What Would Victor Lazlo Do?

[Cybermancer]

Not very convenient.

It was damn near an impossible situation. It was certainly intolerable. Innocents were killed when they were mistaken for dopplegangers. Many more were killed when dopplegangers went undetected.

[Ron Caliburn]

Speaking of dopplegangers. What of the alternate me? Not the other me that was apparently running around there, but that dream creature. Does it show up in your tale?

[Cybermancer]

Speaking of dopplegangers. What of the alternate me? Not the other me that was apparently running around there, but that dream creature. Does it show up in your tale?

Early on, I had hopes that Mordecai was in fact this timelines version of your nightmareself. When that didn't pan out, I hoped that he was a doppleganger. That didn't pan out either.

There was never any physical sign or manifestation of 'Not Ron'.

[Hannah]

The other me makes no mention of it in her notes to me. Maybe without the incident that created it in the first place, it just stayed in my nightmares.

Hannah.

PS: Last time I "beat" it. I actually reabsorbed some of it's power. Maybe not having spawned it helped fuel her magics?

PPS: Then again, the other Hannah had an offspring that I didn't. So perhaps that was the analog. So many possibilities when dealing with the impossible.

[Cybermancer]

Your alternate self had a lot of darkness inside of her, Hannah. It has only been touched on in this past tale. She was capable of being cruel and mean to her enemies. When someone she cared about, such as her son, was in jeapordy, she was fierce.

At times it seemed like I was constantly trying to reign her in. At the same time I had to help her deal with her nightmares and trauma. Because of her experiences, she harbored a great deal of resentment towards men. Had I not insisted on rescuing her right away... had I not immediately tried to retrieve her son... had any number of things happened differently... I shudder to think how she may have turned out.

Watching her battle the enemy, I was often reminded of her father. Not Mordecai (as I refer to Ron's alternate self, in case that has not been apparent), but Ron as we all know him here. Troubled and haunted, but using that to be relentless in their destruction.

Fortunately, there was an endless supply of enemy for her to vent her frustrations against.

[Cybermancer]

Of course, it wasn't always fighting for us.

Here's an e-journal entry that Darcy provided me.

Hi again folks!

Matt's been on me again to write up one of these here e-journal entries. He says I've got a lot of talent and I shouldn't waste it. I think the old man is just trying to flatter me so I'll do what he wants.

Alright, so I'm going to write but I'm going to choose the subject.

And if the old man don't like it, well, I'll just shoot him in the face!

Okay, so we were planning for a big day, see? But Hanners, who had only recently come to our world had nothing to wear. She had that slinky fey dress sure, but it wasn't overly modest. So we needed to get her some appropriate every day clothes too.

Fanus needed clothes too, so I got Hanners to wheedle him into coming along as well. I helped by pointing out that the big old world was a dangerous place and that it would be ungentlemanly of him to let us go out without his protection. It seemed to sway him. Slayer lent him some clothes to get him through the day.

I suppose I ought to mention that Fanus can change into a pretty normal looking dude when he wants to. The trick is getting him to want to. While Brutal ascribed to the cattle prod method of persuasion, he was firmly told by the old man to let Hanners handle his upbringing and discipline. Probably a good idea seeing as Fanus was a demi-god. I had visions the prod winding up someplace unpleasant in Brutals anatomy.

I drove of course. I was the only one of the three of us that could, you see. If it had been a tractor or a horse and buggy, Hanners would have driven the shit out of it. I wanted to take the 'stang but the old man wouldn't have it. Said it wasn't big enough for the three of us and anyway, he was scared I'd grind the gears or drive it too fast or something. What a wet blanket! Yeah, I'm talking about you, old man!

So we piled into the mini-van and headed for town.

We drove by one of them car wash places.

“We should go there!” Fanus announced as he pointed past my nose and out the window.

Hanners pushed him back to his seat. “Why, dear?”

“I saw a sign there.” He said. “It said 'Armor All'. I want to be sized for a new breast plate.”

“That seems like a good idea, actually.” Hanners said before turning to me, “I should get something too. Do they have anything that won't interfere with spellcasting?”

As you can see, they didn't quite get it.

In any case, we did eventually make it to the department store. I spent most of the trip explaining to them that they couldn't just buy armor from a store. They'd have to go see the old man for that sort of thing.

He'd (Matt, the old man) already complained about me growing out of the first outfit he made me. Well excuse me for having boobs!

Anyway, Hanners had a basic understanding of commerce which was a good thing since Fanus felt that the honor of serving him should be enough currency for these mortals. She was able to convince him to humour us.

So when we went in to the store and I dropped Fanus off in the men's wear section before dragging Hanners to the ladies section. I was just showing her the wonders of blue jeans when we looked up to see an arrow arc over several displays before landing someplace in home hardware. We both looked at each other. “Fanus!”

We found him in the sporting goods section complaining to the beleaguered shift manager. “This bow is complete garbage. That first shot went nowhere!” He held up the broken bow. “And when I gave it a full pull, it came apart!”

“Sir, you broke into our display and damaged our merchandise...”

“Surely that petty lock was not meant to keep one such as I out!” Fanus seemed flabbergasted, “clearly that miniscule lock was only a test to keep out the weak. And it wasn't warded at all!”

“Somebody has to pay for all this!”

I came to the rescue with the old mans credit card.

We didn't make the mistake of leaving Fanus alone again.

[Hannah]

Was I really that hopeless?

Hannah

[Cybermancer]

There was a period of adjustment as both you and Fanus learned to adjust to your new environment.

The 21st century was as alien an environment that either of you could imagine. As alien as the fey world may seem to a native of the mortal realm.

You adjusted much quicker than Fanus and in turned helped him cope.

Or perhaps it is better to say you helped us cope with him.

[Grace]

Was I really that obnoxious?

[Cybermancer]

Was?

[Grace]

Was?

If I didn't know better, I'd swear you were teasing me. Being playful even.

And here I was beginning to think your sense of humor may have been surgically removed along with having your anus sewn shut.

[Cessiel]

I find this whole story fascinating and wonder if I will be appearing within its text.

[Cybermancer]

I find this whole story fascinating and wonder if I will be appearing within its text.

Oh don't worry Cessiel. I have a story or two to tell the folks in regards to you.

I don't want to give it all away just yet, but you were eventually reunited with your daughter.

Does that make you happy, I wonder?

[Cybermancer]

Was?

If I didn't know better, I'd swear you were teasing me. Being playful even.

And here I was beginning to think your sense of humor may have been surgically removed along with having your anus sewn shut.

Contrary to what appears to be popular beleif, I do have a sense of humor. And I do tease people I like.

Speaking of people I like, I think I will rewind the narrative a bit.

I remember the first time I met Darcy. Not the one who here calls herself Nemesis. The Darcy I remember wound up calling herself Wilde, after the Irish writer. It was the name her father used.

As Nemesis has not seen fit to reveal her fathers name on these forums, I shall respect that and refer to him as Oscar.

The first time I met Darcy, she was working with her father. They had formed a very effective strike team along with Brutal and Slayer. The four of them had been striking out against the invaders for several years before the resistance made contact with them.

We had been aware of them for some time but there existed some apprehension in approaching them. Oscar's past was checkered at best. And I will admit, my own interactions with Nemesis may have colored my view to some degree. Some people have commented that perhaps my views of these others may be shading my view of some of you. The reverse is also true.

The four of them were also aware of us and had recently made it known through various channels that they wanted to join up.

They grabbed my attention by some fairly creative means. I was leading a mission to assassinate a state governor who was really an agent of the enemy. My team fought our way past their defenses both mundane and magical. When we finally got to the governors chambers, we found the creatures decapitated body but the head was missing. Pinned to the body was a note.

Beat ya to the punch, mate. And with less effort too, I might add. Maybe it's time we met, Aye?”

There were directions attached to the note, which I filed away. Then my team and I fought our way back out of the situation.

Of course, the whole attack was blamed on terrorists. A ploy that the government was using more and more. I suppose from a certain point of view they weren't entirely wrong although we preferred to think of ourselves as freedom fighters. Terror was not a weapon we used. At least, not my organization.

The message had instructed me to come alone to an Irish pub in Boston. Which I did although I had people nearby in case things got out of hand. Plus, I was fairly confident in my own abilities. And finally, I had decided to trust that this group of freedom fighters wasn't filling a contract out on my head. By this time the government was offering a cool million dollars. It was always heartening to see good, decent folk who didn't even try to collect the blood money.

I sat in a corner booth and watched the exit. Oscar arrived, only his daughter in tow. He was supposed to come alone but I imagine he supposed that I would see his teenaged daughter as not being a threat. Of course I knew better. Still, I wasn't ready to panic.

He sat opposite me in the booth while his daughter sat beside me, neatly blocking my path of escape.

“I see you've got your back to the wall, mate.”

“I wouldn't think that would bother you. A true friend stabs you in the front.” I had just given the sign I was who I was supposed to be.

“Ah, well, then I shall have to die beyond my means.” Came his counter sign with a charming smile. Proof positive he was who he said he was.

Of course had he not been human, he would never have made it to the pub entrance.

[Cybermancer]

The following is an excerpt from Darcy's diary. She provided it to me willingly and knowing that parts of it would be posted. I was unaware of her thoughts at the time. It also bears mentioning that she wasn't aware that I was an imposter when this entry was made.

Dear Diary,

Today I met Victor Lazlo! Like I've mentioned here before, he's leading the resistance against the hell-spawn demons that are trying to take over the world. He's been trying to teach people what to watch for and how to fight against them.

He makes public appearances and speaks out against our enemies. They try shut him up or kill him but he keeps escaping. Kind of like how Jesus escaped when they wanted to kill him in Nazareth. But I'm sure Mr. Lazlo uses ordinary means like Da and I do. It just looks miraculous to those who ain't in the know, ya know?

Speaking of Da, he didn't want me to come along to meet Mr. Lazlo. Said he was supposed to go meet him alone. I told him I was just a teenaged girl so he wouldn't be worried. Besides, I really, really, really wanted to meet him. So I let my eyes get just a little teary and I stuck out my lower lip like I do and Da was putty in my hands.

Of course he made me promise to sit right beside him when we got to the pub. And that was only if they let me in on account of me being underage. But I'm a pretty girl and all my friends can get into bars just by smiling so I didn't see that it would be a problem. And of course, it wasn't.

I think that Da was a little apprehensive. He was tense, like he gets when we're on a mission. I don't know why, Mr. Lazlo always looked so grandfatherly any time he was on the T.V. or the internet. What harm could somebody's grand-dad do to a professional scapper like my Da?

When we got there, Mr. Lazlo wasn't at all what I was expecting. Even from the exit I could see that he was a lot younger than he always looked in videos. Heck, he couldn't have been older than my Da. I wanted to get a better look at him, so I sat right beside him. I think I was the only one who caught my Da's disapproving look.

Then they started quoting Oscar Wilde at each other. It was an effort not to roll my eyes, you know? I love my Da but he needs to get some new material.

Up close, the things my Da always taught me started taking over.

Mr. Lazlo was dressed nicely as he always was. He smelled faintly of cigar smoke. Something he had in common with my Da. But his clothes weren't just expensive and pretty. They were very expensive and practical. I could catch the tell tale signs that indicated concealed armor.

I'm pretty sure I was able to conceal my surprise when I noticed that Mr. Lazlo was packing! I'm not even kidding, diary! He had at least two firearms on him! And I'm pretty sure at least one knife. Lord only knows what was in that suitcase that was resting beside him, barely concealed by his overcoat.

I had only like a million questions but Da wanted 'to get down to brass tacks' as he likes to say.

[Cybermancer]

As Darcy has said, he didn't take long before getting down to brass tacks.

Oscar ordered a pint, took a sip and then leaned back to eye me speculatively. “You're not exactly what we were expecting.”

I took a sip of my own pint while considering my reply, “Appearances can be deceiving as I'm sure you're aware. Sometimes those deceptions are deliberate but out of necessity. People expect me to be a certain age and for the most part I try not to disappoint them when I'm making public appearances.”

“But mate, there's a reason people expect you to be a certain age. It's because you should be a certain age.” He gestured to me, “and you ain't.”

“Well, we're just meeting for the first time.” I pointed out, “I'm not going to spill all my secrets just yet.”

“Alright, fair enough.” He conceded. “We'll just table that issue for now. The fact is that you're the one we were trying to get a hold of and here you are. We've been looking to hook up with your organization for some time. Not as easy a task as I would've liked, all things considered.”

I took a deep breath, “I'll be honest. Some of our people are apprehensive about your past. Especially those that used to work MI6.”

He laughed affably. “We were on different sides of a war then. Now we're on the same side.” He became serious, “I'll level with you mate. I was kind of drifting before they invaded. Now I got a purpose again. A good one. I ain't the man I once was.”

I looked between him and his daughter. I knew a bit of the man he had been. And I knew a lot about the woman she could become. I realized then that perhaps things didn't have to turn out the way they had.

Oscar noticed my look, “Aye, and she's helped to change me as well. Makes me go to church, just like her mama did. Having a child can change a man. You ever have any children, Vic?”

“No,” I lied. “I've never been blessed in that way.”

“More's the pity,” and his face suggested he thought it was so. He leaned forward, “But that's the other thing, you see? I gotta look after her and make sure she is looked after if something ever happens to me.”

“Nothings ever going to happen to you, Da.” Darcy smiled at her father, sincerely believing her words.

“I'll have to talk to the others,” I told him. “But I'm going to recommend that your cell be officially added to the resistance.”

His face broke into a grin as he grabbed my hand, “that's good to hear, mate. Now I don't have ta shoot ya!” Before I could process what he had said, he was ordering a round of pitchers. “Time to celebrate!”

“Da, can I have...”

“No!”

Despite his objection, Darcy got to have some beer as well.

[Cybermancer]

The next day I suffered through a hangover and a prolonged debate over admitting Oscar's strike team. Part of the problem was that my own team was getting inflated (again).

I solved that problem by breaking off most the group to go and form their own cells. They had all demonstrated leadership potential and it was time to let them fly from the nest.

Doctor Boggs and Maddie I kept for my cell. I liked having Doctor Boggs' mystic might on tap but even more important was keeping an eye on Maddie. I didn't want to leave her to her own devices. Knowing what I do now, I probably would have kept her more at arms length. Then again, things happened the way they did and it all worked out in the end. So perhaps it is best that it cannot be undone.

There was apprehension on both sides when we merged into one cell. Slayer and Brutal both took an immediate dislike to Maddie. It was bad enough that they wanted to back out and it was only Oscar's charm that kept them in.

Oscar rather liked Maddie and so did Darcy. For her part, Maddie took on the role of big sister to Darcy and would be coy and flirtatious with Oscar-whenever Doctor Boggs wasn't around, of course. Oscar never said, but I think Maddie may have reminded him of someone.

I took the team off the active duty roster so that we could train together and hone our skills. But most importantly I wanted to re-forge two very different groups into a single cohesive team. So training and exercises were focused on team building.

There were problems to be overcome.

Oscar's team still looked to him when I gave orders. You can't have that sort of division in the chain of command.

Despite having placed Oscar as the new second in command (despite being senior, Doctor Boggs wasn't big on command authority), my people kept looking to me when he gave orders.

And of course, Oscar and I didn't always see eye to eye on how to proceed. In fact he was perfectly willing to go off on his own and do whatever he thought was needed regardless of the plan or my orders to the contrary.

Remember me mentioning that I took the team off the active roster?

That was one of the decisions that he did not agree with.

He felt the best training was done in the line of fire. Oscar also felt that there were just too many threats to deal with, and too much to be done for one of the resistances premier teams to be sitting back on its laurels.

I'd caught him a couple times trying to sneak out with a few of the others to take care of something or another. It always led to a big blowout. It only served to reinforce the division between us.

Needless to say, I was beginning to regret taking his team on board.

Then an opportunity came along that he just couldn't leave alone. We had received intelligence that Cane himself would be in Chicago. The intelligence had come down from some of Oscars old contacts and I hadn't confirmed them through other channels yet.

When he discussed it with me, he surprised me by agreeing that caution was warranted and that we should wait for confirmation of the intelligence before acting on it. So I let my guard down.

I didn't know anything was up until Maddie stopped by my office, "hey Matt, have you seen Darcy? I was supposed to teach her some magic countermeasures tonight."

Sure enough, things soon went from bad to worse. A message arrived. Cane had been confirmed to still be in his fortress in DC.

Half my team had just walked into a trap.

[Cybermancer]

Again, since I wasn't there for much of it, I think that this part of the story is best told from Darcy's point of view as she would later write of it in her journal.

Oh Diary,

I can't stop crying.

My Da is dead.

We had heard that Cane himself, not one of his damn doubles, would be taking a tour of Chicago. Apparently he wanted to consolidate his powerbase around the great lakes, much as the resistance had been doing out west. Chicago was always important to Da. To score such a victory there would have made his chest burst with pride, I'm sure, if we could take out Cane in that city of all places.

Damn him. Damn him and his fucking pride.

Forgive me Jesus, for my cussing. But why did you have to take my Da away from me? He was doing your work, wasn't he? Didn't that make up for the bad he'd done before?

Please, please forgive him and take him to heaven with you! I'd give anything if you would just do that. Can I be good enough for both of us?

I wish you'd answer instead of making me figure it out for myself.

Anyway, this was a big mission. Since Da didn't think we could depend on the other members of the team-he sort of thought that Maddie and Boggsy might join us but he didn't want tip off the old man-it was better we hook up with some old friends.

That meant I was going to get to see Frankie again! He's one of Da's younger friends but still a lot older than me. Still, I'm filling out nice and maybe he'll notice me. At least that was what I was thinking at the time. He's dead now too, though, so there's another dream dried up and blown away.

I was so happy, it was as close to a family reunion as I get to have, you know? What with mom being dead and no siblings and no cousins I know of. It just seems so unfair that other girls my age, even in this mixed up world, can have normal lives and never lift a finger to do gods work and here I am doing my best and things just keep getting worse. I wonder if this is how Job felt?

Well, anyway, there we was waiting for the last of our number to show up. Old IRA, so Da felt he could trust them. They were like family, right?

They didn't show so I don't know if they betrayed us or if they got themselves caught. What did show up were them damned evil mannequins. They burst in through the door and the walls and the floor and the ceiling. Their blades were like blenders of death. They cut through poor Frankie like he wasn't even wearing armor.

We were in trouble deep, but we were going to make a last stand. And I was going to stand with them.

Except Da had other ideas. He nodded to Brutal and Slayer and knowing what to do, they grabbed me and jumped out the window with me.

Damn him. Doesn't he know how unfair it is to have to keep living without him?

[Grace]

I recognize some of those words.

How did this Darcy keep her faith?

Also, PM sent.

[Cybermancer]

The enemy had planned for the possibility that part of the group might split away and try to escape.

By the time we got there, Brutal and Slayer were both injured and all three of them were running out of ammo. The trio was pinned down in an ally way near the building that they had only just recently exited.

That building rocked as Oscar's passing was noted by the detonation of his suicide vest. It was increasingly common amongst freedom fighters to wear spoiler vests as they were called. The vest was made up of concentrated explosive (including some formula's I provided) tied to a 'dead mans switch'. The idea behind it was that you could take out some of the enemy if you died in action. I discouraged their use as being too indiscriminate.

Maddie ported us in and Doctor Boggs laid down the heavy magic while I provided suppressing fire. Maddie then grabbed Slayer and Darcy. She ported them away and then reappeared. She grabbed Brutal next. She wouldn't be coming back. There were limits to her ability to move people in the same plane of existence. And a stop over someplace else was more difficult than ever since Nemesis day. Not to mention being inherently undesireable.

Of course, we knew this would be the case. Why didn't I just send Maddie? She needed someone to protect her while she was rescuing the survivors.

Doctor Boggs and I had our respective means of camouflage that we used in concert to immediately lose our adversaries. Plus we had enough combined firepower to punch a hole in their perimeter net.

It had been awhile since the two of us had been alone on an op. And we saw it as a chance to really cut loose in a way we didn't normally feel free to do. Darcy would later comment that between the two of us, we didn't just bend the laws of physics, we broke them and left them crying in the corner. I still maintain we simply had a better understanding of those physics and it only seemed like such to those who lacked that higher understanding.

Some would have described Chicago as a heavily occupied city. I preferred to think of it as a target rich environment. Despite the havoc we caused that day, the most important thing we did was vandalism. Where ever we could, we spray painted, "Lazlo was here!" I also made sure I was seen by friend and enemy alike.

It sent a powerful message. To our allies it said that there was still hope. To our enemies it said that even if their leader wasn't willing to appear, I could and would and there would be precious little they could do about it.

But I'm honest enough to admit that I just wanted some payback for Oscar. I really liked him.

Naturally it pissed off the enemy and the first two safe houses we went to in order to RV with Maddie later were already destroyed. The third was still intact when we arrived so we signalled her and waited.

Of course the enemy showed up before her and we were forced to fight them. Obviously, since I am writing this, we survived. Maddie was able to port in, grab us and then port out again.

Home again, she gave Doctor Boggs a hug and a kiss, "Honestly, I can't leave you boys alone for a minute without you getting into trouble."

"Just get us a drink, love." Was his reply as he sat heavily in a comfortable easy chair, "it's been a long night."

"Where's Darcy?" I asked before she had a chance to comply.

"I put her to bed last night but I think she has been crying the whole time." Either Maddie was the best actress ever or she wasn't like others of her kind. She seemed to be able to mimic genuine compassion.

"I better check in on her." I said as I shucked off the last of my armor and gear.

Doctor Boggs gave me a look that empathically said, "better you than me, mate."

This is the reason I don't publicly practice medicine.

I've never learned a good way to tell girls that their daddies are dead.

[Grace]

Hi folks.

I'll be posting this next bit on behalf of my other self. That last diary entry was... a little personal for me. So I talked to Cyber about it and he has agreed to let me post 'my side of the story'. So I can vet or edit anything I find too... intimate.

I'm still going over the files he sent me but I did find this one, that he highlighted as pertaining to this story.

Diary,

It has been just horrible. I knew as soon as the building exploded that Da was dead. But the mind is a funny thing they say. I convinced myself that maybe Matt (it still feels weird to know he isn't the person everyone thinks he is) had found a way to rescue him or that Da had escaped by some other means.

But when he walked in and I saw his face, there was no more hope to found in doubt.

He explained that my Da was a hero and that he would be missed. He promised he would take care of me. Then he hugged me and held me. I was all cried out so all I did was whimper until at some point I finally fell asleep.

You remember me saying how I wish sometimes Jesus would answer me directly? Well, we still haven't spoken directly but he did send an angel to speak to me in my dream. He was tall and didn't wear much, like them statues in the fancy museums. His wings were gorgeous, with pure white feathers. Like someone actually made them from snow flakes.

I suppose I should have been formal and properly respectful but I broke down and started sobbing and asking the Angel if he was there to take me to my Da and was he in heaven, because if he wasn't, I didn't want to go. I must have seemed so pathetic to him.

His finger pressed lightly upon my upper lip. Then he told me to hush. He told me that I would only be reunited with my father if I did what I was told. I had god's work to do. I was one of the chosen. He said that I would be empowered to wreak holy vengeance upon the enemy.

It... comforted me.

I hope it comes again tonight.

I gotta tell you folks... I remember something similar and different happening when my father died.

In my dreams, the angel told me that my father was a sinner and gone to hell. That he had fallen from the path of my ancestors and that it was up to me to redeem our bloodline. I fought with it and lost.

When I woke up, I was determined to be the worst sinner ever.

[Grace]

Another diary entry, folks.

Dear Diary,

My angel came back last night. This time he told me something I didn't want to hear. He told me that I would have to leave the people I was with and if I didn't, I would regret it. He told me that the path I walked, I would have to walk alone but that he would always be there to look after me.

"But they're doing God's work too." I replied, "why does God want me to leave them?"

"They are deceivers," he said in a sad tone. "You already know that their leader is not who he claims to be."

"He says it's so that the people can have something to believe in and to hope for."

"I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the father except through me." He shook his head, "there can only be one hope and one salvation. There is only one to believe in."

"I need to think about this." Something wasn't feeling right about this.

"NO!" He was angry and it frightened me. "There is nothing to think about! You must obey. Your lord commands it!"

"Darcy." The voice was a faint whisper, calling to me.

"NO!" This time the angel seemed to be yelling at someone else. "She is mine! You shall not have her!"

"Darcy, come home." I have never heard my mother's voice but it sounded how I imagined it.

I turned to the voice and it felt as though someone was lifting me out of mud or sludge.

"Darcy, are you okay?" My mothers voice seemed to be merging with Maddie's. All around my bed, were my all my friends. Slayer, Brutal, Maddie, Boggsy and the Old Man.

I don't know why, but I immediately started to cry. "He wants me to leave all of you."

"Who does, dear?" Maddie was very soothing in her tone.

I told her and the rest of them about my angel and everything he had said. They don't seem happy about it. Maddie seems down right furious. She's almost as scary as the angel when she thinks I'm not looking.

All around me, everyone was arguing. Matt just sat there, looking thoughtful while listening.

Finally he turned to me and asked, "do you want to stay with us?"

"Yes." I said while wiping away tears, "you're not going to send me away, are you?"

He shook his head, "no. If you want to stay with us then you may. If you want to leave, that's your choice as well." Objections started immediately but he held up a hand to silence them. "Everyone is here by choice. And I let everyone here stay because they can think for themselves and make that choice."

Matt leaned close to me and smiled, "who created you, Darcy?"

"God did." Everyone knew that!

"Uh huh," he said with a nod, "and how did he create you?"

"In his image. We're his children." I said automatically.

He smiled at that, "so god made your mind?"

I was confused, "of course."

"And did he also give you the gift of freewill?"

Slowly I nodded.

"What servant of god would keep you from using his gifts?"

"Do you believe in God?" I asked in response.

"Gods exist. It's a fact. Angels and demons also exist. Also a fact. But it is also a fact that angels can fall. That is what happened to Lucifer. A lesser known fact is that demons can be redeemed." Maddie seemed surprised to hear that, but Matt went on. "I'm just a person, like you, trying to figure out what is true and what is not. And I'm trying to do the very best that I can. Sometimes I make mistakes as we all do. I pick myself up and then keep trying. If you want to stay with us, I ask the same of you."

"You didn't answer my question." I pointed out. Da could sometimes be pretty evasive about things too.

"I don't believe we've always been told the truth about what God is but that may be partly because we can't fully understand what he is. Our telescopes can look back in time all the way to the beginning and they can tell us how everything happened since then but the can't tell us why. God is our answer to that question."

I punched him in the arm. "It's a yes or no question, Matthew."

"Fine." He seemed exasperated with me. "I believe in God. Maybe not the same way you do, but I do believe. Happy, you wheedling little brat?"

He didn't seem cross with me so I giggled. "Yup. I wanna go to church."

It is Sunday, after all.

[Cybermancer]

I recognize some of those words.

How did this Darcy keep her faith?

Also, PM sent.

I think she was able to keep her faith because of a number of factors.

Her father died a hero. I may not have agreed with his actions but I won't deny that he was brave and took a lot of the enemy with him when he went. So he was a man she could, without question or doubt, look up to.

After his death, she was surrounded by those who cared about her, comforted her and helped her through the mourning process in a natural and healthy way.

Other potentially negative influences were intercepted and dealt with.

Finally, I took her to church and when that was not possible, I discussed subjects of morality, ethics and spirituality with her. She was a very morale, spiritual person who self-identified with the Catholic Church. That didn't mean she never had crisises of faith or that she never questioned dogma. The older she got, the more she explored and defined her identity and beleifs.

I wish the two of you could meet.

You would have either gotten along very well or shot each other in the face.

[Cybermancer]

I intended to start posting this next portion sooner but trouble back home has drawn my attention away.

There is a lull in the activity so I'll start posting and hopefully get it out before I get too busy again.

The next bit is written by Doctor Boggs and his 'apprentice'. Bear in mind that it is from their perspectives and their views of the situation may occasionally deviate from my own.

So I just ran into 'Victor' and he talked me into jotting down some notes about what I got up to after that whole business at the compound and fairy world. After everything that happened I decided to get away for a bit and take care of some other pressing matters. I figured they needed time to come to terms with recent events or some-such thing. Maddie wanted to come of course; I swear she sticks closer than my shadow sometimes; but after the way she compromised herself I needed to clear my head a bit.

Now it's not like I'd just wander off solo, that's crazy. So once we clear of the compound I headed back to a safe house to get some backup in the form of Mel, my sorta apprentice? Whatever else she may be she's reliable so after explaining why I was back sooner than expected I laid things out for her. With registration going into effect in the U.S. it was time to head up to Canada and make sure they didn't follow suit. Well, at least not for a good long time if we could help it.

You can probably imagine she was skeptical about the odds of a fifty year old wizard and his kid sidekick stopping a government in its tracks, since some MP in Ottawa by the name of Stevenson was already getting a registration act introduced to parliament. Luckily that brought up my ace in the hole. See, when the whole registration business started up I'd forced a mostly subservient entity to possess an up and coming politician and get the ball rolling himself. He was also gambling, whoring, bribing and a few other rotten things best not mentioned probably.

So easy enough we pop up to Ottawa and make contact, get him to expose himself and torpedo the legislation for a few months or even years due to the scandal.

Of course she asked the important question right away, "so why do you need me? Just call him."

"There's a chance the opposition is on to him and monitoring his calls. Leak our involvement to the media and the scandal won't work in our favor. So in person it is."

"Okay, so how do we contact him then if he's being watched by minions?"

"We have a prearranged signal you can leave near a coffee shop he goes to daily, easy peasy."

"Uh huh, and what haven't you told me?"

"It's just slightly possible they're onto the signal from the last time I used it, so... they could be waiting for you."

"Fantastic."

Suffice to say I was pretty excited about the trip.

[Cybermancer]

And now from his apprentice's perspective (she had the propensity of adding titles to her reports):

The Drop, Part 1
The Old Man, ever a softy, had the amusing notion of picking a Tim Horton’s for me to drop off the message for the Congressman – or, whatever they have up here in Canada. I’m still not sure how a parliamentary system really works, to be frank. Of course, when incarnations of evil are pulling the puppet strings, I suppose it only half matters. All I cared about was, for once, I could maybe risk getting a decent cup of java here. What can I say? I’m a creature of comforts.

The Timmy’s – or should I say, Canadian Starbucks - was off a couple miles outside of Ottawa proper, a few miles away from Gatineau across the provincial border. It was just after dark, but the place was sparse, with the waitress and maybe three people total. It was surrounded by various trees and some tables set up as a sort of outside dining setup. For non-customers, there were benches placed conveniently around the quaint looking area. One of these benches, I was aware, was often used by a certain Canadian MP on his way home to enjoy his coffee.

I glanced around once as I paused in front of this very particular bench, seeing if I had drawn notice from anyone. The streets were oddly empty that night. That shouldn’t have been surprising, since it was a Monday night, but in hindsight, I should have realized something was up with that. For the moment though, I had thought I was alone.

I double-checked the copy of The Sun beneath my arm, unfolding it to check the crossword. It was my idea to the Old Man – fill out a few fraudulent answers as a code, and leave it tucked between into an otherwise innocuous bench. And that is precisely what I did, folding it over again and jamming it between the red planks. Hopefully the MP would find it before the trash collector did – which was likely since this was a rather quiet end of town.
The job done, I went to get my coffee. I like to think I’m allowed these little rewards to myself. I’m apparently also a bit presumptuous sometimes considering the shit that went down next.

The place just seemed sparse. The couple in the window were talking about some Canadian show that wasn’t Degrassi – which of course means I didn’t care. Some businessman in a trench was sitting there reading a magazine. He didn’t even look at me. So much for Canadian hospitality.

The waitress behind the pastry counter was rather expressionless as I walked over, ordering a tall and a glazed doughnut – almost put off, even. I couldn’t tell if it was because I was bothering her during her closing or because powdered doughnuts are somehow taboo.

She didn’t even take my money as she went about pouring the coffee for me. However, something was fishy when she grabbed a cake doughnut instead of the glazed that I wanted.

Aren’t I just the master of perception?

“Freeze.” someone spoke – not shouted, spoke - from behind me.

As I spun around to see who it was, I was greeted by a hard metallic slap to the side of my jaw.

Seriously, where is this Canadian hospitality?

As I staggered back, holding my cheek in pain, I managed to make out four figures pointing guns at me, maybe five paces away. That included the couple talking about Not-Degrassi and the man reading the paper. As well, there was the one who pistol-whipped me, who was wearing a black three piece with shades, looking like a real MIB. The fact he was wearing sunglasses after dark didn’t hurt the look – and frankly would have spooked me more had I not just been socked by a handgun.

Past the MIB, a black sedan and a truck had pulled up to the Timmy’s next to my car. Against the street lights, I could make out several figures in suits or trench coats getting out, drawing firearms

Fantastic.

In my peripheral vision I saw the Horton’s waitress reaching for something. Being I was surrounded, and discretion was no longer an option had I wanted to live, I decided to have some fun. Like hell I was going to make this easy.

I jumped back and over the counter, catching the unfriendly bitch right in the side of the jaw. I’d like to say it was revenge for trying to give me a damn cake doughnut, but it was mostly luck. She didn’t even scream as her head hit the coffee machine with a clank, though she was definitely staggered.
Being the elegant swan I was, I hit the floor with an oomph. This turned out to be a good thing, as not two seconds later, a cacophony of gunfire opened up, shattering that doughnut display and peppering the tiles behind the counter with bullet holes.
A sharp pain flashed across my brow, either from shattered glass or tile. I briefly noticed it at the time, and even ignored the blood trailing down the side of my face, more focused on covering my head as I ducked behind the counter for dear life. Looking up, I watched the stunned waitress jerk almost inhumanly as she was shot multiple times, each bullet tearing through her cleanly without even a drop of blood. They hadn’t cared about one of their comrades being in the line of fire.

I’m still waiting to see this Canadian hospitality, damn it.

[Gotham Witch]

...well I'm glad even in Bizarro land, certain habits don't change.

I'll think of something wittier to say when it dawns on me that I apparently have an alternate universe double who is apparently more talented than I am.

[Hannah]

You're probably just as talented as the other you. The other you came from a world invaded by monsters from another planet. That sort of pressure tends to add focus when you're learning new things.

Hannah

[Cybermancer]

Sorry I did not continue this tale sooner. The connection I have here at home is not the best.

To be fair to Mel, she had some of the best training available in any world. Still, the potential exists if you care to explore it.

Mel's story continues thusly:

The Drop, Part 2

A ‘lucky’ shot split the woman’s skull with an obscene pop, before what was left of her bloodless, mangled frame simply collapsed to the floor like a dropped marionette right next to me. Instead of brains and blood where her head was, however, there were little bits of insectile chitin and green ooze alongside bloodless globs of flesh. Somehow, I hadn’t noticed earlier that her eyes – what was left of them, anyway - were dark and sunken, too.

I wasn't sure at first how I did not notice the ‘Feds’ after I walked in. That’s when I realized that someone had been messing around in my head. I hadn’t noticed the Feds or the woman’s inhuman eyes because I wasn’t supposed to have. There was a psychic nearby.

Naturally, as I drew my revolver from my pocket, I had something to say about that. Bastards.

Sitting up, I managed to kick one of the dislodged doughnut trays out of the display case, now that there wasn’t glass to stop me. The pastry-and-glass-loaded rack flew out, striking the closest fed in the arm just hard enough to throw his aim off to the side. More importantly, that rack was obscuring my shot until just then.

“Asshole!” I shouted as I lined up my sight and fired at his chest. Aren’t I just eloquent under pressure?
Two shots struck him in the chest as the mannequin was knocked over by the impact, his wounds just as bloodless as the waitresses. As he fell, I had the sense to dive behind a more sturdy, less display-ish counter, just as the Feds responded with even more gunshots, their friends from outside quickly running inside to join the three that were left.

I looked down at the blood on my hand, feeling myself smirk as I began to quietly chant.

Blood is what you might call a universal conductor of magical energy. The reason people use it - either a pinch of blood in a ward, or a human sacrifice in the case of Mesoamericans - is because there is real arcane power in blood. Considering thecircumstances, that gash along my brow wouldn’t be so much extra power to draw from as simply making it easier to bring what I had to bear.

I don’t know if it was giddiness from the adrenaline or the thrill of pending revenge, but I distinctly felt myself cackling as the air lightly hummed, the spell beginning to weave itself together. the blood staining my fingers snapping to life in quickly building flames within my palm. I needed something to help get some breathing space to get the hell out of there.
I think the Feds realized I was about to do something naughty, because there was shouting about ducking for cover. I’m not sure if they sensed me casting the spell, or heard the crackle of dancing flame between my fingers. I either case, I wasn’t going to let initiative slip. I reached my hand up long enough to roll that tightly wound ball of crackling flame off of my fingers and free throw it into the room.

There was a loud fwoosh as the fireball ignited, the blinding light of the eruption followed the shattering of broken glass as the front windows shattered from the pressure. There were also screams – very human screams. At least one or two of the Feds were human – or at least could feel pain. I do admit a certain sadistic side of me enjoyed that fact – shooting the bloodless bug brains wasn’t very satisfying.

I tried to glance over the counter to see the damage, but the dark smoke made it difficult to see much of the situation, aside from some fires burning along a few tables and the carpet of the dining room. Taking a brief moment to pat myself on the back for the smoke screen, I crawled towards the kitchen door, turning the knob as quietly as I could before pushing the door open and slipping inside. I figured if I could get out of there, I could maybe find a way out of town, and meet the Old Man later.

Of course, how often does it actually work out the way one plans it?

After running out of Canadian Starbucks and tucking away my pistol (I wasn’t about to be running around Ottawa with a gun in my hand), I fled into the nearby park. A park, I would add, that had some neat hedges and a bunch of trees lined up. It would have made for good cover to backtrack back to my car were my car not in the opposite direction. You know, right next to those cars the Feds pulled up in.

Speaking of Feds, a large black van was screeching through the rear parking lot of the Timmy’s I just sacked. It sounds like they brought company.
In that kitchen, I had taken a few moments to ‘doll up’ before going back outside. My long coat was already bulletproof, physically (Kevlar) and magically (snails and puppy dog tails), but since my brain pen wasn’t bulletproof I quickly wove together a protective enchantment to ward off snipers. Taking a brief moment of assessing how much magical punch I would need to save, and using some now to get out of there alive, I also opted to weave a shadow-melding spell together. It wouldn’t hide me perfectly, but it did prove enough to get me out of the parking lot.

Upon a few moments of moving along those hedges, I realized it was less ‘hedge maze’ and more ‘Maze like’ when a person actually went through it. Of course, as it was dark as hell, that made it pretty much a maze to me. The fact there were voices and footsteps apparently all around me didn’t make me feel any better. I had an inkling that they threw the net before I even went into Timmy’s.

I knelt down next to an oak, listening for some of the movement along the hedges. Deciding I was probably closer to danger than I prefer, I reached beneath my coat, feeling the Mossberg I keep strapped along my coat tail. It was pistol grip with shortest barrel I could find, with a few more inches shaven off for good measure. It was also way too long to conceal magically (Who says long coats can’t be functional?).

I gave the pump action a quiet stroke to chamber a shell, before peeking around the tree I was leaning against. There was a fed, right there, looking right at me.
Just perfect.

Before I could do anything, the fed – apparently unarmed – just… pointed at me.

In my line of work, even such a harmless gesture as someone giving you the ‘finger gun’ may have serious consequences, a fact I was well aware of. Suddenly I began to ache as if I suddenly just got a full body migraine. If I weren’t already kneeling, I’d probably have doubled over.

The bastard was a psychic. He was probably the reason I didn’t notice all those feds back at the Timmy’s.

I remember hissing as I focused through the pain, either too stupid or too stubborn to go down so easily. By all rights I probably should have been on the ground writhing in agony, which was about where I wanted the psychic.

So I raised my shotgun and blew his leg off at the kneecap, point blank range.

If the gunshot hadn’t given me away, the screaming sure as hell did. The pain was starting to fade, thankfully, but that didn’t stop me from having murderous thoughts as the apparently human fed flailed about the ground, screaming in agony. I don’t know if I did him a favor, but I put my shotgun right in the mind-fucker’s face and pulled the trigger.

Trying to not slip on human brains and gore, I started running for it again. Suddenly, I heard a loud bang before feeling the sharp impact against my ribs. Knocking the wind out of me (bullet proof does not mean impact proof, remember), I remember slipping on bits of agent (ew) before skidding to the ground. Holding my side as I tried to stand, I never got the chance.

Before I could even look up, I felt a sharp blow against the side of my head, before it all went black.

Stupid brains.

[Cybermancer]

So what was Doctor Boggs doing during all of this?

He was getting the job done.

It isn't easy sitting there in a comfy rented Lincoln watching your apprentice brawling with a small army of goons and getting taken down. I was impressed with the fight she was putting up though, damn but that kid could scrap. They'd got her though so it looked like I was gonna have to get my own hands dirty on this one.

So with a resigned sigh I started the car and headed down the road, pulling around the nearest corner
and switching the radio on. I wasn't exactly bopping along to the music under the circumstances, I felt pretty bad about Mel, but seeing all those goons go after her told me what I needed to know. Our enemy didn't have a lot of resources in Canada, meaning the team assigned to watch my buddy the minister was back in the park with Mel.

I'd love to tell a fancy story about the tense atmosphere and odd characters I dealt with but honestly there just ain't much to tell. I kept on eye on the rearviews to make sure I wasn't being tailed and just drove on over to my contacts house. By the time I arrived at the ritzy townhouse my own mother wouldn't have recognized me, just one more perk of my years studying the arcane. So I hopped out of the car and walked right up to the front door and knocked just as bold as you please.

A man doing his best to look like a butler opened up the door in his totally inconspicuous dark suit with the poorly concealed lump of a gun under one arm. So there was still someone watching him, no surprise there. But the aura radiating around him showed him to be an average human so just a pawn, probably didn't even know what he was working for. Ah well.

Security guy gave me the once over and asked, “yes?”

I smiled amiably enough, “can you tell Roger that Bill is here? I came to pick up the clubs I loaned him.”

“One moment.” His expression never changed from one of suspicion, total paranoid. What is the world coming to?

So he closes the door for a minute before coming back, “he says he dropped them off last weekend while you were away, they should be in your garage.”

I managed a sheepish grin, “gosh, I never even thought to check. Well thanks anyway mister... ?”

Instead of answering he just shut the door, clearly our business was concluded. But that was alright since he'd just passed the required code phrases for Roger and I. Even as I was walking down the driveway to get back in my car the 'minister' would be hard at work in his office calling up the files he'd need to incriminate himself and get them sent off to local media. Any hopes of his registration bill passing would be tanked by midnight.

Kind of a boring tale on my part but what can ya do? So I drove off whistling, trying not to think about what happened to Mel and headed for Montreal and the contact who'd be shipping me back to Victor and the gang. Eventually anyway, I planned on at least a couple days of drunken debauchery to help forget things for a while.

Still, mission accomplished right?

[Cybermancer]

Naturally as you may have guessed, that was not the end of Mel. This section concludes her written record of events as she remembered them.

The Drop, Part 3.

I woke up in a lot of pain, to put it mildly.

I heard a large engine start up as I was began to stir, feeling numbing cold against the side o my screaming brainpen. I immediately connected the dots; I was in a Fed van, and they were going to try and twist my arm (and other things) to get me to talk about their MP.

A younger me wouldn’t have been sure if I wanted to cry or throw up. Fortunately Maddy made sure she didn’t raise herself a sissy.

I kept my eyes closed as I laid against the wall of the truck they propped me against, trying to figure out my situation. The first thing I noticed was the weight on my wrists pulled behind my back – cuffs, by the feel of it. Truth be told, I was expecting manacles. Old Man had mentioned that the Feds had been using heavyweight restraints to deal with folks with powers. I would have thought they’d have given me the same treatment.

The vehicle I was in hit a bump as my head bobbed. What normally would have been a curse ended up muffled. Apparently they decided to gag me with what felt like duct tape. Handcuffed and gagged. By wizard standards, I would have been up shit creek.
Luckily for me, I was too stubborn to be typecast so.

I could hear a bit of muttering about four feet in front of me. Risking it, I peeked open one eye, just to see what was going on. Hell, I figured, if they hadn’t heard my muffled curse, they probably assumed I was still out.

I appeared to be in the back of a van, much like what SWAT used. There was a door – probably locked – leading to the driver’s compartment. There weren’t any chairs, just metal benches on each side. My company was one Fed, a much nicer shotgun resting across his lap - a Benelli Super 90 by the looks. Along his ear and along his neck, I could make out what appeared to be a LASH style headset that he was muttering into.

As I watched, he was only kind of paying attention to me, more concerned with his conversation. I couldn’t quite make out what the topic was, but I could hear whispered bits and pieces. Something about our boy in the parliament and the lead they might have regarding unusual behavior.

I can’t say I didn’t take a little pride in that.

I closed my eyes, more closely analyzing my personal situation. The side of my head was numb but tender by this point; I’d likely need stitches right above my ear and maybe along my brow (or at least it felt like it) Shifting, my flank felt like I had one or two ribs cracked from the shell that put me down – looking at the barrel of his shotgun, I’d wager slug.

Surprisingly, they left my coat on me – apparently they were in a hurry to smuggle me out. Good thing too; apparently the Feds didn’t waste gas on heating, otherwise I would have been baking alive back there. Small comforts I guess.

The door to the driver’s compartment was most certainly locked. Even better, the window on the compartment door was pretty small, and it was dark back here. It seemed I had a chance.

I turned my wrist, reaching a hand into my coat sleeve and fished around for a pick. I kept a few on hand, usually for breaking into places where blasting the door off of its hinges would have been a bad idea. Most handcuffs used a pretty similar university key, and as I pulled the right pick into my hands and quietly worked one of the cuffs on my arms, I hoped that would be true here too.

Click. I had never been happier about bureaucratic corner-cutting in my life.

I had one wrist covertly free, but I was still dealing with a shotgun armed Fed in full armor. And that is why there was a part two to this plan: I immediately fell over to the floor on my side, looking as bloody and limp as possible. It wasn’t hard.

“What the?” I heard the guard say, cursing as he stood up. So far, so good.

“Shit, she better not have brain trauma.” He muttered, rolling my limp form onto my back so he could pull me up and toss me back in my seat. What a gentleman.

As he started flipping me over, I kicked his knee out from under him as hard as I could. Wearing steel toed boots, that wasn’t so hard. I heard him curse as he fell down next to me. As he struggled to grab his pistol, I had just enough time to pull my arms in front, grabbing the empty manacle and twisting the short chain around his neck as I began to strangle him as hard as I could.

It’s rather impressive how hard you can strangle someone to death when your life depends on it. He was most certainly a lot stronger than me, but on the ground he had no leverage. He flailed and gagged in my grasp as I pulled back as hard as I could. After a few more raspy gasps for breath, he fell limp in my arms.

Except for the last guy I was with, it was the longest 15 seconds of my life.

I ripped the tape off of my mouth with a quiet grunt, taking a quick moment to snatch the keys from his belt and undo the other cuff. The truck had not stopped yet, meaning the drivers were unaware their friend was dead. That only left figuring out how to get out of the truck.

I picked up the dead guy’s shotgun, checking the magazine. Brenneke Slugs, I found. I suppose discretion in my capture went out the window after I killed a few of them. No surprise, I suppose. Anyway, I pumped a shell into the chamber, before moving the dead guy out of the way and knocking on the compartment door.

I felt the truck slow down a bit as I could see the guy sitting shotgun getting up, opening the door and looking inside. He didn’t even get a chance to blink as I stuck the barrel of that shotgun in his face and pulled the trigger.

A guy sitting shotgun killed by one; irony, or just coincidental?

The loud bang of the weapon discharge – and his mostly headless friend flopping back into the shotgun seat - caused the driver to briefly swerve, nearly knocking me over as he reached for his sidearm. Unfortunately for him, I already had half a spell ready. I grabbed onto a hand rail and through the headache, focused a fair bit of my will before pointing at the driver and releasing the spell with two words of archaic Spanish.

The driver immediately doubled over, screaming in mind-blowing agony as the truck began to swerve more. I probably could have just shot him, but I’m kind of the vengeful sort, in case that wasn’t obvious. Besides, this was more likely to cause a wreck, which is exactly what I wanted.

I didn’t have time to sit there and watch him squirm, sadly. Smirking in triumph instead, I reached across the corpse in the passenger seat to slide the door open before grabbing the dashboard to avoid flying out of the truck prematurely. As the truck was beginning to shift rapidly into the next lane, I shouldered my new gun, grabbed my new dead guy by the inside of his ballistic vest, and shoved both of us out the door.

Body sledding was not really the brightest idea I’ve ever had, I admit. I could have ended up twisting the wrong way and landing head first. Or a car could have ran us over, or we could have ran into a stranded vehicle flying in the air at 50mph. We were on a highway, after all. At the time it sounded like a good idea though…

As it turns out, I timed it just right. There was a crunch as the dead Fed’s body hit first, shattering his spine and probably his shoulder blade before flopping limply across the pavement. Upon impact, I immediately lost my grip as I rolled painfully but mostly harmlessly across the concrete and into the sloping grass shoulder of the road. As I came to a stop about five feet from the corpse of the now squishy Fed, I heard loud crash from up the highway. Holding my ribs as I looked up, I saw that the truck had swerved into the wrong lane and struck head on with a Semi.

Damn I’m good, I thought to myself as I stood up. I immediately doubled over, holding my side. Stupid karma… and ribs.

Standing on the side of the highway, I realized the Feds were going to investigate their people soon. Fortunately, that collision up ahead resulted in a few people stopping in order to offer aid. I saw my chance and immediately limped in that direction.

Apparently, my face was enough of a mess that everyone thought I had been in the accident. As a guy got out from a minivan, he stared at me in shock.

“Are you okay ma’…” I cut him off by sticking the barrel of my shotgun in his face.

“Car keys, now.” I rasped, working the pump slow and foreboding as I could.

An unnecessary gesture since the Super 90 is both pump action and semi-auto? Sure, but nothing says negotiation like the clack of a pump action. He dropped the keys into my outstretched hand and backed the hell away as I climbed into his ride.

I stopped at another Timmy’s on my way to Montreal for my damn coffee. The scowl on my face kept the waitress from asking too many questions.

I disapproved of Mel's car jacking someone and let her know about it in no uncertain terms. Otherwise however, I was quite impressed with how she handled herself.