A Vegetarian's Delight (IC)

[Taika of Narfell]

Montgomery Parish

Thursday 18th of September 2003. As you sort through your morning post one letter stands out among the usual bills and ads. It is a plain white envelope, the sender is a Kyle Reese.

You have heard the name before - of that much you're certain - thinking harder you recall a fellow med-student from Stanford, and quite a bright one at that, but you have not been in touch since you left med school.

In the envelope is a handwritten letter. It is clearly written in either haste or excitement - both perhaps.

The letter reads:

Dear Monty (I hope it's all right to call you that)

I know it's been quite a while since last we met, and
when we did meet back at Stanford we were hardly
more than aquaintances. Still I write to you simply
because I feel you are the only doctor I know who
might truly appreciate my findings.
I have recently made quite a marvellous medical
discovery. Or rather: I have discovered someone else's
forgotten and never published discoveries. It will
certainly revolutionize cosmetic surgery. What we now
deem impossible will soon be within our reach - at least
if I am correct. This is why I am writing to you. I would
be much obliged if you would come visit me and review
my experiments. I am most eager to hear a fellow
expert's opinion on my astounding results.

I fly to New York at times to visit my fiancé, Janet, and
she will be coming here soon to visit me. If you could
plan your visits to be at the same time, I could pick up
both of you in Atlanta Airport.

In the letter is detailed the address and phone
number of a Janet Shin[/color]

------------------------------------
Percy O'Sullivan

Having your usual cup of morning tea you leaf through the pages of this month's SuperNaturalMagazine. There really weren't any interesting articles this time - and what's more - no good pictures. The time has come to read the small notices - doing so you stumble across something interesting:

The notice reads:

Walking Trees?

A family on vacation in Georgia's countryside has
reported a very interesting sight. Their 7 year old son
came running into their tent talking about walking trees
one evening. As the parents went outside to
investigate they could indeed see the swaying branches
of a tall tree above the treetops of the nearby forest
- and it moved in a Westerly direction. "It must have
been the wind and the low light that fooled our eyes
but it was an interesting sight," the mother said to us.

SuperNaturalMagazine would like to know more about
this. If anyone has seen something similar and can
document it with photos, we will pay a handsome
reward for your findings - and the exclusive right to
print it in the magazine.[/color]

[Az]

Percy reads the article again, and chuckls at the thought of walking trees.

"While it sounds very vague, little boys are oft proven correct." he mumbles to himself. "This could be interesting. Plus, the SNM could do with some better photo's...where DO they get these, sheesh."

He takes another gulp of tea, and walks over to his phone, magazine in one hand, tea in the other. Putting the magazine down, he quickly browses to the phonenumbers, and calls them up. He dials the number, takes a quick sip of tea and waits for the phone to be picked up.

A woman's voice greets you. "SuperNaturalMagazine, this is Camille, how may I help you?"

He looks at his Camille tea. Interesting. "Good morning Camille, Percy O'Sullivan here. How are you dear? That's great. Listen, I'm calling about a small article on page sixteen, of this month's SNM, the one about the walking trees."

A sigh is heard. "Ah yes, that one, and I suppose you have truckload of photos for us..." She sounds slightly exasperated.

"Oh no, I don't. Well, not yet, that's what I'm calling for."

"Uh huh"

"You see, I am, as you may have guessed, a photographer, and I'm quite interested in this little post. I'm willing to check it out and shoot some very nice shots. Afterall, it looks like SNM can use them... Are you still interested in getting some?"

Her voice takes on a more interested note. "Well, as you may have gathered from my attitude already, we have hundreds of pictures that show us absolutely nothing but the normal trees in people's backyards - and we are not a gardening magazine. Can you provide us with something better we'll always be interested - what makes you call us before you have the pictures?"

"The simple reason of having no clue where to take them. Might you have an adress of the people who the article is about?"

"Why you're the first to ask, so yes, I think I can give you their address without risking they'll be overrun. Gimme a sec." You hear the receiver being laid down on the table with a small clunk, and then the rustling of papers. "Yes, here we are. Susan and John Langley from Atlanta" She provides a phone number as well "I really hope you'll get us something real - I'm tired of telling people that the oak in their garden stands in exactly the same place in all their pictures."

"Yeah, nowadays everyone just wants to be special." Sigh "Oh well, thanks a bunch Cam, you're a sweetheart. I'll get back to you as soon as I've got something good, see ya then! Oh! And, on a business related note, what's that reward they were offering anyway?"

"10$ for a picture in which something that looks like walking trees can be seen, 50 for a picture that is sharp and there's no doubt about the motive, anything spectacular will be bought for the price you can negociate with our editor - do your job well, and you'll be paid well." She rattles it off automatically and it's clear that she's said it many times.

"Psh, puny prices. I'll bring in something that's worth some more zero's. Thanks doll, talk to ya soon!"

"No problem, Mr O'Sullivan, I hope next time you have some pictures to talk about"

"Will have sugar, will have."

Percy puts down the phone, and quickly writes down the name and phonenumber he remembered.

"Excellent, will call them in a minute. But first, this tea needs more sugar. And honey."

[SonOfMoradin]

So - can I handle Kyle, and his ever upbeat and sheerful attitude? Will he even want me, now that I am no longer in medicine? And am I ready to go back... he thought.

"No!" he said aloud, even though the only one there to hear him was Chris, the tragic victem of drinking too much, then getting behind the wheel of his car. "No, I cant go back. Not yet. Not now." He turned to the corpse "They just dont understand - they just dont get it. I need time to come to terms with what I did, and who I am now. Plus, I have not practiced medicine in so long, I wouldnt be any help anyway."

He walked over towards the phone, putting down the scalpel. "But Ill call him and let him know. I owe him that much." he said, picking up the phone. He paused "I hope his fiance isnt as bubbly and up-beat as he was."

He began to dial...

[Taika of Narfell]

Montgomery Parish

The phone is picked up and a calm woman's voice is heard

"Janet Shin here"

"Hello Janet, this is Montgomery Parish. I am an old acquaintance of Kyle’s from Stanford. He wrote me a letter with this number and asked that I contact him."

You hear recognition in her voice as she speaks.

"Ahhh yes, he told me you'd be calling me... Soooo will you be coming? Kyle was positive that was the case."

She chuckles lightly at that.

"Well, I am not the person that Kyle remembers. A lot has happened since Stanford. I think he would do better to find someone that would more suit his needs. Is he there? Could I speak with him, please?"

"He's not here now, no. May I ask why you don't think you're suited for it? Kyle says you really knew your stuff. I don't know anything about cosmetic surgery, but Kyle is terribly excited about his findings. He's been talking about complete restoration of wounds without scar tissue. To me it sounds a bit too fantastic."

She sighs.

"But as I don't know anything of this field, he won't even bother to tell me the real details. I'm worried about him, lately he's been getting more and more reclusive, and he doesn't call me as often as he used..."

She abruptly stops her sentence.

"I'm sorry, I'm sure you didn't call me to hear a 1st class rant. Are you sure you don't have time for visiting him? If nothing else then to tell him he's going nowhere with this..."

"Restoration of wounds without scar tissue? I cant see how he could accomplish that. Scar tissue is a natural result of a wounds normal healing process." Parish says somewhat animated. "But in answer to your first question, I don’t have a practice any more. I have not is quite some time. That is why I think he may want to find someone else. Some one more current, and more practiced than me."

He paused poignantly, trying to avoid the personal topic of their relationship. He had none of his own, and so he felt it wasn’t his place to comment on theirs.

Janet sighs. "Well Kyle doesn't know many people in your field either. I don't know if you already know this but his grandfather died in '77 and he left his family a good deal of money. They've been invested sensibly. Kyle hasn't had a practice for years. Not having to earn money, he's spent most of his time doing research on God knows what, he even asked me to teach him Japanese! But I've no idea what he would need that for."

She pauses briefly.

"I know it shouldn't be possible to heal something without scar tissue - but he's serious..."

She lets the sentence hang, and you get the clear impression that she's worried about her fiancé’s sanity.

"Have you seen evidence of his claim? Has he shared any of his findings or proof with you? Or do you think he is just 'tilting at windmills' as it were?"

Parish thinks to himself: *People have been looking for something like this for decades. They have tried everything from electrical and chemical stimulation, to genetic tampering to introduce regenerative tissue from reptiles. No one has come close.*

"I really don't know what to say. You know what kind of education he has, and he's never been prone to making far-fetched deductions. He did mention something about someone who tried it and it worked, but as it is he hasn't shown me anything. I'm a linguist so I probably wouldn't understand much anyway, I certainly don't understand the notes he left here."

"He left notes? Do you have a fax machine? Do you think he would mind if you emailed or faxed them over to me so that I could take a look? To be honest, this does intrigue me, but I would hate to make the trip out there only to find that he was on a wild goose chase and I had wasted my time. I have a lot to ...occupy... me here."

"I don't think he would mind, no. Which fax number should I send it to? Oh, and before I forget: Kyle did say that since it had been such a long time since last he saw you he, of course, didn't know what kind of economic situation you'd be in. He said I should offer to pay your plane ticket if that would be necessary. Just so it's not something like that holding you back."

"Fax the notes to 415 555-3001. And tell Kyle that I appreciate the offer, but I couldn't accept. While I may not have the means at my disposal that I used to, I much prefer these days to make my own way. Did Kyle discuss with you what he was looking for me to provide? What my role would be?"

"Oh that's okay, just a moment..."

You can hear rustling of papers as Janet writes down the number.

"Hmmm, I'm not sure..." She hesitates. "I think he may want some feedback on what kind of experiments he should make - he's mentioned experiments as if he didn't make them himself. I know enough to know that you need a pretty solid foundation when you publish such things, and I think he simply feels that another researcher involved will help make the presentation more varied... but that's just my guess - he could just as well be at a dead end needing new ideas. In any case: he said to assure you that if you join in this venture you two will of course share the credit - he seems very certain of success. But that's all I know."

"Hrumpf. That is a perfect example of how much I have changed. I dont care any more about credit or being published. I lead a quiet, unassuming life, and I very much like it that way. I dont seek the fame and glory any longer. By offering me that and the money, Kyle is working against himself without even knowing it - giving me more reasons why 'not' to come."

Janet chuckled quietly. "Well you can't blame him for trying. He only wants to make sure you'll come, and so far you're the only one he knows with the necessary expertise in Cosmetic Surgery. I know I won't blame him for wanting to work with someone he's at least remotely familiar with. If you prefer anonymity I'm sure Kyle won't object - he'll understand. He's got all the money he wants, so he won't even make it a patent. He just wants to find out about the possibilities. I hope it hasn't deterred you completely from coming."

"No, it hasnt completely, and you have been great. I apologize for my surly attitude. I guess I am a creature of habit, prone to disliking any disruption of that routine. Let me look over these notes, and check on the availability of flights, and Ill get back to you soon."

"That's a deal. I'll send them immediately." It's obvious to hear that she's very relieved.

"Ill get back to you in the next day or so. You have been very helpful, thank you."

"It was my pleasure. I'll talk to you soon"

"Good night. Ill talk to you again soon."

[Az]

Percy stirs his tea for a bit, the drink being thick with honey and smelling sweetly of sugar. He gets the phonenumber he got for the people in Atlanta, and walks over to the phone. He takes a sip from his drink, and dials the number.
The phone rings many times before it's picked up. A woman's voice is heard.

"Susan Langley speaking"

She sounds somewhat tired.

"Good..."He quickly checks his watch "morning ma'am, you're speaking with Percy O'Sullivan, I'm a photographer. I'm calling about an article I read in Supernatural Magazine, about your son and what he's seen on your vacation?"

"Oh dear..." she sighs "I told them only to refer people to us if it was absolutely necessary... so... is it?"

"Well, I'm not going to die horribly if you turn me down, but I am genuinely interested in what your son might've seen, and I'd like to know what exactly it's all about. Would you mind telling me what happened, if it's not too much of a bother?"

She hesitates. You can practically hear her reluctance to speak of the subject "Just a moment - let me go get a phone in another room."

You hear the click of the phone being put down. A minute or so passes before she picks it up again. The background acoustics have changed somewhat.

"So... what exactly do you need to know?"

"You're a doll. Anyway, I'd like to know what the youngster has actually seen and if there were any other things that might've been a little off at that time."

She snorts at your term of endearment but lets it pass
"Exactly how much Chris did see - we don't quite know. He's a child and his imagination runs wild at times as with every other child I know. But this... this is just... I dunno. We saw it ourselves... though we *have* been doubting our sanity these days." She once more hesitates as if afraid to say more. You hear her take a deep breath as if steeling herself to go on. "We were camping, as you probably know, by a forest quite a ways South-East of here.
It wasn't a camping site or anything, we'd simply found a grass field, asked the farmer who owned it if we could put our camper and tent up there for a week and a half, and gotten his permission to do so. There was no civilization around us for miles. A small town some ways to the North, I think, but nothing more than that.
We had everything we needed and all was fine - just fine."

She sighs deeply.

"Really fine until that evening... Chris was outside playing by himself - we saw no problem with that since there were no big roads nearby. We sat inside the tent having a cup of after-dinner coffee. And then suddenly Chris runs in screaming "Mommy! Mommy! the trees are walking!" He was quite clearly frightened. At first we thought he'd been imagining stuff from Lord of the Rings - but he's normally quite aware of what's real as opposed to what's fiction... he's never been afraid of his own imagination before. But it was dark and we thought he'd probably spotted a tree that looked a little like an ent from the movie..."

Percy smiles at the thought. "It happens yes. So what made you believe him then?"

"He was totally panicked so we figured that the only way to make him calm down was to go find the offending tree and convince him that it was indeed just a tree. So we went outside, and he dragged us along the dirt track at the edge of the forest. Not a long ways really. And then suddenly he stopped, pointing at a spot on the field beside us - not at the woods. 'It was right there' he claimed.
Now, when we looked at that spot, there was no tree at all. Not even a small sapling that his imagination could have enhanced to something bigger - nothing... then we went to look at the spot he'd pointed out. There was a big mark in the soft ground as if something heavy has lain there, but nothing more than that. It could just as well have been a cow. We asked him if he was sure it wasn't just a cow or a horse he'd seen. But he denied it. We gave up our search and turned back towards the road by the edge of the forest.
And there was... some ways into the forest there was something sticking up over the other trees. It was late August so the trees still had all their leaves... except for this one. A few very leafless branches simply stood there - I guess that's why it caught our eyes, and its black silouette against the darkening sky... well it wasn't entirely unnatural - dead trees do exist. But that's when it started moving.
I won't say walking 'cause we couldn't see that. but it was moving - that much I'm sure of. We were standing stock still and those branches were slowly moving off to one side and further away from us..."

"Moving? That IS wierd. I assume that it wasn't the wind then?" If his parents saw it too, it must've indeed been something wierd, Percy thinks to himself.

"There was a slight breeze blowing that evening, but no breeze could have blown a dead tree several 100 feet through a forest."

"Aye, that would take some storm indeed. This all sounds very odd indeed, I'd like to look into it. Would you mind giving the location of said grassland so I can have a look?"

"Not at all. It's a three hour drive outside of Atlanta, the exact place... well... uhhh we drove, found a field that looked nice and well... if I recall correctly the small town to the North was called Possum Hollow, South of the town we just drove until we came to the edge of the forest got onto the dirt track and continued a good ways along it. I can't be much more precise than that I'm afraid."

He quickly notes it down. "That should be enough. Alright, I'll go have a look, it's not like I've anything better to do. Want me to give you a call when I've found something?"

"I... don't know if that's... maybe..." Another sigh "Chris has been having nightmares about this for all of the past month. He wakes up screaming in the middle of the night babbling about bad and evil trees. We've tried talking to him about it, tried to get him to tell us more about what he saw and if that tree thing did anything. But he won't talk about it. If we mention our camping trip he gets that look in his eyes of a deer caught in the headlights, and we ask him about his nightmares he starts crying... You say you're a photographer..."

"Yes, I am."

"If you take a picture that can somehow convince Chris that whatever he saw isn't dangerous..." She trails off.

"I was intending to ma'am. I'll call you as soon as I know what it was then, and we'll see from there, alright?"

"Alright... we will... and thank you. But do be careful, we may want to convince Chris that it wasn't dangerous but that doesn't mean that it isn't. I wouldn't want anyone to get hurt."

"I can take care of myself ma'am, but thanks for caring, I'll let ya know. Talk to ya then!"

"Okay, bye"

Percy hangs up the phone.

"Fascinating, sounds like there's actually something there. I'll have to get to Atlanta then."

He moves over to his computer to see if he can book a flight as soon as possible.

[SonOfMoradin]

As the archaic fax machine finishes its tortured screeching, Montgomery reaches down and collects the papers it spat forth.

Neat handwriting greets him and he quickly looks over the papers. The cover letter reads:

"Dear Mr. Parish

These are the notes I could find. Some of them are very old and written in a hand that is definitely not Kyle's. He inherited some old notebooks from his grandfather, Charkes Bentley, whom he always says a terrible tragedy befell. I suspect it may be him who started the research Kyle has now continued.

Once again thank you for giving us the time of the day

Sincerely

Janet Shin"

The rest of the pages contain an almost random collection of micelaneous papers, notes and research results. Most of the papers written in Kyles' grandfathers hands are mundane - grocery lists, lists of things to do, things like that. The only thing that catches my eye is several bills of sale for.... livestock. They are dated 1971.

"Janet never mentioned Kyles grandfather traded in cattle" Montgomery mused as he moved on to the next page.

The next group gets a little more interesting. They seem to detail a procedure for mixing animal blood with various other chemicals, and descriptions on how to administer the mixture.

"What was the old man up to?" Monty wondered. "It doesnt say here what the mixture is for, what it is to be administered to, and what the expected result of the treatment is! What kind of study or experiment was this?"

The next set are fairly recent, and seem to have been collected by Kyle. The first item is a photocopy of an old news story of the tragic death of two Ohio State professors in a fire in Georgia. The article, dated 1972, says that Charles Bentley, the eccentric inventor of some "miracle wheat" plants survived the fire but was hospitalized for his injuries.

The second item is a clipping from a gossip column dated 1973 that suggests that Charles Bentley, whose "miracle wheat" has now earned him over a million dollars has been institutionalized in Maine for over a year.

"Poor bastard - that fire must have really messed him up."

This is followed by an obituary from 1977 for Charled Bentley. It tastefully fails to mention that he died in an asylum.

This is followed by copies from old notebooks in Japanese and English. "Figures! Finally something pertinent and interesting, and its in a language I dont understand" Montgomery curses. "It almost looks like some kind of a code decipher. Someone trying to decode this Japanese comunique. If they were successful, Janet didnt include the notes. Maybe Kyle has the results."

Montgomery decides before he calls Janet that he should do some investigating, see if he can find out more about Bentley and what he was after. He went over to his computer - the only real modern "appliance" he insisted was kept up to date and in perfect condition. He began a search. Seems Bentley was a fighter pilot in WW2, and was captured by the Japanese in 1944. He was liberated by the Marines about a year later and found Bentley to be the only survivor.

"Hmn... seems he has a knack for that." Montgomery muses.

Wife divorced shorly after he was released in the States, he moved around a lot, went to many schools .. Harvard, Miskatonic U, a couple of other places .. to study Biology, Japanese, Botany, but he never completed his studies, and he never stayed at ome place for very long. He paid for his school by using the G.I. bill money.

After that he developled this "miracle wheat" - early gene splicing to produce a bigger harvest. Made him a millionaire in less than a year. But he never talks about how he figured out how to make the wheat, where he learned gene splicing, etc. Then, after he made it big, he became a recluse, removing himself from the public eye all together. Nothing till the fire, his hospitalization and death.

"Well, I guess that is about it. No solid leads, no real information. Guess Ill call Janet and see what she can tell me."

---Dials phone---

"Hello Janet? This is Montgomery Parish. Is this a good time to be calling?"

"Ah hello, Good to hear from you. I didn't know whether I dared hope you'd contact me again. Time's as good as any. Just got back from the tennis court, so I need to sit down either way."

"Would you like some time to clean up and relax a bit. I dont have to report to work till this afternoon."

"Oh no, I'm not *that* fresh off the court." She laughs "No, now is just fine"

"Very well. I took a look at the papers you sent over, but Im sorry to say I dont think Ill be much help. The notes didnt really clear up much. Have you read them? "

"No I'm afraid I don't know much of what Kyle does. I know next to nothing about Biology, as I study Linguistics and Japanese. I helped him translate some of the Japanese texts but they were in code, and I didn't help him crack it."

"The notes talk about mixing animal blood with various checmicals, and how to administer the mix, but they are incomplete. There is no indication of what the mixture is supposed to do, or even what it is meant for - humans or animals."

"Hmmm well, Kyle left nothing else here, of course he'll have the complete notes at the farmhouse"

"Hmmm well, Kyle left nothing else here, of course he'll have the complete notes at the farmhouse"

"Yes, that was part of the inheritance. Mind you it wasn't much more than a sooty ruin when it was handed over to Kyle, but he's rebuilt enough of it to make it habitable."

"Was there any indication of a lab or work area when Kyle recieved it? Part of the records show that Kyles grandfather had cattle delivered to him, yet nothing indicated he ran the farm as a farm."

"Cattle? Not that I know of." She sounds genuinely puzzled. "Kyle says that the farmhouse was indeed his grandfather's lab, and he liked the location and the peace down by the forest lake, so he decided to make it his lab as well. As I said it was a ruin, everythign was burnt, I really don't think there can have been much left aside from the bare stones."

"Well, Im not sure how to proceed here, other than to visit the farm, but Im affraid this is a rather pitiful lead to warrant me flying all the way out there. Have you spoken to Kyle recently?"

"Yes, in fact I have, and he was very excited. He spoke of being close to some kind of breakthrough, but as usual even his simple explanations made little sense to me. He mentioned something about plant and animal gene similarities, I think he even mentioned crossing some species, but I'm sure I got half of it wrong." She sighs "I'm planning to go visit him next weekend, if we arrange our flights so we're in Atlanta at the same time we can travel together the rest of the way." She hesitates a moment. " I realise it isn't much incentive for you to come, but Kyle assures me that the locale is very beautiful, so if you glean nothing scientifically from this at least a holiday in nice surroundings isn't too bad, no?"

"Im ... not one for vacations really. Im affraid I have little appreciation for beautiful countrysides right now. I still dont know what I can contribute to the project, or even what the project really is, but I also cant really come up with a good reason not to go. I am a bit intrigued with the mystery of the whole thing.

Next weekend will be good. That will give me some time to get ahead of my work, so that I can take a few days off. Ill try to book a flight to atlanta, and Ill get back to you once that is done."

"I'm quite intrigued myself, but unlike me you actually have a chance at understanding what Kyle's up to." She sounds very relieved at hearing your consent to go to Atlanta, and her words merely serve to underline that. "You have no idea how glad I am that you'll come - I don't like how Kyle is alone about this all the time, it can't possibly be healthy. Some input from elsewhere will do him and his experiments good I'm sure."

"Most of my input since ... my experience ... has been far from good, but I will help where I can. I hope he and you dont expect too much, I am a far different person than Kyle knew in school."

"I'm not sure what Kyle expects, but regardless you've had much patience with us - me - already and for that I'm grateful."

"Ill see you in Atlanta on friday then. I had better go, I suddenly have lots to do, and not much time to do it in."

After hanging up the phone, Montgomery books a friday flight to Atlanta, and heads into the mortuary to work. He is bothered all day by the odd collection of notes and papers, feeling he has missed something, but he is not sure what........

[Veshannatax]

Burke Mattens

It had been only about a week that he'd restarted his job driving for NYC Taxis, but it was already clear people on the street were not too happy he was out and about again. Two of his passengers had openly threatened him, and co-workers by radio had been kind enough to pass along word of his apparant notoriety. And this had just been the late afternoon. Seeing as he worked his shifts from afternoon to late nights, Burke Mattens decided it was time to contemplate all of this over his breaktime and some food.

He was annoyed as he drove the cab to his place of choice. Ghosts from the past weren't enough to haunt him, turns out someone's turned the ouija board on him, and hated him even now. Driving the car to 74th street, Jackson Diner, the taxilight off, the big man considered not only an all-you-can-eat menu, but his options. Getting out of confinement less than two months ago, he'd managed to take up a new job as a driver, the same kind of bad housing, and pretty much his old life. Except he now had a weight added to his conscience, a rap to his sheet and apparantly, enemies to the list. Pulling over at 3747, the diner, he switched off the engine and leaned on the wheel. Looking sideways to the glove compartiment, he wondered if he should take it with him...

Moments later, he stepped out of the car without it, closing the door with a thud. He didn't want to become prisoner to fear. He'd make do. He always had...

Inside eating his dinner, nothing seems off, but with one of the several glances he cast outside at his car Burke noticed a man of slight build stand next to the cab. He's decently clad and doesn't look like he's short on finances, but nonetheless he's interested in a completely normal cab. If he's trying to be inconspicuous he's making a lousy job of it as it's quite obvious he seems to be scouting for the driver of said car. Apparently the street lights' reflections in the windows makes it impossible for him to see into Jackson's, and Burke was free to observe him. The fidgets quite a bit, but doesn't seem to be about to bolt - yet. Something about him seemed oddly familiar. Thinking back, Burke remembered the face from the days even longer back, fighting for money in a locked steel cage...

Burke was immediatly triggered with suspicion. The nagging memory, vague as it was, placed this man in his past's past, back when he fought for his money. He'd broken with nearly everything from that past, except for the friend who'd gotten him his weapon. For this man to be studying his normally normal cab, was almost too much of a coincidence. Burke studied the man intently, trying to find anything that would define him more clearly in his head.

While he doesn't recall having ever spoken to the man, his face is most definatly familiar. After a while of wracking his brain it strikes Burke that that's because he was among the regular audience for the cage-fights, as memories come back he also recalled that he was considerably better off than most others there. Most likely he was one of those rich kids who got a kick out of defying their parents and go to something illegal - like for instance cage-fights. Why he'd be here, on the lookout for him, he can't figure out.

Burke frowned after recognising the man. Having been openly threatened at least twice today, he didn't feel he could take chances. Having paid ahead for his all-you-can-eat, he decided he couldn't eat more, and had to know if this had to do. He almost regretted not bringing the Taurus, but then he considered it might spiral him into a maelstrom of violence, from which he might not get back this time. Leaving his table with a nod to the waiter, he got his leather jacket off the rack and left the diner, trying not to attract the strange visitor's attention as he did so.

Luckily, the man looked down the street just as Burke exited. Wasting no time to give the stranger an opportunity to look back his way, Burke approached him with a few long strides, and speaks up.

"Something I can help you with?"

The man gasped, obviously startled.

"I... uhh...err...I need to talk to you, if you're interested in a job, that is."

Burke can't resist raising an eyebrow before responding.

"See that taxi? That is my job, so unless you need to go somewhere, I'm not sure what we have to talk about."

The man's eyes flit back and forth to the car and up and down the street. His nervousness is clear, but he takes a deep breath and speaks again, though his voice is now somewhat more steady he's definitely not calm.

"Look, I know I'm not the only one looking for you. Everyone knows they're out to get you. I need someone for a job that may or may not get rough, and I was told that since you're in trouble you might be inclined to take the job."

Burke considered these words a moment, then sighed.

"Let's talk in the car."

He stepped past the man and opened the car, getting into the driver's seat. The man seems almost relieved at the suggestion. When he gets in the car he sighs and turns to you.

"My name's Stephen. Stephen Green. I know you're Burke The Bull, I remember you from back then, though I doubt you'd know me... can we...go someplace? Anywhere? I don't want whoever's looking for you on my back as well."

He looks nervously out the window, even though he does seem to have relaxed somewhat.

Burke starts the taxi and pulls onto the street. He starts driving with no particular goal except trying to keep to streets that aren't clogged up.

"You're right, I don't know you, though I recall having seen you before. It sounds like you know more about me, and whoever wants my hide than I do... I'm pretty sure you'll know I just got out of prison, so you'll forgive me if I'm not too informed at the moment..."

The man seems a mite surpised initially but after a moment of quick reflection he nods.

"Yes...err I suppose you wouldn't be quite uptodate. I'm not sure I got everything right about your pursuers, but something about someone's brother being very unhappy with something you did - I think he mentioned the name Leon, but I'm not certain. I didn't ask. I'm here on behalf of a friend of mine, who needs the help of someone like you. She's willing to pay handsomely, and she knows I used to come in the cage-fighting environment so she asked me if I knew someone who might be willing to help. I contacted a few of my old connections - among them the bookmaker Nichols - and asked if he knew someone who would take a job where violence may come in handy. He said you might be in need of getting out of town.."

"Hmm, Nichols, I remember him... Talked to him once after gettting out even, unlike most people from that scene. I do know I'm no longer welcome in most parts of this town, but if I leave, where will I go. I'm a cab driver, and that's what I'm good at. But any other company might be less friendly towards someone of my particular... history..."

"Well, I don't know much about these things... but perhaps you just need to disappear for a while - till things settle down a bit, you know."

Turning along a right corner with the cab, Burke took the sideways movement to look the man in the face. "That may very well be. So tell me more about what you have in mind. A friend of yours needed something? Because I'm not getting away from trouble just to land in more trouble, mind you..."

"My friend, Janet, is going to Georgia to visit her fiancée. That in itself is not weird, but as of today she hasn't heard from him in 4 days, which is odd considering he always calls her at least every other day, mostly even every day. She's afraid something might have happened to him - and subsequently what she might find when she goes there. So she wants someone with her as... a bodyguard, if you will..."

[Veshannatax]

Burke can't surpress a chuckle.

"And naturally you thought of a convicted felon to help you friend. Do me a favour and open that glove compartment."

"Uhhhh, well you see, I didn't as such think of you, it was mostly Nichols who suggested you."

He reaches for the glove compartment while speaking.

"I figured he was likely right in saying that if you didn't plan on staying on the right side of the law from now on you wouldn't be working as a cab dri... oh my..."

His voice trails off as his gaze fixes on content he really hadn't expected to see. Burke would've been pleased at getting an expected reaction, if it hadn't been for the negative emotions tied to the Raging Bull in the glove compartment. Now, he just continued speaking.

"Back when I quit being a cage fighter, I did everything I could to be on the right side of the law. But bad luck netted me with a suitcase full of heroin in my cab. This Leòne you’ve heard of came to get it, beat me half to death, tore up my house and car. That gun belonged to him. That gun killed him.”

Burke pulled the car over to the side of the road and stopped, looking Stephen in the eyes.

“For this, I turned myself in and was sentenced to manslaughter in self-defence. Six years including good behaviour got me out. Personally, I’d like to get my life back to how it was. I’ve done my time for taking Leòne and his cronies off selling drugs to children. I don’t see myself as saint or sinner. I just want a normal life. That’s the person you’re intending for this. That I want you to know."

"Err, right, well I suppose that's... uhh, yeah."

Nichols quite clearly hadn't told him this part of the story of your absence. He attempts to compose himself, but manages only partly.

"Well, I assure you, Janet has no intentions of stepping outside the boundaries of the law, she just wants to feel safe, if nothing is wrong in Georgia you get a paid vacation plus any salary you'd charge, some time out of town, and no further obligations. If there *is* trouble to be found in Georgia, you'll get extra pay. I'm sure Janet'll fill you in on the details if you agree to the job - she hasn't told me enough for me to make much sense of it, I'm afraid."

Burke is silent a moment. Then, he reaches into the glove compartment, behind the hand-cannon, and takes out a pack of cigarettes.

“Man, I need a smoke. Do you want one?”

Stephen visibly tenses when Burke seemingly reaches for the gun. At the question he doesn't relax much but laughs nervously and reaches for a cigarette.

"Yes... yes... thank you. That would be nice."

Burke takes out two cigs, lights one for himself with his zippo lighter, then lights Stephen’s.

“There’s really no future for me here, not now. Maybe I’ll come back here one day, when the dust has settled, but New Yorkers hold long grudges, apparantly... So let’s say I take this job...”

For the first time during the conversation Stephen suddenly doesn't seem nervous anymore.

"Janet is a very dear friend of mine. I know her well enough to know that if she's nervous about something it's with good reason. She's very down to earth about everything, and if she thinks something is wrong - it likely is. Hence I've every reason to believe you will run into trouble there - she may say to me and probably to you as well that it might just be nothing - but knowing her, she won't let minor things get her all out of sorts. If you do run into trouble and you keep her safe you'll always have a safe house out at Killengreen."

Suddenly it strikes you that this man wasn't just a random rich kid, now connecting the name Stephen Green with the estate Killengreen, you realise that the man in your car is from the jetset of New York - one of those people the gossip columns would love to hear about. Yet you don't recall having ever heard any major media scandals conected to the name of Stephen Green.

Burke takes a long tug from his cigarrete, then opened the window and threw it out, exhaling as he did so. This he used to mask his surprise at recognising the name to the person of Stephen Green. Then, he turned back to the man.

“I will do what I can to keep your friend safe. I think I speak for both of us when I say I hope I’m not needed.Tell me when I leave so I can pack what things I have... And... I can’t exactly take my cab with me there, since my company will complain...”

Stephen looks slightly apologetic.

"You leave tomorrow with Janet on a plane to Atlanta. She'll rent a car there and there's a 3 hour drive to the place where you're going, she told me. I know it's short notice, but..."

He sighs.

"You take care of whatever you need, I'll make sure a car will pick you up tomorrow around noon if you give me a time and place."

Burke nodded gravely.

“Short notice indeed, but there’s not really much for me here to take care of. Just saying goodbye to an old friend. One problem on flying there: That will make it exceedingly difficult to bring my metal friend along, him and his big brother...”

"I'll fix that. I'm not entirely unaccustomed to bodyguards, nor are the Airport Security unaccustomed to special shipments. Exactly what kind of weapons are we speaking of? Just so I can have the paperwork ready by tomorrow."

Burke pointed at the gun in the open glove compartment.

“That is a Taurus Raging Bull, 8” model. Follow me if you will...”

He got out of the car and walked to the trunk. Opening it, he removed a thick cloth that was over something in the back. As he pointed to the slick black weapon, just over one meter in length, he spoke, sounding almost proud.

“That is a Franchi SPAS-12 fully automatic combat shotgun. This one will likely prove the toughest. I have a license for both, thanks to the friend I got the shotgun from...”

"Oh that's good - I won't need to get you a license then. With that, it should be easy enough, really."

Stephen pauses for a moment - Burke guessed that he was memorising the data he needed to know.

"So where can I pick you up tomorrow around noon?"

“I live at 357th street, 3035. I’ll be standing outside at noon.”

"Great. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Stephen reaches out a hand to seal the agreement - for the first time a small but seemingly genuine smile reaches his eyes.

"I'm glad you'll do this, I don't know how many people would be suited for this job, but you definitely seem like the type to be able to handle things."

Burke takes Stephen’s hand and shakes it.

“Can I drop you off somewhere? I’m still a cab driver until tomorrow...”

"How about City Hall - I have some paperwork to do."

He answers with a grin. Burke nods, and puts the Spas back in the trunk. Getting back behind the wheel, he drives to City Hall to drop off Stephen.

Tomorrow would be a new start. For better or for worse. But then, how could things get worse?

[Taika of Narfell]

That very same Thursday, 25th of September, was the earliest flight Percy could find.

Arriving in the afternoon at Atlanta Airport it was easy to find a rental car, and soon the trip took him across open fields. The description of the route Susan had given him was easy to follow, so the majority of the trip could be spent with enjoying the scenery.

3 hours later it was slowly growing dark as he reached the small town of Possum Hollow. The great sign at the city limit announced the number of inhabitants to be 1,842. Not a big place in other words, what commerce there were was situated along this main road and boasted a General Store and a Motel. The police station seemed to be on the ground floor of a completely normal house - also along the main road, and as Percy drove past he could see one officer leaving the station looking much like he was on his way home.

The Motel wasn't much further along the road. It looked decent enough - not as sleazy as one might oft times expect from a place like this. Reasonably clean and well-kept - not a 5-star hotel, mind you - but a place where you wouldn't be worried about too much seedy clientel.

[Az]

Percy's flight went well, and he arrived just on time. He rented a car, and drove towards the small town of Possum Hollow. He rented a motelroom, and turned in for the night, as it was already rather late. The following morning he drove towards the place Mrs Langley had pointed out to him.

It's actually fairly easy to find the location Susan had described. South out of Possum Hollow along Mesley Road, and about 12-15 miles along Percy reaches the edge of a big forest, a small dirt road running between the forest and the fields on the right hand side of the road. He gathers it's a short ways in that dirt road the Langley's camped those weeks ago. As such, he drives a bit down the road, and after about 70 yards he sees a clearing shielded by the forest which could easily hold up to three campers. It seems quite likely that this is the campsite they were at.

He gets out of his car, takes his camera and looks around the scene a bit. As mrs Langley told him about the shape of a cow or a horse on the ground, where the trees apparently moved, he checks for that.

With the dry ground covered in needles from the pines it's hard to see any tracks at all, but deeper into the forest he spots a slightly darker hollow in the ground. As Percy nears it he can see why it's darker, the leaf cover above isn't as dense here so the ground is somewhat more moist. In this moist patch he can see part of a print like the ones Susan described. He can only see what he assumes is the front part of it, namely the split front of a cloven hoof. Seeing as it's a rather obvious print, he takes a picture of it.
He does find it odd that the hoof is rather large. Simple logic and mathematics points out that whatever made a hoof print like this must have weighed at least 2 tonnes, and though he's never been to Georgia before, he's pretty sure the cows around here don't have hooves 2½ feet wide. Though it is somewhat disturbing he's not curently working for SuperNatural Magazine for nothing. Hed had expected general oddness, and he found it.

Percy looks around a bit, hoping to spot more tracks. He notices a slight impression in the ground 2 yards further ahead. It wouldn't have been conspicuous since ground is hardly ever completely horizontal, yet considering what he's just found, he is positive that this is a matching foot print - though there isn't much print to it. A path of broken twigs and and footprints lead deeper into the forest. Seeing a picture of a hoofprint somewhere out in the wild isn't really priving anything, Percy moves on along the trail, hoping to find something more conclusive.

Going into a south-western direction, he follows the track for about 300 yards at which point this track seems to be joined by another coming from a more straight Northern direction. After taking pictures of the dual track, he follows the 'dual' track for approx 50 more yards after which the ground gets too hard for any imprints to be seen. Percy turns around, following the new track back to it's source. After a while, he loses track of that as well, but he gathers he's heading back into the direction of his car, only at a more western angle.

Not to be dissuaded from his goal, he heads back to the hardground area, and looks around for more tracks. He manages to find a few tracks leading further in a South-Westerly direction, but the track is hard to follow and other than the initial direction he can't find anything else. However, he figures the thing must've been large, so he checks the trees for broken branches or any other sign of something passing. Here and there he notices something on the broken branches. It could be passed off as soggy leaves, but as he looks more closely it seems to be some kind of greenish goo.

"Now I wonder what this would be..." Percy thinks to himself. Seeing as he'd like to study it in a more comfortable place, he takes a few zoomed in pics from various angles and then checks his pockets for anything bag-like. Fortunately, he has a leftover bag from his lunch in his jacket. He attempts to place the bag over the branch, but as he gets close, an immense stench fills his nostrils, like an open grave. It is so heavy, his gag reflexes kick in and a few moments later his breakfast is deposited on the forest ground. He turns to face it again, holds his breath and tries to get close, but even then the stench is too much to bear.

Percy considers his dilemma a bit, then thinks of something. He places the bag on the ground, and snaps the branch off the tree, keeping his face turned away from the goo. However, the odd angle makes the branch suddenly whip around and throw Percy onto a pile of leaves. The branch has broken off too, and has swung away, messing up any goo on it in the process. Percy swears for a while, while he gets up, then looks around to see if there's any more n the brances. After a bit of searching, he finds another branch, at a better angle. This time, he's got no problem snapping it off and prodding it into the bag. Still trying to stay away from it, he closes the bag by putting his foot on it, then letting his hands take over while he slowly slides the foot off.

Pleased with his brilliant plan, he ties a knot in the bag and puts it in his jacket. He looks around the area some more, trying to find a new trail, this time of goo and not of prints, but finds nothing. He checks if his photo's turned out ok, which they have, then returns to his car. It's about 1pm now, and lunch is needed.