The Glitch V: Taste of Fear (Episode 1)

[Charon]

"...and a storm front is expected to strike Old Town later this afternoon. So bring your umbrellas. That's the weather, back to you April."


"Thanks for the weather Lakitu. This morning residents in Old Town were rocked by the discovery of another victim of the serial killer known as the Cannibal. This is the fifth victim in three months. The Victim has only been identified as an Asari Maiden. When questioned, the Asari Embassy in Crystal City had no comment. Police Chief Bester released a statement concerning the investigation earlier today.

'The Crystal City Police Department is continuing our ongoing investigation for the identity and where-abouts of the serial killer known as the Cannibal. We have no new information to release at this time, but urge all residents of the Megatropolis and Suburb Districts to remain calm, as the killer has only struck in Old Town. We have no reason to believe he will strike elsewhere. We urge all citizens of Old Town, to remain calm...we are diverting all available resources and assets to locate this fiend. That will be all."

"There we have it folks, Police Chief Bester assuring everyone to remain calm, that the Police have this well in hand..."

Matt slowly shook his head. "Dumb fucks. They plan to let it sit in Old Town and let it take care of this old heap for them. They don't think the damn thing will actually stay in Old Town." He paused, scratching his gray stubbled chin. "No, Al isn't that stupid. He'd know this thing isn't gonna just sit in Old Town. It's gonna get big, and it's gonna get scary, and then it's gonna move into one of the ritzy places once it's too big to stop." Matt laughed bitterly and got to his feet, leaving the TV on as he went to cook lunch. He'd actually become a pretty good cook in all these quiet years.

[Dark Silver]

The man had taken a seat in a corner booth, his frame settled on the bench easily, as he looked over the menu brought over by a lovely looking Hylian waitress.

"My my, so many questions so soon.." he spoke, his voice was dulcet in tone, "Calm yourself my friend, order yourself something to eat....the lonlon medallions in deku-nut sauce is especially...succulent."

The waitress returned a few minutes later, with two glasses of water, and two steaming cups of coffee, a small silver pitcher of cream, and sweetener.

"Thank you Nisala," the man spoke, watching the Death Knight as he prepared his own coffee, two spoons of sugar, and a splash of cream.

"If you insist on interrupting a nice quiet breakfast with these questions, we simply won't be able to enjoy it," the man said, "Suffice it to say, that my interest in you is strictly professional, and entirely benevolent. You are here without resources, but a goal. It so happens, I to have a goal, and many resources but nearly all lack the touch I require for this instance."

The man took measure sip of his coffee, decided he enjoyed it, and placed the cup back on it's saucer.

"It just so happens our goals coincide in this instance Malkamar. I heard stories of what the Knights of the Ebon Blade did on Azeroth, against Arthas and his Scourge. Needless to say, having one of your kind working alone, doing what it is your people do....could be disruptive to the daily affairs of this fair town."

The man smiled, a flash of pearly white teeth with the gesture, "Don't let the appearance fool you, Old Town may have seen better days, but it's not dead yet. Despite the criminal families and the low lifes which prowl the back alleys, trying to carve this place up like some cake for their own little fiefdoms, Old Town continues on, because it has a strong leadership. The Bosses are kept contained, the low life scum tended to as needed....and the average person gets to go about their business, goto work, have a life...a family, happiness. It may not be the best life, compared to the Megatropolis or in Stormwind...but it's good for those who want to work for it."

The waitress walked over, and the man in black ordered a roc egg omlette, motioning for her to take Malkamar's order as he continued talking, "This Cannibal? This animal shows up in Old Town three months ago, and has been causing nothing but trouble ever since. He goes around killing people for no reason, ripping them apart, striking fear into the hearts and minds. It's almost as bad as that Cult down in the slums - just more wide spread. No, this animal, whoever or whatever he is, needs to be put down. And the cops aren't doing a damn thing beyond lip service in trying to find him."

The man sat back in the booth, his ice blue eyes looking into the glowing blue Death Knight's own, his right hand, covered in black leather, rested on the table, starting to glow with the symbol of three golden triangles which formed a larger triangle - the top glowing red, the lower right glowing blue the lower left only gleamed with a "reflected" light. The glow wasn't immense, just enough to bring attention to it with the creak of the leather. "It's time for the old ways to come back. They thought the days of the Hero were passed, that the police would handle things here, that the Old Ways were gone. Well, I'm here telling you they need to be brought back. No Cop is going to give a shit about what happens in Old Town my friend, we need Heroes. Unfortunatly, Old Town never had heroes of it's own...or villains either. Unlike the current Nations, Old Town wasn't born of the remnants of dead Worlds. Old Town used to be the heart of the Crystal City - but stood alone."

The man's hands made a steeple infront of his face as he leaned forward, elbows perched upon the tables edge, "That is where you come in. You want to find the Cannibal? Well so do I....if I'm going to see this city back to it's former glory, I need Heroes to step up to defend it. You work with me...and you get to do that...I'll help you find the Cannibal, and put a end to him."

The man's grin became almost predatory, "All you gotta do...is think it over, and I'm sure you'll see the Wisdom in working for someone with resources....."

[frigidmagi]

He had not set more than a foot in Old Town's borders, when the car drove it. It was a black sedan, cut in the classic lines that would have fit in a century ago on Earth, during the 1940's - low slung on the road, full of curves that would have made a antique car-nut insane with lust and envy. The car stopped less than twenty feet from him, and the doors opened. From it stepped a well dressed man in what would be called Modern in the Megatropolis of Crystal City, but in Old Town, with the car and the building styling, looked like an anarchism. He was human looking at least, with fair hair, his flesh and dusky brown and round lensed sunglasses were perched on his nose.

He stepped forward, a slight smile on his lips, as he made a bow, "Mr Ackers, it is a pleasure to meet you. I known as The Guide, a mutual friend of ours has requested the pleasure of your audience. He regrets he cannot come to pick you up personally, but other matters require his attendance at current, and I am to see to you're comfort and timely arrival."

The Guide's lips curled in a friendly smile, which were offset by the appearence of his teeth - if Jeremy looked close enough - they were serrated, a mouth full of fine, gleaming points. The juxaposition of such a friendly and ammicable manner and act coming from a figure with such imposing mouthware, could easly have been lost on Jeremy.

"And if you are hesitant to believe my good will, and our Mutual Friends...he told me to tell you 'She is close'. He assured me you would understand."

The car was a piece with the town. So was the... man? It was all decidedly weird and... Off. Something wasn't right. He could smell it, the not so old cop instincts were screaming out. It was as if the devil himself had sent out his most amiable torturer to drive him to a deal.

That wasn't gonna stop Jeremy from taking the deal if he got Mary back alive and whole. Besides Jeremy thought has he bared his teeth in a stark and harsh smile, deals can be renegotiated and no mouth of freaky teeth was gonna make him walk off, he could take this bit of nutcase no joke. Wouldn't even need his pistol for that fight.

She's close. He was gonna get closer.

"By means, Mister?" Jeremy said as he moved into the car.

[SirNitram]

"This place does need a chance... But let's see. I know nothing of you, save you've claimed one of those Triangles that Hyrule banks so heavily on. Nothing but that you have that and have a bistro, and know how to find out about people."

Leaning in as he dines, The Light Of Dawn mused. "Yet, it is a tempting offer. I have no place in this word, but my power sustains me.. For now. And I have power to spare." A smile. "Fine. For now, we work together. Of course.. I have my own breeds of power. So we have an understanding. You need a Hero? You play by the Hero's rules.. Otherwise he's just a powerful mercenary."

As he finished sipping his tea, he smiled. "If that is agreeable.. We shall ally on this."

[Dark Silver]

The man in black smirked, leaning back in his seat, eyes gleaming for a moment. How little the Death Knight suspected. A "triangle and a bistro" indeed. The smirk settled into an amicable smile, "Oh, I don't own this quaint little place, just happened to be one of my favorite plaes for breakfast in Old Town, I thought you might enjoy it also while we talked."

The man in black took another drink of his coffee, savored the taste again, and kept his gaze on the Death Knight, "I'm afraid the job will call for more than one Hero. A Quest of this sort, I'm afraid can't be done alone. And I won't be able to accompany you upon. I'm merely the interested party who is acting as a facilitator, of sorts. I have no interest in helping you go against the 'Heroes Code'. Simply work with the other Heroes I am gathering, and complete your quest. I won't interfere, and only ask you keep me appraised of your situation every so often."

Another long slow sip of his coffee let his words settle for the Death Knight, "I trust, my friend, that these terms will suit you, yes? If so, let's enjoy our breakfast. The second member of the team will have to be met shortly."

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

The man held the car door open for Jeremy, and climbed in behind the man, sitting in the plush leather seat. The interior of the sedan was filled with creature comfort, drinks were set, as well as snacks for the newly Ascended. The car began to move no sooner than the door had closed, and the passengers were settled.

"Our Mutual Friend thought you might be hungry after your....trip, and thus I made sure to have a small selection for you. I'm sure you'll desire a chance to freshen up and have a substantial meal, prior to going see him. He asks me to assure you that all this is with no strings attached, aside that you meet with him and hear his offer."

[General Havoc]

Nobody paid Gregory the slightest notice, which frankly was just fine by him, especially in this place. It was bad enough having to go everywhere in one kind of outlandish military uniform or another, but the brace on his left leg didn't help matters when it came to staying under the radar. Not that he always objected. In the Megatropolis, being recognizable was actually a good thing, and of course he fit right in on the Citadel, which carried so much brass he was surprised it didn't collapse. But down here, he didn't want anyone getting the idea that he might be carrying cash, especially not if they also took the inference from his brace that he might be easy to knock over.

"Well, you don't look much like you're from around here,"

Gregory froze like a deer in headlights, but only for the moment it took for his brain to register that he knew that voice. He turned around, limping slightly as he did so. Behind him stood a large man, arms crossed and expression casual, dressed in worn travel gear that looked like it had seen many light years, and slung with a sidearm and a bandoleer of what looked like HE grenades. Despite the firepower, Gregory's expression went in moments from apprehension to surprise to wonder and back to apprehension, for he recognized not merely the voice but the face, having seen it a hundred times both before his ascension and after it.

Despite his best efforts, presented with one of his pre-ascension idols, Gregory reverted to a tongue-tied idiot.

"Y... you're..."

The man broke into a broad grin. "I'm Jim Raynor," he said. "And I'm guessing you'd be Gregory Colwell?"

The laconic greeting unknotted Gregory's insides somewhat, and he managed to stammer an affirmative. "That's... yes..." he said. "That's me."

Raynor nodded and gestured at the book in Gregory's hands, a weathered, hardcover copy of Arzalam Durai's "Raynor's Raiders", Volume 2. "I've read that one. It's more than half lies," he said.

"I know," said Gregory quickly, "but it's got every major battle you were ever in."

"You're an ascended, right?" asked the Marshal. "They told me you'd... what's it called... 'played' them all anyway?"

"I did," said Gregory, "but I wanted to see if anyone else had found a better way than I did."

"You won those fights, when you were 'playing' them?"

"Yes."

"So then what would you call a 'better way?'"

"No casualties."

Gregory saw Jim Raynor pause for a moment, saw his eyes focus, as though he was reading the results of an X-ray scanner. "And did you find your better way?" he asked.

Gregory chanced a soft smile. "Still looking," he said.

The Marshal's face broke into a grin, and slowly, he extended his hand. "Good answer," he said, and gestured towards what appeared to be a local bar. "Come on, if you're gonna come all this way out to talk to a broken-down old marshal, we might as well see what you have to say for yourself..."

*--------------------------------------------------------*

"Reading a transcript won't give you half the idea," said Raynor, shaking his head as he studied the lees of his beer. "Duke was the sleaziest sonofabitch I've ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on."

Gregory said nothing. He had a ginger ale in front of him, but it was nearly untouched, as he waited for Raynor to finish his thought. The bartender ignored them, and the place was otherwise mostly deserted. Frankly, Gregory was surprised they'd even let him in here, but then he was in the company of a Marshal.

"I don't just mean he lied, though he did," said Raynor, "there was an arrogance to the man. If he'd hated me that'd be one thing, but he just didn't give a damn. As long as he won and got to keep his precious medals, he'd sell out his own grandmother. But it's not even that. Duke's men trusted him, and he sold them down the river, sacrificed them by the tens of thousands just to buy himself out of a jam, or make a little money."

Raynor fell silent for a few moments, and Gregory ventured a question. "But Kerrigan killed Duke," he said. "And you..."

"I did what I had to to because of what Kerrigan had become," said Raynor. "Because of Fenix and Tassadar, and all the other good men and protoss who died because of her. But not for Duke. As far as I'm concerned, Duke deserved it. All those damn Generals and Admirals deserved it.

Resplendent in his Admiral's uniform (Prussian, this time), Gregory's next question died on his tongue, and he lowered his head. Raynor however seemed to notice his discomfiture, and turned to him with a sly grin, giving him a light pat on the shoulder.

"Hey," said the Marshal, "it's not like you were there."

Gregory shrugged. "No," he said, "but... I'm a - "

"A commander," said Raynor, finishing his sentence for him, "or at least you're fixing to be one, right?"

Gregory nodded.

"You see, that's not even close to the same thing," said Raynor. "A General's just a puffed-out soldier with medals on his chest. An Admiral's the same, 'cept he thinks he's better than a General. But a commander," Raynor finished off his beer with one swig. "You can't bullshit your way into that job, whatever they choose to call you. Marshal, General, Lieutenant, Captain, Sergeant, they're just ranks, titles. Any soldier can spot a real Commander a million miles away, and they're not made of brass."

"Like you?"

Raynor chuckled. "Maybe. I did what I thought was the right thing. Didn't have any training. Biggest rank I ever held was a Sherrif's. But I knew how to treat men like men, not like chalk marks on a board. Knew how to pretend to know everything even when I didn't have a clue. Sometimes it was enough. Sometimes it wasn't."

Gregory nodded but didn't answer, and a moment or two later, Raynor turned back to him.

"You get into a fight, what are you looking to do?"

Gregory laughed. "I try not to get into too many fights," he said, tapping the brace on his leg against the metal frame of the bar stool.

Raynor smiled. "You know what I mean."

He shrugged. "Depends on the fight," he said, "but... I mean... win."

"And do you win?"

Gregory thought about what answer to give, but finally opted on the truth, unvarnished. "Yeah," he said. "I do."

"You ever lose?"

"Of course."

Raynor raised his eyebrows. "You ever lose when it matters?"

Again, Gregory hesitated, but again, he opted for what he thought was the most honest answer he could give.

"No," he said. "I don't."

"Why not?" asked the Marshal.

"Because I'm better than the others," said Gregory.

Raynor seemed to take this in stride. "Guy gets killed in one of your fights, is he any less dead?"

Gregory lowered his head. "No."

"So then what makes you any better than them?"

He had no answer, or at least none that he cared to give, and sat quietly, staring at the floor, before Raynor reached over and patted him on the shoulder.

"Look son," said the Marshal, "they showed me what you can do. That... what do you call it?"

"My clairvoyance?"

"Yeah," said Raynor. "I've never seen anything like it. My guess is that neither have the brass?"

"They said it's some new kind of Archetype."

"That's brass-talk for 'we don't have a clue'. But whatever it is, you do good by it. They showed me a few of your test runs, and you're right, you're better than most I've seen. Probably better than I was. But skill means nothing long-term to the guy on the ground. There's always gonna be someone better than you, and even if there isn't, this isn't a game. They don't have to fight you fair, and most of them won't. They'll come at you with fights you just can't win, or can't win without getting messy. And when you do, people, real people die. Under your watch. You ready to face that?"

Gregory shrugged. "I don't know," he said.

Raynor smirked. "Well that's a good start," he said. "Look, kid, I'm not trying to scare you into backing out of this. Something up there has you fixed for command, and you've got more of the book smarts on it than I ever did, and plenty of raw skill. And for all those useless Generals out there, a really good Commander's worth fifty times his own weight in gold. Any soldier'll tell you that." The Marshall brushed a fly off of Gregory's epaulets. "There's even a few who managed to make General or... whatever... despite it."

"So then... what makes a good Commander?"

"Well to start with you need to win, but more than that, you need to know knows why you need to win, and why your men need to win. A good Commander is one that knows that a win where half your men come back dead is no win at all, even if you have another army where this one came from. Soldiers can smell bullshit a mile away, and even if you don't talk about it, they know that the Commander's not the one on the lines getting shot at. You're sitting back in a post or a bunker or a command vessel somewhere and telling them to do things that might get them killed, and if you're wrong, you might lose points, but they die. That's just how it is. Don't apologize for it. Don't pretend you wish it wasn't that way. But never forget it either. Do the best by them that you can do. Make 'em believe that you know how to get them through the fight alive, or if not, that you're gonna make sure they die for the right things, and they won't resent you for it. In fact, you do it right, and they'll go marching into Hell as long as you're giving them the orders, and they won't care if you've never fired a shot in your life."

Gregory sat and watched Raynor in silence as the Marshal slid a credit chit across the bar to the bartender, and lit a cigarette. He puffed on it for a moment, before summing up. "Treat your men like men, or whatever they happen to be, and make sure they win, not just you, and if you're as good at this as you say you are, the rest will take care of itself."

Slowly, Raynor got up from the bar, and waited while Gregory did the same, steadying himself on the stool. "I got a question for you, kid," he asked.

"What's that?"

"They say that you Ascended come in with whatever powers that you want, deep down. So why this? Kid your age, why do you want to be an officer?"

"I don't want to be an officer," said Gregory. "I mean... I guess I do, but... not a specific one. I just want to command."

"Fine, but why? Kid your age ought to want to be a Marine or a Zealot or... hell one of those psychic monks with the laser swords, what do you call those..."

"Jedi?"

"That's them. Not too many kids want to study more. So what is it, really? You just want to give orders? Have people do what you say? And don't worry about it if it's that. Nobody gets into this sort of thing because they 'want to help the little guy'. You gotta have an ego if you want to do good."

Gregory took a bit to think about it before responding.

"I'm... good at this," he said. "I know I've never done it for real and that it's all been games and tests before, and... I know that it's different once it's real people dying, but I'm... I'm really good at this. I can't be a marine or a Jedi, but... but I don't want to be those things. I want... I want to be this. I can be the best at this, not just the guy with the most wins, the guy who's the best at it. I can't fight like you do, but... I can fight like this. I can be a hero like this." He shrugged. "Karen said that not every hero needs a sword. I can't use a sword, but like this I don't need to."

Raynor said nothing for a moment, watching the kid impassively as Gregory waited for his reaction. When he finally responded, it was in the form of a question.

"You really won the Hammerfall op without losing a man?"

Gregory smiled. "Twice."

Raynor laughed and put an arm around Gregory's shoulder. "Come on," he said. "I'll find you a cab, and you can tell me how the hell you pulled that off..."

[frigidmagi]

The man held the car door open for Jeremy, and climbed in behind the man, sitting in the plush leather seat. The interior of the sedan was filled with creature comfort, drinks were set, as well as snacks for the newly Ascended. The car began to move no sooner than the door had closed, and the passengers were settled.

"Our Mutual Friend thought you might be hungry after your....trip, and thus I made sure to have a small selection for you. I'm sure you'll desire a chance to freshen up and have a substantial meal, prior to going see him. He asks me to assure you that all this is with no strings attached, aside that you meet with him and hear his offer."

Jeremy grabbed something and chewed it and slugged back a drink of water. It tasted good after that hike. Cold and crisp and clear flowing down his throat, it also bought him time to consider before replying. This could be a trap. Unlikely though, they could have killed him alot easier when he was asleep in the car. So if it was a trap, it wasn't a trap meant to kill him. To be honest he made up his mind when he entered the car, why was he dithering?

"Alright then. I don't suppose either you or our 'friend' have names, do you?" Jeremy asked.

[Dark Silver]

The man didn't seem to move, as the car bounced over speed bumps and potholes in the road, the car seemed to shake around him instead. When Jeremy asked his question, "I am known as The Guide. I have been in service to Our Friend for many years now. He does indeed, have a name, though few know it, and those which do never speak it. I know him only by title, he is my Master, though the few others who are privy to his exsistence have called him the Shadow Don."

The car continued on, making several turns and moving down a wide avenue to what looked like a main street. If Jeremy looked out the window, the city would seem familiar only if he looked at holovids from the 20th century, the styling of the neon lights and the signage in shop windows, even the building style harkened back to Old Earth.

Finally, the car stopped in front of a massive building of marble and glass. It was one of the few buildings which seemed almost out of Era for the town as a whole, yet still blended in. The car door opened, revealing a red carpet that streched out to a awning which inturn, lead into a well light overhang and the revolving doors which allowed entrance. The doorman was there, holding the door, as if in wait.

"After you," The Guide spoke, waiting for Jeremy to step out, before doing so himself. He placed a small pouch int he doorman's hands, which bowed and closed the car door behind them.

The Guide lead the Ascended through the doors, and into the hotels austere parlor, white and black marble columns rose up 20' tot he ceiling, plush carpeted paths led to decadent looking sitting areas with sofas and plush armchairs, a bank of phone booths were off to one side, a bank of elevator doors almost right across from the phones, and in the center, was the main desk. The Guide walked to the desk, obtained a keycard, and walked back to Jeremy.

"We have a suite here within the Prescott for you, within you will find all the amenities you will require, as well as a new selection of clothing. Please dress how you wish, and feel free to order as you desire from the Room Service. Our Mutual Friend will be along soon, to meet with you. I do hope you find the room to your liking. If not, I am sure we can get another..."

[frigidmagi]

It was a hell of a room... No that was an understatement. He had never been in a room this nice. Not even on his honeymoon with Mary and that was the nicest vacation he ever took.

A large double wide bed in a separate room. A full set bathroom. Wet bar, mini-fridge even a balcony with a large cushy chair. There was a T.V and a full computer and various things he couldn't identify. Ritzy. Jeremy had been a cop and a good one. He knew when someone was trying to make a statement. And what a statement it was.

I have power, I have wealth, I can help you but only if you help me

Supping with the devil indeed. When he was a badge he had ignored statements like this. When he was a badge he had slammed men for trying. When he was a badge. When he still was with Mary...

"Huh... The room is... Great. Perfectly fine. Thank you." He said as the Guide left. He tossed his backpack on the coach and starting undressing. He would keep his pistol with him but he needed a shower and a shave. Then he would check the closet and see if there was anything nice to wear that would hide the firearm.

Sup with the Devil, no matter the spoon. Just get her back and worry about the rest then.

[Agent Fisher]

With a frown, he followed after her, standing a couple feet behind her, like a silent bodyguard.

Jack waited until he had left before facing LizBet. "I'm not gonna convince you to give up and go home, am I?" He asked with a sigh, quite used to how his little niece could seemingly get anything she wanted. He knew she would manage to sneak back out here. Better to stick with her and keep her out of trouble. "Alright, you win this time. But you will obey me if things get rough out here. I say hit the deck, you do it. I say hide, you become invisible. And if I say run, I want you to leave me and get home, am I understood?" He asked, hand coming up to tilt his glasses down as he looked at her.

[LadyTevar]

"I'm not gonna convince you to give up and go home, am I?"

LizBet's grin only got wider, even as she felt a gentle protective spell drop around her. She listened patiently to the conditions Jack laid down, and for the moment agreed to them.

"Understood, Uncle Jack," she answered. "So, where do we start looking?"

[SirNitram]

Following a simple nod of acknowledgement, Malkamar was carefully routed around by a Guide. When he arrived at the hotel room, he found it occupied. "...Ahh. I'm not the only one on the payroll for this little deal with the devil."

The icy blue eyes, not eyes in the conventional sense but lights in the sockets.. Watched Ackerman for a few minutes. "Name's Malkamar. Sometimes called The Light Of Dawn. Don't touch the axe, it's.. Cranky."

[Dark Silver]

The meal was finished, the man enjoyed it, while the Death Knight seemed....unhappy. It bothered him little to be honest. The Guide showed up a few minutes after the he finished with his breakfast, and Malkamar was lead away.

A black leather pouch, trimmed in purple velvet was placed on the table, the clink of coins with it meant enough to pay the bill, and a generous allotment for the waitress.

With that, the man rose from the table, straightened his coat, and took a step back, his form disappearing in a swirling cloud of darkness.


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

Poe's trip to the morgue was uneventful, the traffic this late in the morning was light, and despite the appearance of a new Cannibal body, the Crystal City Morgue was quiet.

That was, until he got into the reception area.

Once there, the place was bustling, a din of noise and shouting. Upon even a casual glance, would show most of the entire group was the blue skinned, female-looking Asari. The throng of female non-humans were thick, and even if he could try to work his way to the reception desk - which nearly all of them crowded around - he would easily pick out the weapons held by the body guards.

It didn't seem like he was going to get a chance to see the body until MacFarland got to work his usual bureaucratic magic.

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

He was once more walking down a street, not far from where the girl had been found just that morning.

The man in black kept to himself, the people around him keeping a mindful distance, though they did so solely unconsciously. He had come for a particular meeting, and had not done so out of serendipity - though it may have to be postponed due to it.

The Alchemist had indeed come out of retirement. The Man in black saw the glint of the gauntleted hand as he ran out of the alley after a red headed girl. As he got closer, he saw the two were speaking to another, and when the teen turned to Jack, the man in black nearly stopped in his tracks. The hesitation was only momentary, as the man watched his quarry.

To many people, the time was not oppurtune yet. Eventually, he could have his chance to speak with the Alchemist.

For now, he had another meeting to go to. The Man in Black turned down a alleyway, his form fading into the swirling black mists that singled his teleportation.

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


Jeremy and Malkamar would both have had time to relax and get to know each other by the time he showed up at the Prescott. He was still dressed in the clothes he wore when he met the Death Knight, none of it looking any worse for wear. The fedora was still pulled down as he reached up, and knocked on the Suite's door.

[Charon]

Matt finished cooking his blueberry pancakes and tossed them onto a plate. "Mmm, pancakes." Moving to his fridge, Matt opened the door and pulled out a luxury he afforded himself, real Maple Syrup. Not that fake watery crap you found at most stores. Pancakes weren't pancakes without real maple syrup.

Sitting down at his couch, Matt buttered and syruped his pancakes and went back to channel surfing as he ate.

[Agent Fisher]

"I'm not gonna convince you to give up and go home, am I?"

LizBet's grin only got wider, even as she felt a gentle protective spell drop around her. She listened patiently to the conditions Jack laid down, and for the moment agreed to them.

"Understood, Uncle Jack," she answered. "So, where do we start looking?"

Jack chuckled. "I know a place." He said, turning to walk away from the alley. The alchemist walked down the street, unconcerned about people in his way, for when they saw his expression and how he carried himself, they always seemd to have better things to do then be in his path.

It was the oldest tradition in role playing games. Back in the days of Zion, before he had gotten sucked into this crazy world. Hell, even back in the days of games his father played. If you wanted information, or quests, there was one person you could always count on.

The Bartender.

******

A somewhat long walk later, Jack opened a door to a warehouse. "Listen up, Elizabeth. You stick close, don't stare, and don't talk to anyone." He warned. Leading her through the stacks of boxes, he came into the bar area. It was still early in the day, only a few retired heroes in the bar, a few having breakfast.

"What can I get you?" Came the question from the Turian bartender.

"Information." Jack replied, leaning on the bar.

The Turian scoffed. "Oh for crying out- Another one? Why does everyone ask me that?"

Jack blinked in suprise as he looked over at the other bartender, an old friend who was hiding his smirk.

"New guy?" The ascended asked.

"Yeah, doesn't get the tradition with this job." The barkeep said. "What do you need, Jack?"

"The Cannibal." The Alchemist said, voice low.

[frigidmagi]

[/quote]Jeremy and Malkamar would both have had time to relax and get to know each other by the time he showed up at the Prescott. He was still dressed in the clothes he wore when he met the Death Knight, none of it looking any worse for wear. The fedora was still pulled down as he reached up, and knocked on the Suite's door.

Jeremy had managed to introduce himself and do some small talk with the new guy. Who was dressed up in something right out of fantasy game with a big axe... This place got stranger and stranger. He was glad he had showered and dressed before Malkamar had shown up, having him walk in when Jeremy was butt ass naked looking through the closet would have been... Awkward.

A knock at the door interrupted the conversation.

"At this rate, we'll be having a party in here." Jeremy remarked as he went to open the door.

[LadyTevar]

"New guy?" The ascended asked.

"Yeah, doesn't get the tradition with this job." The barkeep said. "What do you need, Jack?"

"The Cannibal." The Alchemist said, voice low.

"And, while you're at it, a rootbeer, since anything ELSE I order he'll say no," Lizbet said to the new barkeep, rolling her eyes as she took a stool at the bar. Leaning closer to the new barkeep meant her breasts rested provacatively on the countertop. "we'll let the old men talk," she said to him, conspiringly, giving him a wink. "How long have you been working?"

[B4UTRUST]

James looked around the reception area of the morgue. It was uncommonly packed. Asari women and bodyguards were everywhere. And the noise. He'd been in bars that were quieter. They were in a uproar over something, and given that the news had released it had been an Asari maiden that the Cannibal had killed as its latest victim, it made sense. They were shouting, yelling, demanding, cursing and doing everything short of outright violence trying to get what they wanted from the receptionist.

Poe sighed and made his way through part of the crowd and found an empty chair to cool his heels while he waited for McFarland to do his bureaucratic magic and get him through security. Because sweet talking the receptionist at this point was out of the question and he doubted security would be any less strict. In the mean time he could at least figure out what the hell the Asari were here for. Sitting down in the chair he leaned his head back against the wall, closed his eyes and listened to the Asari.

[SirNitram]

Jeremy had managed to introduce himself and do some small talk with the new guy. Who was dressed up in something right out of fantasy game with a big axe... This place got stranger and stranger. He was glad he had showered and dressed before Malkamar had shown up, having him walk in when Jeremy was butt ass naked looking through the closet would have been... Awkward.

A knock at the door interrupted the conversation.

"At this rate, we'll be having a party in here." Jeremy remarked as he went to open the door.

"No kidding." Malkamar muttered. "They got some kind of alcohol here? Doesn't really do it's wonders on me anymore, but it's one of those things you never stop needing, even when dead."

[frigidmagi]

"No kidding." Malkamar muttered. "They got some kind of alcohol here? Doesn't really do it's wonders on me anymore, but it's one of those things you never stop needing, even when dead."

"There's a fully stocked bar over by the fridge Malkamar." Jeremy said pulling open the door.

[Dark Silver]

Poe would be sitting there for ten minutes, hearing nothing but loud noises from the group of Asari which took up most of the reception area for the morgue. Though a couple of words, and what was apparently a name.

Tassa Holloff. If Poe worked his brain hard enough, he might remember she was the Off Planet Ambassador to the Crystal Palace and it's Council.

Before he could get more than a name (seeing as he did not speak Asari proper, much less most of their dialects), MacFarland walked into the Morgue. He scanned the reception area, barely managed to find Poe, and walked to him. A tap on the shoulder, and a twitch of his head for Poe to follow, and MacFarland was heading to the door with the guards, who parted when they say the Detective's shield, and let both through.

"Got here as soon as I could. May as well let you eyeball it yourself - may pick up something from it we missed."


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


The Turian looked over the red headed human girl who was being obvious in her flirting with him, poured her the root beer, and cocked what passed for a eyebrow in his scaled face, "Sorry, I don't flirt with monkeys...to much fur," he said dismissively, moving off to do other work, mumbling under his breath about humans.


The older bartender shook his head, before looking back at Jack, "You ain't asking for much are ya?"

He reached under the bar, grabbing a highball glass, and poured a measure of whiskey into the glass, a few ice cubes, then what passed for coca cola on Transverse, and placed the cup on a napkin in front of Jack.

"No one knows much about him he don't have no rhyme or reason. Rumor has it that last one? That Asari girl? She was related to someone high up on the food chain... He's got everyone riled up. Even heard rumors about some people swearing they saw the Berserker back from the dead..saying HE was the one going around doing the killings...."

The bartender shook his head, leaning in close to Jack, his voice dropping lower, "Word is that the S.D. himself is being threatened by this Cannibal guy..the other Bosses are starting to muscle into Old Town. That could be trouble Jack...."

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

The door open soundlessly, the hinges well oiled and in excellent repair, one of the few places in Old Town able to lay claim that everything here looked and worked flawlessly.

He was, nearly as Malkamar last saw him, in the cafe. He was a tall man, his well toned form dressed in a tasteful black suit - there really no other color of clothing on him. The fedora remained on his head, casting a shadow over his features, while the leather coat was open, revealing a black button down silk shirt with no tie. Black leather gloves remain on his hand, the left one having the three triangles forming a greater one, the top most tinged shimmering red, the lower left glowing lightly blue, the lower right remaining dull gold.

With little doubt, the main could be very threatening in stature and appearence, if he so choose, but nothing about him now gave the air he desired that.

"My apologies for interrupt you Sir," he spoke, bowing his head slightly to Jeremy. I am here to speak with you and the Light of Dawn - I am called the Negotiator, and I am here on behalf of a mutual friend. Might I come in?"

[LadyTevar]

Liz-bet grinned as the Turian walked away, sipping her drink as she shamelessly eavesdropped on the information Uncle Jack was gathering. She had several questions -- if she could get the Asari girl's name, LizBet probably knew who the family was. But another name caught her interest.

"... the Beserker?" she asked, eyes wide.

[Agent Fisher]

The older bartender shook his head, before looking back at Jack, "You ain't asking for much are ya?"

He reached under the bar, grabbing a highball glass, and poured a measure of whiskey into the glass, a few ice cubes, then what passed for coca cola on Transverse, and placed the cup on a napkin in front of Jack.

"No one knows much about him he don't have no rhyme or reason. Rumor has it that last one? That Asari girl? She was related to someone high up on the food chain... He's got everyone riled up. Even heard rumors about some people swearing they saw the Berserker back from the dead..saying HE was the one going around doing the killings...."

The bartender shook his head, leaning in close to Jack, his voice dropping lower, "Word is that the S.D. himself is being threatened by this Cannibal guy..the other Bosses are starting to muscle into Old Town. That could be trouble Jack...."

Jack smirked. "If I wasn't asking for much, I'd have gone to a data terminal. I need to know something, I come to you." He replied, looking down at the drink, hand starting to reach for it before he paused and pulled his hand back.

"How high up and how related? We talking some Matriarch who was spawning maidens like some zerg hive? Or we talking the cherished child sort of deal?" Jack sighed, shaking his head. "And yeah, I know you don't know."

Jack looked over at LizBet, hearing her repeat that name. "Berserker. Haven't heard that name in a long time. As for back from the dead?" He chuckled.

He paused. "Trouble. Heh, I've had plenty of it before, nothing I couldn't handle."

The alchemist pushed the drink back, putting down some gold coins, far more than the drinks were worth. "Thanks for the tip. You take care now." He said, standing from his stool.

[frigidmagi]

"My apologies for interrupt you Sir," he spoke, bowing his head slightly to Jeremy. I am here to speak with you and the Light of Dawn - I am called the Negotiator, and I am here on behalf of a mutual friend. Might I come in?"

"By all means, and drop the Sir. Jeremy will do for now." Jeremy said stepping back, the harsh grin breaking out on his face. Now we were into it. Now we get the Devil's deal.

[Dark Silver]

Jack smirked. "If I wasn't asking for much, I'd have gone to a data terminal. I need to know something, I come to you." He replied, looking down at the drink, hand starting to reach for it before he paused and pulled his hand back.

"How high up and how related? We talking some Matriarch who was spawning maidens like some zerg hive? Or we talking the cherished child sort of deal?" Jack sighed, shaking his head. "And yeah, I know you don't know."

Jack looked over at LizBet, hearing her repeat that name. "Berserker. Haven't heard that name in a long time. As for back from the dead?" He chuckled.

He paused. "Trouble. Heh, I've had plenty of it before, nothing I couldn't handle."

The alchemist pushed the drink back, putting down some gold coins, far more than the drinks were worth. "Thanks for the tip. You take care now." He said, standing from his stool.

"Daughter of one of the O.P-Dips, anything more I don't know."

The bartender scooped up the coins, giving Jack a nod, before looking at the girl. "Yeah, the Berserker...that's the rumor going round the streets anyway. You looking for a job kid? I know a place whose hiring dancers....."

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


The Man in Black bowed slightly, just a slight bend at the waist before he stepped through the door. "Thank you Jeremy."

Once through the door, he removed his leather coat, walked to the coat closet and placed both fedora and coat within. He turned back to Jeremy, revealing his features. He was human - that much was apparent immediately. His eyes were chocolate brown, his features settled in a way which made his face look like a elongate "V" - from those eyes, to his nose mouth and chin.

"Shall we sit? We have much to discuss, and little time I am afraid in which to do so."