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Whiskey in the Jar

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51 Re: Whiskey in the Jar on 17th July 2012, 22:34

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Rigby turned to Elenna. "Yeah, the fairy path they've carved out is the bar district you found me in. Just follow the screams, I imagine," he said pleasantly, sounding a bit too happy about that for comfort.

"Wait until I'm out of the room, if you please," Uncle Lewis said, sounding annoyed, as Rome plastered on his best how-to-charm-an-irate-father-smile.

"You bet, Mr. Gilmore, sir. I'll have the girls home before bedtime."

Lewis only harrumphed and shut the door behind him.

The room breathed a sigh of relief. Rome stepped a bit closer to Lenna, since she seemed on edge about something, and put his hand on her shoulder. "Okay, gang, saddle up. You heard the leprechaun, we're going for iron, silver, and salt. Let's head out."

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52 Re: Whiskey in the Jar on 17th July 2012, 22:55

Lenna leaned into Rome’s hand. She wished it would have just been him when she found out about her family. After all he was in the same boat. He never knew that his mom was a hunter right to the last possible moment.
She took out the permanent marker and drew on each of her wrist two symbols, she wasn’t sure what would work the best against fairies. This whole hunt was bizarre. She stuffed the journals in her bag. Later when they had time she would have a look at it.

“I’m driving.” Lenna took the car key from Rome, not waiting for a reply and went back upstairs to her car. In the trunk was everything they would need including guns with silver and iron bullets.


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53 Re: Whiskey in the Jar on 19th July 2012, 03:06

Lenna, Rome, Georgie and Rigby got into Lenna’s car while Richard followed them on his bike. They headed towards the bar district again. Georgie sat in the back with that weirdo kid –oh, wait, leprechaun or fairything- and eyed him suspiciously. She had the feeling that this night was going to be a sleepless night –again. And yes, it no longer had anything to do with holidays…
On top of that Lenna was driving, and Georgie wasn’t particularly fond of her driving. Rome was way too easy on her. Buying her a car was one thing, but letting her actually drive around in that thing…well, not that anybody here actually cared for her opinion.
As they arrived in the bar district, the first thing they noticed was a cream truck parked in a narrow ally. Which was weird. Very weird. It didn’t take much longer for the situation to become even stranger, since a second after they spotted the cream truck, a couple of people appeared next to the truck, their faces hidden under red ski masks.
“That’s them”, Rigby said. “That’s the Red Caps.”


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SPN: Georgina (Georgie) Gilmore
SG: The Kid
LaL: Willow
PA: Skadi
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54 Re: Whiskey in the Jar on 22nd July 2012, 21:48

Following the car into the alley, Richard caught sight of the two masked figures. The turned to face the car and seemed to study it for a second, then one of them burst out laughing.

“Oi! Riggers! Got some mortal friends have we? Think they can help ye get back home.? Not on yer life, and there’s not much of that now, eh?” one of the figures called out mockingly.

“I think we should teach these mortals to mind their own business Burke,” the other replied. If his face hadn’t been hidden by a mask, Richard was sure it would be grinning maniacly.

One Red Cap ducked behind the truck, the other advanced on the car as the hunters did their best to pile out before the fay leapt inside the car. Richard leapt of the bike and went to the saddle back, reaching in for the gun with cold iron rounds.

There was an inhuman shriek from above and Richard looked to see the masked figure he’d lost track of leaping from the shadows towards him. He tried to swing his gun up, but it caught on the way out of the bag. Yanking it free, Richard brought the weapon up too late, the red cap slammed into him, knocking him to the ground. A large blade flashed in the Red Caps hand and Richard rolled to avoid the frenzied slashes, scooping his gun back up as he did so. With a sinister cackle the Red Cap advanced again as Richard fired. The shot impacted not were Richard had been aiming, but caught the Red Cap on the hand, forcing it to drop the weapon. Richard smiled slightly, which vanished almost immediately as the Red Cap backhanded him, sending Richard flying.

Thankfully, Richard’s fall was broken. Unfortunately, it was broken by Rome.


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55 Re: Whiskey in the Jar on 23rd July 2012, 04:29

“Dammit if you drop you fucking blood from your caps on the car seats I gonna kill you!” Lenna shrieked while she was getting up from the ground.

“Lenna does this really matter right now?” Georgie asked trying to aim at the redcaps but they were fast too fast.

“Feuer!” Two fireballs appeared in Lenna’s hands. No one should mess with her Bumblebee. Lenna through the fireballs but only hit the walls. She was started to get angry and pissed. More and more fireballs appeared in her hand and then they hit the cream truck. It was damaged enough that the gasoline tank was leaking. Lenna didn’t intend to but two of her fireballs hit the truck and it exploded in one huge mess. Lenna flew and crashed backwards into the wall of the house. Even her car flipped once over luckily it wasn’t badly damaged but now there was a really pissed Lenna.

“Himmel Arsch und Zwirn! Luft werde schwer!” Lenna yelled at the redcaps. The air around them got heavier as if the gravity was stronger. It made it more difficult to move even though the boys were stronger but Lenna had a hard time to stand on two feet.


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56 Re: Whiskey in the Jar on 25th July 2012, 21:42

Maeglin

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"Argh," Rome groaned, pulling himself to his feet. First Richard had fallen on him--"Look, bro, I know it takes all kinds, but I don't swing that way," he had joked--and then Elenna did something to the world to make...gravity...stronger? Which made no sense. How did she do that, first of all, and second, whyyyy was that a good idea?

Well, Rome was a shoot-first-ask-questions-later kind of guy, and the two big bruisers weren't going to banish themselves.

He pulled out his Desert Eagle, loaded with alternating silver and iron .50 caliber rounds, and opened fire.

Shots pinged off walls and dumpsters, mainly, but a silver bullet also struck one of the Red Caps in the leg. It went down with a cry, looking pissed off that it had been so injured.

The other Red Cap, seeing his comrade fall, tried to bolt. Rome raised his weapon to shoot, but was distracted as something fell out of the Red Cap's coat, perhaps because of the change in gravity, and slammed into the muddy sludge on the ground.

Something book-shaped.

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57 Re: Whiskey in the Jar on 29th July 2012, 19:28

“I’m getting too old for this shit.” Richard groaned as he tried to stand, but found himself struggling to even sit as something pressed down against him. Instead he rolled to his side, bringing up his gun that somehow he’d managed to keep a hold of, and loosened off a shot at the wounded Red Cap. It seemed to sense the shot before Richard fired, and bounded away as he pulled the trigger. The shot went wide anyway.

Then, mercifully, the pressure on his shoulders returned to normal.

“Great. These little buggers are super-strong and they can mess with gravity? How on Erebus are we meant to fight them?” grumbled Richard as he tried to wipe off some of the mud.

“That was me actually,” replied Lenna from behind Richard.

“Really.” Richard looked up with some surprise. “Look, I’ve been avoiding bringing this up but how exactly can you do all those tricks? I guess as you’re whinging them openly around hunters you’re not batting for the other team?” Richard regretted the words as soon as he spoke, given the look of sheer anger on Lenna’s face as he turned to her. Obviously she really cared for her car.

“Guys?” called out Rome. He was crouched over something lying in the mud. “I think I’ve found it.”


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58 Re: Whiskey in the Jar on 29th July 2012, 21:13

Lenna looked angry at Richard. “Those are not tricks, they are… complicated to explain right now.” This comments of Richard would not leave Lenna’s mind that quickly. But for the moment Lenna ran to Rome who got the book. It looked old and the language looked very Irish. Before Lenna could have a look through it the Red Caps were running away.

“Shouldn’t we stop them?” Lenna asked to distracted to do anything since she was holding a old book about fairies in her arms like it was a baby.


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59 Re: Whiskey in the Jar on 30th July 2012, 18:48

This was all kind of surreal. First the shooting at those Red Caps- she still had a hard time realizing that they were actual fairy things- then Lenna using magic again, which Georgie was never particularly fond of, and now those little jerks were about to get away.
“Shouldn’t we stop them?”, Lenna asked, but she was clearly occupied with that book in her hand- typical.

“I’m on it!” Georgie got out her gun, nodded at Richard to signal him to help her, but the moment they started running after them, the Red Caps vanished behind the next corner as if they had been swallowed up by the ground.
“What on earth?” Georgie gasped, then turned around to the others. “Guys, we have a problem...They got away.”


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SG: The Kid
LaL: Willow
PA: Skadi
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60 Re: Whiskey in the Jar on 1st August 2012, 05:38

"It doesn't matter," Rigby said, reappearing from the dumpster he'd been hiding behind. He wasn't about to risk injury while in this mortal body. "We can get them from anywhere with this." He snatched the book from the small dark-haired girl whose name he forgot, practically salivating. This was his ticket home!

He flicked through the familiar book--bound in Piast skin, pages made of fairy wings hammered paper thin--until he hit the right page.

"Here we are, look--anyone speak Irish? No, thought not. Okay, this is the one you want to read out. We just need a...saoiwnfsl..." he trailed off, mumbling nonsense, as he read the components required for the spell.

"Um, sorry, didn't catch that," the fair-haired girl asked, annoyed.

"Oh, you know," Rigby tried again, trying to sound nonchalant. "Standard fare. We'll need a pot of milk, a bit of beer, a silver dish, a sa...nothingimportant...and a magic stone."

The dark girl spoke again. She seemed to be the smart one. "The milk's not a problem thanks to this truck, and I think I can get you a magic stone. What was the thing before that?"

"Umm, oh, you know, nothing special, just some blood."

The boy narrowed his eyes. "How much blood?"

Damn.

"Uh. Not that much."

They stared at him.

"Okay, a lot."

God, these mortals sure were good at the guilt-tripping thing. Reminded him of his Lady, actually. And these humans weren't so bad, really, I mean, between the shoe closet and the believing him and the not killing him,they were almost, well...

"All right, all right, we need a sacrifice. Why do ya think all the people and animals were disappearing, huh? So look, let's go find a stray dog, we put it out of it's misery and...what are all you people staring at me like that for?!"

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61 Re: Whiskey in the Jar on 5th August 2012, 21:19

Normally Lenna was very well known to say inappropriate thinks, but this Rigby was even better.
“You wanna slaughter a poor dog to get back home? Man you are a really twisted guy!” Lenna shook her head. She didn’t like the idea that they needed a sacrifice. For some reason Lenna felt wrong to use a spell without fully understanding it. But it would take her at least two days to translate the spell. They had to trust Rigby.

“Maybe we find a slaughter house and can blood from there? Or a blood bank?” Everything in her didn’t like the idea of killing something that wasn’t a monster.


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62 Re: Whiskey in the Jar on 7th August 2012, 05:38

"Ya know, it's quaint that you t'ought there was goin' ta be an easy way ta do this," Rigby snapped back. "But read for yourself, the spell is very specific. To open the gate there has to be a life lost, blood spilled on the spot. But read," he said, waving his hand dismissively, and sat on the curb.

"Um, maybe we should vacate the area? I'd hate to be pegged near two crime scenes in the same night, thanks," the young blonde boy was saying, like it was a joke. These mortals sure were strange.

He stood up with a beleaguered sigh. "All right, we can leave, but we can't go far. The Fairy Path runs along the bar distriii--"

Rigby was cut off as nice-shoes-girl grabbed him by the collar and dragged him off into the shadows just as a few vehicles with flashing colorful lights showed up and began to inspect the overturned cream truck and the murdered mortal.

At least he'd had the foresight to pocket a carton of milk in his jacket.

But as he sipped it, an unsettling thought gnawed at him. These humans, these mortals, seemed pretty unwilling to shed the necessary blood to open the door. And, worse yet, even if they could be convinced to do it--

Would he even be allowed back on the Other side?

"Fuck!" the blonde boy hissed, nudging the tiny dark girl who was next to him, pointing at a finely dressed man near the cars and the lights. "That's Holyfield!"

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63 Re: Whiskey in the Jar on 7th August 2012, 09:57

Lenna went pale and stepped a little closer to Rome and whispered. “We are in big trouble here, and I don’t mean the blood trouble.”

Lenna looked past Rome at Rigby. They had to hurry and send the redcaps back and get the hell out of town. They all went a little further away from the crime scenes and Holyfield.

“Okay I guess we have no other chance.” Lenna turned to Rigby. “I’m listening what do we have to do to make this spell work?”

Rigby looked annoyed at her he didn’t seem to like her. “I already told ya. We'll need a pot of milk, a bit of beer, a silver dish and a magic stone."

“Good, you got the milk in your pocket, beer is also not the problem, so we gotta go and get a silver dish and… blood and what is this magic stone? Hey will this spell send you back too? Because let’s face you belong here as much as they do.”

Lenna was a little shaken up that Holyfield was here.

Maybe we should just ditch town? Send other hunter to finish the job. It wasn’t worth to get captured by him.

“Shall we split up to get everything we need?” Lenna didn’t like the idea of splitting up but they needed to send those redcaps back.


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64 Re: Whiskey in the Jar on 7th August 2012, 16:02

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"Let's--um--shit," Rome hissed, in agony of indecision. "We need to get out of here, lie low until Agent Wingnut over there goes...away..."

As they watched, two FBI agents stalked up and flashed their badges. They were too far away to hear, what with traffic and all, but something about divisions and jurisdiction and special team and a bunch of other bull was exchanged before the FBI agents backed down.

And to someone who spent much of his time impersonating an FBI agent, for what it was worth, that did not look kosher.

What had Uncle Lewis said about fake FBI agents?

But they knew Holyfield was a real FBI agent. Didn't they?

Rome signaled Georgie, Richard, and Rigby across the alley and waved them back as he grabbed Lenna's jacket and hauled her bodily away. As they reached the other end of the alleyway they curled around the buildings until they were out of sight. Rome took Lenna's arm in his and strolled across the alleyway to join the other half of their group.

"We've got to have something silver in the car, right?" he said, immediately business as the group walked quickly but not suspiciously away from the crime scene, parallel to the bar district that ran for a few miles. "I'm not thinking Macy's is open at this time of night, and I'd rather not have the local police helping these guys out, you know? And Lenna, tell me you've got a magic rock in the trunk or in your purse or something." He turned to Rigby, as if to explain. "She's always buying magic rocks and crap."

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65 Re: Whiskey in the Jar on 7th August 2012, 19:22

“Hey my collection is not crap.” Lenna looked offended at Rome, but she wasn’t really mad at him. Her face changed into a huge smile. “I actually think I know what kind of stone we need. I have a quartz crystal it was seen until the 16th century to be the ‘evil ore’ in Germany some thought it was made when evil fairies passed. A gemstone that is nothing worth because it is seen as dirty. And…”

“Okay okay chica we got it. Stop the lecture. I knew you’ve got the stone what about the silver dish? Are you brewing your potions in one of them?” Rome joked.

“Um I might, let me check.” They reached the car and Lenna started rummaging through her trunk. She was muttering to herself. “Wo…. Ich dachte das… Verdammt ist…”

“Here is the mountain crystal, it is the clear form of quartz… and here the silver dish. I knew I had one.” Lenna smiled triumphant. Lenna tried not to think about why Holyfield was after them and how he had found them this time.


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66 Re: Whiskey in the Jar on 16th August 2012, 00:16

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"Okay, good. Let's...dammit." Rome was feeling entirely too out of his depth. He ran a hand over his face. When was the last time he had slept?

That was something he could fix: he grabbed a caffeine pill and dry swallowed it, psychologically feeling better alredy. Georgie was frowning at him, but, "What?" he said defensively. "It's not heroin, chica, it's caffeine. Last I checked, that was the only thing I do that's not illegal," he snapped.

He was silent for a few minutes as Lenna and the leprechaun got the necessary ingredients for the spell together. When they were finished, the caffeine was finally soothing his system, calming his nerves, and making him more alert.

And he had a plan. If a half-baked one.

"Okay. We'll set up at the furthest end of the fairy path. How far does it go, Rigby, if we want to be as far from here as possible and have this still work?"

Rigby shrugged. "Wouldn't go further than Eddie's."

Rome nodded. "Okay. That's five blocks, we can do that. Lenna and Rigby set up in the alley. Richard, G and I take perimeter. Be on phones at all times. We're keeping an eye out for the Feebs, but if we catch sight of so much as a mall cop, we are cancelling the ritual and bugging out. Got it?"

"Rome?" Elenna looked nervous to even be asking this.

"Yeah, chickie, what's up?"

"About this sacrifice..."

Rome blew out a breath. This was the worst part of his plan. "We're not killing any innocent people. Or their pets. I'll go get us a live lobster from the Chinese joint I saw across from the Blackberry Bramble. Alone. I want everyone else to wait here."

Richard frowned. "Wait. Where all the cops are? That's the stupidest thing I ever heard. I should go, they're not looking for me."

"Forget it, Rich. I'm going."

"Are you stupid?" Georgie snapped.

"I'm not letting any of you--" Rome began, but before he could dig his heels in properly, something hit the back of his head.

"OW!" Rome cried, turning around to see that Rigby had thrown his shoe at him. "What the hell was that for?"

"To get your attention, now give me my shoe back," the leprechaun said, matter-of-factly, holding out his hand. "You're going to sacrifice me."

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67 Re: Whiskey in the Jar on 16th August 2012, 00:38

The mortals blinked at him, silent for a moment.

He could see that they considered it, for a split-second. He was just a monster. This was all his fault anyway. It gave him a sick sense of glee to note their darker sides, even though they quickly recovered:

"The hell we are!" the blonde boy said first. "I thought this whole thing was to get you home, not dead!"

"Not to mention murdering teenagers in alleyways is generally frowned on in Boston," Georgie said, flicking her hair out of her eyes.

But Rigby had thought it over.

"Look," he said, trying to be serious, trying to be solemn, and, though it was against his nature, trying to at least look sincere. "I'm in trouble over there. Big trouble. Not just with my girlfriend, but with the, well, what passes for Law on the Other Side. They probably won't let me back. And no offense," he grew louder and held up his hand as the humans were about to protest, "I hate this place, and if I can't go home, I don't much care to stick around here, either."

"But--" the tiny dark girl began, but he kept going:

"Also, I'm counting on nobly redeeming myself by way of attempting to sacrifice my life for you pathetic creatures."

"That doesn't make any sense," the blonde boy said. "Isn't sacrifice supposed to be selfless? If you're getting something out of it, it's not a sacrifice, so it won't work."

Rigby shrugged. "Hey. What they don't know on the Other Side won't hurt 'em. Anyway, I'm a monster! Aren't you dafties supposed to kill my kind indiscriminately? It's a wonder you're still alive!"

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68 Re: Whiskey in the Jar on 17th August 2012, 16:59

Georgie watched the boy suspiciously. She didn’t like the idea of sacrifice in general, whether humans or animals, and rituals kind of creeped her out anyway. This Rigby guy might be a ‘monster’ in their eyes since he wasn’t human, but still, killing him like that wasn’t the option she would have picked- except if he would have stolen some of her shoes. He sure had liked her shoe collection…
“I think we should get the lobster, as Rome suggested.”

Rigby glared at her. “Didn’t you listen to what I just said?”

“Yeah, I did, but I’ve got news for you, I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it, it’s me who’s stuck here and can’t get home.”

“Well, maybe you should just try to get used to this world instead of making us kill you.” She turned to the others. “I don’t know…do you seriously want to use this kid for the sacrifice?”


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69 Re: Whiskey in the Jar on 17th August 2012, 23:57

“Okay, so I will take all of this we need the sacrifice in the very end to open the door, it is kind of the hand that turns the key. So I am going back to the fairy path and start the ritual.” Lenna tried to carry all the things she needed, the book and had a hard time not to fall over.

“Actually Rigby you can come with me.” Lenna didn’t mean to cause trouble but she knew having Georgie or Richard with her. “So you guys go with Rome and get this lobster. We have to work fast, I so not want to get caught by those FBI guys. Come on let’s get moving.”

Lenna looked determined at her friends, her family. She was worried that they all were in danger.

"It's a wonder you're still alive!" Yes it kind of is.


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70 Re: Whiskey in the Jar on 21st August 2012, 22:45

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Rome nodded, pulling Lenna to him for a quick hug. He slid a new magazine into his Desert Eagle and switched the depleted one to his pocket before sliding the weapon into the shoulder holster under his jacket. Part of him would have felt better leaving either Richard or Georgie with the noncombatants, but if he ran into the FBI--or, you know, the not-FBI--he'd rather have as many guns with him as possible.

Then again, if they were caught, the rescue team would be kind of pathetic...

Trying to ignore his instincts screaming at him that risking his neck to get a stupid lobster for a stupid ritual when they could just slay the monster in order to complete it and close the door, Rome met briefly with Richard and Georgie.

"I'll go for the lobster, okay?" he told them. "Plan is, we lay low--"

"No," Richard said, "I'll go. They don't know me yet."

"Yeah, 'yet'!" Rome hissed. "It's nice to have someone on the team who can walk into a convenience store and not get instantly APBed."

"Then I'll do it," Georgie said, but,

"NO," both men said, at once.

She rolled her eyes and huffed. "Picked a hell of a time to develop a sense of chivalry. Or is that chauvanism?"

"I don't mean it like that," Rome said, "you know you could kick my ass nine times out of ten. But they came to your uncle's house today, G. Hell, who knows, the real FBI and whoever the hell these other guys are might fight over me!" He beamed widely, trying not to look as scared as he felt.

Rome didn't get the impression that his companions believed him.

"Okay, G, you keep to the east side of the street. It's darker. Richard, you take the other side. We play it cool, but at the first sign of trouble, all hell breaks loose, okay?" He looked at his companions, but didn't quite give them enough time to protest again. "Now. Who wants lobster for dinner?" he grinned and strode purposefully across the street.

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71 Re: Whiskey in the Jar on 22nd August 2012, 02:34

Spoiler:
Character Information
Name: Alexander Colt
Date of birth: 4/1/79
Age: 27
Sex: Male
Hometown: Pinedale, WY
Religion: Christian
Profession: Hunter- both mundane and supernatural things, SWORD employee
Theme song: Run Through the Jungle- CCR

Physical Description
Race / Ethnicity: Anglo-American
Weight: 180
Height: 6’2”
Hairstyle and color: Right now, medium-short and worn how ever it dries after he brushes it when it’s wet. Sandy blonde-brown.
Eye color: Blue
Physical build: Tall, athletically built, but definitely not willowy. Looks like he’s been doing farm chores or other manual labor most of his life (because he has!), and has the muscle tone to show for it.
Identifying Markings: Various and sundry scars from hunting and farm work, and a tattoo one his right shoulder that Alan dared him to get when he turned 18- Alan got one too, because Alex dared him right back. It’s of barbed-wire and goes all the way around his arm and it seemed like a good idea at the time. He thinks it’s perhaps a bit tacky, but it’s there and he’s used to it and there’s more important things to worry about.
Portrayed by: Paul Walker
Image of character: Picture!

Medical History
Numerous injuries ranging from serious to minor, both from supernatural hunting and game hunting and just living a lot of his young life outdoors, which he mostly did by choice. His right leg was once broken getting kicked by one of his parents’ horses. It’s not the only time he’s broken a bone, but it’s one of the only times it wasn’t hunting-related.

Education
Graduated highschool, but no college
Languages (spoken, written) English, limited German

Skill Strengths: He has the wilderness survival skills of a kid who grew up in a family of game hunters… kind of like a boy scout, but with more years of practice. He can light fires, make rope, track, shoot his own food, and basically be self-sufficient for a good long while if he has to. He has excellent aim with a variety of guns, though by far he’s best with the ones his family kept around. Finally, he’s adept at making do with what he has- he has some good old-fashioned Yankee ingenuity going for him. He has very good eyesight.
Skill Weaknesses: Alex isn't great with technology, certainly not in a techno-geekery kind of way. Non-working electronics of any kind drive him right up a wall and he’s broken many a cellphone just because it stopped working and he chucked it at a wall- and he believes that almost anything that clanks, clonks, or makes other annoying sounds can be fixed with a well-placed kick, smack, or punch. He’s also a country boy and made easily uncomfortable by big cities and/or places where way too much is going on at once. He gets sensory overload surprisingly easy for a hunter. He’s not very good at hand-to-hand combat. The job at SWORD is rough on him, and he drinks a little too much as a result.

Personality Strengths: He’s strong on his own, and it doesn’t bother him being alone so much these days. When he trusts you, he’ll do anything for you, pretty much, and he’s a very low-stress kind of guy. It’s easy to be at ease around him because he very much gives the impression of being at ease almost anywhere, and he has a soft-spoken sort of nature.
Personality Weaknesses: Working as a part of a team is a bit of a novelty for Alex. When he first started working for SWORD he was known to go wandering off to do what he thought was best mid-mission, but they pretty quickly broke him of that. While he doesn’t go wandering off to do his own thing anymore, he’s definitely not quite used to working as a team still. He doesn’t really ever let people get too very close to him, because he’d just rather not, and so he does sometimes come across as a little bit aloof at worst or… evasive or shallow at best. He is not known to be forthcoming about much of anything, preferring to do everything himself if he can help it, which can make him a seriously frustrating pain in the butt to deal with. However, he’s a wretched liar, so if you can corner him and ask yes or no questions, he’s liable to spill the beans- even if he won’t be very /happy/ about it. He’s grown jaded over the years, although he’d call his pessimism “realism”, if anyone accused him of it.

Interests: Whittling, rock climbing, horse riding… he’ll try almost any outdoor active activity at least once, and he’ll probably like it. He has a knack for playing penny whistle, of all things.
What makes you happy?: New camping gear, especially if it’s super high tech and light or otherwise makes his life easier, hunting for fun- like deer or pronghorn or some wild creature he can make use of rather than just burning, and that doesn’t want to kill him, chilling in the mountains by his parents’ ranch or fishing in the river that runs through their property, talking to his parents on the phone or getting a letter from them, and finding some quiet, out of the way corner to fiddle around on his whistle.
What scares the crap out of you? He’s from wide open sky country, and does not deal well at all with enclosed skylines and enclosed spaces. Big cities freak him out, too. This guy definitely needs his breathing space.

History / Background
Alex is from the Colt family. Yes, the Colts of THE Colt, although he didn’t know about any of that until he was 16. He lived a pretty average country life until he was 16, went to the small schools in town with his brother, and if his mom or his dad went “out of town” often and came back looking a little worse for wear, well, they didn’t talk about it, and he was raised to respect his elders and just not ask. They used to take he and his brother out hunting deer or bear or pronghorn or whatever else they were allowed, teaching them all the wilderness survival skills they’d need in case they ever got stuck out on a hunt and had to take care of themselves for a few days.

He had a younger brother for 16 years. His brother was two years younger than him and they both ran with the same circle of friends, it being a small Wyoming town with not so very many schools, where pretty much everyone knew about everyone else and most of the kids hung out together. When they got old enough, their parents used to send them out into the woods or the plains to hunt for the weekend, or while they were away hunting as well- though he later found out they were not hunting antelope. When he turned 16 and they told him about his family’s history, he was taken aback but found he wasn’t terribly surprised, since he’d kind of started wondering when he realized that even the bears he and his brother occasionally hunted had never once injured them quite as spectacularly as his parents sometimes ended up after one of their “hunts”. He, of course, told his brother, because he’s rotten at keeping secrets and Alan was always too good at wheedling what few secrets he could keep out of him anyway.

But really, it didn’t change things much. His parents wouldn’t let them help them hunt, even if they’d let them clean guns and check med-kits and help them get ready for them, or even do research if they were busy. So mostly the boys carried on much as they had, naively thinking that the supernatural world had nothing to do with their little town and little valley.

Then they were proven wrong. They were out on a weekend hunt in the mountains, and while they were always careful and watched for things like grizzly bear and moose, they never realized they were being hunted by something else until it came tearing out of the trees, bowling them both over before they could react. At first Alex thought it was an angry moose, because it had massive antlers and stood taller than any elk ever could, but then it stood up. He got a good look at it- long-armed, deer-like head but with teeth too sharp for any normal beast, and hands with long, sharp claws. It picked him up and chucked him into a tree before he could grab his gun and shoot it, and he saw it turn to his brother before he blacked out.

When he woke up, it was well into evening and he initially thought he was alone, no sign of the thing that had charged he and his brother in the middle of their elk hunt. He almost thought he’d imagined it until his eyes fell on an uneven crumpled something at the base of a tree, and realized he recognized the camouflage hunting clothes he and his brother favored for their trips. He crawled across to the tree with a couple of broken ribs and what he was later told was a concussion but which he thought was just a headache, and found that he was way too late. His brother’s body was already cold, his neck broken from being hurled into the tree, the breath long gone from his lungs. It was his parents who found them both, him still curled up as if to keep his sleeping brother warm against the cool Wyoming air.

His parents also didn’t know what had come after them, and by the time they got the story out of him, it was long gone, though they did go out and look for it, as grief-stricken as their son. Alex finished highschool, mostly because Alan would have been pissed off if he’d given up with mere months to go, but he gave up any notions of going to college to join his parents hunting, and in his spare hours tried to track down what had taken his best friend in the world from him. He didn’t keep up with any of his high school friends, because they’d been Alan’s too, and he couldn’t deal with the looks they gave him when they thought he wasn’t paying attention. No matter what anyone told him, he figured he should’ve been watching out for their surroundings, and he should’ve seen the monster- or at least been the one with the broken neck, and not Alan. He hunted for years and years and never got over it, and never stopped looking for whatever it’d been, with no help whatsoever. It was his fault he’d not seen the creature, so it was his job to find it and kill it- not his parents’, not a hunting partners’, nothing.

And then he started seeing Alan’s ghost. He thought he was going insane, at first, but no, no, his brother’s ghost was definitely following him around. Haunting him. Not… doing anything, really, just… following him around, showing up every once in awhile, sometimes not even staying for thirty seconds before he’d fade out again. This did not help his mental state.

But he finally exhausted any leads at all, and was forced to abandon the mission for awhile until something else should come up, and it wasn’t for three years after he’d been unable to find the thing that an organization approached him offering information. In return, he’d put his skills to good use doing what he’d already been doing, hunting down supernatural things and killing them, and he was alright with that.

They gave him just enough information to keep him working for them, but he never grew any closer to finding the thing, not that he could tell. Every time he grew frustrated and threatened to quit, however, someone would talk him down, bring him back, feed him some more information. He took to drinking, because it made coping with what he was doing, all of it, just a little easier, and he didn’t have to think of inconvenient questions when he was drunk or hungover. As long as it didn’t affect his job, SWORD didn’t seem to care.

He works primarily as a tracker and sniper for SWORD. While other hunters with better fighting abilities go in and take down whatever they’ve been tracking, he sits on a roof or up a tree or on a hill somewhere and has his sniper rifle trained on the quarry. That way, if things go south, he can always shoot whatever they’re after and, if he can’t kill it, the idea is that it’ll at least get distracted enough for his co-workers to finish what they started. At first, he tried asking subtle questions here and there about what went on after they caught what they were after, but was basically told to sit up in his nest and do his job and be quiet. Essentially, “Ask us no questions, and we’ll tell you no lies.” And he’s actually alright with that, because though not being able to do anything frustrates him to the point of drink some days, it makes the job easier if he just doesn’t think about it too much. When he does think about it, he has his suspicions, and none of them are good. Since SWORD is the only lead he has on what killed his brother, he’d just as soon not have to deal with the moral quandary of needing their information while knowing without a doubt he’s doing something he’d judge to be immoral. Until he knows for certain, he’s perfectly capable of shrugging off his intuition about the whole thing, so he keeps it that way.

How and why you became a Hunter
His family has been in the business for generations, literally. He was raised hunting mundane game animals, which taught him the marksmanship and tracking and other skills he’d later need to find supernatural creatures, and he probably would have taken up the business eventually anyway, because it was easy, there were good guys and there were bad guys, and you didn’t have to deal in greys and questions, and he liked that it was simple and straightforward. After his brother was killed, he took to hunting with a vengeance- quite literally, seeking vengeance on whatever had killed his brother, and taking out anything that got in the way or distracted him or caused others the pain he had to deal with. He prefers to just not think about his brother’s ghost, because it’s not hurting anyone and SWORD would not take kindly if they knew about him, and… quite frankly it’s nice seeing him once in awhile, even if he’s not all there. Alex is lonely, because he’s never let anyone get close to him since his brother died, and the occasional conversations over the phone or through letters with his parents don’t come anywhere close filling the void that’s there.

Hunting specialties (anything you’re particularly familiar with and good at killing): No, not really, but he’s got a little more experience with ghosts than he knows what to do with
Hunter contacts (anyone important you know?): Bobby Singer, but since he grew up in a hunter family, he knows a lot of folks by name, if not personally.
Hunter assets (what’s in the arsenal in the trunk of your car?): He has probably more guns than he knows what to do with (yeah right, he’d say, as if that’d ever happen) including a sniper rifle, a shotgun, two pistols, and an old top break Smith and Wesson that he thought looked cool when he bought it and that his parents promptly (and only half-jokingly) forbade him from bringing into the house on account of it was, in fact, a Smith and Wesson. For some reason he’s never fathomed, they really have something against that manufacturer, though really any of the others. And the car itself is a 1970 Chevy Blazer, black, that his parents used as a farm truck before they gave it to him. It looks like this!
Your character's "Patron" God from the Greco-Roman Pantheon:
-----

SWORD Agent Alexander Colt was actually sure he’d been here for hours. He’d already gone over what he knew five times, at least, mentally going through each and every file he’d been given for each of his assigned targets. The blonde guy, Romulus Remington, was a psychic and a telepath, with a rap sheet as long as Alex’s arm to boot. There was a witch, too, additionally wanted for practicing sorcery- Elenna Fee. They had two others with them, a “Richard Ingram”, who’d made some sort of deal with some unknown entity, and an unknown, Georgina Gilmore. SWORD didn’t know what her abilities or powers were, but she had them, so she was a target.

The targets were, of course, nowhere to be seen, so Alex continued waiting. In the cold. In Boston, which was as wretched and crowded as any other big city he’d ever been in. His rifle was perched carefully in front of him on the raised molding that skirted the entire roof, the sight right where he could reach it if he leaned forward a few inches.
“Hey, Colt,” the earpiece cracked in his ear, and Alex grimaced at the sudden noise. It was blessedly quiet up here, compared to all the racket down below. “You finally fall asleep?” the voice asked, somewhat sarcastically, and Alex snorted softly.

“Serve you right if I did, Command, leaving me up here in the cold for hours without so much as a sandwich or a crossword puzzle,” he drawled softly to the voice on the other end. “Are you sure they’re here?” he asked doubtfully, knowing this would irritate the voice’s owner to no end.

“Colt, you just shut up and do your job,” the voice snapped, and Alex Colt smiled, stifling a laugh, before giving the buildings around his a cursory glance. There was no movement in any of the windows he could see, so he went back to watching the street level, chin propped on his hands as he looked over the roof’s narrow edge. Except for blinking, he’d been perfectly still for the past hour or so, he thought. From where he was perched, he could keep an eye on the police down below and slightly up the block as they investigated a murder behind one of the many area bars, stretching crime scene tape and parking their cars so no one could get within ten feet of the scene. The occasional car, pausing to gawk at the tragedy, drove by and momentarily blocked his view, but since nothing seemed to be happening, and since there weren’t many cars, he wasn’t overly worried.

Realizing that his fingers were going numb, Alex inched back from the edge of the roof and sat up, putting his eye to the scope on his rifle, just in case. He used it to scan the street, starting up at the crime scene and working his way back along the sidewalks.

“Do you see anything yet?” the voice asked again in his ear, and Alex rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, Command, but I thought I’d just, you know, watch ‘em walk away,” he shot back.

“You’re treading a line, tonight, Colt,” the voice answered. Alex knew he was. But he was tired- he hadn’t slept well the previous night, which sometimes happened, and it was making him far crankier and far more careless than he was already given to being.

“Yeah, yeah, like that’s new,” he muttered, too quietly for the mic to pick up, as he continued scanning the sidewalk.

And then he saw them, familiar not from having ever really seen them, but from pictures in files. Romulus Remington, of all people, right there in the open. And the blonde girl, Georgina, and the other guy had to be Richard, though they’d at least tried to hide, walking along the street edges where it was dark. Alex sat back slightly from the sight to look down at them unaided. Then he put his eye back to the scope.

“Heeey, Command,” he said.

“What now, Colt?” the voice droned back.

“I got ‘em, you guys want to get ready down there?” he asked lazily, the muzzle of his rifle tracking the trio up the road. He sat back again, trying to discern where they were headed. There weren’t any open shops on the side of the road they were heading toward, but there was a little restaurant right across from the bar where the murder had gone down. At a loss as to why they were heading toward the restaurant, Alex just shook his head and went back to the scope.

“We’re ready when you are. Take your shots. Remember not to kill them,” the voice reminded him, and Alex just nodded to himself. He wasn’t supposed to kill anyone or anything this time, just chase them into the waiting trap of other SWORD agents, or at least slow them down so they could be caught. “And don’t miss.” Alex actually snorted at that. Since when did he ever miss? He hadn’t missed a target in years, literally years.

He’d decided that, of the three of them, the best target would be the blonde guy. For one thing, the man definitely had a gun, albeit well stashed in his jacket, only noticeable when Alex looked very closely at him through the scope. If Remington was injured, he’d be less likely to use that gun, which would make the other SWORD guys happy (and probably a lot less dead). For another thing, the young man was walking along the street with far too much confidence, and quite frankly Alex found it obnoxious. Did they even know people were after them? Surely they had to know. Surely they were not that dumb. Hiding in plain sight… Remington was like a sniper’s dream target.

Alex followed his chosen target with his scope, waiting for just the right moment to take his shot, letting the world narrow down to him, the barest breeze, and the blonde man walking along the street below. His finger tightened on the trigger, and he squeezed it at the same time as the young man reached a hand to his wrist and twisted the bracelet he wore there in some sort of nervous twitch. Alex let out his careful breath in a huff and knocked off his own aim, the shot going wild and hitting his intended target in his lower left leg instead of his upper right.

“Shit!” Alex cursed, sitting back from his gun in such a hurry that he jarred it with his arm, knocking it forward. He cursed again, more colorfully, as the gun overbalanced and went over the edge of the building before he could catch it.

“COLT! I told you not to miss!” his earpiece shouted at him.

“I didn’t miss. I was off by… a foot, maybe. He…” Alex stopped himself. He reminded me of my brother! Yeah, that excuse would fly about as well as a lead balloon. “He tripped, screwed up my aim.” For a moment, there was silence, and then Command seemed to buy his explanation, and Alex headed for the roof door, drawing his firearm and bolting down the stairs to join the inevitable chaos.


_________________


Merlin: Merlin
Doctor Who: Sarasine (Sara) Tekri
Supernatural: Alexander (Alex) Colt
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72 Re: Whiskey in the Jar on 22nd August 2012, 22:03

Lenna went with Rigby, who was so nice translating her the spell. She didn’t like that he had to do that and she couldn’t read it herself. Together they prepared the ritual set the magic stone in the bowl, poured the milk over it added beer.

Man that is like a friggen cooking show.

“Read this.” Rigby pointed at the beginning of the spell. Lenna had a hard time reading it and it was frustrating because nothing seemed to work. Well there was a wind blowing, and it might got colder but it was winter in Boston it was cold anyway.
Suddenly the two redcaps show up, laughing about her trying to send them back. Without any problems they appeared next to her and through her through the alley. Surprisingly she didn’t let go of the book, well it is Lenna we are talking about of course she doesn’t let go of a book she wasn’t done reading. Lenna slammed hard into the house wall and slid down groaning. This was bad, really bad. Lenna was alone with Rigby and the Redcaps were still stronger then she was.

“Erde halte sie!”

The street broke and root shot out of the crack, but there was no chance of capturing the Redcaps. Lenna wasn’t practiced in using the element earth for her purposes.

“Dammit!” Lenna was coughing, and slowly getting back up, holding the book as tight as possible to her chest.

“Your little tricks can do nothing to us.” One of the Redcaps laughed at her just before they through her second time into the house walls.

"Damn it that hurt." She had a hard time getting up from the ground.

Where the hell is Rigby?

Lenna wasn’t sure what to do she really needed some help here, but she had no idea who would help or more how. Rome, Georgie and Richard were busy getting the lobster.


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"I hate witches! Spewing their bodily fluids everywhere. It is insane! No, downright unsanitary!"
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73 Re: Whiskey in the Jar on 23rd August 2012, 05:57

Maeglin

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Rome probably should have expected something like this.

As it was, he didn't.

So the bullet in the meaty part of his calf was a surprise.

Rome went down with a cry, and he could hear the report of a sinper rifle after he actually felt the pain in his leg, because bullets travel faster than sound, apparently.

Georgie rushed to him, but he waved her back as he rolled, helpless on his back, shouting "Sniper! Stay down!" and drawing his .50 cal, aimed it up at the roof. He fired a few rounds but was out of range for little more than peppering the side of the building, and, suspiciously, no more shots were forthcoming from the roof.

Civilians were screaming and running, ducking out of sight. A few cars screeched. Police officers ran containment, but a few drew their weapons. And then the not-FBI agents moved in.

Richard charged out from his cover, hauling Rome up, as a hail of magic-bad-guy-bullets-that-always-miss followed them until they were safe behind a taxi which the owner and passengers had vacated. Georgie had slunk back into an alleyway, but had drawn her sidearm and was waiting for a cue.

Rome barely had time for a "Thanks, man," before--

"Romulus Remington and Richard Ingram!" shouted Holyfield's voice. Rome had actually forgotten how pants-wettingly terrifying that guy's voice sounded. He also glanced at Richard, too scared to be properly apologetic at getting him into this, but Richard grimaced, too lost in his own thoughts to look back at him. "We have you surrounded. Lay down your weapons and--"

"Missed you, too, Holyfield," Rome said, waving Georgie further back into the shadows. She looked confused, ready to ignore him and move in, but he tapped his head as if to say I have a plan as he tore off his belt to wrap tightly around his leg just under his knee. "Who's your friend?"

The tall man who was with him announced, "I am Special Agent David Justice, Federal Bureau of--"

"Haha, yeah," Rome continued, "I call bullshit. Speaking as one fake FBI Agent to another, man, you gotta work on your technique. But you were an FBI agent before, weren't ya, Holyfield, so what happened? You get kicked out for losing us so many times?"

Because, leaning back against the car, Rome saw, silhouetted in a streetlight, a figure climbing down a fire escape right behind Georgie. He waved for her attention and continued to pantomime as he spoke: Behind you, he pointed, and up, he gestured, sniper. But here he was at a loss. Maybe he was just warning her, but, well, like he had said, Georgie could kick his ass on most days ending in -y. She was like one of Charlie's Angel's, or something. If anyone was a consummate badass, it was Georgie.

If anyone was going to get them out of this situation--hidden for now but hilariously outnumbered and outgunned--it was going to be Georgie.



Last edited by Maeglin on 24th August 2012, 17:12; edited 1 time in total

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74 Re: Whiskey in the Jar on 24th August 2012, 10:24

Georgie couldn’t believe her eyes. First, this idiot Remington had to get shot- what a surprise- and then those fake FBI agents caught him and Richard right at the spot. Talk about great timing…
And then he had the nerve to wave at her like some crazy person- but he had a reason, right? He couldn’t be so stupid and wave for no reason. Before Georgie had the time to wonder what he meant, she heard something behind her. Her reflex had always been quick, so before the person behind her had the chance to surprise her, she turned around, kicked the firearm out of the person’s hand and pointed her sidearm right at the guy…attractive guy…very attractive guy.
Anyway. No time for this.
“Hands up”, she said coldly, watching him like a hawk. He was one of those FBI agents, well, one of the fake kind. She was sure he belonged to Holyfield and his men.
The man slowly raised his hands but Gerorgie didn’t miss his quick glance at his firearm on the floor. “Don’t even think about it.” Pointing the gun still at him, she kicked his firearm away.

“You know, we can deal with this differently.” He shot her a smile, but she didn’t even blink- which wasn’t that easy to do, considering that he was very attractive.

“Oh, I don’t think so.” She stepped closer and then pressed her gun into his back. “You’re coming with me.” She led him out of the alley, very well aware that this was going to be kind of risky. After all, there was Holyfield and his men, all properly armed. When she stepped out of the alley with her ‘hostage’, Holyfield had his back turned to her since he was threatening Rome and Richard, not noticing what was going on at first.

“Holyfield”, she said coldly. “I’ve got something you might want to have back.”

He turned around and raised his eyebrows. “Miss Gilmore…I see you’re in town as well. Your uncle apparently didn’t know any of that.” He didn’t hide the sarcasm in his voice.
Georgie still pressed the gun into the guy’s back, making sure he wouldn’t get any funny ideas and try to escape.

“Now, Miss Gilmore, you’re not doing anything stupid here, are you?” He looked from her to the man next to her, obviously pissed that she had one of his men.

“I’m not planning to”, she replied dryly. “Unless you leave me no other choice.” Her eyes wandered from Holyfield to Rome and Richard, then back to Holyfield. Suddenly she felt something weird, there was something wrong. Well, obviously, but it wasn’t this situation, it was more…where was Lenna? Something wasn’t right. Maybe the ritual hadn’t been working, or maybe…something had happened to Lenna? It was a bad time to think about that now, she had to focus on what was going on here and couldn’t allow herself to make any mistake at the moment otherwise they would all be screwed. She took a deep breath, hoping everything was alright with her friend.


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SPN: Georgina (Georgie) Gilmore
SG: The Kid
LaL: Willow
PA: Skadi
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75 Re: Whiskey in the Jar on 24th August 2012, 23:15

Maeglin

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Someday, Rome mused, their luck would run out. Someday, possibly soon, these chuckleheads would get their poop in a group and manage to snag, bag and tag them like they were, maybe, you know, semi-professional. Someday, he would be behind bars. Someday, probably sooner than he was comfortable thinking about, Rome would end up in a body bag.

But it was not this day.

Rome tried to suppress the grin that was spreading across his face, but he obviously wasn't trying very hard, as Georgie began naming her terms:

"You let Remington and Ingram walk away, and your sniper doesn't get shot," she was saying, but suddenly the world began to blur.

Then it shifted and warped and Rome felt pressure building in the center of his forehead that felt like someone was driving a spoon right between his eyes and--

"Oh, shit, not now," Rome groaned, holding his head and folding over, just as Richard tugged at him--

"Come on, Rome, we have to go NOW--"

BAM!

Lenna and Rigby, starting the spell.

The two Redcaps, laughing.

They grabbed Lenna and threw her across the alley like she was a doll. Of course she didn't let go of the book, which was both sad and funny and, well, at least it let Rome know she wasn't dead.

She tried a spell that made tree roots shoot out of the ground to attack the Fairies, but it did nothing to stop them.

"Your little tricks can do nothing to us." One of the Redcaps said, while his partner tossed her a second time into the building.

Rome didn't see where Rigby was--if he was still there of if he had ran away and left her--before--

BAM!

"Rome! Rome, come on!" Richard was hauling him to his feet, and Rome staggered upright, still holding his head and squinting at the bright street lights and cop car lights around him, not really understanding what was going on.

These were getting worse all the time. The visions, if that was what they were, were stronger. He was there, he could smell things, could turn his head to get other views, it was real. And now it was taking forever for the real world to stop spinning and make sense and holy shit his head really hurt...

Somehow, miraculously, they were now in an alleyway. Richard was holding him by the arm. Georgie had some guy in a fake-feeb suit at gunpoint. He didn't know what was going on. But he did know one thing--

"Lenna's in trouble," he gasped.

"What's wrong with him?" Guy at Gunpoint asked.

"Shut up," Georgie said, and, fishing in his suit, found his handcuffs and cuffed him. "You're coming with us back to our car."

"No, we need to get back to Lenna!" Rome insisted, trying to open his eyes but immediately scrunching them shut again, almost doubling over as the pain spiked. "She's--the Redcaps are back. We've got to make sure she finishes the ritual so that people stop dying. We've got to get back."

"Okay, buddy, looks like you're coming with us," Georgie said.

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