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

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

Bert_the_Turtle wrote: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 wrote: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.

Hmm decidedly strange.

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

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.

A couple of Nega's maybe?

Shadowstalker wrote: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.”

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?

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.

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.

Shadowstalker wrote: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.

Turtle to the Rescue! *Sounds a Bugle*

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

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

Send Ron some little fun sized marshmallows for Hot Chocolate?

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

Eilonwy Solstice wrote:. . . 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.

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.

Prof. Rosecrest wrote:No slight to you Willie just a observation.

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

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.