Mutants & Masterminds: StarGate Freedom - Prologue: Narinder and Christian

[z-Servant of Ra]

Continued from Bethany, Narinder and Christian

The Mustang roared angrily as Christian barreled between two buildings. In contrast, its driver was calm, collected and suave. Narinder hated him more as the man remained as cold as ice, no matter what the situation.

"They don't seem to be following," Christian said after a moment. He settled more fully into his seat, his eyes on picking out the path ahead of them.

Narinder tried not to think about what might be distracting them as they raced further and further away from one of his best friends in the world.

Click to reveal..

Christian, where are you driving? That will determine the next things that happen.

[Christian H. Blues]

"Where are we heading?" Narinder asked, angry dark eyes tightening further as his chauffeur appeared to ignore his question, choosing to respond with a terse "Buckle up." Christian's dark eyes were in constant motion as he drove in silence, even as his hands remained rock-steady on the wheel of the convertible. He reached over and adjusted the driver's side wing mirror, twisting it so that it angled more upwards than straight behind. He made a short noise of satisfaction: the mirror would cover the skies above and behind the car.

Right now, knowing what was above you was important.

He slid the Mustang around a corner, turning up a main street and headed north, handling the car with panache as tires screeched. He avoided the freeway, tempting as the on-ramp sign was. A fast moving target on a wide open road was just too noticeable, and there was no way C.H. Blues was going to attract any notice if he could help it. Instincts both innate and trained were kicking in: when the heat came down hard, duck and run. Don't hide, don't panic, and move with purpose. Old, cold eyes in a young pleasant face glanced at Narinder.

"I've got a rat-line. A way out of the U.S. into Canada and a place to lay low." He smiled abruptly then, the eyes warming with wry mirth as they went back to scanning the road ahead and the mirrors. "Never thought I'd have to use it, least of all because of a damn alien invasion. What about you? Got a place you want to be dropped off?"

[Narinder Kapoor]

Nari was silent for a long moment, long enough to make Christian think that perhaps the other man was too distracted by the situation to have heard him.. or too angry to want to answer. In his mind he rummaged through his possible options, trying to push aside the image of Bethany standing there, waiting for her fate. Finally, the grave-faced ambassador motioned towards a gas station they were quickly approaching.

"I do not know. Could you pull into this gas station up ahead? I need to make a call. Satellite communication has been disabled, so my cell phone is useless."

Christian glanced at the station as he approached it and shook his head firmly. The line was snaked out of the parking lot, and gas had leapt three dollars in the last hour. It was disgusting to Nari and yet unsurprising that even with such a disaster, people were more concerned about making a profit than they were other people's safety. He grit his teeth with frustration, but refrained from arguing with his cool-headed driver about it. He was probably right, anyway. They drove in silence for another few moments before his gaze fell on an empty telephone booth next to the abandoned bus stop - people were too desperate to get out of town or hide somewhere to bother much with public transportation, especially with no guarantee the buses were even running. He motioned quickly towards it.

"There. Let me use that one, then. It will take only a moment."

Christian nodded curtly, pulling over to the side of the street as Narinder hopped out of the car. He ran over to the phone, picking it up and rummaging his pockets for some change. Then he dialed a number and carried on a hurried but hushed conversation. It took him only a few moments before he hung up the phone and hurried back over to the car, slamming the door as he got back in.

"I am going to Colorado, to a city called Aurora. This rat-line.. does it take you straight north, or will you be heading first to the west?"

[Christian H. Blues]

"Straight north, more or less. Def'nitely nowhere near Colorado." C.H. replied calmly as he pressed down on the gas once more. "Sorry, my man, but I'm not getting anywhere within a state's distance of Cheyenne Mountain with an alien invasion going on. At least, not without a damn good reason." They drove in silence for a short while, Narinder not wasting time fuming or making emotional appeals, which at least gave him kudos in the ever-pragmatic C.H's book.

They'd left Washington behind and were taking the highway north when the young musician (who was obviously used to playing some tough gigs judging by the hardware in the back seat) appeared to reach a decision.

"Look, I won't need the car once I get to the Lakes. You stick with me that far, you can keep the wheels and go wherever you like. There's a small cabin with a trailer full of gasoline there, so you'll have a full tank and a night's sleep before you set out again." The youth shrugged, the look of ancient wariness giving way to an impish grin for a second. "Or we can look for a car for you before that. Either way, I'll give you that much help."

[Narinder Kapoor]

Narinder regarded him quietly for a moment, then nodded in agreement, looking somewhere between relaxed and resigned. Perhaps he might be able to convince the matter-of-fact young man to part with a couple of his weapons once they split their paths - surely if he wasn't taking the car he wouldn't be able to carry them all anyway.

"That sounds more than generous.. I thank you for it. I will travel with you until then, two is better than one if we come across any trouble."

He was quiet for a moment, looking at the buildings as they passed by. Then he spoke again, though his voice held the coolness of someone used to controlling their emotions instead of letting themselves be overwhelmed by them.

"Bethany said your name was Christian, but you said you prefer C.H.? My name is Narinder. How did - how do you and Bethany know each other?"

[Christian H. Blues]

"It was their tenth anniversary. The Senator and Mrs DeCoursey, that is." Christian said, turning on the stereo as he drove. Coltrane's "Blue Train" played dimly as he explained. "It was right after I graduated from Juilliard, and it turns out the senator had heard me play at some point and wanted me to play at his party." Christian smiled as he remembered. "Yeah, the senator appreciated good jazz. Cool guy, not what I'd expect of a politician. Knew his jazz and blues, too. Preferred hard bop, which is how I knew he had taste and discernment." He grinned at Narinder before turning his eyes back to the road. Despite the speed he was driving and the tension of the situation, he was otherwise completely relaxed in his seat. It would be hard to picture him any more laid back without his being asleep. However the diplomat, a skilled people-watcher, noted that C.H's dark eyes never stopped watching the mirrors or scanning the sky as he drove.

"Anyway, Mrs DeCoursey was a really nice hostess. I think she introduced me to practically everyone, especially the single and pretty female guests." Blues chuckled at that. "I remember thinking that was really sweet and cool of her. And then when my folks died two months later, they noticed and sent me a card with a note inside saying if there was anything they could do, I should ask. Good people." C.H. finished with an easy smile, as though he weren't talking about someone he'd left behind alone to face god-knows-what alien menace.

[Narinder Kapoor]

Narinder nodded slightly, trying to ignore the feeling that someone had wrapped their fingers around his heart and was squeezing painfully. He remembered their tenth anniversary differently, but that's because he hadn't been able to make the actual party. He had been out of town on business at the time, he'd had a trip to Mumbai that he'd been obligated to attend. So he'd flown into Washington two days after, and insisted on taking Bethany and Daniel out to an celebratory dinner. He'd reserved their favorite restaurant - not any of the fancy hotels or ritzy D.C. restaurants they frequented so often during dinners with other political friends.. but a small hole in the wall restaurant in nearby Fredericksburg that served the best Peanut Pad Thai anywhere on the east coast south of New York City. It was Bethany's favorite.

"Then it is only by chance that we have not met before. I was out of town for their anniversary party. But they always did throw exceptional parties."

He was quiet for another long moment, and when he spoke again it was almost too quiet to make out over the rush of the air all around them as they sped down the streets with the convertible's top down. Indeed, it seemed almost as if he was talking to himself more than to the cool-headed man in the driver's seat beside him.

"Daniel will never forgive me. I promised to bring her home to him."

[Christian H. Blues]

C.H. glanced over at his words, dark eyes inscrutable, then shrugged with one shoulder as he took another turn. This highway would take them north by northwest, and Christian settled in for the long drive. Slim fingers plucked a cereal bar from the stores in the back seat and offered it to Narinder before he took another for himself. John Coltrane gave way to Nina Simone on the CD changer, and the two men drove awhile in silence which, if not entirely comfortable, was at least companionable.

[z-Servant of Ra]

The roads rolled away behind them and slowly, Narinder fell asleep. Christian focused on the road, his eyes open despite the long day he'd had. The music was soothing; it was good music to think to while worrying over thoughts like a loose tooth with a tongue.

They were near Pennsylvania at about four in the afternoon. Ahead of them stretched a line of debris over the road. Even from here, they could see the hulking, familiar ship behind the debris. People seemed to be lining up in rows, heading toward the ship.

[Christian H. Blues]

"Crap." Christian said as he slowed the car to a stop, his tone one of mild frustration. Narinder began to wake next to him, blinking once or twice, then sitting bolt upright at the sight before them. C.H. smiled wryly at him. "They would have to park themselves on the road." He glanced around, seeing if there were any obvious alien soldier-types around. He was fairly certain they'd stand out, despite never having seen one before.

"Well, we can look for a way off the road and to go around." C.H. said, scanning their surroundings with a cold eye. "But in case they've already spotted us, you might want to help yourself to some of the goods in the back seat."

[Narinder Kapoor]

Narinder nodded with a small grimace, and reached into the backseat. He looked for the simplest weapon he could find, for guns and violence were something that Narinder was only acquainted with on more of an academic level than any practical one. He settled on a basic handgun, fairly certain that he could figure out the basics. He checked the safety to make sure it was on, and then checked to make sure the gun was loaded. He held the weapon tentatively on his lap for now, and nodded curtly to Christian.

"Let us try to avoid seeing if I can use one of these for now, shall we?"

Then he reached up and pulled the seat-belt into place with a quiet "click" before resuming his grip on the gun in his lap and staring nervously at the alien ship directly ahead.

[z-Servant of Ra]

Christian started to turn around, only to find one of those ships darting in low to hover before the car. Cannons underneath swiveled around sharply to point at them. The intent was clear.

"Turn around." The voice was heavily accented with Grecian tones, but his English was clear. It seemed to be broadcasting from the ship. "Take your place in line for the census."

[Christian H. Blues]

"Well fuck." C.H. said as though he'd suddenly found a mile-long tailback in front of them rather than a hovering alien death machine pointing high-tech doom at his prized Mustang. He sighed and glanced at Narinder, then shrugged and turned the car around again, driving towards where the rows of people were lining up.

"We don't have much option right now." he told Narinder quietly under the rumble of the engine. "But I'll be dead 'n damned before they microchip us or whatever. Stick close and follow my lead, and if you're a religious man pray that their guns and spaceships make them stupid."

As he drew closer and parked about 200 metres away, C.H. studied the lines of people leading up to the ship. Somewhat more keenly, he attempted to discern whether anyone was coming out. Getting out of his car, he picked up his saxophone case from the back seat and hung it by the carry-strap from his shoulder. Throwing Narinder a wry smile, he shrugged once more.

"Hey. Maybe they like musicians."

[Narinder Kapoor]

Narinder let out an amused yet sarcastic noise, and climbed out of the car with Christian. He considered the gun for a brief moment, but with all these civilians around, the presence of armed alien guards, and his general inability to do much more than identify the end you point with from the trigger, Narinder knew it would probably hurt them more than help them. So he dropped it in the seat with a sigh, and the two men started to walk towards the queue together. He made an amused noise at Christian's statement, and his lips twisted wryly though he kept his voice low.

"Well then, I am certainly out of luck. No one likes politicians."

[z-Servant of Ra]

They waited for a while. It was cool today, autumn's bluster a mere promise in the air. Gradually, a woman came around with drinks - cans of soda and bottled waters in a wheeled cooler. She was dressed oddly, in a white tunic. It was vaguely Grecian; a soft blue tunic that fell to her ankles, tied around her middle with a woven red belt. A lightening bolt had been marked on her forehead in black ink. It was, the two men judged, a henna mark or a recent tattoo. She smiled shyly at them, but any attempt to talk to her was met with a shrug and a coy shake of her head - until Narinder tried Arabic. His simple greeting brought a confused look to her face, and then she said, "You say godly words!" It wasn't exactly Arabic that she spoke, but the linguist's ear caught that her alien language had a tie to this human one.

Narinder smiled fetchingly and tried, "What is your name?"

The girl said something too quickly for him to piece together and turned from them. Lifting her skirts, she hauled ass back to one of the guards, speaking quickly to him. When she pointed back at Narinder, the Hindi man realized that conversing with the natives hadn't been the best idea.

The guard began to walk toward him, as the girl trailed beside, still talking quickly in yet another tongue. As they neared, Narinder thought that language was familiar, too.

[Narinder Kapoor]

Narinder kept his expression carefully neutral, but focused on listening to what she was saying to the other man to see if he could decipher it.

Click to reveal..

Int + Language + 1d20 = 1d20+4+5 → [9,4,5] = (18)

http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2453200/

Not Latin, but not quite Arabic either.. what on earth are they speaking.. I know I've heard something like it...

He took a deep breath, and muttered quietly to Christian, keeping his voice pitched low and his eyes trailed on the pair approaching them.

"Greek.. it sounds kind of like they're speaking Greek."

"Great.. so what are they saying?"

"I don't know. I don't speak Greek."

[z-Servant of Ra]

The guard looked wary as he came to join them. He rattled off something quickly, leaving Narinder struggling to understand. "Slower, please," he said in Arabic, earning himself a startled look from the man. Again, he caught the phrase 'godly words' when the man muttered, but he had no idea what they meant. Clearly, Arabic was related to a holy language of theirs, an implication both fascinating and frightening. Extraterritorial Muslims sounded like every Republican's worst nightmare.

Narinder didn't have much time to consider this point, for the guard caught him by the arm and started to pull him away. "Wha- where are we going?" he stammered in Arabic.

The man rattled off something unhelpful, mostly because he said it in what Narinder thought was Greek. He was being pulled toward the front of the line, he realized suddenly, and wondered if that was actually a place he wanted to be.

[Narinder Kapoor]

Narinder shot a nervous glance over his shoulder at the young musician, but took in a breath and tried to draw himself up and keep a steady bearing. Perhaps if these.. extra-terrestrials spoke Arabic, he could communicate with them, find out why they were here and the cause of their hostility.

The thought didn't do much to appease his nervousness, but he was at least able to regain a measure of calm for now. After all, this might not be the long-standing India-Pakistan conflict, or debate regarding the continuing discrimination by way of the caste system. But he was still a diplomat, perhaps he could do something. He would have to try, he had no other choice now that they had been captured. So he followed the guard, and did his best to avoid the pang of guilt in his stomach that came with the knowledge that he'd done just what Bethany had wanted him to avoid, what she'd convinced him to abandon her for. He'd gotten captured anyway.

I'm sorry, Cinnamon. I should have stayed with you in the first place.. I'd rather be facing this with my dearest friend.

[z-Servant of Ra]

Christian was left behind as the guard pulled Narinder away. He was marched through the dusting of snow to the front of the line. There, they only waited a few moments before one of the trailer doors opened. Two men, one white, one black, were clutching a Chinese baby between them. They had a Look about them which helped Narider fill in the gaps regarding their personal lives. The expression on their face was one of dawning relief as they hurried away. Narinder hold the white man say, "That wasn't so bad!"

"Yet," the black man said. "C'mon, Dougie, let's get home!"

The guard gave Narinder a prod forward; it was gentle considering what it could have been. He got the hint and walked into the trailer, not sure what to expect. What he didn't expect was the golden-haired, gorgeous young man dressed in a toga there. He spoke in what Narinder assumed was Greek, in a booming voice that sounded like it was spoken through amplification. The man in modern clothing with ethnic Greek features started to speak, but before he could talk, the guard spoke up. It was in that strange near-Arabic, but Narinder thought he was telling the golden-haired man about Narinder's ability to speak the tongue of the gods.

The man looked at him, and his eyes flared with sudden light. His voice rolled with those booming sounds again as he talked; Narinder thought he was asking Narinder to say something and prove his claim.

[Narinder Kapoor]

Narinder tried to suppress his sudden apprehension, but the guard was close enough to see his nervous swallow. It was perhaps only through exposure to modern-day media, to movies with special effects so realistic that even the average person was used to magical marvels, that kept the diplomat off his knees in supplication. Then again, those were just movies, and perhaps it was Narinder's experience with real-world brow-beating politicians that allowed him to meet the gaze of the golden "god" as he spoke to him in the Arabic language, projecting his voice with confidence and clarity.

"My name is Narinder Kapoor. On behalf of humankind, I wish to politely inquire about your business on our planet and the cause of your apparent hostility."

Click to reveal..

Just in case it's useful:

d20+Cha+Diplomacy: 6+5+17 = 26

http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2512868/

[z-Servant of Ra]

The golden god frowned at him, then rose to his feet. "You speak poorly," he said, or so Narinder thought. The language he spoke was more complex than Arabic, and Narinder wasn't always sure what he was saying. He said something to the soldier who spoke and shrugged at the same time. Turning back to Narinder, the man said, "You do not know the god's tongue, yet you might learn it easier than the other pitiful beings here." Those beautiful eyes settled on the guard again. "Take him to the Triumph of Olympus for edification. He will be one of our translators." The man looked away as the guard grabbed Narinder's arm and began to tug him out of the trailer.

He was being treated like a thing, not a person. And his questions still weren't getting answered. Should he play along for now, or try something here?

[Narinder Kapoor]

Narinder gazed at the man, even as he felt himself being pulled from the trailer. The indignation in him flared, and for a moment he felt like shouting, yelling, demanding his answers. But even as the words of anger touched the tip of his tongue, he caught himself. With effort, he reigned in his frustration and pride, for he could tell that this 'person' would not be swayed or intimidated. And indeed, why should he? They seemed to have superior technology, superior language abilities.. who knew in what other ways they were superior to mankind?

But that didn't mean that all of these people were so resistant. Indeed, this man seemed above them all. Perhaps he could get others to talk, to tell him what he wanted to know.

Besides.. this is better than drawing attention to myself, possibly getting myself killed. Bethany wouldn't want that, it's why she talked me into running. So don't be a fool, Narinder. Shut up and learn what you can.. and maybe you can still get away and do something with it.

So with that, he turned away from the golden-haired man and allowed himself to be pulled from the trailor, keeping his mouth shut the whole way, though he kept his eyes open at everywhere they went and what was going on around them.

[z-Servant of Ra]

Narinder was led to a squat, triangle-shaped ship. It was very clearly a spaceship, though smaller and less lethal looking than the others he'd seen. There, he was pushed aboard; he caught a quick glance of a control room before he was shoved into a back room with seven other people. A family of four Middle Eastern people huddled together, while a young black man with glasses watched with scared, glazed eyes. A young woman with dusky skin was leaning sullenly against a wall, holding a rag to a cut on her head. Her hair was striped with various colors and she had numerous piercings, as well as a University of Ohio hoodie. The last man was very white - Germanic or Swiss heritage, wearing a tie, white shirt and pants set.

"Lemme guess," the white guy said sardonically as the door hissed shut behind Narinder, "they found out you speak Arabic."

[Narinder Kapoor]

Narinder's lips twitched with wry amusement as he nodded slightly to the other man, the one with the college professor-like air about him.

"I take it this is an ability we all share?"

The man nodded back, and Narinder looked around, taking in their surroundings as well as the other people in the room. He assumed that they wouldn't leave any easy escape methods, but it didn't hurt to take stock, just in case something had been missed. As he looked, he spoke, hoping to gather as much information about the situation as he could, and giving each person a casual glance as he did so, hoping to notice whether any of them - for any reason - were being less than forthcoming.

"Did anyone find out anything about them? Where they are from, or if there is some cause for their aggression? Did they say anything at all to any of you, other than making demands as if we were trained dogs, or ignoring you completely?"

Click to reveal..

Rolling to notice any possible escape routes, or other useful things to help in the current situation.

1d20 → [17] + 6 + 4 = 27

http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2533908/

Rolling for Sense Motive: 1d20 → [13] + 1 + 5 = 19

http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2533920/

[z-Servant of Ra]

"They haven't said much to us," the man said. He stood up and extended his hand. "Colton Bray, Head of Middle Eastern Acquistions for Creytech, Inc." The girl rolled her eyes at the addition of a title. "You are?"

"Narinder Kapoor," Narinder said, refusing to reveal his connections to any prying ears. "The rest of you?"

The Arabic family was the Najjars; they had been visiting relatives, they said, when separated from their hosts by the invasion. They were from Yemen, and to Narinder, their accent and affectations seemed valid. The young man was Lamont Jackson, a student at Washington University in St. Louis who had tried to get back to his family in Akron, Ohio when he was picked up. His Arabic came from attempting a deeper understanding of the Koran. The woman gave the odd name Badra Smith; she had been majoring in Middle Eastern studies at the University of Ohio in Columbus. Like Lamont, she'd been picked up trying to get back to her mother. "I overheard one of them saying that we'd learn to fear the gods again, I think," Badra told them. "Their dialect is weird, but it sounded like they thought they'd been here before."

Their conversation was cut off by the sensation of movement. "We're rising, I think," Lamont said, his voice thick with fear.

"Up to the mothership," Badra muttered.

In what seemed like a very short time the ship stopped again, and they were hussled out. They were in a place decorated heavily with Grecian and Egyptian elements. The Najjars were taken to one room, while the rest of them were escorted to another. They were left there for only a few moments before the door opened, and a bearded man in robes stood before them. He looked around the room, then pointed at Colton. The two guards with him grabbed him, dragging the protesting man out. The door closed, leaving the three of them alone.

"Oh shit," Lamont whispered, his eyes as big as saucers. "What do you think they're doing to him."

Badra was pale, but she said, "Try not to think about it. We can't know." She didn't say it, but the other two were thinking the same: we'll find out soon enough.

[Narinder Kapoor]

Narinder placed a hand on Badra's shoulder, giving her a gentle but reassuring squeeze.

"Try not to worry. They told us that we are to be translators - if they want us to this for them, then hopefully they will be smart enough not to turn us against them too much.. at least on a personal level. I would hope that they are intelligent enough to know that if they treat us too terribly we may refuse to translate for them. They seem to have a use for us. This is better than being useless. Hang in there.. both of you. And try to stay alert, yes? Just in case any opportunities present themselves."

With that, Narinder waited nervously for the bearded man's return, or anyone really. Not expecting to find much, he still made the effort to look around the room they were in to see if there were any escape options in this new location.

When the door finally slid open again, he stepped forward, ready to be the next one taken. Lamont was trying to hide his terror at the idea of being taken, but was failing miserably, and Narinder's ingrained sense of chivalry demanded that he try to protect Badra as best he could, despite how archaic of a concept it might seem to many modern westerners.

Click to reveal..

Roll for escape routes: 1d20 → [1] + 4 + 6 = 11. Wow. Pathetic. LOL.

http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2545615/

Anyway, if any of that last paragraph is inaccurate or out of character, do let me know and I can modify, or feel free to do so yourself as appropriate, no hard feelings here!

[z-Servant of Ra]

The man who stood there didn't look like a conquering alien. He looked a little like a college nerd with rumpled hair and glasses. He was dressed in modern clothing, which made Narinder wonder if he really was one of the aliens. He glanced between the three of them, then pointed at Narinder and asked in American-accented English, "Where are you from? India?"

"Yes, originally," Narinder said simply.

"And you speak Arabic?" At Narinder's surprised nod, he said, "Excellent" and rubbed his hands together. He looked at Badra. "And you look like a counter-culture sort of lady. Let's get you out of here before someone decides to make you into a project. Both of you, come on."

"You only need one of us," Narinder said quickly.

The man turned toward him and all traces of geniality were gone. "I decide what I need," the alien said sharply. "I do need both of you, and both of you will come with me." As Narinder sagged a little, the man looked past them and added, "Sorry, kid, I understand Ares is looking for a translator. This is kinda like getting picked last for the team in kickball, only worse."

He smiled and shrugged at Lamont's stricken expression as he left. In the hallway, he said, "We don't have much time. Who wants to volunteer for a potentially dangerous mission."

"I do," Narinder said quickly.

"Hmm, you don't seem dumb, so you must be chivalrous. Not a recommended state of mind, my new slave." He wagged a finger over his shoulder as he spoke, as if he were a college professor giving a naughty student advice.

"Slave?" Badra asked, her voice nervous.

"Yeah," the guys said, looking sheepish. "That's the way it works, I'm afraid. I am the master, you are the slave... it's a whole master-slave kind of thing." Narinder caught a glint of cruelty in his eyes as he spoke, and knew that their new 'master' enjoyed their discomfort. "Anyway, mission. You," he said, dropping back and putting his arm over Narinder's shoulder, "you are... what is your name?"

"Narinder Kapoor."

"Narinder, you are going with some nice people planetside to help them roust a very bad man and return him to Cronus' custody," he said. "What I want you to do is translate for them as needed, though Persephone speaks very good English... as does Hephaestus, come to think of it. Does that seem at all odd to you?" Before Narinder could reply, he continued, "Anyway, act as translator for them on this mission and report back to me."

He suddenly stopped, pulling Narinder around to face him. "And let me add - do what I say and you'll be rewarded. Good food, a decent private space of your own and even some creature comforts. Fuck it up, and Badra will die. Slowly and painfully after being tortured as many ways as I can think of. Now say goodbye to her - it's the last time you'll see her until you do as you're told. Any questions?"

"Yes." Narinder had all too clear a picture at this point. "What is your name?"

"Charon. But feel free to call me Master." He tilted his head. "Master. Such a nice ring, don't you think?"