eilonwy Solstice]

I didn’t think this needed posting, but . . . Bert insisted, even though it’s been a while. Anyway, here it is.

Ever since my encounter with the Harbingers, I had been waiting for the day when I felt well enough to go out and search for the ruins; and more specifically, the diamond ring.
The day finally came on Friday the tenth, in August. I woke up earlier than usual; four a.m. I meditated for thirty minutes, half my ordinary time, and raced through my shower, not even bothering to set the water to the normal warmth I liked. Hastily wrapping my hair in a towel and shrugging into a bathrobe, I retreated into my room to dress, giving my damp hair a periodic shakedown with the towel. When Hannah knocked on my door and discovered I was headed out again, the only thing that kept her from getting Ron to lock me in the closet was my promise to call them on my cellphone if anything happened.

My watch read five minutes to five when I left the door and started on the path that I had taken a couple weeks back . . . but something was wrong. Even with the time difference to make up for it, everything was different. The pavement was far too even, the ground beneath my feet was unbroken. Everything somehow seemed fresh and new; the dilapidated feel had been lost. The wind chilled my head as it threw my hair into even greater disarray. I got a bad feeling about this . . . I slowly reached for my purse and my cellphone within . . . but no, not yet. Surely I was just lost . . . .

I lowered my head and took a breath to clear my feelings, calm my emotions. My thoughts began to wander and return, cats on the prowl, cells on the divide . . . I Opened myself to the world unseen even by those with eyes, drinking in the sensations they brought . . . .

But I couldn’t get a read on the place; there were too many people during the ordinary times. I Recalled that day I found Ben . . . this was getting aggravating. It was like I had been in a half dream when it happened, I couldn’t remember all the details. I wandered down the pavement in hopes of catching a snippet of something familiar, something that would link me back. But nothing revealed itself, so I ended up wandering even farther. Grass and pounded dirt were under my feet, which couldn’t be right; I had been on concrete or gravel. Now I had stepped off a sidewalk or something. A large tree revealed itself to my sweeping staff, that couldn’t be right? I kept going, concrete was under my feet again. Another sidewalk . . .?

“Eilonwy?”

. . .?

I turned to the sound of the voice, but the butt of my staff got caught onto something. It yanked out of my hands just as someone started jogging toward me. Discomfited, I knelt to pick it back up . . . and then something slammed into the side of my head.

[Eilonwy Solstice]

I need to get my mind . . . unfocused, something beyond meditating. This hardly seems the time to post about the past, but I . . . feel as though it is somehow required to find a clue . . . .


I grabbed my forehead in pain, a simultaneous action with someone’s loud swearing.

“Bert?” I questioned, rubbing my head and feeling around, my fingers swiping the material of his jacket. “What are you doing here?”

“Searching for your ring,” he responded in a muffled voice, likely rubbing the site of his own injury.

My hands touched the ground and started searching. I tried to hide my grimace. But gosh, that had hurt . . . . “Why?” I asked.

“Because I wanted to find it for you. What, can’t a guy search for a friend’s missing ring? Here’s your—”

He was interrupted by a bike horn.

“Get off your butt, punk, and move outta the way!” Laughter exploded in the air and some bicycle wheels narrowly missed my hand. The boy zoomed past, laughing when I sprawled against the ground. But the next one wasn’t so lucky.

“Whoa!” Another boy’s voice hollered in alarm; the sound of a light crash and a body being thrown to the ground. “Why doncha watch where you drop that thing!” he screamed. Under his breath, Bert growled several swear words while he climbed to his feet.

“Beat it, twerp!” he roared. The boy apologized profusely, righted his fallen bike, and rode off. I directed my face at Bert sternly; he had half a mind to go chasing after the two kids; I knew that without even reading him. We were both embarrassed by the mishap, he muttering something I couldn’t make out and me frantically searching for my staff. I wasn’t used to smacking headfirst into a man and nearly getting run over; by the sound of it, it wasn’t a daily routine for him, either. He cautiously knelt beside me as I searched on my hands and knees. “Here’s your staff, Eilonwy. That dumb kid ran over it, but it looks all right.”

“Where, specifically?” I snapped, reaching out, finding his shoulder, and intentionally slapping it.

“Right here in front of you.” He tapped the back of my knuckles with the lion head. I took it and got to my feet, pursing my lips and wishing my head would quit aching.

Bert tried to examine my forehead, but my palm was against his chest and gently pushing him away, rubbing my head again with two fingers of my other hand. He certainly knew how to hit a lady; not sure what I had collided with, but it felt like a rock. “Alright, I’ll leave ya alone then,” he said bracingly. “If you need help point this skyward and pull the trigger. It’s a flare gun.”

“Why on earth would I need a flare gun, Bert? I’m in a park . . . I think. Filled with dozens of people. What could happen?”

“Just humor me. Please,” he pleaded.

I shook my head gently. “Please let me search by myself.” I hoped he nodded.

“You’re getting a bruise already.” Bert brushed my hair back with his fingers and touched the tender spot. I flinched and batted his hand away; he sighed once more. “Wait just a second.” I knit my eyebrows as he stayed put, folding my arms and trying to imagine what he was doing. He was rummaging for something in his coat pockets, I think. “That’s some aspirin and some water. I can’t do anything about the bruising, though.” He brushed my hands with his and left two tokens in my right hand.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, lifting my knee to brace my staff against it, transferring the pill to my mouth and putting the water bottle to my lips. He told me to keep the bottle. I retreated.

“Hey! You forgot this!” He called out as I began walking away. I didn’t have to feel it to guess what it was.

“No I didn’t! I don’t need it!”

[Bert_the_Turtle]

Ya sure know how to make a guy feel small Ei...

[Eilonwy Solstice]

Bert, I already apologized for what happened . . . .

[Bert_the_Turtle]

Yip, but they don't know what happened yet.

[Eilonwy Solstice]

Yip, but they don't know what happened yet.

Sigh . . . true. Well, here is the next installment:


After several minutes, I held my staff out away from me, brushing the grass with the tip. Once it struck what could pass as a bench leg, I got off the sidewalk, made sure the obstruction was indeed a bench, and felt for a spot to sit down. It had emptied of people the moment I had approached, so I had plenty of room. I sighed, Closing myself, folded my legs, and reached down to rub an itch on my ankle, musing quietly.

None of this made sense. I was certain I had the correct spot . . . yet it obviously wasn’t. There was no backrest, so I leaned forward to cradle my elbows on my knees. Seconds later, someone large stepped up from my right.

“This seat taken?” His voice was loud, obnoxious. I shook my head no, and he sat down right beside me. I had the impression he was staring at my face; but I couldn’t prove it, so I repressed my shudder and shifted, folding my right leg over my left.

“Name’s Jack Tremaine,” he said, thrusting out. I didn’t want to search for his hand, so I sat still.

“You seem a little young to be carrying a cane around. And your legs don’t exactly hurt a man’s eyes, neither.”

“Sorry; I’ll get it out of your way.” I regretted wearing shorts today and transferred my staff from my right side to my left, pointedly ignoring his remark.

“No, no,” he assured me. “I was just wondering if you hurt yourself or something. You don’t see too many bodies toting those things around, ya know.”

I cleared my throat emphatically.

“Wouldja look at that crapper.” I think he changed the subject, moving his weight around; presumably to point out whatever “that crapper” was.

Someone was telling the milling crowd to gather around. I heard scraping and the uneven weight of hard objects being dropped onto the sidewalk. The vendor proclaimed himself “Mandarin the Marvelous,” guaranteeing visions of the future, psychic phenomena revealed, dead spirits revived, and the secrets of the universe exposed. I recalled a promotional ad I had heard on the radio while working on a sculpture the other day. He was supposed to be a renowned psychic of some repute. Ron hadn’t been interested, and I hadn’t talked to Hannah about it . . . but it would be interesting to find out if he was the real thing or not.

“Think I’d like to see this,” Tremaine openly sneered, getting up. Sighing, I followed.

“Me, too.”

[Logos]

Sorry to hear that things were going so rough for you... Have things gotten any easier as time goes on?

[Eilonwy Solstice]

Sorry to hear that things were going so rough for you... Have things gotten any easier as time goes on?

I would like to think so. Well, might as well write up the next scene. Get my mind off Sakura’s latest development . . . .


“Gather ‘round, gather ‘round,” Mandarin called out with professional theatricality, reiterating what I had heard on the radio. “Today, you will witness the astounding powers of—”

“Just pull a rabbit outta your crack already, Houdini!” Tremaine shouted. Someone roll their eyes for me? I tried to move away from him as tactfully as possible, apologizing when I jostled someone.

“Pipe down, Jack!” the older man beside me countered. “Let him start!” He leaned toward me a little and said, “He needs to learn a few manners.” I shrugged, holding back my groan when Tremaine pushed his way toward me, nudging me into the old man. We both cleared our throats. “Can you see?” the older man asked me. I raised my eyebrows, shrugged again, and tilted my head to the side as though to see past an invisible head. Then I Opened myself as Mandarin started.

I felt a sudden chill ice my skin. My psyche felt oddly limp; a stark contrast to the inflation of supernatural monsters. There was an eerie, siphoning effect in the air, a sponge for psychic power, a conduit of negative energy. I gripped my staff harder; with difficulty, my psyche Opened. It was like trying to open a door that had a four foot snowdrift barring the way. I knit my brows in confusion; what was going on?

The first part of the act began with a member of the standing audience being chosen out of the crowd. This process was done by Mandarin dramatically declaring he would find the individual with the most pain, which he would then absolve through his psychic powers. I wasn’t sure what happened, but I heard a shattering of glass and people gasping. By the crowd’s excited chattering, I gathered Mandarin had simply pointed his finger, waved it at the crowd, and her glass mug broke without being touched.

But I had sensed nothing.

[Shadowstalker]

Hmm decidedly strange.

[Sophoroto]

Hmm, I wonder if he has powers or if someone in the crowd was just working with him and had a trick mug.

[Koralth]

Yeah, but that doesn't explain the energy siphon...

[D.E.U.S.]

Miss Solstice, we would certainly appreciate as much information about this phenomenon as possible. Any details, no matter how minute, may be of utmost importance.

[Eilonwy Solstice]

Disappointed in what was probably an elaborate setup, I was about to leave when Tremaine decided to put his obnoxiousness to use. In the middle of the performance, he put Mandarin on the spot, demanding that the psychic perform various tasks that were apparently beyond Mandarin’s power. Some took up the hue and cry and others defended the charlatan; I overheard one woman beg that he tell her what happened to her son. But after that, it was impossible for me to discern what was happening. Tremaine seemed to have found another clue that proved beyond reasonable doubt that the abilities seen today were nothing more than chicanery. That’s when people really started getting angry. I was pushed this way and that way as those behind me elbowed their way to the evidence. The older man next to me grabbed me by the shoulders and swung me around and set my back to a tree. Then he disappeared among the crowd. All I could do was stay put and hope the mob would disperse soon. Furious shouts, angry sobs, and sounds of violence filled the air. And just as quickly, it started to swirl away as Mandarin fled.

In the broken silence, snide chuckling and a stern reprimand could be heard.

“Wipe that cheesy grin off your mug, Jack. I’d like to remind you we likely ruined that man’s livelihood. And I was hoping so bad we would be wrong this time . . . .”

“Come on, Max. We both know we’re never wrong. The quack had it coming. Nobody should make money off gypping the public.”

Hearing someone else softly crying, I edged away and followed the melancholy sound.

“Hey, it’s you! What did you think of the show, eh?” Jack called out to me, while Max added, “Are you all right, ma’am?”

“Excuse me,” I twisted free of Jack’s touch, my skin feeling chill once more as the men followed me. Stroking my staff across the ground, I tailed the woman’s choked cries. As I got closer to her, I recognized her voice as the one begging for information on her son. I gingerly meandered my way down a small incline, and suddenly found myself hugging her with my right arm. My eyebrows furrowed, and eager to ease her pain, I fought through the negative barrier that clouded my psyche and Read her.

“You’ve . . . been through much agony,” I whispered as the images formed in my mind’s eye. “Your husband died last year . . . your son disappeared shortly after that . . .” I jerked away as though burned. It was difficult to separate her pain from mine.

[Shadowstalker]

A couple of Nega's maybe?

[Eilonwy Solstice]

A couple of Nega's maybe?

. . . Nega’s? Wasn’t Debunker . . . accused of being one? So . . . what do they do, exactly? This energy drain was just that . . . it sapped my psyche as though a sponge had been dropped into a pitcher of water. It was like I couldn’t focus my energy or my thoughts very well . . . .



“How . . . do you know that?” her voice was just above a whisper.

“Do you still have his ring?” I asked instead, her memories still sharp in my mind.

“Yes . . . here it is.” A small trinket was pushed into my hand. There was awe in her voice.

Balancing it in my palm, I moved it to my fingers, felt it with my thumb, struggled through static to immerse myself in the impressions it gave off like heat from a burning coal. Images played across my mind. He tried to help others throughout his life; he started into drugs after his father died; and he . . . .

“He’s alive,” I breathed heavily; “and not far from here. He’s . . . afraid to come home.”

“Why?” Her hand was on my back. I was alarmed to find myself on my hands and knees, the ring held tightly in my fist. “Why would he be afraid to come home?”

“I don’t know,” I shook my head, trying to remember the feelings that had been evoked. I was squeezing the ring so hard my hand was cramping. My fingers were stiff as I opened them. “He . . . blames himself. For your husband’s death.”

Further discussion was disrupted as a burly arm took me under my shoulder and helped me to my feet rather roughly. “Well, well, well,” Jack’s voice scoffed. “I would have thought you would have tried your act with your buddy. But maybe you’re smarter than he was? Maybe you didn’t want us making a fool of you in such a big crowd?”

The ring was taken from my palm. “Your ring, ma’am,” Max said politely. “I would suggest you go home and forget everything. It’s not worth reopening your pain.” The woman didn’t say anything, but slowly started to retreat. The older man turned his attention to me. “I’m surprised at you. Mrs. Grady has been through enough hell to last three lifetimes. Shame on you; giving her false hope for nothing more than a publicity stunt . . . .”

I was feeling tired and drained, and not in the mood to have my intentions ridiculed. I tried to shrug free of Tremaine’s hold, but he was relentless. “Shame, shame, shame!” he jeered, shouldering me aside; feeling like I had run ten marathons in a row, I stumbled and fell on my face. “Shame on you, preying on old ladies! Why doncha tell my future, huh? Huh?”

“Jack . . .” his comrade sighed quietly. A pounding in my ears sounded. “You can be more mature than that . . . Jack!” The pounding was of feet, followed by a “Huh?” from Jack, and then a bone-crushing explosion of knuckles on teeth.

“Oh, big man when you’re taking on a blind girl, huh? Is that how you get your kicks? Is it?” It sounded like the newest voice was getting his kicks out of . . . kicking Jack while he was prone. He rounded on Max as the older man tried to aid his rude companion.

“Sir! Please calm down!” Max tried peaceful negotiation. “Don’t act childishly; we don’t want to call the police on you—”

“Oooh, call them on me?” The other replied disdainfully. “How about you!? Why don’t you pick on someone your own size, ya mother loving son of a . . .?!” He went into a stream of profanities. “Or is harassing blind girls more your style?”
I managed to push myself off my face, and my arms shook with the effort. Then I tried getting my defender’s attention by speaking his name in disbelief.

“Bert the Turtle.”

[Shadowstalker]

Heh, if I had been there I may well have acted in a similar fashion as Bert had.
I have encoutered a few Nega's myself. When they are around me it feels like I am trying to make my way through a thick fog. I can still use all of my normal senses but I feel half blind. Sorry bad analogy.
So what happened next If I may ask?

[GhostSpider]

So far I've met five negs.

Four are dead, the fifth I left in a hospital, on life-support.

[Shadowstalker]

Ok I will be the one to ask why? Most of the time they are misguided, and a pain, but I have not had to do more than slug any of the ones I have met.

[GhostSpider]

They were part of some religious cult that was assaulting "Demon touched" people. In other words, any one who showed even slight discomfort in their presence. I only know of twenty victims, but there are probably many more.

We only met by chance, but they noticed how I reacted while in their presence, and tried to attack me.

I wasn't thinking straight, I really didn't mean to go so far. Still, I don't regret killing them. I really don't like negs.

[Shadowstalker]

In that case I can't entirely fault you, thou I would have tried to restrain myself if I had been in your place, and had them arrested, prosecuted, and Jailed for their crimes. You may have made them Martyers to their twisted cause. Thou I know that was not your intent Ghost.

[Eilonwy Solstice]

So what happened next If I may ask?

Thankfully, not much. Although, come to think of it, that’s when a portion of Ron’s security footage was taken . . .?


Bert rushed to my side, kneeling and grabbing my hand in his. “You all right, hon? Ah, jeeze . . . you’re skin’s like ice . . .” he covered me in his trench coat and helped me to my feet, one arm held protectively around me. “Come near her again and I’ll flay your skin, duct tape C4 to every hair on your body, dowse ya in gasoline, and set you alight!”

“Bert, please . . . my staff?” I was shivering uncontrollably against his chest. “I just want to go home, please . . .”

“Sure. Sure, of course . . .” he kept hold of my hand as he knelt, picked up my staff, and led me away, rubbing my arms vigorously. By the silent, shuffling feet of Max and Jack, they were watching us leave. However, they sensed the seriousness of Bert’s threat against them. They wouldn’t try anything with him there.

Bert called a cab and helped me inside. By the hasty route the cabbie took, I was wondering if the soldier had slipped him a little extra. We were sidling up to the house’s curb in six minutes. I unlocked the door and Bert followed me inside, his hand not leaving my shoulder.

“Why don’t you take a hot bath?” he suggested. “I’ll make some coffee.”

“No coffee,” I shook my head instantly, though I liked his suggestion about the bath. “Or tea. Or . . .” I closed my mouth.

“Hot chocolate? Cold? Plain milk? Water?” He started listing off beverages.

I cocked my head to the side and gingerly nodded. “Hot chocolate would be nice.”

“Hot chocolate it is then.”

I nodded my thanks, peeled off his trench coat, got the sleeve caught on my staff, shook it off, draped it on the back of a chair, and followed the wall to the bathroom.

Bert was gone before Ron and Hannah returned. I was starting to feel like myself again and did a bit of house cleaning, though Mr. Turtle had picked up after himself.

[Bert_the_Turtle]

Turtle to the Rescue! *Sounds a Bugle*

[KonThaak]

Yep. Just gotta stay patient, 'cuz he doesn't move like the hare...

I wish there were something I could do about all this...

[Bert_the_Turtle]

Send Ron some little fun sized marshmallows for Hot Chocolate?

[D.E.U.S.]

D.E.U.S. is glad you are all right Miss Solstice. But the offer still stands should you need it's help.

[Willie Long]

. . . Nega’s? Wasn’t Debunker . . . accused of being one?

Some people said he was, but I have my doubts. Back in L.A. he fought beside Huntress and I against dozens of crazies. The whole time we were together I never felt that draining chill you've described, and if Huntress did, it didn't seem to impair her.

Shame they aren't here to talk about it now.

Have you gone looking for young Mr. Grady?

***
Jack Tremaine.

[Prof. Rosecrest]

I may have an answer for you Willie. From what I have been able to gather, and from what Shadow has told me. You are what would be called a Natural, and Huntress claimed to be a Physical Psi.
Eilonwy, and Shadow are both of a more Sensitive Nature in the ablities. No slight to you Willie just a observation. My guess is that due to their talents they feel the effects of a Nega Psi the way that they do.
There is also the Fact that while Debunker was accused of being a Nega neither I, Shadow, or any of his team ever met Debunker. So his status as a Nega Psi is at best uncertain.
There is another fact that Eilonwy felt a rather extream reaction to the supposed Nega's. I think that she was in fact dealing with two Nega's. I have a theory that when you have more than one Nega Psi in close proximity to eachother that their powers stack, and the effect increases. It is only a theory that I have yet to verify. But I don't see it happening anytime soon.

[Willie Long]

No slight to you Willie just a observation.

None taken, Professor. I take it you'd classify most people as "Naturals"?

[Logos]

So, are negative psychic energies diffused from anyone who has a strong disbelief?

I seem to remember getting really upset and refusing to believe anything that was going on here for a while after Zack took off to save Ghostspider once.. Would that disbelief have caused...? Kinda like bad vibes, right?

[KonThaak]

It's possible, but people who are typically classified as "nega-psi"'s are constantly creating a field around them which neutralizes psychic and some magic energies. It does seem to be more aimed at those of a more sensitive persuasion, but with enough around in one area, they could disrupt more than that.

They're not always called "nega"'s, either... I originally just learned that they were people who disbelieved so strongly, that they couldn't be affected by magic. I had a friend who just called them "power sinks".

Whatever the term, those folks are out there... More "regular" people can create a smaller field around them by actively disbelieving in this stuff, but it isn't to the same effect, and it mostly just protects them from psychic and magical effects--even beneficial ones.