[Fiction] First Plunge of the Knife

[Timeslip]

Nice. Lonely, but nice. The garden was a beautiful place, with life bursting forth from every corner; a light breeze picked up the faint scents from each blossom and, caught within the walls, whirling it all together into a perfume that made anything sold in Bloomingdales stink like a sewer at high tide by comparison. The colors, muted though they were in the evening sky, mixed and melded in a panoply that would have assaulted the eyes had they not been arranged with such care, such deliberate purpose. Bamboo sections of various shapes and sizes, painstakingly pierced and shaved, complimented the natural rustle of the leaves to make something more alive than music – organic, complex and holding a promise of the coming late-summer rain just by the rise and fall of the tones.

In the midst of this exotic orgy of the senses, she slowly walked – the clearest of night skies taken to smooth and graceful feminine form, thousands of distant orbs aflame and shimmering as if one could reach through and touch the mind of God. And she was…alone. For all her shining stars, the light of her life was thousands of miles away, sequestered with another woman. Maybe I did my job a little too well, Timeslip thought ruefully. He spends more and more time with Blackout, now that he’s serious about redefining himself as a Marvel. Damn him and his pride, he could have been a Portent, could have been the face of things to come, could have been…here with me. With a fluidity that any dancer at the Bolshoi would give her toes to possess, she settled on a rock. She sighed; with idle motions, she plucked smooth pebbles from the path at her feet and, with expert aim, tossed them into the same spot of the black evening waters of the garden pond, again and again, each timed in perfect resonance with the ripples from the last until the waters are as syncopated as any musical score in a perfect 3/4 beat, reflected starlight – both from the skies and the young goddess – dancing to a celestial waltz.

And all the while, unfriendly eyes looked upon her from afar and took heart in the deed to come.

------------------------------

Everything always looks too damned flat through a scope. Rimfire shifted uncomfortably on his perch; the cellular tower was never built with the idea of being a prolonged habitat, even for a well-camouflaged nova sharpshooter, and his legs were starting to become numb from the steady bite of the steel flange that served as his impromptu seat. “And this fucking rifle sucks ass,” he muttered. He longed for his custom rifle with its familiar, well-worn grips; the open iron sights cut just right to permit his too-perfect 20/2 vision to ensure precision targeting within a millimeter while he caressed and squeezed the hand-built trigger like a lover on a hot summer night. “Ah, not tonight, love,” he sighed under his breath. His mentor had been very, very clear on that point; the Remington he held to his shoulder – a fine enough weapon for some half-blind zip, perhaps, but a crude toy in his talented hands – was to be left behind, telescopic sight and all, as the first brick in a carefully laid evidence trail that should help tonight’s action kill two birds with one high-velocity, armor-piercing stone.

At least the target was well behaved, and Rimfire offered up half-hearted thanks to whatever powers may be for that small blessing. Years ago, he would have complained about the lack of challenge, yearning for the mark to at least walk around a bit, for a wind to kick up, anything to get that sweet rush of endorphins flowing through his veins. But that was a half-dozen years and as many failed missions ago; these days, the easier the target, the happier he was. Better still that there had been no sign of the target’s husband since he vanished through a swirling tear in space five hours before; the last thing Rimfire wanted to face was that overbuilt fucker. He had no illusions what would happen if that furry bastard was able to get his dagger-tipped paws on him. No, Long would be another target for another hunter on another day.

“Well, no time like the present; it’s never going to get easier.” He settled into his mantra – the careful breathing, the inner focus, the melding of himself with his weapon (“even as shitty a weapon as this”) until they were a single unit of focused death. When he opened his eyes, there was nothing but him and the target. Rimfire took a deep breath, let it whisper away slowly, and with a motion so practiced that it was pure instinct, squeezed the trigger.

[Timeslip]

A spring-loaded catch gradually slid down toward the bottom of the receiver; as it cleared the bolt, the firing pin was released and leapt forward, striking the percussion cap at the base of the custom-loaded cartridge. As the small primer charge within the cap flared, it ignited the main charge; 65 grains of the finest quality powder was consumed within milliseconds, expanding and forcing the projectile – 180 grains of tungsten-jacketed death – forward, twisting through the rifling to emerge from the barrel at three times the speed of sound.

The next pebble was almost out of her fingers when the bullet hit. As her body was twisted by the violent force of the impact, the stone went off-target and out of rhythm; when it made itself felt in the pond, the delicate dance of ripples was shattered in a nightmare discordance.

For a fraction of a second, Timeslip was uncertain why she was tipping, falling on her side; then, the sharp crack, as of lighting striking a nearby tree, flowed over her like a wave, and the numbness in her side gave way to a sickening pain. Almost absently, her hand moved to her side and felt the warm life flow from her; looking down in curiosity become horror at the crimson flood even as she impacted the ground. I….I’ve been shot? “I’ve been shot,” she murmurs…and the next draw of breath is a living hell, her midsection alive with a searing agony so intense that she almost hopes for quick death.

--------------------------------------

“There we go,” Rimfire says with satisfaction as he watches the target fall over sideway and sees the splash of blood already staining the waters of the small pond in which she has partially landed. Working the bolt in a smooth and practiced motion, he ejects the spent cartridge and chambers the next round. “OK, time for the end-game, and then time for me to get the fuck out of here.” He takes careful aim at the prone figure and squeezes off another round.

[Timeslip]

Through the pain, something resembling coherent thought returns to Timeslip...that, and a desperate desire to stay alive. She realizes suddenly that she is probably a remarkably good target, sprawled out along the edge of the pond, and that whoever shot her wasn't likely to gamble on a single shot to kill a nova -- even a nova of her limited defenses. With great difficulty, she reaches out to the temporal stream, and slides into the rapids. Around her, the world slows down...just in time for her to see a flash in the distance. The second shot, she realizes. Gotta get out of the way, she thinks as she tries to scurry behind the rock...tries and fails. Despite the sternest of commands, her legs simply refuse to budge, lying limply half in the rippling water of the pond. “Oh no,” she gasps in horror.

The bullet plows through the air, creating pressure waves in front of it and a brief vacuum behind; the tungsten tip glows with the friction. Timeslip can see it now, moving toward her inexorably, and she knows that if it reaches her, she is not going to survive. No…no….NO! Quantum energies flow in once-familiar patterns, now twisted for an entirely different purpose, as the relentless projectile swells in her vision, and a shimmering black something encompasses her. The bullet enters the aura, a fraction of an inch from her exposed chest…and disappears from the universe. To her own shock and no small relief, Timeslip is untouched by the hot metal death.

-------------------------------------

“Damn it! There was nothing in the fucking profile about a fucking shield!” Rimfire desperately works the action, firing two more rounds and watching each just…vanish as they should be hitting her, and realizes that the jig is up. “Fuck this,” he mutters as he drops the rifle from the tower and then follows it in a long, straight drop. Camouflaged perfectly in the ground cover, he runs toward the deep woods just below the crest of the hill, and the stolen Toyota hidden therein.

-------------------------------------

Only a few minutes after the last round vanishes in the ebony aura surrounding her does Timeslip calm down enough to reach into a small pocket in her eufiber – thankfully not on her right side, which is a torn and bloody mess – and pull out her small OpNet phone. Normally, Long would have heard her terror across the link by now; however, Blackout had made clear from the first meeting that she found an active link during their sessions to be completely unacceptable; if she could not have his full focus, she would give him none in return. Just another reason to hate her a bit more, Timeslip thought as she thumbed open the phone and hit the speed dial. She didn’t wait after hearing the click of connection, she simply said, “Long, I’m in the garden and I’ve been shot. Please come home,” and hung up.

[Long]

Long reacted to the phone, quickly pissing Blackout off quite a bit. "I guess you don't have what it takes; I need your full concentration here."

Long turned and snarled at Blackout with enough ferocity to make his rage clear. "My wife needs me. I don't have time to waste." There was a blue flash and Long was gone, leaving his training unfinished.

He reappeared at his home to see Timeslip lying on the ground in a pool of blood. "ANGELA!!!!!!!" The roar echoed for miles around. He rushed to her side and spied the gaping gunshot wound. He ripped his shirt off and placed it on the wound, hoping to staunch the flow of blood. "Angela, I'm going to place you in stasis. You'll be OK, I promise; just stay with me."

He slowed Time to a halt around her, focusing completely on holding her body in suspended animation. While she lay there Long called the nearest hospital and told them to expect company. The EMT arrived qucikly and when they were ready Long released the stasis field. Angela coughed blood and the EMT's did their job under Long's watchful eyes. Once they had her stable enough for transport Long focused hard and opened a gateway directly to the hospital's emergency room.

"Go Goddammit.. If she survives this I will pay you ten times your annual salaries. Now Save my Wife!." Long's roar sent them into motion directly into the the ER where a doctor was grabbed, and they rushed Timeslip into surgery. Meanwhile Long made two calls and paced the waiting room, in his full stature and fully powered up. His rage was barely contained, any act towards the room where the doctor works on Timeslip was met with a harsh gaze, as though one was the prey of a very powerful and angry hunter.

His eyes blazed with azure fury, the only thing that kept him from hunting down whoever did this and devouring them was the need to protect Timeslip from further harm.

[Timeslip]

Surgery. No one should have to be awake through their own surgery. Entirely aside from such mundane issues as vaso-vagal response and shock and scream-inducing pain, the finer points of cutting the insides of a person is knowledge that, for aesthetic reasons, should properly remain in the minds of doctors and killers alone; it's knowledge that the rest simply don't want or need to know.

Timeslip was becoming intimately familiar with that rare knowledge, stretched out on a bloody table in a Tokyo operating theater as a covey of surgeons and their accompanying flock of nurses rushed to save the life of the mesmerizingly exotic nova. Initially, a hesitant anesthesiologist – scared half out of his wits by the thing on the table in front of him, and the remaining half by the snarling menace pacing just outside the swinging doors – had placed a mask over her face, telling her in a stammering voice to count backwards from a hundred. She had torn the mask off and whispered to him to quit wasting time; with a quantum-fired metabolism that had been born of an overdose, she could have counted backward from ten million for all the good the gas would have done in her system. The lead surgeon, to his credit, didn’t press the issue, but plunged straight in to the bloody task at hand.

There’s nothing quite like the feeling of someone sticking their hand in a hole in your side, cutting as they go, to make you feel alive. Timeslip felt alive, all right; just about to the point of wanting to be rid of life and all its possible torments. She could feel every incision, every clamped blood vessel, every torturous disruption of each sensitive nerve. Making matters all the worse, she knew that, with her perfect memory, she would always remember exactly how it felt, every last second of it.

Finally, after hours of pain that should have been patented, bottled and sold to the Devil as a new way to spice things up in Hell, she both heard and felt the tap of metal on metal – of surgical steel hitting the tungsten and lead of a bullet. “That’s the spot, doc,” she whispered, almost with a chuckle; her voice, so otherworldly and hollow and just plain wrong, gave the nurses and all but the lead surgeon pause; the seasoned professional gave quick and precise orders, shaking his colleagues from their shock. The team pried her open like a Christmas goose, as he homed in on the invasive lump of metal. He’s too calm…what’s doc’s little secret? Exerting the slightest touch of her dwindling quantum reserves, she felt about…and the lead surgeon’s node, small though it was, winked at her with quantum promise of its own. Heh…figures, she mused to herself, a good measure more confident in the procedure.

That confidence gave her warm comfort for all of about 30 seconds…at which point, it felt like someone was trying to tear a piece of her spine away like ripping a hunk of taffy from the middle of the string. The movements of the surgeon’s deft fingers within her made the situation all too clear: the soft core of the bullet had wrapped around her hardened spine like a piece of chewing gum. Finely crafted instruments of steel and titanium wouldn’t help here; it was going to have to be good old-fashioned manual manipulation, nova-style. Slowly, gradually, impossibly strong fingers pulled that lead wad loose from her spine on the far side from the entry, then began the delicate process of peeling it back from the vertebrae. It felt like someone was pulling her spine apart with a pry bar, and it was all she could do to contain the scream that was clawing its way up her throat, eager to escape in echoing, nerve-shattering flight.

Just as she thought that, perhaps, she would never leave this table, the feel of metal and bone and soft tissue parting ways reverberated through her spine, and a prickly hell that was like the words of a long-lost friend spread down the rest of her back, spilling into her legs and feet and running headlong into the tips of her toes. That wonderful feeling of a hundred thousand needles lightly tickling each and every nerve, letting her know that yes, Angie, you’ll dance with Ryu again afterall.

The loud report of metal falling on metal shook her from her reverie; she glanced over and saw the flattened, twisted lump of the assassin’s bullet sitting bloody and scorched in a kidney-shaped pan. Weakly smiling, she locked eyes with the nova surgeon and said, “Nice work, doc; can we finish putting me back together now?” And indeed, the team commenced doing exactly that, with all the precision and skill that dozens of hands guided by nova genius could muster; only twenty minutes of excruciating pain later, Timeslip was being wheeled out of the theater and toward Recovery. She snagged the first nurse they encountered, stopping the procession for a few seconds; “I want Long with me, and don’t you dare tell him he can’t.” Releasing the frightened nurse’s arm from her grip, she settled back in relative comfort on the gurney and waited to reach her destination.

[Long]

The nurse came up behind Long and was met with a much calmer gaze than he had given anyone lately. In very measured words he asked, "How…is…my…Wife?" His anger was barely restrained, but his concern was suppressing it -- mostly.

"Your wife is in recovery now; she's requested that you come to her side." The nurse spoke a touch too quickly, her fear evident.

"Lead me." The nurse stepped off quickly with Long following, the latter’s form compressing slightly to better facilitate navigating the hospital corridors. He arrived at the room just as the surgeon was leaving. He gave a quick nod to the doctor; "I will settle our accounts later. Will she be alright?" The doctor nodded and allowed Long in, closing the door behind him. Long's hearing detected the words, "Do not disturb them for any reason."

Satisfied of their pseudo-privacy, Long looked over at Timeslip lying on the bed. He took one of her hands in his as his tail curled itself atop her left knee. "My fault, it's all my fault. I've made so many enemies over the years. I never should have left you alone like that. I promise you, I'll find whoever did this and make them pay a thousandfold."

[Timeslip]

Timeslip smiled wanly up at Long as he took her hand; “I’m glad you’re here, Love.” The smile faded, and she dived straight in to the point. “Long, whoever did this was one of us, of the One Race.” She paused to swallow, her mouth dry. “I was able to see the flash of the shots -- they came from the cellular tower – but there was nobody behind them. No baseline could manage that trick.”

She squeezes his hand. “I’ve been thinking about it, trying to keep my mind off the pain during the surgery. Utopia wouldn’t try that stunt; long-distance sniping isn’t their style. Other Elites…well, they would only go after me if paid to do so, and frankly they’re the type of people who would, if they had a beef with you, go after you directly; it’s the professional way of doing things.” She paused again, uncertain whether to continue. What she said here could do great damage…but in the end, she realized it had to be said. “I think it was probably one of the other factions, one that either doesn’t like our choice of friends or took the thing with Shen-Khan to heart or both. Harvesters or Primacy most likely, though with Shen-Khan’s leanings, I’d say Harvesters.”

“That said,” and she put as much strength as she could muster into her voice, “I know exactly what you mean by repaying them a thousand-fold, and I’m telling you right now that if you do that, they’ve already won.” She pulled him close to her, painfully strained to kiss the tip of his nose, and continued. “Shen-Khan wanted you to be a monster, and so do those bastards in the Harvesters. You promised me that you would never go back to that. You’ve been making strides on your new path, working with Blackout and Epoch. And I don’t want to see you – to see us – lose that; not now, not after everything that's happened. If you go after whoever’s behind this, do it smart. Track them carefully. Use your friends in Nova Vigilance to help you take them down…and if you must, show the bastard his spine. But no farther.” She forces a grin; “you’ll ruin your supper, and I’ve worked so damned hard on those new recipies.”

[Long]

Long's eyes closed as he considered her words. He'd been working so hard, yet here he was ready to – hell deeply desiring to – feast on the flesh of another nova. "Timeslip, I'm so glad you're still here. Losing you would have undone all that you've helped me achieve." He stopped, and his tone changes.

"I did make that promise. I'll keep it too, even if I have to die to do so. As for whoever did this, I called an old colleague to capture and interrogate him. He and his squad are quite good; they'll find who did this and find out who ordered this attack. Then I will make their lives very unpleasant. As for the shooter, his fate is decided."

Long understood the hard look he received from Timeslip, but smiled. "Trust in me. I know it doesn't look like that's a good choice, but you'll see."

He idly rubbed Timeslip's hand as he knelt next to her on the floor so he could look her in the eyes. "What sort of recipes have you been working with, Angie?"

[Long]

After a awhile Timeslip drifts off into a light sleep. The pain from the trauma has overtaken her and she sleeps to avoid it. Long places her hand gently at her side and removes himself from the room. The doctor meets him at the door. "Whatever she needs, do it, see that she is comfortable. There are going to be some men arriving shortly, they will serve as security for her, and indeed the entire hospital, they are not to be spoken to unless there is an emergency. Am I clear?"

There is fire in his voice as the Doctor speaks "Crystal. You know the fee for such things."

Long nods "You will receive your fee when this is done. Help her along and there will be a great bonus." The doctor boys and begins informing the staff of the small hospital. A phone call and ten minutes later several vehicles pull into the garage. about Twenty men dressed in normal street clothing emerge, at the head of them is Genichiro "Tatsumaki" Oyama.

Long bows to the other nova who returns the bow graciously. "My wife is receiving Treatment here." Tatsumaki nods "We have been advised of our duties old friend, if by our dying we can protect her then so we shall."

"It appears then that all is ready. There may be a nova stopping by, One of the most powerful you've likely ever felt, he is allowed to meet and see Timeslip, as is the nova doctor she was treated by. Beyond that, you know what to do."

"Yes, I understand." Tatsumaki begins issuing orders to his men who spread out about and through the building. That leaves Long alone again. A few moments of computer access outside the house net the location of a primary suspect, One Sean "Chaos" McCline. After checking in with the novas he'd hired to track and capture the shooter, he opens a gateway to the address the computer gives him; some little home in Baltimore.

"It's time we meet Chaos, and for your sake, you had best not be involved in this."

[z-Sean McCline]

"Mom, no!" Sean shouts. He can feel the power radiating throughout the house and he dives over the coffee table, racing for the front door. Damn it, this is why he stayed away for ten years!

Maggie McCline opens the door anyway; she's a doctor and sometimes her neighbors came to her for minor aid. She is afraid that someday she will answer the door to find a real emergency, so she always hurried.

The raging maelstrom of energy that roars through the door knocks the elderly baseline woman back. Sean is right behind her and catches her. When she is safe in this arms, he looks up at the looming tiger and Long gets his first look at Angie’s ex. He is greeted by a tall man, handsome with strong features; the Nova stares back at him, his skin pale in the ghastly light of Long’s energy aura. His hair is dark red and his eyes are a cat’s green, surrounded by black sclera. He cradles the woman against his chest, shielding her face and front from Long. It’s not the image Long expected. He has heard of this Terat, and this scene does not match his mental picture.

“What do you want?” the red-headed Nova yells fiercely over the roaring energy. Sean’s afraid that he knows exactly what Long wants: he pissed off Angie and sent her husband after him. And Sean knows that he has little chance of surviving.

His mom trembles in his arms, and Sean swears to himself that she will live. He won’t let her die for his mistakes. He moves her behind him and calls upon his quantum to enhance himself.

[Long]

"We have a matter to discuss Chaos. Something has happened and you come to mind as a probable cause. Perhaps you'd like to come outside. I promise you, I will be fair. Your mother does not need to see you die."

Long's tail lashes behind him, his eyes glow with azure fire as blue sparks shimmer across his body. He takes a few steps back to allow Chaos to come out and close the door behind him.

"Will you come out, or must I come in?"

[z-Sean McCline]

Sean opens his mouth to tell Long he’ll come out when Maggie twists to face Long. “Leave my son alone!” she shrieks.

Chaos clamps his hand over his mother’s mouth. “Mom, please! You can’t make this better.” He glares at Long. “I’m coming out. Just a minute!”

Chaos wrestles his way out the door and pulls it shut, blocking the woman inside. “Take to the air,” he ordered, “she can’t follow us there.” True to his word, he takes to the air, shooting up to hover at a few hundred feet.

When Long stops at the same height as Chaos, he notices that Chaos’ Eufiber has changed, becoming a pair of dark leather pants, a black trench and a white t-shirt. The t-shirt has a cartoonish drawing of a hand giving the bird; the middle finger has a smiling face and the caption says, “Have a nice day!” Chaos has his arms crossed and a sullen expression on his face. “Now, what do you want, Long?”

[Long]

"Timeslip was shot at our home. Elites with a beef with me would have come at me directly. Not some cowardly trick. Ths reeks of my former mentor's hand, but he's gone. That leads me to believe some of his associates may be behind this. I started running down the lists of people, and realized I don't really know them. I believe however you might. If I truly thought this was something you'd had a hand in, I'd have obliterated the house below us initially. I can see it in your eyes though. You hurt each other, but I truly doubt you'd pay someone to kill her like a dog."

Long's arms sit ready at his sides, his claws aren't extended, yet.

"I've narrowed it down to several Harvesters and members of the Primacy that were known associates of Shen-Kahn, but beyond that information is sketchy. So Will you help me, or am I just wasting my time?"

The Blue flames wreathing Long flare as Long's patience shows signs of wearing thin.

[z-Sean McCline]

Chaos' jaw sets. "Someone shot Angie?" His eyes narrow. "And you think it was Teragen?"

The tough act falters; Chaos looks more like a confused young man. "How... how is she?" he asks, his voice tight.

[Long]

"She is recovering well, I have arranged for several good friends to take care of her while I get to the bottom of this. Before you tell me that as her husband my place is at her side, let me say this, cooped up in that hospital watching her in pain, I was quite close to exploding into violence, so I left. I set out to use the talents I have in a much better way. So, I know of your Allegiance, I understand if you won't inform on friends, but right now you've got a chance to protect them should they have nothing to do with it. Unless you give me some more insight into the novas on this list..." Long places the list in Chaos's hands "...I'm going to hunt them all down personally. I will not be half as polite as I am now."

Long watches as Chaos looks over the list of about twelve novas and waits expectantly. The flames that seemed to wreath him have died back, his rage subsiding to a degree.

[z-Sean McCline]

Chaos frowns as he goes over the list. Part of him really is focusing on the list; the other is asking, should I do it? Should I admit it? “I need to think about these names,” he tells Long, folding the paper up. “Can I keep this for a moment?”

“No,” Long growls. “If you’re involved, you’ll inform those guilty.”

“I need the paper. I don’t have a perfect memory,” Chaos points out, “but I don’t think that you’re letting me out of your sight just yet.” An irritating smirk crosses Chaos’ face. “I’m more valuable in another way, right now. If you take me to Angie, she won’t have to suffer in the hospital for long. If she’s willing to see me, that is.”

[Long]

"A nova doctor has already seen to her wounds. Her own ability to heal damage to her body was working in full swing when i left, he too was using his abilities to assist. To be honest Chaos, I do not think she would see you. You have truly upset her. In her current condition it would be unwise for you to see her."

His eyes narrow. "Like I told you, I want to be fair. You and her have some issues to resolve. You made a huge mistake and you have to live with it. You suffered an incredible loss that believe me I can sympathize with. She was pretty tore up by what you said to her, and I admit, if she'd have asked me I'd have killed you. But right now I'm willing to come here and put all that aside and ask you to help me find out who did this. So, are you going to help or do I need to be leaving?"

[z-Sean McCline]

"She thinks she's punishing me by keeping me away and not forgiving me," Chaos mutters. "But it's a lot easier to not face her."

Chaos loses his bravo. "I remember that drugs have no affect on her," he says. "She has to be in bad shape right now. I can heal her."

Long snarls at this bald-faced lie. Angie has never mentioned that when she talked of Chaos; one night, she had told Long all of his powers, 'in case I decide to have you kill him.'

"I can now," Chaos says, reaching into his pocket. Long tenses, but Chaos only pulls out a misshappen cigarette and lighter. "I developed the ability about... ten days ago," he mutters as he lights up. Long instantly realizes its not tobacco by its smell, even as Sean offers, "Want one?"

[Long]

"I don't smoke, a drink sometimes perhaps. You still haven't answered my question."

At the mention of healers something conects in Long's brain. "Neil's father Preston, I should have gone to him first. He could really be of some help. Chaos, if you want to help me, that's great, if not I'll be leaving."

Long's tail lashes about behind him as he punches a few commands into his wristcom.

[z-Sean McCline]

"Sure, whatever," Chaos grunts. It's a bit peeving that he admitted something like that to Long and the guy didn't even blink. "I'll help."

He pats his jacket. "Sorry, left my flask on my boat."

[Long]

Long blasts off in the direction the wristcom indicated to Preston's office. He keeps to a fair speed that doesn't shatter windows and one Sean can keep up with. He descends to the front of the Police station. "Not a word about our ties. Play it cool, if what I'm thinking is correct, we're expected." Long enters the station quietly and respectfully asks to speak to Preston.

[Preston]

Even as Long asks, Preston and a tall, good-looking man whose very aura screams "hero" come down the stairs in this late Victorian building.

"I got it, Maggie," he addresses the police receptionist.

Preston looks rumpled and care-worn, yet earnest. The other man keeps to Preston's left right side as the two of them walk outside. Preston gives Sean and Long a questioning eye as he and the nova-cop known as Virgil walk past.

[Long]

"It is good to meet you in person Preston. What you did in Ibiza saved alot of lives. It was rough, but I believe that those of us who tried to stop the fighting and help the people trapped there made a difference." Long's tail tightly curls around his waist as his demeanor changes.

"I hate to impose, but I feel this is warranted. There has been an incident that I believe you may be able to help me with. Perhaps there is a less public and open place we could talk?"

[Preston]

Preston stops and looks at Long as if he is the greatest moron he has ever met.

"You are here to see me about the attempted murder of your wife in Nippon. We can sit here and wait for the next Utopian watchdog to come waltzing in," Preston looks down at his analog wristwatch, "or we can take a walk outside. Your choice."

[z-Sean McCline]

Chaos is about ready to kill Long. A fucking Police Station? Fuck! Doesn't Angie's fucker know that I'm wanted? Does Long even care? Long's words are hardly reassuring; Chaos has found that things are really much worse when the police expect you.

But there are some compensations: Chaos feels his eyebrows rise when he sees Preston for the first time. Nice, he thinks as he gives him the once-over. Pretty eyes. And a precog. Never had one of those before. Kinda kinky when you think about it.

As much as he'd like to start feeling the guy out, he lets Long talk; it's his gig.

[Long]

"My views of Utopia are well known. Let's go then."

[z-Sean McCline]

"Sounds good to me," Sean agrees with his best charming smile... added with a small burst of Quantum and it's suddenly a touch warmer in the room. The baseline receptionist shifts nervously as she gazes at Chaos. "Privacy is in order."

[Preston]

Preston leads the out of he building, down the steps and down toward the sea. For almost a minute, he says nothing. He pulls out some Lucky Strikes and lights one up. Virgil looks on disapprovingly.

After they cut across the graveyard at the Old North Church, Preston looks over at Virgil,

"Nothing is going to happen tonight. Head back to the station. I'll be back in fifteen."

Virgil looks back at the two Terats with something akin to an untrained intimidating glance. The man is just too naturally friendly to pull it off. Then he glows and takes off rapidly into the air.

"Okay, I don't think anyone is going to here in time. Let's bolt. We can talk when I tell you its okay. Nothing else til then."

He waits for someone to pick him up.

[z-Sean McCline]

Sean silently offers a hand and a lazy smile. "Let's go, then."

[Preston]

Preston takes his hand without question.

[Long]

Long offers before they bolt off. "Name the place and I'll get us there much faster, unless you just prefer to run or fly."

[Preston]

"Up."

[z-Sean McCline]

Chaos draws the man closer, careful to not cross any lines. This guy was cute, but he was a cop and wasn't cute enough to risk jail for.

Still, Chaos is enjoying himself; he just makes sure he tips his head back before he lets himself grin with pleasure.

He almost kills Long when the man threatens to ruin his fun. But that's ok, because Preston seems to want a ride form Chaos.

[Long]

Long rises into the air easily matching pace with Chaos. He waits for them to decide just how high they want to continue going. His tail unfurls again, lashing about lazily behind him as he rises.

[Preston]

Once they rise up, Preton points toward a cloud bank in the night sky. Once inside the cloud, Preston puts up a small screened device infront of Sean's face. It flashes and address, followed by a map. The map has three dots in blue and a steady dot in red. The red dot is over the sea and appears to be airborne.

[z-Sean McCline]

Chaos looks at the device, committing it to memory; once he's got it, he nods at Preston. Contrary to his attitude from a moment ago, he's suddenly serious. Angling to the side, he rolls into a graceful turn and heads toward the red dot.

[Preston]

When they hit the appropriate place, both Long and Sean see a dark-skinned woman wearing a teddy falling out of the sky.

Preston says "Wait."

A warp opens up infront of the three men as she plummets past. She waves at Preston. Through the portal, Sean and Long see the Kyoto skyline.

[Long]

Long follows patiently. His mind wanders back to Timeslip and the scene of the attack. He plays over the events as he knows them. Preston already knows what has happened. He likely has a good read of my intentions. I'm going to be straight on ths, there's no point in it. If I can get him to help, then my own vengence will be sacrificed. So be it. Better to have the right answer than many wrong ones coated in blood.

[z-Sean McCline]

"And there's our hole," Sean mutters, making sure that he has a solid grip on Preston. He wouldn't want to drop him half-in, half-out.

Sean eases through the portal, careful not to let himself or his passenger touch the sides. He's never trusted these damn things...

And he's in Japan. He's always meant to visit - and doesn't that cute pink-haired girl live 'round here?

[Preston]

"I have about four different kinds of problems back there. No reason for them to see me leaving with two suspected terrorists. Now, we go to the crime scene."

Preston looks over at Sean.

"I've heard some interesting things from Project Utopia about you. Seems you like taking our research scientists and pushing back Utopia's search for a cure to taint. I would like to see your side of story."

Sean gets the very real impression that Preston is very much flesh and blood and falling from this height would undoubtably be exceedingly fatal. Beyond that, the man has no fear.