OOC: Time to check in with Sir Meyniel and Heather =)

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

"--and she would have spoken with that rather pronounced brogue particular to the Emerald Isle--" Sir Meyniel said wearily, but the traveler in front of him was already shaking his head at Ottilie's picture, "--sorry, ain't seen the likes of her." He straightened, "big place, though."

"Indeed. Thank you." Mey replied, doing his best to conceal his disappointment, "watch yourself on your way. I noticed several large colorful insects further along that I believe to be poisonous." The other nodded, and they parted in separate directions. Although Meyniel and Heather had encountered a number of adventurers as they made their way around the Complex, one had yet to admit to seeing hide or hair of Miss Ottilie, a fact the knight found both disheartening and disconcerting. Finally stopping to rest, he sat grim-faced against the wall, "dear me, this isn't exactly the endeavor I saw myself about before I came. A knight can't very well defend the champion of his lord if he can't even find her." He sighed, but momentarily smiled again in that dauntless way of his, "oh well. We'll just have to jolly well search harder. My maiden must be close." He moved to replace her picture within his pouch, but it slipped from his fingers, coming to rest on the ground. The file concerning Jerin had been behind it, page still flipped over to reveal his own picture, and this fell too, landing at an angle to Ottilie's photograph. Stooping to retrieve them the knight paused, staring down at the two creatures. They stared back, smiling. Without understand why, the images brought a suddenly terrible (and terribly sudden) sense of foreboding to Sir Meyniel. I must hurry, he thought anxiously, for I can't help but feel she is in some sort of danger, or soon will be...

OOC: A quick congratulations here to Jess, since the RP has now reached-and passed- its 300th post! Keep it up Jess,you rock!

IC: Heather sat with her back to the wall, listening to her companion commiserate over their failure to find Miss Ottilie. Since joining forces with the small knight, Heather had been quite content- whenever they encountered other travellers- to let him do the talking. Even her habitual muttering to herself had lessened now that she was in company again, although she still occasionally indulged in a whispering murmur. Thinking about their mission, Heather decided that, contrary to her initial belief, it wasn't like trying to find a needle in a haystack. There were presently plenty of needles to find, probably more than the Complex had had walking its corridors in decades. The problem was finding the right needle. Were it up to her, Heather would probably have headed as quickly as she could to the centre of the Complex & waited there for the elusive Ottilie, whilst keeping away any other adventurers who would inevitabley find their way to the heart of the Complex. But that wasn't the mission. Sir Meyniel's mission- to which she had volunteered her aid- was to find Ottilie and then help her head to the centre of the Complex to find the fabled Treasure, not find the Treasure and then Ottilie. Of course, Heather and Sir Meyniel had very different motivations for sharing a common goal. For the knight it was a matter of honour. For Heather it was a matter of being able to turn an opportunity to her advantage, even if she had to wait another twenty years or so before enjoying all the benefits of her actions just now. But she would wait if she had to.

As Sir Meyniel once again gazed upon the picture of their elusive quarry, Heather gave the matter some thought. How would they be able to find one person in a place as large- and dangerous- as the Eulerian Complex? If only she knew whether or not Miss Ottilie was carrying some item of unusual technology, she could then probably- from the odds and ends she had on her person- put together something that might be able to home in on such a thing. If she knew the girl's scent, she could probably track her that way. But then, if Sir Meyniel had known Miss Ottilie's scent, he would probably have found her long before now. If they were limited- as they seemed to be- to searching every corner of the Complex in the hope of finding her, then they could easily search for months, or even years without a trace of her. There was one other possibility. If the...something...she sensed was in fact the presence of Jerin Jestwood, they could make for that. After all, if he was here, if he was searching for the Treasure, then it was possible that his path and Ottilie's might converge. But there were too many ifs in that, and look at how many people they had already met who hadn't seen her. Why should Jerin Jestwood- if it was him- have seen anything the others hadn't? Besides, that would mean making her possible link to Jerin known, and Heather didn't want to do that just now. Maybe not ever. She watched as Sir Meyniel gathered up the images of Ottilie and Jerin Jestwood again. She would consider the options she'd been brooding over only if they became necessary. For now though, she was happy to continue searching with their present methods.

OOC: Thank you! =) in other news this post hopefully explains where a portion of the robots have been/are going. I didn't forget them!

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

As is often the way of things the Complex robots re-appeared just as Sir Meyniel was beginning to wonder why he hadn't seen any in some time. Contrarily though the Whirligig that puttered into view did so without flash of sensors or slash of blades, and as Mey readied his lance only twirled towards the pair, paused alongside them, whirred conversationally, and moved on without dispute. The knight stared after it in surprise. He might have written this off as the malfunctioning of a single bot if it weren't for what happened next. Shortly thereafter the corridors came alive with Enforcer models one and two. There were five Whirligigs here, seven there, three more spinning after those, hundreds of Jacks humming through the air, and Balls rolling in numbers so numerous that Mey had to take care not to trip over them. All were heading inwards, and not so much as one made any move to attack either Heather or the knight. As he sidestepped three impatient Balls Sir Meyniel remarked, "'tis very strange, milady! I was ambushed by several of this--" he gestured at a passing Whirligig, "--variety not even a day ago. Were it not for my mission, 'twould be something to know where yon droids are going and what end makes them disregard their primary directive so completely."

Heather's eyes had widened at the sight of such a large number of droids heading towards them. Then, as the droids had continued to stream past them, her expression had changed from surprise to puzzlement and, by the time Sir Meyniel had remarked upon them- or perhaps because of the content of his remark- her eyes had narrowed to an expression of suspicion. Abruptly she stepped into the path of a Whirligig, but deliberately left enough room for it to pass on either side of her. Sure enough, the droid whirred slightly in the almost conversational manner the previous one had done, before passing to one side of her. A slight mutter left Heather's lips, and she tried again with a set of Ball & Jacks. Again the droids avoided her and carried on with their mysterious migration. Heather followed them with her eyes for a moment, before returning her attention to her companion. For the first time in some hours, Heather spoke more than a soft mutter as she addressed the knight.

"These droids are offensive models," she remarked to Sir Mey, "so they should attack. In fact- as you said yourself- not even 24 hours ago, they were attacking. So why have they stopped now?" Again her intense green eyes flickered back to watch the droids filing past, before she spoke again. "They're all headed inward," she said softly, "towards the centre. That's where the Treasure is supposed to be, the place where everyone is trying to get to. If they've all been directed to head there, then maybe the Complex has detected something it regards as a deadly threat to the Treasure's safety. But what? It can't be explorers, thieves or mercenaries, since it there are plenty of those in here already, and it didn't react this way. So where does the threat come from? Perhaps it comes from a particular individual, one who wasn't here before? Or perhaps one who was here before, but one whose identity the Complex has only just become aware of?" As she said this, her eyes shifted momentarily to where she knew Sir Meyniel still kept the picture of Ottilie- and with it, the file on Jerin Jestwood. Then her eyes moved back to meet the small knight's eyes again, as she spoke once more.

"I don't know if we can spare the time to investigate what these droids are up to," she commented, "since- as you said- the mission is pressing. But, if we could somehow stop one of these droids, I could maybe take a look at it & see if its memory can tell us anything? I'm good with mechanics," she said by way of explanation. Then she added, "well, assuming immobilising one of them doesn't cause the rest of them to turn on us".

Sir Meyniel said nothing at first, silently contemplating the robots that continued to pass around them. It was a delicate situation (to say the least). Further dilly-dallying might well further his failure to locate Ottilie. On the other hand if these droids were to get up to mischief that would trouble his Prince's champion later he would feel equally responsible for not investigating their activities now. Then there was Heather's suggestion. While immobilizing one robot wasn't the sort of endeavor that would detain them long, fighting off innumerable attackers as a result certainly would. The small knight glanced round at the Whirligigs and up at the Jacks before his gaze settled on the Balls. He doubted he could handle more than four Whirligigs at once and more than ten Jacks and/or Balls at once. And although he thought highly of Heather's combat skills, that she would be able to handle many more than he was dubious. If they attacked, Mey concluded, we would surely perish due to their superior numbers.

"I couldn't in good conscience stray from my sacred vow, milady," he finally said, "but if it were possible to detain one of these robots without the others coming to its aid and our detriment I wouldn't hesitate." He sighed, tapping his claws against his lance, "regrettably, we have no way of knowing what such an act might yield." The knight stroked the tufts of fur on either side of his face, "...although...if we only stopped one as a test--" and reaching down, he attempted to pick up the nearest Ball. It was his intention to merely hold the little robot and see if the others would do anything for it. If they seemed ready to attack he would release the Ball and let it continue on its way, no harm done (and with any luck, no harm done to them either). The robot, however, had other ideas, and zipped away from his fingers. He tried to catch another, but it evaded him as well. Before long Sir Meyniel was running to and fro while the Balls made erratic circles around him, droning irritably. After many attempts he finally gave up, "blast." What happened next was a testament to the strength of his character, for instead of being angry about what he couldn't do, Mey smiled jovially up at Heather and gestured at the striped droids, "perhaps you can show me how it's done, fair maiden?"

Heather gave a slight nod as she considered the problem. She suspected that she might be lighter on her feet than Sir Meyniel was. And she was certainly younger. The Balls though, looked like they might be faster than either of them & probably more manouvreable too. And if they were programmed in anything like the manner Heather thought they were, then they'd be smart as well. But how smart? That was the important question, because if their intelligence was limited Heather might not have to out-run or out-manouvre them. Not if she could out-smart them. Bearing that all in mind, Heather decided to try the scientific approach.

Without warning, she made a sudden grab for the nearest Ball. Her hand flashed past it by mere millimetres, as the Ball rolled away from her. Selecting a new target, Heather tried again and again to grab one, and every time the Ball evaded her grasp. Speed, it seemed, was ruled out. Having positioned herself in front of some droids earlier, Heather suspected that fancy footwork would accomplish little now, but she gave it a go. Sure enough, no matter how she attempted to intercept them, the Balls always managed- just- to evade her. As another one rolled away from her outstretched hand, Heather suddenly had an idea. Turning, she tried to intercept another Ball- and promptly tripped over one that had rolled (deliberately?) too close to her feet. The accident was not unintentional however, and as she fell forwards, Heather suddenly thrust out both hands. Planting them firmly on the ground, she turned the fall into a feat of high speed acrobatics, as she swept her legs up and over. Then, with a speed and flexibility impossible to an ordinary human, Heather arched her back, brought her legs down, and grabbed an unsuspecting Ball with her feet. Thankful for the toed boots that gave her extra grip, Heather turned her head towards Sir Meyniel. "I'd be grateful if you could hang onto this for me," she remarked, "since- although I went to a lot of trouble to catch it- I'll be a lot more use combat-wise if I'm on my feet".

Sir Meyniel nodded and moved to secure the wriggling, indignant Ball so Heather could get up. When he finally held it (in two hands, for he immediately made a troubling discovery in that the small droid was not just quick, but also forceful) their answer was not long in coming. The trapped Ball droned pathetically, twenty Jack eyes turned red overhead, and three Whirligigs that had been passing stopped to idle round the duo, blades raised in a menacing fashion. The knight released the Ball as four of the Jacks dove, taking up his lance. Once the Ball was free however they pulled up and zipped over his head, making their way to their striped mastermind instead. For a moment all was still and eerily silent. Mey swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the robots. The Whirligigs remained in place while the Jacks conversed with the offended Ball. Then the Ball turned abruptly and continued on its way. Overhead Jack eyes flashed at Meyniel and Heather, but this seemed only a warning, for they followed after their Ball presently. The Whirligigs retracted their blades as well, and the corridor was again filled with conversational dronings and whirrings. Mey adjusted his helmet, this having quite put an end to the matter for him, "lets be on our way, fair maid," he turned, "whatever drives these droids will just have to remain a mystery for now."

Rather than a verbal response to Sir Meyniel's comment, Heather simply gave a single,sullen, nod. Her green eyes flickered up to the warning glare the Jacks seemed to be giving them, sending them a baleful glare in return. She hated it when machines started trying to push her around, especially machines she knew she could fight. She'd had enough of being pushed around when it was people trying to do it. However, this was definitely what could be called a mitigating circumstance. Although she knew herself capable of fighting the machines, she also knew she couldn't fight so many & all at once. Furthermore, fighting them would accomplish nothing, since- if it didn't get her killed- that would probably not leave her any intact droids to extract information from. And on top of all that, there was the mission, and the rewards it might yield. Weighing it all up in the balance Heather concluded that ultimately, there was little to be gained from any immediate attempt at fighting the droids- except perhaps a quick death, and plenty to be gained from leaving them alone- for now. With another one of her soft mutters in her own strange language, Heather fell into step with Sir Meyniel, as they continued on their way.

When Dirac discovered the seven of spades in Jerin's hands he'd gotten the impression he was missing something. In reality it was not the first time he'd seen that particular suit outside the context of a card game. Inside his locker hundreds of miles away another spade lay buried beneath memos and paperwork, time pushing it further and further down as something he'd never have any use for. But although the card itself was mundane and easily lost to memory, the circumstances surrounding its acquisition were nearly as strange and unsettling as those the mercenary now found himself in...

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

Dirac sat on the floor next to the bed, talking quietly to the girl underneath. In addition to the books and clothing he'd been bringing for some time, the mercenary had also been attempting to pass the life lessons he taught Pertelote on to his charge via stories of the former (he figured this was the best way, as his daughters antics were entertaining as often as they were inappropriate and he didn't want Slug to feel as though she were in class in her off time). Realistically Dirac knew she'd probably never find herself in a position to apply most of what he was telling, but he clung to the hope that while there was no escape for him there might be a chance for her. And so he endeavored to inform the girl about the different kinds of individuals in the world, about good manners, about the nature of the planet itself, etc. Some of his story lessons were basic: look both ways when crossing busy streets, never take anything from strangers, never eat or drink something a stranger has been alone with, etc. Other times he spoke of more specific individuals or places. Upon the day in question, for instance, he was describing marketplaces, "...large open areas where merchants go to sell to or trade with each other and potential customers," he told her, "all kinds of things're for sale, food, books, clothing, anything you could ever want." He peeked under the bed, smiling, "saw someone sell handmade sweaters smaller than your hand once," he leaned back, "'nother time I saw a merchant pedaling off these giant pumpkins. Turns out the pumpkins only got that big 'cause of unsafe chemicals though, so after that none of the other merchants would buy anything from him." He continued, "see Slug, it'd be one thing if he had tried to sell his product by telling people all the good things about it. If he'd done that he might have gotten more credits, or else something he wanted for a lower price from another merchant. But when he concealed the truth and tried to trick them all he got was a reputation for being untrustworthy, and no one credible wanted to do business with--"

Before he could finish he was interrupted by a knock at the door. Dirac looked up with a frown. He wasn't expecting anyone, which could only mean he'd said something he wasn't supposed to. Resolving to take the forthcoming thrashing like a man and hoping Tutte and Bruijn would at least escort him elsewhere before starting, Dirac stood, walking to the door. But when he opened it he found neither of Houiri's bruisers, facing instead two creatures he'd never seen. They appeared to be twins, weasel-like in appearance and auburn colored all over fading to lighter points on their chests and muzzles, with bright yellow eyes and short, brush-like tails. The one on the right wore spectacles, dark trousers, a white button up shirt, a black vest, and a black tie under a white lab coat. The other was dressed in black scrubs, which along with his lack of eye wear, more muscular physique, and slightly longer, shaggier fur easily distinguished him from his companion. This twin held up a hand, smiling and giving Dirac a little wave while the right one addressed him dryly, "good afternoon. I'm Dr. Locke, and this is my orderly, Twitch. We're here to collect hair samples from your charge."

"Didn't see any physicians on her schedule today..." he responded guardedly. Not wanting to seem impolite in case they were personnel Houiri had called from another facility though, Dirac added, "...but days get mixed up occasionally. I just need to clear this with administration. It'll only take a minute." If either was offended it was impossible to tell, "by all means," said the spectacled creature. Pulling out his A.P.D., Dirac made the call, careful to keep his eyes on both creatures and his axe prominently displayed. He was surprised when the receptionist put him on hold, and suddenly he was speaking to Houiri himself. He sounded panicked, and calling Dirac a moron told him to give the pair anything they requested no matter how ludicrous and not to interfere with or bother them. Needless to say this did nothing to soothe the mercenary's nerves, and when he hung up he felt as edgy as Houiri had sounded. Looking back at his (apparently) important visitors, he nodded, careful to keep his face impassive, "sorry 'bout that. You're all set." Neither spoke, his only responses being an understated nod from Locke as he entered and that same jovial smile and a shrug from Twitch. Watching the doctor remove a glass tube with a stopper in place and a pair of tweezers from his coat pocket, Dirac said quickly, "I'm sure your orderly is more than capable, Dr. Locke, but if he'd like to save himself from potential injury I can assist you in getting the samples without his having to restrain her." Locke's yellow irises peered over his glasses at Dirac, one eyebrow raised slightly. When he spoke the man couldn't be sure if he was being sarcastic or sincere, "how very accommodating. But I only brought Twitch in case we couldn't collect enough from the room itself."

"Ah," he said, relieved. Locke handed Twitch the tube, motioning at first the bathroom and then the pillow. He nodded silently and went to search the drain. Meanwhile the doctor brought out his A.P.D. and began to question Dirac. Was the girl the only J.J.S.P. specimen that had survived? What was her personality? Her IQ? Did he consider her intelligent? Did his colleagues consider her intelligent? What did she eat? How much? When did she sleep? Where? How much? What activities did she enjoy? Did she go anywhere besides her room? How was her health? Was she a quick healer? Were her eyes naturally emerald green, or was that chemically induced? And a hundred other questions besides. Although deeply troubled by Houiri's behavior and its implications, the mercenary kept his employer's words in mind and answered Locke to the best of his knowledge. The doctor didn't look at him once, focusing instead on the screen of his A.P.D. and the answers his dexterous fingers were rapidly keying in. He almost reminded Dirac of a younger version of his boss, save for the fact that there was no cruelty behind this creature's eyes. In truth there was nothing save a kind of scrutinizing. A question mark. The human looked away while Dr. Locke typed a longer answer. He'd always thought the worst thing out there was Houiri. He'd had to think it in order to get by. If Dirac had ever stopped to ponder the idea that maybe there were bigger fish in the sea he might have lost hope all together. And yet at that moment he couldn't help but feel these twins (if they were twins) were a much bigger fish. Because they were either something Houiri was afraid of, or else they came on behalf of something he was afraid of. And the idea of something like that was very, very scary indeed...

As Sir Meyniel and Heather continued their journey through the Eulerian Complex, Heather's moody silence continued, save for a scant mutter now and then. The simple fact of the matter was that the way the machines had reacted when she had scooped up the Ball had reminded her of another time- not so long ago- when machines had used to play a central role in dictating the way she lived...

Boss Houiri's Territory, Rithm, 8 Years Ago...

The girl (then known either as 'Slug' to Dirac or '001-J.J.S.P.' to anyone else) sat beneath the bed, behind the wall of books she'd constructed, listening intently to the tale Dirac was now telling. She'd never been outside of Houiri's headquarters before, let alone outside his territory & so had never seen anything like the place Dirac now described, except in the books he brought her. She tried to picture it inside her head. Large open areas where merchants go to sell or trade with each other and potential customers. The girl pictured the training area where many of Houiri's underlings kept in shape. As large as that maybe? Larger? She tried to imagine it at least twice as big. Then imagined, instead of four walls and a ceiling, no walls & the bright blue sky from many of her picture-books above it. All kinds of things're for sale, food, books, clothing, anything you could ever want. The girl added to her mental image stalls like she'd sometimes seen in her picture-books, with bright, canvas-covers making a roof over them. Then she imagined them overflowing with the kind of goods Dirac had just described. She decided she would have to see a market one day, whenever she got free from Houiri. It would be interesting. It could be useful. She paid rapt attention as Dirac told her about the dishonest merchant. Tell people the good things about something & you might get a better deal than you otherwise would. Try to trick people and you'd lose a lot more than you might've gained if your trick had worked. The girl decided that was important. She'd remember that on the day she went to a market.

Before Dirac could finish telling the story, he was interrupted by a knock at the door. The girl tensed. There weren't supposed to be any others coming to see her just now. Even if there were, other people weren't Dirac, so they weren't welcome. Unfortunately, that very often made no difference and they came in, welcome or not. The girl's eyes narroved as Dirac went to the door. From the way he was holding himself, it looked as though he expected a beating again. The girl couldn't see any reason why he should get a beating just now, but when beatings were issued, they very seldom made any sense to the girl anyway. After all, she wasn't told what went on beyond her own quarters- or not by anyone other than Dirac. Her eyes narrowed further when Dirac opened the door. She didn't recognise the whitecoat at the door, or the one who stood next to him. And the girl was quite sure she knew almost every whitecoat Houiri had ever sent to see her.The whitecoat spoke, calling himself "Locke," and the other one "Twitch". When the whitecoat mentioned collecting samples, the girl felt her claws extending,and a hiss left her throat. Any sample the whitecoat wanted to collect from her he'd pay for! Ever since she'd begun her martial-arts lessons, the whitecoats had been more respectful. And brought more of the kind called 'orderlies' with them; the kind Twitch was. Dirac seemed uneasy with the new arrivals as well, telling them to wait, as he checked with administration. The girl didn't know who administration was- it wasn't someone she'd ever met- but she hoped whoever administration was, he could make the whitecoat go away. The hope was false. Dirac finished the call, and told the two new arrivals they could go ahead. The girl was now like a tightly-coiled spring, just waiting for the moment. As much as she didn't like making Dirac unhappy, she liked whitecoats less. And she'd make this one think twice about handling her, whether Dirac approved or not. That line of thought was cut short as Dirac said he could collect the samples for them. The tension in the girl's small body eased slightly at that. If it was Dirac, it was okay. He didn't treat her like the others, so she trusted him enough to let him collect samples from her without harm from her claws. When the whitecoat said that he intended to collect samples from the room, rather than her personally, the girl's tension died away almost completely. He could have the hairs lying around the room, she didn't need them. But she perked her ears up again sharply when- as Twitch went about his work- the whitecoat began to question Dirac.

Snatching a sketchpad and pencil from nearby, the girl began to make a series of strange, irregular shapes on the blank paper. To the casual observer, they would appear as little more than a child's scribbles. But a closer look would reveal that the 'scribbles' had to them sequence, order, and pattern. This was because the scribbles were, in truth, the visible representation of something the girl had been working on for some time now: A language all her own. Her reasons for inventing a language were actually quite simple. Houiri's underlings didn't like it if she said to them any of the words or names they sometimes used for or about her.And she very much wanted to use some of those words, since she had a pretty good idea what some of them meant. But instead of that, she'd suddenly had a better idea: Why not make a language of her own? That way she could say whatever she liked, and no-one would be unhappy, because no-one would know what she was saying. As she made up the language though, she'd discovered that she didn't use the words she thought she wanted to use, or any like them. She'd realised that this was because- if she was going to make the effort of inventing a language for herself- why should she sum up her feelings in a few short, profane words? Why not be descriptive? Very descriptive?? In fact, why not make full use of a tirade- a word she'd only learned recently- to describe fully every single thing you didn't like about someone, down to the smallest detail? That would make the effort worth it, and provide the girl with a sense of satisfaction every time she used her language. And now the girl used the written version of her language- still not as she wanted it to look, but she could read it- to write down what Dirac and Locke were discussing now, because they were discussing her.

The girl didn't know exactly why they were discussing her, but it was important to note down what they were saying. Afterall, as her martial-arts instructor had taught her, you should never underestimate your enemy. And if she knew what everyone else thought of her, she could get the measure of her enemy- not to mention maybe make sure they underestimated her. She hesitiated for a second at the question of her intelligence. How intelligent did Dirac- and the others- think she was? If she knew that, maybe she could use it to her advantage. The question about how quickly she healed brought about another pause. She'd heard one of the other whitecoats discussing her healing factor with Houiri not too long ago, and knew there'd be something in her file that this whitecoat would be interested in. "...Something I thought I'd best bring to your attention," she remembered the other whitecoat telling Houiri, "you'll see I've marked it in her file here? That's her healing factor last year. This is it this year. You can see the difference". This was followed by a brief silence. Then, "are you implying what I think you are?" Houiri's voice had asked. "I knew you'd understand," the whitcoat had answered, "what we're seeing here is typical of the pattern followed in many longer-lived creatures of the mammalian persuasion. Her healing factor is starting to follow the kind of upward trend commonly exhibited before the deceleration of the ageing process. Presently, the trend can only be detected by careful analysis of the data, but it is an indication that her ageing process will stabilise & slow, giving her a potentially centuries-long life span". Again a short, thoughtful pause. "How soon?" Houiri's voice asked. "There's not enough data for me to be absolutely certain at this point," the whitecoat had answered, "but taking an educated guess, I'd say sometime in her mid to late teens she'll experience a 'peak' in her regenerative powers. I'd say by the time she's 16, or 20 at the absolute latest, her ageing process will have undergone significant deceleration. After that, whether it slows further, or remains constant, will depend very much on just how much she's inherited from which parent," the whitecoat finished. A longer pause followed this statement. "Keep me informed," was the short order Houiri finally gave in response to the pronouncement. The whitecoat had nodded, and left Houiri then. However significant that information may have been to Houiri, it mattered very much to the girl. Because, if she was going to live for centuries, she didn't want to spend all of them with Houiri...

When Dr. Locke excused himself to check on Twitch's progress Dirac fell to further assessing the situation. It was obvious Houiri was apprehensive about something (especially if he was willing to grant any request made of him and his entire facility 'no matter how ludicrous'). What wasn't obvious was what that something might be, and although Dirac felt disinclined to indulge any sort of unnecessarily risky curiosity it worried him that Locke and Twitch were so interested in Slug because they in turn worried Houiri. He needed to try and figure out what they were here for and why for her sake if nothing else. That said, he also needed to do so in such a way that his inquiries wouldn't come off as prying or earn him a beating later for 'bothering.' "More," the doctor said, tapping the glass of the tube with a claw. His voice brought Dirac back, and he realized how he could gather information without (hopefully) infuriating Houiri or offending their visitors. "Dr. Locke," he started in his most respectful tone, "the girl has a haircut in a week. If you're unsatisfied with the amount today I'm sure Houiri would be more than happy to have the clippings delivered to sub-level three." Sub-level three was where all medical personnel worked and kept their offices. Dirac already knew there was no way the two worked for Houiri (he wouldn't treat them as he was if that were the case), but he hoped he could learn something via this polite offer. He watched neutrally as Locke and Twitch exchanged a look. Then Twitch smiled, and his shoulders shook with silent laughter* (a slightly eerie sight). Whatever was funny Locke understood, for he nearly smiled himself and appeared interested in the human for the first time, "we do not work for Mr. Houiri." What he said next felt to Dirac like being struck in the gut with a large bag of ice, "Mr. Houiri works for us."

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

*Twitch is mute, as is 35% of the creature population. This percentage is divided into two groups: creatures physically incapable of making any noise whatsoever (true mutes) and creatures capable of speech who either choose not to speak or never learn to for one reason or another. Twitch is among the first group. His body still goes through the motions though, meaning when he does things like laugh, cough, sneeze, hiccup, etc., it's visually apparent, there's just no sound to go along with it.

Boss Houiri's Territory, Rithm, 8 years ago (Heather's perspective), continued...

As the whitecoat continued to question Dirac, the girl beneath the bed continued to note down the essence of the conversation in her private language. When the whitecoat broke off the conversation to check upon his assistant's progress, the girl had time to reflect upon some of the questions that had been asked. The one about her eye colour was a mystery to her. Of course it was her own eye-colour, and even if it wasn't, why would anyone want to make her eyes green with chemicals? Were green eyes significant in the world beyond Houiri's territory? Or just significant to this particular whitecoat? She decided she would have to ask Dirac about that once the whitecoat was gone. Dirac would know if green eyes meant something in the outside world, although if they did why hadn't he mentioned it before now? Maybe they meant something bad & Dirac didn't want to tell her in case it upset her? Whatever it meant, it would have to wait. She turned her attention to the first question the whitecoat had asked: Was she the only J.J.S.P specimen that had survived? As far as the girl knew, she was the only J.J.S.P specimen that had survived, because she was the only J.J.S.P specimen period. That was what a prototype- the 'P' element in those initials- was after all. 'Prototype' came from 'prototypon', meaning 'original' or 'archetype': You couldn't have any others besides the original to start with- could you? The girl had never before considered the possibility of others besides herself. She indulged the thought for a moment.

She was sure she was the only prototype, the one against which any future J.J.S. types would be measured, for either improvements or failure to meet the mark. But even if there were any future J.J.S types, the girl realised, they wouldn't look like her. Houiri would be even more careful about making them & he'd insure they were pure creature D.N.A, not partially human. They probably wouldn't have the same initials as her either, because they wouldn't be prototypes. J.J.S.M's perhaps (Jerin Jestwood Superior Models)? Or J.J.S.W's (Jerin Jestwood Super Weapons)? Or even J.J.S.S's (Jerin Jestwood Super-Soldiers)? They wouldn't have the same numbers either, they'd all be J.J.S. 002's through to 222's. In fact, as far as the girl could tell, the only way there'd be another prototype, would be if something happened to her. If she died unexpectedly, or disappeared somehow, Houiri would probably attempt to make another prototype. He'd be especially careful about it, and make sure next to no-one even suspected he was attempting it again, but he'd do it. And he'd only keep the new prototype he got if it was pure creature; because he'd know how a hybrid prototype developed & wouldn't want a repeat performance. But even if all that happened, the new prototype would be 002-J.J.S.P. There'd never be another 001-J.J.S.P, and never another J.J.S creation like her. It was a strange twist, the girl decided, that- in trying to develop one who would go in the image of many yet to come- Houiri had (with a little outside interference) made her unique & given her a designation that would remain unique as well. She wondered if Boss Houiri himself had ever realised the irony in that.

Her ears perked to the conversation again, as the girl heard the whitecoat instructing his orderly to collect more samples. She listened intently as Dirac explained she was due a haircut soon & Houiri could send the clippings to the place where all his whitecoats worked. The girl hoped that would be enough to make the whitecoat go away, but her suspicion about him from before remained. He wasn't one she'd seen before, maybe he might be different in other ways too? Her suspicions were soon confirmed when she heard the whitecoat say he didn't work for Houiri. That explained why she hadn't seen him before, so why was he here? What she heard next brought all the tension and suspicion from before rushing back. Houiri worked for them?! The girl had always thought Houiri only worked for himself, since mostly everything that was done was done to please him. But, if Houiri worked for someone too...the girl almost wished now that she had been forced to use her claws earlier. For who knew when she'd have the chance to slice up Houiri's employers again?

The rabbit made no attempt to gain access to more flinging fluid. Instead his attention had leveled on the young man and a sound he hadn't heard in a long time. Henry realized to late his outburst and shrunk back sheepishly. "Cork.. You..." The rabbit muttered, for the moment forgetting about the inevitable barrage of goo. The halfbreed removed a hand from his mouth and looked indignant, "I laughed, so what, is that illegal now?" Just then an almost demonic flicker of mischievous intent lit the hare's blue eye's, "Oh, of course not. But after that noise the walls shouldn't feel so bad." Kevin's jealous glare turned to a look of pale helplessness in the face of the incoming pun-ishing remark. The boy's own feigned attempt to salvage his dignity seemed to teeter briefly on the brink as he heard himself fall into the waiting lure, "What?" A maniacal cackle came from the hare as he snorted out, "They don't feel nearly as cracked as your voice!" The boy flushed, but the rage that usually accompanied any teasing he took didn't seem to be there. Instead a smirk hit his features just before he lunged, pinning the hare still laughing at his own horrible pun to the ground. Suddenly Ottilie saw the same devilish look the rabbit had before in the boy's own brown eyes, "Lady, if you're going to USE that junk you better hurry, I can't hold this lardbutt for long!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"And the brink feels like any other spot. Funny that." A nasal toned shadow lamented, somewhere deeper in the complex. "Why would it? Spots in time and spots to space are identical. Both are relative." a lightly younger sounding voice with the same southern draw responded as it's owner ran a pale maroon sleeved hand across the rock below them. The first voice seemed an echo with no origin, "Relative to what?"

OOC: Two things: one, it's great to have you back Tobe =) and two, I'm attending an expo for work prospects in late November and need to prepare new portfolio pieces, so the majority of my time until then will be invested in that. Posts'll still be coming, just sporadically (read: when I get around to them).

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

The words had no sooner left Henry's mouth when a large glob of the green gel struck Toby's cheek with a splat!, followed immediately by another directed at the youth himself, "mind yer house*, mate!" Ottilie retorted with a good-natured grin, just happy for the temporary relief of play.

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

That's not a solution. You just exchanged one vague suggestion for another. Dirac bit back the retort, swallowing his frustration for what felt like the millionth time that night. Every minute he spent idle and arguing was a minute he could be spending on his way to the center. He reflected bitterly that it must be nice for Aurora to have so much free time on her hands. Rational as he was though, Dirac saw his situation through clear eyes. Jerin wouldn't let him leave. Houiri wouldn't excuse him if he were delayed. The best he could do was attempt to persuade his current subjugator in the hopes that Jerin's knowledge of the Complex would more than make up for lost time later. And the best way to do that certainly wouldn't be by putting his favorite, Aurora, or her idea down. What he needed was to expose some flaw in her reasoning, though that was scarcely possible when he wasn't sure what she was talking about. So he took a deep breath and said evenly, "sorry, still in the dark. Are you talking mind control? Hypnosis?"

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

Dirac's face must have given him away, for Dr. Locke followed this with a wry "surprised, are we?" He frowned, "gotta admit, yeah. Didn't think anyone gave orders to my boss..."

"We don't. Give orders to your employer, that is." Noting the confusion this was understandably generating, Locke explained, "Twitch and I represent one of Mr. Houiri's investors." He adjusted his spectacles, "I realize, of course, that 'indebted to' would be a more appropriate way of describing your employers relationship with mine, but my employer frequently wants labor rather than credit from yours, so 'works for' seems to me the correct phrase. I do apologize for the confusion." Distracted by something on the screen of his A.P.D. then, he returned to tapping at it. Meanwhile Dirac considered what he'd said. It was true the mercenary had sometimes wondered where the credit that paid his salary was coming from. Most of Houiri's current research ventures were still in their developmental stages, meaning unlikely to turn a profit for some time, and Dirac himself had never been sent on the sort of mission where acquiring credit was the direct aim. So he felt he could believe what Locke had said, particularly because it also explained Houiri's apprehension (he and his co-workers were always nervous when Houiri watched them). How many investors did he have, though? Who were they? And where did Slug fit into all this? Locke smiled down at his A.P.D., "you're, what--twenty eight, twenty nine now, Mr. Griess?" Dirac looked up, feeling his stomach turn even as he answered this seemingly non-threatening question, "twenty nine."

"You exercise every day?"

"Sometimes twice, depending on the day."

"You don't get sick often?"

"Not much more than the occasional cold," he replied, wondering where Locke was going with this. He left the question in his eyes for the creature to see, and the doctor noticed, peering over his glasses at him to reply, "making certain your personnel file is accurate." He looked back at the screen, "you've quite the body of work attached to your name. I'll make sure to bid for you if my employer deems the auction house the best course." Dirac felt the cold creeping back, "I beg your pardon...?"

"Assets and shortcomings, Mr. Griess. That's why we're here." He paged through whatever was on screen with his thumb, absently continuing, "I'm afraid Mr. Houiri has fallen behind on his 'payments' of late. If he fails to account for his accounts come this Friday my employer will be seizing some of his assets. And seeing as you are the Dirac Griess that sold his life into Houiri's possession, it is probable you'll be sequestered along with whatever else is deemed appropriate compensation."

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

*This term was already defined on a previous page, but it's been awhile so I figured I'd throw it up again. Mind your house is an Irish expression used at sporting events. It means you're about to be tackled from behind. In context it's the equivalent of saying 'think fast!'

The rabbit snickered watching the blob catch Henry off guard, allowing the rabbit to escape, "Traitorous little brats get gooped in the back." The half-breed plopped backward swatting at the goo on his nose like a canine, comically letting his animalistic side take the helm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Two gods sit upon the window sill, where once six gods did war and will. Three gods have lost velleity, the last lost to his need for tranquility." The trenchcoat clad figure droned out toward noone in particular, hugging his knees.

The smaller of the two sighed, "I can see why your old man threw you out. He had his fill of cryptic #!!%##@% from the wolf."

The larger seemed to think for a moment, then his more youth voice responded, "Dad was a dick. Course you knew that, that was the only part of him you liked."

The smaller figure grunted, "I see you got his mouth."

"I need to ask something."

"Six."

"... No. And thats gross. Do you love him?"

"Your dad? Well I did, but we were kinda young back then."

"No. Him. Do you love Him."

The smaller of the two fell silent. The younger voiced form waited for a few minutes before losing interest and speaking to the wall again. "Creatures know good and evil catalyze from a vertex, all know these two apogees should never have-"

"Shutup."

OOC: Just as an explanation, since we're now covering flashback material & 'present moment' material with two different groups of characters, I may vary the way I post a little depending on how it goes. I'll be taking the unfashionable 'double-post' approach here, by posting in the 'Gem' alt for Aurora & the 'Wildthorn' alt for Heather. If this doesn't work for me, then I'll probably settle for covering both characters with the same alt. Now you've been fairly warned, on with the RP!

IC: Aurora wondered how best she could explain what she had in mind. It seemed that, in spite of her eforts, she still wasn't making herself clear. Pondering how best she could elaborate upon her favoured course of action, Aurora tried again. "I'd hesitate to call what I have in mind either 'mind-control' or 'hypnosis'," she said, "since both of those terms tend- in general- to have mystical connotations attached to them & I don't, as a rule of thumb, involve myself in mysticism. Think, if you will, more along the lines of mental manipulation by sensory stimulation. What I would like to do- given the opportunity- is repay the agent for her services by a particular means of psychological warfare. If executed correctly, relevant sensory stimulus can be used to cause the mind of an intended target- in this case the agent- to construct its own scenario & to accept that scenario as reality. With a little outside aid," Aurora explained, "whatever scenario the mind may construct can be made to seem like part of our ongoing experience- something that's happening in the here and now as a logical progression of recent events- and not a wild, unconnected, nightmarish fantasy. Which is part of what makes it so powerful. Also, in aiding the mind's construction of such a scenario, you can deliver subliminal suggestions to said target if you wish, to the effect that they may be much less troublesome," Aurora concluded. Then, as a further thought seemed to strike her, she added, "as I said before, that kind of thing is best done over time, but it can certainly be done quickly as well, and with about the same efficiency as when done slowly". Having said this, Aurora looked to Jerin & Dirac, to see what response either of them might yield to her latest remarks.

Boss Houiri's Territory, Rithm, 8 years ago (Heather's perspective) continued...

As the girl continued to note down the conversation from the- relative- security of the enclosed space beneath her bed, the questions continued to pile up. The whitecoat claimed to represent one of Houiri's investors. The girl was familiar enough with that term to know what it meant. Someone who gave money to- in this case- Houiri, in order for Houiri to be able to do his work. Who would want to give money to Houiri? From what others had said in her hearing- and what Dirac had sometimes told her- she knew that whoever it was would certainly know what kind of things Houiri did, so it had to be someone who didn't care much about the law. As the conversation progressed, the girl had new questions to ponder. How had Houiri- who seemed to have everyone owe him some form of debt or other- himself become indebted to someone else? And how could that someone else make Houiri pay his debts? No-one the girl had ever seen within the confines of the areas she was permitted to go, was able to make Boss Houiri do anything. He did what he wanted to do. The questions that most attracted her attention though, were the questions that the whitecoat asked Dirac about himself- the questions and what followed.

The girl had already known what age Dirac was, since he had mentioned it either to her, or- when necessary- to others whilst within earshot of her. That he exercised so regularly came as no surprise either. Afterall, if she was exercised regularly & she was a prisoner of Boss Houiri, why should Dirac- who wore a collar like her own- not be the same? The fact that he didn't get sick often was common knowledge to the girl as well. She half-suspected that no-one dared to get sick, for fear of what Houiri might do to them if they did. It was after this question was asked that the information that stunned her came. Dirac had sold his life to Houiri?! The girl had never even considered that such a thing could be done. Why would Dirac do that? And why to Houiri? She would have to ask him that when the whitecoat left- along with all the other questions she had. Worse yet, if Dirac was to be put up for auction what would happen to him? Would he ever see his family again? The whitecoat had said he would bid for Dirac if that happened. The girl peeked a look at the whitecoat from under the bed. He didn't look mean, the way Houiri did. But that didn't mean he was kind either. And he'd already said he didn't work for Houiri. If the whitecoat bought Dirac, she might never see him again, and that was an idea she didn't like at all. But, worse yet, what might happen to her? If Dirac could be bought and sold, a child regarded as a prototype weapon certainly could. And it wouldn't matter who got her, whether they were as mean as Houiri or kind as some of the creatures in her storybooks, whoever bought her would want her as a weapon. That was where her value lay. And if that happened, she was sure she'd never see Dirac again.

Glancing tentatively at what she'd noted down so far, the girl wondered if she dared to write- or even listen- to any more. Because it all seemed to be the worst kind of bad news. And, as much as the girl had never hoped for Houiri to succeed at anything before, she hoped he managed to account for his accounts on time. Because that, it seemed, was the only thing that would save her and Dirac from the market...

OOC: Trying something a little different on Ottilie's end. I feel like we keep using my ideas all the time and that's lame, so I'm making more of an effort to give Toby's characters (and yours too, Gem) chances to express opinions/solutions/whatever. I mean I do have a storyline I'm working from (if I didn't this would be more confusing than it already is), but I always thought interacting with other storylines was one of the points (perks?) of RP, so don't worry about deviating a bit if you're feeling it. That said, if this part isn't gelling (ha) with you Tobe or if you can't really think of anything you want to add/do let me know and I'll move on.

Post Script: Maybe I'm beating a dead horse, but in an effort to avoid future misunderstandings the above endeavor does not equal 'all characters belonging to Jess will now agree to all ideas presented by all other characters no matter how ludicrous they sound to the character in question.' I'm still going to play every guy and gal I have as true to form as I've been. This means Ottilie is obviously going to be more open to outside ideas than say, Dirac or Elsie, both of whom will (given the time of course) probably want to consider every single aspect of another's solution down to the minutest details (Dirac actually demonstrates his distaste for ambiguous plans in this post). Then you have Jerin, who has a five to eight minute attention span for things he's not terribly interested in (again, as demonstrated below). So success lies in who you present an idea to and how you tailor that idea to appeal to that individual. I hope this is helpful and makes some amount of sense.

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

Ottilie laughed softly, but her respite came to an abrupt end with the reappearance of Nemo, her A.P.D. dwelling scan-bot. Alighting on her shoulder, it pinged affectionately. "Aw, hi Nemo. Are ya havin' fun with Jack Frost?" She asked, smiling and looking around for Jerin's recently surnamed robot. As she glanced up, down, right, left, here and there however, her smile faded. Jack Frost was nowhere in sight. She looked back at Nemo, "where's Jack Frost gotten ta...?" Hearing the concern in her voice, Legs (who had been sulking and cleaning himself off among the vines) immediately returned to her shoulder in a single leap (albeit it a somewhat clumsy one since the gel had numbed portions of his body), "what's going on?"

"Jack Frost's missin'. Nemo's pingin' me the particulars, I think..." she replied. Sure enough, her A.P.D. begin to vibrate in her pocket. As she hurried to retrieve it Legs swatted her neck, "wipe your hands, kitto. No telling what that gunk could do to your A.P.D." Rolling her eyes, Ottilie nevertheless bent and used some dead leaves to clean the remaining gel off, so all that remained was a lack of feeling in her fingers that made her fumble a bit as she worked her A.P.D. "Nemo says Jack Frost had ta return ta its master ta scan fer traps," she informed the group, bewildered. "Traps? There weren't any traps between where we were and where we are. That mutton-head must be on the wrong path," Legs chattered grumpily. "Could be the Complex set 'im an' the others ta a different route s'well," Ottilie worried, tapping her A.P.D. against her chin. The decipede crossed two pairs of arms, looking up at her, "whatever the case Lothair said we need to be in Queen Panpoxa's territory* before dawn. We can't afford to wait long." Ottilie pressed her forehead to the heel of her palm, "I know, I know...lemme think, gotta be some way ta figure where they're at without flappin' in e'ery direction like headless chickens..."

*Ottilie intends to make for the grub territory ruled by Panpoxa to A) avoid Six's forces and B) gather more information about Six and the Complex from her. As Six and his kin are active during the day, Lothair warned her, Legs, Toby, Henry, and Kevin that they need to be inside Panpoxa's walls before sunrise when Six wakes up.

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

Dirac lowered his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, "no offense," he started tensely, "but for someone who doesn't 'involve herself with mysticism' you're sure being vague. How are you gonna do this? You said sensory stimulation, yeah, but what does that even mean? Do you need to touch her? Does the process require special equipment? Does she need to be distracted or can you confront her directly? Are there side effects that could negatively affect our progress later? How difficult is it to break out of? How many times have you done this? And what do we gotta do, if anything?" He continued more gently, "I understand trying to spare us the specifics 'til your course is decided upon, but I'm not gonna say yes to any plan that neglects step by step instructions on where I gotta be and what I gotta do. People get killed that way." Out of the corner of his eye Dirac saw Burnu nodding his head in agreement, and Kiku Cho crossed her arms, regarding Aurora with a raised brow. The reaction Dirac was really interested in though was Jerin's, but when he glanced at him the creature didn't appear to be listening. Even when his eyes moved to return the human's gaze he wasn't really looking at him. More like through him. "He stopped paying attention roughly two minutes ago," Junk's dry voice informed them, "a good rule of thumb when speaking with my master is to talk as if your A.P.D. is running out of power and could shut off at any moment." The human rubbed his temples, "great."

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

It was a testament to Houiri's hold over him that the first thing Dirac did was glance at the door. He didn't protest, didn't ask questions, only looked as though he expected his boss or one of his boss's subordinates to come storming in any second. Dr. Locke noticed and said calmly, "Mr. Houiri is aware of our intentions, Mr. Griess. There's no reason to be alarmed. In fact," he regarded the human severely, "I would take this opportunity to ask any questions you may have. It is unlikely you will be given a second chance." Dirac looked back at him. For a minute he was silent. Finally he asked quietly, "you said probable...how probable?"

"After my employer reads my report? Highly so." Locke replied. Dirac looked away, grip tightening on his axe, "my contract--"

"--would you fret over changes to the fine print when therein lies the appeal?" The creature queried. He answered this question with another, "would I have to leave Rithm?"

"Initially, yes. Depending on my employer's plans you could end up anywhere in the world following that. Even if he keeps you for himself his companies operate internationally, so you would be a bit of everywhere."

"But not in Rithm?"

"Not primarily."

"How often could I get back?"

"Once a year at least, three times a year at most." Dirac grimaced inwardly, at this and at what he found himself saying next, "I'd prefer to remain in service to Houiri. S--er, the girl is an easy and polite charge." He added the last carefully, as he wanted Slug to know she was part of the reason he didn't want to leave without directly saying so. "I am only a messenger, Mr. Griess. Regardless, even if you did remain here this position would no longer be available." The mercenary had mentally prepared for this and managed evenly, "your employer would be taking the girl as well?"

"No. If Mr. Houiri fails to settle his debts funding for the J.J.S.P program will be cut." For the second time that hour Dirac felt his stomach sink, "so the job wouldn't exist until Houiri found another investor...?" The doctor frowned. There was no malice in his next words, but there might as well have been, "Mr. Griess...at present there are no other interested parties. Mr. Houiri has tried to make the J.J.S.P. program attractive to investors--I should know, I've witnessed his attempts--but while a super soldier is always an appealing idea his research is inconclusive, given that the girl is his first specimen, and a botched one at that, and his methods are considered too costly."

"But what will happen to her?"

"I assure you my employer is a business man, not an unnecessarily cruel one. She'll be turned over to the care of an orphanage." Seeing Dirac's expression he added, "a speedy adoption is relatively assured. I gather from my human colleagues that she's quite exotic looking by your standards and exotic orphans are currently 'in' among the nouveau riche*. Not a particularly novel trend, but most aren't."

*French term for 'new money' or those who have made or come into money within their generation.

Toby was finishing wiping himself off when he spoke up, "Is there some way to use the APD's to scan the area for 'em? Maybe Adi can link one into his equipment."

The gerbil looked up from playing with his device, "Fat chance, I don't even know how this thing works yet let alone how in Pendragon's name you link it with an eltag unit. I suppose in theory if this APD can preform the typing of scanning we need the eltag's array of sensor's would most certainly boost it, but like hell I know how to mix this kinda tech with ours."

Aurora remained silent for a moment after Dirac had finished speaking, as though scrutinizing every word he'd just said & examining it in minute detail for some vital feature. Then she bowed her head ever so slightly to Dirac. "It seems," she remarked, "that though I've become established in my profession, having been a lone operative for such a sustained period has caused me to overlook the teamwork angle entirely. For that," she said, with her gaze locked on Dirac, "I apolgise. I shall try to answer your questions as you voiced them, and in so doing hopefully clarify my intentions". Having said this Aurora was again momentarily silent as she decided which question to answer first. "You asked how I was going to do as I intended," she began, "and about the first three questions after that were basically extensions of the same question. So I'll answer that one first: I intend to do it with this". On the word this, Aurora removed a strange device from one of the compartments on her belt. It fitted easily into the palm of her hand, and looked like nothing so much as a Rubiks Cube turned spherical. Holding the strange object up briefly Aurora continued. "My showing you this," she said, "answers one further question you asked: Does the process require special equipment? Yes, namely this device, but no other equipment besides. Do I need to touch her? No, but this does- although the latter may involve the former. Does she need to be distracted, or can I confront her directly? Either approach can work, although ideally, it would be better if she was distracted".

Having said all this, Aurora addressed the other questions Dirac had asked. "In regard to how many times I've done this," she informed Dirac & the others, "I've done this five times before now. Twice slowly- using less specialised equipment less often- over a period of several months, and the other three times using the quick method I intend to employ this time, the effects of which are immediate. As for the remaining questions," Aurora commented, "In order to answer them I believe it is necessary to shed a little light on what this gizmo is and does. It has no official name, because very few legitimate bodies can justify the need- or want- of such a device. It works- once in contact with an individual- by picking up the messages the senses send to the brain, and also by picking up the activity taking place within the brain. It then goes to work," Aurora revealed, "by subtly manipulating the incoming messages from the senses. In so doing, it creates within the mind- by use of the body's own senses- a 'virtual' scenario if you will. Effectively, every sense the body has is telling the brain what the device wishes the brain to be told, and the brain constructs a percieved reality based upon that information. And as I already mentioned, it ensures that what the subject percieves seems like a logical progression from recent past events, and not an abrupt shift from one thing to another. Further to that, as I also mentioned, it can implant certain subliminal messages or suggestions if you so wish. And by scanning the activity of the brain, it can determine how best to direct the scenario constructed- without giving away the fact that it is an illusion and not reality, obviously".

With the explanation out of the way, Aurora returned to Dirac's remaining questions. "You asked how difficult it is to break out of," she said, "the simplest answer to that is that it depends on the individual. In order to gain release from the mental scenario- once constructed- all the subject has to do is realise that it is a scenario apart from reality. However, I haven't known a subject yet to break free from the illusion in less than a week-and yes, that was when the quick method was used. With the slow method subjects have been known to- stay under- for months, or even years. In regard to whether or not there are side-effects that will negatively affect our progress later- not exactly. By that I mean," Aurora elaborated, "that the process of constructing a mental scenario has no side-effects upon the subject. Unless you want it to. For example, if you want to implant subliminal suggestions, it will do that. Once the subject is released- or gains release- from the scenario however, you have a 48 hour period in which to either shut down the suggestions (if you used the device to activate them), or to activate them (if you used the device simply to implant them). After that, the subliminal suggestions tend to fade- or vanish altogether if you never activated them. Simply put," Aurora said, "the only negative side-effect would be the agent gaining release from the scenario- which will happen sooner or later anyway. And for your final question- what you have to do if anything- I may not require any assistance at all. But as I said, ideally the agent should be distracted if this device is used on her, and one- or all- of you could provide some help with that. But as to how you'd do that," Aurora concluded, "well I think that only becomes valid if we go for the course of action I propose. Now that you've heard my answers," she said addressing Dirac mainly, "do they satisfy your curiosity?"

OOC: Will probably put in Heather's episode sometime tomorrow.

Boss Houiri's Territory, Rithm, 8 years ago (Heather's prespective) continued...

The girl's eyes followed Dirac's when he glanced towards the door. She too half-expected that Houiri- or one of his underlings- might at any moment come storming in. When this didn't happen, and the conversation resumed, the girl began her notes again. She listened intently as the whitecoat pointed out that now would be a good time for Dirac to ask any questions he might have. Inwardly, she wished someone other than Dirac might- for once- consider giving her similar courtesies. But of course, that would mean that someone other than Dirac thought of her as a person, and Houiri couldn't have that now could he? Vicious thoughts- born of pent-up frustration- floated through her mind, but she put them to one side and continued to listen. The whitecoat remarked that the auction block was a highly probable outcome, once his employer had read his report. The girl found that bit of information disheartening. Dirac didn't seem happy about it either. She wasn't sure what the next reference to fine print was about, but based on Dirac's reaction to that, it wasn't good news, any more than was the auction block. The next bit was the very bad news though: Dirac would have to leave Rithm. True, he'd been away before now, but he'd always come back before. This sounded like he'd have to leave forever, or at least for a very long time. What was she supposed to do without Dirac? He was what made life in a cage bearable. As the whitecoat continued, it became apparent that, even if Dirac could get back to Rithm, it wouldn't be nearly often enough. Then Dirac said he'd prefer to stay. Apparently she was an easy & polite charge. That wasn't what most of her teachers- or any of the other whitecoats- said, but then again, they weren't Dirac. She wondered if she dared to get her hopes up as she listened for the whitecoat's response.

The whitecoat began by reminding Dirac that he was 'only a messenger', and then went on to say that, even if Dirac did stay, the position would no longer be available. Why, the girl wondered, was that? Dirac seemed curious too, and asked if the whitecoat's employer would be taking her as well. The girl wondered if that might be the case. If she and Dirac were taken out of here, that might not be so bad. Maybe they'd still be together afterall? The whitecoat's answer soon dashed that hope. Apparently, if Houiri failed to settle his debts, funding for the J.J.S.P program- for her in other words- would be cut. The girl had a suspicion that, if there were no more money coming in for her, Boss Houiri wouldn't keep her around long. He'd probably find some sly way to get rid of her- permanently. Thus, she didn't think Dirac's next question- about the post not existing until a new investor was found- was terribly important to her. By the time a new investor was found, Houiri would probably have disposed of her & be ready to start from scratch with a new prototype. And he'd be careful to insure that this one would be the kind he wanted it to be. The whitecoat's answer however, sent chills down her spine. There were no other interested parties! If that was the case, then her days were numbered, if Houiri was unable to settle his debts! And apparently, her being a less than satisfactory specimen wasn't doing Houiri (or herself at that moment), any favours. The question Dirac asked next was the question the girl wanted answered most: What would happen to her?

The whitecoat began by saying that his employer was a businessman, and not an unnecessarily cruel one. In the girl's opinion, that put him at least one notch above Houiri, who seemed to be both of those things. He went on to say that she would be turned over to the care of an orphanage. The girl had heard the word now and then, but only had a vague idea as to what it meant. In her mind, she had always pictured it as being rather like the market stalls in her books, except bigger and with the merchants selling children of all shapes and sizes, instead of other goods. This image was reinforced when the whitecoat added that a speedy adoption was relatively assured, since- by human standards- she apparently looked exotic & exotic orphans were 'in' amongst the 'Nouveau Riche'. The girl wasn't entirely certain what that last phrase meant, but she was fairly sure it must mean something like 'idiot'. After all, what other kind of person would buy an exotic looking child at the market for no other reason than that the child looked exotic? Who else would want such a child simply because such children were fashionable? Then again, maybe she'd get lucky if that happened, and get adopted by someone who actually wanted a child, and for whom exotic looks would just be a bonus? Maybe, if that happened, she might finally have a family? Even as the thought formed, the girl realised that it didn't matter. Because, no matter who adopted her, they wouldn't be Dirac. Dirac was her family, him, his wife, and his daughter, even if she'd never met them. Who else but Dirac knew how she'd been raised, and would understand her needs? Who else might have a chance at teaching a weapon how to be a person? As unfortunate as it was, the girl realised that the only hope was for Houiri to pay his debts. Because only then could she and Dirac remain together.

OOC: Happy Halloween! =)

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

Legs frowned, "APDs don't work like--"

"--but we got Nemo an' s'a scanner! An' Legs knows his way 'round an APD better'n anyone," Ottilie interrupted, turning her head to give the decipede a hopeful smile. He rolled his eyes, "even supposing their eltag hardware and OS are compatible with ours and could give Nemo the boost it needs to scan for Jerin on a superior level there's no guarantee the infrastructure of one or both units wouldn't be damaged in the process. And it's not like I've got a workshop where I can do repairs if something goes horribly wrong, kitto."

"F'it works, though--"

"--we still couldn't rely on the data being accurate across platforms, especially when Jerin's low body temperature already makes for a difficult scan."

"Could ya please jus' try? E'en f'ya can't find Jerin maybe ya could hunt up one o'the others...?"

"Nemo doesn't have any of their heat signatures on file, though. All it'll tell us is it's picking up mobile forms that give off heat, which could be anything: other travelers, animals, robots, etc."

"Well, what 'bout Junk, or--"

"--yeah. Lets have Nemo, connected to our APD containing all our personal information, attempt to locate Junk, a notorious hacker, via a potentially unencrypted, untested connection. Why don't we just tell Jerin where all our contacts and hideouts are," Legs chattered sarcastically. Ottilie blew some hair out of her eyes, "jus' look at what Kevins workin' with 'fore ya write it off. S'all m'askin' fer. One teeny look. An' I'll think up other things in the meanwhile 'case yer right." Legs made a noise that resembled that of a garbage disposal, but ultimately crawled down her arm, "Nemo. Come on." She smiled, arms crossed loosely, "yer the absolute best, Genius."

"More like the absolute sucker." The insect grouched, Nemo pinging cheerily behind him as he leapt to land at Kevin's feet. Looking up at the gerbil, he pointed at his eltag, "is there any way you could open that up so I could take a look at the parts? Maybe by comparing Nemo's hardware with your eltag's we can determine if they're at least similar enough in that respect to make establishing and sustaining a reliable connection a possibility." While Legs addressed Kevin Ottilie moved to stand by Toby and Henry. Glancing at them, she spoke quietly so as not to disturb the others, "don't mean ta pry, but there's sumthin' I been wonderin'. When we met, ya didn't look nearly so old as ya do now, Henry. S'it common fer kits ta age whole years within a few hours where y'all're from...?"

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

"I suppose," Dirac grumbled, "you'd have done better to start with that. Wasted so much time now I doubt we'll catch her 'fore she reaches Miss Ottilie. 'Less she got sidetracked by the Complex again."

"That the little bugger we're waitin' on?" Burnu asked suddenly, nodding at Jack Frost breaking through the canopy overhead. Droning a greeting, it descended to Ball's jubilant reply and Junk's flickering eye, "you are very late," Jerin's primary robot chastised. Twisting, it prodded the back of Jerin's neck with its plug-like tail, administering the equivalent of a static shock. Jerin jumped, blinking, "sorry...?"

"The PIA's agent, master," Junk reminded him. "Probably doesn't matter since odds're we're not gonna find her 'fore she finds Ottilie," Dirac repeated. Jerin frowned, shifting a reel so he could scratch the inside of his wrist, "indeed. And Ottilie can be surprisingly shrewd. Even if we managed to attach Aurora's device to the agent's frame without O's notice I'm not sure how long it would stay that way--"

"--you got all that?" The human interrupted. Jerin seemed just as confused as he, "what...? Didn't you?"

"No, I--"

"--if you weren't paying attention I'm certain Aurora could go over the particulars again."

"No, I was paying attention. I thought you weren't."

"Ah, you were. I was. Wonderful. Moving on." He quickly turned to face Aurora, "as I was saying my dear, although I am fond of Ottilie you have certainly noticed that she is--occasionally--inclined to indulge the more acerbic side of her personality around me..." he looked down, shoulders slumping, ears drooping, "...sometimes I think she reserves it for me exclusively, but I'm digressing. She seems to like that unpleasant girl for whatever reason, and my fear is this: if Ottilie were to discover your manipulation she would surely suspect me of it, and knowing her as I do I believe no amount of saying otherwise would dissuade her from the thought." Jerin paused and ran a thumb along the watch chain round his neck before continuing forlornly, "I'd...rather not give her any more reasons to...to dislike me..."

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

"An orphanage--" his tone made Locke snap his APD shut abruptly, "--mind your words, please. My brother and I were orphans and this isn't a Charles Dickens* novel." The other twin appeared, motioning with the now hair-filled vial. Locke nodded, taking it from him, "or Lemony Snicket*, yes." Twitch brushed his hands off and made another series of gestures, "the one on Fleet Street is lovely. Father hasn't taken any from there in ages," his brother agreed, tapping the glass with a claw so the hairs inside sprang apart. "You know...if there was someone to take her here there wouldn't be a need." Dirac looked away, "...don't know anyone who would suit her in this place."

"I'm aware you've two daughters, Mr. Griess, but a salary from any one of my employer's bidders would make caring for a third no trouble at all. Financially speaking, of course," Locke said, his words nonchalantly suggestive, "you seem fond of her." He peered over his glasses at him, "or have I misinterpreted?" The human avoided his gaze. Truthfully he'd have loved to adopt Slug. His wife already considered her a part of their family (though he'd never told the girl) and Pertelote would adore her as the sister nearer her age that she'd often clamored for. But Dirac was too much of a pragmatist to believe in happily ever after. As long as Houiri was alive he would do everything in his power to make certain Slug and Dirac weren't. If both were taken far enough away the situation might be salvageable, but if she was with his family who could say they wouldn't get caught in the crossfire? Who could say they wouldn't be attacked due to what Houiri would surely view as Dirac's own 'betrayal', making his household the last place in the world Slug'd be safe? Who could say whoever took her, good or bad, wouldn't meet with similar misfortunes? More than that though, if he confirmed he was fond of Slug and by extension would like to adopt her Houiri would probably have him beaten that very night for 'plotting against him' or some similar charge. So pushing the other stuff aside Dirac focused on the present and the beating he wanted to avoid, answering accordingly, "like I said, guarding her numbers among my easier duties. I'm fond of that." The doctor pocketed the vial, "my mistake, then." He turned to leave...

*Both have written books about terrible things happening to very nice children, many of whom are orphans (the most famous debatably being Oliver Twist or David Copperfield in Dickens's case, and Violet, Klaus, and Sunny Baudelaire in Snicket's case). This isn't a bad thing, I'm very positive on Dickens and Snicket/Handler =) Locke is just trying to make a point.

Henry took a sideways gaze at Tobias, the rabbit looked down heavily. "I'm... not really sure. It must have happened when I, er... left."

The halfbreed narrowed, "The million dollar question is obvious here. Where the hell did you go?"

Tobias sighed, "I'm not sure. It was another planet. Empty, desolate, like a desert. I think... I think it was Kyzarie." Henry's eyes widened, "But... Wait, no way. It may be a cesspool but there is no way Kyzarie is a desert." The rabbit shook his head, "I think it was the same planet, just in this.. place. Kyzarie is deserted."

"You left, I left. Then I came back. Probably two seconds here. Was like two decades to me. Probably why it took so long to remember Ottilie and whats going on." Henry said suddenly. "You obviously didn't do it, you were gone."

Tobias nodded and looked at Ottilie, "Only one other person who could. Or would for that matter. O, it seems Sunshine knows we're here. Now, I'm SURE he's waiting for us at our destination."

Ottilie nodded, claws drumming against her cheek thoughtfully. "S'good," she finally said, "bein' 'lones always been hard fer me, ne'ermind bein' 'lone in a strange place." She smiled, "when m'expectin' company though s'a little better 'cause I know I won't be 'lone fer long. I hope s'helpin' Sunshine through." She continued in the same low voice, glancing at the chest the physician primate had brought (she assumed he was hidden behind it now), "how much o'this will ya tell the others ya think? S'none o'anyones business directly o'course, but ya'd best be prepared ta least receive questions regardin' Henrys maturin' so quick. S'strange e'en by our standards, an' this planets seen s'share o'strange happenin's."

Aurora listened as Jerin gave his view on their present circumstances. "I suppose you're right," she said when he fell silent, "Ottilie does seem fond of the agent for some reason. And she probably would suspect you of my manipulation- an idea I can't say sits well with me just now. And you're probably right as well," she continued as she turned her focus to Dirac, "if it isn't a moot point by now, then it probably will be soon. Fortunately, since our small friend has finally arrived, we can now do something about that". There was a general murmur of agreement to that final comment, and the group made ready to start moving again. As they did Aurora commented, "if any one of you wants to kill the agent when we do catch up with her- Ottilie or no Ottilie- then by all means go ahead. I won't indulge in that act with you though," she continued as she rubbed some dried blood from the fur of her cheek between two fingers and a thumb. As it crumbled and fell from her cheek Aurora added, "I don't like getting blood on my hands you see. Once there, blood has a tendency to stick".

OOC: This could possibly be about the shortest T.E.P. post I've ever written!

Boss Houiri's Territiory, Rithm, 8 years ago (Heather's perspective) continued...

Dirac echoed the whitecoat's words "an orphanage," reinforcing yet again the image the girl had in her head with his tone and causing the whitecoat to snap his A.P.D. shut rather sharply. The whitecoat then said- in a somewhat severe tone, the girl thought- that he and his brother were both orphans, and that this wasn't a Charles Dickens novel. Or a Lemony Snicket one for that matter. The girl couldn't recall if Dirac had ever brought her a book written by either of those people. Were they experts on orphanages and how to shop there? Maybe they were inspectors, who wrote about the kind of things that went on at orphanages where standards weren't kept? If that was it, then maybe Dirac hadn't brought her any of those books because he didn't want her to know about the terrible things that went on there, because she had enough troubles of her own? If that was the case, then she couldn't fault his reasoning- although unfortunately it seemed like some of those books might've proved useful for the present situation. The whitecoat went on to say that the one on Fleet Street was lovely, and that his father hadn't taken anyone from there for ages. Maybe the owner of that orphanage was kind-hearted (soft-hearted maybe) and didn't like giving children away? Or maybe the whitecoat's father was an inspector, and hadn't needed to take anyone from there for such a long time because the standards were so well-kept? Then the whitecoat said something that nearly caused the girl to drop her pencil & hold her breath. He said if there was already someone here willing to take her, then she wouldn't need to go to an orphanage!

Almost involuntarily, the girl leaned forwards as she listened for Dirac's reply. He said he didn't know anyone who would be suitable from here. The girl frowned slightly. There was something- not quite right- about Dirac's tone of voice. What was wrong? Was he thinking of all Houiri's other minions and had forgotten himself? Or was it something else? The girl wasn't sure, and the frown stayed as she continued to write and listen. The whitecoat said he was aware that Dirac had two daughters, but a salary from any of his employer's bidders would make caring for a third no problem at all. He went on to say that Dirac seemed fond of her. The girl agreed with him on that point. Or, the whitecoat asked, had he misinterpreted? Had he? The girl leaned further forwards, her heart in her mouth.

The answer Dirac gave felt like she'd been kicked in the stomach. Kicked hard. He was fond of the job because it was easy! Was that all it was to him?! Was that all she was to him?? Tears sprang to her eyes, and she felt her claws cutting into her palms as she balled her fists in hurt outrage. But just as quickly as the pain & rage sprang up, her brain went to work. Something about Dirac's words now- and his tone earlier- just didn't add up. What was it? The girl controlled her breathing as she calmed herself to think. Like Dirac had said at the beginning of the whitecoat's visit; she was smart. She thought carefully. Plenty of Houiri's other minons thought guarding her- within her own quarters- was easy, because (thanks to Dirac's books) she now tended to stay calmly behind the barricade she'd constructed under the bed & cause them no trouble. But none of them had brought her books like Dirac had. Or clothing. Or ever tried to talk to her, except to give orders. No, the girl realised, if it was only a job to Dirac then he wouldn't have done all those things. So he must care for her. Then why hadn't he tried to adopt her when the opportunity came up? The girl realised the answer in a moment. Because the opportunity hadn't actually come up yet, it was simply probable. Right now Dirac worked for Houiri. And, however probable the auction block or the orphanage were, he might still work for Houiri on Friday. And even if it was safe for him to talk to the whitecoat just now, Houiri would be in charge when the whitecoat left. And what might Houiri do to Dirac if Dirac said he wanted to take Houiri's super-soldier prototype away from him?

As the Whitecoat prepared to leave, the girl remembered a story Dirac had once told her about Pertelote: Once she had told her father how well she'd done her school work & that the teacher had commented on it before the whole class. Then, when he spoke to his wife later, it turned out that she'd misbehaved in class & that the teacher had made her stand up in front of everyone while he told her off. Another time, he'd asked her if she'd done something bad & she'd admitted to it straight away. She'd taken the blame for it, only for Dirac to find out later that it wasn't Pertelote, but her younger sister who had done it. In both cases Pertelote had lied: The first time to protect herself, the second time to protect someone else. Dirac, the girl realised, had been doing that when he said he only liked guarding her. He wanted to protect himself from what might happen if Houiri thought he was fond of her, and he wanted to protect his family (and probably herself) as well. As these thoughts sank in, the girl retracted her claws and, with a slight sniffle, wiped her eyes. Dirac did care for her. But the threat of Houiri would stop him from ever saying so out loud. Her hand clenched around the hated collar on her neck. Houiri had just come between her, Dirac, and the thing she wanted most- a family. Dirac's family. The claws began to slide out again. Someday, the girl silently promised herself, Houiri would pay for that...

OOC: Still around guys, just super busy! At this rate I probably won't get another post in before I leave next week. On the bright side that gives Toby more time to reply to my latest Ottilie post, which would actually be better for me in terms of replies (you guys've prolly noticed I prefer to post one big reply to everything rather than many little ones). No need to rush your response though Tobe, because as I said I doubt I'll have time to piece something together before I go =/ just wanted to let you guys know what's happening. Following the 23rd/24th I hope to be back and better than ever! =)

OOC: Well THAT took longer than I anticipated. Pace looks to stay this way for the foreseeable future, too. I'm not giving up the play or anything drastic (writing this is a much needed form of stress relief for me), but between work, temp work, holiday doings, and everything else my calendar is full. In short, posts will be coming, they'll just continue to be sporadic and when-I-get-around-to-them. I do check my PMs and e-mail regularly though, so any questions/comments/whatever can still be directed to one or the other and I'll do my best to respond in a timely fashion =) that's about it.

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

"Dr. Locke." The creature in question turned his head, a slant of fluorescent light causing his eyes to disappear behind the illuminated lenses of his glasses. Dirac continued, "goes without saying I'm no creature. Can't break even with your kind in most arenas." This was hard, but what came next was worse, "my boss understands that. Maybe he's tried to make you understand. But he won't beg. Wouldn't lower himself to that. Me though, beggings not beneath me 'cause I'm not much of anything. So, please,--" he maintained his focus on Locke, even though he wanted to look away, "--please do everything in your power to make sure I stay here. Not as a favor. Wouldn't be that presuming. I ask 'cause I'm certain your employer would be making a terrible mistake. Out there, in here, I'm only human. Difference is in here I've gotten--" the word tasted like sawdust, "--lucky. So far." He finished softly, "but luck eventually runs out."

"...Only human? Just as I am only a messenger, Mr. Griess? I believe I mentioned that earlier. At least twice," the doctor replied. He sounded annoyed. Dirac shrugged, "sometimes my daughter tells me she's cleaning her room 'cause it's true. Sometimes she tells me she's cleaning her room 'cause she knows saying so will keep her out of trouble." Locke actually chuckled a little at this, smiling. Twitch looked surprised, glancing between his brother and the mercenary, "heh...very well, Mr. Griess." He adjusted his glasses, "I did not lie when I said I, we, have no say in this matter,--" Dirac's heart sank. Locke clasped his hands together behind his back, leaning forward and out of the lit area so his eyes became visible again, "--but our father is wealthy and influential. I shall relay your case to him, and perhaps he will intervene where we cannot."

"Thank you..." the man replied, hoping he sounded more grateful than he felt. Locke straightened, his eyes hidden by the light again, "hardly. It is a poor sort of resolution for you." Dirac didn't answer at first, searching for a response that would offend neither the doctor or Houiri. Finally he said, "it depends on how you look at it."

"As you will. Should you ever come to view your circumstances in the same light as I, though--" he interlocked his fingers as he talked and then pulled them apart to reveal what looked like a business card, "--find the Black Market and ask for Dr. Ket Locke. When you present this--" here he pushed the card into the man's not altogether willing hand, "--you will be directed to me." Dirac didn't look at the square of expensive cardstock, merely nodded. Twitch smiled, giving him a mock salute, and Locke returned the nod, "good day, Mr. Griess. It's been ever so nice chatting with you." When they'd gone the mercenary examined the card more closely, but it told him nothing, being only a playing card from a standard issue deck (the four of spades). Quirking a brow at this, he held it up for the cameras (and thus Houiri) to see, before setting it on the medical sink (keeping it would be treasonous, and besides, Dirac wagered Houiri would want to look it over) and turning away. Returning to his post by the door, Dirac sank to the ground wearily, resting an arm on one knee and lowering his head to pinch the bridge of his nose...

Toby looked odd, almost meditative. Henry sneered, "A non-issue. Could count the number of people that cared enough to notice something like that on one hand, why would everyone suddenly start now." Toby nodded, "More than that, most of our number have more pressing matters. But if it becomes an issue there's no real reason to keep it hidden save the time needed to explain it all."

Boss Houiri's Territory, Rithm, 8 years ago (Heather's perspective), continued...

The girl noted down the closing statements made by the whitecoat & by Dirac as she heard them. Maybe when she looked at them again later she'd appreciate how important they were, but just now she needed to vent some of the hatred she felt for Houiri. She needed to go through the exercises her instructor had taught her- those usually worked. Putting her now completed notes to one side & emerging from beneath the bed, the girl launched herself into a sequence of frenzied, intense exercises, pushing herself to move as fast as she could. Imagining that Houiri was in front of her and defenceless focused her completely on her self-designated task & kept her at it for several minutes, before she noticed Dirac again. She finished her exercises once she did. Dirac didn't seem to have moved since he'd resumed his post by the door, he was still sitting on the ground with a finger either side of the bridge of his nose. The girl regarded him with a contemplative look.

In her opinion, Dirac ought to be feeling much the same way as she'd felt after the whitecoat and the orderly left. But, while she focused her feelings outward, Dirac seemed to be focusing them inward. Why was that? the girl wondered. She thought about it for a moment or two, before deciding that maybe it was because Dirac was skilled enough and strong enough that, if he let off steam by using those skills in anger, maybe there'd be nothing left to smash in her room. Maybe including her. And Dirac wouldn't want that to happen- especially not while Houiri's eyes watched overhead- so he was focusing his feelings inwards instead. That couldn't be good for him could it? Her instructor had told her that her own bottled-up feelings weren't doing her any good; and she could heal quickly. What must Dirac's feelings be doing to him? The girl decided that it was up to her to try and cheer Dirac up. But how? He'd made her feel better often enough, but she'd never needed- or wanted- to cheer anyone else up before now. How was it done? Her gaze landed upon the card the whitecoat had left. She'd seen earlier that it had only a pattern upon it- that wouldn't do any good. It would only remind him that he'd had to sacrifice something they probably both wanted for the way things were- the way they both hated. And he'd had to do it to keep himself from harm, maybe keep his family from harm too, even though they'd all have been better off if he'd been able to accept the whitecoat's offer. A question came into the girl's head. Maybe her question would cheer Dirac up? It would at least distract him from his unhappy thoughts anyway, and stop him hurting himself on the inside. Approaching Dirac and locking her green eyes onto Dirac's eyes, the girl asked her question. "Dirac," she said, "is this what other people would call a 'cruel irony'?"

OOC: Hope everyone had a tolerable to pleasant holiday! I've a few notes to go along with this bit. First, all Aesop's fables have been lifted from http://aesopfables.com/ (I should have sited them sooner but I suck like that). Second, the fable Nochtli tells below (The Raven and the Swan) could and can apply to more than one character, pair of characters, or situation, which is why I picked it =) so keep that in mind. Finally, I'm not sure if this is obvious or not but Ottilie's name is pronounced Ah-tih-lee, which is why Ball spells it the way it does.

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

"Yer both prolly right, m'jus' bein' paranoid..." Ottilie agreed, brushing a claw across her lower lip absently. Before she could say what else was on her mind though another said what was on his, "a Raven saw a Swan and desired to secure for himself the same beautiful plumage." The girl looked up, gaze shifting to rest on Nochtli's chest, where the voice and tendrils of smoke rose from an unseen source. It continued, "supposing that the Swan's splendid white color arose from her washing in the water in which she swam, the Raven left the neighborhood where he picked up his living and took up residence in the lakes and pools." Legs continued to listen to Kevin describing something, but out of the corner of his eye noticed Ottilie edging towards the strongbox and diverted a pair of antennae to monitor her (years of mishaps had conditioned the decipede to do so almost subconsciously). The gold-furred creature sat with his back against the far side of the chest, pipe in hand, "but cleansing his feathers as often as he would, he could not change their color," he looked up at she who stood beside him now, "while through want of food, he perished." Seeing his expectant stare, Ottilie quickly supplied the moral, "change o'habit cannot alter nature." Nochtli nodded. She didn't ask why he hadn't spoken before, instead crouching and saying ruefully, "beggin' yer pardon as regards the commotion earlier, Grandsire."

"I was born into a jungle, Ms. O'Dethburr. I do not find your manner unpleasant." She tilted her head at him, her relief overridden by her shrewdness, "did I introduce meself an' ferget the fact...?" He smiled, looking up at Toby and Henry. Ottilie pushed her curiosity aside, extending a hand, "'course, how rude o'me. This is Tobias Hoskin an' his ward, Henry Vand. Their friend is Mr. Kevin Adiabat, an' the decipede helpin' 'im tweak me little Nemo is called Legs. He's a friend o'mine." The elderly creature inclined his head to each as she named them, "delighted." When the girl had finished his eyes returned to Toby. He glanced at Ottilie, then back at him and asked, "do you consider yourself well traveled, master Hoskin? The type that's been a bit of everywhere?"

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

Jerin smiled, pressing both hands to his heart and bowing his head to her gratefully, "my thanks, dearest." Having settled this he pulled the pog that had produced the bubbles from his pocket, "come here, Jack." But Jack Frost only hovered in the air and droned self-importantly. Jerin frowned, "Jack, please come here." The robot turned away. He crossed his arms, tapping the claws of the right against the forearm of the left, "Junk?" The robot listened to the disobedient droid converse with Ball, "of all the--" it looked back at him, "--it says, master, upon the suggestion of Miss Ottilie it is no longer 'Jack.' It has re-registered itself as 'Jack Frost.'" At the mention of her name Jack Frost did several loop-de-loops in the air, droning adoringly, and Ball attempted to spell it in the dirt for emphasis. Jerin smiled at the increasing number of Ahtihlee's, and that fond look crossed his face again as he bent to scrawl, O, T, T, I, L, I, E, for Ball. Jack Frost hovered near his head to get a look, and he noticed the beads hung over its orb. Gripping them between two claws he said, "she gave you these, too?" The little robot seemed wary of the bauble being touched and droned nervously, pulling it from his claws. He chuckled, standing, "very well. Jack Frost, if you would be so kind as to scan this," he held the pog out, "analyze the data, and then scan for similar mechanisms along the path to Ottilie?" This time Jack Frost droned agreeably, and proceeded to run a red beam through the mysterious device. While it did this Ball whined, bumping against Jerin's heel. He looked down. Junk's eye flashed, and it said tersely, "Ball would also like a special nickname, Master."

"I see. Well, Ottilie's quite generous. I'm certain something can be arranged."

"Been so with ya s'well?" Burnu teased, raising a brow at him. Cho, who had been doing her best to remain demure and polite, scowled at this and shot him a look, but Jerin didn't seem to mind, replying with a smile and a shrug, "I suppose. She did marry me."

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

Only one corner of his mouth seemed up to the task of smiling, so Dirac's was rather lopsided, and his quiet laughter more bitter than amused. Leaning back, he rested his head against the wall, closing his eyes as if the ceiling held some answer he could see but couldn't reach and therefore didn't care to see at all. When he looked back at her he smiled tiredly (apologetically?) and shifted, extending an arm to the girl. Maybe he wasn't thinking, or maybe what had just transpired made him not care if asking what he did was a bad idea, "give us a hug? Because I need it."

Henry shot a look sideways at the rabbit, his ears flopping around as he did so, "That reminds me, Hoskin? What the hell?" Tobias brushed him off and stood up, almost at attention, looking over at Nochtli and bowing lightly, "No matter how many places you've been, there are always more. But yes, I'm a bit of a Traveler."

The half breed snorted, "Not like it matters, he never keeps one last name for more than a few decades anyway."

OOC: Just a few things to say before I get into the post properly. Firstly, I've only got back today from visiting family in Dundee and Aberdeen respectively, so that's why I haven't posted until now- and I'll probably post Heather's side of things tomorow. Secondly, Happy New Year everyone, hope you enjoyed the celebrations! Also, hope 2010 treats us all better than 2009 did! Last- but by no means least- welcome to 2010 The Eulerian Path! Can we keep this RP going for another 12 months (at our present rate probably!) and have even more fun? Let's hope so! And now that I think I've said everything I need to here, on with the RP!

IC: Aurora noted with interest the development of the Jack's new name. Jack Frost, a suggestion by Ottilie. Whether or not the girl was as competent with technology as she was at getting into precarious situations, she seemed nevertheless, to be able to influence A.I.'s and sentient creatures with equal grace. That, Aurora believed, could well prove to be a useful character trait, especially since Ottilie seemed a generous sort. Remaining in her company could prove profitable. However, before she could indulge this line of thought further, Jerin's remark about his relationship to Ottilie captured her attention. Or, to put it more accurately, derailed her previous train of thought with the timing and expertise of a demolition expert possessing exceptional familiarity with highly explosive materials and their uses. Ottilie had married Jerin?! If Jack's renaming had been amusing, this was portentous news. How in the name of the Source had that happened? As Jerin himself had pointed out mere moments before, Ottilie did indulge the acerbic side of her nature around Jerin, and the relationship between them was far from cordial. So how had Ottilie ended up marrying Jerin? More to the point, why? Aurora consulted her mental notes to see if any of those could cast some new light upon the matter.

Searching her memory, Aurora recalled that Ottilie had said she was in the Eulerian Complex for three reasons: partly for profit, partly for personal reasons, and mainly to keep a promise. The first had been easy enough to figure out, the other two reasons though, had thus far remained a mystery. Now though, new possibilities presented themselves: Perhaps the personal side was something to do with her marriage to Jerin? Certainly you could hardly get more personal than that. But if that was so, then to what end was their meeting directed? Although it hadn't been formally arranged, they'd known they would meet again sometime. Were they then to consolidate their relationship? Or, were they perhaps to annull it by the death of one or the other? Of the two the latter seemed more likely, since Jerin had- by his own admission- stated a link with Ottilie born of feelings other than love. Perhaps the marriage had been an arranged one? Maybe that was the promise Ottilie was keeping; she did seem like the type to honour a promise once she'd made it- no matter the cost to herself. But even if those theories were anywhere near true, how had the marriage come about in the first place? Aurora remembered her earlier thoughts about the possibility of Ottilie having been sent- by some unknown agency- to track Jerin down. Though she had no solid evidence to back that theory up, her instincts told her that the answers lay somewhere in that direction. As she saw it then, the following hypostosis made the most sense:

Ottilie had been sent to track down the one and only Jerin Jestwood (by who?) and bring him to justice. Along the way she'd had numerous adventures- or maybe misadventures was a better term?- whilst picking up his trail. Eventually, she'd found him but in the process- thanks to her outstanding ability to become the right girl in the wrong place at the right time- said or done something (maybe both) which, in whatever locale or circumsances she'd found Jerin in, had then led to their being married- at least, according to whatever law, tradition, or custom (or trickery of Jerin) had prevailed. Aurora scrutinized the theory. It was still missing several essential ingredients, but it looked like the most promising one so far. She put it aside, to be inspected and modified later. The whole idea of Ottilie being married to Jerin led another memory to call itself to her attention: Cho's cryptic warning from before. "Find what is truly precious to him. Only when you do this will you see what he values in you and be capable of protecting it from coming into his possession. If it's not already too late, that is". What did Jerin hold truly precious? The recent revelation would seem to indicate Ottilie & indicate it strongly. What then, was it about Ottilie that so appealed to Jerin? And how could Aurora use that to protect herself from the potential adverse side-efffects of being familiar with no less a person than Jerin Jestwood? Her face impassive, Aurora watched for dangers from without & within as the group began to follow Jack Frost...

Boss Houiri's Territory, Rithm, 8 years ago (Heather's perspective), continued...

The girl found Dirac's response to her question strange. He smiled- or rather, one corner of his mouth smiled- and he laughed quietly. But the laughter didn't sound correct to the girl, there was something different to the tone and timbre of it. It was as if he was trying to laugh while he wasn't amused, or maybe as though amusement wasn't the only emotion he was expressing with his laughter. Had her question managed to cheer him up? The girl couldn't be certain, he didn't seem that much happier. Yes, he was laughing, but maybe he was now using laughter to get the bad emotions out, while trying to express good feelings at the same time? That could explain why his laughter sounded strange, but at least it would mean he was letting the emotions out instead of bottling them up, which could only be good for him-couldn't it? She watched as he leaned back and rested his head against the wall, closing his eyes. What did that mean? She knew he wasn't trying to sleep, he wouldn't dare sleep while he was meant to be guarding her. The girl herself found it hard to sleep in her own quarters, knowing that Houiri was always watching her. Maybe he was trying to think of an answer? It might be that, but the girl didn't think that her question had been that difficult. Maybe he was still trying to deal with all those emotions? That was probably it. It wouldn't be good for him if he bottled them all back up again, but at least she'd managed to help him get rid of some of them. The girl kept her eyes on Dirac, wondering what else she could do to try cheering him up.

What happened next took her completely by surprise. Dirac opened his eyes and smiled at her. That wasn't especially surprising, since Dirac had smiled at her before, and it probably meant he was feeling a bit better. It was what he said that caught her off-guard. Dirac extended an arm towards her and said, "give us a hug? Because I need it". This caused a whole host of emotions and reactions to take place in the girl in front of him all at once. She'd seen people hugging each other in her picture-books before, but she'd never even seen it done for real, let alone given anyone a hug. She'd never wanted to give anyone a hug either, since she hated almost everyone she saw without exception. In all her life, almost the only time anyone made physical contact with her, it was to conduct some sort of health check, or to restrain her so that some similar kind of examination could be made. Never had anyone touched her to show affection- except Dirac. Even then, those touches had been brief, maybe to help her brush her hair, or tie a knot, or do up a button, or any other such thing. But never a hug- not ever. She felt her muscles move, as a wave of tension ran through her body, and her claws flexed in and out again, her eyes narrowed. She flicked her gaze from Dirac to her surroundings briefly, wary of the eyes that watched her. Could all this be some elaborate plan by Houiri? A game designed to see what would happen if Dirac needed her to show affection by physical contact? The girl had no way of knowing, but she didn't think that was it. But that meant Dirac really did need her, which got her back to where she started- how should she resopnd? She stood irresolute before Dirac, her emotions in turmoil. Finally her eyes focused on Dirac again, but there was a terrible grief and desperation in them. In a small, forlorn voice, the girl answered Dirac, "I don't know how".

OOC: Sorry for the delay guys! This bit gave me some trouble.

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

Nochtli chewed on the end of his pipe, "that is good." He didn't specify whether he meant being well traveled or changing names every so often, instead continuing with, "you're trying to find someone. I believe I can help you." The elderly creature stood carefully, and looking up at Ottilie, tapped the metal trunk with his staff, "Ms. O'Dethburr, if you'd be so kind?" She nodded, wordlessly pulling the chest away from the wall. Nochtli meanwhile rolled a large rock into position behind it, and seating himself upon this, rested a hand on top of the chest like a table while the other rooted in one of the pouches he wore. Finally he spread a deck of rectangular cards out on top of the trunk. Each was hand painted with a slightly different maze-like pattern, the origin of which Ottilie couldn't place. He ran one long finger over them, flipping the cards to their opposite sides. When he reached the last he went back the other way, turning them over again. She watched, and realized the maze-like designs were the back of each card, though what she'd caught of the face sides was no more telling. They were covered with (what Ottilie assumed was) writing and small symbols, some recognizable as referring to nature, or wealth, or love, and others completely foreign to her. "The breeze is telling here," Nochtli explained, and taking a pull from his pipe exhaled a trail of grayish white smoke, at which point it became apparent why he'd told the fable he had earlier. The air moving through the passage pulled, pushed, and seemingly sculpted the smoke into the unmistakable shapes of swans and ravens (or at least birds of that build). "Perhaps the cards have something to tell too," he said. "While your friends finish with their device I'll read yours, if you like. They will not give your lost friends exact location of course, but maybe they can provide you with a hint," he looked up at Toby, "or at least hint at what to watch out for along your way."

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

This last comment left Dirac flabbergasted. Luckily before he could decide whether questioning Jerin about it was a) worth it and b) a good idea, Burnu and Cho interceded on his behalf. "Yer full o'it Jesty," the former laughed. "Indeed," Kiku agreed, though she wasn't laughing, "the very idea that you could find a human to officiate such a...such a ruse is absurd." Jerin smiled, shrugged, and continued to follow after Jack Frost. His self assurance appeared to disconcert Cho greatly, "am I wrong? Have humans begin marrying creatures?" She demanded of Dirac. The mercenary shook his head, "not to my knowledge." Never heard Houiri or anyone mention two creatures getting up to anything like a marriage ceremony. He can't be telling the truth, Dirac reasoned. He might have dwelt further on this had Jack Frost not droned warningly, bringing all of them to attention. They'd just turned a corner, and roughly a hundred feet ahead Elsie knelt by the wall, fiddling with what had to be another of the pog-like mechanisms. She didn't look up from what she was doing, but her ears must have alerted her of their approach because she did smile and give them a little wave with her free hand, "Buster, Tulip, Slick. Ya find me that circuit breaker?"

"Burnu, don't--" Jerin started, but the much larger creature was already balled up and hurtling towards Elsie. She did look up for this, but didn't seem overly alarmed, moving back to dash a line in the dirt with her boot and stand behind it. Once Burnu hit the pogs (it turned out there were two, one on either side of the path) his rolling slowed, as if he had suddenly started moving through molasses. Whatever invisible force was acting upon him was so effective it stopped his rolling entirely and exactly at the line Elsie had drawn. "Move," Jerin advised as the spiked creature was catapulted back towards them. Horrified, Dirac leapt to the side, smacking painfully into the wall in his haste to get out of the way. Burnu shot past to collide with the far wall, Cho running after him, "Burnu!" The creature groaned, uncurling slowly amidst dust and rubble. He grunted up at her, "that were annoyin'. What'd I smack?" While she examined him Jerin wandered up the path to poke at the air between the pogs, which of course wasn't air at all. What shimmered slightly in the moonlight was a thick, gel-like membrane, "strong. Elastic. Nearly invisible to the naked eye." He fingered it thoughtfully, "your scientists are very clever." Elsie bowed mockingly to him from the other side, "best in the world, Slicker. Ya should've gotten while the getting was good."

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

Seeing how upset she was, Dirac quickly said "that's all right," and smiled reassuringly, "that's all right. Pertelote knows hugs but doesn't know martial arts. You know martial arts but not hugs. Knowing one isn't any better or worse than knowing the other. Just different." He shifted to a kneeling position, "and luckily, hugging doesn't take much to learn." Dirac kept his movement to a minimum as he explained, not wanting to spook her, "first, you put your arms around my neck. Then I'll put my arms around you. Then we kind of squeeze each other--" he added, "--not a hard squeeze, but more gentle like. You'll get the idea better when you try it." He paused, then finished softly, "but if you don't want to...I'd understand."

The lapine nodded and watched silently.

Like the others present, Aurora took Jerin's advice & moved quickly when Burnu was catapulted back towards them. Since the agent hadn't been overly-alarmed by their re-appearance, or by Burnu's rolling towards her, Aurora had suspected she had something up her sleeve- particularly since she'd been fiddling with another pog when they'd come around the corner. She observed as Jerin tested the barrier and pronounced it a strong elastic of some sort. Keeping only half an ear open to the agent's claims that the P.I.A. scientisits were the best in the world, Aurora turned her mind to the problem the barrier presented. As Burnu had demonstrated, you couldn't simply smash through it, because the barrier would simply stretch and then snap back into position- with unfortunate results for whosoever attempted the smashing. Glancing up and down, keen eyes observing the shimmer, Aurora noted that going under or over the barrier was not an option; it stretched seamlessly between floor and ceiling. As an aside Aurora noted that the agent's repertoire of gadgets thus far had seemed to consist of tricks that followed a similar theme- with the exception of her laser pistols. The bubble-like traps that had been left in their path earlier, and now the membrane like obstacle that blocked their way. Perhaps there was a significance to that? It was something to consider for later anyway. Aurora turned her mind back to the problem at hand.

Unfortunately, if there was one thing Aurora didn't carry it was an instant solution for elastic-membrane barriers. However...Aurora looked at the vines around her, an idea dawning. Quickly, she set down her back-pack and checked her medikit again. Yes, everything was there. Moving over to where Jerin stood, Aurora spoke quietly to him. "I have a possible solution to this probelm," she said in neutral tones, "but to be sure that it'll work I need to know what kind of vines those are," here she gestured to the vine-clad walls around them, "if you know whether they're a species unique to the Complex or not. And I may need the help of Jack Frost, Burnu and Cho respectively, though not in that order. I can't promise anything but-," and here Aurora lowered her voice still further, "-if what I have in mind works, we shall very soon be rid of this barrier. With that in mind- and knowing you'd rather not waste any more time than we already have- could you tell me what you know about the vines?"

Boss Houiri's Territory, Rithm, 8 years ago (Heather's perspective), continued...

The girl's green eyes watched Dirac with the intensity of a hawk's piercing gaze as he shifted to a kneeling position. She listened to his voice as he began to describe how hugging was done. "First you put your arms around my neck". This caused a stir of unease in the girl. Both arms? Yes, she could do that easily enough, but then what would she use to defend herself with if she had to? her legs and feet? She listened to the next step. "Then I'll put my arms around you". This set alarm bells ringing. Willingly step into the grip of a potential opponent who's physical strength was far superior to her own? If she did that, all Dirac would have to do was tighten his grip, and keep it tight until either her ribs cracked and pierced her lungs, or she died of suffocation! Or a combination of the two. Admittedly, with both her arms around Dirac's neck she could maybe sink in her claws, slide one of them between the vertebrae & sever his spinal cord, but likely that would only mean they'd both die instead of just her. With some trepidation, she listened to the next step. "Then we kind of squeeze each other--," he must have seen the sudden distress that flared in her eyes, for he continued quickly, "--not a hard squeeze, but more gentle like. You'll get the idea better when you try it". There was a momentary pause before Dirac added, "but if you don't want to...I'd understand". At that moment, a hug was about the last thing the girl wanted to try. Not only was maybe 95% of her previous experience of physical contact negative, but the idea of stepping into the grip of someone much stronger than she was (willingly!) and letting them squeeze- it ran counter to all kinds of martial arts training she'd been given. The very idea was anathema to her, almost to the extent that the suggestion left her feeling physically repulsed by it. Her body was now so tense that her limbs felt rigid, and as she flexed her claws in and out again, she was dismayed to hear a low growl involuntarily leave her throat. Upset by her unintentional reaction, she tore her gaze away from Dirac and fixed it on the camera eyes that watched her.

Her glare became ferocious as she looked at the cameras. Had she been mistaken? Was this all some elaborate scheme by Houiri after all? Had he become bored with her and decided to kill her? A doubt flickered across her mind, Dirac wouldn't want to kill her. It wouldn't matter if Dirac didn't want to kill her, she told herself, he would if Houiri told him to. After all, he was Houiri's prisoner too, even if his prison wasn't made of walls and bars. Another thought asserted itself. If Dirac had been told by Houiri to kill her, he'd have done it by now. He would have done it as quickly and cleanly as possible, and not tried to fool her into getting close to him first- he cared for her too much to try tricking her like that. And he'd have used his axe, or some other weapon to make sure she was dead. So that must mean that Dirac did want a hug,that it was...normal? With that thought, something dawned on the girl, a shift in her thinking. Hugging was normal- but Houiri had made her afraid of it. Physical contact was normal- but Houiri had made her afraid of it. Having people who cared for you was normal- but Houiri had made sure she hated almost everyone around her. Houiri, Houiri, HOUIRI! He ALWAYS made her afraid! He ALWAYS took away the good things! How was she going to escape from Houiri if she was afraid of hugging? How was she going to make Houiri pay for the things he'd done to her all her life if she was afraid of even the people she trusted most? Her glare went from ferocious to baleful, to malevolent, the intensity increasing until, as she abruptly swung her gaze back towards Dirac, there was a trace of feral madness gleaming in her eyes. The girl felt fury pulsating through her as she walked towards Dirac, the pulse stronger with every step. Houiri was the one who always made her afraid. Houiri was the one to blame- for EVERYTHING! Well, NO MORE! She wasn't going to be scared of him any more, she wasn't going to let him make her scared anymore. If she wanted to ever escape Houiri and have a normal life, she had to get rid of the fear. And she was going to MAKE it go away, no matter what it took! Face set, she marched towards Dirac.

Her expression must have reflected her inner rage, because Dirac actually looked a little anxious about her approaching him now. She slowed her advance slightly, and allowed her training to channel her emotions. Visibly calmer, but no less resolute she continued to advance towards Dirac. Time, she told herself, to take step one for getting rid of the fear. Allowing herself to smile at Dirac, despite the tension still constant throughout her body and the madness that gleamed in her eyes, she slowly placed her arms around Dirac's neck and allowed him to hug her. Despite her fears and reservations from earlier, the gesture was surprisingly gentle- and soothing. The girl's anger subsided a little more- until it occurred to her to wonder how many hugs she might have missed thanks to Houiri. Then it came back renewed. Leaning in close to Dirac, the girl whispered softly but vehemently, in tones of pure venom, "one day I'll get out of here and Houiri's days will be numbered. And one day I'll come back for him. and when I do," the girl added, her soft voice becoming a sibilant hiss, "he'll be mine".

OOC: This might be the fastest I've ever replied to anything.

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

Nochtli smiled over interlaced fingers. He seemed thoroughly pleased. Turning to Ottilie, he said pointedly, "thank you Ms. O'Dethburr." Understanding, she looked at Toby and jabbed a thumb over her shoulder, "gonna go try'n rustle up s'more provisions. Jus' back an' 'round the corner, won't be but a minute."

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

Jerin kept his eyes on Elsie, "they are not unique to the Complex, but they do grow best in indirect sunlight." The agent raised a brow at him, but crouched to greet her returning Rover unit instead of commenting, "ya finished?" The robot hummed affirmatively. Elsie grinned, "lets get to it then." Standing, she turned her back on them, but Jerin stopped her, "all I want is to re-join Ottilie. Whatever else you've in your head about me isn't nearly as true." Elsie didn't turn, "I don't care."

"You've no business with her." She glanced over her shoulder, giving him a small, devilish small, "when I see your precious Ottilie I know exactly what I'm going to do." She started to walk, "what I said before stands. I see ya again that'll be three times and the last time. C'mon Rover." They disappeared around the bend. Ball and Jack Frost murmured angrily, and Junk looked at Jerin to see how he was taking this. He stared after her, arms crossed, claws tapping in quick succession against his left arm. Finally he looked at Aurora, "well? The vines aren't poisonous, dear girl. Do make it quick. I'm a bit peckish and if we hurry I'll still have time to figure out how to make it up to Ottilie."

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

Dirac didn't say anything at first, burying his head in her hair. At least, that's what it looked like to the cameras. But Dirac was very clever, his mouth barely moving near her ear as he whispered (he knew it didn't matter how quietly, she would hear), "sometimes things work out like we hope. But not usually. Then you have to do something else." He touched her head gently with his hand, reassuringly, "be clever. Houiri would never let you escape twice. Go far away. Learn a trade. Live simply. Honesty. Integrity. Not cause the world is rampant with either. Cause it should be. And cause you have to be those things on some level in order to find them in others."

Aurora simply nodded to Jerin's remark, before turning her attention to the vines. With quick, precise movements, she sliced away a number of flexible twigs dense with leaves, and trimmed off the thorns. Next, she ran her hands carefully over the vines, inspecting them more by touch than by sight, until she found something that seemed to please her. Slicing her claws through a rather more substantial part of the vine this time, she held the severed chunk to her nose and sniffed it. Apparently satisfied, she took both the chunk and the twigs back to where she'd left her medikit. From the medikit she selected a few choice ingredients, a mortar & a pestle, and began mixing the substances she'd taken from the medikit together. Occasionally, she punctuated this with a little water from her flask, and some of the whitish liquid that oozed from the chunk of vine. Slowly, the mixture began to turn a dirty off-cream colour, and an unpleasant smell began to rise from it. As the transformation took place, Aurora slowed the pace of her mixing. She looked over to where Jack Frost still lingered near Jerin, and called the small droid by name.

Once it had buzzed over, Aurora set the mortar over a quickly-erected tripod. Not something commonly found in most medikits, but Aurora had the extras because she knew it was sometimes necessary to make your own medicine. She delivered her instructions to Jack Frost in the form of a courteous question. "I wonder," she said to the droid, "if- in the interests of helping us all to reunite with miss Ottilie, you might be so good as to heat this solution for me?" The small droid hummed an affirmative. "Thank you," Aurora replied to it, " I shall need you to keep it at a constant temprature for the next minute or so. Don't make it as hot as you can," she informed Jack Frost, "but keep it over 1,000C. And keep it constant". Having instructed the droid, Aurora turned her mind to the next part of the process. This bit wouldn't be so easy. She turned her gaze towards Kiku Cho. "Ms. Cho, esteemed White Chrysanthemum of the Thousand Needles," Aurora said, carefully thinking out how to phrase her request, "in the interests of removing this barrier, making further progress, and reuniting with the other members of our respective parties, would you honour my humble request & add one of your mist capsules to the solution?"

Boss Houiri's Territory, Rithm, 8 years ago (Heather's perspective), continued...

The girl listened closely to the words Dirac whispered in her ear. They didn't fit with her present mood, but she knew that it was good advice. She also knew though, that Dirac was trying to deter her from ever acting on her latest decision by reminding her of the danger- as if she needed reminding with it all around her. But it wasn't purely a desire to make Houiri pay that had motivated her to make her decision to return one day; there was more to it than that. In all liklihood, when a chance to escape presented itself, the girl would have to leave something very valuable behind; the source of the most precious gift she had. That couldn't be left in Houiri's care forever, now could it? Sooner or later, she would have to return for that. Keeping her voice to the same soft whisper, the girl spoke once more to Dirac. "I'll remember what you've said," she told Dirac, "but you must remember what I say as well. I know you want me never to return here, but I'll only take your advice on one condition: When I am free, you must find a way to free yourself too. And you must do it while you still have the strength and sharp wits to do so. Because if you don't, then one day I'll have to come back to free you- and that will mean that I'll have to face Houiri. But even if I have to do that, even if I have to wait years and years, I'll still come back for you. Because if I don't try to free you, who else will?"

Though she couldn't see his face from her present position, the girl knew her words must have had an effect on Dirac, for he hugged her tighter- though not in a bad way, not in a way that would cause her alarm. Sensing that he was probably pausing only while he thought up a new way to persuade her never to return, she whispered in his ear again. "Don't try to argue with me Dirac," she said, "and don't try to frighten me away from here, because neither of those will work. There's only one way I'll stay away from here forever, and I've already told you that. You have to free yourself, you have to be ready. So will you be ready Dirac? Will you promise?"

OOC: Hey TEP turned two at some point last week. I would've mentioned this if I'd been paying attention. Oh well. Good job not boring me for two years TEP =)

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

As no one objected Ottilie took her leave, backtracking until she was lost to view around the corner. She felt Legs's thoughts stir anxiously, but reassured him she was only going to be gathering food along the path not even a minute from where he worked with Kevin. Despite this the decipede's inner monologue resounded grumpily in her head, they get medical treatment and a mumbo jumbo fortune, we get to foot the bill*.

Legs. Ya don't know that.

I don't not know it. And if you're so confident why're you looking for 'provisions'?

Behave yerself.

Yeah, yeah. Do not leave that path.

Won't neither! Bollocks, trust me fer once.
I trust you. It's this place and everyone else in it I don't trust.

Meanwhile Nochtli shuffled the cards several times and spread them before Toby, face down. He gestured, "choose three, one at a time. Turn each face up and place them side by side, the first on the left, the second in the middle, and the last on the right."

*Wild creatures (i.e. the majority as most live outside cities) have their own exchange rates for goods/services. These are considered common knowledge so payment is seldom discussed, though it is expected. Refusing to give payment or refusing to take it is considered extremely rude.

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

Cho sniffed, lifting her head haughtily, "I do not re-call any mercenary of my acquaintance saying the great Aurora was also an accomplished chemist. Why should I believe you have the slightest idea how your mixture will react to my capsule?"

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

"I can't," Dirac answered quietly, sadly, "because I made another promise I'd be breaking if I said yes."

Aurora had known this part was going to be tricky. Asking a kunoichi to part with even one of her mist-capsules, for the best of reasons, was always going to be touchy. Still, having come this far, it was essential to complete the process- and hopefully not give the agent too much of a headstart while doing so. Wishing she were better with words, Aurora nevertheless attempted to answer Cho's question. "Since you put it like that," she remarked in neutral tones, "I never heard any ninja or assassin of my acquaintance say that the legendary Kiku Cho was also romantically involved with Jerin Jestwood. If it comes to that, Jerin himself hasn't actually said as much- either now or at any other time that I've been in his company". Seeing Cho's expression darken at this remark, Aurora continued, unruffled, "but despite that I know it to be true. I've heard it directly from yourself, and I've seen the way you act around each other. Perhaps if you can see that I possess at least that measure of common sense," Aurora said to Cho, "you might be willing to grant that I have some more? That maybe, for instance, I wouldn't mix the chemicals I'm mixing without knowing how they'll react to each other? Or perhaps that- as someone who's spent a lot of time involved in both the healing and killing aspects of warfare- I might have picked up a thing or two about mixing chemicals correctly for optimum efficiency? And even if you aren't willing to grant those," Aurora concluded, "are you seriously asking me to believe that someone such as yourself can't appreciate not placing all your cards on the table at one time? That you don't understand the value of leaving room for a few surprises that aren't common knowledge?" Aurora hesitated for a moment before adding. "I know what I'm doing here. I know how your capsule will react to my mixture. So I humbly ask once again if you will not consider allowing me the use of one?" 

Boss Houiri's Territory, Rithm, 8 years ago (Heather's perspective) continued...
"I suppose that means you have to keep your promise then," the girl said to Dirac, "but it also means that I don't promise to stay away from here forever. I know you want me to, but I won't. Because-," here the girl broke off for a moment, before continuing, "because I know that if I was still trapped in here and you were free, you wouldn't want to leave me behind. If you were free and I was still in here you'd come back, even if you thought there was a chance you might die, even if you thought there was a chance something worse than death would happen to you, you'd still come if you thought that, by facing such terrible challenges you could set me free. If you thought that, you'd come back no matter what. And guess what? I've learned from you Dirac; I won't leave you trapped forever either. I don't know how long it'll be before I escape, I don't know how long it'll be before I come back, but I know I'll do both, however long it takes". Having said this, the girl fell silent again. It was true that she didn't know when she might escape or return. But now that she'd made her mind up that both were going to happen, she was determined to see it through, and would be watching for the opportunity...

OOC: Just wanted to say if you're inclined to do any foreshadowing you can take the lead here Tobe. The first card refers to events in Toby's past, the second to present events, and the third to events that could occur in his future. The cards only convey generalities though, like below Nochtli sees a dark red drop which indicates an immediate family member, but it doesn't indicate which family member exactly. As far as imagery goes its mostly writing in Nochtli's language, but any symbols you want to incorporate can be as obvious (heart=love) or not as you like.

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

Once Toby had chosen his three cards Nochtli hovered over them, reading silently. After several minutes he touched the first with a long finger, "one parent was noble, one notorious. You were left to the noble path..." he traced the strange writing, "...you had someone in your life who protected you, loved you. Hated you, too. Someone close...close in blood," the primate-like creature said, touching the image of a droplet that was the darkest shade of red. He looked up, "the darker the color the more immediate the family. Father, or mother? Sister,--" he tilted his head at him, "--or brother?"

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

But Cho shook her head firmly, violet eyes boring into Aurora's as she emphasized every word, "my capsules shall be used for their intended purpose only." At this Jerin, who'd been waiting impatiently, attempted to interject, "Cho--" she however turned an equally baleful eye on him, "--why would I help you now, Jerin?" He faltered, thrown. She looked down, "why...?" And at that moment each understood it wasn't about some dislike Cho had for Aurora or the sanctity of her capsules. Not really. Jerin's ears folded back along his head, "Kiku--" he started softly. She shook her head again, holding up a hand. Jerin frowned, though he didn't look surprised this time. On his shoulder Junk shifted to better address the kunoichi, "I mean no offense, Lady Cho, but would it not behoove you and Lord Burnu to aid us in order to facilitate your reunion with Lord Nochtli?" She laughed, "knowing him and us as you do, Junk, do you honestly believe we or he will have any trouble reuniting regardless?" Junk processed the idea and admitted, "no Lady Cho. I do not believe you will have any trouble."

"Indeed, and I cannot bring myself to feel too sorry when I am certain your master could dismantle this barrier without the use of my capsules. Burnu and myself have already been more than sympathetic to your cause. In this way we shall not aid you." And Jerin knew it was true because even as Cho moved to seat herself daintily against the wall Burnu shrugged and gave him a look that plainly said what can I do? Despite his superior size and strength Cho outranked him in age and experience. Add to that the fact he worked with her every day and saw Jerin only every so often and it was obvious whom he would side with. So Jerin turned back to Aurora, "have you an alternative in mind?"

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

If Dirac had anything else to say she'd never know, for he drew in his breath suddenly, sharply, and his grip tightened on her shoulders. Then Houiri was saying, "oh please Dirac. Don't mind me." Silhouetted in the door frame he'd gone unnoticed for who knew how long, and the mercenary stood quickly, placing himself between Slug and Houiri as casually as possible, "boss?" He smiled, and Dirac reminded himself he'd been called by his real name, which meant Houiri must be in a good mood. The older creature moved past (ignoring Slug, thankfully) and went to the sink where Dirac had left the playing card. His bony fingers touched it lightly, then picked it up, examining, sniffing, tasting. Eventually he determined it really was just ordinary card stock. Turning back around he leaned against the sink, sifting it through the claws of one hand, "what do you suppose he meant by 'find the black market'?" Dirac scratched his beard. As the years had grown between them he and Houiri had developed an odd rapport. Saying they hated each other didn't quite cover it because although Houiri was very cruel Dirac was grateful to him, and although Dirac was human Houiri couldn’t help but respect his obvious talents. Additionally he had come to rely on the man's good sense. "Don't know--" he replied. Afraid this might be unsatisfactory, he theorized, "--there're black markets in every city. Don't think it could be that. Might be more of a place."

"Black markets are places, pet--"

"--sorry boss. Meant more a name for a single place. Maybe a business or restaurant."

"Hm." Houiri said. Then, "I want you to find it." The human fought a desire to argue, knowing it was futile, "when?"

"As soon as you're off this watch. Take whoever and whatever you need." This order delivered he straightened, replaced the card, and made for the door. But as he drew even with the mercenary he paused. Dirac kept his eyes on the floor. "It's a pity," he heard Houiri say, "that you were born human." The man didn't know how to respond. "Sorry," he finally decided on. "Indeed," his boss agreed. Dirac watched him cross his arms, "you know, I employ hundreds of creatures, Dirac. Hundreds and hundreds of the best money can buy, and believe you me, I have paid for them all. Yet you, an ugly, flawed human of no real account or worth constantly trumps the so called 'best'. Enlighten me as to why." Dirac swallowed hard. It seemed the sort of inquiry to which there was no right answer. "Just lucky, I guess." Strangely enough both smiled involuntarily at his answer, Dirac because he felt anything but lucky and Houiri because he knew it...

OOC:  You're doin' fine.  I prefer not to control others characters as I know I can't portray them as correctly as creator can.  This, believe me, works well for my later surprise.  Second card is up to you.   Third...  joker?  wildcard.   between that and your first card?   Rabbitboy will take the hint.

"Fortunately yes," Aurora answered Jerin, "it just means this'll take a little longer to prepare and may be of a slightly lesser quality than I had hoped. That aside though, it should more than serve our purpose". Having said this Aurora proceeded to select a few more substances from her medikit and added them to the solution now being heated by Jack Frost. The addition of each new substance was puctuated by some careful stirring, and a short sniff from Aurora as she scented the fumes given off by the mixture. After maybe four minutes of this, she seemed satisfied with her concotion and asked Jack Frost to stop heating it. Picking up the hot container, and thankful for the fact that the gauntlets of her all-purpose body armour were insulated against extreme temperatures Aurora addressed the group. "This'll go faster if we work together," she remarked, "but if some amongst you feel unable to aid us then I shall understand. Allowing for that, I need you Dirac," Aurora remarked to the other mercenary, "to take some of these leafy twigs I'm holding and use them to daub this stuff across the top of the barrier left by the agent, paying particular attention to the corners. I'll handle the bottom corners myself, and whatever's left can be spread across the rest of it. It has to be done swiftly though; this substance is naturally very adhesive, and will become more so as it cools, thus if we don't get spread fast enough it will remain solidly stuck to its container". Having said this, Aurora turned to Dirac and, holding out a handful of leafy twigs enquired, "care to help us get out of here?"

Boss Houiri's Territory, Rithm, 8 year's ago (Heather's perspective), continued...

The girl felt the tension return as Houiri entered the room. Though he took no notice of her while he spoke to Dirac, the girl glared at him with narrowed eyes of emerald fire. He was the jailer who kept them both locked up. Herself with solid doors and guards that were more solid still, Dirac with chains around his mind and heart that were no less real than any other chain for all that they couldn't be seen. She still felt afraid whenever Houiri entered the room, but she was determined- she wasn't going to let fear of Houiri control her anymore! He didn't know it yet, she wasn't ready to let him know it yet, but his days were numbered now, and everything he taught her from now on would only be sharpening the blade he was perfecting to cut his own throat with. She watched as he studied the card, then listened as he spoke with Dirac.

It seemed that this black market was different to other black markets (she would have to get Dirac to explain to her what other black markets were sometime soon). This one might be a single place, a particular one. Why would Houiri want Dirac to find it though, when it was the people who might put Houiri out of business who had told Dirac to look for it? Did Houiri want to find out more about them that he could use to his advantage? Perhaps he wanted revenge upon them? Or maybe it was something else? She listened as Houiri instructed Dirac to take whoever & whatever he needed to find it. She wondered, idly, if Houiri would grant Dirac permission to take her along with him if Dirac said it was necessary? She doubted it. Aside from the fact that Houiri viewed her as a valuable work in progress, albeit a flawed one, he knew Dirac had a soft spot for her and, should she happen to slip away from him unnoticed during the excursion, Dirac might not be inclined to search for her as hard as he should. Houiri would never want to open up the potential for that to happen, now would he? And then there was something else to consider: Whoever the whitecoat and the orderly were, they had claimed to be employed by whoever gave Houiri orders. That meant that Dirac might end up facing some very dangerous people indeed if things went badly when he found the black market. The girl hoped that wouldn't happen; after all how could she help him escape if he died before she had the chance to escape first? 

OOC: Cool, glad I'm doing all right so far =) oh and this isn't a big deal but the Complex walls are REALLY high you guys. I need them big with wide corridors to accommodate larger creatures (i.e. serpents, etc.). I apologize for the confusion, I'm sure Aurora wouldn't have asked Dirac to take care of the top of the barrier if I'd made this more apparent before.

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

While something was occurring every other elsewhere the somewhere Ottilie found herself was oddly serene, especially considering she was there and there was a part of the Eulerian Complex. A short distance from Toby and the others the Oasis Investigator dug, dutifully following the vines of wild sweet potatoes she'd noticed in hopes of paying Nochtli with fresh vegetables. Poking her head out from an impressive hole, she blew dirt from her nostrils and added another potato to a growing pile. It was only in pausing to count that Elsie was able to spot her as she came tearing around the corner with Rover* at her heels, "Irish--!" Seeing her savior**, Ottilie scrambled out of the hole with a big smile, "--Elsie!!! Yer alright! An' here not a tick too--"
"--Are ya kidding me?! I leave ya for two seconds to fight some spiny jerk and ya run off*** to dig a hole?!" She frowned and opened her mouth to answer, but the agent held up a hand, "no. Ya know what? Spare me the details of your idiocy. We need to--"

"--where're Jerin an' the rest?" Ottilie interrupted, brow furrowing as she looked past her. Elsie grinned, "I shook 'em." She started forward purposefully, "c'mon. We hurry we can be out of here before dawn."

"Shook 'em...? What d'ya mean? I can't go without--"

"--Irish I don't have time for your back talk!" Elsie snapped, and grabbing her threw the younger girl over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Ottilie squirmed indignantly, protesting as she was carried up the path, "Bollocks Elsie! Lemme down! I need me taters! Elsie! S'goin' on--?!"

*R.O.V.E.R. or Rover (Retrieval Operations Vehicle and Expert in Restraint) is a P.I.A. issued robot. It resembles a Roomba and is supposed to assist agents in capturing targets.
**Remember when Elsie activated a water trap between them to keep Ottilie out of harms way while she fought Burnu? Good times, good times.
***Oh man and remember when Ottilie met Lothair by said water trap and he took her to an untapped location to reveal secrets? Some stuff has happened right.

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

Nochtli continued, following the path of the writing with his pointer finger, "good and bad intertwined throughout your life. You brought one, the other, or both to everyone you knew and carry the weight of the fact..." his finger trailed off the first card and on to the second. He paused, lips moving silently, then said, "your coming here, that was not a choice." The primate-like creature touched several unidentifiable symbols, "and initially you weren't sure why. Now you believe you know, and what you know is you're looking for someone..." he shifted to the third card, "...a girl. If you follow a girl, she will lead you to--" suddenly Nochtli broke off, golden fur standing on end, "--your friend, is she all right?" At the same time Legs leapt abruptly away from the work he was puzzling over with Kevin, dashing madly in the direction his partner had taken. Then Elsie came running into view with Ottilie thrown over her shoulder, "Bollocks Elsie! Lemme down! I need me taters! Elsie! S'goin' on--?!"
"--Shut it Irish--Blondie! We gotta go! Grab everything! No time to explain! I ditched the jerk but I'm not stupid enough to think--" noticing Henry she scowled, Legs hopping in enraged circles around her, "--great! Your Sprout sprouted, that's additional paperwork!” She blew an ear out of her eyes, "well, never mind. Let's get out of here!"

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

Dirac looked up...and up...and up, to where the barrier touched the canopy overhead before looking back at Aurora, bewildered. She expected him to climb, one handed, to smear a hot, rancid mixture in the topmost corner and then climb back down and up the opposite wall to do the same to the other? Quickly? Luckily the man was accustomed to receiving ludicrous orders, so he merely turned his back on her to regard the barrier. It would have made more sense to ask Burnu. He was the tallest. At the same time Dirac understood why she hadn't. Glancing at Cho, he saw she looked away from them, primping and smoothing her hair indifferently. Her decision to retract her assistance appeared unchanged. He looked back at the barrier. Jerin, however, had run out of patience, "pardon me, my dear," he said, unceremoniously relieving the female mercenary of the twigs and scooping half the mixture into a broken nut shell taken from the Complex undergrowth. Handing the latter to Junk the former went into his mouth, and he scaled the left wall in the time it took to blink twice. At the top he applied a liberal amount of solution to the membrane corner, then instead of descending maneuvered via the foliage overhead to reach the right wall, where he did likewise. This accomplished he tossed the shell at the middle of the barrier, where it stuck with a splat! and begin to slide downwards slowly, remaining contents coating the center in its wake. After making certain Aurora was taking care of the lower corners he relaxed, flashing Dirac a smile from his high perch, "my apologies, Mr. Griess. I hope you don't mind!" The human shook his head. He looked at Aurora, "how'll we know if it's working...?"

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

"I didn't know," Houiri persisted, "that you were so fond of your circumstances." Noticing tension in the absent movements of his hand, Dirac realized his employer actually wasn't at ease. He was looking for a reason to take something out on someone. Remaining calm, the mercenary decided to try a tactic that occasionally worked, "something bothering you, boss? 'Sides the obvious I mean." Houiri scowled, but to Dirac's relief didn't call for Tutte and Bruijn. Instead he sank into one of the three small chairs at Slug's low table. When Dirac did not do the same he barked, "sit." The human obeyed, though he opted for the floor (worried his greater weight might break a chair). Houiri crossed his arms, "should I have Basel killed?" Dirac looked startled, "what?"

"He annoys me. What has he even done around here of late?"

"Basel's field skills are crap yeah but his research skills are tops," the other said hurriedly, "transfer him to research."

"Research...?" The man nodded. Houiri contemplated this alternative. "Yes," he finally said, "yes I think that will do." He eyed Dirac suspiciously, "only, why stand up for him? I know he's been cruel to you." The man acknowledged this, then said in his quiet way, "'cause speaking against him would make me crueler."

"Well. My specimen--" for the first time since he entered Houiri looked at Slug, "--might disagree." He straightened, narrowing his eyes at the girl, "come here," he ordered, pointing at the third chair between himself and the human. Anxiety ridden, Dirac nevertheless turned his head to summon more kindly, "Slug."

Aurora looked up to the canopy in response to Jerin's question, noting the trails of her solution that were slowly oozing down the membrane as she did so. It was, all things considered, just as well he'd stepped in to paste the upper corners of the membrane since he'd doubtless saved them all some time. Observing that some of the substance had trailed down from the corners to the centre, Aurora took a few steps back, then with a running jump, smeared the remmnants of the mixture she still had up from the corners and to the centre, making a ragged 'x' shape. Then as she landed, she answered Jerin's question. "You'll know in a moment when it begins to react," she informed him, "and you might want to stay back from the membrane while that happens because the reaction is pretty energetic once it gets going".  While Jerin distanced himself, Aurora began to clean and pack away her medikit as she addressed the others, "it might be a good idea if you all held your noses," she told them, "I know the stuff's bad enough already but once it gets going- well, it isn't poisonous, but its even less friendly to the nose than it is now". Having checked to make sure that Jerin was safely away from the membrane, Aurora called to Jack Frost. "Jack Frost," she instructed the small droid, "give the centre splodge of my mixture a quick burst at maximum tempreature. Then distance yourself from it as quickly as possible". Jack Frost droned agreeably, and flew up towards the centre of the membrane. Once there it delivered a brief burst of intense heat.

The substance burst into bright intense flames, which fast spread out from the centre to the corners along the ragged 'x' Aurora and Jerin had made between them. Added to the unsavoury smell of the ignited mixture was the reek of burning rubber. The flames seemed to fluctuate now and then, but the intense heat did not, and soon the barrier was burned through, leaving the way clear for the travellers to continue. As they stepped through- still holding their noses- Jerin enquired, "what exactly was that substance dear girl?" Aurora looked thoughtful as she answered. "Believe it or not, its a recipie I learned from a nomadic jungle tribe," she answered, "how or when they discovered it I don't know, but they mainly use it to clear large fallen trees or similar objects out of their way. Its a little bit like napalm, only it burns at higher temperatures, if a bit less steadily, and is very naturally adhesive. It doesn't have any formal name amongst the people who made it, but informally it has a name that translates approximately to: 'The Breath of the Southern Dragon'," Aurora elaborated, "and since rubber contracts when exposed to heat, I thought it might help. With any luck the agent won't have gained too much of a lead on us..,"